One Taste (10 page)

O
rdered by Onika to sex Puddin with his tongue, Matt had never felt so victimized or helpless in his life. Puddin had to be the most disgusting person he’d ever come into such intimate contact with. While straddling him, not only did the slovenly young woman dribble mayonnaise on Matt’s head and face, but she practically smothered him with the heft of her body. Disgust coursed through him, yet oddly, Matt felt his sluggish penis spring to life. Lapping Puddin’s juices, Matt closed his hand tightly around the base of his rigid shaft to prevent himself from ejaculating too quickly.

“Oops!” Puddin exclaimed as a sudden burst of air was loudly expelled from her vagina into Matt’s open mouth. “My bad,” she apologized, but continued gyrating on his face. “Ain’t nothing but a pussy pop,” she casually explained. “You was workin’ that tongue so good, you had my pussy bubbling up and popping and carrying on.”

Repelled, Matt bolted up, toppling Puddin off of him. Momentarily stunned, she lay flat on her back, arms splayed out on top of the air mattress. Matt couldn’t help but notice her heavy breasts and hard pink nipples that jutted outward. Inexplicably, revulsion turned to sexual desire.

There was no mistaking the lust in Matt’s eyes. Puddin’s eyes shot down to his rising penis. Excited by Matt’s arousal, Puddin drew up her knees and slowly parted her fleshy thighs, flashing a pair of fat, pink pussy lips. “You wanna sex a big girl, Mr. Wheeler?”

Matt consented with a grunt. Puddin pulled him on top of her and guided his small shaft into her soggy entrance. Incredibly, Matt stroked Puddin for ten minutes before his dick went soft.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered urgently.

Without hesitation, Puddin straddled him.

“Can you do that thing again?” His perverted request embarrassed him, but he was desperate for assistance.

“You want me to shoot off some more pussy farts?” Puddin asked, surprised.

In his normal mindset, Matt would not be aroused by a gross bodily function, but Matt was not working with a rational mind when he opened his mouth wide, nodding his head in consent.

Puddin lifted up slightly, arched her back, and sucked air into her vaginal canal.

Amazingly, Matt was able to maintain an erection with Puddin. Though she possessed neither Onika’s bossy nature nor her predisposition to violence, there was something about her that made him rigid with desire. He supposed it was her big bosom and her crude behavior that kept his dick hard, motivating him to fuck her five times in a row.

But that was hours ago and the pride he’d felt at his ability to perform like a young stud had dissipated. At present, Matt was worried sick about his van and pissed at himself, Onika, and Puddin.

Puddin, oblivious to Matt’s anger and stress, was sprawled out on the air mattress, sound asleep and snoring loudly. The smell of sex permeated the bedroom.

Though Matt felt that he’d done an admirable job of fucking Puddin’s brains out, he honestly couldn’t take credit for her being stretched out and dead to the world. She was in an Oxy stupor, which was fine with Matt. He would not have enjoyed being forced to make polite after-sex chit-chat after participating in such vulgarities with someone he found beneath contempt.

Matt paced frantically back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. Every ten minutes or so, overwrought with anxiety, he’d slump down into the paint-splattered metal chair. Each time he heard the sound of tires rolling into the parking lot, he’d spring from the chair, and rush to the window, and peek through the blinds. Disappointment would escalate to rage, and as he again dialed Onika’s cell phone number, he would push the buttons with such force, he was surprised his phone didn’t shatter.

Matt had already left a series of angry, urgent messages, but after another half hour had passed without hearing from her, Matt became so incensed he flipped open his phone again, this time intending to leave Onika a profanity-laced message. At that moment, his phone rang. His heart lifted in relief. But seeing his home number on the screen, he quickly turned off the phone and snapped it shut. He couldn’t deal with his wife. Not right now. He’d return her call when he’d retrieved his van and was headed toward Philly.

How had he allowed Onika to get him into such a tight spot? What had he been thinking when he turned over the keys to his van to the reckless young girl? Filled with self disgust, Matt had to admit that he’d been thinking with the wrong head.

His crew was stranded at the job and if he didn’t remedy the
disastrous situation quickly, he could lose the contract he had with the Recovery House. Hell, he could lose his business if something happened to one of the men while left unsupervised. Imagining the worst-case scenario, Matt envisioned himself being hit with a lawsuit and losing everything he owned trying to pay off legal fees. Feeling a bad headache coming on, he removed his Eagles cap and anxiously rubbed his forehead.

