Samera
M
y heart has been beating at an accelerated speed ever since I left the restaurant. Not knowing where to go, I drove to a strip mall and parked outside a Ross Dress For Less store. That’s where I am now, slumped behind the wheel of my BMW. I sit there and try to figure out what I’m going to do.
Five minutes pass, and I have no answers.
Finally deciding that I have to do something, I start the car. The engine purrs and the air-conditioning comes on full-blast. The only thing I’m sure of right now is that I can’t go back to my place. At least not by myself.
I remember Reed’s anger this morning, his desire to beat Peter’s head in. At the time I’d told him to forget the issue, as though I wanted him to take the high road. Now I know the truth is that I need the Reed that can be a hothead, the guy who’ll hunt Peter down and make him sorry for messing with me. Because if I’m alone somewhere and Peter confronts me, there’s no way I’ll be able to handle him by myself.
I start for the parking lot’s exit, then think better of it and pull the car to the side. Thankfully, I found my cell phone under the seat in my car, and I use it now to call Reed.
He doesn’t pick up his home phone, so I call the cell, which he does answer.
“Sam,” he says.
“Hey, Reed.”
“How’d your meeting go?”
“Creepy,” I admit. “I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. Where are you?”
“I went out to get some wine.”
“Do you have time to head to my place now? I don’t want to go there alone, but I need to pick up some of my things.”
“Sure, I’ve got time. Why don’t you meet me back at the house? There’s no point in taking two cars.”
“Right. Okay, see you soon.”
My stomach twists painfully as I drive back to Reed’s house. I glance in my rearview mirror often, fearing that someone’s following me.
And I see Peter many times. In cars driving beside me, behind me, on the opposite side of the road.
Of course, I don’t really see him. My mind is playing tricks on me.
Living in fear…it’s no way to live.
Still, when I pull into Reed’s driveway and see his Explorer there, I sigh in relief.
I’m opening my car door when Reed appears at his doorway. He grins, waves, then steps outside.
I stay behind the wheel. Moments later Reed approaches the passenger side of my car.
“All right if we take your car?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say.
Reed gets in beside me and kisses me on the cheek. And as I stare at him, I feel conflicted. Just last night I hadn’t been sure if I wanted to continue my relationship with him. Now I’m thankful that he’s here with me.
I start to drive. Reed turns on the car radio and searches until he finds a station he likes, one playing pop-rock. He turns the volume high.
With the music blaring, we don’t talk. And that’s fine with me. Reed’s presence is enough.
Twenty minutes later we’re at the town house that houses my apartment. I pull into the driveway and turn off the car’s engine. Then I reach for the door’s handle, but Reed puts a hand on my arm, stopping me.
I turn my head to look at him. “What?”
“Don’t just get out of your car like that. Look around first.” He looks left and right, showing me what I ought to do. “If that Peter asshole is hiding somewhere in the bushes, you don’t want to be blindsided.”
I nod.
“Wait here, okay?” Reed opens his car door and gets out. He does a three-sixty, scanning the area, and then heads over to my door.
He opens it, saying, “It looks like the coast is clear.”
I exit the car, and Reed immediately takes my hand. Together we head up the steps to my home, but I’m anxious every step of the way, even with Reed here.
At the front door Reed turns and takes another look around while I insert my key into the lock. But the door pushes open, and I frown.
Without thinking, I step into the foyer. And what I see hits me hard. Before I have a chance to scream, I’m slipping. My stilettos sliding through the sticky, dark red blood covering the floor.
Everything happens in slow motion. I fall backward, my hands flailing, a silent scream bubbling in my throat. I’m unable to fight gravity, and my head pounds on the hardwood floor.
Right beside the severed head.
It is then that my scream becomes audible. I scream uncontrollably, like some psycho killer is standing over me with a knife. My fingers and arms slide through the thick blood and I try desperately to move away from the bloodied head beside me. But I keep slipping and going nowhere.
“Holy fuck!”
