Show and Tell Page 12

  I know Alizé is hurting about Cameron and this new drama with Dom and her suddenly reappearing daddy is big time, but I am grateful they both are here for me. I wish Cristal hadn’t went away for the weekend. A piece of me still can’t believe she went knowing what I would be going through today. Whenever the four of us are together it feels like we are invincible. Besides fighting back from depression after the abortion, this is the hardest thing I ever had to do and right now I need my friends.

  Kimani presses a kiss to Tiffany’s hand as Dom grabs the baby bag and Alizé rubs my back while I rise from the bed. It feels like a funeral march as we walk out the bedroom and through the living room together. Even as we ride the elevator downstairs I just silently pray that the Lord watches over my daughter and grants Bones the maturity to be the best father he can be to his child while he has her this weekend.

  The elevator doors open.

  “ ’Bout damn time.”

  I look up to find Bones and his entire ten-man entourage scattered about the lobby of our apartment building. I feel the girls shift closer to me as Bones stands and turns to look at me with all the hatred he has for me filled in his eyes.

  He still looks like the same man I fell in love with all those months ago. Tall, fine, and hood rich with enough diamonds glistening from his jewelry to give him a glow of light around his tall frame. His lawyer rises as well and whispers something to Bones and he nods as he looks at me.

  “It’s time, Miss James,” the short white attorney says as he slips his hands into the pockets of his chinos.

  I walk up until I am standing in front of Bones. He takes Tiffany from my arms as Dom steps up to hand me the baby bag I packed. Several of his entourage whistle at her but Dom just shoots them a mad stare.

  “She likes to be rocked to sleep and she loves a bottle of cool baby water—”

  “I don’t need your lying ass to tell me shit about my daughter,” he snaps. Several of his crew snicker.

  “There’s no need to act an ass, Lavitius,” I stress to him as I carefully watch the way he holds our daughter.

  “And there was no need for your no-good ass to lie about me raping you either.”

  “And I was wrong for that but you were wrong when you said I lied about her being yours and you were wrong when you said I wanted to gank you for your money. I haven’t asked you for one red cent since she was born.”

  He sucked his teeth. “Man, I ain’t got no convo for your ass.”

  See, to me I am trying to do what’s right for Tiffany. I hand him the diaper bag filled with her things.

  He looked at it like it was a dead cat or a pile of shit or something. “You can keep all that cheap shit ’cause I bought my baby girl Brittany everything she need and more,” he boasts as his crew starts to walk out of the lobby.

  I wrap my arms around myself. “Her name is Tiffany,” I say sadly.

  He turns and looks back at me. “What?” he asks with attitude.

  I shake my head because it’s a damn shame. “Your daughter’s name is Tiffany not Brittany.”

  His lawyer clears his throat and looks away while Dom and Alizé step up to stand beside me. Bones gives me a long look before he turns and walks out the building with our daughter.

  I just hang my head and turn to get back on the elevator. I pray hard and fast because at that moment I feel what little faith I have leave me and I am trying not to go there again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cristal

  The Ingrams’ cabin in the Poconos is gorgeous. It is definitely a completely new level of rustic, with floor to ceiling windows everywhere, fireplaces in every one of the four bedrooms, top-of-the-line furnishings, expensive art work, and a full staff. From every window of the two-level house there is a spectacular view of the towering pine trees. Who knew the woods could be so beautiful?

  I know Mo and the other girls wanted me there when Bones came to pick up Tiffany but how in the world could I turn down a weekend surrounded by all of this. Besides I called and Mo was a little weepy but holding up the best she could under the circumstances. So now it’s time for a little R & R.

  The guest bedroom is done in all white and it looks good as hell against the wooden surroundings. Although it’s early May the stone fireplace is lit and the sound of the crackling fire is peaceful. It is all romantic as hell. Just the spot for lovers.

