Sweeter Than Honey (6 page)

Onyx shook her head and mumbled, “I give up,” then walked away. Wasn’t the first time someone had given up on me.

Easing from the makeup chair, I glanced at my plump shiny golden lips. Lips that men craved, then raved about having on their dicks. Confidently I whispered, “I’m nobody’s whore anymore.”

“L
ick my pussy, B.”

“Gripping Benito’s ears, I shifted his mouth directly over my voluptuous pussy. “That’s it. Right there. No, baby, not my clit. Not yet, Daddy.” Slowly I swerved sideways, thrusting my precious pearl against his full sexy lips with each word. “Damn, your hard, hot tongue feels so fuckin’ good, Daddy, I can’t stop cumming.”

Vigorously Benito’s head shook side to side.

The leopard faux fur throw I’d sprawled on the living room floor puckered underneath my ass. Mimicking making a snow angel, I surrendered to the fluffy hairs, creating a cool breeze beneath my angel wings. Imagining flying high above clouds of joy, I envisioned heaven must feel like having a nonstop orgasm.

“You okay, baby?” B asked, interrupting my visual of doing to Sunny what he was doing to me.

“Uh-huh, I’m real good. You just keep licking. Stay focused. Stay focused.”

My eyes scrolled toward my brows. Glancing at the plain white walls, I saw that no pictures hung in the living room of my cozy house with two master bedrooms and two and a half baths in upscale Windsor Estates. If there was a God, he had to know I’d had more than my fair share of hardships. I bought this cul-de-sac home for what it offered on the inside: privacy, peace, and serenity with an exterior backdrop of the rustic mountains hugging the city limits of North Las Vegas.

Relishing the tingling sensation between my thighs, I whispered, “That feels sooo good, B. You’re the best, Daddy.”

Although I truly loved B, I didn’t trust myself to surrender and make love to him, so I simply enjoyed the moments we shared. For the first time in my life, I had sex whenever I wanted. For the first time in my life, sex was pleasurable. But many other facets of my life were not. Like pretending I was cool knowing my boss was plotting to have me killed.

Resuming swishing my arms in the softness, I wished I would’ve had the fortitude to torment the men that fucked me over. Why I tolerated so much abuse I had no idea. Getting real, I thought,
Yes, I do.
I accepted their abuse because I hadn’t learned how to love myself. I’m not sure if I know how to love myself now but I’m working on it. And I’ve changed my mind about firing Sunny tomorrow night. Tonight was Sunny’s last night, right after I finished my fantasy of being with her.

I was thankful those abusive days were gone for Sunny and me. All the things I’d done to please my ex-men I refused to do for Benito. No stripping, no role-playing, and definitely no massages. No cooking, cleaning the house, or washing clothes, like I’d done for the madam at Pussyland. To earn my full-time stay I became her part-time maid for eleven long arduous years. Now all of the chores in my home were Benito’s job and the least he could do since I was our primary source of income and he was at my house all damn day.

“Your pussy tastes sweeter than honey. Um, um, um, so good, woman, I could eat your pussy forever,” Benito mumbled, lapping his tongue between my lip and my shaft.

Hm, sweeter than honey. He was absolutely right.

My fingertips danced in B’s short wavy hair. Why couldn’t I love him completely? With B around all the time, I felt his love for me. I could stay with him forever, but never could I escape my past. All those years working at the ranch made me insensitive toward men.

I’d watched a john take his last breath while refusing to give him one of mine. I knew CPR and easily could’ve saved his life or at least tried. Instead I stared into his sunken blue eyes feeling no remorse. I’d secretly done the world a favor adding one less jerk to womankind. Deep inside, I knew I had a heart, but sometimes I wasn’t sure if it was beating. If there truly was a heaven, I’m headed straight to hell, but hell would have to wait until I redeemed myself, and God knows how long that’ll take.

I braced Benito’s forehead with my palm. “Aw, shit,” I hissed. “Slow down. You gon’ make me cum too fast, Daddy. Oh yeah, wiggle the tip of your tongue inside me. Now up and down my shaft. Come on, B, go slower, baby.”

There were so many more ways I could please Benito in bed, but the skills I possessed were supposedly reserved exclusively for sexperts and prostitutes with names like Tongue-a-luscious and Wonder Pussy.

Panting to catch my breath, I pinched my nipples, then watched those babies harden as I trembled with pleasure while B trickled warm drops of saliva on my clit.

