Live and Learn (21 page)

“M
o? You here?” I called out as I walked in tomy old apartment and kicked off my shoes—out of habit. I closed the door with a push of my hip since my arm was filled with a cake box.

Dom was getting out of rehab today, and I wanted to throw a little welcome home party for her. Nothing big, just me, Kimani, and Mo.

No Diane. She was already pissed that Dom was not moving back in with her, but that was her problem.

No Alizé. I will say one thing for the bitch, she said she did not consider Dom a friend anymore, and she was sticking to that. Now that Dom was out, the split in the friendship was going to cause some strain. Hell, were they going to fight at my damn wedding?

No Sahad. He was still in Atlanta for a big talent search the label was holding. That big old apartment was even bigger without him—or rather without knowing that he would walk through the door no matter how late. It was always worse when he was out of town.

I set the cake box on the dining room table and reached in my crocodile Hermès Birkin bag for my new Blackberry. I hit the #1 speed dial. I was disappointed but not at all surprised when Sahad’s phone went to voice mail. “Just felt like hearing your voice, baby. I guess you’re busy. Uhm, I’m at my old apartment for Dom’s welcome home party. Wish you were here. Call me. Bye.”

Dropping the phone back into my bag, I walked back to my old master suite, now Moët’s room. It was empty; she was not there.

Maybe it was a good sign she had finally left the house. The first time she moved as far as I knew.

“Hope she gets back before I leave to go pick up Dom,” I said to myself as I crossed the hall to the guest room where Dom and Kimani would be staying.

Ding-dong
.

My hand froze on the knob, and I made my way back out to the living room. “Mo must have left her key.”

Funny how living alone made you talk to yourself.

“Good thing I was here to let…you…”

The rest of my words trailed off at the sight of Mohammed.

“Hello there, Miss Danielle.”

My heart hammered until I was almost deaf. My hands trembled, and I slid them in the pockets of my linen slacks.

This reaction—my reaction—to him was not unexpected. So completely expected.

“Hey, Mohammed. Where’s your girlfriend?” I asked, standing on my toes to look over his shoulder.

He just laughed and dropped his head, causing his thin locks to swing down and partially cover his handsome face. He tilted his head up a bit and locked those eyes—those damn sexy eyes—on me.

My knees weakened, and I reached out for the doorknob to steady myself.

“Where ya man?” he asked with that accent.

“Working.”

“All work and no play makes Miss Danielle a sad girl.”

I took a little breath, but nothing would slow down my pulse.

“I have to give you an invitation to my wedding,” I said in a rush, trying to remind myself more than throw him off.

“You think I want to watch you marry another man when I love you so much.”

His words were like pushing PAUSE on the DVD. My heart stopped. My body froze. My eyes widened.

“That’s right,” he said, cocky and self-assured. “I love you, Danielle. And you love me, too.”

In an instant the PLAY on the invisible remote got pushed. My heart pounded. My body trembled. My eyes clouded over.

He stepped into the living room, and his heat surrounded me just before his arms did. “Don’t you?” he asked, pressing our bodies together.

My hands came up to his chest, but I found myself gripping his shirt instead of pushing him away.

He was not the man of my well thought out plans. He was not my Mr. Right. He did not make enough money. He didn’t drive the car. He didn’t have the right job.

But…

God, I never felt so alive as when I was in his company.

I missed him. Craved him. Wanted him so very much.

I could talk to him. Laugh with him. Just chill with him.

I had to have him. Just once. Just this one time I had to know if he was as good as I thought.

Then I would marry Sahad and live the life I dreamed of.

Just once.

“Fuck me, Mohammed,” I begged in a whisper just before his head lowered and his lips crushed against mine.

He growled a little, and I felt the bud between my legs throb and ache. “Fuck you or make love?” he asked against my lips.

It felt so naughty and dirty to talk naughty and dirty. It had been so long since I dropped my shell and got back to the
real
Cristal.

“Right now, I want you to fuck the hell out of me,” I told him with every bit of honesty I had in me, leaning back to look up into his hot eyes as my hands undid his belt.

Mohammed used his foot to nudge the front door closed as he picked me up easily with one strong arm around my waist. “My pleasure,” he whispered back.

