Let Me Free You (McClain Brothers Book 4)

by Alexandria House

  “She’s probably on Instagram looking at one of those comedians’ videos. You know she lives on IG,” Jo said.

  Me to Neil: I sure hope you back up all this shit you’re talking.

  Neil: Just call me Pardison Fontaine.

  Rolling my eyes, I tucked my phone in my purse and watched the pedicurist dry and oil my feet. “Do y’all think me and Neil would be a good match if the circumstances were different?” I asked.

  “Shit, y’all are a good match now. You need a husband and he’s willing to marry you,” Bridgette answered.

  “I mean, our personalities and stuff. You think they match?”

  “I don’t know, Sage. Neil’s so quiet most of the time, it’s hard for me to get a good bead on him,” Jo said.

  “But you’ve been quiet, calmer lately, so y’all might be a perfect match. Y’all still getting along?” Bridgette said.

  “Yeah, we’re cool.” They were my closest friends, but something was telling me not to share the progression of my relationship with Neil with them. Probably because I knew I had no business planning to screw him. But shit, I wanted to.

  I really, really wanted to.

  As Jo started telling us about Everett wanting to sign Nat up for tee ball in the spring, my phone dinged again.

  Neil: I’ma put your titties together and suck both of them at the same time. Ask Nasty Sage how she feels about that.

  Me: Fuck Nasty Sage. Shy Sage is wet as hell right now. It’s like a swimming pool between my legs.

  Neil: Awww, shit! I can’t wait to swim in it. I’ma be Superdick Phelps!

  At that, I cackled out loud but calmed down when both Jo and Bridgette turned to look at me again.

  *****

  “Get it, Sage! Get it! Yassss! Feel all up on that chocolate, girl!” Bridgette egged me on, as I rubbed the buff stripper’s chest and winked at him.

  The tall, sexy stripper, whose name was Snoop Dong, flicked his tongue at me and then fell to his knees in front of me, burying his face between my legs and shaking his head from left to right. Screams and squeals filled the private room inside of The Launch Pad as I covered my mouth and giggled.

  This secret bachelorette party was lit as hell! It was a secret, because if Big South or Nolan had any idea that their wives had hired this stripper to entertain us, they’d both be right here in this room with us, probably holding a gun to poor Snoop’s head—I really don’t know why he chose that name because he was hella fine with a long dick. He looked waaaaay better than Snoop Dogg. Anyway, Big South and Nolan thought we were all having dinner together or something like that. I didn’t even tell Neil the truth for fear of him telling his crazy-ass brothers, but to be honest, as fun as this party full of my freaky friends and family was, this dude didn’t have shit on Neil. Neil was just…it. And now that we’d decided to have sex after we got married, he was virtually the only thing on my mind most waking hours of the day. Right at that moment, while Snoop Dong shook his ass in my face, I was visualizing what Neil’s naked ass looked like and recalling how big his hands were, the muscles in his arms, that damn six pack that taunted me when he was shirtless around me, the way he smelled, his smile, his eyes, his lips and how they felt when he practice-kissed me, how his mouth tasted—

  Snoop Dong grabbed my hand, pulled me to my feet, and lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and as he went about the business of air-screwing me, I closed my eyes and imagined he was my fiancé.

  Three days before the wedding…

  She dropped it low and put her hands on her knees as she twerked her ass to the music. I adjusted in my seat as I watched her booty bounce like it had a damn motor in it while Blac Youngster’s Booty filled the club.

  Her ass jiggled up and down and then she spread her legs, sliding into a split, and started bouncing to the music again. Damn, this chick had talent.

  And a big ass.

  But the crazy thing was, the whole time this stripper—I think her name was Juicy—performed, it made me think of Sage. I’d seen her dance before. Shit, she could twerk just as good as this chick if my memory was correct. Then I started wondering what Sage’s naked body looked like. I’d seen those thick thighs and legs. I bet her naked ass will make a grown man cry.

  I shook my head a little, told myself to stop thinking about shit like that before I ended up with a hard dick I couldn’t do anything about. Because I was not screwing that stripper. I was saving myself for my wife.