“Tell me how you want it, Lace. I’m never satisfied until you’ve finished cuming,” Benito groaned, burying his face in my Brazilian-waxed pussy.

At first I was scared to have the hairs snatched off my pussy, but now pain for me was pleasurable. The silkiness of my fresh pussy was amazingly orgasmic for both of us. My pussy felt so exhilarating I wanted to show her to the world. I cherished my kitty cat more than I loved B.

Rubbing B’s face in my secretions, I relished his undying desire to please me in and out of the bedroom. B would do anything for me…including die. In return, I definitely had his back but not quite like that. I wasn’t dying for anyone, especially a man.

Cuming a little, I grunted, “Yeah, B. Shit yeah. Move your tongue up my pussy, um, down the other side, yes, yes, baby, please go slower.”

“Oh Lawd,” I gasped when Benito’s tongue made its way down the other side, then darted straight up the middle of my shaft, lightly fluttering on the tip of my clit, meshing his spit with my cum. “You are soooo wrong for that shit.” My spine flattened against the floor, shooting my hips upward and stuffing my pussy deeper into B’s mouth.

Benito hummed, “Mmmmm,” as he flicked his tongue.

“Oh, baby. Suck her softly. Please,” I begged, scratching the crown of Benito’s head.

Brushing away my hands, Benito squeezed my breasts, forcing me to release another orgasm. My body tingled all over. This orgasm lasted longer than the one before. B’s ultramoist succulent lips made my stomach rise. Arching my back, I enjoyed multiple orgasms. Embarking upon a major climatic explosion, I withheld releasing the big one, fearing I’d fall asleep afterward, but being late for work wasn’t an option.

I was a perfectionist and Valentino was sporadically a loose cannon. He was the type of man who would act first, then say “Fuck it” later. Lately he’d mentioned starting a family. What kind of woman would marry a pimp? Or how could Valentino be a role model for children, including his own? His mind was set on Sunny, but Sunny deserved better. Valentino would never choose a woman like me. A woman he couldn’t control. A woman smarter than him. Valentino wanted a nanny-trophy-beautiful wife to birth and rear his offspring, fuck him, feed him, never talk back, and not complicate his life.

Squeezing my upper vaginal muscles, I held back, careful not to allow the epileptic-like twitching inside my vaginal walls to travel to my G-spot. If I screwed up and did that shit I’d cum so hard my body would go into convulsions.

“Ease up just a little, B,” I desperately urged.

“I know what you want,” Benito said, yanking me closer. Grabbing his hard dick, he rubbed his head on my slushy pussy. Popping the head in two inches, B thrust upward into my G-spot.

Scooting backward, I screamed, “Ouch! What the fuck was that shit!” knocking B over as I leapt to my feet doing hopscotch in place.

Benito lay there looking up at me. Flip-flopping his hands back and forth, B inspected both sides. “What? My fingers? I was holding my dick.”

“I told your dumb ass not to put your raggedy-ass nails anywhere near my pussy until you got a manicure!”

Rising on his knees, B yelled, “Get out of my face with that, Lace! I just got my nails done this morning.” Holding his hands high in the air, Benito rambled on, “See? Look at them. I even got two coats of clear just the way you like. I’m not going down this road with you again! I barely touched you!”

“You’re just like Don, B! You’re a good-for-nothing-but-a-wet-dream son of a bitch! I ask you to do one simple thing…tell the truth…and you can’t even get that right! Dumb fuck.”

B’s dick hung south along with his chin. “How many times am I going to have to pay another man’s debt? Huh? You won’t tell me what he did to you, but I keep getting blamed. Serious, Lace, you need to see a psychiatrist.”

“You callin’ me crazy? Fuck you! You need to take your freeloading ass home! Oh yeah. That’s right. What home!” I yelled in his face, staring down on him.

Whenever I threatened to kick B out, he conceded. But he was right. Don’s jagged nails against my pussy left me emotionally scarred. Not a day went by when I didn’t blame myself or Benito for what Don had done to me. I refused to look at B’s nails, afraid that bad memories would resurface of how I obsessively filed my johns’ fingernails before I allowed them to touch me. If it weren’t for Don’s lying ass, I’d probably have a good job at a respectable firm making a decent living.

