Maneater (9 page)

Fletcher guided my hand to his chest. The sensation of the wet fishnet strumming beneath my wrinkled fingertips made me want to rip off his shirt. “Your chest is strong, smooth,” I moaned, circling his nipples between the knitted strands. “You're making me wet all over.”

“And you've got my dick hard as a hammer,” he said, lifting me onto his lap. “I want you to feel me pressed up against you. Feel my energy travel all over your body. Give me your energy, Seven. I want all of you.”

My clit brushed against his dick head. Gripping his shoulders, I bore down on him. I couldn't stop cumming. I felt his shaft throbbing. I screamed, “Oh, my God,” so loud, I swore everyone in the world, including Zena, heard me.

Fletcher held me close. My cheek firmly rested against his cheek. Fletcher had mentally seduced me to an orgasm without any penetration. Maverick had never done that.

“Seven, you are one special lady. I want to dry you off, then put you in the bed so you can relax. The night is young, and I'm not done making you cum. I am just getting started. I hope I get to share my bigmouth bass dick with you so I can deeply pleasure you and your pretty punany.”

“Fletcher?”

“Yes.”

“Talk real dirty to me this time.”

F
riends forever.

I missed my girl Seven. Kind of took her friendship for granted. Figured she'd always be in my life. Talked daily, several times a day, about everything, sometimes nothing, holding the phone while watching the presidential debates,
America's Next Top Model,
or
Boston Legal
until she fell asleep on me. The things we'd done together, I hated doing alone. Wasn't sure if she was safe, dead. Worried all the time now. Replayed her voice in my mind.
I'm leaving in the morning.

Couldn't report her missing. She'd been gone long enough. Seventy-two hours. My concern was I was the last person seen with her. Crazy cops would investigate me first. Didn't need them snooping into my personal and professional life.

“Zena! Who give you this piece of shit?” Deuce asked, storming into my bedroom.

“What?” I asked, staring at the contract. “Oh, that. Maverick Maxamillion wants me to do his PR. I thought you were resting on the sofa.”

“He thinks my baby is a fool! Have you read this?” Deuce asked. Veins popped on his forehead and neck.

“I'm not signing it,” I said, reaching for the contract.

“You're damn right you're not signing it!” he said, refusing to let go. “I'm going to take this to him personally and make him wipe his ass with it!” Deuce stomped out of my bedroom.

“Deuce, wait,” I called out too late. I heard my front door close.

Deuce had stopped by, crashed on the sofa, then left with my contract. I exhaled. I had to get ready for my date.

With the fifty-grand cashier's check Maverick had given me, I could solicit new business. But until then, the check would be in my safety-deposit box at my bank. I laid the check on my desk, removed Seven's fiery red laptop from the bag, powered it on to see if the password she'd shared with me worked. Typed in her user name: Seven Stephens. Entered her password, a combination of alternating letters and numbers: p8n2n9p2r2d4s3.

Log-on successful.

When I clicked on the drop-down box, no links appeared. I double clicked on the Memoirs folder, expecting to find baby pictures of Seven with her parents, high school and college graduation snapshots.

Frowning, I whispered, “Are you serious? Is that Seven? Naked? Having sex with
four
men?”

Zoomed. Zoomed again on the first photo in the gallery. Two men standing on opposite sides of her, titties meshed together, pinching her nipples between their fingertips. One lay underneath her, his dick deep inside my girl. In another photo, a woman with her face buried in Seven's bush, licking her pussy while staring up at the guys. Seven's back was arched, her head tilted, eyes shut, mouth wide open, as she firmly gripped two thick dicks, those of the guys to her left and her right.

Zoomed again to see if my girl was on drugs. Couldn't tell with her eyes closed.

My pussy twitched. Lust consumed me as I wondered what her sexcapade had felt like. The next pic, girl gone. Replacement, a guy. His dick in Seven's pussy.

“I thought the guy on the bottom was in her pus…aw, hell no.” Maybe the man on the bottom wasn't inside her ass but had his dick stuck between her butt cheeks.

WARNING
.
LOW BATTERY
.
POWERING OFF
.

“No,” I yelled. There were 298 more pictures in the gallery.

Digging in Seven's laptop bag, I grumbled, “Oh, my god.” No power cord. Did she always carry a gun?

Wished we had identical computers instead of matching cars. Both parked in my garage. My fingerprints on her steering wheel, her laptop, and her gun. What if she'd…
Zena, don't be stupid.

