Lying Lips

Lying Lips

Believe half of what you see and
none
of what you hear!

Lock Down Publications

Presents

Lying Lips

A Novel by
Mahaughani Fiyah

Copyright 2014 by Mahaughani Fiyah Lying Lips

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in review.

First Edition October 2014

Printed in the United States of America

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  

Lock Down Publications

Email:
[email protected]

Facebook:
Author Mahaughani

Cover design and layout by:
Dynasty’s Cover Me

Book interior design by
:  Shawn Walker

Edited by:
Epic Kreationz

This book is dedicated to:

My mother for buying me as many books as I asked her for when I was a kid. By doing that you laid the ground work for me to one day become a writer. There are not enough thanks in the world to show my appreciation for something as big as that.

Marcia Palmer for bugging me repeatedly to complete another book so that she could have something to read. (And for badgering me to death about the ending of my last book.) Thank you for supporting the things I write. You have no idea how much that means to me.

Fredrica Palmer for repeatedly asking me what was taking so long to give her something else to read. You kept me on my toes whenever I started to slip even slightly. Thank you so much for being a fan.

And finally, to my son for being the reason I decided to pursue my dream. Giving you the best life possible is the motivation behind every word I pen.

Lying lips
are
abomination to the LORD: but they that deal truly
are
his delight.

(Proverbs 12:22 KJV)

Fiyahlogue

A
Fiyahlogue
is a blazing introduction to the characters in the book in the characters’ own words. It’s them giving you a steamy sneak peek into their lives as they try to get you to see them the way they see themselves,
and
the way they want you to see them. It’s them intimately telling it like it is in their own words. The good, the bad, and the flaming hot! Ebonically speaking, it’s fiyah words spoken by fiyah people in a fiyah book Thus, their dialogue has now become my Fiyahlogue!

Enjoy!

Fiyahlogue

My grandmother often said that you should believe half of what you see and none of what you hear. I guess I should have been the poster child for that quote. I was a bad girl, a really bad girl. I lied every chance I got, gave a damn about no one but myself, and even though I looked like an innocent, acted like the perfect angel, deep down inside I was Satan’s spawn. Luciferinia to the bitter end.

Being raised by a preacher daddy and a first lady mama was enough to bring out the hidden Lucifer in anyone.
Don’t do this. Don’t say that. Behave like this. You shouldn’t behave like that.
That shit drove me insane. My mind was telling me to be bad. My body was telling me to be really bad. My parents, my family, were telling me to be a good Christian girl or God would punish me.

It was that kind talk, that kind of mental torture that was my undoing, my unraveling. It was that kind of oppression that led me to a deep depression, that kind of suppression that made me want to kill everybody just so I could be free.

I wanted to live. To laugh. To love, really love.

But I couldn’t because they controlled it all.

Them and their religious views.

They told me what to do, and I did it. They told me when to do, and I did it. They told me how to do, and I did it. And in doing their bids I was miserable. Absofuckinglutely miserable. I despised my life. Hated it. And slowly, but surely, that rage that was smoldering on the inside of me was molding me, shaping me, turning me into a sociopath that was two shakes of a straitjacket and one trigger pull away from being a known psychopath instead of a secret one.

That’s why when he came along,
him
, I thought I had died and gone to a sadistic Heaven. He saw the real me. Loved the real me. Desired the real me. And because of that love, that real, true love, he freed me. He brought out the hell in me. He freed the demons in me.  He unleashed the beasts in me.

He let me live.

Taught me how to live in all the evil magnificence that had been in me since birth.

And from that day on, my life, and the life of my entire family, was never the same.

All because of my profound wickedness, my evil manipulations, and the seductiveness of my lying lips.

Chapter 1

The first time I saw him, I had to have him. He was young. Virile. Handsome. And every move he made had me more and more desperate to feel him in ways that I just knew were dead wrong.

As I jogged past him, I couldn’t help the smile that displayed itself on my lips. A smile that should have told him just how much I wanted him. How much my body craved to be touched by him. I didn’t know this man and yet everything in me was ready to submit to his sexual will and share my all with him. Everything, leaving no part of me untouched.

I was suddenly glad I had lost those fifteen pounds I’d been struggling with for the last decade or so, because the sports bra I was wearing at the moment was loose and as I slowly ran past him, my breasts bounced like I was filming a trailer for Baywatch.

He was paying attention, close attention. His eyes couldn’t seem to get enough of me and even though he was watching my breasts more than my face, I was ecstatic, turned on, downright horny. Then we ran past each other, and the chemistry was electrifying!

