There was an art to giving me head. I couldn’t just get my dick sucked and be satisfied. His mouth had to make love to it. Both hands or no hands, Demi’s long tongue wrestling with my manhood sent me into a frenzy. There was one thing he could do that Mona couldn’t. He could make me come within minutes with his oral sex. He sucked me off for all of four minutes this time before my come filled the back of his throat.
My body jerked and spasmed as I made him stand, then pushed him on the bed. Told him to lie on his stomach so I could admire all the things that made him male. The powerful muscled back that dipped and made his muscled ass sit out, down to his sinewy, powerful thighs.
I grabbed a condom from the drawer and slipped it on. Sweat had already beaded at my temples. Anticipation made us both say things to one another that made my dick harder. He wanted me to fuck him. Claim what was mine. I intended to. I ran my tongue from the nape of his neck down to his backside as I grabbed the lubricant from the table. Poured it where I wanted it to be.
He squirmed a bit. Was just as anxious as me. While I straddled him and kissed his neck, I eased my hardness inside of him. Demi always tensed at the first moment of entrance. Being well endowed, I knew I always had to be careful, no matter how many times we’d done this. I took a deep inhale to steady my breathing. He was always so tight, but still welcoming.
He gave a guttural rumble in his throat. I loved that shit. Made me stroke just a little bit faster. Our sounds were primal, animalistic. I was mean to him, just the way he liked it. In this position, he couldn’t run, couldn’t move away from the intensity of my strokes. We’d been with other men. I’d seen Demi break men down to their bare minimums. They would brag about being able to handle dick, until they had to handle him.
Demi was an animal. He was dominant in every sense of the word, and only for me would he submit. Only for me would he take dick, let me have control, and bite the bullet as he rode the wave to satisfaction. I got satisfaction out of seeing him fuck other men, but I got immense pleasure when he allowed me to fuck him. There was nothing sexier to me than a man who kept his masculinity while allowing another man to sex him. Demi was that man.
No matter how hard I stroked or how deep I went, he was still a man. And I loved that shit.
“Tell me you love me,” I growled in his ear.
His breathing was uneven, voice heady when he said it.
His words came out strangled, like he was somewhere on an island, between pain and pleasure, caught up in a whirlwind of sensual satisfaction. My chest was against his back, arms cupped around his shoulders, as I worked my ass and hips, dipping in and out, out and in. And then I ground on him. Sometimes he hated that. Other times, he loved it. This time his moaning and groaning was somewhere between the two.
I worked him so hard, so well, that every muscle in my body was on fire. I sat up a bit, and with one powerful thrust after another, I took him there. I gave him the kind of hard dick, long stroking that only a real man could take. I left bite marks on his neck and shoulders. My nails dug into his waist.
My dick hardened more, grew to twice its normal size. He had fucked up by giving me head first and making me come. The first nut was always the easiest. The second one he had to work for. It was coming, though. It was coming. I felt it travel from the back of my thighs to the base of my spine.
I cupped his shoulders again. Laid my chest against his back and worked him faster, harder, longer. He was losing his mind. Saying shit that he would never admit to saying once we were done. He loved me. I knew that. He wanted me to fuck him harder. No. Not harder.
“Slow down,” he said.
He let out a roar that was sure to wake the neighbors when I didn’t heed his advice.
“Too much,” he told me.
I went harder. Sucking on his neck, then biting it. He lost his cool.
“Fuck, Elliot. Shit, nigga. Come already.”
I didn’t. Not right then. I went harder at him, until I felt his spine stiffen and his body jerk.
“That’s what I was waiting for,” I told him.
I needed him to come first. Electricity shot up my spine, making me throw my head back and yell out into the night. Yeah, I was sure the neighbors heard that shit. Good. I came. I came so hard, my eyes watered, and I let out sounds that I didn’t recognize. We came together. Hard and sensual. Just the way I liked it.