I placed the gun and her laptop inside her bag on the floor next to my desk, looked at the cashier's check on my desk. Shaking my head, I exhaled, “Whew.” Then I got in the shower.

Loyalty didn't have a price. I was glad and pissed she'd left her laptop with me. Had Maverick seen those XXX photos? “Of course not,” I said aloud. I had to buy a power cord. Had to see the other pictures. Maybe the gun was a sex prop. I aimed the showerhead directly at my pussy, and my thoughts traveled to sexual nooks and crannies, making me cum.

“Focus, Zena, focus…okay, I'm good,” I told myself, wiping my eyebrows, swiping my eyelids. Patting my pussy with a towel, I went to my desk, gazed at the check.

The fifty thousand from Maverick was tempting, as was the hundred grand a month, until I'd read that ignoramus's contract. Enough to pay off my mortgages and business loan in two years, but I might work my ass off and end up getting paid nothing. I understood why Deuce was pissed.

Why was it necessary for men to undermine women in business and in bed? Did Maverick honestly think I'd entertain letting him stick his dick in me, like Zena Belvedere could be bought?

Fuck Maverick and his money
.

Now Danté, that was who my pussy was so wet for. I fantasized about having him in my bed, his smooth, sexy head between my legs. His dick throbbing in my pussy as he fucked the shit out of me. If I had a hole in my head, I'd let that man stick his dick in it. “Indeed I would.” I danced from my bed to my closet, preparing for our date. A short strawberry red designer dress with a scoop in the back would grant him access to my radiant skin—back, arms, thighs, and legs.

Dialing Maverick's number while staring at the shoes in my closet, I clenched my teeth, despising him.
Scumbag
.

“Hey, Zena. For a moment I thought I had bad breath or something. You should've slept in my bed last night, not yours,” he said. “You didn't have to leave in the rain.”

“Have you heard from Seven?” I asked.

“Nah, have you? You're the one with her car and her computer.”

“I wouldn't have asked you if I had. Don't seem like you care much about her or me,” I said flatly.

Maverick yelled, “Don't tell me how the fuck I feel about my mother, you got that! Stay the fuck out of this, punk!”

“Excuse me? Are you okay? I didn't say anything about your deceased mother.” I was capable of being a bitch when necessary, but not toward the dead.

Maverick is crazy! Oh, God, I hope Seven is all right.

“I meant to say fiancée, not mother. I'll have Danté pick up the computer, the signed contract, and the car. Bitch, you stay the fuck away from me before you get hurt. It's all your fault Seven didn't tell me where she's at. Your ass knows where she is.”

Maverick was truly insane. Not my problem. Karma was his bitch. Wait until Deuce showed up at his office. We'd see who was the bitch.

“I told you the computer was left in your limo yesterday. Danté has it.” I hated lying on Danté but had no problem lying to Maverick. “I believe Seven said there's a hard copy of your wedding plan somewhere in the library at
your
house.”

“Zena Belvedere, do not fuck with me. I will shut your little agency down overnight. Get over here tonight,” Maverick demanded.

I played along. “Mind if I stop by tomorrow? I can bring your PR contract with me. Can I suck your dick?”

“Suck my dick? Tomorrow? Sure. Can't wait. See you then,” he said, ending the call.

Maverick was about to have his nuts blown off if he kept playing mind games with me. I wouldn't dare let him stick his dick in any part of me. He was either scheming or borderline schizophrenic.

Not me. Not this time. Crazy or sane, no man would use me to justify ending his relationship with my girlfriend. Been there before. Refused to betray another friend. I had to regain access to Seven's laptop. There was something more important on her hard drive than those pictures. More important than her leaving town to lose weight. I felt a chill, then shivered.

I draped three strands of elegant pink pearls around my neck; the longest strand discreetly tapped the area in front of my pussy. The other strands outlined my cleavage. Easing my toes into my leopard slip-on heels with pink trim, I stood before the full-length mirror, admiring myself. It'd been months since I'd invested three hours in preparing for a date. I prayed Danté didn't show up at my house, driving his limo. When I released the clamp from my hair, silky curls flowed over my shoulders.

Puckering my moist lips, I brushed on strawberry and cream glitter gloss seconds before my home phone rang. Eagerly I answered, “Hello.”

“It's me,” he said in the sexiest voice. “I'm at your gate. Let me in.”

Damn.
I exhaled, entered my code to open the front gate, then peeped out my window, waiting to see what car would arrive in my circular driveway. “Damn.” My hopes went unanswered when I saw that limo.

