Man Swappers (28 page)

I step into my Nikes, humming along to Jaguar as she sings the shit out of this song.
I don’t understand...how I can I tell you what it takes to make me happy...and for some reason whyyyy... you only seem to do what makes me crazy....

Persia walks in, wearing a pair of pink short-shorts and a white tank top. Her dark nipples are showing through her shirt. “You off to the gym?”

“No, the park,” I tell her, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. I turn the music down, then walk over and pick up my cell. The flashing red light alerts me that I have new messages or missed calls. “You should run with me,” I say as I scroll through my phone. I have four text messages.

“No thanks, boo. I’ll save my running for the treadmill downstairs.” We have a customized state-of-the-art gym in our basement that we use regularly; still it’s nice to get out and run in the breeze.

“Mmmph. Suit yourself. It’s a gorgeous day out. You never know who we might
run
into while we’re out running in the park. Oh, Irwin sent me a text. He’ll be in town this Saturday. He wants to know if we’re still on.”

“Of course,” she says, patting between her legs. “Momma could use a good feeding. Tell him to make sure he pops a Viagra and a Cialis mix so he’s extra hard and ready to knock this pussy out the frame.”

I laugh, texting him to let him know we’re still on. “Girl, you’re a damn mess. You’re trying to send that man to the ER. You know that shit would have his dick about to explode. Shit, it might break off.”

She laughs. “Yeah, hopefully, right into my pussy.”

I laugh with her. “Girl, your ass is crazy. Have you talked to Paris today? I tried calling her and sent her a text earlier, but haven’t heard back from her.”

“No, I haven’t spoken to her. Hmmm. Come to think of it, she’s been M-I-A lately. Whenever I call or text her, she takes forever to get back to me. That’s not like her.”

I’ve noticed it, too, but don’t mention it. “Maybe it’s been hectic down at the boutique.”

“Yeah, but the store closes at six. Sometimes I’ll send her text
around seven or eight and it takes her almost an hour or more to respond back.”

I shrug. She means well, but sometimes Persia forgets we don’t have to answer to her. That she’s not our mother. “Paris is a big girl. I’m sure she has her reasons for not responding back as quickly as
you’d
like. Fact is, she’s a grown woman.”

She frowns. “Well, shoot me for caring,” she says, sounding offended. “I realize she’s grown. And she doesn’t have to answer to me. Still, I worry. We’re all we’ve got. We have to always look out for each other.”

“And we do. But you don’t have to always think the worst when one of us doesn’t text or call you
right
back. I don’t mean to sound messy, but we have lives outside of you.”

She huffs, putting her hands up on her hips. “Oh, and I don’t?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, sounds like you’re implying it. I’ve never said or thought the two of you didn’t have a life outside of me. All I’m saying is, I worry; that’s it. And having the decency to let someone know you’re not coming home is about common courtesy.”

And trying to control us
, I think, knowing she’ll never admit it. I decide I’ve had enough of this conversation. “Paris and I recognize how much you worry about us. And we appreciate you for that, sis.” I walk over and give her a hug. She hugs me back. “I don’t wanna fight with you. But I’ll beat your ass if need be.”

She laughs. “Yeah, right. You wish.”

“Well, let me get out of here so I can get to the park. These beads are already working my pussy muscles overtime and I haven’t even started my run yet.” She laughs, reaching between her legs and pulling at the opening of her shorts. She shows me the string dangling from her slit. I frown, grabbing my iPod. “Ugh! Hooker, TMI.”

She laughs. “Oh, but it wasn’t too much information for you to tell me about the beads in your pussy.”

“But I didn’t show you my snatch, did I? Big difference, nasty ass.” She follows me out the room, then down the stairs.

“Whatever. It’s not like you haven’t seen it many times before.”

I grab my keys, then walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of Dasani out of the ’fridge. “Yeah, don’t remind me. That ugly thing gives me nightmares. I swear I think it has teeth.”

She laughs, playfully swatting at me. “Yeah, right. You wish. I have a pretty pussy, boo. Don’t hate.”

“Lies,” I say, laughing as I head toward the door. “I’ll see your freaky ass later.”

“Takes a freak to know one, boo,” she says, closing the door behind me. I wave her on, dismissively, disarming my car. I slide in, start the engine, then drive off.

