Always Wrong

by Xyla Turner

  I must have.

  “Well, yeah,” I owned it. “What if it doesn’t?”

  “We had an agreement, Sheryl.” Jacquez was seething, and that was a quick burn. “You and I agreed. Gave each other a verbal agreement even though I put everything in writing for you. We can check the contract that neither of us signed, because we said we’d give each other our words. So are you not a woman of your word, Sheryl? Do you not honor your verbal contracts?”

  Wait.

  “None of this has anything to do with meeting your mother,” I snapped. “Don’t turn this on me.”

  “When I say you’re going to be the mother of my child, it does.”

  “Fine, Jacquez, so how will those introductions go? Hi, Mom, meet the future mother of my child. We’re going to have a baby and she’s ovulating this weekend.”

  Silence met me on the other line, but I was not about to meet his mother, and I didn’t care what he said about the verbal agreement. That made no sense to me.

  After more moments of silence, I called, “Hello.”

  “Note this, Sheryl,” he said slowly. “This weekend, I am going to tan your ass. Then when you’re sitting at my mom’s house, you’ll remember this conversation.”

  This caused me to laugh, not out of something being funny, but part nerves and the other part anxious and knowing that what he said was true.

  “Talk, talk, talk…” I taunted.

  “Keep talking, princess. You’re making me hard, because I can see how you respond to my punishments. How you cum when I say so. How responsive your body is. Fuck,” he hissed. “I’ve got to sod off to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Jacquez. Goodbye,” I told him.

  “It’s not goodbye, it’s goodnight.”

  Then the line went dead.

  Now, hold up.

  Hold the fuck up.

  There were some things that I could tolerate and then there were some that I could—no…would not.

  Chapter Eight

  Jacquez Costa

  If I were bloody honest, the woman had been on my mind all day. I kept seeing her open mouth as she came, those sexy lips as they wrapped around my fingers and then my cock. The bounce of her breasts when I slapped them or those nipples when they puckered after I bit each one. Her swollen pussy because I wore her out those three days and the curve of her delectable ass as I watched the blood rush to where I spanked it.

  Yeah, no work was done. No sleep came and neither did rest. She was all consuming, and then she was acting like it was nothing. It was something, even if…well. There were no ifs. She would be the mother of my child, and that was it. That didn’t stop me from wanting to talk to her. Get to know her. What she liked and disliked. Since we would co-habitate, I had to get to know the real Sheryl. The problem was, she was like a scared jackrabbit. Always ready to run on the ready. I’d had to chase her arse down from London to the wedding after she dropped the beans and fled. Now, after all three days of us bonding, she was still pulling away. Therefore, the best way I knew how to keep her on the hook was by demanding that it be so. For the most part, she responded to that well. It was only after I hung up the phone that I thought differently.

  Late the next morning, after my meeting, I called, and she did not answer the phone. I called four times until I was ready for bed, and then left a message.

  “I told you to answer the phone,” I said then I hung up.

  The problem with this setup was that she was in Philadelphia, and I was in London. Bloody London. All fucking week, I called her three times a day and she did not answer. And every single day, I grew madder and madder. Then I grew calm. Friday, I hopped on my jet, with a calm that I had to tap in to. Noah was not back from his honeymoon, so I could not pester him, therefore, I did what he did. Went to the States to confront her arse.

  It didn’t take long to find out just how big and powerful Sheryl South was. All one had to do was Google search her and boom: There were her professional photos, accomplishments, accolades, videos of her speaking and other ventures she had invested in.

  Sheryl South was thee woman, and that made me even more honored to be a partner with her. I did not take her and who she was for granted, but I did wonder if the two of us would be able to do this. For her to be where she was, she had to be tough as nails. I did not shy away from tough women, but sometimes they didn’t know when to submit. We both couldn’t have on a pair of pants. And I was never for sucking a man’s balls. That just was not for me and especially if those balls were on a woman. Usually strong, independent types have a hard time yielding. They think it makes them weak, when it was the opposite in my book. A woman yielding to a man is the ultimate surrender. Shit, quiet as it’s kept, it’s the humblest thing, because it actually means a man has yielded his life to the woman. It’s no longer a decision of what will I eat for dinner, but what will we eat. It’s not about where I will live, but where will we live. It’s all about the we, because there is someone that has yielded to me.

