by Naomi Chase
“Why not?”
“Because you need to take a shower. I can smell Tamia’s perfume all over you.” Cynthia eyed him suspiciously.
Guilt assailed Brandon at the memory of dancing with Tamia, grinding his dick against her juicy ass until he almost nutted in his pants.
Watching him carefully, Cynthia frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Brandon met her gaze. “Like what?”
Her frown deepened. “What, exactly, happened at that party?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Cynthia repeated skeptically.
“Yeah, baby. Nothing.”
They stared at each other, two lawyers trying to see who would back down first.
After several moments, Cynthia smirked at him. “Let me give you a word of advice, baby. The next time you want to seduce me, don’t come home smelling like your ex-girlfriend. Trust me, it’s an automatic mood killer.”
Brandon frowned. “Come on, Cynthia—”
“I’m serious, Brandon. No shower, no action.” She returned to her book, leaving no room for debate.
Sighing heavily, Brandon rose from the bed and made his way to the walk-in closet. He sniffed at his suit jacket, then inwardly groaned. Cynthia was right. He smelled like he’d spent the entire night in Tamia’s arms. Which wasn’t far from what he’d been tempted to do.
Grimacing, he removed his jacket, shirt, and pants, then set them aside to be dry-cleaned.
Unless Cynthia decided to burn them first.
When he emerged from the closet moments later, she didn’t even glance up from her book, though she’d never been able to resist the sight of his naked body. Despite his demanding schedule, he always made time to work out. The result of his efforts was a hard, muscular physique that turned female heads wherever he went.
Not now, though. He might as well have looked like Fat Albert, for all the attention Cynthia was paying him.
Damn, Brandon mused. My black ass is really in the doghouse!
He headed toward the master bathroom, then changed his mind and abruptly reversed direction. Cynthia’s eyes widened as he bore down on the bed, his jaw set determinedly.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You’re supposed to be taking a—”
“I will. We can shower together, after we’re both good and sweaty.”
She swallowed visibly. “Brandon—”
He bent and kissed her hard, silencing her protests. As she melted against him, he reached down and swept the book off her lap. It landed on the floor with a heavy thud.
He lowered himself to the bed, covering her body with his as he tugged off the T-shirt she wore, baring her breasts. They were small but plump, crowned with pretty chocolate nipples. He leaned down and flicked his tongue over one, then the other.
Cynthia groaned and arched her back, breasts thrusting upward in sensual invitation. He palmed them, pushed them together, and took both nipples into his mouth.
“Ummm,” Cynthia moaned with pleasure, eyes rolling closed.
When he’d finished sucking her tits, Brandon grasped the waistband of her skimpy boy shorts and eased them down her legs, revealing a narrow patch of black pubic hair. His dick throbbed at the sight of her fleshy lips glistening with arousal.
He draped her legs over his shoulders and lowered his head, then drew her clitoris into his mouth.
She let out a strangled cry as her hips arched off the bed.
Brandon nibbled and sucked her clit, then began eating her pussy as she writhed against him and grabbed fistfuls of the bedcovers. Within seconds she was climaxing, damn near suffocating him as her thighs squeezed his head.
After several moments, when her body had stopped bucking and trembling, she collapsed against the bed and exhaled a deep, shaky breath. “That was so unfair.”
Brandon chuckled, the sound muffled against her damp abdomen. “Don’t hate the playa, baby. Hate the game.”
She sputtered indignantly, swatting at his head.
He laughed, catching her wrists and pinning her arms above her head. She squirmed beneath him as he rose over her, settling his body between her thighs. Their stares locked, smiles dissolving as their mouths met in a deep, carnal kiss flavored with Cynthia’s juices.
With his free hand, Brandon reached down and wrapped his fingers around his hard dick. As he began stroking himself, Cynthia ground her hips against him, urging him to take what was his. When he’d teased her enough, he guided his shaft to her slick opening.
“I’m going commando,” he told her, because he didn’t want to stop the flow to retrieve a condom. “That all right?”
