by Naomi Chase
Brandon shrugged, tapping his cigar ashes into an ashtray. “She needed a new place to stay.”
“And how is that your responsibility? Last I checked, bruh, she’s not your wifey anymore.”
“I know that. I just wanted to do her a favor.”
Dre snorted. “You already did her a favor. You got her ass out of prison, which is probably more than she deserved. But that’s another topic for another day.”
Brandon scowled. “Yeah, please don’t start, ’cause I’m not trying to hear that shit tonight.”
“Of course you don’t wanna hear it,” Dre retorted. “You’ve got blinders on when it comes to Tamia. And I see you like living dangerously, too. Do you have any idea how Cynthia will react if she finds out that you dropped over a hundred grand on rent and furniture for your ex-girlfriend’s love nest?”
Brandon’s temper flared. “Damn, nigga, why the hell are you all up in my wallet? Are you my accountant or something? I’m a grown-ass man, so I can spend my money however the fuck I want.”
The two friends glowered at each other across the table.
“If it’s really like that,” Dre challenged, “then why all the secrecy? Why not tell Tamia that you’re the one paying for the apartment?”
“Because it’s not important,” Brandon growled. “If I told her, she’d feel like she owes me. And she doesn’t. I don’t want anything from her.”
Dre regarded him skeptically. “You don’t want anything from her.”
“That’s what I said.”
“So you didn’t get her the apartment because you still love her and you wanna take care of her? And you’re not planning to go over there and fuck her the first chance you get?”
Brandon took a long pull on his cigar, then blew out a stream of smoke on the word, “Nope.”
Dre scoffed. “Come on, B. This is me you’re talking to, remember? I’ve known you since we were eleven years old. So you can sit there all you want and tell yourself whatever makes you feel better. But don’t expect me to believe a word you’re saying, ’cause I know it’s pure bullshit.”
Clenching his jaw, Brandon glanced toward the entrance to the restaurant. He’d never been more relieved to see that Justin and Cornel had arrived. Maybe now Dre would shut the fuck up.
As if he’d read his mind, Dre frowned. “Let me just leave you with some food for thought.”
Brandon leveled a glare at him.
Dre glared right back. “Before you and Tamia pick up where you left off months ago, just remember how devastated you were when you found out that she’d been cheating on you. Remember how hurt and angry you felt—and then ask yourself whether you can justify doing the same thing to Cynthia.”
Chapter 9
Tamia
Brandon stood by the windows, his tall, muscular frame bathed in soft moonlight.
Dressed in spiky heels and nothing else, Tamia sauntered toward him as Kelly Rowland’s “Motivation” played seductively in the background.
Brandon turned and watched her, his hungry gaze getting her so aroused that the whisper of air against her naked flesh nearly made her come.
When she reached him, she cradled his face between her hands and kissed his succulent lips. He moaned softly and slid his hot, silky tongue into her mouth. She sucked him, savoring his taste and texture like a wine connoisseur.
From his mouth she kissed her way down to his hard chest, her tongue tracing the outline of his muscular pecs and abs as she sank to a crouch before him, her thighs spread wantonly open. Brandon stared as she reached down and stroked her swollen clit, coating her fingers with the sticky nectar dripping from her body.
“Let me taste you,” Brandon whispered.
She lifted her hand to his mouth, shivering as his lips closed around her fingers.
“Mmm,” he moaned appreciatively, sucking off her juices. “Damn, you taste good.”
“You missed this pussy?”
“You know I did.”
Tamia smiled with naughty satisfaction.
As his mouth reluctantly released her wet fingers, she grasped the waistband of his dark boxers. As she pulled the shorts down his powerful legs, her gaze was riveted by the hard, chocolate dick that sprang free. It was long and thick, blessed with a curved tip that discovered secret G-spots like a highly specialized homing device.
Raising her eyes to Brandon’s face, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft and eased all that delicious goodness into her mouth.