  This is the shit that I was going to make Sheryl understand—after I tanned her arse.

  Friday, I was off, so by the time I got to Philadelphia, it was eleven in the morning. It took me an hour to get to Sheryl’s place of work, and her secretary seemed quite surprised to have an unexpected appointment for Ms. South. She tried to give me the run-around, to make an appointment, so I quietly sat down and told her I would wait for Ms. South until she was finished.

  “But that could be hours,” she shot back.

  “I’ll wait.” I stared at her.

  The anger had long gone, now there was a resolute resolve that Sheryl would yield because I would not take no for an answer. And if she wanted to muck it up, then she would bloody do it to my face.

  I swear, this shit reminded me of Noah and all the times he’d needed to go to Philadelphia to settle something with Maxine. I thought he was a crazy fool. Thought the woman was playing him, but now, even for the potential mother of my child, I saw. She and I wouldn’t be married or anything like that, but my friend was sure at his honeymoon with his wife. Just like I planned to be in our home with our son in less than two years.

  After the secretary walked into what I presumed was Ms. South’s office and returned five minutes later, she looked nervous. I waited for an hour, then two. Another hour. And then I used the restroom quickly and returned to my seat and continued to patiently wait.

  After four hours, Sheryl emerged, opened both double doors, and called out, “Mr. Costa, please come in.”

  Oh, her arse was going to get it.

  Slowly standing, I pulled my leather carry-on bag with me and proceeded to close the double doors behind me after entering her office.

  “You can keep them open,” she called from near her desk.

  “I don’t think you want this conversation to be broadcast throughout your company,” I said with a half-turn and remained there until she consented.

  After closing the door, I went to go sit down. Not to the chair, where she wanted to me to sit like I was her client.

  No.

  I rounded her desk and folded one leg on the top as I leaned again the edge of it, directly to her left.

  “Jacquez,” she scoffed, but I just stared at her. “What are you doing? Can you go and have a seat so we can talk like civil human beings? As a matter of fact, what are you doing here?”

  I continued to stare and said nothing. Sheryl tried to roll her executive chair back, but I stopped it with my hand and pulled her back into the opening, where her body fit. She was going nowhere.

  “You did it again,” I finally told her. “You’ve tried to ghost me again.”

  Her chin lifted in that subtle defiance, then she looked away from me.

  “Sheryl,” I called. “Why?”

  It took a while for her to actually answer me, but I had nothing but time, so I waited.

  “I don’t do the whole hanging up on me. It’s a problem, and I don’t like it.”

  She turned
to glare. “You hung up on me, and it’s a hard no. So if you want to abruptly dismiss me, then you don’t deserve to speak to me. Period.”

  Hang up on her?

  Dismiss her?

  “You thought me hanging up was a dismissal?” I asked the angry woman.

  “Absolutely,” she replied. “I did not get to say anything back, and the line went dead. I don’t play those games. I get you’re all manly, strong, and an alpha asshole. I can handle that to a certain extent, but dismissing me like I’m some option or side won’t work, and I’m okay with breaking our verbal agreement for that.”

  What the fuck?

  “Wait?” I tried to surmise. “You’re willing to throw away what we’ve started because I hung up the phone on you?”

  Those brown eyes burned into mine as she nodded an emphatic yes.