Cynthia nodded quickly. “You’re good, soldier.”
The words had barely passed her lips before Brandon thrust into her, burying himself deep. They both groaned with pleasure.
He looked downward, watching himself slide out of her, then slowly back inside. Cynthia moaned and tugged at her captured wrists. As soon as Brandon released her, she grabbed his ass, fingernails digging into his skin. He began pumping into her with long, deep strokes that she met with hungry thrusts of her own.
“Damn, woman,” he whispered, sweat collecting on his forehead. “You feel good.”
“So do you, baby,” she breathed, licking at his lips. “You’re banging the hell outta my spot.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Should I stop?” he teased.
“You’d better not!”
His laughter dissolved into a groan as she tightened her thighs around him, locking him into place. As he closed his eyes and pounded her pussy, the force of his thrusts made the bed frame shudder and sent Cynthia’s books bouncing across the mattress.
Reopening his eyes, he gazed down at Cynthia. One moment he was looking at her small breasts bouncing up and down. A moment later the image changed to big, luscious tits with dark caramel nipples pointed straight toward him.
Shit! Brandon thought, squeezing his eyes shut again as he tried to block out the familiar vision of Tamia’s breasts. But the more he tried not to think about them, the more he wanted to lick and suck them. When he leaned down and wrapped his mouth around Cynthia’s nipple, she moaned with pleasure. But it was Tamia’s throaty purr he heard, Tamia’s hot pussy he was drilling like a piston.
Seconds later Cynthia screamed in ecstasy as he exploded inside her, his dick spurting violently, another woman’s name nearly spilling from his lips. He clenched his jaw, head thrown back, arms trembling as they supported his weight. He felt Cynthia’s chest heaving beneath his as they both gasped for air.
After several moments he collapsed beside her on the bed. She sighed contentedly and rolled onto her side, facing him with a satiated smile. Ignoring a sharp pang of guilt, he gathered her into his arms, enjoying the dampness of her skin pressed against him.
Hooking one leg across his hip, she murmured, “I love the way you feel inside me.”
Brandon smiled. “Good, ’cause I love being inside you. Speaking of which, are you ready to take round two to the shower?”
She laughed. “In a minute. I need to catch my breath first.”
He grinned, stroking her thigh. “Can’t hang, huh?”
“Oh, don’t even try it. You know I can hang.”
“No doubt,” Brandon agreed.
Who would have guessed that beneath her prim and proper demeanor, Cynthia was a straight-up freak who could get down and dirty with the best of them? He’d certainly never suspected. But he should have. After all, she was a pastor’s kid.
At the thought of Joseph Yarbrough, Brandon casually asked, “Does your old man still have a problem with us living together?”
Startled, Cynthia stared at him. “Where’d that come from?”
Brandon shrugged. “I’m just wondering.”
“Are you serious? You just fucked my brains out, and all of a sudden you’re wondering what my father thinks of us shacking up?”
“Well ... yeah.”
Cynthia chuckled, shaking her head at him. “Way to kill the mood, bringing up my father after sex.”
Brandon grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“You should be. Now you’re gonna have to work extra hard just to get me back in the mood.”
“That’s cool,” Brandon drawled, letting his fingers wander between her legs. “I like working hard.”
“And you’re so good at it, too. But to answer your question”—Cynthia shivered as he strummed her clit—“no, my dad isn’t too crazy about our living arrangement. He thinks we should—” She broke off with a gasp as Brandon slipped his middle finger inside her.
“He thinks we should what?”
Cynthia groaned, closing her eyes as he stroked her pussy. “N-Nothing, baby. It’s not important.”
But Brandon knew what she’d been about to say. Their parents had made no secret of the fact that they wanted the two of them to get married. Brandon had resisted the idea for years, telling himself that he and Cynthia were better off as friends. But everything had changed, and he now realized how special she was. But was she special enough to—
“Brandon?” Cynthia purred, interrupting his thoughts.