Reed charges into the foyer. He drops to his knees, gathers me in his arms, but still I don’t stop screaming.
“My God!” Reed runs his fingers over my face and upper body. “Motherfucker!”
Hot tears spill onto my cheeks. “It’s a head!” I scream. “It’s a fucking head!” I know I sound hysterical, but given the circumstances, I have every right to be.
“Motherfucker,” Reed repeats.
Carefully he climbs to his feet and pulls me up with him. I grip him, hold on to him for dear life. I cry until my throat is hoarse.
After a few minutes I chance a look over my shoulder. The head is in bad shape—its skull bashed and brain matter exposed.
“Stay here,” Reed instructs me, pushing me toward a corner in the foyer. “I’m gonna check that thing out.”
“N-no. Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“We’re covered in blood here. It’s not gonna matter.”
Glancing at my hands, I feel like Lady Macbeth. There’s blood everywhere. I can’t stand to see it anymore, and I close my eyes. I huddle in the corner, shaking and crying.
“I don’t think it’s real,” Reed says after a moment.
I open my eyes and scream when I see him lifting the head.
“It’s too light,” he explains, bobbing it up and down.
“Reed, don’t…don’t do that.”
“And this blood…” He gestures to the foyer floor. “It smells kinda sweet to me.”
Once again I examine my hands. I lift one until it’s close enough for me to smell it.
“It does smell sweet,” I concur, and my heart finally starts to slow its frantic pace. “Kind of like strawberry.”
“Syrup,” Reed concludes. And to be sure, he licks the substance off his finger. “Yep.”
A long, relieved breath oozes out of me. Then I realize what has happened. “Someone went to serious lengths to scare the shit out of me. And it worked.”
Reed drops the head, and even though I know it’s fake, I jump as it bounces. “That son of a bitch.”
I nod. What else can I do?
“One night in Las Vegas.” Reed shakes his head as he stares at me, and I see anger in his eyes. I know at this moment, that anger is for me. “One night of fun, right? I bet that’s all you thought it’d be.”
I sniffle and move toward my living room. Fuck, my ankle hurts. I’m about to sit on my living room sofa, but I abruptly stop myself. I’m covered in strawberry syrup. I can’t very well sit on my furniture like this.
Instead I plop my body onto the floor and take off my heels.
“Do you see how real this shit is?” Reed asks. He sits on the floor beside me, stares at me with a stern look. “Goddamn it, you brought this shit to Atlanta—”
“Fuck you, Reed, I know!” I yell. “I know better than anyone else what the price of that night was. So spare me the lecture!”
Reed breathes heavily as he stares at me, his anger evident. I do the same as I meet his irate look.
“Honestly, Reed, if you can’t deal with what I have to say, then you can walk out that door right now.”
“I’m scared, okay?” He takes my hand in his. “I love you more than anything, and someone wants you dead. How am I supposed to feel about that?”
“How did he find me?” I ask. “I mean, it’s not like Peter knew anything about me. I don’t understand.”
“People can find all kinds of shit on the Internet, Sam.”
“I guess so,” I agree, knowing that’s the only thing that makes sense. Cold, I run my hands up and down my arms.
Reed rises. “You’re definitely never coming back here. Pack your bags and make it fast. You’re not staying here another minute. This son of a bitch means business.”
“What about the police? I’m not keen on calling them, because God only knows if they’ll take me into custody, but maybe they can protect me.”
“I’ll protect you.” Reed extends his hand to me. “Come on.”
My heart slams against my rib cage as Reed pulls me to my feet. I glance every which way in my apartment, as though someone might come out of a door or round a corner any second.
“Reed, what if he’s still here?”
“I should have brought my gun,” Reed utters.
I want to run out of my apartment and never return. But I can’t leave like this, wearing clothes covered in fake blood. Even Reed has the strawberry syrup all over his jeans, which will be suspicious as hell should anyone see us leaving my apartment.
“Babe,” Reed says, “you stay close to the phone. I’ll take a look around.”
