Dane got inside the truck. “Leaving me here with my cousin was real slimy, yo,” Dane announced, reclining the passenger seat to his preferred position. Looking sullen, Dane flipped through Brick’s collection of CDs.
“I told you why you couldn’t go,” she said wearily. “Look, I’m sorry if you felt…”
He turned up the volume, blasting Kanye West, drowning out Misty’s apology.
It had been a long day for Misty. Too tired to come up with placating words for Dane, she drove in silence, weaving through traffic en route to pick up Brick from his last gig of the night.
Back at the apartment, she intended to download Ashy Cashy’s photos, but Misty lay across the bed to rest her eyes for a moment. Brick flopped down beside her. Within minutes, both were asleep.
Meanwhile, Dane, feeling antsy, angry, and trapped, smoked a Dutch and channel-surfed in the living room. Unable to find anything worth watching, his mind wandered discontentedly. Kingsized bed or not, he’d been crazy to agree to stay in the crib with Misty and Brick. He could hear Brick and Misty both snoring. If he wanted some quick cash, tonight would be the perfect night to ransack the place and jet back to Detroit. But he was in for the long haul. He wasn’t leaving until he got the passcode to the bank account. For that, he’d have to gain Misty’s trust. But, in the meantime, she needed to grip up an extra bed—put it inside her office. Fuck how big the bed was, he wasn’t sleeping in the same bed with another nigga. Fuck was he thinking when he agreed to that dumb shit? He and Brick could take turns sleeping in the spare room. Shit, to get his hands on that bank account, he’d sleep in the office every night if he had to.
Bored, Dane thumbed through a photo album. One page after another, pictures of Misty posing spectacularly. Smiling at club openings, having champagne toasts with sports figures and big ballers. He turned another page. There she was again, stepping out of a limo. He shook his head. Who does this bitch think she is? The black Paris Hilton or somebody?
Dane took an angry pull on the Dutch he was holding. He quickly turned the pages and then gawked when he caught sight of a disturbing image. In the midst of Misty and Brick was someone who looked like he could be Dane’s twin. Had to be that dead dude—Shane. Seeing the close resemblance between him and Shane, he now understood why Misty was trippin’ so bad. She was still in love with the dude in the picture and was trying to use Dane as a replacement.
Dane slid the photo out of its plastic sleeve, held it up for closer inspection. Damn. Dude even had the same dimple in his chin. The shit was eerie. He felt like he was looking at a picture of himself, but had forgotten posing for it. He had a quick bout of shuddering heebie-geebies. He replaced the creepy picture and closed the book.
Other than that lone photograph, every other picture in the house bore Misty’s image. The crib was a shrine to Misty. Seeing poster-sized photos of her all over the place was starting to get on his nerves. It was creepy. He had to get out of there; get some fresh air. The walls bearing Misty’s likeness were definitely starting to close in. Feeling angry…confined…caged, he paced in circles and then strolled into the bedroom. “Yo, Misty,” he mumbled, his voice deliberately low. “I have to make a quick run. Lemme borrow the whip and a couple dollars, aiight, Lil’ Bit?”
Misty murmured an incoherent response, which Dane took to be yes. Puffing hard on the Dutch, he routed through her purse, extracted some bills and her BMW key ring.
There’d been no need for pointless small talk. Heated glances and seductive body language had been their only means of communication. They’d agreed to get together tonight, but wining and dining wasn’t on their agenda. Instead, hot, naked, skin-on-skin bodies thrusting and dueling hips was on their freaky sexual menu. No need to loosen up or get in the “mood” with a puff off a Dutch. Their fiery attraction had been instant and negated the need for anything but hot, carnal sex.
After two impatient jabs on the buzzer, he stood out on the sidewalk, looked up at the second-floor window, and yelled her name. He walked over to Misty’s truck, leaned up against it and waited. Curtains flittered open; he caught a quick glimpse of coffee-colored skin. Satisfied, he sauntered over to the storefront door.
Moments later, the door pushed open. The smile in her eyes welcomed him, but her mouth was poked out in displeasure. “Took you long enough,” she said, sulking.
