Thick Cut

by S London

  "Yeah, I think she is too." I place a hand on her hip.

  She starts to laugh. "You haven't read a word. She might be a complete lunatic who’s a basket case and doesn't realize it. Men can probably see crazy stamped on her forehead. That's probably why she’s single."

  I add my own take on Fiona’s situation. "She’s single because she's waiting on the right guy. She’s an accomplished, talented, and beautiful black woman. Whether she knows it or not."

  "Do you pile on this thick for the white girls?" she teases. I know she’s dated men of all races. I’ve done the same with women. For me it’s all about connection; not color, class, or creed-whatever the fuck that means.

  "If this is your way of keeping me in the friend zone: fuck that."

  I grip her knees, pulling them apart until her damp sex fills my vision. “So you got jokes?”

  She gives me a wink. "There’s a time for distraction and retraction. This isn’t it."

  "Well, how about you come back to bed and I'll deliver the punchline?"

  "I could do that."

  "What about your story?"

  "I've been working on it the whole year, it can wait another night."

  "I majored in English. I can read it. Be your freelance editor."

  She tilts her head, and I see the carefree woman who seduced me one word at a time. "What's your fee?"

  I tweak her nose. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

  “Oh no you don't.” She grins. “I actually have plans in the morning.”

  “So do I.”

  “How about I take you for a spin on my hot rod?”

  “I’m well acquainted with your rod, Mr. Phillips. What else do you have for me?”

  "Oh, I can think of a few payment options. I'm sure I can negotiate a favorable term."

  "Oh, you’d better negotiate the hell out of it."

  I come to stand over her. “Post our pic to your page.”

  She reaches for her phone but then pauses. “Why?”

  And there it is, the question that when answered will change everything.

  “Because you’re mine,” I growl. “Now, show them.” All those fuckers out there whacking off to my girl, stops today.

  Relief sweeps through me when she hits post.

  “Happy?” she asks, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “Yes. You?”

  “I am, Teddy,” she whispers.

  I wrap my hand around her neck and pull her up for a kiss. She’s sucking and tugging on my lips. I stroke her tongue with my own and she moves her mouth over mine until she can suck me deeper into her oral assault, tasting and biting. Breaking the kiss, I give her what she wants.

  Stepping back I grip my dick, brushing her lips with the head.

  “Open your mouth, little Fiona.” The minute I spy her pink tongue, I start feeding her my thick, hard cock. I don’t stop till I’ve spent in her mouth and her chin is covered with my milky white flow. Afterward, I’m panting and drenched in sweat. She looks up at me, a devilish grin on her face.

  Fuck, I love this woman.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Griffin is a primitive fucking beast and my pussy pilgrimage is officially in need of a Spring Break. Yeah, I know it’s Fall, but slutting is hard on the lady lips. It’s Friday evening and my pussy is poolside, topless, and snoring with a bad case of sleep apnea. My body is at a waterfront estate hidden in a tropical garden on the Halifax River. The chapel on the property is a white clapboard structure with a single steeple and a bell tower. The interior is bright and airy with a rear courtyard that opens onto a private beach. It’s a perfect for a princess wedding.

  “Fiona, where have you been?”

  That's Lucy playing “Mama Bear.” At forty-six, she's the oldest in the group with a thirty-year-old daughter of her own. Today's the wedding rehearsal and it’s the first time I've seen all of my girlfriends since I landed the previous day.

  Griffin kept me in bed all night and half the morning, and though my sex feels like I ran a marathon with not a day of training, I don't have one complaint. It took maybe twenty minutes to reach the wedding location from Griffin's place.

  It would've been too weird to invite him to meet my friends, so I declined his offer to drive me where I needed to go. My brain tells me this weekend with Griffin is an oasis. Sunday I’ll leave, and these feelings of connection and love—I know I'm crazy for uttering the word—will vanish.

  Of course, Mandy speaks before I do.

  "While the rest of us are here at the wedding, Miss Thang is living out her dream of a ho-cation."

  Deja looks at me with wide eyes. "Did you meet someone?" It pains me to hear the hope in her voice. Deja and Tynisha are absolutely the hopeless romantics of the five of us. The skeptic in me finds herself standing on the border ready to join hands with these two saps.