Reed heads off, and I hold my breath. I don’t think I breathe until he returns to me and proclaims that all’s clear.
I rip off my shirt before I even get to my bedroom. Then, I shimmy my jeans off my hips. I toss both pieces into the hamper in my room before retrieving my suitcase from the closet. Then I spend a couple minutes going through drawer after drawer, dumping contents from my dresser into the suitcase without even caring what it is.
Five minutes later I’m dressed in a pink sundress. I wanted to shower, but the sooner I get out of my apartment, the better.
Reed offers me his arm. “You ready?”
“Absolutely. Let’s get out of here.”
Lishelle
T
wo days ago, when I received that bouquet of flowers at the office it was the beginning of a nightmare. So you can imagine that I’m none too pleased to open my office door and see another stunning bouquet. This time it’s a gorgeous arrangement of red roses, and for a moment it takes my breath away.
“Not more flowers, Bernie.”
Bernie doesn’t say a word, just steps into the room. And that’s when I see that it
isn’t
Bernie holding these flowers. It’s Rugged.
“So I have some competition,” he says when we make eye contact.
“Rugged?” I ask, as though I can’t believe he’s really here.
“Roger. Remember, my friends call me Roger.”
I glance at my wristwatch. It’s not even one in the afternoon—a time of day when I normally wouldn’t be here.
“How did you know I’d be here?” I ask him. “I don’t usually come in until later.” And something niggles at the back of my neck as I ask the question. A hint of suspicion.
“I didn’t know,” he replies. “I wanted to bring these here to surprise you.”
I breathe in and out slowly, eyeing Roger warily. He places the vase of roses onto the desk beside the other bouquet. Yeah, I kept the flowers. I didn’t want to rouse curiosity by dumping them.
Roger looks at me and asks, “What?”
“You didn’t by chance send me flowers a couple of days ago, did you?”
“If I sent you flowers, you’d know it.”
“Hmm.” I’m not sure if I should believe him.
He chuckles nervously. “You’re not happy to see me?”
“I don’t know.”
Now he narrows his eyes. “The way we left things in Vegas…I thought you wanted to see me again.”
“I’m gonna say something, and I want an honest answer. Did you send me and my friends flowers? Possibly as a bad joke?”
Roger’s expression turns serious. “No. What’s this about?”
“Just…we got some flowers. The notes were weird. Vague,” I add. “And now you show up with roses…”
“I got into town this morning.” He reaches into the pocket of his baggy jeans and produces a cell phone. “Call my manager if you want.”
My rigid stance softens. “No, that’s okay.”
“You’re not happy to see me?” he asks.
“I didn’t say that.” And then I smile.
Roger matches my smile and heads toward me. He scoops me into his arms and kisses me deeply.
“Damn,” he says when we pull apart. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since you walked away that night.”
“Walked away? You
sent
me away, remember?”
“And I’ve been suffering ever since.”
I’m obviously crazy because I flush at the statement. Since when did I become such a pushover?
Roger nuzzles his nose against my ear. “Did you miss me?” he whispers.
“A little,” I admit. But my body screams,
A lot!
“Damn, you know how to bring a brotha to his knees. Crush his ego.”
“Oh, let’s not talk about crushed egos! And then you didn’t call…”
“I had ta work. Concerts on the West Coast. You know.”
“And all those groupies to keep you warm at night.” I soften the accusation with a smile, let him know I’m joking.
“You said you got some time, right?”
“A little,” I tell him.
He takes my hand. “Then come with me.”
“Where?” I ask.
“My place ain’t far from here. We can finish what we started in Vegas. And this time, no games.”
Talk about direct. “I don’t have much time,” I tell him. “A little less than three hours.” Not nearly as long as I’d like, but certainly long enough to quench my thirst.
“Enough time for an appetizer. Something to whet yo’ appetite.”
I smile sweetly, my vagina already thrumming. “Let me grab my purse.”
