BFF's 2 (10 page)

“Trina, stop being so difficult. If you have something on your mind, let's go upstairs and discuss whatever it is. I'm not going to stand here and discuss my business in front of everyone. Nor am I going to ask my brother and my friends to leave because you decided to show up without calling. For some reason, your insecurities are taking over, and you have no reason, whatsoever, to feel insecure around me.”

I lifted my finger and pointed it near his face. “This has nothing to do with me being insecure. I have my reasons for not wanting my friends in your house, but . . . never mind.” I moved around Keith and headed toward the kitchen's doorway. He reached for my arm to stop me.

“Calm down, all right? You have got to stop all of this madness. Please tell me what has got you so on edge like this.”

I didn't respond, so Keith took my hand. He led the way, and as we walked past the living room, I saw Evelyn sitting close to Bryson again. She sipped from the glass of wine and laughed as if she was having the best time ever.

“You are a cheater,” Bryson said to her. “I don't play with women who cheat.”

That hookah was way more than that. If he only knew how she really was.

Keith and I went all the way up the stairs to his studio. I guess he didn't want anyone to hear me yelling or cussing him out. I hadn't intended on going there, until I sat on the couch and saw a sketch that was on his workstation. He tried to snatch it up, but his hands weren't quicker than my eyes.

“Please tell me that I didn't just see what I think I saw.”

“What did you see?”

Why in the hell did he opt to go there? See, these were the kinds of games that I didn't have time for. He knew damn well what I was talking about. To stand there and try to play clueless infuriated me even more. I tried to snatch the sketchpad from his hand, but he held it up high so I wouldn't get it.

“Listen,” he said as I stood in front of him. “I forgot all about this. The last thing I need is for you to get the wrong idea. This sketch is totally innocent, and I drew it spur of the moment.”

I held out my hand. “Let me see it.”

Keith sighed and gave the sketch to me. As I suspected, it was a sketch of Evelyn. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tossed the sketch on the couch.

“Do you care to tell me when you did that? Or did it happen during one of her several visits over here?”

Keith had a look on his face as if this was going to be difficult for him to explain. He massaged his hands together, shifted his eyes to the doorway, sighed, and then responded, “She stopped by to get Bryson's phone number. That's when I did the sketch.”

“How does a person who stops by to get a phone number, wind up sitting on the couch in your studio with her legs crossed, and getting sketched?”

“I invited her to come upstairs to see my artwork.”

“What else did you invite her to see? I mean, why not your bedroom?”

“Trina, stop it. It wasn't even like that.”

“How do I know it wasn't? All of a sudden, she's showing up at your house, being all chummy and shit with you and your friends. Then I find out that she's been on the same couch that you done screwed me on time and time again. Not to mention that her phone number is on the sketch, too, Keith. This ain't looking too good, and I honestly don't trust you or her.”

“If you truly believe that I've been having sex with your friend, then there is no reason for this conversation to continue. It's bad enough that you don't even trust me anymore, but to suggest that I'm fucking your friend is pretty low.”

“Before you say anything else, all I ask is that you flip the script. Put yourself in my shoes. You walk into your friend's house and see a sketched picture of me on his table. Not once has he mentioned that I visited him before, but he took it upon himself to sketch a picture of me. How would you feel?”

“Honestly?”

“I wouldn't accept your response any other way.”

“Honestly, I wouldn't be mad. If he's considered my friend, I would trust him. Just like I would trust that you wouldn't go there with him. I would think that he drew the picture for me, or something like that.”

I was blunt. “Bullshit, Keith, and you know it. The question is, why did you sketch the picture anyway? I truly don't get it.”

To me, he looked to be fishing for an answer. Whatever his explanation was, I wasn't buying it. “I sketched it for Bryson. I was going to play a joke on him by sending him the picture, since he said he couldn't resist her.”

My eye twitched as I stared at Keith. “Apparently, you couldn't resist her. That was a bunch of crap you just said, but it doesn't even matter anymore. I'm out of here. I truly regret coming here to mend things with you.”