Mona
I can’t believe you’ve been in Atlanta this long and didn’t tell me, Summer had texted me earlier that morning.
I smiled as I texted her back hours later. Summer was a good friend of mine. We’d met long ago, back in college, when I was just a timid, shy girl who jumped at her own shadow. Summer’s life had given me the background story to my last NYT best seller, Pleasured-Bi-You. She’d told me the story of her and her husband, who was bisexual, and his friend, Michael. The writer in me had gone wild. Of course, I’d asked her if I could write about this. She’d told me I could, and the rest was history.
I’d intended to stop by her place, because I didn’t want to stay locked up in that hotel, especially since I couldn’t think of anything to write. I also didn’t want to sit around, waiting for Elliot to call or text. When noon hit and I hadn’t heard from him, I left the hotel. I then texted Summer just because I needed another woman’s energy around me and I hadn’t seen her in a little over a year. But she informed me that she had to deal with an emergency that had come up.
That left me to my own recognizance again. So I headed to the nearest Barnes & Noble. Maybe a change of scenery would help me get the words down to keep the story flowing. I’d been there, sipping coffee and picking at the almond-filled croissant I’d bought, for at least three house when my phone beeped.
Where are you? he texted.
Visiting friends, I lied. Where are you?
At your hotel, he responded.
That got me excited, but I didn’t want to rush to him. Didn’t want to drop everything for him, like I was known to do. Elliot had too much power over me, and he knew that. So I sat there, kept writing until the words just wouldn’t come anymore. Making him wait was something I’d never done before, and I was sure I was going to hear about it.
I didn’t care. I was tired of being the one who always came running to him. I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves. I needed to stop. If I hadn’t been so angry and annoyed, maybe I would have remembered all those times Elliot had flown around the country to see me. But in that moment, I didn’t care. He always made things about him. Today I decided to make them about me.
Elliot kept texting me the whole time I lingered at Barnes & Noble. I was sure he was annoyed by now. Normally, when he called, I came running. I’d made up my mind that morning, it was time to break that habit. No need for me to keep giving more than I was receiving. At least that was what I told myself.
After I made it to the hotel, I hadn’t felt like parking my car, so I’d had the valet do it for me. After the valet took my car keys, I smiled at the young man as I handed him a twenty-dollar tip, then removed my shirt. It was hot as hell in Atlanta. All the valets thought they were about to see me naked on top, but the spaghetti-strapped tank I had on underneath my shirt ruined their plans. I winked at them and kept it moving.
Elliot had a key to my hotel room, so I wouldn’t have been shocked to see him there, waiting for me. However, seeing Demitri gave me pause. He sat in the chair in the living area like he owned the place. He was the first person I saw when I walked past the foyer. Sitting as a king would on a throne. The sight annoyed me more than intrigued me. He was dressed like he had just come from church, and looked nothing like the rugged version I’d met before, and his good looks were more prominent today than they had been the day before. Gray dress slacks, brown wing-tipped dress shoes, and a black collarless dress shirt were his attire. His eyes were trained solely on me, as if it was his personal space that had been violated.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t avoid his eyes. Even when I averted my
own from his, I could still see his eyes in my head. Demitri reminded me of a Mandingo warrior. One of those whom all the women in the tribe wanted to marry because he was prime real estate. His muscles were so defined, I started to wonder if he was made of stone and what he looked like naked.
“Why are you in my room?” I asked.
That was my greeting. I didn’t want him there. Didn’t need him in my personal space. So, why was he there? Who had invited him? My face frowned in annoyance, as I already knew that answer. That Elliot would invite that man into my hotel room told me he was way too comfortable doing whatever he felt he could when it came to me. My mind was jumping all over the place because of this.
In a city that was known to be a gay mecca, finding black men who looked like Elliot and Demi and who were also attracted to women was rare. You couldn’t be openly bi in Atlanta. There was no such thing. You had to choose between gay or straight. There were no gray areas, at least not according to the rules of some in the LGBTQIA community and the heterosexual community. Bisexual people were the underdogs of the underdogs. And God forbid if you were a bisexual black man.