Rugged’s place is a stately home in Buckhead, complete with magnolia trees and a wrought-iron gate lining the property.
I’m impressed, yes, but I’m more impressed with his huge cock. I’ve been playing with it ever since we left the news station, and it’s stayed hard all that time.
The gate shuts behind Rugged’s Navigator once the vehicle is on the property. I unbuckle my seat belt and go for gold. Dropping my head onto his lap, I immediately swirl my tongue over the tip of his penis.
“Damn, woman!” he exclaims, then laughs. “Let me park the car.”
I ignore him and continue to flick my tongue over his shaft, pumping it as I do.
The car comes to an abrupt stop, and I expect Roger to recline his seat and enjoy. Instead, he grips me by the shoulders and urges me up.
I flash him a confused look.
“I’m all fo’ a quickie in the car,” he tells me, “but what I wanna do ta you? Nuh-uh. I need you inside.”
I groan slightly in protest, but I’m not really disappointed. I’m excited at the idea of finding out exactly how Roger plans to whet my appetite.
I make my way out of the car, and he meets me at the front of the SUV, where he’s struggling to zip up his pants. Then he takes my hand.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” he tells me. “I promise, you’re gonna love this.”
My body shudders from the promise, that’s how hot and bothered I am.
The walk to the front door seems like an eternity, but really it’s less than a minute. Roger opens the door, and we step into the house. He takes my hand again and leads me upstairs.
The blinds are drawn in his massive bedroom, and very little natural light is coming into the room. Enough for me to see his face, and little enough that I don’t mind getting completely naked.
Roger gathers me in his arms and kisses me, a startlingly gentle kiss considering I know we both can’t wait to get naked. It’s a reminder that sex can be tender, intimate, and to my own surprise I appreciate that.
He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck, where he sucks softly on my skin and gently nips it with his teeth.
“I think you’re sexy,” he whispers. “And I’m mad attracted to you.”
“I kind of figured that out,” I joke, and offer him more of my neck to tease.
“Even if you are stubborn as hell,” he goes on, and we both chuckle at that.
Roger’s mouth finds mine again, and we kiss deeply. After a few seconds he abruptly pulls away.
“Wait a second, okay?”
I moan and nod at the same time.
Running my hands over my breasts, I watch as Roger heads to the stereo in his room. He flips through a CD case, finds something he likes, then puts it into the CD player. As he does, I pull my dress over my head.
And I have a twilight moment sensation. Here I am, standing in a rap star’s bedroom in only designer shoes and lace panties. Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured myself in this situation.
Turning, Roger sees me and grins. Soft music fills the airwaves, and I soon recognize the voice as Usher’s.
He heads back to me and immediately wraps his arms around me, splays his hands over my back. And then he sways first to the left, then the right. It takes me a moment to realize he wants me to dance with him.
So I do. Together, we move our bodies in sync to the romantic beat. Roger’s fingers play over my back. His touch is light—he’s only skimming my skin—but it’s electric.
We dance for the entire song, until another person’s voice fills the airwaves. This time it’s a woman. Tamia.
Now I wrap my arms around Roger’s neck and hold him close. We don’t have all night, but still this feels nice. Nice to enjoy the moment as though we have all the time in the world.
Roger moves his hands lower, to the small of my back.
I’m the first to raise my lips to his. The kiss is slow at first. Soon it turns hot and passionate. His touch is no longer light. His hands roam all over my back, over my ass, kneading my flesh.
I reach for his shirt, tug it out of his jeans. He raises his hands high and I pull the shirt over his head. Then I run my fingers over his chest, playing with the strands of dark curls I find there.
Roger slips his hands between my thighs and covers my pussy through my panties.
I moan. “Oh, that feels good.”
“I love everything about you,” he tells me. “Your body is perfect.”
“You’re pretty perfect yourself.”
And he is. Forget a six-pack. He’s got eight well-defined muscular ripples across his torso. And his arms are strong. The kind I love to have wrapped around my body.
