“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” Dylan squealed, feeling an orgasm near. “Baby, you feel so good. Ooooh.”
“You feel good too, baby.” He slowed down his pace, hitting her with only rough, slow pumps.
“Oooooh ... baby . . . that’s my spot!” Dylan screamed, clawing the sheets.
“You love me?” he questioned, feeling the nut build up in the tip of his dick.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“You wanna have my baby?”
“Yes.”
“A boy or a girl?” he groaned.
“A girl.” Dylan shrieked as she and State came at the same time.
Spent from the night before, Dylan sat upright in bed with the sheets covering her hard nipples. State’s room was immaculate. Everything was top of the line. The walls were a calming shade of gray, while his platform bed was brown with a yellow headboard. By the bed was a beautifully crafted portrait by Robert Geveke.
State stood before her with only a towel draped around his defined waist. He’d just gotten out of the shower. Beads of water trickled down his chest, slowly landing in the place she wanted to bury her face. Flashbacks of the thick ten inches of wonder he possessed sliding in and out of her mouth filled her mind. The thought caused Dylan’s mouth to water and her pussy to soak with sticky cream. State was so delicious.
Just looking at him ignited a flame deep inside her heart. There wasn’t anything about him she didn’t adore, and in a perfect world, they would get married, have beautiful babies, and grow old together; but nothing in life was perfect, nor was her relationship.
Dylan still couldn’t conjure up the nerve to tell her friends they were back together. Plus, all of the lying and sneaking around she’d been doing was starting to wear on her nerves. Tried of living a lie, Dylan made it up in her mind that now was the time to tell the truth.
“I’m thinking of tellin’ the girls that we’re back together,” she announced suddenly as State took off his towel and placed on his boxer briefs.
“Really?” He stopped and paused. “What made you decide that?”
“Come on. You know how they feel about you.”
“They, as in Billie, you mean?” State turned and shot her a look.
“Yeah.” Dylan put her head down.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t told anyone either.”
“That’s because you don’t have any real friends. All you have is industry friends, also known as associates.”
“That’s not true. What about C.I.?”
“He doesn’t count. He’s your cousin.” Dylan laughed. “And if that’s the case, why haven’t you told him?” She eyed him quizzically.
“I don’t know. I haven’t put that much thought into it, I guess.”
“Wow . . .” she replied visibly hurt. “That makes me feel good.”
“Nah. I ain’t sayin’ it like that. I just felt that we should keep it between us,” he said, trying to regain control of the situation.
“Oh.”
“Look.” He put on his Michael Kors dress pants then sat beside her. “Stop trippin’ off that shit. If homegirl ain’t wit’ it, then fuck it. You gotta live yo’ life for you. It ain’t like you fuckin’ her or are you?” he joked, placing his head back.
“Don’t play wit’ me.” She playfully pushed him in the chest.
“I’m just sayin’. You ain’t living your life for them. You gotta make you happy. And I know we had our issues in the past, but things are different now. I’m yours and you mine. Ain’t no middle man. Hopefully your homegirl can get wit’ it. If not, then, oh well.”
“I guess you’re right.” She shrugged, still unsure.
“You know I’m right.”
“What if after I tell them, we all get together for dinner and drinks?”
“I don’t know about that.” State shook his head while tying his tie. He didn’t want to risk his extramarital affair getting back to Ashton.
“Pleeeeeeease. I really want you to know my friends better.”
“I already know what I need to know about ’em. Billie’s stuck up, and Tee-Tee’s a fag.”
“Heeeey!” She threw her pillow at him. “Watch your mouth.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Okay, then, I want them to get to know you better. They’ve only been around you a couple times, and I think if they spent more time with you, they would have a different opinion of you.”
“I don’t really care what they think about me.”
“But I do. I want them to know that you’re funny and charming and sweet.”
“As long as you know that, that’s all that matters.”
“C’mon, State. Just do it for me.” She batted her eyes.
“Look, I said no!” he snapped. “Damn . . . you gettin’ on my nerves wit’ that shit. I don’t like them muthafuckas.” He pointed his hand. “Them yo’ friends. You go have drinks wit’ ’em.”
Dylan’s mouth flew open. She was shocked. Pissed that he had the nerve to come at her crazy, she cocked her neck back and prepared herself to go into ghetto-girl mode, but before she could, State checked himself and apologized.
