ALSO BY MARY B. MORRISON
Head Games
I Do Love You Still
Careful What You Click For
The Crystal Series
Baby, You’re the Best
Just Can’t Let Go
The One I’ve Waited For
If I Can’t Have You Series
If I Can’t Have You
I’d Rather Be with You
If You Don’t Know Me
Soulmates Dissipate Series
Soulmates Dissipate
Never Again Once More
He’s Just a Friend
Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top
Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This
When Somebody Loves You Back
Darius Jones
The Honey Diaries
Sweeter Than Honey
Who’s Loving You
Unconditionally Single
Darius Jones
She Ain’t the One (coauthored with Carl Weber)
Maneater (anthology with Noire)
The Eternal Engagement
Justice Just Us Just Me
Who’s Making Love
MARY B. MORRISON, WRITING AS HONEYB
Sexcapades
Single Husbands
Married on Mondays
The Rich Girls Club
WRITING AS MARY HONEYB MORRISON
Pleasers: How to Sexually Satisfy Women
Never Let a Man Come First: A Woman’s Guide to Understanding
Male Behavior
Dicks Are Dumb: A Woman’s Guide to Choosing the Right Man
CAREFUL WHAT YOU CLICK FOR
MARY B. MORRISON
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER 1 - Kingston
CHAPTER 2 - Victoria
CHAPTER 3 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 4 - Kingston
CHAPTER 5 - Monet
CHAPTER 6 - Jordan
CHAPTER 7 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 8 - Monet
CHAPTER 9 - Kingston
CHAPTER 10 - Victoria
CHAPTER 11 - Jordan
CHAPTER 12 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 13 - Kingston
CHAPTER 14 - Monet
CHAPTER 15 - Victoria
CHAPTER 16 - Jordan
CHAPTER 17 - Jordan
CHAPTER 18 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 19 - Kingston
CHAPTER 20 - Monet
CHAPTER 21 - Victoria
CHAPTER 22 - Kingston
CHAPTER 23 - Monet
CHAPTER 24 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 25 - Jordan
CHAPTER 26 - Victoria
CHAPTER 27 - Kingston
CHAPTER 28 - Monet
CHAPTER 29 - Jordan
CHAPTER 30 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 31 - Victoria
CHAPTER 32 - Kingston
CHAPTER 33 - Monet
CHAPTER 34 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 35 - Jordan
CHAPTER 36 - Kingston
CHAPTER 37 - Kingston
CHAPTER 38 - Victoria
CHAPTER 39 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 40 - Jordan
CHAPTER 41 - Kingston
CHAPTER 42 - Kingston
CHAPTER 43 - Victoria
CHAPTER 44 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 45 - Jordan
CHAPTER 46 - Kingston
CHAPTER 47 - Monet
CHAPTER 48 - Victoria
CHAPTER 49 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 50 - Jordan
CHAPTER 51 - Kingston
CHAPTER 52 - Monet
CHAPTER 53 - Victoria
CHAPTER 54 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 55 - Jordan
CHAPTER 56 - Kingston
CHAPTER 57 - Monet
CHAPTER 58 - Victoria
CHAPTER 59 - Chancelor
CHAPTER 60 - Jordan
Teaser chapter
Discussion Questions
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 by Mary B. Morrison
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2019953573
Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-1091-8
First Kensington Hardcover Edition: June 2020
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1094-9 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-1094-0 (ebook)
To my literary guardian angel,
Walter Zacharius,
thanks for believing in me
Acknowledgments
Everything must change.
Pray with and for me as I will do the same for each of you. I have the best family, friends, fans, and publisher. Never could’ve made it this far without your love and support.
There are constants in my life. God. Faith. And my willingness to do the things I am most passionate about. I’m now doing film, television, nonfiction, public speaking, and operating my 501(c)(3) nonprofit, Healing Her Hurt, Incorporated, based in Atlanta, Georgia. If you shop on Smile.Amazon.com, please select our organization. Amazon will donate a portion of your purchase to HHH and there is no charge to you.
For the past twenty years, I’ve been with the number one literary company, Kensington Publishing Corporation. Steve and Adam Zacharius, Barbara Bennet, Selena James, and the entire staff, I’m eternally grateful for all you’ve done to elevate my career. This is (perhaps) my last fiction work, but it’s also the beginning of a new chapter for us.
My son, Jesse Byrd Jr., joins me on the filmmaking trail and he’s received awards for the Mom’s Choice, 2018 Picture Book of the Year in London, Paris Book Festival Top 3, and other accolades. God gave me the right child. Jesse is a brilliant and compassionate human being with a love for penning and publishing children’s books. Visit Jesse online at www.JesseBCreative.com.
Hamdy and Magda Abbass, thanks for giving life to two phenomenal women. I am blessed to have Emaan Byrd (my daughter-in-law) and Heidi Abbass (my daughter-in-law’s sister). We have our unique bond.
When I think of home, Wayne Morrison, Andrea Morrison, Derrick Morrison, Regina Morrison, Margie Rickerson, Debra Noel, the late Elizabeth Morrison, and our unborn sibling, I think of our upbringing. We’ve each come this far by God’s grace. I love each of you!
