I had my own problems to deal with. I stood, then pranced away. Not a single word surfacing in my head, if it had escaped my mouth, would’ve kept my sister from making good on her promise to beat my ass.
Devereaux knew not to let my one-hundred-fifty-pound, five-eight, size eight, give her the wrong impression. I could and would fight a female.
Sis hadn’t forgotten. I was sure of it.
CHAPTER 13
Benjamin
“Hey, Mr. Bannister,” my kids’ teacher jovially greeted. “Your wife picked up the twins early today. How are you?”
Whatever game my wife was playing, I wasn’t going to become her foe. Not wanting my marital issues to become apparent, I matched the teacher’s enthusiasm with a smile. Thumping my palm to my forehead, I lied, “That’s right. I forgot she was picking them up,” then checked my cell. No new messages from Mercedes.
Bright eyes beamed as the teacher kept watching me.
“Oh, I’m great. How long ago did she leave?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she said with a cute tilt of her head.
I was the parent, not her student. Had no interest in apologizing for not minding my manners at the moment. I explained, “I have a lot on my mind. How long?”
“It’s okay. About an hour ago. Oh, I mentioned to her Brandon’s grades are starting to decline. Just a little but we should address it now. Enjoy the rest of your day,” she said cheerfully, then redirected her attention to a kid tapping on her thigh. “Hey, sweetie. Next time say, ‘excuse me.’ ”
Getting in my car, I typed, Where are you?
Deleting the text, I decided it was best to confront her in person. I headed to the strip club hoping to see Toya “You Ain’t No Real Detective” Johnson. Hadn’t heard from her since I’d left her house. If she knew so much, she’d know I was on my way.
Entering the half-full room, I was relieved and pissed at the same time. Toya was at the bar, laughing over her copper mug. The bartender was equally as loud with his ha-has. The seat to her right, which I’d vacated to do my fatherly duty, was occupied by some young dude.
I posted up on her left, greeted Toya, “What’s up?”
“You saw her?” she asked.
This was not fuck-with-Benjamin-Bannister day. Sternly, I asked, “Saw whom?”
“Your wife? I thought you’d run into her at the school.”
Squinting, I stared at Toya. “Your timing was off. All the way off. How was I supposed to know if you didn’t give me a heads up?”
“Oh, you missed her. I wanted you to be surprised. She’s at home now.”
“You’re fired,” I said.
Toya snapped her fingers twice. “No problem. Cash me out.”
Her palm was two inches in front of my chin. I wanted to bite off her pinkie. How the fuck she and her wife gon’ freak me now Toya was acting all fresh? The bartender handed me a cognac.
“On the house, man,” he said.
“Thanks.” I dug into my pocket for the last time.
The bartender added, “You need to step back from Toya, bruh, and pay her. You not coming up in here and doing what you’re not man enough to do in your house. If I come from behind this counter, I ain’t asking and I’m not telling you twice. Show some respect.” He never raised his voice.
Toya was real chill. “The threesome encore still stands. No charge.”
It was five hundred a month, not a week. Didn’t need any problems like I’d heard about my boy Phoenix. I put my drink on the bar, tossed five C-notes on the counter, then exited to the parking lot. Had to sit in my car for a moment to regroup. What the hell was I doing? It wasn’t the information Toya gave me about Mercedes that made me angry. It was what she wasn’t saying. Driving to my other house, I kept going until I reached my preferred destination.
Walking up her steps, I dialed Arizona.
Opening the door before I put my key in the hole, she said. “Hey, I saw you pull up. Perfect timing. I just finished cooking for myself. I’ll blacken a breast for you. Won’t take long, baby.”
The biggest smile, accompanied by a warm, inviting hug and a passionate kiss, greeted me. She held me close. The aroma of sandalwood oil and sage filled the living area. I inhaled the lingering scent of Tori Burch behind her ear. Appreciated the way she stayed presentable. That was why I’d started taking her out more than I did my wife.