I tangled my slender fingers in his locks, making fists as I lowered my head and traced the outline of his full lips with my quivering tongue while he carried me to the couch. His lips shifted down to nuzzle my neck with his lips, suckling soft tender spots from my collarbone as he whispered patois against my moist flesh. As he laid me down and knelt between my open thighs, I unbuttoned the white shirt I wore, exposing my breasts—firm and high—as they filled the delicate cups of my black lace bra. He used his strong hands to pull his T-shirt over his head, revealing his rigid six-pack abs and broad shoulders. I let my fingers play in the soft hairs on his chest and enjoyed the slight tremor I felt race across his body.

As his hands moved up the soft silk of my body to warmly grasp my breasts, I didn’t care about anything but enjoying being with him. Not my white furniture. Not his girlfriend. Not Sahad. Not my wedding and my good life. Not a damn thing.

He stood long enough to kick off his sneakers and finish unbuttoning his pants. They dropped to his feet as he massaged the thick, throbbing length of his dick.

I pressed my legs together and groaned with a little lick of my lips at the muscular eleven inches with a curve that made that dick sure to please.

“Stand up and put that pussy in my face, woman.” He sat down on the sofa, his legs wide open as he stroked his dick and squeezed the tip.

I rose to my feet and stepped between his open legs, presenting him my ass as I hitched my precious four-hundred-dollar skirt up around my waist like it came from Wal-Mart. I looked over my shoulder, working my clinging panties down my hips as I made my ass jiggle like I was the ex-stripper and not Dom!

Mohammed bit his bottom lip lightly and reached out with one hand to lightly slap my ass as I slowly bent over and put the pussy in his face just like he asked.

“Damn,” I heard him whisper as he sat on the edge of the couch and grabbed both of my ass cheeks with his hands.

I shivered as he sucked small hickies onto each one before he spread my cheeks and licked a freak-nasty trail from my swollen clit and fat pussy lips up to circle my asshole before he blew cool air against it.

Back and forth he went like he was on a fuckin’ mission. From pussy to ass. Blow. Pussy to ass. Blow. Pussy to ass. Blow. And all over again and again.

“I knew this pussy would taste good.”

I smiled. “It’s good, ain’t it?”

“Uhm, uhm.” He sucked my pussy whole.

“Best you ever tasted?” I asked brazenly as I wrapped my hands around my ankles and gave him a little ass shake.

“Damn right,” he said, slapping my ass like he was trying to jumpstart me. “Now let me give
you
the best you ever had.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked as the juices of my core lightly dampened the top of my inner thighs.

“
Hell,
yeah.”

He rose, lightly tapping my ass cheeks with his dick, making solid “thuds” before he bent his knees to work the thick, smooth tip inside me.

I gasped as each delicious inch filled me ’til I felt nothing but sweet pressure as his hands grasped my ass. I cried out, sweat coating my body as my clit jumped and throbbed and pulsated.

“The pussy so hot,” he moaned just as he pushed in the last final inch until I felt the soft curly hairs of his groin scratch my buttocks as he wiggled his hips.

I winced as I tried to adjust to his size, but I didn’t want one bit of that dick out of me. I tweaked and teased and pinched my own pebble-hard nipples with my quivering fingers as I worked my pussy walls like I was trying to give that dick CPR.

Slowly, like he had nothing else in the world he wanted to do, Mohammed began to ease that dick in and out of me. I felt every pulsating vein and every strong muscle slide against my tight walls until the sound of my juices and the slapping of our flesh echoed in the room with our moans of pleasure.

I began to circle my hips, and a jolt shot through me as I felt his dick harden even more. It felt like a cement rod stirring in my flesh.

“You should see this dick going in and out this good pussy,” he said thickly.

“Uhhhmmm,” I hummed in pleasure, reveling in the flow of electricity between our bodies as we connected.

“Uhm, uhm,” he answered in return, fucking me a bit harder so that my breasts slapped against my chest.

I reached behind me to put a restraining hand to his abdomen. I bent my legs and worked my hips up and down so that my slickly wet pussy walls pulled downward on his snakelike dick like a vise grip.