  I sit up in bed in nothing but my bikinis and look down at Mohammed’s naked body sprawled out next to me. His dreads are sprawled out against the down pillow and his chocolate body is sexier than ever against the white Egyptian cotton of the sheets. He is one of the sexiest men I ever laid eyes on. The sexiest and the most broke.

  When I told him I was going out of town he first tried to talk me into not going and then he invited himself like he wanted to prove I was not going to be laid up with another man. He actually gave me an ultimatum. Either he went or I stayed.

  So here we are the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Ingram.

  I can see it in their eyes that they are only being polite because he is here with me. They see and judge everything about him: his clothes, his dreads, his accent, his job, his status. I can see that none of it is up to par to them and that embarrasses me.

  And his judgment of them is just as harsh. Rich snobs. Uptight assholes. Plastic surgery whores (and he is dead on because both Mr. and Mrs. Ingram have gone under the knife).

  I am working on that legacy Carolyn’s been talking to me about. And what better legacy than my own business. Somewhere upscale. Somewhere trendy. Somewhere all the right people want to be.

  Questions is: What?

  Who better to ask than Carolyn? My friend, my mentor, my confidante. And hopefully my investor in whatever I plan to do.

  I am not going to let Mohammed and his foul mood ruin this for me. He better shape up or ship the hell out.

  Okay, last night we did make love on the fur rug in front of the fireplace and in the Jacuzzi tub in our private bath and out on the balcony but he invited himself along on this trip and he was not going to ruin my good time.

  He turns in his sleep and reaches for me but I just roll my eyes as I climb out of bed and grab my thick cotton robe to slip on. I give Mohammed one last look over my shoulder before I leave the bedroom. The entire chalet is quiet and still a bit dark because the sun is just beginning to rise. Hopefully, everyone is asleep. I just want to slip down to the kitchen, grab something to drink, and head back to bed.

  I jog down the stairs and walk into the kitchen that is almost as big as my apartment. I open the SubZero and pull out a bottle of water.

  Boom-boom-boom.

  I freeze at the rapid sound of something knocking or being knocked. I cock my head to the side.

  Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom.

  I turn my head towards the solid wooden door leading to the pantry. What in the hell? Is someone trapped in there and trying to get my attention for help? Who knows. These rich people are crazy as hell.

  I sit the bottle of water on the huge tiled island in the center of the kitchen and walk over to the pantry on my tiptoes. The sound of muffled noises makes me stop right where I am.

  Boom-boom-boom.

  Okay that hood side of me is like “get the hell out of there and mind your neck,” but I keep on walking to the pantry and jerk the door open. My eyes damn near pop out my head and my mouth falls open at what I see.

  Carolyn and her cook, Gerard, are both looking up at me in shock as they jump apart from each other on the floor. I quickly take in her naked body, his big and long dick that is still wet from her juices, and the heavy scent of sex. Okay, this is way more than I need to know. “Excuse me,” I mumble before I step back from the small pantry.

  “No, don’t go,” Carolyn whispers out to me.

  One of my newly threaded eyebrows jumps up. “Excuse me?”

  “Come in and close the door,” she says from her spot on the floor.

  I step back into the pantry with my eyes squeezed shut an
d pull the door close behind me. “Listen, Carolyn, you’re busy—”

  “Shut the door. I need you to stay in here in case my husband drags his ass down here. You and Gerard can come out together if he does, while I stay in here.”

  My eyes pop back open and flashes of Gerard climbing back between Carolyn’s legs which are spread wide until each of her Chanel bed slippers are touching shelves filled with canned goods and snacks. I shift my eyes because I really do not need to know what her pussy looks like. Okay? Alright.

  “Carolyn, I don’t know about this—”

  The sounds of his flesh hitting hers stops me and I cringe as the sounds of pussy juices echoes amongst their grunts. What . . . the . . . hell?

  “Yes, Gerard, get this pussy,” she moans.

  “I’m a take this dick from you,” he answers.

  “No, please, no.”

  He laughs all low in his throat.

  “Put it back in, Gerard. Pleeaassee.”

  I try to press my body and my face into the door.

