Torn: I Don’t Need You . . .
But I Want You
Torn: I Don’t Need You, But I Want You By Latoya Chandler
Kindle Edition
Published by Passion Publications on Kindle
Copyright © 2014 by Latoya Chandler
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without prior written consent from both the author, Latoya Chandler, and publisher, Passion Publications, except brief quotes used in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real person. All the characters, incidents, and dialogues are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, entities, places and incidents is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author/publisher.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank God for gracing me with the creative ability to write this book, despite all that was going on around me.
I would like to thank everyone who has supported me, such as my children—Preston, Jamel, Jaye, Kayla, and Kendall.
To the love of my life Darryl, thank you for pushing me and supporting my dreams.
Amber, Shaquan, Valerie, Papaya, Tootie, Elizabeth, Shekie and the LSC family, thank you for your support.
Lovey Shareese, thank you for being who you are, I appreciate you so much.
I would like to thank my mom and my whole family.
To all of my friends and readers, thank you so much for the love and support.
Prologue
He clearly has me all the way fucked up if he thinks he can just end things with me and I’m okay with it. Oh, hell to the no, somebody done told him all the way wrong. I have risked entirely too much to be with him to be forced to be sitting in this car waiting to catch him out there. I just know there’s no way in the world that his horny, nympho, sex-crazed behind can go from staying waist deep in me to needing time to himself. Go somewhere with that, because I refuse to accept that as a final answer. You can trust and believe, I will find out on this very day.
I must really be upset because I am cussing like I have lost every bit of my home training. I am going to need the Lord to forgive me on this one; this man has me in my feelings, ready to kill somebody. There’s no way you can tell me that we don’t belong together. I mean, after losing touch with one another for twenty-three years before reconnecting, then picking up where we left off as if we’d never skipped a beat, it will be a very sad day for him if I find out anything remotely close to the opposite of what he has been telling me. If so, like Biggie said, “There’s going to be a lot of slow singing and flower bringing,” and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. He knows that when I love, I really love. There is no in-between. I don’t know what gray is because my love is black and white.
I know you probably think I am some crazy, stalker-type chick who suffers from abandonment issues, but you’re wrong. With that being said, please don’t judge me! If you were in the same predicament as I am, you’d probably be doing the same thing. If that’s not true, it really doesn’t matter; I don’t owe you anything. I’ve never been the one to care about what another person thinks or feels about me. See, messing with you has gotten me all off the subject. In any case, there is too much history for him to expect me just to walk away like we don’t mean anything to each other.
Chapter One ~ Latavia’s Getting Married
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched.
They must be felt with the heart.
— Helen Keller
I can’t control the stream of tears escaping my eyes as I admire myself in the mirror. Although this is the happiest day of my life and the happiest I have ever been, I feel like something is missing. ‘Maybe it’s just wedding-day jitters,’ I think as I put on my big-girl panties. There is no way I can have my Prince Charming waiting too long. Oh yes, I, Latavia Wakefield, am about to walk down the aisle in one of the baddest Vera Wang gowns money can buy. It’s all thanks to my bestie and wedding planner, Nariah. I pretty much told her what I wanted, gave her a budget to work with, and she made my dreams a reality. It’s still unbelievable that in approximately forty-five minutes, I will become Mrs. Darnell Maxwell Carter. It’s crazy because, in all actuality, it feels as if we just met.
I become lost in my thoughts and begin reminiscing on just how Darnell and my relationship began. No one would ever believe that we’d met only a year-and-a-half ago, on a dating website of all places. Hell, I was there, and I still can’t believe it. What started off as a hobby, or a way for me to pass time at work, turned into something bigger. I became intrigued and infatuated with the six-foot-three, dark-chocolate, muscle-packing, Idris Elba-lookalike who I just had to meet him face-to-face. It wasn’t just his looks that had me going; I can honestly say, ‘He was killing me softly with his words,’ in the words of songstress Lauren Hill. Darnell knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. Then, on top of all that, he listened to me. He didn’t just hear me, he actually listened, and this, my friend, seemed too good to be true.
So I made up my mind, stepped outside my box, and agreed to finally meet him in person. I figured, after all, since we had been chatting and getting to know one another via text messaging, picture mail, and countless hours of phone conversations for a little over six months, it was time to meet. Once we confirmed our face-to-face introduction, I requested that he meet me at the Victoria’s Secret in the Smith Haven Mall. That was easier for the both of us since we both lived in Long Island and the mall was approximately thirty minutes away for both of us. Yes, I suggested Victoria’s Secret. The reason being we had never spoken about sex, and I needed to make sure he wasn’t a punk when it came to finessing these draws.