“My bad.” He tried taking her hands, but Dylan drew them away. “I ain’t mean to bark on you like that, but I ain’t really feelin’ being around yo’ peoples like that.”
“It’s all good, ’cause by the way you actin’, I don’t want yo’ ass around. You got me fucked up, talkin’ to me out the side of yo’ neck. And who gives a fuck about you not liking my friends? They don’t like yo’ ass either!” She snatched the covers off of her and tried to get up, but State pushed her back down.
“If you don’t move yo’ big ass out my way,” she warned. Dylan played a lot of games, but not when it came to her friends.
“Stop being so damn dramatic. Look, if it’ll make you happy, I’ll go,” he lied.
“Don’t do me no favors.”
“A’ight, you can chill wit’ the Bonquisha-from-the-block shit. I said I’d go, and I meant it,” he lied again.
“Mm-hmm.” Dylan looked the other way and crossed her arms.
“We cool?”
“Yeah,” she said, still upset.
“I don’t like the way you said it. Are we cool?” State made her face him and placed his forehead on hers.
“I said yeah.” She laughed.
“Well, act like it then.” He pressed his lips up against hers and rotated between sucking her top and bottom.
“But check it: I’m finna shake. I’m running late as hell.” He quickly kissed her lips once more. “Lock up before you go.”
“I will. Have a good day.”
“You too.” He grabbed his cell phone and keys.
“And don’t forget to call me!” she yelled after him.
“I’ll think about it,” he teased, closing the front door behind him.
“How could you be so heartless?”
Chapter 5
“Kyrese, come and help me with these bags,” Billie said to her ten-year-old son as she entered through the front door of her spacious apartment.
She and her husband of eleven years, St. Louis Rams superstar Cain Townsend, along with their three children, Kyrese and twins Kenzie and Kaylee, had lived there for the past three years—until Cain announced he wanted a separation and he moved out. It was one of their many homes, and one of Billie’s favorites. Unlike most NFL wives, she wasn’t afforded the pleasure of having a maid or a chef. Cain felt since he was the breadwinner, she should be a stay at home mom—and in every sense of the word, she was. Billie couldn’t even take a vacation without him. She took the kids back and forth to piano and karate lessons, participated in school plays, and kept up a nice home, all while presiding over numerous organizations. It was hard work, but somebody had to do it.
Billie waited at the bottom of the stairs for her son, who still hadn’t come down.
“Kyrese! I know you hear me!”
“Ma’am?” He came stomping to the top of the steps.
“If you don’t bring yo’ ass down here and help me with these bags, I swear to God I’ma punch you in the throat!”
“Why can’t Daddy help you?” he asked, taking the bags from her hands.
“’Cause first of all, I didn’t know your father was here, and second, because I asked you, that’s why.” She shot him a look then walked up the steps and entered the kitchen.
Billie loved her kitchen. The space was huge, 1200 square feet to be exact. The custom designed cabinets were made of Wenge, an imported hardwood. Stainless steel countertops mingled with earth tones, including red, yellow, and orange glass tiles on the backsplash. A six-burner cooktop island sat in the middle of the room underneath an exhaust hood. The see-through refrigerator, two ovens, and a microwave were built into the wall.
“And where is Mrs. Robertson?” she asked her son, referring to their next door neighbor who sometimes helped her with the kids.
“Daddy told her she could go.”
“Where is your father anyway?”
“In the room on the phone.”
“When did he get here?”
“Ummm . . .” Kyrese thought. “About a half an hour ago.”
“And where are your sisters?”
“In the sitting room watchin’
True Jackson VP
and they gettin’ on my nerves.”
“Kyrese, according to you, everybody gets on your nerves.” Billie began unpacking the groceries.
“Nah, Ma, for real, straight up. Kaylee and Kenzie knew that I wanted to watch
Rob and Big
at eleven, but they gon’ try and be ignorant and go in there and turn on the TV at ten fifty-eight, talkin’ about they got there first.”
Billie couldn’t help but laugh. Kaylee and Kenzie were always trying to do something to aggravate their brother.
“I’ll talk to them. Tell them to come here.”
Kyrese placed his hands up to his mouth and yelled. “Kunta Kenzie and Kaylee, yo’ mama want you!”