When he was no longer in my line of sight, I could feel my heart racing and not from my morning workout. The muscles I saw rippling all over him were a complete aphrodisiac. His hands were massive and the thought of them covering my breasts, rubbing all over my perky twins made me hungry for him. I was stunned at just how strongly my body reacted to this stranger, this man I had never seen before in my life.

I tingled and a small trail of goose bumps traveled up my body from my toes all the way to my neckline. What was happening to me? I had no idea, but I liked it. A lot. As I kept on with my jog, thoughts of him had my yoni hot and moist and working in overdrive. I soon found that I needed to touch myself in ways that would have me pleased for days and it was then that I chose to make myself get a grip.

I had to force myself to change my train of thought, but I was able to do it. And when I did, I started to calm down. My feelings slowly returned to normal and I began to focus on my job. The deadlines, the mountain of work I needed to complete, my family. Soon all fantasies of the sexy stranger were pushed from my head and my usual everyday issues filled my think tank.

On my last lap around the trail in the park, I decided to pick up speed as I often did during my workouts. I was coming upon the end of my sprint and just as I got to the densely wooded area that was about a tenth of a mile before the end of the trail, I felt someone come from behind and viciously yank my body from the path and into the woods. I was immediately petrified.

I tried with all of my might to scream, but a hand was quickly placed over my mouth. I tried wrangling and writhing my body to get free of the assailant, but his grip on me was like a vice and
I
couldn’t move while my
abductor
was moving faster than the speed of light as he carried me deeper and deeper into the wooded area.
This cannot be happening to me!

Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity, all movement stopped and I was gently lowered to the ground, placed on my feet, and my body was slowly turned around to face my captor.

It was him
!

The man who had made my entire body tingle only minutes before.

He was standing less than two feet in front of me with a look on his face that told me he wanted me just as badly as I’d wanted him earlier. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t even mad. I was hot in the pants. And so was he. The look he was sporting told me that I was free to walk away at any time, that this wasn’t a vicious attack. I wasn’t about to be raped and victimized. This was to be a sex session like no other. Pure and simple lust. He wanted me and lord knows I wanted him.

The Christian life I had been living since my parents first dragged my infant body into the church suddenly seemed easy for me to shed. The morals that had been preached into me didn’t seem to matter anymore. The Lord that I had been faithfully serving all of my life became nonexistent as I stared into the eyes of the succulent stranger looking at me with sinful desire in his eyes. I knew then that I was going to walk away from the Heaven that had been ingrained in me for a moment in Hell with the decadent devil that wanted me.

With no words shared between us, he was gentle when he backed me into a huge oak tree and began to kiss me with a passion that took my breath away. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I could only give in. For a few minutes I was helpless as he used his tongue to probe places in my mouth that were as of yet undiscovered.

I whimpered. I moaned. I kissed him back. In what seemed to span the length of a heartbeat, he was quick to turn me to face the gigantic tree. Before I could react or adjust to having my body moved so roughly, so vigorously, I could feel my sweat pants being swiftly lowered, my panties being ripped and a huge, filling, heated shaft stretching my inner silkiness from behind.

“Aaaaahhhh,” I moaned. I could do nothing more. I tried my best to hug the trunk of the tree that my body was firmly pressed into. I bit my lower lip, dug my nails into the bark. He thrust. He filled me. He drove into me. I creamed. He continued. “Oh, gawd,” I moaned sensually when I felt another explosion coming on. He thrust. Gripped my ass. Thrust some more.

“You like this don’t you?” He demanded an answer. I couldn’t speak. No words would form on my lips. All I could do was shake my head yes. “You like being fucked by a stranger, being taken by someone you don’t know?”

Years of Christian upbringing told me that I should be screaming, that I should be scared out of my mind, but I wasn’t. I loved what was happening to me, the way it was making me feel. I was confused. I felt wicked. I wondered what was wrong with me.

Had I lost my mind? Had I gone completely crazy? Why was it feeling so good to me? Why was my body responding so beautifully to this sensual assault? I had no idea why. I just wanted to keep him in me until I faded from existence. I inhaled deeply and could only respond to him with what I was really feeling.

“Yes!”

That seemed to please him. He worked his manhood faster. Harder. I was so full I felt as though I would burst.

“Tell me you love it.” He spoke angrily as he gripped my hips tightly and plunged into me with gentle force.

“I love it.” I whispered with no hesitation.

