Baby, You're the Best (9 page)

CHAPTER 20

Blake

 

 

 

G
rowing up in a five-bedroom home I had to share a room with my sister, Teresa. She was a year younger than I. My two brothers shared a room and my other four sisters did the same, two to each room. Mama’s room was the only bedroom on the first floor. She seldom slept alone. Her gentlemen friends came and went without our seeing them. Sometimes I wondered if my dad was down there. The moaning and grunting, much like what I’d done with Spencer, was what I’d heard through the vents somewhere between midnight and six a.m.

I stared at Spencer’s ceiling. His snoring turned me on. It was a light fluttering sound with a pause between breaths. My head was on his chest; his arm was around my back. I felt amazing. I wished I could wake up to this each morning.

Being the older middle child of a large family, I used to be an introvert. I stayed in my room a lot. At first studying was my excuse but when the As started flooding my report cards, I liked being called “the smart girl.”

Somewhere along my way, that Billy Blackstone . . . where was he? After I lost my virginity to him, I felt as though I’d shared myself with the right guy. My feelings of having sex the first night with Spencer were the same. He was the best I’d had and that included Billy.

Daybreak greeted me good morning as rays beamed through the blinds. I heard birds chirping outside his window. I kissed Spencer’s chest. He stopped snoring. There wasn’t much time before I had to leave but a quickie would be nice. Peeling back the cover, I saw his dick was hard. My breathing became heavy.

A churning in the pit of my stomach growled. Air moved in short waves then stopped. Squeezing my cheeks, I quietly planted my feet on the floor.

Spencer’s hand gripped mine. “Where’re you going, Fabulous?”

I replayed our sex scenes in my head, thrilled that I’d squirted for the first time. I wondered if he could make me do that again. Would we do
it
again?

The pain in my abdomen subsided. Bubbles rippled in the opposite direction but eventually this gas had to escape and I refused to embarrass myself. Pressing the button on his cell to check the time, I saw he had ten text messages and fifteen missed calls from someone named Charlotte.

“I have to shower and go. My daughter scheduled a hair appointment for me.”

His cheek pressed against the pillow. I fingered his earlobe. Spencer’s voice trailed off. “This early?”

Letting go of his hand, I answered, “Yes. It’s for six.”

Sleepily, he asked, “What time is?”

“Five o’clock.”

“I’ma check out the inside of my lids for a sec. You wore me out.” He faintly smiled. “Wake me so I can make sure you get to your car safely. Don’t want anything happening to my new lady.”

No time to respond. I hurried to the bathroom, locked the door, turned on the vent, sat on the toilet, and released a lot more than trapped air. A painting of a woman holding a little boy’s hand hung on the wall facing me. Their eyes sparkled. Their smiles were joyful. The little boy in a white shirt, tie, pants, and loafers was Spencer. The woman in an all-white dress and shoes was presumably his mom. It was just the two of them. His hand seemed to disappear in the woman’s grip. All that showed was his thumb.

I stared in the mirror and smiled. For a second my eyes beamed, not wanting my connection with Spencer to end. Suddenly, I noticed the short lines gathered beside my eyes, bags sagging below. Maybe I should get NeuBelle and have my teeth whitened. My lips uncurled. The lines and bags vanished. Perhaps I hadn’t noticed the wrinkles before because I hadn’t had a reason to smile ear-to-ear. I was genuinely happy.

Turning away from the mirror, I unlocked the door, then stepped into the shower. Water splashing against my naked body brought that kind of inside-out pleasure I hadn’t sensed in years. I wanted to exhale my excitement with a loud sound of satisfaction. Instead I contained it.

I hoped I’d see Spencer again. It was unrealistic to expect a relationship commitment with Spencer. With all the missed messages from Charlotte, seems like he had a situation similar to mine. In ten years I’d be sixty. He’d be? I laughed at the fact that I didn’t know the answer. All he’d said was, legal.

I washed my arms, neck, and breasts. Tears of joy emerged. Was Spencer sincere when he called me his new lady? I stopped crying. I’d heard quite a few lines in my time. Men claimed they cared, then they’d cut off communication unexpectedly. Spencer was the change I welcomed but I’d let him take the next step.

The bathroom door opened. “Your birthday is officially over but I still have a present for you,” Spencer said. Joining me under the water, he pointed the showerhead toward the wall.

He squatted then spread my thighs. Looking down at Spencer, he was staring up at me. His lips pressed to mine. Spencer inserted his finger inside my pussy. My body shivered with pleasure. I gasped repeatedly. If I had this every day, could I handle him?

I’d heard that dicks have muscle memory. Would his dick become bored with me? Was that why men enjoyed sexing different women? Who was this Charlotte woman and what did she mean to him?