That was me trying to process Demitri being in my hotel room. I had started thinking about random shit that had nothing to do with anything.
“Where’s Elliot?” I asked.
“He went to get something from his truck,” he answered.
I kicked my shoes off and moved around the cool hardwood floor. I took my laptop into the bedroom and laid it on the desk. Demitri’s scent permeated the hotel room. Why in the hell did he smell like that? He smelled delectable, but since this scent was wafting off of him, it irritated me. What was that smell? And why didn’t he leave my hotel room?
I walked back into the living area, snatching my things up as I went. I’d left things out, personal stuff, that I didn’t want him to see. Underwear, bras, and personal hygiene items that he shouldn’t see.
“I read your last book,” he said out of the blue.
I stopped slamming things around long enough to look at him. “And?” I said flippantly.
He shrugged. “It was okay.”
I scowled. “What does that mean?”
“It was all right. I didn’t get what the hype was about. I’ve read better, actually.”
He said that so casually as he watched me with no emotion on his face. I had a good mind to spit on him. How dare he insult my work? I’d put my blood, sweat, and tears into that book. For him to tell me so casually that he thought my work was trash made me want to put my braids into a ponytail and ninja kick his giant ass out of that chair.
But I didn’t. I reeled my emotions in and realized he was trying to rattle me. So I chuckled. Then I laughed. “Okay,” I said. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion.”
I had to treat him like he was one of those entitled readers who figured that instead of giving me honest constructive criticism, they’d just trash my work.
“And what is it that you do again?” I asked. “Oh, wait. Construction, is it? Couldn’t quite cut it in med school, huh?”
For a second, and only a second, I saw his breathing change. I saw those gray eyes glaze over and turn into slits. I’d pushed a button, while letting him know that Elliot liked pillow talk. I probably knew just as much about him as he did about me.
“Fuck you,” he said.
“I’ll pass,” I replied snidely just as Elliot walked back into the hotel room.
He looked from me to Demitri. “Everything cool?” he asked.
I ignored him and went into the bathroom. For the rest of the time we were in my hotel room, I treated Demitri like he was invisible. No matter how hard Elliot tried to start a topic of conversation that everyone could get in on, Demitri and I just weren’t meshing. It was like trying to stick a circle in a square hole.
We left the hotel room, having decided to go out since it wasn’t raining. We ended up at Swan House, much to my chagrin. I didn’t understand the South’s fascination with days past. Swan House reminded me of the houses that plantation owners used to have that had evolved over time. It looked like something right out of a 1920s Hollywood movie or The Great Gatsby. I wasn’t impressed.
From there we ended up at Lenox Square. The place was crowded and reminded me of a drag show or a gay club, for the most part. It was hard for me to tell the gay men from the straight men. Even those posing as straight couldn’t keep their eyes off Elliot or Demitri. There was just something different about a New York man in the South. They had a different aura about them. While most of the men at Lenox Square walked either like they were having a hard time keeping their pants up or like something was stuck in their butt, Elliot and Demi had an ease about them.
I’d never seen a man who made chewing gum look as sensual as Elliot did. Elliot had on all black. Black Polo shorts and a collarless, short-sleeved Polo shirt made up his ensemble. The casual black Levi’s sneakers he had on made him appear to be an urban outfitter.
While Demitri was inside the Apple Store, getting something for his phone, I shared what was left of my ice cream with Elliot. I dipped my finger in it, then put my finger in his mouth. I liked Elliot when he was relaxed. He was easier to deal with, as opposed to when he was trying to be in control.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I mean, it’s cool for now. Wish you hadn’t had Demitri in my hotel room,” I said.
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal, but I should have asked first. I’m sorry,” he said.
I smiled up at him. “It’s okay now. What’s done is done.”
“Are you going to lighten up with him a little bit?” he asked.
