BOMAW 1-3

by Mercedes Keyes

  "He's your ex-husband. Further more, if you pursue this, I'll use everything in my power to totally and completely destroy him. I assure you, my daughter, I can...and I will."

  With her heart soaring in glee, Angela leapt from the limo and ran up the front steps of her grandparent's home and into the mansion. Unable to break her speed, she dashed up the stairs with her school bag in hand and dropped it on the floor as she entered the library to find her mother; too happy to notice how she sat at the computer vacantly staring.

  "Well? What have you found? I think we should just go! Let's just go there and find a place, then we can have our stuff delivered later," she panted, breathing hard from her excited sprint.

  Deidre turned her eyes upon her daughter to see her cheeks flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Well? Have you found anything?" she asked her mother, finally noticing the crestfallen look in her eyes. "Mother? What's wrong?"

  Deidre didn't know what to say, she could only stare.

  "Mother! What's wrong?"

  "We're not going," she said finally.

  "What? Why not?" Angela asked, eyes wide.

  "Angela...I've...I've been thinking about it all day. Nothing I say or do is going to make a difference with you father. It's over...I think it's—"

  "You said! You said we're going there! That we'll move there! You said that you still loved him! That you would give it a try! You said! You promised! You can't go back on it now! I want to move to Wisconsin where my father is!"

  "Angela, listen to me—"

  "No! You promised that we'd go back! If you don't go back now, it'll be too late! She'll get him and you won't have a chance!"

  "Angela! I don't have a chance now!"

  "You have to try!"

  "Stop shouting!"

  "How do you know, if you don't try? Please, mommy…try...please try, at least! You have to!"

  "Angela! Your mother has spoken."

  Angela turned to see her grandfather standing in the doorway watching and listening. "You did this! You've done something or said something to change her mind!"

  "I've only talked some sense into her. You're too young to understand."

  Angela turned back to her mother. "Mommy, please...don't listen to him. Don't listen to him. Let's just go. Let's just leave this place. If we tell daddy we're coming, if we explain, he'll let us move in with him. Please, mommy, let's just go."

  "Angela, stop—" Deidre tried.

  "No! I won't stop! I won't! I want to be with my father! Do you hear?" She turned to her grandfather. "I hate it here! I hate it! And I hate you!"

  * * *

  "Shawn! Oh, Shawn!" Sylvia shrieked and panted straddling him, his hands gripping her hips as he pumped hard and fast, sucking on her neck, his blue jeans down to his knees.

  Having stayed at her mother's for another two weeks, and him calling her everyday—begging her to hurry home—she couldn't help but wonder…was this the reason? He was uncontrollable. Ever since she gave the green light and uncapped his desires, she could barely keep him off of her - even before he'd left Chicago, he'd made love to her several times, sneaking a moment to have her, not just at the hotel, but in her mother's basement, when she would step out to the store, to make a run - he went for her and she'd let him, now this!

  Her left foot still had her underwear and pants hanging off of it. "Ah! Shawn!" she squealed again as he rose and turned her to her back on his sofa, resuming his hungry consumption of her.

  Finally she'd gotten her mother's business in order before leaving and couldn't wait to get back to him, she'd called him on the way as soon as she'd reached Madison. He'd assured her that the house was fine, he'd installed some safety features to make her feel more secure there. Getting off her cell phone, she'd smiled and continued her drive. Pulling up into his driveway, she'd gotten out of the car, smiling as he stood looking for her, no shirt covering his magnificent chest. He was wearing jeans, no socks, no shoes—just a fat grin and a gleam in his eye. Smiling, she'd stepped out of her car, walked up to his door…to be snatched in and ravished.

  "Shawn!"

  "I've had a hard-on for three days, fantasizing about you!" he'd warned her in between kisses, stripping her pants down at his door and lifting her off of her feet to carry her to the sofa where they were now. She felt so full and invaded by him, throbbing hard and heavy within her snug tunnel, it made her head spin and her lower region pulsate. Biting into her bottom lip, she felt it...that deep gripping electrode getting ready to electrify her from the top of her head down to her toes, making them curl as she screamed, "Oh god—shit, Shawn—oh, shit!" Her head tossed just as she felt him swell and explode deep within her. He was just as noisy as she was, shouting and grunting like a man possessed.