“I got here as fast as I could.” He slipped inside, closed the door behind him. Inside the dim, confined vestibule, he gave a head nod to her body-hugging, lace negligee. He covered her pouting lips with his kiss, backing her into the mailboxes that lined the grayish-colored wall.
Anxious hands groped her large bosom. Those big, soft titties demanded attention, but his impatient hands suddenly switched direction. Wandering downward, his restless fingers reached and stretched until his hands were wrapped around her voluptuous behind. He held both ass cheeks with reverence, as if gripping a flesh-covered basketball.
“Baby got back,” he whispered in her ear, and then nibbled on the lobe.
She tilted her head saucily. “Baby got back and a whole lot more.”
“Is that right?” His tone was husky, oozing with desire. An image of her puffy punany blazed across his mind. Thoughtfully, he stroked the hairs on his chin. Was she aware that her pussy was posted on Misty’s sex site? If so, what was her cut? Oh, fuck all that; he’d get up in her financial business at a later date. This moment wasn’t the time and judging by the way his dick was thumping and jumping, the cramped vestibule damn sure wasn’t the place. Down, boy! Pressing his dick into obedience, Dane followed Felice up two flights of stairs.
Felice’s plump ass and curvaceous body composition was making his dick drip before it made contact with her flesh. Shawty was packed from front to back.
She led him straight to her bedroom, pulled the flimsy gown over her head and tossed it on the floor. Lying on the bed, body splayed, her mocha-toned nakedness beckoned him. Dane didn’t know what to do first—strip out of his clothes or greedily fill his mouth with one of her succulent, big tits. He wanted to lick her taut tummy, bite on her inner thighs, flip her over and kiss her round, bouncy ass. Like a child in a candy store, he wanted to taste everything—suck cream from titties, lick chocolate from ass, sip the tangy sweetness that glazed her juicy pussy lips.
“Come on, baby, what are you waiting for?” Felice cooed. She writhed ever so slightly, but the sexy, fluid movement spoke volumes; expressed her desires louder and more clearly than she could ever convey with words.
With his dick becoming more and more unmanageable, indecisiveness was no longer an option. Obeying primal urges, Dane unzipped his jeans, slid them down and unleashed the unruly beast. Jeans and drawers hung around his ankles; his dick in his hand.
She smoothed her hand across her hairy mound and wound her hips, undulating vigorously, wantonly welcoming his dick.
Overcome by lust, Dane fell on top of the pussy. Clumsily, he thrust himself inside, grunting as he pushed deeper, desperately seeking darkness and warmth. He had every intention of serving Felice a series of long, rhythmic strokes followed by a speeded-up pace and intensity, giving the pussy a punishing, a pounding. He had planned to teach this bitch the lesson he reserved for flagrant flirts like her. But her pussy was too much for him. Each time the capped knob of his length dipped into her moist, heated center, her pussy lips puckered up and tightened around his thickness. The dual stimulation—the cushiony softness of those big juicy lips brushing against his dick and the liquid heat that poured over the head of his dick—was throwing him off his game.
Heightening the pleasure, Felice tightly contracted her inner muscles. Dane could feel himself about to lose control. Biting the collar of his shirt, ripping the fabric with his teeth, he tried to gag himself, tried to muffle the sound of the strident falsetto that pushed against his throat. Any minute now—one more pussy clench—it would be all over, and Dane would be cumming like crazy and screaming like a bitch.
Gasping, he buried his
face against Felice’s neck. “The pussy was banging, yo,” he exclaimed between panting breaths. “What kind of pussy is that? Red snapper?” he asked, laughing. His chest continued to heave as he laughed and struggled to catch his breath. Coming to terms with his lack of stamina, his less-than-stellar performance wasn’t easy. Trying to play it off, he said, “Yo, that ride was thrilling—like a roller coaster. It ended too fast; I want to get back on.”
His pop had put him down with an old school jam, called “Misty.” The melody chimed from his cell phone, informing him that Misty was awake and, no doubt, fuming mad. He wanted to ignore the call, jump back in the pussy and step up his fuck game. But evil-ass Misty would be out gunning for him. Or worse, she’d call the cops on his ass for jacking her whip. He had open cases—didn’t need that kind of trouble out of the police, so he reached down, grabbed the denim that was gathered around his ankles, patted until he located the phone, and pulled it out of his pocket.
