The Charade (15 page)

“Excuse me!” I said grabbing server’s attention.

“Yes?”

“Can we get two silver Patron* shots.”

“Fantastic.”

Tyson put his fist in his mouth and bit down on his fingers. He was done for.

“Two shots comin’ up.”

“Can you make those chilled, with salt, and with two limes, please?”

“I sure will.”

He shook his head and smirked. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

“I remember it being the other way around.”

Chapter 9

I lay on top of Tyson’s covers. His hands scattered up and down my body and my tongue explored every nook and cranny of his mouth.

Shots of tequila were how we met. And there we were, five years later, wasted off shots and making out in his bed. Only this time his sheets were a thousand thread count, his bed frame had an oak finish and the mattress was king-size. Far cry from the dingy futon in his dorm room.

How aggressive I had been shocked me. I always let the guy chase. I loved sex just as much as the next twenty something, but I felt physically different after the first night with Victor. I had been horny every day. Hornier than I ever been. My breasts felt full and my hips had more sway to them. My hormones were out of control. Sex danced in my mind twenty-four seven. Each night in the shower I massaged my clit to orgasm. Normally I’d take out my vibrator or rub my nipples until I fell asleep but it just couldn’t wait. I needed to get off. I felt like a teenager again. But at least back then I’d let a guy pursue me.

“Tyson,” I exhaled deeply. “Promise me you won’t get up and leave me afterwards.”

“What?” His eyebrows darted downwards. “Natasha, I want you with me, all night.” He brushed strands of hair from my right eye. “Besides, you’re at my place, silly.”

“You’re right. But you know what I mean.” His lips pecked mine. “I just don’t want this to be a one night thing.”

“It could never be that. We’re too close.” He guided his thumb against my cheek. “You’re not just some girl to me.” He mouth cracked slightly to form a smile. “You’re you. You’re my Tasha.”

He brought my head closer and devoured my mouth. Our tongues swirled in our mouths as much as doubt swirled in my mind.

I pulled back from his clutches, panting slightly. “I just don’t want things to get weird.” I cleared my throat. “I mean now we work together. It sort of changes things.”

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. “Some other guy.” A stream of hot air expelled from his lips.

“It’s not some other guy.” My voice cracked slightly. I rested my hand between the ripples of his six-pack. “I just…I want to take things slow. You know…do this right.”

“I understand. Trust me.” His deep voice vibrated my hand. “I know us coming back in each other’s lives after all these years brings back a lot of feelings.” He turned over again and faced me. “Taking things slow may be a good idea…even though my dick disagrees.” We both laugh and then he wrapped his arms around me. “I still want you to stay the night.”

“Me too.” My voice faded to a whisper.

We both drifted off to sleep in each other’s embrace – the way I wanted it to be.

***

My phone vibrated. I jumped and then my eyes flashed open. It buzzed again. The green glow from the clock on the desk read 2:10am. It buzzed again. The last time my phone rang that late at night was when my cousin Denise died.

It buzzed again. I looked over at Tyson and he was sound asleep.

I plopped my arm over to the side of the bed and reached in my purse. It was Victor. And his text read: Emergency.

Chapter 10

Waking up in bed on a Sunday morning to chocolate has to be every girl’s dream. But this particular morsel was different - he walked, talked, and breathed. His skin was the perfect embodiment of dark chocolate - a deep, rich shade of bronze. Delicious. Smooth. Lickable. I loved the way our skin contrasted next to each other’s.

My skin was pale, not even a hint of olive. His was an irresistible hue of dark brown. The kind you would see beneath the lid of a pint of chocolate ice cream. The kind you regretted buying because you could almost fill up your gas tank for the price, but by the time you got in your car you smiled because you knew in a few short moments a tiny piece of heaven would be dancing on your taste buds.

We complemented each other well. I was appalled at the fact he respected me for not wanting to rush into things and not have sex. I wanted to take things slow. Much slower than I did with Victor, whose texts in the middle of the night gnawed at me.

I felt ashamed for thinking about him while Tyson was in the kitchen, cooking what smelled like pancakes. I let out a monstrous yawn. Loud enough for him to hear me from the kitchen

“Are you hungry?” Tyson asked. His voice was like smoke. Those three syrupy words drizzled in my ears. He really didn’t want me to answer that question. I had been
hungry
for him since we reconnected. I was able to not give in to the temptation of straddling him and riding him until my body shrieked and gyrated.

“I
am
hungry,” I said, my throat raspy and in desperate need of anything wet: milk, coffee, water, or juice. As long as it wasn’t a bloody mary. A slight hangover clouded my head.

“I hope you like strawberries on your french toast,” Tyson said, extending the warm plate to me. A giddy expression crossed his face. It was a quarter after - whenever. It didn’t matter. The man took time out of his morning and cooked a meal – for me of all people. It made time stand still.

