“I can assure you, your sex wasn't trash.”
“So then you're saying tonight you won't be coming back,” she said more as a statement than a question.
“Are you asking me to?”
I tugged at her locs. Sat down on the ottoman behind me so I could have better leverage. I knew I should have been on my way back to Hilton Head since I had to be back on Tybee by noon, but what man would have been able to turn down temptation ripe for the picking? I sucked her right nipple into my mouth while my hands found her small waist. Something about the way a woman rubbed my head and ears always got to me. Most women didn't know those two things increased my arousal.
I released a low growl while I palmed her ass. Her moans and hisses worked my nerve endings. Had me rising to the occasion again when all I'd intended to do was get up and leave. I lifted her up so she could straddle my lap, my mouth never leaving her breasts while she worked my belt buckle. Thankfully, the condoms were within reach behind me on the dresser. I reached back and grabbed one and gave it to her. My eyes rolled in the back of my head a bit when she massaged my head with her fingers. While I kissed on her breasts, I let my tongue travel up to her neck and ears.
Gabby was stroking me with her hand. I could feel my preexcitement leak out. She was moving her hips like she was already riding me. But I remembered how uncomfortable my length and girth had been for her last night. So I moved one hand from her locs, then slipped two fingers inside of her and stroked her with that
come here
motion to get her juices flowing again. She was already so wet. Like she had been thinking about fucking me the whole time.
She threw her head back and moaned . . . sighed like my fingers were what she had been waiting for. She rocked her hips against my hand while our breathing synchronized.
“You should come back tonight,” she whispered heatedly.
“Put the condom on,” I answered.
She did. Took my dick in her hand, then guided me into her. Gabby took her time. Took me in at her pace. Took the time to get adjusted, then started to move her body like a snake. She was going so painfully slow that my hand fisted the skin on her back. Yeah, she knew what she was doing. And while I may have been in control last night, this morning, she was proving that she could give as good as she can take.
* * *
I waited in the car for Carl. After Gabby and I had done our final dance of carnal pleasure, I got dressed. She headed to the shower. Neither one of us pretended to be more than what we were to each other, which was two grownups who had provided each other with sexual satisfaction. That was all there was to it.
I watched as Carl paused, then toss something in the trash as he walked out the front door. Shell locked the door behind him. She waved at me through the closed glass door, then rushed back up the stairs. Carl casually strolled out the front door like he hadn't just helped a woman to cheat on her husband. His locs swung around his shoulders. His shirt was wrinkled and untucked, and his suit jacket was in his hand while he texted on his cell.
“You look pissed,” I said to him once he got into the car. “Pussy that bad?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Dalisay texting me with her bullshit.”
“You still talking to her?”
“She's still my wife, and unfortunately, she's trying to contest this divorce.”
I nodded and took one last look at the beach house, remembering the woman inside before I pulled off.
“How did things go with you and Shell?” I asked him.
“She's cool. Feeling her out. What about you and her friend?”
“Just good sex.”
“Nothing else, huh?”
I glanced at him before putting my eyes back on the road. “Nope. Wasn't looking for there to be.”
Carl chuckled, then let his seat back. I drove the rest of the way to Hilton Head in silence.
Chapter
12
Carl
It was a quiet ride back to Hilton Head, South Carolina. Diego didn't say anything more on the eighty-minute drive because he was being his usual elusive self; nothing new when it came to women. I had a feeling Shell's friend would end up being yet another casualty in a long line of what I called “hit-it-and-quit-it chicks.” My friend was famous for meeting a woman, sexing her, and cutting her off at the drop of a hat, especially if she seemed to start catching feelings. This had been a pattern with Diego throughout all the years I'd known him; he always kept women at arm's length, and when they seemed to get too close,
poof
, they were gone like yesterday's trash.
I guess that's why the arrangement between Diego and his old standby, Ricki, had worked out so well for him; he was in complete control. Ricki was young; young enough, in fact, to be Diego's daughter. And he had her trained like a child. Or better yet, a puppy. He said jump and didn't have to say how high because she already knew. At times, I actually felt sorry for her, because although Diego was my best friend, ole boy was clearly taking advantage of her. I wanted to chalk it up to her being young and dumb, but then again, he was breaking her off with money and other gifts. Maybe the situation worked for her too.
Ricki's dilemma made me think of the young lady that I recently shared a bed with. Shell also appeared to be in a situation that she had no control over; a cheating husband who had apparently moved on with another woman, and yet she had no means to escape the marriage. Yeah, she had a temporary furlough for the weekend, but from what I gathered, that motherfucker could potentially make her life a living hell once she got back.
During the silence on the ride to Hilton Head, I thought back to the few minutes I spent with Shell before Diego and I left.