Dane didn’t have to worry about Felice coughing, clearing her throat, or making any kind of jealous female noises. Hearing Misty’s name crooning from the cell phone, had Felice looking appropriately frazzled, eyes bulged, her hand covering her mouth in dreaded fear.
“I told you that I had to go out and grip up a lighter. I couldn’t find one in the crib. Picked up a couple Dutches, too. Yeah, I’m on my way home. I’m right around the corner,” he lied.
Dane snapped his phone shut; cut an eye at Felice.
“You gotta leave?” she asked sadly.
“Yeah, but don’t worry. It ain’t over, shawty. I’m gon’ be back for round two.”
“When?” Felice’s lips curled back into their previous pouting position.
“Soon. Are you working for Misty tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure. She’ll call me and let me know.” Felice thought for a few seconds. “Take my number.”
“Nah, shawty. I don’t have any business with your number in my phone. Feel me?”
Felice gave a reluctant head nod.
“I’ll roll through tomorrow night. Don’t have me standing and waiting around outside. When I ring the bell, get your ass down there and open the door.”
Dane was surprised that Felice let him handle things. She should have been cussing him out for shooting off his seed and leaving her hanging until tomorrow.
He washed up and gave her a quick kiss. He’d make it up to her. She wasn’t wifey material—damn shame that wifey was waiting back home in Detroit. But she was definitely that Philly bitch. He could never get enough of her big, juicy lips.
CHAPTER 34
Dane said he was right around the corner, but a half-hour had gone by and he still hadn’t come home. Resisting the urge to blow up his cell, she distracted herself by downloading Ashy Cashy’s flicks. Gnawing on her lip, she worked on her website, trying to keep from worrying about where the hell Dane could be. After downloading the last photo, the phone rang.
Dane! Misty glanced at the caller ID and was let down when she saw her mother’s name scrolled across the screen. Sucking her teeth, she snatched the phone from its base. She’d told her mother about Dane and made it clear she wasn’t willing to listen to any criticism. She was grown and could do as she pleased. She wasn’t trying to hear her mother lecture about her lifestyle. “Hey, Mom, whassup?” she said in a monotone.
“How come you didn’t return my call?” Thomasina asked accusingly.
“Um.” Misty couldn’t come up with a convenient answer.
“Brick didn’t give you my message?” Thomasina was gearing up to call Brick all kinds of evil names.
“Yeah, he told me you called. I just forgot…”
“Oh,” she said, somewhat disappointed. “By the way, Misty…” Thomasina cleared her throat, preparing to get up in Misty’s business. “What’s wrong with Brick? He has a strange vibe about him, don’t you think? He doesn’t seem to have any fight left in him. I’ve called that boy every name in the book, just to get a rise out of him, and he doesn’t have any comeback. Just says that he’ll tell you that I called. What do you make of that? Is he on drugs or something? I know he stays high on that weed, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this new behavior is on account of him starting to fool around with the hard stuff.”
“Oh, Mom. Leave Brick alone. He’s not bothering you, so be happy. Some people can’t be pleased.” Misty snorted. “You used to complain about how he had too much mouth for his own good, called him disrespectful, now you’re complaining because he stopped playing your game. What is it with you?”
“Don’t jump down my throat. I was just making a comment. An observation. I thought you’d appreciate the fact that I’m voicing a little concern about your man’s emotional state. Something’s wrong with him, Misty. You better keep your eye on him. He’s never been the quiet type. You got that man in there, driving him over the brink. You and your new lover gon’ find y’all selves shot up and left for dead. I hate to ask where everybody’s sleeping.”
“First off, Brick is not my man. We’re just friends.”
“Okay, well, your close friend isn’t acting right. I’m just giving you a heads-up before he flips out, destroys your plush apartment and tears your new man apart—limb-by-limb. Misty, you have to be careful. Brick is usually outgoing; now he’s quiet and acts real timid. Something isn’t right. Keep your eye on him.”