  The fuck was I saying?

  My eyes toured the club—Second Avenue. No one was drinking, thanks to a very considerate Everett, so things weren’t too wild. Hell, my three brothers had their faces in their phones. Wasn’t no one going to catch them with their eyes on Juicy or her remarkable ass. They were trying to maintain their happy homes. I was trying to build one, I think. Well, I was trying to do something with Sage, and on my mama, the shit felt right. Her living in my house? Me marrying her? Us planning to fuck? All of that felt like a natural progression, an accelerated version of what was supposed to happen in a romantic relationship. The shit didn’t make sense, so I mostly kept my feelings to myself until my counseling sessions, which had been more frequent as of late. Mother Erica knew it all.

  “Peace, power, and light, my brother.”

  I looked up to see Jeremy Unger, one of the first friends I made when I moved to LA. I hadn’t talked to dude in years, partially because of being messed up in the head for so long, and also because Jeremy could be on some bullshit sometimes. Nolan had made the guest list for this bachelor party. How the hell did he get in touch with this dude?

  “Peace, power, and light,” I responded.

  “How you feeling, man? You ready for this? Ready to get hitched, jump the broom?”

  “Yeah, man,” I answered. “I’m ready.”

  He fell into the chair next to mine, his eyes glued to Juicy’s booty. “Well, congrats, man. Good to see you got your shit together. And I hear your fiancée is a baddie. One of them thick ones.”

  I didn’t like the way he said that shit and had to wonder who was saying stuff like that about Sage. “Where you hear that?” I asked.

  “Well, actually…I saw some pics Big South’s wife posted of her on IG. She’s a winner, man!”

  “Yeah…thanks, man. She’s a catch, for sure. I’m a lucky man.”

  “Yeah, yeah…where you meet her? Through South’s wife?”

  I eyed him. What was this nigga on? Probably some bullshit, like I said. “Yeah,” I replied.

  “That’s cool, man. Y’all keeping it all in the family and shit, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Can’t wait to meet her at the wedding.”

  He left, and I followed him with my eyes. I hoped I wouldn’t have to put my foot up Jeremy’s shifty ass over Sage. Wait, where did that come from?

  “What that nigga want? I don’t trust his ass. He always looking shifty and shit,” Leland said, taking the seat Jeremy vacated.

  “I know. I don’t know why Nolan invited him, but then again, I don’t fuck with a lot of people, so the options were few.”

  “What he want?”

  “Asking about Sage. He better not be on no shit with her, though.”

  When I turned to look at my little brother, my only little brother since Nolan was a few minutes older than me, he was staring at me with a frown.

  Finally, he leaned in close to me, and whispered, “I thought this was a fake marriage.”

  “Fake or not, I don’t want that motherfucker messing with her. She’s still gonna be my wife!”

  “My bad, nigga. Shit. So…you really are good with marrying her, huh?”

  “I’m better than good with it,” I said, standing from my seat. I was over Juicy’s show and being surrounded by folks I’d lost touch with long ago. Most of them were from the conscious community but were sleep as a motherfucker. But shit, I used to be the same way; that’s why I associated with them back in the day. Now I knew better. Anyway, I would’ve been c
ool with just a little get-together with my brothers.

  I walked out into the club’s lobby and pulled out my phone to text Sage.

  Me: What you doing?

  Sage: Eating up all your dried apricots. They are good as hell!

  Me: That’s fucked up.

  Sage: Whatever. What you doing? Being nasty at that party? Y’all got strippers and shit?

  Me: Currently? I’m texting you, missing you.

  Sage: Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.

  Me: I mean it.

  Sage: In that case, I miss you too. Hurry home so you can burn your incense and meditate and read your books.

  I chuckled as I typed out: I was thinking it’s time for me to burn some sage. You ready for me to set you on fire?

  Sage: There you go talking that shit again.

  Me: And I can’t wait to back it up.

  10

  Two days before the wedding…

  “What did you say we’re doing? Explain this shit again, please,” Jo said, taking the words from my mind.