  Both of them were shattered, gasping for air, drawing in deep drags of oxygen, Shawn's body collapsed down on hers with their heads nestled beside each other. "Oh, man...you feel good, lady...I swear to God, you're going to have a hell of a time keeping me off of you."

  "Shawn! You can't be doing this! You didn't use a condom!"

  "Hey…you grabbed me, pulled me down for a kiss."

  Sylvia laughed. "You liar...well...just a kiss, you're the one who went nuts! Tossed me on the sofa!"

  "Oooh, baby, don't be like that. I was scared you'd wanna talk...I had only one thing on my mind. Now we can talk."

  "You!" She slapped his heavy arm, "... get off me!" She bucked. "My leg is going numb!" And tossed him to the floor.

  "Hey!" he yelped, hitting the floor.

  "You're a big boy! Quit whining."

  "You know, you're ungrateful...I treat you to an awesome nut banquet—then you dump me!"

  "Nut banquet?" she shouted, laughing until he reached up and pulled her to the floor with him. "Shawn, nooo! Sto-o-p! You're gonna get it on me!"

  "Get what on you?"

  "That! Get it away from me!" she squealed, speaking of his wet, limp appendage.

  "And what's wrong with a little me on you?"

  "It's disgusting, now let me up so I can go wash!" She tried to hold him at arm’s length to keep a safe space between them, realizing she should have never let him know. "Shawn…no! Don't you dare!" She fought and screamed trying to get away from him as he gave an evil laugh, threatening to touch her. She rolled and sprang to her feet, her naked, plump rear bobbing before him as she took off.

  "You can't out run from meee!" he shouted, jumping up and running after her.

  Sylvia ran, laughing and screaming, "No, Shawn, don't…noooo!"

  He stepped on her pants that were still attached to her ankle and tripped her, having his way with her again. A bit later, they showered together, ended up in bed where he went further, slower, until she was out cold from sexual exhaustion. Dozing on and off, they woke three hours later, spooning and cuddling cozily.

  "I am so sore, Shawn," she complained, squeezing her thighs together.

  "I'm sorry...I couldn't help myself, you have that effect on me."

  "You didn't use a condom, Shawn, not once."

  "Aren't you on the pill or something?"

  "No—I'm not. I haven't been for a couple of years now, there was no need."

  "Shit—you're screwed in more ways than one."

  "You!" She reached behind and popped him on the arm. "You were supposed to be using a condom!"

  "I will next time," he lied.

  "Next time, my butt!"

  Shawn laughed. "No thanks, I ain't a butt man."

  "Yooou!" Sylvia scolded. "You know what I mean! Don't think you gone be jumping me anytime you feel like it, you done lost all control! We not married yet! I don't even have no ring!"

  "How do you know?" he asked, looking down at the side of her face.

  Sylvia turned to her back and looked up at him. "What does that mean?" she asked.

  He grinned that grin. "It's a question. You know, an inquiry to follow up on your earlier declaration. Usually a question requires some form of considerat
ion, thought, and then an answer."

  "Ha, ha, ha...you're so smart. So...do I…have a ring?"

  "As a matter of fact, you do...and if you're good to me, I may give it to you now."

  "Good to you? Ma-a-an, you got me laying up here—sore—as—hell! That's as good as it's gone get, baby!"

  Shawn cracked up laughing, hugging her he shouted, "Oh, I love you, black woman! You sure right about that! Don't get any better than this!" He rose, naked and fine, making Sylvia sigh just watching him cross the room. "Sit up, baby...I think you're gonna like it."

  All teeth, Sylvia sat up against the headboard of his bed, watching him open his wardrobe and pull out a little safe. Opening it, he brought out a black velvet box. Turning to her, he winked and flexed his brows. "What's in this little black velvet box, once I slip it on your finger...it does not come off—no matter what! Until I remove it to put on the wedding band when we marry," he said, all serious as he approached the bed and sat down close to her. "It doesn't go on until you promise me that. I love you…this time, my second time around, it's for keeps...or not at all...I mean it, Sylvie."