  “I think you’re looking for any reason to end this,” I told her honestly. “I’m not diminishing your feelings, but you are old enough to know that you need to communicate if I am doing or have done something that you do not like. We’re not bloody kids, South. We’re talking about bringing a child into this world together. I don’t take that lightly, and honestly, I’m a little pissed that you’ve decided, alone, by the way, to take this stance without speaking to me. You know the other party in this agreement. It’s an ultimatum. Well, fine then. I reject your ultimatum. We had an agreement, you’re ovulating and my cock”—I patted my thigh, the one exposed to her, so she could see the outline of my hardened dick lying there, mid-way down my leg. “Has been hard for you, nearly all fucking week. You’re pissed that I hung up, but I was trying to calm my ass down, since I was at work and thinking of you in that way was making me like this. I had a meeting to go to and needed to get you out of my head. I wanted to talk to you later so I could put you to sleep as you rubbed that wet clit of yours to my voice. Now I’ve had to wait all week and four hours just to see you and let you know. I reject your proposal. You’re ovulating this weekend, and I cannot wait for you to bounce on my cock so I can fill you up with this load that’s waiting just for you. We can conceive our son, and then move forward with our original plans, South. I’m not fucking around with you. Do you hear me?”

  Her eyes continued to stare at my thigh until I guided her chin to look at my face.

  “Am I clear?”

  Her head nodded.

  Fuck, she was exquisite. I loved how this woman just became so docile once I touched her. It made me so bloody heady with thoughts that I couldn’t think straight.

  “You might want to send your secretary home,” I said as I quickly stood up and pulled her chair back.

  Extending my hand for her to take, I lifted her out of her seat and pushed into her front with mine so I could take those lips in the kiss I’d been craving.

  Pulling back, I murmured, “Turn around.”

  The tight suit she was wrapped in was form fitting and displaying her curvy ass. I unzipped the skirt, pulled off the jacket, and lifted the camisole so I could see my treasure once again.

  Sexy as fuck, she was.

  “Don’t forget that secretary,” I said right before I slapped her arse.

  “Fuck,” she yelped and grabbed the phone, while hitting a button.

  “Tammy, take off the rest of the day, okay….thanks.” Then she almost slammed it down.

  “Jacquez, people are still working here,” she turned to share.

  “That’s fine. That was only a preview of what you can expect to get when I get you home,” I told her as I squeezed her arse and then began to unbutton my trousers.

  A small sigh escaped her as I rubbed her ass. Damn, she was exquisite. Her brown ass was nice and round, like two balloons made to fit my cock between them. Fuck. I didn’t want to cum early, but I would not be able to handle this like I needed to. She was irresistible.

  “So don’t hang up on you is your boundary?” I tried to psych myself out of releasing early. Putting her request back on the table, even though it was bullshit.

  “Correct,” she mumbled as I knelt behind her and buried my face in between her ass cheeks.

  She was so warm and smelled like whatever flowery bodywash she used. My cock twitched with the hit of her scent, but I pressed on and began to lick my way down to her clit so I could suck on it. With each swipe, I knew that I wouldn’t let her go even if she wanted to. If she said she no longer wanted a child with me, I still would come back for this. Shit, we could be strictly sexual partners or something. She was so good.

  A moan escaped her voice, and I slapped her arse, just to remind her that she had employees present. Once she came on my lips, I stood, unzipped my pants, and slid inside of my tight treasure.

  FUCK it all to hell.

  She was so bloody wet. Yeah, she was going nowhere. She was pissed because I’d hung up the phone. It was bullshit, and we both knew it. The two of us still had to learn each other, for example. I would call her bullshit, bullshit. She needed to know that. I would hop on a plane to make sure she got my message.

  I slammed into her again and again as I continued to count all of the things she needed to know. This is what they called hate sex or makeup sex. Hard fucking with the intent to sexually and emotionally provide healing and a gotdamn release.

  This one took it like a fucking champ. Every slap, hit, and push into her hot cunt had me about to lose myself at any moment. Yet she still met me halfway, and this only spurred me on.

  When it was too late to tell her to stop, before I spilled my seed, I felt that bolt hit the back of my neck, and I came hard as fuck.