I was sitting on his lap, so I snapped my head around to look at him. “Me? He’s been giving me his ass to kiss since we met!”
“And you haven’t done the same?”
I wiped my mouth and turned back around. I looked at Demitri in the Apple Store. No matter how hard I tried to pretend as if the man wasn’t fine, he was. All the men and women openly ogling him proved my point.
“He told me my book was trash,” I said.
I didn’t know what I expected from Elliot by telling him that, but it wasn’t for him to chuckle. I stood, then gawked at him.
“You find that comical?” I asked in disbelief.
Elliot was so nonchalant when he said, “I knew he didn’t get the hype behind it, but he never told me he thought it was trash.”
“Why is this funny to you?”
“It’s not funny that he called your book trash—”
“Please stop putting my book in the same sentence with the word trash.”
“It’s funny that he said anything to you about it at all. He’s fucking with you, Mona.”
“Well, it was rude,” I said.
“It was,” he said.
“Right. So don’t tell me to lighten up on him, when he’s the asshole.”
“Then I must be a reflection of you,” I heard from behind me.
I turned to find Demitri standing there. In all his imposing glory, he peered down at me. It was almost as if he wanted me to say something snide to him. Almost as if he wanted a quarrel. I could have gone off on him right in the middle of Lenox Square. Could have put on a show. Could have turned Lenox Square into the more ghetto Greenbriar Mall and made a scene that would end up on all social media platforms by the end of the day. But I didn’t do any of that.
Instead, I asked him, “Want some ice cream, asshole?”
Demitri declined my offer but smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was more of a smile that hid the “Fuck you!” he really wanted to level at me. I gave him a smile that hid the same. Elliot shook his head, and we all continued our walk through the mall.
A few hours later, we all sat down for dinner in my hotel room since it was too hot outside to do much. I had got cranky and annoyed because of the heat after a while. So had Elliot. Demitri had bought shorts at the mall because it was too hot for the slacks he had on. Soon af
ter that, we had just said “Screw it” and had headed back to my hotel room. We all sat at the table and ate food from Maggiano’s. Something was on the TV, but the volume was down so low, we couldn’t hear it.
The mood around the table wasn’t as hostile as it had been when we first met. I actually spoke cordially to Demitri, and he did the same to me. After talking about politics and the fact that none of us wanted to vote for Hillary or Trump, the conversation moved back around to us and what Elliot expected of this threesome.
“I’d like us all to stop fronting now. We’ve hung out for two days, trying to pretend as if we don’t know what this is about,” he said. “I was up front with my intentions. I want the both of you at the same time.”
I laid my fork down, then wiped my mouth. Demitri cleared his throat, then sat back. Elliot had laid it out as a dictator would. Didn’t sound like we had the option to object.
Demitri said, “You’re telling us what you want, but what about what I want? What if I’m not even attracted to her?”
I chuckled. “Are you even attracted to women at all—”
Elliot cut in. “I already told you the answer to that.”
“Are you sure?” I asked him. “Because I’m getting more gay than bi. A bit amphierotic?”
Elliot frowned. I’d mentioned to him before that Demitri just might be gay. I remembered Elliot making a similar face and shaking his head. He’d said he didn’t even want to think about that. He had no desire to be in a relationship with a gay man.
“So because I don’t find you particularly attractive, I must be gay?” Demitri asked sarcastically, though it was more like a statement.
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Why don’t you be honest, Demitri? My dark skin offends you, doesn’t it? I’m not light skinned enough for you? Wait, no. I’m not a light-skinned Puerto Rican. Oh, but pause. I am a black Latina, but we all know you don’t like us darkies,” I said.
Yes, Elliot had told me about Demitri’s preference when it came to women. They had to be light, bright, damn near white, and he had particular affinity for lighter-skinned Latinas. While I considered myself black and only black, I figured I’d throw my father’s Cuban ancestry around to annoy the asshole.
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