Mercedes had a long list of reasons for why we couldn’t go to dinner, see a movie, or hang out and listen to jazz on a Sunday afternoon. It was too late notice to ask any of her sisters to watch the twins, or she didn’t feel like doing her hair, makeup, changing her clothes. Let some other man deal with her after our divorce was final.
“I miss you, Ben. Haven’t heard from you in a few days. Are you okay?” Arizona asked.
Not “Is everything okay?” No Q&A marathon, interrogation, or backlash. My mistress inquired about me. Why couldn’t my wife care about me this way?
“I’m good, babe. Needed to spend time with my kids. Brandon’s grades are slipping.”
Nodding, she became quiet. I kissed her lips, then trailed her to the kitchen.
“I know. You don’t want to meet my kids.”
“Yet,” she said. “You served her the papers?”
“Not yet. But I will.” Maybe. It wasn’t that simple. I was in position to stay with Mercedes or move in with Arizona. I was practically living here.
“I’m not going to be your mistress forever. It’s time for you to take care of me full-time. And make sure you ask for every other weekend with your kids. I love you.” She added, “After dinner we can soak in the tub and catch up.” What she said about my family never bothered me. Her voice was soothing.
“I love you, too.” Even with her demands, Arizona was easygoing.
Her standards dictated no intercourse before engagement. I had similar restrictions, so I didn’t mind not fucking her long as she got me off. Dinner was nicely presented as always. Baked chicken for her, blackened for me, mashed potatoes, and spinach. Shitake mushrooms, her favorite, topped everything.
“How was your day?” she asked, smiling.
Staring at her pretty dark chocolate skin, I ate a forkful of everything on my plate. Toned biceps, firm thighs, a tight butt, and a flat stomach with vertical and horizontal definition were one-hundred-percent natural. Her eyes shined with joy one couldn’t fake.
I mumbled, “This is delicious, babe,” then replied, “Interesting,” wondering what my wife was doing with her new vagina. I should go home.
Arizona picked up my plate. “I can see you’re not hungry.” Resting her hand on my shoulder, she said, “I want our own children. I’m not raising hers. Don’t respond. I’ll put your plate in the microwave in case you feel like eating later.”
I’d kept a vow not taken at the altar. A value instilled in me as a young man would not be broken; long as I wore my wedding band, I’d never stick my dick in another woman’s vagina. Unless I was positive my marriage was over, I was not risking fathering an illegitimate child. Arizona enjoyed my company, conversation, and we were content with fondling and oral copulation.
I checked my cell. No texts or missed calls from Mercedes. What was she doing with her newfound womanhood? Was another man at my house with my children? Was she on a date?
I made my way to the bathroom and removed my clothes. Settling into the hot steamy water eased the tension in my body, but not my mind. Fuck! I punched the suds. This shit wasn’t right.
Arizona entered. “You need a vacation. What do you think about our going to Italy for two weeks? My treat and I can make all of the arrangements,” she suggested.
This woman deserved a man worthy of her unselfishness. “Let me know the dates. I’ll check my schedule,” I said, knowing I wasn’t going but not wanting to reject her idea.
Why shouldn’t I go? My wife didn’t want me. Arizona had my pertinent travel info from prior trips. I needed to hand my wife those papers and stop holding on to dis
appointment.
“Let’s do it,” I said, leaning my head back on the tub pillow.
Despite all that had happened in my marriage, I loved my kids. And much as I wanted to deny it, I was in love with my wife. Otherwise, I would’ve made this situation with Arizona permanent.
Getting out of the tub, I dried off, then said, “I have to make a run. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Sure. Let yourself in. I might be asleep,” she said, stepping into the tub.
Arizona was different from every woman I’d dated. She never raised her voice. Not once. I’d never seen her mad or even upset. Whatever I suggested or did was okay with her.
I parked in my driveway, as my wife’s car was in the garage. I quietly entered my house. The only light came from our bedroom. After tiptoeing upstairs, I pushed the door.
Mercedes lifted her head. She looked at me, turned her back, then rested on the pillow.
I removed my clothes. Sat on my side of the bed. “First you disappear for several days. You couldn’t tell me you were picking up the kids?” I asked.