  “Yeah,” I say, not making eye contact.

  Mandy gives an obvious smirk. "Don’t you check your own damn website? She met Griffin on our dating app, Deja. She’s staying with him and posting pictures and shit."

  So, Mandy had seen that. I think I’m blushing.

  Just then, the side entrance to the chapel opens. In walks Truxton, his male aggression crushing through the tranquil space. He's leading a handsome man duo. Both are Ironman™ sexy, yet quite different in appearance.

  I can hear a collective inhale. It is a gorgeous display of masculinity.

  "Dayumm," Mandy whispers. "Fiona, I might need some ho tips."

  With a glare over my shoulder, I call. “Kiss my happy ho-ing behind, Mandy. You the one who gave us all lube and condoms last Christmas.”

  First, there's Truxton with his Caribbean blue eyes, lean runner's body, and tanned skin. Dressed in a white button-down, relaxed jeans, and a man-in-love smile, I grin up at him. His dark hair has more gray at the temple than I remember. Ty leaving him at the altar three years ago probably has something to do with his distinguished look.

  "Hello, SSU ladies. I want you all to meet two groomsmen for tomorrow. Deja, you remember my cousin, Hatcher."

  Hatcher Jacobs is tall, blond, broad-shouldered, and brooding. Skin is tanned, but for some reason, darkness radiates from this man.

  I watch as my confident, congenial friend, goes stiff as a board. What the hell? Did something happen between Deja and Hatcher that I missed?

  "It's good to see you all again," Hatcher says, but he only has eyes for Deja.

  "Kiss my ass, Hatch," Deja says, her voice a literal growl.

  Alrighty then. Something definitely happened there.

  Hatcher’s deep chuckle reaches to the rafters, but not his eyes. “Give me an hour. And this time, tell your girlfriend that we’re fucking.”

  Outside, the roar of rolling waves stops.

  Deja gasps, but quickly recovers. “I explained the situation to you,” she snaps.

  Everyone in the chapel freezes.

  Personally, I can’t unhear the girls and guys kissing Deja’s ass cheeks comments. Clearly, I missed some SSU gossip. But, on the flip side; no this fucker did not just try to out my girl’s business.

  “Deja,” Mandy calls, “I got rope, a ball gag, and a baton in the trunk of my rental car. Cause clearly, he want his ass beat.”

  Hatcher has my friend engaged in a staring contest, and I feel the intense emotions rolling off the couple in waves.

  Without cracking a smile, he responds. “Deja knows how to shut me up.”

  Truxton winces and rubs at the lines creasing his forehead. “Shit, Hatch. Your ass is not getting no more introductions this entire weekend.”

  Someone is definitely getting into someone’s ass tonight.

  The second guy is a former Army Ranger named Knox. He seems quiet, but his eyes are watchful as if he's anticipating an attack at any moment. Truxton informs us Knox will escort Siah.

  He extends his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Siah."

  A hint of an accent hangs on the first syllable of his words. It's a blend of stre
et Bronx and maybe, the Far East. On closer look, his dark hair, though close-cropped is needle straight and his eyes are rich with the colors of black jade and smoke. Hello, Keanu Reeves.

  Siah is unusually blank today. She returns the gesture, but she's not making eye contact. Something is obviously wrong, but with Siah, pushing will only prolong the silence. I swear she's likes 008 with her secrets. When Knox continues to hold her hand, her eyes shoot to his.

  "Now, you're with me," he smiles, his white teeth gleaming in his bronzed physique.

  As if singed, Siah snatches her hand back, turning to take a seat on one of the pews.

  Truxton, not sure what to make of the first two introductions, clears his throat. "Where's my bride?"

  "In the ladies’ room trying on her dress one last time," Lucy says, a puzzled look on her face.

  Did I mention, Lucy Layne is a gifted seamstress who owns a bridal shop in Shell Cove? My girl has Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother skills with a needle and thread. Tynisha’s dress is custom-designed and hand-stitched, so are our gowns. Yes, we got it like that.