Brandon groaned, his eyes rolling closed as his head went back. “Shit, baby. That feels so good.”
She licked around and over the head of his cock, lubricating him with her saliva. He sank his hand into her hair, gripping the back of her head as she expertly deep-throated his ten inches.
“Ahhh,” he moaned with pleasure.
“You like that, baby?”
“Fuck, yeah.”
Suddenly Tamia felt a whisper of movement behind her. Pulling Brandon’s dick out of her mouth, she glanced over her shoulder.
Another lover had joined them.
He knelt behind Tamia, head bent as his hands roamed down her back and caressed the swell of her ass cheeks.
Her heart thudded with recognition.
“Dominic?” she breathed.
He lifted his head and grinned—that slow, wicked grin she remembered all too well.
“Welcome home, Mystique,” he whispered, then rammed into her.
Tamia bolted upright, the sound of her own scream echoing around the dark bedroom.
Her heart was slamming against her ribs, and sweat dampened her skin.
Swallowing hard, she glanced toward the moonlit windows, half expecting—hoping—to see Brandon standing there. But she was alone.
Frowning, she eased back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling.
She’d been having another one of her erotic dreams about Brandon. But tonight, for the first time, the dream had been invaded by Dominic.
Tamia exhaled a deep, shaky breath and closed her eyes.
Seconds later—unable to resist—she reached beneath the covers, parted her legs, and touched herself.
As usual, her pussy was drenched.
Biting her lower lip, she slid a finger into her wetness, first imagining it was Brandon’s dick ... then Dominic’s.
And then they were both inside her, one thrusting into her asshole while the other tore up her pussy.
Suddenly her cell phone went off.
Her eyes flew open, and she snatched her finger out of her body as if she’d just been caught masturbating by her grandmother.
Her cell rang again, a burst of sound in the silent room.
Frowning, she reached across the nightstand and picked up the phone, checking the caller ID.
Unknown number.
Who the hell is calling me at 2:45 in the morning? she wondered.
Pressing the talk button, she answered hesitantly, “Hello?”
There was no response.
“Hello?” she repeated.
Silence.
She pressed the phone to her ear, straining to listen. After several moments, she heard soft breathing on the other end.
She swallowed nervously, the fine hairs rising on the back of her neck. “Who is this?”
Still no answer.
Heart pounding erratically, she whispered, “Dominic?”
The line went dead.
Chapter 10
Tamia
It had been ten years since Tamia stepped through the hallowed doors of a church.
A decade ago, at the age of nineteen, she’d attended the funeral of her grandmother, who’d been robbed and brutally murdered by a home intruder who’d never been caught. As she’d stood weeping beside her beloved grandmother’s casket, Tamia had wondered how God could allow such an unspeakable tragedy to befall a woman who’d faithfully served Him all her life. Inconsolable with grief, she’d rejected the gentle platitudes of other mourners who’d told her, �
�Mama Esther’s in a better place now” and “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
A week after the funeral, she’d landed her first starring role in a porn video, becoming the masked dominatrix known as Mystique. After that, she saw no reason to continue attending church and worshipping a God who’d robbed her of the most important person in her life.
But while she was incarcerated, she’d begun dreaming about her grandmother. Sometimes Mama Esther would be rocking gently on the porch swing and knitting a blanket, or braiding Tamia’s hair. Other times she’d be stirring a pot of grits on the stove, or painting her fingernails as she hummed along to her favorite hymn. No matter how varied the dreams, they always ended with Mama Esther imploring Tamia to renew her faith and seek the Lord for deliverance. And Tamia always awakened with her grandmother’s name on her lips, her hand outstretched to empty air.
She began reading the Bible again, and during one of Shanell’s weekly visits, Tamia promised to attend church with her if God allowed her to get out of prison.
So there she was, seated beside Shanell and Mark as they listened to Joseph Yarbrough warn his congregation about the dangers of lust and sexual immorality.