“I do not owe you anything. Not even an explanation. They’re my kids too.”
My wife looked beautiful. Her radiant light skin was flawless. The scarf tied around the edges of her hair was silky soft. Blood flowed to my dick. Sliding under the cover, I got close. Poked her with the hardest erection I’d had in months.
Mercedes scooted to the edge. If she sneezed, she’d fall to the floor. “Save it for your mistress.”
“Can we just talk? I don’t want to continue living this way,” I pleaded.
“And I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my bed, out of my bedroom, and out of my house. But we don’t always get what we want, do we, Benjamin?”
If I went back to Arizona’s tonight, this would be the night I’d leave my ring on the nightstand and make love to every part of my mistress.
My wife was hurting and I was partially to blame. Rolling onto my side, I tucked the pillow underneath my head and shoulder. Hopefully, Mercedes would have a change of heart come morning. I closed my eyes.
* * *
“Oh, my, God . . . Yes.”
At first I thought I was dreaming.
“Haa. Haa. Haa. Haa.” Her sharp moaning became louder each time she exhaled.
Who was this woman with her hand between her legs, her knees bent and spread wide? I turned on the light. She closed her eyes, continued stroking her clit.
I sat at the foot of our bed, stared between her thighs. My tongue and dick hardened. Saliva coated the inside of my mouth. I could almost taste her.
Her breaths grew closer together. The pace of her middle finger rotating in tiny circles stopped.
What? No. Keep going.
My dick could not be denied. I started jacking off.
Her hand cupped her vulva. Tightly, she pressed her thighs together until her hand disappeared. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Stared at me. I released my dick to let her see his standing ovation and how much he wanted her.
Gradually, she parted her legs. Her pink pussy was prettier, plumper. My chest heaved with anticipation of discovering if my shit was tighter.
As she curled her pointing finger at me, not wanting to appear desperate, I touched her ankles. She closed her eyes. She wanted me to take her. My dick was so damn hard. I didn’t want to hurt her.
I stroked myself. About to bust, I had to massage the opening of her vagina with my precum. She was hot. Wet . . . and damn!
“Are you serious?” I whispered, ejaculating sooner than I’d wanted.
My wife’s pussy was so tight, my head could not get in
CHAPTER 14
Blake
Bing picked up his cell off the nightstand. My phone stayed at the bottom of my purse all day yesterday and this morning.
“Sweetheart, change of plans. We have to depart tomorrow. I have an urgent meeting in Charlotte that I have to conduct in person.”
Making my fiancé feel bad about putting a beautiful engagement ring on my finger was never my intent. We’d been at his chateau an extra day of the three we’d agreed upon. To maintain harmony, I extended a tear-dropping apology-essentially for being myself. Small effort to exert in exchange for peace.
“Today?” I repeated. My tone was absent of excitement yet underneath I was thrilled. Our naked bodies intertwined, arms cuddling, legs overlapping.
Bing gently tucked my hair behind my ear. Kissing my forehead, temple, cheek, chin, opposite cheek, nose, he navigated his way to my breasts, then sucked my nipple. I took a deep breath, rubbed my fingers through his slick hair.
“You e-mailed your boss your resignation?” he asked, peeling away the white sheet from our bodies.
I let him know, “I’m going to request an additional week off for a family emergency,” wanting to tell him, I may not be a billionaire but I fought years for my banking position at corporate in Charlotte. He owned an empire. He knew etiquette was more about being able to get rehired Resigning through an e-mail was unprofessional and not how I was going out, if I was leaving.
“If you have to lie to keep a job, is it worth it? I need for you to stand up for yourself, sweetheart.”
For myself or for him? This time I kissed him. “I love you. I’m not you.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s us. We are a team. One. Remember that I’ll never suggest anything that’s bad for you. I’ve been following our girls on social media. Alexis and Mercedes would be a perfect fit for Bing Sterling Enterprises. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Our girls? Alexis? When hell froze over! No reply warranted. My daughters were not his until my last name was the same as his.
He headed toward the kitchen. “Mimosa? You hungry?” he asked.