  Like Lucy, I'm wondering where the other two guys who will serve as our escorts are. Mandy misses nothing. Not that I have to walk the wedding runway, but this may be the closest I get to the altar.

  "I thought weddings were official raining men© events. There's two more bridesmaids and you're already out of muscle." Mandy hates pictures of herself, so she's managed to avoid the bridal party altogether.

  Truxton raises both hands. "No worries. Ramsey is picking up the tuxedos, Fiona. And Lucy, my best friend, will deliver you safely down the aisle when he arrives."

  "Girl," Mandy tsks, "why yo’ friend, who’s supposed to be the best, got to be late?"

  Lucy frowns. "I hope he's not grabby."

  Remembering Ty's Uncle Nicky from the wedding that never happened, they all groan.

  "Do you remember when Lucy swung the bouquet at his head?" I laugh.

  Lucy cut her eyes. "If this one grabs my behind, everybody is going to get their head strung."

  Just then the side door opens, and in walks Griffin. His hair is tossed from the wind, his beard is trimmed and full, and oh damn, he's got the tattoo, I now consider for my eyes only, on display.

  Beside me, Lucy hissed. "Never mind. Ass is being served today."

  Mandy having met Griffin the day before, releases a yelp.

  "Oh, Lucy, this one has more than enough ass to handle."

  Raising one hand, Griffin removes his sunglasses, taking in the sanctuary and the room's occupants. At first, I don't think he sees me. I release a breath. He'll play it cool, I surmise. But then, his head, as if on a skeet shoot and someone just released a clay disk, jerks back to me. Our eyes lock.

  "Fi?"

  I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. My ho-cation just became a timeshare presentation. Everyone is watching us.

  Ty picks that moment to appear.

  "Griffin," she beams, walking up and hugging him. She grabs his hand. "Come meet Lucy. You'll be walking her down the aisle."

  I exhale a sharp breath. Behind me, an “oh shit” rings out.

  My temporary man and I are attending the same wedding, but he'll be on my best friend's arm.

  What in the fuck?

  CHAPTER TEN

  So, when was Ty going tell me Fiona was one of her best friends? I walk into Truxton and Tynisha’s wedding rehearsal, at the tail end of introductions, and the first person I see is my Fiona. It sounds cliché, but I get how men say they didn’t appreciate other women when asked by their significant others. Fiona is my lighthouse, the woman I look to above all others.

  I recognize a few other people, too.

  That Messy Mandy chick is laughing her ass off. The woman, whose picture is prominently displayed on the N2U homepage, is sitting by herself on a rear pew looking at Hatcher with a murderous stare. What the hell did the career Marine do to her? And trust me, when a woman gives a man that look, he’s done some fucked up shit.

  “I'm walking you down the aisle, Fiona. Period.”

  Yeah, I know everyone is staring at the cuckoo who escaped the nest. This is where women have liberties men dare not partake in. I want Fiona on my arm. Not for a long time have I felt this content. If you’ve been where I’ve been, physically and mentally, when you find a good thing, a woman who can put up with your shit, and isn’t afraid to show you hers? You don’t let the good shit go easily.

  "Lower your voice," Fiona says.

  "Don't do that," Mandy lifts her derriere off a giant gold-plated box, stamped: PRAYER REQUESTS, and stands to her feet. "I left my stethoscope back in the hotel room."

  The one named Lucy, who seems like a perfectly nice lady, does me a favor and grabs Mandy by the arm. "Stop lying. I know good and damn well you haven't spent one dime on nobody's stethoscope. You didn't even have one when you were in nursing school."

  "Did too."

  "You didn't," all the ladies say in unison.

  "Griffin, why didn't you tell me that you had a wedding this weekend?”

  My chest tightens and my initial reaction is to be defensive. She hasn't told me shit about why she landed here yesterday either. I had no idea she was going to fuck and run. And, if I had known we had friends in common, I would've been all over ass as a long time ago. Over the months, Fiona has dropped tidbits of information about her friends. Now, I’m phishing through conversations, digging for details about the women who are important to my lady.

  Tynisha clearly confused, glances over at Mandy. “What’s going on?”