An hour and a half later, I’m heading home when my music fades and my cell rings through the speakers. It’s Emerson. I grin as I answer. “Hello.”

“Hey, beautiful. How you?”

“I’m good. What’s up with you?”

“Chillin’; thinking about you.”

I smile. “That’s sweet of you.”

“What you got planned for the day? I was hoping we could catch a movie and grab a bite to eat later on.”

I blink. Outside of meeting him a few times at the Sheraton, going out in public isn’t something we’ve done thus far. Fucking him behind closed doors is how I’ve wanted to keep things between us—for now. At least, until I can figure out what I want. However, I thought keeping this thing between us under wraps is what we both agreed on. “I can’t,” I tell him. “How about we meet up at your place later on tonight instead?”

He sighs. “Yo, c’mon, Porsha. How long we gonna sneak around? It’s been weeks. Don’t you think it’s time we step this up a notch?”

“Em, you told me we could move at my pace. That you wouldn’t pressure me. You do remember saying that, no?”

“Yeah, I said it. But, damn...”

“Look, if you’re having second thoughts, then maybe we should stop now before things get too serious.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sounding frustrated. Truth is, I don’t know what I want. The more time I spend with Emerson, the more attracted I am to him. He’s a damn good man.
Yeah, and he’s fucked my sisters and me
. “Look,” he says, not waiting for me to answer the question. “I wanna spend time with you out and about during the day. Not holed up in a hotel or my spot, ordering take out all the time. And not at night. You’re a beautiful woman. And I wanna do things with you. Go out. Take day trips into the city, or weekend drives down to the Baltimore Harbor. I wanna chill with you. Damn, is that too much to ask?”

“No,” I state, turning into my development.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m not ready. I’m still trying to figure things out. Still trying to come to terms with potentially getting involved with a man I’ve shared with my sisters.”

“I told you, I’m cool with it. I mean, it’s nothing we can do about it now. It happened. If you’re worried that I might wanna get it in with ’em again, don’t be. The only woman I’m interested in is you.”

I pull into my driveway and park behind Persia’s car, turning my engine off. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it? Persia? You think she’s gonna be pissed that you’re giving into your own feelings for a change, and doing something you want to do for yourself?”

I frown. “How dare you? I’ll have you know, I run my own life. Persia doesn’t control shit, I do.”
But she tries
, I think, looking up at the second floor of our home. Persia’s curtain moves. She’s stepped away from the window. “I’m my own woman. The fact is, Em, I’m not ready; period. Now if that’s too much for you to deal with, then let’s end this now.” I’m not sure if it’s the fact that he
knows
I’m concerned about how Persia’s going to react to the news that has me so pissed at him right now, or if it’s the fact that I
am
letting her control aspects of my life, indirectly.

“C’mon, Porsha, let’s not do this. I don’t wanna turn this into a fight. All I’m sayin’ is sometimes you gotta take some risks. I know what I want. I just want you to know what it is you want, too. All I’m askin’ is for you to give us a chance. That’s all.”

I glance back up at Persia’s bedroom window. I see her shadow again. I sigh. “I don’t wanna fight with you, either.”

“Cool. I tell you what. How ’bout we do this: I have a timeshare I need to use the last week in June. How about you fly out to Curacao with me? Let’s spend the week together. And see how things go. If you’re still not sure about what you wanna do, I’ll bow out gracefully and let you do you.”

“Em—”

“Before you say no, think about it. In the meantime, I wanna see you tonight. Sounds like you could use a nice, relaxing, full-body massage. Come through and let my hands make love to your body.”

I smile. “I’ll be there at eight.”

“Aiight, see you then.”

I disconnect the call, then step out of the car, shutting the door behind me. I activate the alarm, making my way inside the house. As soon as I reach for the handle, the door swings open.

“Girl, I didn’t know what was going on. You were sitting out
in that car for a long-ass time. Is everything alright? I thought I was going to have to call nine-one-one.”

Persia steps back, lets me in. “Everything’s fine. I was finishing up a phone call.”

“Well,” she says, following me up the stairs. “It must’ve been some call for you to stay out in the car all that time.”