Pets are family members, too. “Mom, I want a Yorkie,” my son said, and I protested to the end. Jesse was college bound and for the first time in nearly twenty years I didn’t want anyone or anything to care for except myself. Turns out, KingMaxB was more loyal than any man I’ve dated (lol). If you have a pet, you feel me. As with rearing my child, I’m fortunate to have co-parents who love KingMaxB unconditionally.
Julie Brown, Princess Cole, Julien Edward Brown Perry, Shari Williams Brown, Eve Lynne Robinson, your co-parenting is priceless. Although KingMaxB lost his eyesight at the age of twelve, dude is still humping his stuffed animal girlfriend on the regular.
I add cars to my friendship train every year. At each junction, old friends ride along, new friends board
. Others transition into another space. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; therefore, wherever you are, I am with you and vice versa.
Kendall Minter, Kenneth P. Norwick, and Alan S. Clarke (my attorneys), Esi Sogah (my new editor), Karen R. Thomas and LaToya C. Smith (my former editors), Christal Jordan and Tiffany Irene (my publicists), and John Williams of Worldstar, I don’t want to imagine where I’d be if it weren’t for you guys.
My gurl squad runs deep: Lieutenant Colonel Cassandra Guy, Judge Vanessa Gilmore, Felicia Polk, Koren McKenzie-John, Esq., Carmen Polk, Dr. Angela Davis, Dr. Rose Rowden, Lauren Davis, Rachelle “Slice of Pie” Davis, Vyllorya A. Evans (my mentor), Jo-Vanté Morrison, Derrianna and Derrianne Morrison, Anissa Rickerson, Michaela Burnett, Vanessa Ibanitoru, Brenda Jackson, Marissa Monteilh, Lilly Ortiz, Tina Celisa Robinson, Chantel Val-lés, Marion Whitaker, Colonel LaNita “Nikki” Taylor, Yevonna “Missy E. the Partydoll” Johnson, Jessica Holter, L. Nyrobi Moss, Joelle Gracia, Charlene “Queen” Johnson, Sherri New, and Kim-bercy Marie Harris-Jones. If I’m going to make this book longer than my list of gurlz, I have to stop here. Each of you have had a positive impact on my life.
Richard C. Montgomery, I love you, man.
Many of you have a story to tell. Some don’t know where to start. Others have a difficult time committing to the process. Penning a book isn’t for everyone, so I encourage you to do anything you’re passionate about.
Roneagle4Life! McDonogh 35 Senior High Class of 1982 (in New Orleans, Louisiana), we are and forever will be #1.
What’s life without social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat at @celebhoneyb.
Wishing each of my readers peace and prosperity in abundance. Visit me online at www.MaryMorrison.com. Sign up for my newsletter and follow me @celebhoneyb.
1.5 MILLION MISSING BLACK MEN
(in the United States)
—The New York Times
Online dating will be the best or worst decision you’ll ever make.
CHAPTER 1
Kingston
He can’t remember his face, yet he’d never forget his name.
The cap of his Arturo Fuente Opus X fell to the floor as he snapped the guillotine. Slowly he dipped the shoulder of his cigar into a shot glass filled with pure honey, placed the sweetest end between the enormous lips classmates used to ridicule him for having. Lighting the foot, Kingston suctioned a long drag of the savory tobacco smoke into his mouth.
Kingston stood. Clinched the tip of the seven-inch stick between his teeth, suctioned in the bold taste, then placed the cigar in a groove on the tray. His eyes were fixated on the guest who was seated on the maroon velvet sofa. Kingston walked to the living room’s window, then closed the beige blackout drapes. Retreating to the bedroom, he removed his red designer fitted pants, black T-shirt, and green boxer briefs, then carefully lay each item on the plush king-sized bed. Optioning to keep on his red knee-high compression socks, he returned to the living room, reclaimed his seat in the black-and-white paisley-print barrel chair. Exhaling white clouds of smoke from his mouth and nostrils at the same time, he spread his legs.
Gazing across the room, he held in his darkest secret. It wasn’t his fault.
“Get off the couch. Take off your clothes. Get on your knees. And suck my dick,” Kingston said in an apathetic tone, making more of a request than a demand.
A five-star hotel in Buckhead was Kingston’s temporary haven. A place where he could be his authentic self. He placed his stick between his pointing and middle fingers.
Six feet, nine inches didn’t make him a man. Becoming a multimillionaire at the age of twenty-two hadn’t altered his character. Being thirty and one of the blackest men in America, he feared three things: being killed by a white police officer, wrongful incarceration, and . . .
Suctioning the smoky smoothness, Kingston wondered how they’d made it to arrangement number thirteen. On the square table within his reach were his room key, phone, a brightly lit lamp, a torch device, and the ashtray where he placed the stogie.
He retrieved his cell, scanned the app BottomsUp, swiped left twice, right once.
Staring across the room into a beautiful set of large brown eyes, Kingston firmly said, “Sweetheart, I’m not going to ask you twice. Your only other option is to get out.”