“You’re in luck. They’re my favorite topping,” I said, sliding a forkful between my lips. A drop of syrup fell from the fork onto my chin. “Oops,” I said chortling. I looked for a napkin on the bed. Tyson swiped the tiny, golden brown blob with his finger and slid it in his mouth. “Tasty?” I asked.

“Very.” Those almond-brown eyes traced every inch of my body, which was half clothed in a t-shirt he let me wear to sleep in.

“You know you didn’t have to do all of this, right?”

“Are you saying you don’t deserve it?”

I shot back, “Oh, not at all.” We shared a laugh. “I’m just saying I remember how lazy you used to be on Sunday mornings back at school. You never made it to breakfast with me and the girls. I asked you to meet me in the cafeteria every Sunday and you never showed. Not once.”

“Are you sure we went to the same school? Don’t act like you didn’t go to the same parties and didn’t drank as much as I did.”

“I remember. I just needed my breakfast. I still do. You know how I can get if I don’t have anything to eat before noon.”

“Why do you think I had all this food ready by the time you woke up?” I playfully smacked his thigh.

“Always the smartass.”

“Am I lying, though?”

“It’s scary how well you know me. And after all this time, too.”

“You never left my mind for one second.”

“Do have all this charming talk written down somewhere? How do you know to say all the right words?”

“It’s easy when you have the right person to say it to.”

“There you go again.”

“What?”

“That…charm.”

“I was born like this, sweetheart. The talent is God given.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Absolutely.” He swiped a strawberry off my plate. “You stick around and you might be able to catch another glimpse.”

I finished cleaning my plate as Tyson cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen and then hopped in the shower. I couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of having a guy like him in my life. The one who got away was back. I wasn’t letting him get away.

My phone buzzed again. I grabbed it and powered the phone off. I didn’t bother to look at who called, but I knew who it was.

I nuzzled up on the bed for a bit of an after breakfast nap. Tyson, only wearing black boxer-briefs, slid on the bed next to me, his body was tender and warm from the shower. I curled into the contours of his body.

His bare arms slung around me. I felt secure.

“What are you thinking about? Besides me?” he asked tapping my thigh.

“I’m thinking about if I should check into a hospital after eating that french toast. I might be spending the rest of the day throwing up.”

His eyes lit up like a kid being tapped on the head in duck-duck-goose. He grabbed me, wrestling me onto my back, giggling the entire time. “Oh you got jokes, huh?” He mounted me – there was nowhere for me to go. Getting up from under a hulking mass of a man would not be an easy task. His face filled with delight as his fingers flickered up and down my skin. Gut busting laughter expelled from both of our mouths. I was in tears from the playful roughhousing.

“If I can remember correctly,” he said as his fingers played a piano up and down my stomach, “you’re ticklish behind your ear.”

I shut my lips and my eyes bugled. I shook my head furiously. “You’re really not a great liar.” He didn’t know the half of it. I was – just not when it came to tickling. He tickled me into frenzy, my limbs flailed and flapped all around. I tried to grab a hold of his wrists to stop him before I peed on myself, but he was too strong. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them behind my head. He halted and our eyes locked. “You’re so beautiful.” He bent over and kissed me deeply.

I stared bottomlessly into his mocha-tinted eyes and desire overtook me. Desire to have him. Desire to let him have me. Have me any way he wanted. Any way I didn’t want. On my back. On my stomach. From behind. I didn’t care about the aftermath, I wanted the now.

Even though I told him I wanted to wait, I couldn’t wait any longer.

A deep gasp expelled from my lungs before his tongue invaded my mouth again, caressing my lips and gently grazing my freckled nose. His fleshy tongue swirled between my jaw, tasting every crevice of his luscious mouth, making heat rise between my waiting thighs. His lips pecked from the side of my mouth, to my soft jawline, sucking nibbling, zigzagging kisses over to my earlobe. He flicked his sweltering tongue against the outside of my ear, then gently bit my lobe making me arch my neck in pleasure. He giggled and raked his powerful hand through my hair which was strayed out against the brown, silk pillow. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, taking my in scent, intoxicating himself from the fervor which spilled from my pores.

“Are you sure, babe?” I pulled his neck towards my face and our lips crashed to into each other’s. My palm crushed into the tiny, prickly hairs, which stood straight up on the back of his neck. He was nervous. I planted my hand on his chest. The words
Black Superman
sprawled over his heart. I slowly rubbed my index finger across the ink, circling each cursive-written letter with my fingertip.  His heart raced, his pectoral muscled bulged mightily.

“Are you nervous?” I asked, encircling my finger around his tightened nipped. My circling altered to pinching and flicking, making him bite his lip harder and harder; his breaths shorter and restricted.

“I’m not nervous. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” He pushed a curl behind my ear, meshed his wet lips upon it and blew a tiny, cool stream of air into it. His voice lessened to a whisper. “So fucking long, baby.” He removed his boxer-briefs. He clutched my wrist and ran my hand down his rippled stomach to his shaft; it was granite hard. I clutched his glorious root, feeling every pleat, every distended vein, his tender head leaked fluid.