I walked out, and as I had expected, Keith didn't come after me. I was pissed, too, and I couldn't wait to call Kayla to tell her just how wrong her advice was.

Bryson and I had been seeing a lot of each other. Keith had given him my number, and I received a phone call later that day. We met up and clicked instantly, had a wonderful dinner at Outback Steakhouse; and then we went downtown to walk around. We talked about everything from his fiancée, who he wasn't really feeling, to his career that he loved very much. He and Keith were very close, and their parents, as well as their grandparents who had died and left Keith that house, were wealthy people.

Needless to say, I felt like I'd hit the jackpot. I explained my unfortunate financial situation to Bryson, and I told him how difficult it had been for me to find a job. Almost immediately thereafter, he got on the phone and made some phone calls. He set up an interview for me at the construction company he worked for. An administrative assistant position was open, and it paid $40,000 a year. That wasn't enough money to get overly hyped about, but I couldn't turn down the job right now. Plus, I had an opportunity to work close with Bryson. As the construction manager, he spent some of his time in the office, too. I was pleased about that. It would allow me the opportunity to keep my eyes on him.

Later that day, I drove to Bryson's condo for a quick dinner. I wanted to thank him for helping to get me a job, and he also loaned me $1,000 to assist with my rent. My landlord was happy to receive it. I told him I'd be starting a new job, so he backed off, knowing that I might be able to pay my rent on time.

Bryson popped a bottle of champagne and plopped down on the couch. He put the bottle up to his lips and guzzled down the champagne like it was water. When he finished, he slammed the bottle on the table and belched.

“Ahhh, you didn't want any of that, did you?” he said in a playful manner.

I moved closer to him on the sectional couch and threw my leg over his. I wiggled his tie loose and pulled it away from his neck.

“Champagne doesn't excite me as much as you do. And I prefer to have, or should I say give you a little something to show you how appreciative I am for the job and for the money you loaned me. I promise to pay it back, and I can't thank you enough.”

Bryson smiled as I removed his tie and started to unbutton his crisp white shirt. We hadn't had sex yet, but there was surely a lot of sexting going on between us. I was eager to find out what he was working with.

“Evelyn, I have a feeling that you're going to get me in a whole lot of trouble. You're so damn sexy, and I'm looking forward to you serving me, every chance you get.”

As I moved Bryson's shirt away from his chest and got a glimpse of his bulging muscles and tight abs, the pleasure would be all mine. There were no tattoos on his chest, like Keith's, and I had to admit that Bryson was a tad bit sexier. I maneuvered myself between his legs and got on my knees. While looking into his light brown eyes that were slightly slanted, I unlatched his leather belt. I pulled it away from his cut waistline and eased his zipper over the growing hump in his black slacks. Within seconds, his dick grew tall and escaped through the slit in his boxers. I touched the tip of it with my long fingernails then gripped it tight.

“Nice,” I said. “And thick and juicy, just how I like it.”

Bryson snickered and kept his eyes glued to me, awaiting my next move. That consisted of my mouth opening wide and covering his entire muscle. I saw his head drop back, and it wasn't long before his eyes closed. His hand touched the back of my head, and as I sucked him in to the back of my throat, he patted my neck and squeezed it.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned and lifted himself just a little to stroke my mouth. It was moving pretty fast, along with my hands. My saliva covered every inch of him, and he was so far down my throat that I thought I'd choke. But sucking dick was my specialty. I knew how to make a man's eyes roll to the back of his head. I perfected how to make his toes curl, and it wouldn't take long for his semen to shoot up like fireworks. Bryson was no exception. Within two minutes, I felt his grip on my neck tighten. He also yanked my hair, and his thrusts into my mouth were now at a speedy pace.

“Suck that shit, baby. Swallow all of it and don't let one fucking drop go to waste.”

My mouth swelled like a balloon as he released his juices inside of it. I didn't swallow all of it, but I licked some of the drippings from his pretty dick, which was now limp.