Shell was asleep wearing nothing but an Atlanta Falcons football jersey. I hadn't been with another woman in almost twenty years, seventeen of those married. But now that I no longer considered myself married, all bets were off. I had to admit, I didn't feel one ounce of guilt whatsoever over what happened with Shell. Betrayal will do that to you. And the fact that that was some good-ass pussy made it all the better. Tight, juicy, sweet. Damn. My mouth was watering just from thinking about it.
I'm a man who's used to getting what I want, and I wanted another taste of Shell. Even though she was asleep, I didn't think she would mind if I helped myself. I moved closer to her, sliding my hand between her legs, gently massaging her clit. She began to moan softly, her legs parting as if inviting me in. One finger entered her moist folds, while my thumb continued to stimulate her clit. I saw her briefly open her eyes, then close them again as they rolled back in her head.
I only had about an hour's sleep, and I needed a pick-me-up. Usually that was coffee, but Shell's juicy pussy would work just fine. Sliding my head between her legs, my tongue teased her clit.
“What are you doing to me, Carl?”
I grabbed her meaty thighs, placing them on my shoulders. My tongue found its way into her sweet, pink pussy as I tongue fucked her, my nose rubbing up against her sensitive clit.
As I moved my tongue and face in concentric circles, Shell let me know how much she appreciated my attention.
“Damn, Carl, that shit feels so good,” she said, as she moved to match my movements. “Suck my pussy.”
I loved it when a woman knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to say so. I grabbed her waist, my face burying even deeper. Her legs began to shake while she held my head in place. For a minute, I felt as if I was going to suffocate. Fuck it. If I died right then and there, at least I'd die happy. Besides, wouldn't that be a bitch if Dalisay got a call from the cops telling her how I died? “Ma'am, your husband died with his head between another woman's legs.” It'd be poetic justice if you asked me.
“
Oh shit, oh shit, Oh Shit!” Shell repeated, her juices squirting all over my face. I drank her sweet come until it was all gone.
“Good morning,” I said, lifting my head up. All she could do was laugh.
I took my glasses off, wiped my hand down my face, and noticed Shell's essence was still on my fingers. I smiled to myself. Hadn't done that in weeks, smiled, that is. Maybe a fake one for staff, clients, and other business associates, but not a real, genuine smile. Being with Shell did that. Like I said earlier, misery does indeed love company, and that misery tasted
really
good.
My reminiscing was interrupted by the continuous vibration of my phone. Checking it, I saw it was Dali. The bitch was really beginning to work my nerves. I thought about ignoring the call, but I knew if I didn't answer, she'd keep calling back.
“What?” I asked, wanting her to know how annoyed I truly was.
“I've been trying to reach you all morning. Why haven't you answered my text messages?”
“Because there was no need.”
“What do you mean there was no need? I tell you I'm contesting the divorce, and you ignore me?”
“And I'm supposed to care why?”
Although it just started, I was already tired of this conversation.
“Because, Carl, I still love you. I think we can work through this.”
What the fuck? This woman was obviously delusional. That or her pregnancy hormones were seriously fucking with her brain. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? You didn't love me when you were boning the fuck out of John. Not to mention you're in the family way, exceptâwait, it's not
our
family. Bitch, please! Get the fuck outta here! This conversation is over. From now on, anything you want to say to me about the divorce, you can say through my lawyer.”
And just that quickly, Dali killed my buzz.
“Carl, are you saying you feel nothing for me, that you don't love me at all anymore?”
I could hear the quiver in her voice, as if she was about to cry.
“Oh, I feel something for you, but it definitely is
not
love. You might want to stop asking questions like that or I might tell you what it is I
really
feel for you.”
Diego was pulling into the parking lot of the Omni Hilton Head Oceanfront Resort. Aside from the occasional sniffle, I heard crickets on the other end of the phone. Finally, she spoke.
“I know you're angry, and you have every right to be, but please, please, just think about it. That's all I ask.”
Ain't this some shit! This bitch was thickheaded as fuck! She cheated, she rawdogged, she got knocked up with someone else's babyâWhat part of all that was I supposed to forgive? Hell no! Not happening!
“Dali, I have to go. Business to attend to.”
“Okay, Carl. Just remember, I still loveâ” I quickly disconnected the call.
“You okay, man?” Diego asked as we exited our vehicle.
“Yeah, I'm good.”
“You sure? Because if you're not, I can handle the meeting today.”
I knew Diego was just as tired as I was, so I wasn't going to leave him to handle things on his own. Besides, I wasn't one to slack off when it came to business, no matter what I was dealing with personally. In reality, until last night, work was my only distraction. Now I had another, at least for this weekend.
“Bro, you know me; I need to keep busy. Going to the meeting and going to the fair are just what I need to get my mind off of my issues. Understand?”
We quickly walked through the lobby, heading toward the elevator.
“Yeah, I hear you. But if you feel the need to take a break, just let me know.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, entering the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.