  “We are going in there to get a yoni steam treatment. Think of it as a pussy facial. I hear it’s life-changing.”

  “So you’ve never done this before? Hooker, I’m not going in there letting them steam the skin off my thing-thing!” I shouted.

  “Aww, yeah! There she is! Good to have you back, friend,” Bridgette yelled, raising her hand for a high-five from me.

  “I ain’t high-fiving your crazy ass! Why are we doing this, anyway? I mean, I get why we did the mani, pedi, facial, eyebrow threading, my braids—” I swung my head from side to side. “That’s all wedding prep, but a coochie facial? Girl, please.”

  “I’m with Sage, Bridge. I’m not feeling this at all,” Jo said.

  “But it’s good for you!” Bridgette declared.

  “How the hell do you know if you’ve never done it before?” I asked.

  “Because I did the damn research. Hell, I ain’t tryna mess my own pussy up when I got that good got-damn Gone with the Wind dick at home. Shit!”

  I rolled my eyes while at the same time wondering if good dick was something twins had in common. “Fine. What are the damn benefits, then?”

  “Okay, you bitches listen,” Bridgette said.

  Jo sighed loudly. “Heifer, would you come on with this? We are three black women sitting in a damn spa parking lot in America. Some white woman be done called the cops on us for existing.”

  “I’m trying to. Damn!”

  “Got-damn, Bridge! Tell us!” I said.

  “If you two don’t shut the hell up! Anyway, it helps reduce stress, boosts energy, it’s supposed to be really relaxing, and it makes your punani wetter.”

  “Aw, shit…I’m in, then. The wetter my coochie is, the better,” Jo said.

  Then they both looked at me perched in the backseat, and Bridgette asked, “What about you, Sage?”

  I shrugged and twisted my mouth to the side. “I guess I’m in. I don’t suppose it’ll hurt anything.”

  “Good! Let’s go,” Bridgette chirped, hopping out of her car.

  “Shit, the wetter my pussy is, the better, too,” I mumbled, as I climbed out of the car.

  “You say something, Sage?” Jo asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “Wait,” Bridgette said, once we made it to the front door.

  “Aw, hell…what?” Jo asked.

  “Y’all not on your periods, are you?”

  “No,” Jo and I said in unison.

  “Anybody pregnant?” Bridgette asked.

  “Hell no!” Jo and I said in unison again.

  “Do either of you still have IUDs?”

  “You know I got mine removed so I could conceive Lena. I’m on the pill, now,” Jo said.

  “And you know I ain’t never had an IUD. I’m too scared to get one,” I reminded her.

  Bridgette released a sigh. “Good, because you’re not supposed to do this if you have an IUD or are pregnant or on your period.”

  “What about you? You got an IUD,” Jo pointed out.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Oh, shit! Y’all tryna have a baby?!” I screamed.

  “Shit, no! I still ain’t having no babies. Y’all gotta leave that alone. Having babies is not every woman’s dream.”

  “I know that, but why you take the IUD out, then?” I asked.

  “I just decided to switch it up. I got the patch now,” Bridgette explained.

  “Oh,” Jo and I chorused.

  A few minutes later, we were inside of the Amani Day Spa, in individual dressing rooms. I quickly peeled off my leggings and long t-shirt and pulled on the gown dress thing the lady who greeted us provided. After I had the strapless, gold-embossed dress on, I inspected myself in the mirror, took in my thick body, my meaty shoulders, my full face, my lips and nose, ran my fingers through my tiny braids, and sighed. Closing my eyes, I hoped I was doing the right thing and that somehow this marriage wouldn’t end up being a clusterfuck. Shit, I didn’t want to somehow drive the man to drink again. I liked Sober Neil.

  I dug my phone out of my purse to shut it off so that I could “foster the peace of the ritual,” as our hostess put it, and a text came through almost the second I touched the phone.

  Neil: I was just sitting here listening to some Gil Scott-Heron and thinking about how many orgasms I’ma give you on our wedding night.

  With a grin on my face, I replied: Gil Scott-Heron makes you horny?

  Neil: Your young ass knows who he was?