“So. Fucking. Long,” I repeated. I massaged his head with my thumb, coating it with his stickiness. I stuck my thumb in my mouth and let my tongue swirl around it, tasting his sweet nectar, savoring every morsel, letting it drizzle down my throat.

His glistening, pouty lips descended down to my chest, my mind anticipating, begging him to feast on my soft, pink nipples. I bucked my mountainous peaks at him. He obliged my request. He reached underneath me and pulled off my shirt and hurled it behind him, knocking a wall candle down to the floor.

I lay there, bare, like a dew-covered tulip petal on the damp soil of a bountiful garden. His aggressively strong hands cupped my sensitive, ample cleavage, rousing my ripe, silken thighs into a fit of trembling and twisting, shaking and shivering. A ravenous, sensual shriek dashed from out of my lungs as his muscular hands kneaded and reshaped my breasts.

As if I couldn’t feel more tantalized, he burrowed his mouth on to my swollen, rose-tipped nipple, first flicking it with his sweltering tongue, then sucking it slightly, then blowing it. My back jerked upwards from the sinful combination of the contrasting hot and chilly sensation.

I laughed daintily under his touch.

The giggling soon ceased as his lips enveloped my taut, flushed nub. His other hand massaged my other jiggling peak, twisting and pinching it. A flood of wetness surged from between my legs. He released me and while one hand cupped my breast and sucked and plucked with his teeth, his other hand traveled beneath me, grabbing my ripe ass. He slowly caressed it, moving over to the crease where my thigh and torso met, tickling it with his fingertips like keys on a grand piano.

Tyson’s hypnotic lips continued to take my body to new heights as his long, brown fingers toyed up and down the outside of my naked thigh. His palm on my knee and forced my leg back and up in the air, jolting me. I spread my right leg eagle at his command.

He looked into my trembling gaze and planted his hand over my desperate, hot slit. His fingers bathed in my wetness. His thumb and forefinger smoothed over my drenched pussy, blossoming my bulging clitoris.

He slid one slender digit into my deep, slick cavern. I squirmed under his wanton touch, grabbing the sheets, nearly ripping them with my jagged nails. Then he forced two into me, gliding into me ever so slowly, while he continued to sink his teeth onto the flushed flesh of my nipple.

Tyson’s fingers swirled through me, making my torso twist and my neck contort violently. My eyes were chained shut, my mouth half open and dry as cotton from the ecstasy, my nostrils inhaling the masculine, oak scent exuding from his presence.

He sped up the pace of his finger and my pussy bucked to match his rhythm.

My heart thundered out my chest. I looked down at him and his entire hand was downpoured with my wetness. He lifted up and brought his lips from my breasts to meet my mouth. I wrapped my fingers around the back of his head and fiercely forced him to devour my wanting mouth.

The sizzling embrace of his tongue muffled my moan. I could take no more. “I want you.” I didn’t have enough air in my lungs to speak words with more than one syllable.

He rose up and licked his lips. He reached under the pillow and pulled out a black, matted plastic wrapper. It was marked XL. He tore the top off and rolled the muted-yellow latex down his shaft.

His tight frame mounted my tender body, juddering with frantic electricity. My legs wrapped around the back of his knees and my fingernails sunk into the flexed muscles of his upper back, I needed to feel every inch of my skin against mine.

His heart beat with a ferocity and so did mine.

Looking into each other’s eyes, I grabbed his erectness and plunged it deeply into my wet snatch.

Simultaneously, we exhaled an earthy, vulgar groan. Tyson wrapped his arms around me, surrounding me in a wickedly firm embrace. He penetrated my enflamed walls deeper, pumping his tight ass, developed from hours in the gym, spiking through me, trying to reach the depths of me.

A burst of searing pleasure escaped my mouth. Tyson moved his hand down and gripped my waist; I writhed from the immense gratification, mixed with a tinge of pain. The faint smell of arousal hissed above our fray, like some exotic cologne, intoxicating me further into our tryst. I glanced at the mirror in the corner and caught Tyson’s face, eyes wired shut, face covered in a spell of bliss as he slowly stroked his wood into me, each measured blow making me cry out for more. “Tyson,” I yelped.

The contours of my pussy curved to meet every inch of his friction as he escalated his delicious motion of slow stroking to a venomous spear. My cunt, massaging his cock to and fro, caromed each thrust. My body seized and I arched my back, burying my slick stomach against his. We were both coated with a sheen of warm perspiration.

My cry grew to a violent moan.

So did his.

He kissed me as he pillaged his cock further into me, spearing my tender entrance, filling my quivering bones with unimaginable desire. He shifted his body, lifting up slightly, planting his palm onto the bed and yanked my hair into his fist. The king-size bed shook ravenously. The frame, surely to shatter from our violent gyrating squeaked in pain.

My pussy tightened and swelled around his cock, assaulting me as I quivered viciously. Our cries reached the top of our lungs.

He thrusted. I bucked, matching his tempo. He pumped. I rattled. I reached the point of no return.