  For the next five minutes I am in some weird sort of porno hell as Gerard fucks Carolyn’s old ass like she stole something. I mean that man went to work on her. I can hear even if I refuse to look. Somewhere along the line my nipples harden and my clit jumps to life.

  “I’m cuuuuuummmmmiiiiiiinnnnnggg,” she moans.

  Hump. I bet you are.

  The sound of things rattling on the shelf and falling makes me turn around. There are food items on his back and some on the floor beside them, but Gerard is still power driving that dick in her. I let myself enjoy the sight of his strong chocolate butt flexing and tensing as he slides that dark dick in and out of her as his balls swing like bells.

  I turn back to the door as they finally wrap their little sexcapade up. Gerard is making noises like a man possessed and the sounds of his pumps gets faster. Thank God his ass is cumming. The sounds of their moans and kisses are replaced by heavy panting. The scent of their sex is strong.

  “I’ll see you tonight, lover,” Carolyn tells him.

  “If not sooner?” he asks.

  She just laughs.

  Carolyn steps up next to me and I am so grateful she is back in her silk robe. “You go first,” she tells me with a small push to my back.

  I am busy thinking that I hope she does not have some of Gerard’s nut on her hand with her touching me. Okay? Alright.

  Thankfully the kitchen is still empty and quiet. I throw them couple of pantry freaks a quick thumbs up and dash out of there. I make it up the stairs and back to our room in record time. Mohammed is still sleeping but I slip out of my robe and my bikini. I flip the covers back and bend down to ease his boxers down his narrow hips as my clit steady throbs like a heartbeat between my legs.

  He stirs in his sleep just as I lift his dick with my hand and take the tip into my mouth. “Morning, Danielle,” he says, his voice still heavy with sleep even though his dick gets so hard against my tongue.

  Truth? I am feeling horny as hell. I am going to enjoy this sexy bedroom and my sexy man. Why should Carolyn be the only one to have fun?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alizé

  This is the last thing I need right now.

  I feel like every eye is locked on me as I walk towards Cameron’s office like my ass is going to war. I wish the paper balled up in my fist was his damn neck.

  “Good morning, Monica,” Delaney says as I breeze right on past her desk. “You can’t go in. He’s on a phone—”

  I turn the knobs to the massive double doors leading to his office and they swing open like I have super powers. Humph. Just call me Angry Woman because I am pissed off.

  Cameron looks up at me and his face becomes surprised. “Let me call you right back,” he says to whatever insignificant person he’s on the phone with.

  “How could you, Cameron?” I ask him accusingly as I toss the crumpled paper at his face.

  He swats it away and rises quickly to walk around the desk and towards the open doors to close them. I watch his every movement as I turn. He storms right up to me until we are standing face to face. “How could you tell my wife that you plan to fuck me and then send me home for her to suck your juices off my dick?” he asks in a crude voice.

  I tilt my chin up as I meet his eyes. “Why did you tell the bitch—”

  “Monica,” he interrupts sternly.

  I give him a “say what” look. “Why did you tell that bitch that I tried to stop the wedding?”

  Cameron threw his hands up in the air. “First off, I didn’t tell my wife that another woman came to me before our wedding to stop it but if I did why would you care. Hell, it’s the fucking truth!”

  If he said “my wife” one more damn time, I’m gone to really flip the fuck out. “You transferring me out of the department is fucking with my career. I had every intention of leaving you and your wife alone, she came into my office.”

  “You are messing up your own career, Monica, by sexually soliciting your supervisor, arguing with your supervisor’s wife, and basically acting unprofessional.” Cameron walks past me and back around his desk to reclaim his seat. “You’re lucky you are just getting transferred and not fired from this internship.”

  I begin to bite down on my bottom lip as my chest heaves with emotion. I hate to admit it but he’s right. This scheme to win him back is not a part of my master plan. And frankly, I’m tired of Cameron making it clear as hell that he loves his wife and not me. Monica “Alizé” Winters doesn’t chase any damn man. Fuck the dumb shit.