Suddenly, Matt heard the jangle of keys. With great relief, he jumped up and hurried to the living room.

“Mr. Wheeler!” Onika shouted as she burst through the door. “You ain’t gon’ believe this shit.”

Matt gawked at her. Terror gripped his heart.

“Your van got jacked!”

Matt’s stomach dropped. His frantic eyes searched Onika’s face for a sign that she was playing a prank.

“Some doped-up young buck held a gun right up to the window. When he told me to give up the whip, I did what he said. I wasn’t tryin’ to argue with a nut aiming a gun in my face. Feel me?” she added, dashing Matt’s hopes that she was joking.

Looking grim, Matt flipped open his cell. “I have to call the police.”

“Wait a minute, Mr. Wheeler. We gotta get our story together before you drag the cops into this mess.”

“Are you crazy! I’m not fabricating a story. I have to get my van back. Tonight!”

“It ain’t like the cops are gon’ rush out and search for your van. They just gon’ make you file a report.”

“Then I’ll file a report!” Matt retorted.

“Yeah, but you’ll make out better if we go out and search for it. I think I know where it is.”

“You do?” Matt exclaimed, marveling at the absurdity of the situation.

“Uh-huh. The young buck who jacked it probably sold it to this drug dealer named Naz. I know where Naz sets up shop. Grab your coat, Mr. Wheeler; I got a cab waiting for us in the parking lot.”

This was a matter for the police. But, too desperate to listen to the warning alarms that went off in his head, and against his better judgment, Matt followed Onika out the door.

Onika sat up front with the driver while Matt situated himself in the rear.

“Take us to Third and Ward,” she told the driver. The driver twisted around and took a look at Matt and then turned to Onika. “You owe me seven dollars. I’m not moving this cab until you pay.”

Onika sucked her teeth. “Ain’t nobody trying to rob you.” She looked over her shoulder at Matt. “Give this nut the cab fare, Mr. Wheeler.”

“I’m not a nut,” the cab driver said, sharpening his tone. “You’re very disrespectful. And why do you insist on sitting up front when I already told you it’s against regulations?”

Onika flipped her hand at the driver and turned to Matt. “You got the money?”

The situation was progressing from bad to worse. Helplessly, Matt groped in his pants pocket and extracted a ten.

“Lemme hold your phone for a second, Mr. Wheeler. I need to call one of my peoples to see if anybody knows anything about your van.”

Too distraught to even wonder why she didn’t make the call with her own phone, Matt listlessly handed Onika his phone. As
luck would have it, Matt’s phone rang the minute it touched Onika’s hand. And Onika answered it as if the phone were her very own.

“Some lady—your wife, I guess—wants to speak to you,” Onika nonchalantly told Matt. “Here you go, boo,” she said, handing the phone to Matt.

Waving both hands and shaking his head in terror, Matt refused to speak with his wife.

Onika repositioned the phone next to her ear. “Yo, we ’bout to get into something right now. He said he’ll call you back,” Onika told Regina and then disconnected the call.

“Why’d you have to open your mouth? Why didn’t you just hang up?” Matt yelled at Onika.

“Oh, now you wanna put that bitch in front of me! Fuck it, then. After we get your van back, you ain’t gotta worry about me no more.”

Slouched in the backseat and deeply troubled, Matt tried to process the distressful situation. Before hooking up with Onika, he’d never cheated on his wife. He’d place his hand on a stack of Bibles and testify that his involvement with the rough, young girl was totally out of character; he’d been temporary insane.

And it wasn’t his fault. Regina had been hounding him, telling him he needed to see a doctor, urging him to get medical help for his sexual dysfunction. It was a low blow to be told by your wife that you couldn’t satisfy her needs.

Before Regina started complaining, he hadn’t paid Onika any attention. He was feeling less than a man when Onika first came on to him. When he couldn’t perform, she coerced him into giving her oral sex and that one taste turned out to be the magical elixir that solved his problem. In his heart, he hadn’t been trying to hurt Regina, he was simply trying to prove to himself
that he was a real man. After tonight, he fully intended to leave Onika alone. He’d kick her out of the apartment and then try to figure out a way to break the lease without too much damage to his pockets.