  Me: I’m not that damn young, Neil. I’m almost thirty, only like seven or eight years younger than you.

  Neil: You young as hell, baby.

  Baby? Damn, that made my clit jump.

  Me: Whatever.

  Neil: Anyway, I was thinking about giving you orgasms before I started listening to him. I started listening to him to take my mind off you. Didn’t work. I’m sitting here hard as hell right now.

  I had to sit down on the little bench in the dressing area and fan myself. Shoot, my yoni was already steaming.

  Me: Neil?

  Neil: Yeah, baby?

  Shit!

  Me: I gotta go.

  Neil: Okay. I’ma go take a damn cold shower.

  I giggled and responded with: Have fun.

  All three of us sat on individual custom-built wooden boxes on platforms. They were kind of like wooden toilets, but instead of us sitting over a bowl of toilet water, the hostess placed a steaming hot ceramic bowl of water and herbs in the box, instructing us to sit over the hole like we would a toilet bowl. Then she helped us drape our gowns around us to trap the steam underneath.

  It felt like…shit, I can’t even describe it. It was so warm, like there was a gentle heat lamp trained on my yoni, and I felt all these sensations down there that made me close my eyes and just bask in the peace of that place. The music piped into the room was so calming, and the steaming ritual was so cleansing, that when the twenty or so minutes had passed and our hostess came to retrieve us, I didn’t want to move a muscle. I didn’t want to leave. I don’t think Bridgette or Jo did either.

  Once we’d gotten dressed and climbed into Bridgette’s car to leave, we were all quiet, still vibrating from the experience until Bridgette announced, “I feel like I got a new pussy. I mean, it’s like I got my teenage pussy back. Shit, I can’t wait to do that again!”

  “Girl, me either! That was sooo good!” I yelled.

  “Hell, I’ma figure out how to do that shit at home!” Jo informed us.

  We went on and on about how good it felt and how much we loved it. Jo even did an Internet search on her phone and found a site that sold the yoni-steaming herbs and custom-made seats. But while we discussed the experience, what I didn’t share was how horny it’d made me feel. I was so got-damn hot, I wasn’t sure me and Neil were gonna make it to the honeymoon before I attacked his fine ass.

  But unfortunately, he wasn’t home when I made it there.

 
; It was late when I made it home. I’d decided to spend some time at my bookstore, had a meeting with my manager, and looked over the store’s sales stats. I couldn’t do nothing but be thankful it was still doing so well seeing as my ass had been too busy fucking my life up to give it any attention. Anyway, I ended up helping out with running the register, talked to some of the regular patrons, ordered some books, had lunch with Nolan on the same block as the bookstore, and then sent my manager home and took care of some paperwork. I grabbed a couple of Buddha bowls from one of my favorite restaurants for me and Sage’s dinner and was happy to see her car in my driveway when I pulled up.

  The house was dark, quiet when I stepped inside, and I figured she’d knocked out early because Bridgette and Jo had been running the shit out of her that week. I walked into the dark kitchen, and when I heard, “You finally made it home, huh?” I damn near dropped our food.

  Flicking the light on, I turned to see her sitting at the kitchen table wearing a short t-shirt and a pair of those booty shorts she liked to sleep in. I swallowed and nodded. “Yeah…got caught up at my store. Had some work to catch up on.”

  “Oh.”

  “What you doing sitting here in the dark?”

  “Thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “I was wondering if we could practice on that kiss again?”

  I set the food down. “Uh, yeah…sure.”

  She stood from the chair, her breasts bouncing in that little-ass shirt as she walked toward me, then she wrapped her arms around my neck, and said, “With tongue.”

  Before I could agree, because I was definitely going to agree, her mouth was on me and her tongue was bumping against mine. I squeezed her to me, tilted my head to the side, and deepened the kiss. When she cocked her leg up around my waist, I grabbed her ass and helped her wrap her other leg around me. Then she started grinding on me, making my damn dick jump to attention. I stumbled back against the counter, gripping her ass like I’d fall if I let it go. She kept grinding on me, moaning into my mouth as we kissed, and all kinds of nasty, crazy shit was running through my mind.