by Vera Roberts
Finesse
By
Vera Roberts
For BESM.
© 2020 Vera Roberts, All Rights Reserved
Smashwords edition
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Other Titles by Vera Roberts
The Breakaway Series:
Breakaway
Game Misconduct
Face-Off
Power Play
Scoring Chance
Love So Brand New
The D’Amato Brothers Series:
The Nanny
To Love and Obey (BDSM)
Where I Wanna Be
All I’ve Ever Wanted
Love
Nothing Even Matters
One More chance
War
D’Amato
Stay With Me
The Ellison Brothers Series:
Her Savior
Simply Complicated
Her Ocean
Watercolors
Her Soul
Sweet Nectar
The Feeling Some Type of Way Series:
Feeling Some Type of Way
Bad and Bougie
Not about That Life
The D’Amato Brothers/S&M Crossover (BDSM):
Anticipation
Yes, Master
I Need You
The Jackson and Liane Series:
Daddy’s Angel
Fire We Make
When Love Calls
The Scott & Mariana Serial (BDSM):
S&M
S&M II
Discipline
S&M III, Vol. I
S&M III, Vol. II
S&M IV, Part 1
S&M V
The Ex-Factor
Stronger Than Pride
Unravel Me
The State of Affairs Series:
State of affairs
Superpower
Standalone Novels:
I Knew You Were Trouble
Wait for Love
Soul Infinity Crew (under Maya Brooklyn)
Short stories:
Blow by Blow: Diary of a Call Girl #1
Blow by Blow: Diary of a Call Girl #2
Boo’d Up
Dear Diary
Gettin' It
H.E.R.
Hot Like Fire (Sweet and Clean Romance)
Quench My Desire
Stealing Home
The Train Ride (Free on Smashwords.com)
The Erotic Intoxication, Vol. I: Bad Girls
The Painter
Til Tomorrow
What About Us?
Table of Contents
Book I – Present
One
Two
Book II – Past
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Book III – Present
One
Two
Three
Bonus Scene
Blurb
Caught between choosing me and running his empire, I knew which way he would lean. He was the most powerful man in East Atlanta and I was his. He laced me up with the finest and I never had to ask for anything; it was just given to me.
With every corner on lock, my mind couldn’t ignore the destruction and devastation he’d caused even in his own family. My body yearned to have him and every lonely night was a reminder of what was.
He promised he would take care of me forever as long as I looked the other way. The other way, however, is harder to look at if blood splatters your feet.
I knew him as Cameron but the world knew him as Finesse.
Book I
Present
One
Funerals are not for the dead; they’re for the living to show off.
Every funeral I’ve been to it’s been one fashion show after another. From my uncles in their finest Stacy Adams to my aunties clutching their Tiffany pearls and designer black Gucci shades to the church ushers straight out of a beauty salon or a fresh fade.
You’ve been to one funeral, you’ve been to them all. They all have the same thing: a choir, a processional/viewing, somebody sharing great stories, somebody taking a bit too long and needs to hurry up and sit down. Somber music played. Joyful numbers people shout Hallelujah to.
Every funeral is the same except this one – my daddy’s.
It was just me and my daddy from since I was three. My mother, Lauren, decided motherhood and wifedom was just not for her so she bounced. I’ve seen my mother a handful times in the past 24 years of my life and each time I see her, she’s more unrecognizable than before.
It’s not necessarily her fault and I no longer have any ill will towards her. Daddy’s had plenty of girlfriends that have come and gone, but they’ve all left lasting impressions:
Keisha was the around the way girlfriend. She had her ears to the streets, but kept my daddy on his business. She taught me about puberty and boys. “Don’t trust them motherfuckers.” She’d always warned me. Lord knows I wished I listened to her.
Karen was the lone white woman Daddy brought home, but she could throw down in the kitchen. She could make anything from Asian, Latino, and even pretty damn good baked macaroni and cheese. She taught me how to cook. “A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she told me, “give him a good meal and he’ll hand over his wallet, baby.” It was sound advice.
Shanice was the biracial girlfriend who was a walking advertisement for every name brand out there. She taught me about fashion and makeup. “You can’t have a face beat to the gods and look like you just rolled out of bed, booboo.” She’s never had a hair out of place.
Those are the top three I remember. They’re all here with me. The other girlfriends never made it past the front door. I guess Daddy knew better than to bring them inside to meet me. I respect his game.
Now, I’m sitting in the front row of the church, pretending to listen to a preacher I really couldn’t care about as he delivers his sermon to a packed house. My daddy was a neighborhood man. He was everyone’s friend.
That happens when you have the best local coffee chain in town.
East Atlanta isn’t a small town, but it’s not a big city. It’s sizable. Not everyone knows everyone type of deal, but people know who the main players are. My daddy ran Fresh Espresso for the past ten years. No matter what time of day, everyone knew who he was.