“Ahhhhh,” Bryson moaned again. His six pack fluttered and sweat beads rested on his stomach. I licked around the minimal, smooth hair above his dick, and then sucked my fingers.

“Now that,” I said, “was tasty.”

Bryson sat up and leaned forward. He brought his lips to my glossy ones and our tongues danced for a while. During the intense kiss, he reached for my hand and placed it on his muscle. I felt it swelling, but it wasn't as hard as it was the first time.

“Stroke it,” he said, backing away from my lips. “It'll get there.”

“I'm sure it will, but I have a better idea.”

I stood and unbuttoned the royal blue silk blouse that I wore. Within seconds, the blouse, my bra, and my tight skirt were in a pile next to me. All I stood in was a turquoise thong and my moisturized caramel skin glistened. Bryson's eyes scanned my plump breasts, which were sitting pretty. Then his eyes lowered to the tiny gap between my lips. My shaved slit was clearly visible, and it was inviting as well.

“You gon' make me hurt you, woman,” he said. “Perfection. Pure perfection.”

I couldn't have agreed with him more. He got up and laid me back on the couch. While bending over me, he reached for my panties and pulled them over my high-heeled shoes. He removed those as well, and tossed them over his shoulders. We both laughed, and before he did away with his slacks, he reached for a condom.

“You don't mind, do you?” he said, already putting it on. “I definitely don't want any children, and it's always good to be safe.”

I agreed, but I damn sure wouldn't mind having his child. His wealthy parents would spoil the baby. I was sure I would somehow benefit too. Not to mention all that Bryson would probably do. But regardless, we went at it. He wrapped my legs around his back and positioned his dick at the crevasses of my hole. It wasn't long before he snaked his thickness inside of me, causing my pussy lips to spread wide. Probably wider than they had ever been before, because I could definitely feel his meat stretching my insides. I released one of my legs from his waist and poured it over his shoulder. I had to represent how flexible I was, so I pointed my leg out straight, as if I were doing a split. Bryson tackled my goodies down below, and with each perfectly planned thrust, my pussy juices ran over. His shaft was glazed from top to bottom. We both watched his insertions, and I was so hot and bothered that I began to massage my own clit. Bryson licked his lips to prevent saliva from dripping from his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his breathing increased and his soft moans let me know just how good my pussy felt to him. I reached around to grip his solid ass, and all I felt was sweat. At the pace we were going, things were starting to get heated. Our naked, wet bodies slapped together, and as he sucked the shit out of my breasts, a high arch formed in my back.

“Brrrryson,” I cried out near tears. “I . . . My pussy would like to thank you for all of this. It feels guuuud, damn, you're making us feel sooooo guuud.”

Bryson didn't have a comeback, but his actions let me know that he felt the same way. He eased out of me, and as a flood of my juices ran onto the couch, all he could do was shake his head. He sat up straight and positioned me to stand in front of him with my back to him. I did so with straddled legs. Cum trickled down between my thighs, while Bryson massaged them. He also massaged my ass then he held my waist and motioned for me to squat. His dick stood straight up, ready to aim and shoot.

“Ease down on it,” he said. “And I won't complain if you drive me into overtime.”

He must've known how I operated. I definitely drove us into overtime by riding him backward. I then got on my hands and knees on the floor, and allowed Bryson to have anal sex with me. An hour and a half in, we were spent. We passed out on the carpeted floor, and I wasn't sure who had more carpet burns, him or me.

I was still knocked out. Bryson was too, until we heard hard knocks on his door. My leg was thrown over his and the smell of sex infused the air. I was so sticky between my legs. A shower was definitely what I needed, but it didn't appear that I was going to get it anytime soon.

“Damn,” Bryson said, getting off the floor. We both looked at the clock; it showed two thirty-five in the morning. The hard knocks continued, so Bryson turned to me.

“Do you mind going into my bedroom?” he asked. “I have a feeling that I know who this is.”

“No problem.” I got off the floor and moved into his bedroom. The king bed was neatly made and the soft comforter felt soothing against my naked body. I started to go by the door to listen in, but I could already hear the voice of a woman speaking.