Who would have thought it would have turned out to be the best first date I had ever had in my life. I ended up modeling every single item for him in my heels, per his request. So, not only did we end up shopping, but once his eyes beheld all this edible arrangement God has so graciously blessed me with, he wanted to run his pockets in the worst way and I kindly accepted. I am what you would call beauty and brains, who happens to be thick on all the right places, or thickums if you let Darnell tell it. No, I’m not the perfect coke-bottle-shaped-type female, but I know how to capture a man’s attention. So when he pulled out his credit card for lotions, body spray, bras, and underwear, I let him have it his way.
I’m snapped out of my moment of reminiscing as Nariah walks into my dressing room.
“You have twenty minutes to dry your eyes, get your makeup refreshed, and get your ass ready to walk down that damn aisle! I have worked entirely too hard for you to make me look bad!” she snaps before smiling. I have to laugh at her crazy butt because it sounds like something I would say to her. That’s one of the reasons why we are as thick as thieves to this day; we are so much alike.
It takes all of ten minutes to reapply the makeup I’ve ruined with my tears, and before I know it, it’s show time.
“Well, thi
s is it,” I say to myself as I take one last look in the mirror at the snow white, floor-length gown that is accented with Swarovski crystals. It hugs my frame seductively, yet tastefully. “There’s no turning back now.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I become nervous and hesitant. I quickly ignore the nagging feeling and regain my composure; I assume it comes along with the territory of wedding-day jitters.
I’m so glad I listened to my heart and not my panicking mind, especially once the double doors of the church open. The sound of the acoustic guitar playing Here Comes the Bride gives me my cue. Moments later, I lock eyes with my Prince Charming, who stands smiling at the end of the aisle. A lone tear escapes his eye and rolls slowly down his face before he wipes it away. As I stand in my designated spot, I know I am making the right decision. However, that doesn’t stop my nerves from going into overdrive, causing me to squeeze Nariah’s hand even tighter.
Before you ask—being nosy about to ruin my entire wedding day by not minding your business—yes, I had Nariah walk me down the aisle. She is a wedding planner by trade, my bestie for life, and the only family I acknowledge. So who else would I have do me the honor of giving me away? The closer we get to the end of the corridor, the more I panic and tighten my grip. Although I am squeezing the life out of her hand, Nariah turns to me and gives me a warm smile. This assures me that, as she stated earlier, Darnell is the best thing that has ever happened to me, despite all that I’ve been through throughout my life, and it is evident right now that all has and is working together for my good because of the prize that presently awaits me.
The rest of the wedding ceremony goes by in a blur, and before I know it, Pastor Foreman is pronouncing us husband and wife. Darnell pulls me into his arms, and I am finally able to slob my husband down. Oh yes, today is a good day.
Chapter Two ~ Latavia’s Aladdin
Nobody can go back and start a new beginning,
but anyone can start today and make a new ending.
— Maria Robinson
Words cannot begin to express my feelings for this man. He is undoubtedly a gift from God, specially-made and handcrafted just for me. Darnell loves me past my hurts, pains, and insecurities—well, at least the ones he knows about. The way I see it, we all have a past buried in the back of our minds—off limits for discussion—that we would prefer to keep hidden and take to our graves. I am quite sure he has a few skeletons of his own he purposely didn’t mention; to put it another way, things are beautiful just the way they are. That’s neither here nor there, because no matter what he or I may have gone through, he makes sure to keep a smile on my beautiful face and ensures I stay happy no matter what.
He does just that and then some. For instance, since our three-week honeymoon cruise to Europe, I have been to Hawaii, France, Italy, and the Bahamas, which included shopping sprees wherever we went. Places seen on television, dreamed and read about, my beloved made a reality for me. I don’t just love him for the material things; I love him because he genuinely loves me. He taught me what love is and how to love not only him, but how to love myself.
Let’s not forget about his sex game. Good Lord, that man has my body free on demand; whatever he wants me to do, say, or explore, his wish is my command. Every time we drop down and get our eagle on, it’s like the very first time we explored one another’s bodies. Speaking of the first time, it happens to have happened the night we met at Victoria’s Secret for our first date. If I’m not mistaken, I was trying on some lingerie as per his request, and seeing the bulge in his pants let me know I was doing a fantastic job, prompting me to turn the show up a notch- as if we were the only two in the store. Of course, side-eyes from the other patrons in the store were present and noticeable, but if you know me, you know good and well the hate is just motivation. I couldn’t care less what anyone feels or think of me. Anyway, after modeling for Darnell, he wanted to purchase each and every item I had tried on, touched, or looked at, along with a few other things.
“How do you feel about going to happy hour to have a few drinks and appetizers?” he asks as we exit the store.
“I would love that,” I reply, blushing and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Cool; we can take my car if you don’t mind.”
“Lead the way, handsome,” I seductively reply.
Mahoney’s Bar and Grill must have known this is our first date and I want to leave a lasting impression. Our drinks are on steroids, strong as all hell. I, no doubt, drink entirely too much and am feeling myself which, of course, leads to me being very frisky. My hands have a mind of their own and they want to touch, caress, and grope Darnell’s bulging manhood, and they do just that.