“Oh, well…Wait. Being chauffeured on a date could make for interesting role play.”

After returning to my bedroom for a final overview of my attire and to get my handbag, I strolled to the door, my bright smile leading the way. When I opened it, Danté stood there, with a gorgeous bouquet of yellow and pink roses, which widened my smile.

“For a lovely woman, with gratitude and appreciation for allowing me to share your company this evening,” Danté said, standing outside my door.

No gesture from him for a hug or kiss. Maybe his driving the limo wasn't so bad. I could sit in the front with him. Close to him. Close enough for him to have one hand on the steering wheel, the other touching me. Regardless, I'd have a great time. It'd been too long since my last date and humanly assisted orgasm. In case we didn't get together again, I'd fuck him tonight. Why not?

“Come in,” I said, leaving him the foyer.

I went to my bedroom, arranged the flowers in a tall purple vase, and then we walked outside. A driver got out of the limo, opening the door for us.

I smiled. What would sex in the back of a limo feel like cruising seventy miles per hour on the freeway, with the top open?

“After you,” Danté said.

Hopefully, that applied to everything we'd do tonight.

D
anté looked like the type of man who could fuck me ruff and hard, then nice and slow. He probably didn't want kids, but he'd make beautiful chocolate babies. He was probably like me, married to his job. And it wouldn't surprise me if he had several women in his life, whom he'd fucked right here in his limo, on these black leather seats. Who cared? Not me. I wasn't interested in marrying him. I wanted to suck his dick, then spit out his seeds.

“So,” Danté said, “what do you think about me?”

He'd left room for an entire person to sit between us.

“Charming,” I said, crossing my legs, stretching them in his direction.

“Charming. That's it?” he asked, smiling.

Matching his smile, I said, “Don't know your middle or last names, address, dating history, the real reason you invited me out, or your mother. Charming is appropriate.”

“Middle name, Danté. First name, Demarcus. Last, Davis.”

Prejudged that one incorrectly.

“Dating history. Haven't been out with a woman in over six months.”

Liar.

“Haven't had sex with a woman in over six months.”

Double liar.

“I'm a workaholic.” He smiled as he gave me his address. “And I asked you out because you're beautiful, sexy, brilliant, and you're perfect,” he said, touching his nose to the back of my hand, then inhaling.

Shaking my head, I placed my hand in my lap, then replied, “You don't know that.”

“Haven't been wrong about a woman since my divorce.”

Sounded bitter. My pussy didn't want to hear any ex-wife drama. Not tonight. “How long have you worked for Maverick?” I asked, staring into his eyes.

He stared back. “Don't work for Maverick. Work for myself. Own my own company. Been driving Maverick and his clients around for seven years. Before he had real money, I took care of him. Gave him a break. Two-for-one discounts. He's loyal to me. I'm loyal to him. Strictly business,” Danté said. “If I knew there was going to be an interview, I would've applied for the job.”

The driver parked in front of the House of Blues.

“Why here?” I asked.

“Love the drinks. Like the food. Can't beat the entertainment. We can go somewhere else if you want,” he offered.

“This is good,” I said, getting out of the limo, thinking about the last time I'd been here with Seven. Missed her terribly.

I drank more champagne than I ate of my Voodoo Shrimp or spinach and strawberry salad. Danté ate more of his Southern Seafood Bake, with shrimp, crab, rice, mushrooms, and red bell peppers, than he drank.

He leaned forward, then whispered across the table, “You're incredibly gorgeous. I want you. I'm asking. Please say yes.”

I leaned back against my chair, not wanting to anxiously accept his offer. “To do what?” I asked.

“Nothing. I don't mind doing all the work tonight,” he said. “You ready…for me?”

I nodded.

A few minutes later, the tab was paid and we were back in the limo headed to…I wasn't sure, but I would shortly know.

Cuddling in Danté's arms, I relaxed all the way to…my house. Actually, my place was better. I'd be more comfortable with him in my space.

The driver opened the door; I led the way straight to my bedroom.

Danté held my face in his palms, gently looked into my eyes, then said, “Thanks for a great evening. Thank you for letting me into your home. I promise I won't disappoint you.”

His muscular hands slid my straps over my shoulders, down my arms, easing my dress and thong over my hips. Scooping me into his arms, he carried me to my bed, then laid me atop my leopard comforter.

“Keep on the shoes and the pearls,” he said, parting my legs and placing the pearls in his mouth.