Regina!
It pained him to think of her going through the phone book, searching for a divorce attorney. Matt shot daggers at the back of Onika’s head. Why’d she have to answer his phone? Onika had caused some major damage in his marriage and it would take a miracle to keep Regina from filing for divorce.

The cab stopped in front of a house on Ward Street, and Matt could hardly believe his eyes. Parked at the curb was his van! “There it is!” Matt shouted.

“Fall back, Mr. Wheeler. You better let me handle this. You don’t know nothin’ about the streets. I might have to bargain with Naz. How much cash can you come up with? Naz ain’t gon’ give you your van back for free.”

“You sound like a lunatic. I’m not intimidated by some street thug!” Matt jumped out of the cab and rushed toward the driver’s side of his van.

“Yo, dude. What’s your problem?” Nazier snapped in surprise when Matt suddenly yanked the door open.

“This is my van, get the hell out!” Matt demanded, too indignant to fear the hardened younger man who was sitting in the driver’s seat of his van.

“Aiight, money. But you ain’t gotta come at me like that. You lucky I ain’t pull out my burner.”

“Get out of my van!” Seething, Matt spoke through clenched teeth.

“Aiight, aiight.” Lazily, Nazier leaned over and reached for the handle to the glove compartment.

Matt grabbed Nazier’s shirttail and yanked hard, forcing the
young man’s fingers to slip off the handle. “Who do you think you are, rifling through my glove compartment? Get out!” Matt was amazed at the audacity of the young punk.

Nazier twisted around. “Get the fuck off me,” he yelled as he fired a series of punches to Matt’s face and head.

Stunned as he was by the unexpected, powerful blows, it took Matt a moment to comprehend what was happening. Then he fought back, swinging wildly, but doing no damage to the young hoodlum. Frustrated, Matt used all the strength he could muster and yanked Nazier out of the van. With Matt still holding on to Nazier’s shirt, the two scuffled until Matt mustered the strength to shove the drug dealer to the ground.

With his opponent momentarily down, Matt swiftly jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and locked it. As Matt revved the engine, Nazier scrambled to his feet, pointing fiercely and shouting epithets. Matt shot out of the parking spot and floored the accelerator.

To hell with Onika and everyone associated with her. Speeding through the streets of Chester, Matt vowed to cancel the furniture delivery, evict Onika from the apartment, and never stray from home again. Somehow, he’d patch things up with him and Regina. Resuming a normal life with his wife would be heaven after the harrowing hell he’d experienced with Onika.

Still speeding as he practiced the speech he’d give Regina, he was suddenly blinded by an array of flashing lights that filled his rearview mirror. The police.
Damn, damn, damn!
Matt pulled over, his brain in overdrive as he tried to figure out how to talk his way out of a speeding ticket.

The police officer approached the van. Matt slid down the window. “Is there a problem?” he asked, grinning sheepishly.

“License, registration, and insurance identification,” the officer said dryly.

“Sure thing,” Matt said cheerily. He pulled open the glove compartment. His eyes widened in sheer disbelief. A gun lay next to a quart-sized, sealed plastic bag filled with what appeared to be a couple dozen small packs of crack. His heart dropped to his stomach. Time seemed suspended.

“Hands up!” the cop bellowed. With his hands up and trembling, Matt turned toward the officer.

“It’s not mine! I swear—” His mouth clamped shut as he gazed inside the barrel of the officer’s gun. One false move, a jerky, nervous reaction, and Matt knew he could instantly become a statistic, the victim of a trigger-happy cop, shot in self-defense for reaching for a loaded weapon. So Matt sat perfectly still, kept his hands where they could be seen, and waited for permission to speak. He was certain that after he told the cop about the harrowing evening he’d had, how he was forced to hunt down his stolen van, and had to resort to fist-fighting with a young thug to get the van back, after he explained to the cop that he was a law-abiding citizen with a business to run, there was no way he’d be detained on the side of the road for very long.

W
aiting at the bus stop, Cochise checked the time. One o’clock in the morning. Damn! A few motorists whizzed by. A box-shaped truck made its late-night run, but there wasn’t a bus in sight. The temperature had dropped since he’d left the job site; he stuck his cold hands in his jacket pockets to warm them and stepped out to the curb, again.

