Material Girl

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Authors: Keisha Ervin

Material Girl
 
 
 
 
Keisha Ervin
 
 
 
 
 
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Dedication
 
I dedicate this book to you, the readers. It has been six years since
Me and My Boyfriend
hit bookshelves around the world, and you all have been ridin’ wit’ me ever since. If it wasn’t for your commitment and love toward my work, I would not be here. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and I pray that we continue on this journey for many more years to come.
Acknowledgments
 
Lord, I feel more connected to you than ever. I have finally learned to be patient and to not let things worry me as much, and that is through your Word and my undying faith. Please continue to shower me with your love, mercy, and grace.
Kyrese, OMG, how I raised such a funny, smart, charismatic, and charming young man, I don’t know. You are the epitome of everything I prayed you would be. I love you with every fiber of my being.
Words can’t express how much I love, appreciate, adore, admire, and respect my family and friends. You all have been my sounding board, backbone, comfort, and support. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.
 
“I used to write about finding love. Now I want to write about what happens after you’ve found it.”
—Carrie Bradshaw
 
“This may come, this may come as some surprise, but I miss you.”
—Sade, “Is It a Crime”
 
Chapter 1
 
Dylan Monroe was the type of chick most females loved to hate. Her ego was as wide as the equator and as long as the Mississippi. Everything from her vintage Dior shades to her YSL nail polish screamed diva
,
but she had every reason to feel like she was that bitch. Since the age of fifteen, she’d been rockin’ Louboutin red bottoms. Taking trips to Paris and St. Tropez was like going to the mall for her.
She’d dated all types of men: white, Latino, Arabic, doctors, lawyers, and politicians. A-List celebrity men, such as the uber famous star of a pirate movie franchise, and even the notorious dread-head rapper from Louisiana had spent sex-crazed, alcohol-induced nights in her bed. For a while she was even one of the many mistresses of a certain famous golf player. Dylan thought about leaking the affair to the media, but she was too embarrassed to come forward. Chicks often hated her and called her a slut, but what people didn’t understand was that Dylan didn’t sleep with random guys just for the pleasure of it. She did it because she thought that maybe, just maybe, one of them could be “the one.”
Yep, Dylan had slept with them all, but none matched the swagger of the one she couldn’t have. His name stayed tattooed on her brain. He was the persistent hunger pang in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away.
For months Dylan had tried her best to put him out of her mind. She’d prayed to God on a nightly basis to help her get over him. She’d torn up all of his pictures, took his number out of her phone, and told her friends to never utter his name, but there he was.
Dylan’s heart thumped loudly in her chest as the palms of her hands moistened with sweat, almost causing her to drop the glass of Chardonnay she held. She could smell the sweet scent of his Clive Christian cologne all the way from across the room. It was strong, intimidating, and overpowering, just like he was.
Sure, other men donned the scent, but none wore it quite like him. She wondered, if she kissed his skin, would it still taste the same on her tongue? Dylan turned around slowly and braced her rapidly beating heart for the sight of his face. Through the crowd of concertgoers she spotted him. He looked even better than he had six months before.
State was the epitome of what a man was supposed to be. He possessed heart-palpitation, dry-mouth, can’t-even-speak good looks. Women across the country pined to be with him. Hailing from Hackney, London, he was six feet, 190 pounds; a Sierra Leonean and Ghanaian god with skin the color of dark chocolate. He owned a thriving record label, a clothing company, two restaurants, and was the co-owner of a professional basketball team.
That night he wore a black L.A. cap, which covered his low cut with waves, but enhanced his piercing brown eyes, defined nose, come-kiss-me lips, and goatee. He rocked your typical hoodboy attire, but with finesse. Dylan swore she never saw a man make a black leather jacket, white V-neck tee, Artful Dodger jeans, and tan suede Tims look so good. He donned a simple yet stunning gold rosary and a Nixon watch.
Not only was he rich and successful, State was her first in every significant moment in her life. He was the first man to ever say no to her, the first to make her want to settle down, the first she’d ever said I love you to, picked out rings with, and made wedding plans with. He was the first man she’d ever become pregnant by, and the first she’d ever had an abortion for. But most importantly, he was the first man to ever break her heart.
In the beginning, what they shared was only supposed to be a casual fling. Dylan never saw herself getting her feelings into it, but soon she found herself out in the streets, calling him her baby. An on-again, off-again three-year relationship filled with mind-numbing sex, shopping sprees, weekend getaways, an unexpected pregnancy, and the promise of them one day getting married had her stuck for a minute.
For a while, Dylan was content with their chaotic relationship, but she didn’t realize that the side effects of dating him may include:
A) Nausea
B) Insomnia
C) Loss of appetite
D) Headache
E) Weight loss
F) Depression
G) Not answering her phone calls at night
H) Non-stop crying until he answered the phone
I) Never wanting to socialize with her friends
J) Random chicks mean-muggin’ her in the club
K) Magnum condoms found in the glove compartment of his car when they went raw
L) Bacterial infection
Tyrannical outbursts when confronted about side effects G, H, I, J, K
Dylan thought things would change, but as soon as State took the proposal of marriage off the table and gave her $500 to have an abortion, she knew she couldn’t play the role of a kept woman anymore. Fed up, she hit State with a text message calling it quits, and decided to keep it moving—until now.