He greeted college students cramming for a test. He served politicians hammering out bills and laws. He placated the bored housewives who gossiped about their Botoxed fremenies.
When it was Black History month, he served cups in black, red, and green. When it was pride month, the cups became a rainbow. When it was Latino Heritage Month, he hired local Mariachi bands to serenade the crowd on Friday evenings.
Daddy was everyone’s friend. A car accident turned him into a memory.
My lungs push out a sigh as I think about everything. Daddy always paid his bills on time. He was never late on anything. He had great credit, he was loved in the community, and he never ev
en so much had a parking ticket.
An asshole running away from the cops took my father’s life away before he had a chance to drink his own brewed cup.
It didn’t matter now. All I have were memories.
I sigh and listen to the gospel singer sing “Mary, Don’t You Weep” among shouts and “Praise God!” floating in the air. Most of the people in the church knew me since I was a baby. A lot of the faces were familiar, even if I couldn’t remember everyone’s names.
When it was time for the eulogy, I found the strength to get up and speak. I slowly walked to the podium with a round of applause from the church. The only daughter of everyone’s favorite uncle had something to say.
I stood high in my heels, took a sip of water, and cleared my throat. I adjusted the microphone, and was astounded to see the number of people before me. A few hundred maybe?
“Good morning,” I softly spoke into the microphone and the crowd replied. “Thank you all so much for coming to honor my daddy today. I might not know all of you but I’m sure over the years you might have been familiar with me.” I took another deep breath. “Everyone has told wonderful stories about my dad and how he went out of his way to help. And you know what? They were right.
“My father was the best daddy a girl could ever have. He taught me about boys, but he taught me how to work an espresso machine. He taught me about basketball, but he taught me how change a flat tire. He taught me about the value of a dollar and he taught me it was okay to splurge.
“He had his faults like most humans, but he was a great man. And I’m proud of him. I will say starting soon, I will take over Fresh Espresso café in honor of my father.” A rousing round of applause fills the church. “I can’t promise I’ll share stories about why the Temptations lineup with Dennis Edwards was better or why nobody makes a car like a deuce and a quarter anymore.” That garnered some laughs. “But I can promise to keep my father’s memory and spirit alive with some of the best darn coffee in town. Thank you for all of your love and support.”
As everyone stood up and cheered me, I locked eyes with a familiar face across the room. I could pick his ass up out of a lineup, blindfolded with one working, half-cocked eye. A year later, with not even a ‘Bye, Felicia!’ to me, my ex had the audacity to show up at my daddy’s funeral.
Worst yet, he came looking like he was fresh out of a runway. His olive skin was moisturized to the gods. His light beard was closely cropped to his face, with a full mustache. His dirty blond, messy bedhead completed his look.
His men were in dark-colored suits and matching shades, looking like a beefed-up version of Jodeci while he looked like their business manager. I knew how Finesse got down; he was the boss and his boys were his security.
I focused on his eyes; those deep brown eyes that could read what I wanted before I knew. My eyes moved down to those juicy, plump lips that used to suck the soul out of my pussy on a nightly basis. I didn’t have to imagine what was beneath his clothing because it was tattooed on my brain.
His long and thick cock made me scream for hours. I remember my favorite position was getting on top and riding him. He showed me how to do it. He guided me until I was comfortable. He never made fun of me or put me down. He encouraged me to take that dick and that I did.
Now my heart is angry while my thighs are anxious to spread apart for him. My fists, however, want to sock his ass one good time. I walked away from him with a clean break and he has the audacity to show up at my daddy’s funeral? How dare he.
Did y’all hear me? The audacity. This fool doesn’t realize that I’m Taylor Hendrix Gray, daughter of Lamont Gray, grandbaby of Cecil and Sharon Gray, and I’m not on his time or anyone else’s. Just like what Auntie Maxine has said, I’m reclaiming my time and I want no parts of him.
And of course, I’m totally lying through my teeth.
Two
Running a coffee shop is not as easy as I thought it would’ve been. Granted, I didn’t think it was easy to begin with, but after taking over Daddy’s shop, I didn’t realize how much work he’d put into it.
Three months later after the funeral and way after people forgot about who you are and the calls stop coming, I’ve been busy. I met with Daddy’s business managers and accountants. I also met with his other accountants he secretly hired to watch the first ones. I also met with the third ones he hired to watch the first and second ones.
What can I say? Daddy was a boss.
Daddy left his entire estate to me, much to the chagrin of his girlfriends and their spoiled-ass brats. I was shocked to receive the inheritance because while Daddy wasn’t poor, he didn’t flaunt.
This man carried no more than sixty dollars in his wallet at any given time and drove the same beat up Toyota Matrix for years, even when he could afford a Mercedes or a Bentley.