  He’s staring at me with this look that is way too caring but I don’t even let it get to me. Enough is enough. Serena Lemons-Steele can have her husband.

  Without another word or look in his direction, I turn and walk away.

  “Monica,” he calls out.

  I don’t even stop or turn or nothing. Fuck him.

  As soon as I park the car outside of Dr. Locke’s brownstone, I lift my hips to take off my panties. The summer breeze feels good against my thighs as I climb out of the car in a silk print wrap dress. Nipples hard. Stomach flat. Just the right amount of leg peeking through the split. Luckily for me, the winds didn’t send my skirts up and expose my ass to any Tom, Dick, or Harry walking or driving by.

  I climb the stairs of the brick duplex. I’m just reaching the top step when the front door opens and Dr. Locke walks out onto the front stoop. I smile and lick my lips as I start to pull the flap of my dress up my thigh. “Hungry—”

  “Hello, Miss Winters. Did we have an appointment that I forgot?” he asks in that professional voice that is nothing like the way he sounds when he is begging me to spank him before I fuck the hell out of him.

  My eyes shift past him to a round as hell, short woman with grayish short hair walking out behind him. The sight of her makes me ease that dress right back down. Plus, the crazy look on his face and his lie gives a sistah like me the distinct feeling that I am face to face with Mrs. Locke. “Yes, my parents and I thought our meeting was today. They’re on the way actually,” I lie as I cross my arms over my hard as hell nipples pressing through the thin material of my dress. I threw in the parents just in case she’s wondering what the hell a sexy bitch like me is doing showing up to her husband’s office unexpectedly.

  “Actually, my wife and I were just headed out and I don’t have any appointments for the rest of the day.”

  She gives me this smile that reminds me of my grammie and I feel a tiny twinge of guilt because I am fucking the hell out of her husband like I’m on a damn mission.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Locke,” I say, keeping one arm folded over my chest as I reach with the other to offer her my hand.

  She takes it. It’s soft like the type of hand you want to comfort you when you’re crying or hurt or lonely. It’s that special touch only a grandmother has. “Nice to meet you too,” she says softly. “Hunt, I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  And like that she walks down the steps leaving us alone mo
mentarily. She trusts her husband.

  “I have to go but you look amazing,” he tells me low in his throat for my ears only, standing there with his hands in his pockets with that blasé psychiatrist look on his face.

  I remove my other arm and his eyes instantly drop to my nipples. I see that look come into his eyes and right now I could care less about anything but having him. “Can we reschedule another appointment and then I can call my parents and tell them not to come?” I ask loudly.

  He looks at his watch (fronting like a motherfucker). “My scheduling book is inside,” he says, pretending to sound reluctant before he holds up his hand to his wife. “I’ll just be a minute, baby.”

  With my back safely to her, I roll my eyes as he turns, unlocks the door, and leads me inside. As soon as he closes the solid wood door and locks it behind us I bunk my ass up right there on the bottom of the steps that lead to the second level where he holds group sessions. I wiggle my ass as I politely toss my skirt up exposing my ass.

  He slaps it with one hand but motions for me to turn. “You know I cum faster when you ride.”

  He drops his pants and takes a seat on the step. I climb right on that dick and began working my hips like I’m trying to win a damn hoola hoop contest. Sweat pops on the top of his bald head and steam covers his glasses as I enjoy the feel of his hands on my ass, his lips on my hard nipples, and his hard dick pressing against my clit.

  In no time at all we both are kissing each other to keep from hollering out too loud as we cum together. Even though we rushing I don’t stand up until I work my pussy walls and squeeze all the hardness and cum from his dick. Humph. It’s good to the very last drop. Fuck Folgers.

  I don’t say another word to him while I straighten my skirt over my hips and push my titties back inside my bra. I got what I wanted. Wet ass and all, I strut right out that hallway and give his wife a friendly smile and a wave before I hop in my ride and haul ass with a squeal of my tires.