He met her eyes. “Yeah, baby?”
She smiled wickedly. “I’m ready for round two.”
Chapter 5
Fiona
Later that morning, Fiona Powell was awakened by the sound of voices outside her bedroom. Opening her eyes, she peered groggily at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was 8:26 a.m.
Frowning, she rolled over in bed, encountering the muscled warmth of a man’s naked body. She eyed him blankly for a moment, trying to remember who he was and how he’d gotten there.
As a kaleidoscope of images flashed through her mind, the memories came rushing back. Last night she’d driven to a popular downtown club hoping to crash Tamia’s homecoming party. But she’d been turned away at the front entrance by a big, beefy bouncer who’d checked the clipboard in his hand and informed her that she’d been placed on a “Do Not Enter” list, as if she were some fucking terrorist.
Enraged and humiliated, Fiona had cussed the dude out before taking her ass to another club, where she’d hooked up with a sexy, caramel-toned brother who’d bought her drinks and shared his weed. They’d worked it out on the dance floor, then returned to her house for a serious fuckathon that had lasted into the wee hours of the morning.
Since Fiona didn’t have any appointments scheduled until noon, she’d hoped to sleep in late.
So much for that idea.
Hearing the shuffle of heavy footsteps in the hallway, she frowned and jumped out of bed, naked breasts bouncing. She snatched her panties off the floor and tugged them on, then strode to her closet and grabbed her robe.
“What’s going on?” came a drowsy mumble from the bed.
“Nothing.” What the hell is his name again? “Go back to sleep.”
He did just that, pulling the covers over his head as Fiona quickly left the room and started down the short hallway.
When she reached the living room, she was stunned to encounter bare walls, windows without curtains, and missing furniture. As she stood there gaping around, two young Hispanic guys strolled into the house, walked over to the remaining sofa, and lifted it onto their shoulders.
“Hey!” Fiona yelled, rushing over to them. “What the fuck do y’all think you’re doing?”
They stared at her with confused expressions.
“What? Y’all motherfuckers don’t speak English? That’s my shit you’re stealing!”
“Actually,” a voice said coolly, “it’s mine.”
Fiona whirled toward the front door.
Tamia sauntered into the house looking like she’d just stepped off the set of a BET music video. Her long bob was swinging, and she wore a pair of designer sunglasses, skintight jeans, and strappy stiletto sandals.
Fiona glared at her. “What the hell’s going on, Tamia?”
“What the hell does it look like? I’m moving out, and I’m taking my shit with me.”
“What?” Fiona exclaimed in shock. “You didn’t tell me you were moving!”
“I just did.” Tamia signaled to the two men, who carried the sofa out the front door.
“Wait a minute!” Fiona protested vehemently. “They can’t take that!”
“Says who?” Tamia countered. “I’m the one who bought that sofa, not you. Matter of fact, I bought practically everything in this damn house. Which is why I’m taking everything with me.”
Fiona stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think I stuttered,” Tamia said coldly, pushing her sunglasses off her face as she started across the room. “But since your stank ass is obviously high or hung over, let me make myself clearer. When I leave this house today, everything that belongs to me is going with me.”
Fiona panicked. “You can’t do that!”
“Oh, yeah?” Tamia challenged, advancing on Fiona until their faces were separated by mere inches. “Who’s gonna stop me?”
Fiona swallowed hard as something like fear crept over her. “Don’t move out, Tam-Tam,” she said plaintively. “Stay here with me. It’ll be like old times again.”
Tamia eyed her incredulously. “Are you out of your fucking mind? How can you even open your mouth to say some outrageous shit like that to me? You let me take the fall for a crime you committed! After everything I’ve done for you, you were willing to let me spend the rest of my life rotting in prison. As if that weren’t fucked up enough, you threatened to have me killed if I told anyone the truth about what really happened! Do you have any idea what the past five months were like for me? Constantly looking over my shoulder, sleeping with one eye open, inspecting my food, wondering which of those crazy bitches would walk up to me one day and shank my ass because my own sister told them to. And now you have the audacity to stand there and talk to me about old times? It will never be like old times again, Fiona! Do you hear me? NEVER!”