“Say it again.” He commanded.

“I love it.” I said a little louder.

He grabbed my hips and pulled them away from the tree. He placed his hand on my back and forced me to bend forward, all the while I never let go of the tree that was keeping me grounded. He pounded my womanhood with a vengeance. I creamed. I could feel my inner juices escaping, running down the inside of my thighs.

“Tell me again.” He ordered.

“I love it, I love it, I love it,” I chanted, this time louder, more passionate.

That appeased him. His movements stiffened. Quickened. He plowed angrily into me. He moaned. A deep, passionate, soulful moan.

“Tell me you love it.” He barely spoke it, almost whispered it.

“Oh, gawd,” I said with a passion I didn’t know I possessed, “I love it!”

He came. Filled me with his hot protein. I creamed again. My body thoroughly nourished by the vitamins and minerals he was injecting me with. He filled me even more. For the longest time he held my limp structure to his as he allowed everything to escape him and flow like a raging river into me. My legs shook violently. I was satiated and ashamed at the same time.

He thrust a little more. Slowly. Long strokes. He moaned again, as if in great pleasure and great pain. The last of his fluid eased into me. The stranger then eased himself out of me and stood upright. He gently helped me to raise my body into a standing position and then turned me to face him. He smiled. I blushed. It was kismet.

He bent to pull my sweats back up, softly French kissing my chocha along the way. I mewled like a baby kitten until he was done. He removed his tender kisser from me. Stood. Wasted no time in straightening my clothes. He returned me to my previous state. Held my gaze for a brief moment.

“I’m Asanti Styles,” he said as he handed me a business card with his name and several numbers on it. Then before I could reply in any way, he turned his back to me and walked off, leaving me standing in the middle of the woods in stunned silence.

I couldn’t wait to call him. All day as I worked, I thought of him, of how thoroughly he took me. He was on my mind every minute of every hour, playing with my senses, my memory. Tantalizing my body without a single touch, without even being near me. I felt so alive, so heated, so open and ready to receive him again.

Concentration became almost impossible. Everything I had planned for the day was thrown out of the window in favor of sitting in my office alone, daydreaming about Asanti. Unable to continue with my work, I decided to get myself together for the move coming up. I had a lot of packing to do as I was going back home in less than a month and I figured the packing would distract me. It did.

After three hours of ensuring that all of my knick knacks were put away and sealed up in boxes, I went into the shower. I put the water on hot, extremely hot, and as I began to wash, images of the morning’s fulfillment danced through my memory. I had no choice but to ease my fingers down my body and into my pleasure chamber. It felt good, wonderful, and I spread my legs to get as much from it as I could. But no matter what I did, it just wasn’t enough. I needed
him
again.

After bringing myself to a pathetic peak, I stepped from the shower and marched my naked body over to the phone. I glanced at the card on the table to the right of the talk box, but I really didn’t need to. I had the numbers memorized. With my heart pounding, I picked up the receiver and dialed.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said the second he answered. My heart nearly fell out of my chest when I heard his voice. It was mesmerizing, captivating, sensual. I couldn’t speak. Why was this man leaving me speechless so much? “It’s okay,” he said to me like a father would say to his awestruck daughter, “My address is…” He rattled off directions on how to get to his place and somewhere during his instructions, I found my voice and the words flowed from me.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I stated.

“Make it ten,” he said and hung up.

Like a light I was off. I would be there in ten if I had to break every traffic law known to man or even get my crazy self killed. What was happening to me is what I wondered as my Christianity quickly faded into the background while the desires of my wicked flesh slowly eased into the foreground. My mind was changing, I could feel it, and I had no desire to fight that change. For once, just once, I wanted to be a bad girl. I wanted to know what it felt like to not be perfect, but instead to live out my imperfections. 

Even if it was just for a little while.

Taking no time to put on any clothes, I grabbed a black, knee length coat that tied around the waist and wrapped it around my still damp from the shower body. I pinned my curly locks up on top of my head with a few curls dangling precariously. I slid my tiny feet into my clear stilettos with the ankle strap and in less than a minute I was out of my house and in my car, on my way to get served.

Again.

He lived fifteen miles away from me and I drove like a bat out of hell as I did my best to lotion my body while maneuvering my Charger. The car was saturated with the smell of a sultry, musky scent. My hands were slippery and I was having trouble navigating my way through the streets of Washington D.C., but lo and behold I made it. I was at his house in nine minutes, right at dusk.

Exactly ten minutes after the call.