Decent. The most judgmental word in the dictionary was meaningless in a so-called free country. People condemning one another as if their opinions were gospel when in fact their opinions didn’t mean shit. Not to me anyway. Where in the hell were those dressed-in-all-white missionaries of the church when I was molested, then kicked out on the streets? Probably at Sunday morning service sitting a few pews ahead of another girl like me mumbling under their breath to one another about how indecent that little girl was.

I heard them shoo-shooing about me. “Uh-huh. I heard she fast. Doing all them nasty things with grown mens…Amen! Hallelujah! All right, Rev, tell the truth and shame the devil!…Sister, where was I? Oh yeah, she almost stole her mama’s husband. Somebody needs to tell her her kind ain’t welcome in the House of the Lord.”

What a difference a day makes?
That one night sleeping on the porch and sitting in church changed my entire life. Weren’t those missionaries supposed to help save me? A tear fell onto my cheek.

B wiped it away, then affectionately said, “I’m sorry, baby. I need to be more understanding,” then gently placed his hands beside his hips. “Let me finish what I started.”

Benito’s eyes bypassed my navel as he stared up at me.

Did I just see B narrow his eyes before nestling his cheek into my pussy? Was that a look of disgust for me or the situation at hand? I made a mental note of that shit. I could look in a man’s eyes and simultaneously know his intentions and his deepest desires. B was pissed at me but couldn’t do shit to his satisfaction because he had no place to go.

A cutting of the eyes to the corners with a pensive frozen stare meant he was plotting his next move against me. Droopy eyes that softened indicated he needed my affection but didn’t want to ask. He expected me to read his mind. And in that moment if I showed him affection, instantly he became submissive. That was the time when I could ask for the world, and he’d give me all he had to offer.

That window of opportunity for women lasted a split second. If she blinked, she missed it. And the look B just gave me signaled inner hatred suppressed behind his thoughts of bashing my face in for crushing his manhood. Most men didn’t hide their anger. Too many women were busy trying to rescue abusive men. Oblivious of the warning signs, women blindly walked wide-eyed into danger.

There was so much I’d learned from observing a man’s body language, listening to his speech patterns, and reading between his words that I could teach a class on how to recognize an abusive man before he strikes from the inside out.

Benito leaned closer, holding me firm, then gentle as a lamb as if he were asking for forgiveness of his thoughts. As I stepped back, my foot slid against a familiar piece of plastic that I must’ve forgotten to remove from the throw after peeling away the price tag.

There was no time for an apology. The money-millionaires were in town tonight and they were dropping C-notes like confetti, so I couldn’t dare be late for work.

Glancing at the digital clock on the coffee table, I saw I had a good thirty minutes to spare. I moaned when Benito’s lips kissed my clit, trying not to let my personal issues cloud my true feelings. The more I came uncontrollably, the more I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this man. I was completely aware of my emotional attachment to Benito and his insatiable appetite for me.

Benito was different. I was his fan long before Valentino introduced us. Watching Benito on TV in his tight football uniform, connecting his precision bombs to his running backs and wide receivers, and seeing him sport his championship ring on television made me fantasize about him many nights while he didn’t know I existed.

B’s stats during his ten years in the league were 197 touchdowns passing, 36 rushing, 26,259 yards passing, 3,700 rushing. I knew how many first, second, third, and fourth downs he’d gotten. I could give a play-by-play recount better than any commentator of all Benito’s games. Now that he was mine, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep him, but I was positive I was not going to a therapist.

At the end of the day, after working long hours through the night, I was grateful to have someone waiting at home for me. Benito was my star. In many ways my savior. Before Benito, no man had ever consistently cared about me. They weren’t around long enough to. After our first month together I thought B would change. A year later, he still did all the things he’d done when we first met and more, including tolerate my relentless, selfish, won’t-admit-when-I’m-wrong attitude. B did simple things like massage my feet, suck my toes, and run my bathwater every time I arrived home from work at five, sometimes six in the morning.

At first I resisted dating Benito because while professionally playing football, he was one of Valentino’s top clients and I was the top-paid whore at Pussyland. The day Benito hung up his jersey, coincidentally I’d literally serviced my last john.

Valentino sat in my room at the Pussyland Ranch negotiating his fee like all the other tricks. Valentino was well known for stealing girls and hiring them to work for him. That evening we sat on my bed doing the usual back-and-forth.

“So, what would you like, handsome?” I’d asked him.

“What’s your specialty?” he asked, tugging the straps on my lace bustier.