“I said go get them, not scream from the kitchen, boy.” Billie thumped him in the back of his head.
“Ow, Mama! Dang, that hurt!” Kyrese massaged the sore spot.
“Yes, Mommy.” Kaylee and Kenzie skipped into the room looking as angelic as ever, even though they were too grown for their own good.
That afternoon, they both wore pink sleeveless ruffle dresses that Billie had bought in Paris. Seeing all of her children together brought an instant smile to her face. To her, they were the cutest kids on earth. They all possessed honey-colored skin and long, wild, curly brown hair. To most, Kyrese was the spitting image of Jaden Smith, while Kaylee and Kenzie reminded her of Sasha Obama.
“First off, would you like something to drink while I’m in here?” Billie asked. “’Cause when I leave out, I don’t wanna hear nothing about,
I’m thirsty, can I have this, can I have that
?”
“Chardonnay, please,” Kaylee said matter-of-factly.
“Li’l girl, don’t play wit’ me.”
“Aw, Mama, you’re no fun. Get wit’ it. Like Candy say, a li’l sip er’ now and then ain’t gon’ hurt nothin’.”
“Let’s not forget Candy is crazy, and anyway, why are you two tormenting your brother?”
“Who, us?” They both placed their hands up to their chests and looked around, stunned. “Why would we do such a thing like that, Mommy?” Kenzie batted her eyes.
“Let your brother watch TV.”
“But why?” Kaylee whined, jumping up and down. “We were there first!”
“Question me again and see what’s gon’ happen,” Billie warned, giving her the evil eye.
“But it’s not fair, Mommy!” Kaylee jumped in.
“Um, you heard what I said.”
“Daaaaaaady!” They both ran from the room in search of their father.
“I don’t know what you think that’s gon’ do!” Billie yelled after them. “Like he gon’ whoop me!” She turned her attention back to Kyrese. “Go on in the room and watch that TV, boy.”
“Thanks, Ma.” He smiled.
Billie rolled her eyes and continued to put up the food. Seconds later, Cain entered the kitchen. The smell of his Gucci cologne intoxicated her nose. Billie turned around and faced him. Cain wasn’t the finest man on earth, but every time she laid eyes on him, her heart would melt. He was a six foot, 230-pound chocolate quarterback with muscles the size of Zeus. Since the day they’d met in the quad during their freshman year of college, he’d made her feel that way.
But ten years into their marriage, things began to change. Someone finally saw the beauty she saw in him, and named him one of
People
magazine’s most beautiful people. Homeboy flipped and lost his mind. In the off season, instead of spending time with Billie and the kids, he was often found out of town, club-hoppin’ with his teammates. When they were together, the conversations they shared were forced, and when Billie tried to bring up her concerns about his behavior, the end result would be him grabbing his car keys and leaving.
Then the late night phone calls began, and the scent of another woman’s perfume was left in his clothes. Things got so bad that Cain stopped coming home at night. Billie did everything she could to get their marriage back on track: counseling, dressing up in lingerie, fuckin’ him in every position imaginable, and taking it in the ass. But nothing worked. Cain’s heart just wasn’t beating for her anymore. And the feeling of knowing that hurt like hell, but for the sake of their kids and her reputation, Billie pretended that everything was okay.
Then one day, Cain hit her with the hardest blow to her heart and announced that he was moving out and wanted to separate. That day, Billie swore that the entire neighborhood could hear her heart fall to the floor. A hurt like no other seeped through her veins.
She didn’t understand how Cain could look at her and not see how much she loved him. Was this really what she’d worked so hard for? Had she really upgraded him to be the perfect man for some other woman to reap the benefits? Did she put up with all of his lies and broken promises for nothing? Didn’t all the times he’d hurt her and put tears on her face count for anything? Didn’t she deserve some kind of recognition for all of that?
For weeks after that, Billie lay in bed, crying and wondering why. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why Cain would want to be with someone else. All he needed was her. She was his wife and the mother of his kids. Hadn’t she been enough? But then Billie thought maybe being just enough was the problem. She should’ve been more. So here she was, three months later, still wishing and praying that one day she would have her family back and Cain would come to his senses and return home.
“Wassup wit’ you?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She smiled, happy to be in his presence. “Did your daughters come and tell on me?”
“Yeah, they did. I told them I would whoop you later.”