Struggling to let this man lead me, if it was going to be, he was the right guy to set the pace. “Yes. Yes. Please and thanks.” Needing a damn drink, I dug into my purse, powered on my cell, group messaged my girls, Bing and I are heading back to Charlotte from Paris tomorrow, went to the bathroom, emptied my bladder, then squatted over the bidet.
I joined him near the refrigerator, pressed my breasts against his back as he placed his cell on speaker then ordered, “Top of the morning, Chef! Let us have eggs Benedict, fresh lump crabmeat, shrimp cocktail, caviar, and foie gras.” Facing me he asked, “Did I miss anything, sweetheart?”
Fresh cut pineapples and mangos were standard. Most of what was being prepared would not be consumed. Neither of us ate much. No need to be extra wasteful. “That covers it.”
“That’ll do. I appreciate you, Chef,” he said, ending the call. Bing mixed two mimosas, handed me one. “A toast to our love.”
I tapped my flute to his, followed him outside on the balcony. I was going to miss this view. What would it have been like to share this moment with Spencer? He was the first guy to make me squirt. Bing was the second. I missed Spencer’s youthfulness, not his lies and deception.
Bing was the intellectually clear choice for me. Spencer tapped into an uncensored side of me, making me feel whatever I wanted to do wouldn’t be judged.
“Why the sudden change of plans, babe?” I inquired, tilting my face to the sun. From my vagina to the crack of my butt, this was truly the first even tan I’d had.
“North Carolina just passed a law that allows discrimination against the LGBTQ community. I’m withdrawing my project to break ground on twelve new restaurants. I can’t support an economy that legally discriminates against anyone. If you truly love and want to be my wife, I hope you feel the same.”
Wow. Alexis would love to operate a restaurant chain. I wouldn’t approve of her doing so for Bing. He’d have to be in constant contact with her. Mercedes was a better fit.
Knowing my fiancé, legally was the operative word. We understood that biases and racism were prevalent everywhere.
“I agree with you, but there are LGBTQ people in North Carolina that were depending on your jobs. What about them?”
“Strike two,” he
said, then entered the French doors.
As I trailed him, Bing looked at me. “Blake, I love you but I can’t marry a woman who doesn’t understand the significance of economic power. The NBA has pulled the plug on their All-Star Game. Moved it to New Orleans. Maybe Louisiana is where I’ll open my establishments. When North Carolina goes bankrupt, businesses fold, companies pull out, conferences cancel, tourists vacation elsewhere, and residents relocate, North Carolina will sink or die trying to stay afloat. Either way, I will not be the one throwing a life preserver to anyone who takes pride in emotionally lynching innocent people.”
Hold up. Rewind. Strike what? Honestly, I didn’t realize Bing was deeply passionate about human rights. Now wasn’t a good time to reveal that I had a deep, dark secret that would bond us closer or rip us apart. Had to speak with my sister Ruby soon.
This was not the time for a pissing match. “I’ll send the e-mail today,” I said, not wanting to lose the first man who volunteered to be a father figure to my children.
“Obviously, you need time to think this through. Come wash my back for me,” he said, heading to the bathroom.
Bing had earned the right to have the best. I was starting to see that included the woman who’d take his last name. No need to inquire about brunch getting cold. His chef would re-prepare everything upon notice.
If I refused to wash his back, would that be strike three?
Facing me in the spacious Jacuzzi, he asked, “Is the water to your liking?”
Lathering a sponge, I straddled him, wrapped my legs around his waist. “Yes, it is,” I replied, squeezing avocado oil body wash on a loofah. Gently I scrubbed while moving my hips in a circular motion.
He reached around me, stroked my back. “This is how I want our marriage to be. You wash my back. I do the same for you. Two people with the same goals can accomplish more than one who worked twice as hard. I need a woman in my life. I want you to be my wife. We’ll be okay,” he said, holding me close.
Tears streamed from my eyes. Was this how married couples vibe? I struggled to let go of being the strong, black, do-it-all-by-myself woman.
The One I've Waited For Page 9