Guilt assailed Fiona, bringing tears to her eyes. “I never meant to—”
“Save your fucking apology,” Tamia snarled furiously. “Nothing you can say will ever make up for the way you betrayed me. So, yeah, bitch. I’m taking all the furniture, linens, pots and pans, silverware—every damn thing that I bought with my hard-earned money. And I wish you would try to stop me.”
Fiona gulped hard, blinking back tears. “Fine,” she mumbled. “Be that way.”
“I will, fuck you very much.”
Fiona hesitated, then couldn’t resist adding snidely, “It’s not like I can’t replace everything. I make good money now.”
Tamia smirked. “Only because Brandon asked his brother to hire you as a favor to me. But how long do you think you’d keep that job if they found out that you killed Isabel Archer?”
Stricken, Fiona stared at Tamia. “You wouldn’t.”
“Maybe I would.”
“But you promised not to!”
“Maybe I’ve had a change of heart.” Tamia jabbed an accusing finger at Fiona. “You killed a woman for no reason. We both know your psycho ass should be locked up, not working at one of the top sports agencies in the country. My conscience has been bothering me for months. So maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and decide it’s my civic duty to turn you over to the police, like I should have in the first place.”
The blood drained from Fiona’s head. She couldn’t go back to jail. She’d rather die than see the inside of another prison cell. “You promised,” she whispered.
A malicious gleam filled Tamia’s eyes. “Some promises are meant to be broken.”
Fiona’s heart thudded. “If you tell—”
“You’ll do what? Put out a hit on me? Do what you gotta do.” Tamia leaned closer, eyes narrowed menacingly. “But you’d better make damn sure the motherfucker gets the job done. ’Cause if I’m still standing when the dust settles, I’m coming for you. And when I get through with your black ass, you’ll wis
h you’d never met me.”
Shaking from the inside out, Fiona watched as Tamia slid her sunglasses over her eyes and smiled coldly, then turned and headed toward the door.
Fiona knew she should just let her leave. But she couldn’t—not when there was a chance that Tamia would walk out that door and go straight to the police.
“What about Brandon?” Fiona blurted desperately.
Tamia stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “What about him?”
“He broke up with you because of all the lies you told him. How do you think he’s going to feel when he finds out that you sat by and let him defend you in court when you knew all along who the real killer was? Even if you try to explain that you were just trying to protect me, he’ll see it as one more lie you told him. And he’ll never trust you again, let alone take you back.”
Tamia turned slowly around.
Sensing that she’d gained the upper hand, Fiona smiled tauntingly. “Isn’t that what you want? To get your man back? Haven’t you spent all these months plotting how to take him away from Cynthia? Haven’t you tortured yourself thinking about him going home to her every night, eating her pussy, fucking her doggy style the way he used to fuck you?”
When Tamia said nothing, Fiona laughed. “I know you have. And I also know you have every reason to worry about Brandon and Cynthia. They’re getting serious about each other. So serious that their parents have started planning their wedding.” Fiona paused, watching with satisfaction as the corners of Tamia’s mouth tightened. She’d gotten under her skin. Good.
“If you want one last shot at getting Brandon back,” Fiona warned coolly, “you’d better keep your damn mouth shut about what really happened that night.”
Tamia regarded her in silence for several moments, then slowly retraced her steps across the room. When she and Fiona stood face-to-face, Tamia asked very calmly, “Are you finished?”
Fiona’s chin lifted in defiance. “Actually—”
Quick as a striking snake, Tamia backhanded her across the face.
Pain exploded inside Fiona’s head as she fell backward, landing hard on the floor. As another burst of pain shot up her spine, tears spurted from her eyes. She brought a hand to her burning cheek and stared up at her sister with a look of wounded disbelief.