They’d met on the app BottomsUp. For Kingston, it was supposed to be a one and done. That was why he had to find a replacement today.
What does the kid that had performed fellatio on Kingston look like today? Slim? Fat? Tall? Short? Beard? Mustache?
Third grade. Janitor’s closet. Between brooms and a yellow bucket on wheels filled with dirty water and a mop, his pecker is being sucked for the first time.
“You know I’m not going anywhere, silly. Stop trying to act all bad and stuff. I know you want me. The feeling is mutual.” Theodore Ramsey rose in slow motion, approached Kingston, removed his shirt, twirled it in the air. He pranced to the sofa, neatly lay his pink polo across the back. Unfastening his belt, he pushed his pants to his knees, shuffled his feet back over to Kingston, then stepped out of his jeans. Theodore seductively swayed his dick left and right. “We need some music, baby,” he said, reaching toward the table with the lamp.
Grabbing his cell, Kingston firmly reminded Theodore, “What’d I tell you about that ‘baby’ bullshit. Stop calling me that. And don’t you ever make the mistake of touching my phone.”
“I was reaching,” Theodore said, emphasizing the word, then continued, “for the cigar. Come out of hiding and you won’t have to worry about anyone finding out that you’re—”
The janitor’s closet is where his innocence was compromised. Inhaling the scent of wet mops, bleach, and pine, he watches the little boy lock the door. The light is on. Kingston’s back is pressed against a cold metal stand with shelves overflowing with rolls of paper towels and toilet tissue.
“Say it and regret it!” Kingston sprung from his seat. “I’ll put your ass out of my suite for good.”
Theodore stepped two feet back. Shook his head.
Kingston sat center on the armless paisley chair, admiring his guest. Theodore was six-two with glistening skin that looked like he was dunked into a barrel of glazed caramel. His beard, mustache, and pubic hairs were shaved to a smooth shadow. Theodore’s uncircumcised penis pointed toward Kingston’s full lips.
Theodore knelt in front of him.
A call registered on Kingston’s cell. It was his wife. Her timing was inconvenient. He tapped the red circle to decline hearing her voice. Placing his phone on the wooden table, Kingston gazed down at Theodore. “Sorry, man. You don’t get it. I’m not that way.”
Staring up, he said, “Your wife is the one who’s not getting it or your dick. You’re lying about your marital status to others. The only reason you told me was because you know I don’t care anything about a pussy.”
Lying was easier. How often did women search for validation? Most men and some women didn’t care about a wedding ring.
Afraid of being a disgrace to his family, friends, and fans, Kingston found it was easier to live his life based on what others expected of him. There were things he admired about Theodore Ramsey. Primarily, his open sexuality, candor, courage, intelligence, sense of humor at times, and his not having a dark side.
Theodore leaned over; then he gently kissed Kingston’s inner thighs.
“I still want you to come by my clothing store. I have a wardrobe for you that I know you’re going to like, Mr. Royale. And I’ll have my partner design you a branded signature look.”
“Cool.” Picking up his cigar and torch, Kingston held the fire at the edge, then sucked the tip several times, reigniting the fading flame.
It feels good. The wetness of the little boy’s mouth on his pecker when they are alone in the janitor’s closet.
Monet Royale wasn’t going anywhere. He’d hit her back later. Kingston had an urgent hard-on to tend to.
His shaft grew wide
r. Longer. He reached toward his crotch, untucked his balls from underneath his butt. Too many encounters were beginning to lead to Kingston developing emotions for Theodore. Blowing smoke in Theodore’s face, Kingston insisted, “Let’s get this over with.”
Theodore rested his butt on his heels, placed his hand on his hip, questioned Kingston as though Kingston had put a ring on his finger: “That was her, huh?”
Kingston had the best privacy screen for situations like this. No need to deny the truth. Nodding, he realized there was no competition between Theodore and his wife. Just differences. Kingston wished he could merge the best of both of them into one person.
He knows it is wrong. But he can’t leave the janitor’s closet for two reasons. He’s never felt anything that has made his entire body tingle. And he is afraid of the rumors if someone sees them coming out together.
“If you want to get this over with, you can at least silence your damn phone.” Theodore lamented, then politely added, “Please.”
The most salacious male specimen Kingston desired—mind, body, and energy—slowly glided his tongue from Kingston’s knee to his balls, causing his erection to stand at full attention.
Wow, Kingston thought, letting the second call from his wife go to voice mail. Staring at the sugary temptation before him, Kingston anxiously welcomed being Theodore’s dessert.
Kingston leaned forward, slapped Theodore’s ass. “Get the lemon cream pie out of the freezer.”
“Cream and pie and it’s frozen. You should’ve been said that, ba . . .” Theodore let the other half of the word resound in his head, then he saluted Kingston. He strutted barefoot on the chocolate hardwood floor. “You know I’m a headmaster, and tasty toppings bring out the beast in me.” Theodore growled, “Grrr!” then snapped his teeth twice.
Careful What You Click For Page 1