“Really? How about now?” She stuck her butt out.
“If you don’t put that shit up . . .” He took a seat at the island and looked at her.
Billie wasn’t a size four anymore, but no man could deny how pretty she was. She was a five foot eight inch diva with diamond-shaped eyes. Whenever she smiled, a slight glimmer of a dimple graced her left cheek. Her long, jet black hair and Chinese-cut bangs highlighted her high cheekbones. The black Fendi pinwheel cardigan and cream-colored short full skirt enhanced her size twelve curves.
Billie caught him staring at her and asked, “What, you see something you like?”
“Wouldn’t you like if I did?” Cain slightly chuckled.
“Whateva. You know we gon’ have to start planning the kids’ party. Their birthday is in a few months.”
“Damn, it’s that time already,” Cain replied.
“Oh my God!” Billie shouted, spinning around. “I forgot. Today I’m supposed to have lunch with Dylan and Tee-Tee. Will you watch the kids for me?”
“Nah, I got someplace I need to be.”
“Where?”
“None of your business.” He looked at her funny.
“Whateva.” Billie waved him off. “I’ll just ask Mrs. Robertson if she’ll come back over. But if I may ask, what are you here for?”
“To see my kids,” Cain answered, taking out his cell phone. He’d gotten a text.
“Mm-hmm.” Billie resumed putting up the groceries. “What do you think we should do for the kids’ birthday?”
“I don’t know.”
“I was thinking maybe this year we should have a circus theme. What do you think about that?”
“Yeah, that shit is fucked up,” Cain answered as he replied back to the message.
“What?” Billie turned around. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what I just say?” She placed her hand on her hip.
“What the fuck? I’m listening!” Cain put the phone down, annoyed.
“No, you’re not! You too busy fooling wit’ that phone. Whoever that bitch is, she can wait.”
“Yo’, don’t start,” Cain warned, massaging his forehead.
“No, don’t you start,” Billie shot back. “I’m sittin’ here tryin’ to have a conversation wit’ you about your kids, and you not even concerned. Why you even over here? All you do is sit and talk on this damn phone.” She picked it up.
“You out yo’ fuckin’ mind.” Cain snatched it from her hand, pissed. “I done told you about touching my shit.”
Caught off guard by his reaction, Billie stood back. “Be easy, homeboy. Ain’t nobody even trippin’ off that damn phone. All I did was pick it up. You ain’t have to snatch it from me.”
“But that’s the point. Don’t pick it up. It’s not yours. Just leave it where it is, ’cause if you see something you don’t like, I don’t feel like hearing a bunch of whining and complaining about it.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Billie tried her best to remain cool.
“Cain, I don’t care about you and them raggedy-ass hoes you fuck wit’,” she lied. “Like I said, don’t snatch nothin’ from me.”
“And like I said, don’t touch my shit.”
“Well, how about I don’t like yo’ stupid ass being here, so why don’t you and yo’ phone go home.” She pointed toward the door, fed up.
“Whateva. I’m not gon’ argue wit’ you.” Cain got up.
“Bounce, niggah!”
Not even concerned with the way she felt or the fact that he’d hurt her feelings, Cain grabbed his keys and proceeded to the door.
“I can’t stand yo’ stupid ass!” Billie picked up a pint of milk and threw it at him.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Cain ducked to dodge the milk. “Are you insane?”
“You’re my problem!” She picked up a pack of lean ground beef.
“I ain’t playin’ wit’ you, Billie! Don’t throw shit else at me,” he barked.
“Fuck you!” She reared her hand back as far as she could and threw the package at his head. This time, she hit him. Billie watched in delight as Cain’s head bounced forward from the impact.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” he yelled, running down the steps.
“Let me be crazy then! You stupid muthafucka, I hate yo’ ass!”
“The feeling is mutual,” he shot, closing the door behind him.
“Stupid muthafucka,” Billie said underneath her breath as her chest heaved up and down.
“So, you and Daddy at it again?” Kenzie asked, standing by her mother’s side.
“Yeah, baby, but this time it’s different.”
The In Spot Dessert Bar and Lounge, located in the outskirts of the Delmar Loop, was a cozy hideaway for intimate gatherings and social networking. It was smoke-free and designed for patrons to chill with their friends or that special someone. Dylan and her girls often frequented the lounge to gossip, eat, and drink.