  She sighed staring up at him. "I love you, too," she finally stated.

  "That's not enough. I want you to do more than love me. I need you to be absolutely certain of this…of us…of me. I need you to trust in me, to believe in me, and to stand by me no matter what. I've had one wife who loved me...wasn't enough. She let people come between us. People and things...I'm not going through that again. If you accept this ring, let me put it on your finger, it's for keeps...or else say you're not sure now...I'll put it away."

  "Shawn...I said I love you. If I wasn't in this for the long term, I wouldn't say that."

  "Yeah, yeah, that's because it's all sweet, nice, and feels good...now, that is. What about when problems happen, which they're bound to. There will be problems, I'm not so stupid as to believe there won't be. But you know what...I want what my parents have. I want that. I want, come hell or high water...we're side by side, through thick and thin. That's what I want, that's what I'll give."

  Sylvia smiled, feeling her eyes fill with tears. "I want that, too."

  Shawn sat staring at her, his heart pounding, his mind whirling with thoughts. Tell her...tell her about you r past, tell her now. Get it out in the open, so she knows. Don't put that ring on her finger without telling her about your early life in L.A. Shawn sat staring. No...that's in the past, if she loves me, believes in me, that is all irrelevant.

  "Shawn? What's wrong?" she asked.

  He sat staring a moment more, then finally said, "I need you to believe in me, and mean what you say. I need to feel that I can trust that you'll stand by my side and never ever leave me. I want this for good."

  Sylvia rose onto her knees, moving up to him to hug him to her breast. He just looked as if he needed her to. "I love you, Shawn. If you'll never leave me, I'll never leave you. I promise." He hugged her tight, then turned her so she was on his lap. With her right arm around his shoulders, he flipped the box open with his thumb and took her left hand. "Oh my god, Shawn...oh my god!" she gasped at the 3 carat ring. It had a 2 carat princess-cut center stone, and another carat cut into 1/8ths to circle the surface of the platinum band. It took her breath away.

  "Now let's hope it fits. I think it will. You have small fingers, and this is an average small. Besides, if it doesn't, we'll take it in…aaah, yeah, it fits." he finished, pushing it onto her finger as he spoke.

  "Oh, Shawn."

  "It never comes off, until I take it off to place the band."

  "Yes, not until you take it off."

  Chapter 26

  "And where have you been?" Oscar asked, coming from his shower to his bedroom, to see his wife finally home and undressing. He watched her laying her clothing onto the chaise lounge, slow to answer him, as if she needed time to contemplate whether she would or not. He stood holding his towel around his neck, his fists gripping and squeezing both ends that hung there, imagining it to be her throat. He loved, as well as hated, Georgiana Victoria Wherrington for so many reasons. While his entire life had been built upon lies and schemes to inculcate his life into the mainstream of the wealthy, she had been born and bred there. To win her attention and then her heart, he'd created for himself an identity and character that was far from what he in fact was. The son of a laid-off Pittsburgh steel worker, who's father turned to alcoholism to assuage the agony of unemployment and worthlessness. Oscar learned of it when the funds to finance his college education fell through. Then he learned the art of being something he was not, weaving a tremendous lie of a lineage that belonged to one of the guys he went to school with.

  Dating his wife, he knew that timing was crucial. He'd pretended to receive an urgent phone call, which was easily carried out by paying an accomplice, lied that something urgent had taken place and he must get home, leaving Georgiana to believe he was in great distress. He disappeared for two weeks, then returned with a tragic tale of his family being swindled out of all their money and that his father, unable to take it, had committed suicide. Seeming distraught, he convinced Georgiana that his sanity hinged upon her marrying him and right away, that if he didn't have her, he had nothing to live for. At the time, she was naive enough to believe him and had eloped with him. Returning with him as his wife, her father had gone over the roof. Weeks later, he'd gone over it again when the truth had been discovered. With all of his political ties and a well-known name and reputation, they carried on his lie to save face. As months went by, the marriage began to deteriorate, but her father felt she deserved the bed she made for herself and thus was forced to remain in it.