A half hour later, the bus still hadn’t arrived. Being that he was the only person standing at the bus stop, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d missed the last bus. He didn’t have a bus schedule and didn’t know much about the public transportation system in Philly, but there was a grim possibility that he was standing around waiting in vain.
Shit!

Cochise figured Mr. Wheeler had gotten home by now. His cheatin’ ass was probably snuggled up next to his unsuspecting, sexy wife right now. Craning his neck, he looked for the bright headlights of the bus one last time. Still no luck.
Fuck this!
Feeling righteously indignant and getting angrier by the minute, Cochise turned around and headed back to Mr. Wheeler’s house. The boss was going to have to drag his ass out of bed and take Cochise the fuck back to Chester.

When Mrs. Wheeler opened the door, Cochise was stunned by the drastic change in her appearance. Her face looked swollen, her eyes were bloodshot. Holding a handful of tissues, she dabbed at falling tears.

Cochise gawked at the boss’s wife, bewildered. “What’s wrong?” He stepped inside, his brow knitted in concern as he gently closed the door.

“I called Matt’s cell after you left,” she said between sobs.

“Is he all right?”

“I guess,” Regina said quietly. “A woman answered his phone. An obnoxious young woman who referred to
my
husband as boo. She didn’t come right out and say it, but she hinted that she and Matt were having sex.” Regina gasped in anguish and visibly shuddered at the memory. “That woman who answered Matt’s phone was so crude and disrespectful, I just can’t imagine Matt getting involved with someone like that.” Regina shook her head emphatically. “How could I have been so blind, thinking Matt was putting in extra hours at work while he was involved in a lurid affair?”

Cochise shook his head sympathetically. The boss and Onika had been kicking it for quite a while. It was only a matter of time before Mr. Wheeler got busted. Only God knew what had provoked the man to put his marriage on the line for someone as hardcore, gangly, and unattractive as Onika. Imagining the harsh words that Onika had hurled at Mrs. Wheeler, Cochise’s expression grew somber. It was a shame for such a nice lady to be disrespected that way.

“Somebody could have been playing around with his phone. You never know,” Cochise suggested, attempting to lessen Mrs.
Wheeler’s pain. “Did your husband call you back…you know, to explain what happened?”

“No. He turned his phone off,” Regina said bitterly. A scowl formed on her face. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly as she struggled to blink back a fresh batch of tears. Then, giving in to wracking sobs, she fell against Cochise.

Reflexively, Cochise opened his arms, held her. He patted Regina’s back and rubbed in circular motions as she sobbed against his broad chest. He didn’t know what to say, but felt he should say something encouraging. “It’s all right. Don’t cry,” he muttered awkwardly. Regina cried harder. Cochise tightened his arms around her. He rocked her and found himself offering murmurs of consolation, soothing utterances that weren’t quite words. When her crying subsided, she mopped her tears with the back of her hand. But sensing there were more tears yet to fall, Cochise led Regina to the sofa and gently lowered her. In a seated position, he comforted his boss’s pretty wife, enveloping her in his massive arms. With her face buried in his shirt, Regina sobbed. Cochise stroked her dark hair, a helmet of curls that had fallen free from the hair clip. He sensed her loneliness, the layers of once-deep sorrow now so close to the surface he could feel her pain as keenly as he felt his own.

When her sniffling subsided, Regina grew quiet and still. Then she raised her head and Cochise saw the hurt in her eyes; he saw the reflection of his own pained expression and in an instant felt an even deeper connection with Regina Wheeler.

And there was something else. Was she attracted to him? By the time Cochise recognized the raw desire that shone in Regina’s eyes, she had slipped out of her robe. A silk gown clung to her body. Wordlessly, she gazed at him, then cupped his face and pressed her mouth against his.

Taken off guard by the sweetness of her lips, by the rush of heat that engorged his loins, Cochise had difficulty processing what was taking place. Seconds later, the initial shock subsided and his lips relaxed against hers. The purpose of his visit—to get a ride back to Chester—seemed totally unimportant as his tongue slowly penetrated Regina’s lips and caressed her tongue until she shivered in his arms.

Becoming lost inside the kiss, he forced himself to pull away.
This is crazy
, Cochise thought as he searched her face for a sign that they’d gone too far. Her eyes told him she wanted more.