Spencer stood. “You’re not here with me, Fabulous.”

Maneuvering behind me, he pressed his stiff dick between my butt cheeks. I felt the tip of his head thrust against my asshole. “We have to work on your ADHD, Fabulous. We haven’t explored what’s behind door number two,” he said, grinding. “I bet that’ll hold your attention.”

I faced him. “I’ve had the most amazing time but I have to go or I’ll miss my appointment.”

“Stop by the restaurant later. I want to see you and your new do.” He stepped out of the shower as though he wasn’t asking.

I dried myself off, put on my dress, my heels. He eased into a pair of black sweatpants and a gray T-shirt. “You can leave your goodies here if you’d like. We can do a Groundhog’s Day.” Pressing his lips together, he smiled.

Why not,
I thought. I had two weeks off from work. I blurted, “Let’s go to Vegas for the weekend.”

“I’ll get the tickets today, Fabulous. Text me your info.”

Wait. What just happened? “I wasn’t serious.”

“Fabulous, you worry too much. You have to learn how to live in the moment.”

His hand cupped the nape of my neck. He pressed his lips to mine, opened his mouth, then slid his tongue past my teeth. I swallowed his sweet breaths and his saliva. Softly, at first we exchanged back and forth. Hungrily, he began to devour me and I did the same.

Gently, placing my hand on his chest, I pushed him back. “I’ll drop the money off to you by noon for my ticket.”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s your birthday. You’re my treat. I got you.”

I left my bags on the royal blue bench by the door to have a reason to come back to his place tonight. He escorted me to my car.

The last kiss before I drove off was the best.

CHAPTER 21

Blake

 

 

 

P
owering on my cell, I saw I had twenty missed calls. Three from Mercedes. Two from Devereaux. The rest were from Fortune.

Starting my Ferrari, I doubted I’d run into Alexis. Her late nights at the strip club with Chanel usually meant awakenings closer to noon. I drove past my daughter’s Lexus on the fourth level and kept going.

Happy that I no longer had to regret what it was like to live alone, I was excited that I was a single detached woman. I’d had sex with Spencer first so I knew Alexis wouldn’t come behind me. Just like the both of them I could entertain whomever, whenever I wanted.

I exited his garage, turned east onto Pharr Road. The joy of solitude while sitting on my sofa, I was looking forward to that. I could not wait to swim naked in my pool, chill in my Jacuzzi, hell, control the remote to my own television.

I called Brandon.

He answered, “Bitch, if you did not ride that dick I’m hanging up.”

I laughed. “He made me squirt.”

Silence followed.

“Hello?”

“Bitch, I just died and came back. I can’t hear this over the phone. Face-to-face. Where are you?”

My cheeks hurt from smiling. “I’m headed to see Marcus Darlin.”

“Bitch, stop! How did you get on his calendar? I’ma headed over there right now. Good-bye.”

Brandon really ended our call. I kept laughing, not remembering when was the last time I had a juicy sexcapade to tell anyone about. Sharing my body with Spencer was easy. He’d made it that way.

I stared at the photo Spencer had taken of us together, then made it my screen saver. He was so sexy. Those eyes. His closed smile. The thought of his lips between my legs a few minutes ago made me moist.

Turning onto Piedmont, I merged into the middle lane. The woman behind me needed to relax. Get laid. Stop blowing her horn and blow a man. Damn. I hadn’t sucked his dick. Didn’t even kiss it. Should I apologize? He didn’t seem to care. Glancing at my cell, I tapped my message app, then Spencer’s name.

A call came in from Mercedes as the person behind me skidded around my car at the Sidney Marcus Boulevard intersection. I stopped at the red light by Chick-fil-A to give her time to move on.

I answered, “Hey, honey.”

“Don’t hey-honey me. Where are you?” she demanded.

“On my way to the salon. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Mother, why haven’t you an—”

I ended the call, blasted Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love,” playing on 107.5, then shouted, “Oh, baby!” in my most raspy tone. All the way to the salon, I replayed the scene with my knees on his oversize chair.

As I turned onto Edgewood Avenue, thoughts of Spencer’s big dick inside my pussy filled me up. Gushing all over his smooth black leather chair made me shout, “Oh, baby!” I whipped my sports car into a space next to Mercedes’s car.

Marcus Darlin opened the door. “Blake, get your behind in here! If it weren’t for Mercedes begging me to stay, you’d be off my schedule.”

I was only fifteen minutes behind schedule. I rushed inside. Mercedes was in a stylist chair with her legs crossed. Her foot swayed back and forth.

Marcus Darlin pointed at his chair. “Sit.”