Diego and I both had luxury oceanfront suites. After one particularly bothersome incident when Diego and I were in college, I always knew to get my own room when we traveled anywhere. We had gotten a two-bedroom suite, and even though my room was across the hall, I was stuck hearing some random female he met in a club screaming, “Aye, papi,” all fucking night long. Needless to say, that was the first
and
last time we shared a room, because I never knew if Diego was going to end up with a flavor of the night.
The elevator doors slid open, and Diego and I parted ways, heading to our respective rooms. The plan was to rendezvous at eight thirty at HH Prime, one of the hotel's upscale restaurants, for breakfast, as well as a quick strategy session, before heading to the conference room we rented in order to interview several companies vying to handle marketing for Electron Enterprises. We already had a kick-ass marketing team, but we knew that if we wanted to stay current, we needed fresh, new ideas, and getting other opinions never hurt.
Before entering my room, I looked at my watch and saw that it was seven thirty. I needed to get a move on. I was starting to feel the effects of my night out. My eyelids felt heavy, and my eyes started to burn. I let out a hearty yawn. Walking over to the suite's mini kitchen, I grabbed a coffee mug, opened a packet of the hotel's instant fresh roast coffee, and poured it into the cup. Time was passing, so instead of waiting for the coffeemaker to heat some water, I put some water from the sink in the mug, and then placed the cup in the microwave, setting the time for one minute thirty seconds.
While my coffee was heating up, I got out some clothes to wear. I chose a pair of charcoal-gray pants, matching socks, a crisp light gray Polo shirt, and my black leather oxfords. Even the boxer briefs I selected were gray, the color reflecting my current mood thanks to my hopefully soon-to-be ex-wife. She really had me fucked up. How could she even have the nerve to contest the divorce? She didn't have a leg to stand on. I clearly had the tramp on the grounds of adultery. The DNA test proved that. Yeah, she was trippin'. The more I thought about her, the more disgusted I became.
I was jolted out of my thoughts when I heard the microwave ring. I opened the door, taking the cup with the steaming hot coffee out. I didn't even wait for it to cool down. I damn near burned my taste buds off drinking the strong liquid. I needed it strong right now. I saw many cups in my future this morning; didn't want to fall asleep during the interviews.
I made short work of the cup, and then headed to the shower, took off my glasses placing them, along with my cell phone, on the bathroom counter. Quickly, I shed my clothes, tossed them to the side. Turning on the water, I gave it a few seconds to warm up. I needed a hot shower; did some of my best thinking then.
I stepped inside, turned around, letting the hot water roll down my back. As I inhaled the steam, I allowed myself to relax a bit. Before I left Shell, we talked for a few minutes. You can learn a lot about a person in a short amount of time if you really wanted to. And I wanted to know more about the woman I had been sexing for the better part of the night.
“What are you going to school for?” I asked as I got dressed.
Shell was lying on her stomach; head sitting on her hands, Falcons jersey half covering her full bare ass. I had to look away, or else I'd never get out of there.
“I'm prelaw. I eventually want to study international law.”
I almost tuned her out when she said she wanted to become a lawyer, but I had to remember that it wasn't her fault that she wanted to go into the same profession as Dalisay. That was just my own transference talking.
“Why international law?”
She tilted her head to the side and took a deep breath as she appeared to be formulating an answer.
“I love studying the law, and I want to travel. That way, I have the best of both worlds.”
I didn't want to burst her bubble, but one question kept gnawing at me.
“How are you going to travel if your husband doesn't even like you going to school locally? If you two get back together, you know that'll probably be an issue.”
“Assuming we do get back together, I guess I'll cross that bridge if and when it comes to that,” she shrugged. “Once I graduate, and he sees all the opportunities I'll have, I'm sure he'll change his mind.”
“Well, I hope it all works out for you.” I felt Shell was being extremely naïve, but if that's what it took to get her through the day, then so be it. “How old are your kids?” I asked.
“I have a girl who is three, and a boy who is four.”
I put on my shoes and glasses, picked up my cell.
“Think you'll have anymore?”
“Most likely. I do love children. But that won't be any time soon. Not until I graduate and have a decent job.” Shell got up from the bed. “Do you have any kids?”
I bristled when I heard her question.
“No. Wife didn't want any. Was too concerned with climbing the corporate ladder.”
As I considered the bitter irony, the subject still had me feeling raw.
The look on Shell's face told me she also understood how ironic the situation was. “Damn, Carl, that's really fucked up.”
“It is what it is.”
At the moment, my phone vibrated in my hand. I thought it may have been Diego sending me a text letting me know he was ready to go. Instead, Dali's name popped up. Just one of a number of text messages. All of them pissed me off, all of them went unanswered. I rolled my eyes, putting my phone in my back pocket.