I stroke my fingers over his arms, his abdomen. I move them lower, to the snap on his jeans.
“I’m all yours, baby,” he tells me.
I undo his jeans and shimmy them down his hips, enjoying the feel of his long, muscular legs as I do. But it’s the shape of his penis, erect beneath white cotton briefs, that has me inhaling sharply.
“Wow.”
Only when I hear Roger’s chuckle do I realize that I said the word aloud. In the car I couldn’t see the entire length and girth. But now…
I glance up at him and grin. “This is…fucking impressive,” I tell him bluntly.
I pull down his briefs, hold his cock in my hands. He’s got to be a good nine, ten inches. More than enough.
As I stroke him, inhale the scent of him, my pussy gets wet. I lower myself to my knees and take him into my mouth.
Roger starts to groan. Up and down, I move my lips over his shaft. He tangles his fingers in my hair as his groans grow louder. I take him as far into my mouth as I can, to the back of my throat. My fingers travel up his inner thigh, to his testicles. I massage them as I continue to work my mouth over his cock.
“Jeez,” he mutters, and then he grips my shoulders and pulls me upward. “I don’t want to come yet,” he whispers in my ear. He licks my earlobe, then my jawline, and then sucks my bottom lip into his mouth.
A moment later he urges me backward onto the bed. I land on the mattress with a soft thud. I love Roger’s smile. It’s hot and sweet at the same time.
He spreads my legs, and soon his smile disappears between my thighs.
The first brush of his tongue against my clitoris is pure heaven. His tongue moves slowly at first, back and forth across my clit. Then he picks up speed, lapping at my pussy as though he can’t get enough of me.
I moan, arch my back. Roger splays a hand across my stomach, holding me in place. Then he draws my clitoris completely into his mouth and sucks on me so softly and sweetly the pleasure is torturous.
“Oh my God.” I thrash my head around, and my hands. After a moment I settle my hands on my nipples and squeeze.
I cry out when Roger spreads my lips and dips his tongue into my opening. And when he flicks his hot tongue over my nub once again, I start to come.
“Fuck, Roger!” My orgasm moves through me like a giant wave. “Put your cock in me right now.
Please
.”
But he doesn’t stop eating my pussy until another orgasm rips through me. The second one leaves me quivering and whimpering. Only then does Roger’s tongue relent. My breathing ragged, I lie with my eyes closed. I hear the sound of a condom opening, and seconds later Roger’s body covers mine.
He kisses me. Lord, the man knows how to kiss a woman.
With his tongue in my mouth, he guides his cock into my pussy. The first, sweet thrust leaves me breathless.
“Damn, baby.” I gasp as his cock fills me. I run my hands over Roger’s back, grip his flesh, dig my nails into his skin. “Gawd…”
Roger braces his hands behind my knees and thrusts his cock in and out of me. Pleasure flows like liquid heat through my veins.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Roger tells me, and I do.
With my arms around his neck, he spins onto his back, taking me with him. His cock reaches deep inside me, and I gasp from the intense pleasure. He lifts his head and takes one of my nipples into his mouth. He sucks on it hard.
“Roger…”
“Damn, baby. Your pussy!
Shit!
”
I move my hips up and down, sliding my vagina up and down his penis. Just when I think I might come again, Roger moves me off his body and onto the bed.
I moan in protest, but he moves behind me and pulls me to my knees. Then I feel his tongue on my pussy again, and I bite down on my bottom lip to quiet my scream of pure bliss.
And when Roger enters me from this position, it’s the ultimate ecstasy. He doesn’t even have to thrust to intensify my pleasure.
But he does thrust, in and out, in and out, the velocity increasing with each stroke.
He pulls out completely, then enters me fully and asks, “You like that?”
“Yes…”
“Damn, I love the way yo’ pussy feels on my dick. Tight and wet.” He slips his hands between my legs and massages me. “I wanna fuck this pussy all damn day, and all night…make you come a hundred times…”