He lived modestly in a three-bedroom home. Other than sporting events, and hanging out with his friends, my daddy kept to himself. Of course, he had a ton of girlfriends, but none were ‘I’m about to marry you’ type.
So, to see his estate was worth one million dollars, let’s just say a bitch was in a state of shock. And I haven’t even touched the insurance payout, which was also very generous.
Low key, I don’t think Daddy ever wanted to get married again after the stunt my womb-holder pulled. He didn’t want to subject me or himself to that again and I can’t really blame him. I’ve seen my birth mother a total of ten times in my entire life and I can count each of those times.
I need to explain something about Laurie. She’s not a bad person. I can’t say a bad thing about her. Calling her mother is a stretch because let’s face it, she wasn’t one. She knew motherhood and being a wife wasn’t her calling.
The last time I heard anything about Laurie, she was on her ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ shit and traveling all over the world. Again, I can’t hate on her because she’s doing what she wants to do. I just wish she remembered she had a kid.
I have no time to cry over any of that. I have to get Fresh Espresso and its other shops up and running in the same way my Daddy did. He opened up the main shop, while his employees opened up the others. They all opened and closed at the same time and there was no favoritism between the stores.
Everyone had too much respect for Daddy to participate in the bullshit and he wouldn’t have any of it.
As I pull up the large roller shutter door and the bright sun hits my face just right. The sun only shines on our coffee shop before the others and I know it’s Daddy saying hello to me. I’m feeling blessed and inspired. Today is going to be a great day.
I turn on the stereo and the sounds of Maze featuring Frankie Beverly blare through the speakers. Grabbing several bags of different coffees, I brew them quickly before the workers arrive. It’s a small shop so only six of us are here.
My father didn’t want a lot of employees and loved the small town feel of his coffee shops. It’s why he was always the local favorite despite the national brands moving in. People wanted service with a touch of home. They didn’t want to be another number.
I go in the back and look over my appearance before I start work. My long hair is straightened in a tight Ariana Grande-esque ponytail. I’m wearing short shorts to show off my eating-too-much-brioche-bread-and-it-shows thick thighs and a complementary pink tank top.
My face has the natural look of makeup, though I’m secretly wearing a ton of it. Topping off my look are a few spritzes of lemongrass, lavender, and jojoba oil on beautiful black skin that is kissed by the sun and ancestors and not by a tanning salon.
As the scent lingers in the air, my body groans as I think of the scent and it reminds me of him.
“Excuse me!” A lady behind a booth calls out to us as we walk down the farmer’s market. “Do you want to try this? Free samples!”
He looked over at me and shrugged. “It’s free.”
“Well, you know I like free!” I almost skip over to her. She spritz some spray on my forearm and rubs it in.
“It’ll heal your spirit while brightening your mood.” Her voice is smoother than hot tea. “You won’t regret it.”
I bring my arm to my nose and sniff it. My mood is already relaxed and I barely took an inhale. He took my arm and sniffed it as well. “Two bottles.” He pulled out a twenty. “Thank you.”
That night, he rubbed the oil all over my body before he made love to me. His lips sucked on every piece of flesh until they landed on my pussy, where he savored it like a long-lost meal.
“You’re here much earlier than I thought you would be, Tay.” Hayley’s smoky voice booms through the doors and I snap out of my memory. I’m annoyed and relieved.
My best friend since birth, Hayley, is my second-in-command. She’s a light-skinned girl with a curious K-pop obsession and large curly hair. She also has a thing for clear Hello Kitty glasses despite she has perfect vision.
She’s been my ride or die since forever and I honestly don’t know what I would do without her.
“Coffee can’t make itself.” I reply as I start another pot. “How was your date last night, boo?”
“It was great. It was nice to go out without a kid attached to my hip,” she heads to the locker room and quickly puts an apron on. She’s wearing a tank top and blue jeans with her full tattoo sleeves showing. “I got a free meal and he got a BJ so it was a win-win for both of us.”
“You’re such a hustler, Hay.” I shake my head. All of these rappers keep talking about pimps and yet, here was my girl making it a science.
“I’m a hustler, baby.” She sings in her Pharrell voice. She went into the refrigerator and started taking out the cookie dough. “So, what’s new with you?”
“Nothing but the rent.” I reply as I prepare the coffee machines. “I officially inherited Daddy’s house but I don’t know if I want to stay in it. It might be too big for me.”
“Okay, Cat Lady.” Hayley shook her head and I flip her off. “You’ve been single for a year and you already assume you won’t be getting married.”
“It’s not so much being single for a year but I just don’t want to mess with men anymore.” Hayley’s eyebrows rose. “No, I’m not gay, neither. I am tired, though.”
“You keep dating the wrong ones, Pooh.” Hayley scooped up some dough and put it on the cookie sheet. “That’s your problem.”