  “Bloody hell,” I sighed as I fell on top of her. Moving her hair out of the way, I pressed my lips against her glistening neck from our activities, then I whispered, “There’s more where that came from.”

  As I pulled out, I slapped her arse and finished by stating, “That’s for keeping me waiting.”

  Sheryl burst out laughing as she stood and pulled baby wipes out of her desk drawer. There was a smile on my face as she handed me the moist tissues. We cleaned up, disposed of the trash, and re-dressed in silence.

  Once we were back to our composed selves and facing each other with that freshly fucked look, Sheryl broke the silence and said, “So I take it you’re staying at my place.”

  “Affirmative,” I replied, daring her to go against it.

  Finally looking around her office, I thought it was interesting that we had the same sort of taste. Her office was sleek, chrome accessories, dark cherry wood furniture, leather seating, and plush carpet with a view to die for. From there, you could see the whole of the city.

  “This is a bloody view,” I found myself saying.

  “Yes, I love it.” She turned to linger at the imagery. “Well, where are you taking me to dinner?”

  “Worked up an appetite, huh?”

  She rubbed her arse, grabbed the waiting purse on the desk, and laughed while saying, “Something like that.”

  This had me laughing again, which seemed to be long overdue. Women never made me laugh. They made me cum, but not laugh.

  For what it was worth, I had planned to take her out to dinner anyway. We went to another exclusive place that I’d reserved earlier in the week. Once again, she was surprised that I was able to get in because of the waiting list.

  “There are some perks to this, huh?” She grabbed the wine menu, then put it back down. “Well, I guess that’s out.”

  “You should be good tonight. I read that if you think you’re pregnant, you shouldn’t partake in alcohol. You have until tomorrow, so drink up.”

  With a chuckle, she picked it back up and then proceeded to select what she wanted to drink. After we placed our order, I turned and asked, “Tell me the story about being hung up on.”

  Sheryl’s eyes sharpened as she focused on me before she answered, “Why?”

  Hmm.

  That was a nerve.

  “It triggered you,” I stated. “To the point that you completely reneged on a verbal contract wit
h me. You wouldn’t accept my calls, and that was based off one action that you refuse to speak to me about. You don’t strike me as a trite or frivolous woman. You’re highly successful with your net worth close to the seven figures. So the fact that you completely shut me out seems a bit premature. So…”

  I held out my hand to let her finish my statement. Instead, she simply looked at me with the same focus. Just when I thought she would not respond, Sheryl spoke.

  “What you’re asking, Jacquez,” she said in a crisp tone. “It’s rather personal, and last I checked, we were fucking and having a child together. This is not a relationship. You don’t need to psychoanalyze me. Just know that I don’t like people that can easily dismiss me. Hanging up the phone is one of those things. Okay.”

  Bloody hell.

  She was definitely triggered.

  Nodding my head, I settled on these were the things we needed to overcome. “The thing is, Sheryl, is that fucking leads to our child, which leads to us cohabiting. You know what that means. I need to know what makes you tick. You need to know the same for me. We need to know our buttons, and we need to know how to address them. What we cannot do is shut down and shut each other out.”

  She nodded but said nothing else.

  “What do you need to know about me?” I decided to put the ball in her court and me on the hotseat.

  “What are your triggers, Dr. Costa?” she asked with a smirk.

  “Well, my strengths finder assessment states that my number one is Command. Two is achiever. Three is Input. So my triggers align directly with these. If I’m not in control, if I am not achieving and I am not accumulating information, then I am not okay.”

  With that, I left it up to her to fill in the blanks, since I’d said too much already, or maybe it was just enough.

  By the time Sheryl’s driver, Phil, took us to her place, the vibes were crackling in the air. Her hand was massaging my cock the entire ride back. Once we parked and were inside of her place, Sheryl led the way, passed the living room, and moved straight up to her bedroom. Dropping my bag at the opening of the door, I followed her and watched with muted excitement how she seductively took off her clothes and allowed those curves to speak what she wanted without her saying one word.