Fingering my hair, he commented, “No need to ask what you’ve been doing. What style do you have in mind?”

“Give her something elegant and age-appropriate. And trim those edges,” Mercedes said, thumbing through the recent issue of
Hair
magazine.

“Honey, too late for that. Her edges have already been trimmed,” Marcus Darlin said, then added, “Real good.”

Mercedes eyed my attire. “Mama, why did you still have that on?”

“Have what on?” Devereaux asked, entering the salon. She stopped. Stared. “Mama, you could’ve changed your clothes. Do you have on the same underwear?”

“Blake, plead the fifth,” Marcus Darlin said. “That’s why I never wear any.” He took my cell out of my hand and placed it in his drawer.

I laughed. I was in a great mood. “I’m clean. That’s all that matters,” I said.

Suddenly, I remembered Spencer’s car was at his job.

“Mercedes, Devereaux, out!” Marcus Darlin, shouted. “Come back in three hours to pick up Ms. Blake.”

“I need my phone, Marcus Darlin,” I told him.

My girls walked out. Brandon entered.

Marcus said, “You too. Out! Come back in three hours. And Ms. Blake, no. You are not getting your phone until I’m done.”

Spencer seemed resourceful. He’d get to his car. His seeing my new do would make him happy. I was actually relieved Marcus Darlin had put everyone out. That way I could get the style I wanted without their input.

CHAPTER 22

Spencer

 

 

 

R
olling over, I snagged my cell from the nightstand, ignored the messages from Charlotte, then texted Fabulous, miss you already

Lying on my back, I spread my thighs to let my nuts breathe. I did twelve dick curls. Had six more to go. Had to keep my foundation strong. Got the next half dozen out of the way, then moved on to my pull-and-resist exercise. Squeezing my shaft, I tugged my dick away from my body then I used my PC muscles to bring my dick toward me. I went back and forth until I’d done twenty. I did that every morning.

I’d read in one of my books that a hard dick drove women wild. That shit was true. Females didn’t care which hole my piece was in. They were fascinated that this motherfucka felt like steel. Glad I learned early on that fucking wasn’t the same as exercising. Pumping didn’t account for much if after busting loose I couldn’t get my shit right back up.

Damn, I didn’t know which was hotter, that blazin’ Ferrari, or Fabulous in that tight red halter dress with all that cleavage facing me while a brotha was trying to serve up cocktails last night. Her virgin asshole turned me on too. If she gave me the green light, I was break-in’ that all the way in. The right way. A little at a time. Vegas was the perfect spot.

Damn, I never asked Fabulous what she did to earn her keep. It didn’t matter. I knew it was legit. I could tell she wasn’t random like that daughter of hers. The one who’d tooted her ass in my direction. I hadn’t missed that. She knew I was interested in her mom. The way she moved let me know she was trouble with a capital
T.
Conversing with Alexis right before she left the restaurant, I’d gotten an erection. A man would never put on his drawers if he tried to get all the available pussy in the ATL but I couldn’t lie. I wanted to hit that. I’d be a fool to do so since I’d done her mom. Alexis was a different kind of crazy.
Freak
might be a better word.

Mother and daughter. I hadn’t done that at the same time before. Wondered if LB was still interested in Alexis. I shot him a text,
Ole gurl gave it up last nite. You still want in on her offspring?

I knew Blake wasn’t lying about her age. She could though. If she’d told me she was forty-five, I’d believe her. Forty. Not so much. I knew she had to have men of all ages trying to get with that the same way I was on it with a quickness. Atlanta was that spot. A lot of sexual interactions happened in less than twenty-fo of saying hello.

Soon as LB’s text,
give her my digs to give to her daughter,
came in, my doorbell rang. That wasn’t happening until I made up my mind about Alexis.

Eagerly climbing out of bed, I smiled, rinsed my mouth with wash, then rushed to the living room. Maybe she remembered what I’d mentioned about getting into the building. Maybe she came back to ride me before giving me a ride to my car.

I opened the door, and my smile disappeared. It wasn’t Fabulous.

It was Charlotte.

Leaving the door open, the first thing I noticed was she didn’t have my clothes. I went to the kitchen. Poured a shot of vodka, downed it, then refilled my shot glass. Downed that one, too, then refilled again.

“What’s up?” I asked her.

I used to cater to Charlotte until she cheated on me. Apparently one man wasn’t enough for her lil hot ass. Yeah, I probably deserved that shit now but before she’d stepped out, I was one hundred faithful.

My ego was more of a bitch than any female. But on the real, I hated the fucking drama.

“Where my . . .” Charlotte paused. Stared at the bag on the bench.

Damn!
Before I got to the bag, she snatched it.