Tamia had apparently chosen the wrong Sunday to make her return to church.
“The Bible tells us that those who sow to the flesh will not inherit the kingdom of God,” the bishop thundered from behind the pulpit, his theatrical baritone soaring to the roof. “Apostle Peter exhorts all believers to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against our very souls!”
Grimacing at the reminder of last night’s erotic dream, Tamia leaned over and whispered to Shanell, “Are you sure you didn’t tell him you were bringing me today?”
Shanell cracked up, earning a censorious look from an elderly woman seated in front of them.
As the bishop’s fiery sermon raged on, Tamia found herself gazing around the sanctuary, torn between awe and disgust. The enormous hall was equipped with plush upholstery, balcony seating, high-tech lighting, and three giant flat-screen televisions that flanked the large stage and projected Bishop Yarbrough’s image to every corner of the packed arena.
The powerhouse megachurch boasted 40,000 members that included high-profile athletes, entertainers, and politicians. That Sunday morning, the most prominent congregant in attendance was lieutenant governor Bernard Chambers, accompanied by his wife and eldest son. The impeccably attired couple enjoyed a special place of honor onstage behind the pulpit, while Brandon sat in the front row beside Cynthia, his arm draped casually over the back of her chair.
The sight of them together sent a dagger through Tamia’s heart. They looked like the quintessential buppies—educated, upwardly mobile, prosperous yet socially conscious. The kind of young black couple that donated to worthy causes, had tickets to the theater, and owned a tastefully furnished house in an upscale suburb.
Tamia would have preferred being waterboarded to watching her boo play house with another woman. It didn’t help that Cynthia seemed to be paying more attention to Brandon than her own father’s sermon. Every five minutes, she leaned close to Brandon and whispered something in his ear. Something that brought a slow, lazy smile to his mouth and left Tamia feeling less and less optimistic about her chances of getting him back.
And then came an unexpected ray of hope.
When Bishop Yarbrough cracked a joke that sent a wave of laughter through the congregation, Brandon casually glanced over his shoulder.
When he saw Tamia seated several rows back, his eyes widened with surprise.
As their gazes locked, Cynthia’s father exhorted loudly from the pulpit, “So I say unto you, my sons and brothers. Heed the words of Proverbs six, verses twenty-five through twenty-six: ‘Keep away from the immoral woman, from the smooth tongue of the wayward harlot. Do not lust in your heart after her beauty, or let her captivate you with her eyes. For the prostitute reduces you to a loaf of bread, and the adulteress preys upon your very life.’ ”
Brandon and Tamia stared at each other.
He winked.
She winked back.
As he returned his attention to the stage, Tamia kept watching him. When he discreetly removed his arm from the back of Cynthia’s chair, she wanted to jump up and dance in the aisles.
His subtle withdrawal didn’t go unnoticed by Cynthia, who regarded him quizzically before glancing over her shoulder.
When her gaze met Tamia’s, she frowned, eyes narrowing with displeasure.
Tamia shrugged as if to say, What can you do?
Cynthia glared at her, then angrily turned away.
Catching the entire exchange, Shanell shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Girl, you are a mess.”
“I know.” Tamia grinned broadly. “And God loves me anyway.”
After the service, while Mark excused himself to check the scores of today’s NFL games, Shanell insisted on waiting in the long receiving line to greet Bishop Yarbrough and the first lady.
As she and Tamia inched down the aisle, Tamia’s gaze followed Brandon around the bustling sanctuary. He and his father expertly worked the crowd—shaking hands, slapping backs, kissing babies, and conversing with Bernard’s constituents in an effort to shore up votes for next November’s election.
At one point, Brandon looked right over at Tamia and mouthed, Don’t go anywhere.
Delighted that he’d apparently been aware of her presence the entire time he’d been schmoozing, Tamia smiled and mouthed back, I won’t.
He grinned, flashing those sexy dimples.
Shanell looked from one to the other, then glanced heavenward and sighed. “This is gonna get so messy. Lord help us all.”