His grip tightened on my waist until I almost hollered out in pain, but the pleasure of our sex overrode any other feeling.

“Danielle,” he moaned.

I could visualize him flinging his head back until his dreads nearly touched the top of his hard, square buttocks.

“Damn right, you big dick motherfucker, say
my
damned name,” I demanded, feeling free and sexy and powerful.

“Make me say it,” he teased sexily.

I moved my hands up to grip the edge of the coffee table and began to pop my hips and pussy like I was trying to save my life. “Say it.”

He shifted his hands to grip my ass.

“Say—” Pop. “It!” Pop-pop.

“Danielle.”

“Louder!” I shouted as my heart thundered like a storm.

Pop-pop-pop-pop.

“Danielle.”

“Aw, hell no. Lou-der.”

Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.

“Danielle,” he cried out hoarsely at the top of his lungs.

I laughed huskily as I slowed the pace and circled my hips.

Suddenly Mohammed bent his weight down on me and took control, fucking me like he was a madman. I cried out in pleasure, my face twisted as each jolt made my pussy wetter. He fucked me down to my knees until I was bent over the coffee table. My titties and the side of my face were pressed flat against the cool wood.

“Gracious,” I cried out as each stroke made his heavy balls swing and hit against my clit as he softly kissed the smoothness of my shoulder while fucking me like a machine.

“Now say
my
fucking name,” he ordered huskily in that sexy accent of his.

“Mohammed.”

“Again.”

“Mohammed. Mohammed. Mohammed!”

“Hold still, baby. Don’t move.”

We were both still. So very still as he held me close, his dreads surrounded my upper body like a shield.

I felt his dick throb. Once. Twice. Three times.

“You feel that,” he asked thickly as he sucked my earlobe.

I closed my eyes and nodded. “You came?” I asked, disappointed it was over.

“Just a little bit.”

I felt the hard muscles of his body pressed into my back as the pounding of his heart echoed my own.

I felt him lean up a bit, and I knew he was looking down at me.

“I love you, Danielle.”

Tears welled up in my chest at his words and the raw emotion evident in them.

“I love you, too,” I whispered back, unable to deny the truth. “So very much.”

He kissed my tears and held me closer as he began to slow-grind his hips against mine, causing little tiny thrusts of his dick deeper inside of me. It was just as lethal as the pussy pounding.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he began to talk to me as he made love to me.

“I love the way your eyes light up when you smile.

“I love the smell of your perfume on your skin.

“I love the way you laugh.

“I love the way you say my name.

“I love the way your body feels when you ride on my bike.

“I love how smart you are.”

On and on and on he worshiped my soul with his words and my body with his dick until I let the tears flow and gave in to him completely.

So completely that I didn’t hear the front door unlock and swing open.

“What the fuck?”

My eyes popped open at the intrusion, and I turned my head to look at Sahad storming toward us.

Mohammed and I sprang apart, and I clutched a pillow to hide my nakedness as Sahad and Mohammed began to tussle, falling backward on the coffee table and sending it crashing to the floor as the legs broke.

“Stop it! Stop it,” I cried, dropping the pillow to pull at Sahad’s neck as he landed atop Mohammed and began to strangle him.

He flung me off him like a fly, and I landed a bit away, almost hitting the bar.

“You motherfucker you,” Sahad shouted as he raised up to deliver Mohammed a blow.

Mohammed reached up first and gave Sahad a vicious uppercut that sent him backward onto the sofa.

I dashed between them, forgetting my nudeness as they both jumped to their feet, and I put a restraining hand on both their chests.

“Stop…it!”

Sahad looked down at me, and I forced myself not to look away. “This the motherfucker you want?” he asked in a cold, hard voice.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I really am.”

“No good trick.” He reached for my hand, wrestling the engagement ring from my finger before he turned and walked out of the apartment. “I come home early to surprise your ass to find
this
shit? Stay the fuck away from me, Danielle.”

He slammed the door behind him.

Leaving that voice mail on his phone had sent Sahad right to the scene of my betrayal.

Mohammed gathered me into his arms, and although I knew I hurt Sahad, I knew that nothing felt more right in the world than being held by the man I loved.