His wet lips grazed my clit. His tongue swiped first over, then under, the pearls, making me wetter, hornier, on the verge of cumming. His tongue slowly slid up my shaft, returning to my clit.

Yes, Lord.
My body shivered with pleasure. The snapshot of Seven having sex with four men came into view. For a moment I imagined I was Seven. Every part of my body sizzled. I moaned, “Finger fuck me, Danté.”

He did. Stuffing my pearls inside my pussy with every stroke.

As he strummed my G-spot with my pearls, his tongue fluttered along my wet pussy.

“Fuck me, Danté,” I said, sliding closer to my headboard, popping the pearls out of my pussy one at a time.

He followed me to the top of my bed. Big dick in hand, swollen head leading the way. He slid his dick in. Which was hotter, his dick or my vagina, I couldn't tell. I didn't care. I gripped the pearls in my fist, along with the comforter. My pussy greedily tried to swallow his throbbing dick. His muscles contracted. My muscles contracted.

“Damn, woman,” he said, holding me tight. His body jerked several times. “Come with me, Zena,” he moaned.

I hung the pearls around his neck, then exhaled. “Wait.” I braced my hand on his hairy chest.

Frowning, he shivered, then whispered, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I want your dick in my mouth. Lie down for me.” Had to get his dick out of my pussy. Abstinence, oral sex, and condoms were my contraceptives.

Trading positions, Danté was lying on the bed, with legs spread wide.

My tongue traced the protruding rim of his dick, easing down his shaft to his balls, then up to the ridge right underneath his head. Softly, I wrapped the pearls around his slippery shaft, sucked his head into my mouth, holding my hand tightly around the base of his penis, locking in the blood. I savored his sweet thickness. Letting the pearls fall to his balls, I held his head against the G-spot in the back of my throat, held my breath. My pussy dripped cum with overdue pleasure.

“Umm,” I hummed. Felt so good having a dick in my mouth. I loved giving head. Loved having my lips wrapped around his shaft. I paused, closing my eyes. A long, steady flow of air filled my lungs. “Yes.” Taking him deeper into my mouth, I sucked, licked, came, sucked, licked, and came some more until I could taste precum oozing out of his dick. Eyeing him, I asked, “You have a condom for this deliciously big, pretty-ass dick of yours?”

He exhaled, “Yeah, in my pocket. Put it on for me, will you, baby?”

Baby.
The word danced with my spirit. Wished he were all mine. It would be heavenly to come home to a man, a husband, who didn't want kids. Cuddle with him in front of my wood-burning fireplace. Wake up with him in my bed every morning instead of every once in a while. Hoped this wasn't my last time with Danté. He felt so damn amazing. If Seven wasn't using her wedding gown, if Maverick wasn't marrying Seven, Danté and I could star in our own version of
Madea's Family Reunion
and get married.

Tossing the pearls to the floor, I got up, got the condom, opened the pack. Sucking the tip into my mouth, my lips tight, I gradually rolled the condom over his head, down his shaft, then mounted him.

Curling my fingers, I swear I wanted to scream, “Lord, Jesus!” when I sat on his dick. I eased up, held my hips above his, keeping the head in, trying not to cum right away with his head throbbing against my G-spot.

“You okay?” he asked, placing his hands on my hips.

I nodded. “Better than okay.”

“I love your energy, Zena. I can tell you want me as much as I want you. Thank you for sharing your beautiful body with me.”

He lifted me off of him, slid from underneath me; we traded places again. This time his tongue circled my areola. Narrowing in on my nipple, he bit hard enough to evoke submissive pain, sucked firm enough to please me, making me cum again.

The next three hours I'd cum, he'd cum, and I'd cum over and over until I surrendered to the uncontrollable orgasms auditioning for matrimony in my vagina.

The last words I recalled hearing before falling asleep at three in the morning were, “Baby, I see why I was intimidated by you. You are a real woman.”

 

The sound of my front door closing awakened me at seven-thirty. The sunlight was in my eyes; the pearls were in my bed. I hurried to the living room, opened my door in time to see Danté's limo cruising toward the security gate. Maybe he had to pick up a client and didn't want to wake me. A kiss on the cheek, lips, or a quickie would've been considerate.

“Oh, well. My pussy feels great,” I said, skipping to my bedroom.

Glancing around, I noticed that my dress and thong were on the floor, beside my bed. I picked them up, headed toward the bathroom. Passing my desk, I stopped, took a few steps back, then stared.

Seven's laptop, and the cashier's check, were gone.