“It was,” I say, walking into my bedroom, then stepping out of my sneakers.

I feel her eyes burning a hole through me. I turn to face her. Tilt my head. “What?”

She narrows her eyes. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

“Nope,” I tell her, removing my workout gear. I walk into my bathroom—naked, turn on the shower, adjust the setting, then step in.

“Well, how was your run?” she asks, walking into the bathroom, leaning up against the sink.

What are you afraid of? Persia?
“It was good.”

“You sure everything’s okay? You seem kind of distant.”

Sometimes you gotta take risks
. “Everything’s fine. I’m tired. That run wore me out. I’m going to take a long nap when I get finished in here.”
You’re a beautiful woman...I know what I want...
I toss my head back, let the water beat against my face and neck. Pretend Persia is no longer leaning up against the sink, staring at me. I close my eyes.
Let my hands make love to your body...

When I’m finished with my shower, I step out into my room, wrapping a towel around me. Persia’s lying across my bed, waiting. “You wanna order in later? Or go out and grab something to eat?”

I fish my phone out of my bag. “Ummm, not tonight.” I text: I’
LL BE THERE
@ 6

“I have plans,” I tell her, slipping on a pair of silk boxer shorts.
I let my titties bounce free, pull back my comforter, slipping in between my 1500-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

I fake a yawn. Right now, I want to be alone.
All I’m askin’ is for you to give us a chance.

“Okay, girl. Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” Persia says, getting off my bed and walking toward the door. “We’ll talk later.”

“Okay,” I say, pulling the covers up over my head.
The only woman I’m interested in is you.
I close my eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Passion
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

E
merson pulls his dick out of my smoldering cunt, slaps my clit with it, then slowly slides it back in—deep. He thrusts a few times, grinds his pelvis against mine, then pulls out again, beating his dick against my clit and slit. I moan. Hoist my hips up in an exchange, my pussy for his dick. He taunts me. Slips the head back in, slowly whines it in. Tip fucks me, then pulls it out. He has my hands pinned back on the bed. I jut my hips upward.

“Damn, baby…you’re so beautiful…” He stares into my eyes. His intense gaze penetrates my soul. He looks into me, raw and naked and vulnerable. He plants gentle kisses all over me—the tip of my nose, my eyelids, my chin, my neck, my breasts. His kisses go on and on, covering every inch of my flesh. “You’re so damn beautiful, baby,” he says, again, pushing his dick back into my well. I gasp. He slow fucks me for another ten minutes, while tonguing me. Gets my pussy swish-swishing; my juices splattering against his cock, then abandons my mouth. His tongue travels along my skin, flicks along the side of my neck. He kisses my collarbone. His hands cup my ass as he loses his dick inside of me. Tendrils of arousal gather in the pit of my pussy, then burst into colorful orgasms, coiling around my clitoris. I don’t know how much more of this man I can take before I fall for him, hard.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad, baby…I wanna get lost in this pussy…I wanna own this pussy…” His dick hits my spot and I feel lightheaded.

“Mmmm…oooooooooooh…”

“Open up, baby…let me in…” He hits the bottom of my abyss. “Give me all of this good pussy…give me all of your heart…” His dick swells, brushes against my walls, causing my muscles to constrict and expand. I moan again. “Let me in, baby…Ohh, shit, you feel so good…Let me have you, Porsh…”

“Uhhh…you have me,” I say soft and sweet. Not sure if what’s come out of my mouth is said in the heat of the moment, or if it’s what I mean. He hits my spot again. My eyes roll in the back of my head. “Ohhhhh, Em…mmmm…what are you tryna do to me?”

“Make love to you,” he whispers, slipping his tongue in my ear, then nibbling on my lobe again. I shiver. Yet we are in front of his fireplace, sweating and panting. The glow from the fire, its flames dancing about the room, adds to the intense heat emitted between my legs. “I could make love to you forever…I love you, Porsh…”

It is in those three words that my emotions collide. Fear, excitement, lust, and desire all connect, then explode into petals of joy. In my heart, I believe, I feel, I know, Emerson is a good man. He’s a man worth loving, and being loved by. Still, we say things in the moment. Things we don’t always mean. I won’t, can’t allow words spoken but not meant, to have value in my life.