Regina Wheeler had never seduced anyone in her life; had never initiated a sexual liaison. Perhaps she wouldn’t have behaved so boldly had she not noticed the way Cochise’s eyes had swept over her body earlier that evening. She’d felt both self-conscious and flattered that the much younger man had taken notice and found her appealing.

Cochise was a hottie. His striking good looks had both startled and enticed her, but she would have never imagined that an hour or so later she’d be shamelessly seducing him, kissing him with a fiery passion.

Cochise was a stunning, muscular, towering figure with erotic long, dark hair. He was an irresistible magnet for Regina’s pent-up sexual desire. Giving in to demanding carnal urges, Regina tugged at the sleeve of Cochise’s jacket, coaxing him to come out of it. A fire raged between her legs and she yearned for the beautiful stranger to extinguish the flames.

His strong hands wandered over the satin-covered contours of
her body, her breasts, her stomach, and full hips and thighs. He stroked her thighs, his hand gliding upward.

Ripe with need, Regina opened her legs.

“Mrs. Wheeler. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret…”

“I want you,” she whispered helplessly.

Demonstrating that he wanted her, too, Cochise drew Regina into a tight embrace.

Needing to feel his lips on her flesh, she pulled the thin straps of her gown off her shoulders, freeing her breasts. Alternately, Cochise kissed each perfectly formed breast, capturing the nipples between his teeth and flicking his tongue against the aroused buds, and then moved to her neck, nibbling at her flesh, making her moan, causing her to tangle her fingers in his mass of long hair.

Regina slid her hands beneath his shirt, exploring what felt like miles of concrete muscles. “Take off your clothes,” she said in a breathy voice she barely recognized as her own.

Cochise raised his shirt over his head, revealing the hard muscles that rippled beneath his hot flesh. Unable to resist touching him, Regina cupped a hand over a concrete bicep and then moved upward to his strong shoulders. Tenderly, she moved her hand across the solid wall of steel that was his chest. Seeing and touching the expanse of his large manly form aroused her and nearly took her breath away.

Cochise reached for her; he placed a trail of kisses from her neck down to her stomach. Regina moaned in helpless surrender. But Cochise did not move toward her pleasure center. Urgently, Regina sought Cochise’s hand and guided it to the furnace that raged between her legs. An agonized gasp escaped her lips the moment his fingers brushed against her most sensitive place.

Skillful fingers separated her dewy petals. Regina cried out in
ecstasy. Involuntarily her hips rose, her legs parted eagerly. Cochise inserted his longest finger into her flaming hot spot. He worked his finger, moving it in and out slowly, giving Regina pleasure so intense, she cried out his name.

Taking in short, heated breaths, Regina rocked her hips in a desperate rhythm.

“You want me, baby?” Cochise asked in a husky voice as he probed deeply inside her smoldering secret place.

“Yes. I want to feel—” Her words were cut off by body shivers and ragged gasps as Cochise’s long finger undulated inside, stroking her walls, giving her waves of pleasure that threatened to take her over the edge. “I want to feel you inside me. Take these off,” she pleaded, pulling at the belt that encircled Cochise’s tapered waist.

Instead of taking off his pants, Cochise embraced Regina and whispered in her ear. “I dig you, you know?”

She nodded.

“I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to disrespect your home.”

“Matt already disrespected our home,” Regina responded, defending the daring act of passion that was taking place. A part of her wanted to hurt her husband as he’d hurt her. But another, deeper part of her spirit didn’t care about exacting revenge. Admittedly, Regina felt a burning desire to be sexually fulfilled. But there was also a great need to be in a relationship where she was valued. Cherished. Loved. For some idiotic reason, she believed with all her heart that it was possible to have all of that with Cochise. But how could she explain that to this man she barely knew? A man who didn’t even refer to her by her first name?

“The way I see it,” Cochise continued, eyeing her intently,
“you’re mad at your husband and you want to get even with him for what he did to you. But I’m really feelin’ you, Mrs. Wheeler. My emotions are on the line,” Cochise admitted, touching his chest sincerely.

“Regina. Call me Regina.” She took a breath, prepared to confess that she was completely captivated, but the blaring ring of the phone put her words on pause. She turned sharply toward the sound. “It’s Matt, I know it,” she said quietly. With a sigh, she rose and crossed the room.