“I’m sorry; I know it’s not ladylike, and while my mind is saying no, my eyes and hands are saying, oh yes,” I joke.
When I feel his manhood at full attention, my mouth begins to water. I want to see, feel, and taste all that thick cock being held hostage in the jean shorts he is wearing. Darnell must have read my mind, and he has plans of his own. The look he gives me would have made my panties soaking wet, if I had any on. He stares into my eyes with a dirty, lustful grin, grabbing that mouthwatering protuberance in his pants. Without removing his eyes from mine, he gives me a head nod towards the door.
“I think we’re done here, little lady,” he says, helping me to my feet.
I quickly follow his lead, get my hot tail up out of my seat, grab my purse, and proceed to exit the building. Looking over my shoulder, I can see Darnell is right behind me, practically on top of my four-and-a-half-inch Nine West pumps. As we approach the car, he grabs me by my hair and pulls me into him, where the back of my head is resting on his chest as he lifts my skirt up, allowing his hands to travel the pathway to my love garden. When he reaches his desired destination, my hot juices begin to drip on the two fingers he is using to dance around my juice box, and he is able to feel just how wet and turned on I really am.
“Damn, baby, all this is for daddy?” he asks inquisitively.
I can see this has turned him on to the eleventh power. Darnell slowly begins removing his fingers from my hot box, allowing my nectar to drip down from his fingers to my inner thigh. He wastes no time in devouring the remaining secretions that are left behind off each of his fingers, slowly and seductively, one-by-one. I learned a long time ago, ain’t no fun if momma can’t get none, so I join him and begin licking my own juices off with him, stealing kisses in the interim when our lips connect. That is something I have never done, and to my surprise, I am hooked. I am fascinated with the way I taste and he enjoys it just as much as I do.
“You taste so good, baby. I can imagine how good it’s going to feel when I slide up in that.”
“I love the way your mouth feels, Darnell,” I moan.
He allows his hands to have a free-for-all and roam all over my body; without notice, he lifts me up off the ground, gently slamming me onto the hood of the car into a sitting position.
“Relax, while I tame that cat,” he instructs as he proceeds to spread my legs wide enough to get a good look at my honey bun. From the looks of it, he must like what he sees; he goes into beast mode before sliding me down to the edge of the car, dropping to his knees, and going head-first, licking and sucking all over my sweetness as if it is his first and last meal. Darnell allows his tongue to penetrate me as if it is his manhood, switching between stabbing his tongue in and out of my canal to using the tip of his tongue to dance across my clit to a tune only he can hear. I love every minute of it. Within a matter of minutes, my legs begin to shiver and I experience my very first orgasm at the age of twenty-nine.
“Oh my goodness, what are you doing to me?” I wail in pleasure.
“Treating you like a lady,” he replies, increasing the speed of his tongue lashing.
It is one thing for a man to make you cum, but an orgasm, my friend, is and I quote, “A whole new world.” I have never, ever, in my entire existence, had
a man take his time to please me the way Darnell has, and to top it off, it has taken place on the hood of a damn car. That alone has me open like 7-11. He doesn’t give me any time to recover from that mind-blowing orgasm before he forcefully but yet gently slides me off the car.
“Bend over and grab your ankles,” he instructs with the same authority an officer of the law would use when arresting someone.
I do as I am told, and he lets his masculinity find its way home, entering me with a quick thrust, exploring every inch of my walls. I match his rhythm and throw my ass back like a quarterback, third in line. I am testing him to see if he can catch all this good loving I’m throwing at him to make him feel as good as he is making me feel. Just when I feel him tensing up, I ease away from him and push him up against the truck.
“My turn,” I utter enticingly, sliding to my knees and locking eyes with his before demolishing all nine-and-a-half inches of him. I gag. a little, but I am far from a punk, so I relax my throat and slowly take all of him into my warm mouth like a real champion on a mission to complete and accomplish the task at hand. I professionally lick, spit, slurp, suck, and deep-throat on that thick, chocolate beef stick as if I am getting paid for my services, until his knees begin to buckle. Once he commences to doing the Harlem shake, I suck even harder, allowing him to explode in my mouth, releasing all his burnt-sienna babies down my throat.
“Damn, girl, what are you trying to do? Make a brother wife you up?” he inquires, slightly out of breath.
“Just giving you something you can feel, to let you know all of this is real,” I retort.
By the time we regain our composure, I happen to look over to my left and that’s when I notice we have an audience.
“Darnell, I think someone’s watching us. Look over there.” I embarrassingly point in the direction of the Peeping Tom.
“He has company, and from the looks of it, he’s not paying us one bit of attention.”
Torn: I Dont Need You, But I Want You Page 1