  Years later, their love/hate marriage was their deserved sentence for going against the right and wrongs of their choices. Georgiana stayed with her husband, but cheated on him as revenge for the humiliation he'd inflicted upon her. Although discreet, her manner and disdain could not be mistaken. While her father, who sought to protect the interests of his family name and wealth, and her as well,dbn made it so that she was named sole heir of their finance company in the event of his and his wife's death. Should anything happen to Georgiana, it would automatically go to her daughter, Deidre. As for Oscar, he would be left with nothing more than his own gained and worked for interest. It was for that reason, Oscar had constantly dismissed the idea of having Georgiana killed, because then his daughter would inherit, and after her, Angela.

  "I asked you a question," he reminded her.

  "So I heard," she returned with disinterest obvious in her tone, standing in her slip and stockings. Her thin, regal, graceful body in perfect form for a woman her age. "I am your husband, you know." Walking past him into their large bathroom, she returned, "Yes, so I'm often reminded." Oscar turned and walked in behind her, watching as she disappeared behind the marble stall to use the toilet. "Do you mind, I'd like a bit of privacy," she called from within. "I was in here first. You're enclosed in marble, that's privacy enough. Do you know what's been going on around here?"

  "No doubt the usual."

  "Your daughter was in the process of finding a place to live. A place in Wisconsin, to follow McPherson. I had to talk her out of making a fool of herself by pursuing him."

  Oscar waited for something from his wife, but she grew suddenly quiet. "Well?" he pressed.

  "Well, what? You…you talked her out of it...right?" she asked, still sitting with her mind working. "Is that where he is, in Wisconsin now?"

  "Why do you wish to know?" he asked with a snarl clear in his voice. The toilet flushed, she walked out still adjusting her panties. "Just a simple question, don't get your hackles up."

  He snatched her arm, tugging her towards him, anger in his eyes. "Don't tell me not to get my hackles up! Where have you been?" he ground out. With a lifted brow, she looked from his eyes and glanced down at his hand gripping her arm, growing tighter as the seconds ticked by. "Have you taken leave of you senses, turn me loose," she commanded in a low voice.

  "You tell me why
you asked where he was?"

  "Curiosity...just good old-fashioned curiosity."

  "Curiosity...is what got the cat killed."

  "You threatening me?" she asked. Both stood staring at each other, thinking and wondering who hated who more.

  "Know this...a man can live with only so much humiliation. Don't push me to the point where I don't care," he warned.

  She snatched her arm free. "You? Don't care? Ha! You've got what you want...a name, money, power. I don't delve into your affairs and I expect you to leave me to mine."

  She walked away, her heart pounding. There were days, times, when there was a slight seed of doubt as to whether he could be pushed to the edge. No...he likes this life too much. She dismissed him immediately as her mind went to Shawn. Whirling about it was an incomplete fantasy of him; she donned her robe and walked out on their balcony, leaving her husband behind to wonder at her thoughts. They were both thinking the same thing at the same time. What was going through her mind, were her two fantasy adventures at Melba's Women's Club. Few knew of the true functions of the house. Few knew of the fantasies that privileged women, such as herself, could pay to be fulfilled.

  Hearing about Shawn brought back to mind the young man from so many years ago, over 20 years now, yet he remained fresh in her mind. Her fantasy, the one she had paid so well for, had been to be set up as if she had been kidnapped and treated like a hostage, taken by her captor, tied hand and foot and then ravished for hours. Her captor had been masked, his identity hidden. All she knew about him were the things he did to her body, the way he gave her her money's worth. She'd requested him a second time, same fantasy…and then a third. Disappointment...the third time had been a different masked captor. She'd searched high and low for her masked tormentor/captor with little luck. Melba held a contract that she must protect the identity of all of her guys. Georgiana had never felt his touch again...and since him, none had ever made her feel as he had.

  Then her daughter brought home Shawn Everett McPherson. Something in the way he looked at her, sent her senses of wonder reeling. Then she'd had time to listen to his voice, so similar to her lost fantasy man. Although he did all in his power never to be left alone with her, never to make eye contact with her, she knew. She knew that it was him, no matter what she did to manipulate him into admitting that he was the one, he remained indignant that she was mistaken, saying,