“All day, Bryson,” she said. “I've been trying to reach you all day.”

“I had every intention of calling you back, but I got tied up. And I told you before about showing up like this. We agreed to go our separate ways for a while, and with you showing up like this, it doesn't help.”

“It doesn't help you, because you're always up to no good. We will never be able to fix our relationship if you refuse to answer your phone so we can talk about it. And while we agreed to go our separate ways for a while, that didn't mean we were supposed to stop communicating, did it?”

I rolled my eyes at this stupid heifer. I mean, how many women had to beg and plead with a man to get his shit right? Bryson's ass didn't need space. What he needed was more excitement in his life and some more pussy. I had a thing for men like him, but, at least, I knew from the beginning what I was dealing with. And while the dick was always beneficial to me, it had to come attached with money. Good dick without money wasn't worth my time.

As expected, the tears came into play. I could hear the woman crying about how Bryson had been so mean and disrespectful to her.

“You haven't done anything for me. You played me. I saw you with her . . .”

The ranting went on and on about why he didn't do this or that, and he didn't seem to care anymore. If so, then why in the hell was she standing in his condo at almost three o'clock in the morning, eager to repair their relationship? I just didn't get it, and I despised women who were too stupid to realize that most men didn't give a damn about those tears.

“What else can I do?” she cried. “You say that you love me, and that we're going to get married. But when, Bryson? Please tell me when.”

“N-e-v-e-r,” I said in a whisper. According to Bryson, they'd been engaged for four years. If it hadn't happened by now, didn't she know she was wasting her time? I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I didn't have to. I heard some tussling going on, and a few seconds later, the woman came busting into the room. I was surprised to see that she was white.

Her teary eyes fluttered as she saw me sitting on the bed with no clothes on. She looked as if she wanted to pass out. She covered her mouth, as if this was really a surprise to her. By how calm Bryson was, I could tell this wasn't the first time he'd been busted. He held her shoulders, massaging them, as she sobbed and appeared to weaken.

“Libby, go home,” he said in a smooth, calm tone. “We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay? Don't do this to yourself
again.
”

Libby choked up even more. The look in my eyes dared her to say anything smart to me. If she did, she would catch hell. She doubled over and held her stomach.

“Why?” she cried out. “Why do you keep doing this to meeeee?”

Was she asking me why? If so, her answer was simple. Because her dumb ass let him. I had no sympathy for her, but apparently, Bryson did. He eased his arms around her waist to hold her up. He continued to smooth talk his way out of this.

“Come on, Libby. Calm down, baby, and get yourself together. You don't have to do this. You know who I love. All I wanted to do was have a little fun, since we were separated. You know it wouldn't go down like this, if we were together.”

“But you can have all the fun you want to with meeee. Why her, Bryson, why her?”

What did she mean by why her? Did she have to ask? I mean, look at me. All she had to do was look at how gorgeous I was. Damn.

Bryson continued to hold her by the waist. He escorted her into the bathroom so she could get herself together. On their way there, he looked over Libby's shoulder and shrugged. Behind the concerned expression on his face was also a smirk.

Some men got a kick out of this shit; it made them feel special. There was no question in my mind that Bryson was one of those men. It would be a cold day in hell if he ever got me to react this way.

While in the bathroom, he washed Libby's face and patted it with a towel. He insisted that she stay calm, and then he asked her, again, to go home.

“I'll call you first thing in the morning. We'll have breakfast, and how about I make you some of those favorite blueberry pancakes you like?”

She sniffled and slowly nodded. I swear I wanted to get off the bed and go knock some sense into her. I don't believe that God intended for some women to be this damn stupid. This chick was worse than Kayla, and I didn't believe it got any worse than her. Black dick had the minds of many all fucked up.

Bryson held on tight to Libby as he escorted her toward the door. She gave me a quick roll of her eyes, but didn't say one word to me. I comfortably sat back on the bed with my hands behind me, my breasts poked out and my legs crossed. Minutes later, I heard the front door shut, and Bryson rushed back into the bedroom.