Tamia grinned at her. “Why do you need help?”
“Because I’m gonna get caught in the middle between you and Cynthia, and I’ll probably end up having to find another church home.”
“That might not be such a bad idea,” Tamia muttered.
Shanell arched a brow at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know.” Tamia gestured around the opulent sanctuary, her nose wrinkling with distaste. “This place just seems so over-the-top and fake.”
“You’re not feeling the megachurch experience, huh?”
“Not really.”
Shanell chuckled. “It takes some getting used to, I’ll admit. But Bishop Yarbrough knows how to preach the word. I always come away feeling like he was speaking directly to me.”
Tamia snorted. “Oh, I definitely felt like he was speaking to me. Every time he mentioned Jezebel, I swear he looked right at me.”
Shanell laughed, reaching inside her purse for a pack of peppermint gum. She offered a piece to Tamia before unwrapping one for herself.
Tamia folded the stick of gum into her mouth, then smiled softly at her friend. “Thank you.”
“For what? The gum? I’m the one whose breath was kinda tart.”
Tamia laughed. “Your breath was fine. And I wasn’t thanking you for the gum. I was thanking you for being supportive, and for not telling me to give up on Brandon. I know you and Cynthia are friends, so this whole situation has probably been pretty awkward for you.”
“It has,” Shanell admitted, smiling and waving at someone across the sanctuary. “I like Cynthia and I have a lot of respect for her. But you’re my girl, Tamia, so you know I got your back. Besides, Brandon was your man first. You deserve a second chance to make things right.” She gave Tamia a meaningful look. “As long as you don’t do anything crazy to get that brotha back.”
“I won’t,” Tamia vowed. “Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Good.”
As they moved up in line, Tamia observed Joseph and Coretta Yarbrough as they greeted their adoring congregants. The charismatic minister was tall, lean, and attractive, with a walnut complexion and a neatly groomed natural and mustache. In contrast, his wife was short and heavyset—homely in a way that no amount of professional makeup, expensive jewelry,
and designer clothes could disguise.
Tamia had already met the couple earlier that year at Bernard Chambers’s campaign launch party. They’d been coolly polite toward her because she was Brandon’s girlfriend, which interfered with their plans to marry their daughter off to him. Tamia knew they’d rejoiced in the streets when she and Brandon broke up, clearing the path for Cynthia.
When Tamia and Shanell finally reached the front of the line, Shanell hugged the Yarbroughs and told the bishop how much she’d enjoyed his sermon.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Sister Jasper.” Joseph’s dark gaze shifted to Tamia. “And what about you, Sister Luke? I hope you received God’s word today.”
Tamia forced a smile. “I did, thank you.”
“That’s good.” His answering smile was as sanctimonious as his next words. “I thank the Lord for using me as a vessel to shed light in the darkness of sinners’ souls.”
Being the sinner in question, Tamia had nothing to say.
He continued piously, “You should know that our congregation kept you lifted up in prayer throughout your incarceration. As the Bible says, ‘The prayers of the righteous availeth much.’ ”
“Thank you for your prayers,” Tamia said smoothly. “Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was represented by the best defense attorney in town.”
“Ah, yes,” Joseph agreed, exchanging proud glances with his beaming wife. “Our Brandon is a very gifted young man. Coretta and I look forward to welcoming him into our family, although he’s practically one of us already.”
Tamia’s heart sank at his words, which had obviously been his intent.
Before she could respond, Shanell gushed excitedly, “Oh, my goodness! Are congratulations in order, Bishop Yarbrough? Has Brandon proposed to Cynthia?”
The man’s smug smile wavered. “Well, not yet—”
“But we all know it’s only a matter of time,” his wife interjected haughtily.
Shanell grinned. “Well, please be sure to let the congregation know as soon as it’s official. I want to get them a really nice wedding gift, but I don’t want to spend my money until a wedding date’s been set.”