  I jerk my head around ready to tell the bride and my friend, she needs to rearrange the bridal party... for me. It’s a dick move. I know. Color me surprised. Not.

  “Griffin wants to walk Fiona down the aisle.” That’s Mandy, our imbedded reporter.

  Tynisha looks up, her natural locs framing expressive mocha-colored eyes and ebony skin. “Why?”

  “Who’s Griffin to us?” Siah asks, threading her fingers through an artificial bouquet.

  I’ve known Truxton for some years, but we didn’t get close until after Ty left his sorry ass at the altar. Post-traumatic stress disorder is a bitch who’ll tear up all the best shit in your life. After Ty completed some intense therapy she realized Truxton was the man she wanted in her life.

  "He’s a friend and Truxton’s business partner."

  “Oh,” the women say in quartet.

  “Griff, why can’t another man wrap his arms around Fiona and lead her to the altar?”

  “Amanda,” Fiona hisses. “Stay out of this.”

  Tynisha is clueless, but Mandy? Her messy ass knows the deal.

  “Out of what?” Lucy exclaims. “And why can’t he walk me down the aisle?”

  “I’m fucking Griffin,” Fiona blurts out.

  “Oh shit,” Ty says. “Now, I get it.”

  Lucy gasps. “So, let me get this straight. You brought your brazen ass all the way from San Diego, only to mess around and dip the groomsman’s sausage in your honey mustard?”

  "Yeah," Fiona says with not an ounce of remorse.

  Mandy burst out laughing. “Now you know I will be calling Siera, because this shit is going in a book."

  Ramsey Tadeo turns to Lucy. “Come here, sweet thing. I’ll walk your fine ass down the aisle.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “How old are you?”

  Yeah, I notice Ramsey is visibly younger than his prey, but I also know he is wise beyond his thirty-eight years.

  A wry grin covers my friend’s face. “How old you need me to be, little Lucy?”

  “Boy, we’re at a wedding rehearsal,” she scoffed, but she didn’t move away.

  To say I’m surprised to see Ramsey involved in a wedding is an understatement. The guy is a human grenade with the pin missing. He lives life by the hour. Fucking, fighting, and moving on-that’s Ramsey.

  Ramsey grins, taking Lucy by the hand. “I’m ready for our fucking honeymoon.”

  “The answer is
no,” she smirks. “My damn daughter is probably your age.”

  “I’m interested in you, not your daughter.”

  Lucy waves Ramsey off. “Now back to you, Miss Cooper.”

  "Fiona, you know you a new kind of crazy.” That's from Mandy. Deja’s eyes are cartooning out of her head, while Lucy looks on shaking hers. I remember Siah is the quiet friend. She’s doing her usual, keeping silent but not missing a thing.

  I don't see the big deal, and neither does Fiona.

  "Griffin and I have nothing to do with Ty and Truxton," my girl defends.

  Her friends look worried. Me? I’m satisfied.

  "Guys, seriously. It’s cool. We're just messing around for the weekend."

  "Messy is right." Mandy brushes manicured nails on her blouse and does a make-believe buff.

  Am I missing something? What’s with the blank faces?

  Deja finally speaks. "Girl, he must've twisted your brain along with your G-string."

  "Enough. What?" Fiona questions not understanding the sudden rise in tension within the group.

  "You’d better do your best to keep each other happy, because if you two piss each other off?” She shakes her head. “Tomorrow could be very interesting."

  "Nothing's going to happen," I say determination in my voice. Fiona smiles up at me and I give a confident wink.

  She’s not going anywhere and neither am I.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I can't believe that I'm actually in the kitchen in front of a pot and a pan. Griffin has been so wonderful to me. I want to do something nice for him. I find bacon, eggs, sausage, and ham in the refrigerator. I've made freshly-squeezed fruit juice from the citrus I grabbed out of the basket on the counter. Before Griffin left for his morning run he woke me up just to kiss me goodbye.

  Am I dreaming? Is this guy for real?

  It's a question I've been asking myself since last night. The wedding rehearsal was great. After Ty agreed that Griffin could walk me down the aisle, his snarl vanished. Besides, Ramsey Tadeo kept Lucy either by his side or in his sights until rehearsal ended.