“Mom, there’s nothing wrong with Brick! You are the most complaining person I know. I can’t believe you’re choosing Brick as a target just because he doesn’t have much rap for you now. He’s probably so sick of getting cursed out that he’s just tuning your insults out. You can’t blame him for that. That’s called self-preservation.”
“All right, Misty. So, look, what time are you taking me to my line-dancing class?”
“I thought you quit those classes!”
“I did, but I’m going back. I’m not gonna let a lowlife cheat stop me from getting on with my life.”
“Umph. I can’t believe you’re still trippin’ over Mr. Victor after all these months.”
Misty had no idea that Thomasina had weakened and gone to The Delmar. After too much drinking, she’d allowed Victor back in her bed and ended up with a brand-new heartache. The only good part was she managed to cut Victor with a pair of scissors. Her scissors-tirade was probably big news at The Delmar. Thomasina had been keeping a low profile since that night; too embarrassed to return to The Delmar and too weak with disappointment to go back to her line-dancing class. Other than going to her job, she’d been staying in the house, mourning. But noticing the softening that had started to occur in her inner thigh area brought her to her senses. No man was worth letting her appearance go.
“I can’t do it, Mom. I have too much to do tonight.”
“Well, send Brick or that other…” Thomasina caught herself. “No, don’t send that other thug. I don’t want to meet him. Having to deal with Brick is bad enough, but I think I’m better off not knowing that other one. I’m not going to allow you to shove your ménage-à-trois relationship in my face. It’s not normal!”
“I’m not in a ménage à trois,” Misty protested. “Me and Brick are buddies. Dane is my man.”
“Then why all y’all gotta be living in there together? I never liked it when you used to sneak that evil boy, Shane, in my house. Had him in there sleeping in the same bed as you and Brick.”
“Mom, let it go. That was years ago. When Shane crashed with us, he’d sleep on the floor,” Misty lied.
“Okay, let’s just say that’s true. Then that means you and Brick were laying up in bed together—like boyfriend and girlfriend,” Thomasina said cunningly.
Misty sighed. “I don’t feel like digging up the past.”
“Look, Misty, I didn’t put my name on those papers expecting to still get around on public transportation…”
“Okay!” Misty shouted. “I’ll tell Brick to pick you up.”
With her mother’s transportation arrangements made, Misty’s mind
roved back to Dane. He was missing in action with her whip, and she was becoming more and more incensed with every passing minute. Her arms tightened across her chest, Misty paced back and forth.
She heard the ding of the elevator from down the hall. Finally! She flung open the door. Like a man returning home from a long military tour, Dane rushed inside. Breathless, he bent down and tightly embraced her. Then he cupped her face, stared deeply into her eyes. “I love you, Lil’ Bit. You know I didn’t mean to upset you. I was down to my last Dutch, couldn’t find a lighter—I started feenin’ bad. I asked you if I could borrow the whip and you told me it was okay. You told me out of your own mouth to go inside your purse and take the keys,” he lied with ease.
“I don’t know half of what I’m saying when I’m sleeping…” Her voice was set at an aggravating, whiny pitch. “I went into a panic when I woke up and couldn’t find your ass. I don’t want to lose you, Dane.” Misty’s eyes slid from Dane’s gorgeous face down to his crotch; her mouth watering with yearning.
Dane saw the lust in her eyes; heard the desperation in her voice. Felice had drained him; he had nothing left to give. Eyes flitting about in panic, he noticed the open laptop on the dining room table. Hmm. Misty had been working. Lining up gigs. He deserved his share of the business. Thinking fast, he came up with a plan. He winced suddenly, bent over and theatrically slapped a hand against his heart, and then hung his head low.
“What’s wrong?”
He gripped his forehead, shook his head as if distraught, and slowly walked over to the sofa. He slumped against the cushion.
Misty rushed over, sat next to him, caressed the silky hair on his arm. “Dane, what is it? Talk to me!”
“I can’t lie to you, Lil’ Bit. For real, yo. I can’t do this. This situation you got me in—this ain’t me. I can’t be up in this twisted shit. You’re already in a relationship with dude. I’m not a fool. I was willing to be one for you but this shit is eating me alive. On the real, I was out there driving around in circles, trying to clear my head.”
Big Juicy Lips Page 20