“Who’s this shit for?” she asked, thumbing through Fabulous’s things.

I told her, “You. Take it with you on your way out.”

“You’re a damn liar, Spencer!” Charlotte stood inches from me. Looked up at my face. She did not blink once.

I went to the kitchen counter, picked up the glass, tossed back the shot. Refueled. This woman literally drove me to drink whenever she was on. Our relay wasn’t always this amplified.

“What bitch did you fuck last night? She ate my food, too?”

Walking around her, I answered, “Not today.” I went to my bedroom.

Charlotte was so close on me I felt her breasts nudge my back.

“I said! Not today!”

“Oh, I see y’all had a good time! You give that bitch my Charlotte special?” She rubbed her fingertips on my black leather chair. “Uh-huh. Fuck you, Spencer!”

She tapped her shoe on the floor in front of the chair. “You bastard! You made her squirt! I taught you that shit!”

What difference did that make? She got the info from reading one of my books. Charlotte and no other woman I’d bedded had a monopoly on sexual techniques and positions. Hell, I expected to learn something from every woman I sexed. Otherwise what was the point? Fabulous would teach me some things eventually.

Tossing the cover back, Charlotte said, “That’s why your sheets are scrambled like your eggs? Huh, motherfucka?”

No use in denying or admitting the truth. This woman should’ve been a forensic scientist, police, or a dominatrix. Charlotte wasn’t a control freak. She was straight crazy.

“Charlotte. Please, leave. I’m asking you nicely to . . .” My voice trailed off, then escalated, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

She stormed out of the bedroom. Slammed the door. The next sounds I heard were shattering. I ran into the living area.

“I’m tired of you fucking up my shit every time you get pissed off! Where’s your other nigga! Go fuck up his shit!” I opened my front door. “Get out!”

No one would understand if I’d beat her ass. Why did she provoke me? Exhaling, I pictured the photo hanging in my bathroom of my mom and me. We were so happy back that Easter Sunday. Why did she have to leave me? Life wasn’t the same without her. Nobody understood how close we were. No one was there for me now. Not even Charlotte. I was supposed to be tough and shit but I was weak when it came to missing my mom. That was my main gurl. After the funeral everyone who’d said, “I’m here for you,” retreated to their world.

I wished I could put a time frame on grieving. Seem like my pain was never going to end. When my mom stopped breathing, a part of me stopped caring until I’d met Charlotte. Then my gurl shattered my ego.

So what if I did give Blake the “Spencer,” not “Charlotte” special. Charlotte didn’t have a dick. Everybody deserved to feel good and the next breath wasn’t promised to me or anyone else.

Charlotte’s father was killed a year ago. She was no longer Daddy’s girl. An accident, a couple fighting while driving, ran him into an embankment on I-85 South near the Williams exit. Maybe that was why she started seeing the other guy. After she lost her dad, I believed she was in search of the nurturing her father gave her.

I gave her attention but knew that wasn’t the same. She couldn’t give me what moms did. I couldn’t replace her old man. I had no idea how to keep her happy anymore but I knew for sure that I hated this shit!

Charlotte started crying. “I don’t want him. I made a mistake. If you don’t want to be with me just say so. And you’ll never have to say it twice.”

She knew I had a weak spot in my heart for her. I hugged her close to my chest. The tears I cried were for my mom. I wondered what hers were for? Why were we destroying one another? I loved this woman. But there were times when she drove me fucking nuts.

I wasn’t cool with the fact that my gurl had opened her legs for another man. But I wanted to get to know Fabulous better. People fascinated me. What was Fabulous’s story? She had a bittersweet kind of vibe. She wasn’t on sabbatical from sex like some of the other older women I’d met. I imagined someone was getting that on a regular.

A woman who hadn’t had sex in over a year tasted like a new car smelled, fresh. Not that Fabulous smelled bad. She just didn’t have that just-off-the-assembly-line odor. Neither did her Ferrari. She’d had those wheels for a minute.

I placed my hand on the doorknob. “Give me a few days to cool off,” I said, not wanting to put a time limit on it.

I was definitely keeping my commitment to Fabulous about our trip to Las Vegas. After the vacay, I’d stay with Charlotte, or let her go.

“I’ma clean your mess up, again,” I said, pointing to the glass in my kitchen area. “Seriously, this time, Charlotte. Think about what you want. I’ll do the same. When we—”

Charlotte yanked down my sweats, kneeled before me, then started licking and sucking my dick like it was an ice cream pop. Since Fabulous hadn’t gotten or jacked me off, I closed my front door.

This was why I had the hardest time letting Charlotte go. Her mouth never got tired. Thank God, I had seven hours before I had to be at work.