Dylan stood paralyzed. Loud music echoed in her ear. Men scrambled for drinks, while lines of women awaited their time in the mirror before Wale came out on stage to perform. But Dylan was in her own world. How well Wale could rhyme and how much he could get it didn’t mean a thing to her anymore. She was stuck on a tightrope between her heart and common sense. To her, State was the one thing she couldn’t have. His love and commitment was something so unattainable, yet she would give her right rib to retain it.
Dylan was so caught up in his presence that when he noticed her watching him, she had no time to look away. Before she knew it, he was coming her way. Dylan quickly swallowed the huge lump in her throat and gathered her emotions, but the closer State neared, the more she felt faint. None of this was supposed to be happening.
When she left her house, it had been just another typical Saturday night. She’d spent two hours getting her hair and makeup done only to be an hour late to the Grey Goose Presents: Rising Icons concert featuring Wale, who she planned on taking home with her that night. Unwilling to look completely lame, Dylan quickly grabbed the arm of a random cutie and acted as if they knew one another.
“Long time no see,” she said with a smile.
“Excuse me?” The guy looked at her, confused.
“Shhh. Play along.” She spoke out of the side of her mouth.
“Dylan?” State said, standing before her.
Dylan turned her attention from the guy and eyed State as if she didn’t recognize him.
“Really, Dylan?” He looked at her like she was being ridiculous.
“Ohhhhh, State, my bad.” She slapped her hand against her forehead. “How are you?” She hugged him.
“Good. Wassup wit’ you?” He smiled, wrapping his strong arms around her slim waist.
“Nothing,” she gushed nervously, hugging him back tight.
Please don’t smell him. Please don’t smell him,
she thought as her nose met with the side of his neck.
Fuck
! She closed her eyes, cherishing the scent.
“Damn.” He stepped back, still holding her hands. “You look incredible.”
“This old thing?” Dylan looked down at her brand new fuchsia double breasted blazer, black tank top, Fiona Paxton two-toned beaded necklace, black ripped leggings, and Alexander McQueen booties.
“Old or new you, look good as a muthafucka,” State confessed, massaging the sides of her waist while giving her body a once-over glance.
Dylan’s entire body blushed.
To State, she was stunningly beautiful, but in her own unique way. She had a hard but chic edge to her. She rocked her hair in an asymmetrical bob like Rihanna. The two even looked alike. Her skin was a sweet shade of butterscotch, while her eyes were hazel with flecks of green. An array of small tattoos adorned her body, and State wanted nothing more than to take the time with his tongue to find them all.
Okay, Dylan, say something witty and clever,
she thought.
“You look . . .” She pointed at his broad chest. “Umm . . .” She looked toward the guy she had been standing with and tried to change the subject. “You know I went to school with—” She realized she didn’t know his name. “Oh my God . . . yeah, so . . .” She laughed.
Okay, dummy, pull it together and don’t ask who he’s here with. You don’t care,
she told herself.
“So, you here by yourself?” she asked anyway.
“Yeah, I just swung through for a quick minute. You mind introducing me to your man?”
“Honey, please.
This is not my man
,” she stressed. “State, this is my friend ... Timmmm—”
“Corey.” The guy spoke up and reached out his hand for a shake.
“Yeah, Corey and I were just catching up on old times. You know . . . gettin’ jiggy wit’ it.” Dylan twisted her butt, doing the old school dance.
Oh my God! Did that just happen?
“You mind if I speak to you in private?” State gestured toward the other side of the room.
“Sure. I’ll talk to you later, Corey!” she said over her shoulder.
He put his hands up to his mouth and yelled back, “But I don’t even know you, lady!”
“That Corey is such a mess.” Dylan laughed, waving him off.
“Sure he is.” State replied, knowing good and well that Dylan didn’t know Corey from a can of paint. “But anyway, if I knew you were gonna be here, I would’ve got here a lot sooner.”
“Is that right?” Dylan tilted her head to the side, not believing him.
“Fuck yeah. I miss the hell outta you,” he answered honestly.
“I can’t tell. I haven’t heard from you in months,” she countered.
“I mean, what was I supposed to do? You just sent me a text like, that’s it, I’m done.”
“And your reply was okay.”
“You made it seem like you had your mind made up, so I had no choice but to go along with what you were sayin’.”
“Mm-hmm.” Dylan twisted her lips to the side as if to say she didn’t believe him.
“But anyway, how you doing? How you been?”
“Good.”
“You know, it’s crazy how I’m running into you like this ’cause I just told C.I. the other day that I wanted to speak to you.” C.I. was State’s cousin and his lawyer.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, it’s been so much shit I wanted to say.”
“Like what?”
“First, let me apologize for anything I did that made you cry. And I know you might be thinkin’
niggah, please
, but that’s real talk. I wish that we could go back to the first time we fucked around and do things right, ’cause honestly, my life ain’t been nothing without you.”
Dylan wanted to take his words with a grain of salt, but State always knew the right words to get inside her head. She wished she could say that love didn’t live in her heart anymore for him, but it did, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get him out of her system.
“I missed you too,” Dylan opened up and confessed.
“C’mon.” He extended his hand.
“Where we going? The concert is about to start.”
“Man, fuck that. Let’s go back to the crib.”
Dylan couldn’t even front and act like she didn’t want to. “I was thinking the exact same thing.” She placed down her drink and took his hand.
 
 
The next thing Dylan knew, she and State were no longer discussing what they’d been up to or how much they’d missed seeing each other. Instead, moans of gratification filled her bedroom as he rocked inside her slowly. The ten inches of hard, pulsating dick inside her was thick and delicious.
“Shhhhhhhit,” she groaned as she bounced up and down on his cock.
Sure, it was wrong, sleeping with a man she’d sworn off months earlier, but the sensation of him penetrating her and his lips and tongue gliding across her throat was spellbinding. Dylan wrapped her arms around his back and held on tight.

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