Read A Taste of Sin Online

Authors: Fiona Zedde

Tags: #African American Women, #General, #Romance, #Erotic Fiction, #Adult, #Love Stories, #Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbians

A Taste of Sin (5 page)

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She pulled out first and rolled off the bed to strip off the condom and gloves and throw them in the bathroom trash. When she walked back into the bedroom, Rémi had the girl’s ass in the air and was working it out with her tongue, a long piece of plastic wrap between the girl’s hole and her mouth. Ananda wiggled her ass, making encouraging noises with her mouth, as if Rémi didn’t know what she was doing. She needed something better to do with her mouth. Dez stripped off her dick and tossed it in a nearby chair, then grabbed some plastic.
Even through the barrier the woman gave fantastic head, she lay between Dez’s splayed legs, eating her pussy with the concentration of a surgeon, holding her open, licking her clit and asshole, and tongue fucking her until Dez’s hips rose off the bed to meet each movement of her tongue. She held the woman’s hair in her fist, slamming her aching wet cunt against her mouth. Ananda didn’t stop when her own orgasm rolled through her. She shouted hoarsely and panted into Dez’s pussy but didn’t slow her movements. If anything, she sped up.
“Fuck!” She met Rémi’s eyes over the slope and rise of ass. “She’s—ah!—good.” Then her world went supernova again. She slid bonelessly to the bed, having enough presence of mind to crawl away from the girl’s mouth so that Rémi could experience it for herself.
She watched the girl eat her friend out, lapping at the pussy in front of her with frantic greed. This one, she thought with lazy appreciation, was worth keeping. At least for the rest of the night. To prove her point, Rémi reached back for the headboard, arching up off the bed as she watched the girl devour her, her teeth skinned back in a feral smile. She came furiously, roaring and rising up, her face a rictus of pleasure. Dez’s body clenched in sympathetic orgasm, jerking against the sheets.
“I second that.” Dez sighed at the ceiling, feeling the beginning descent of her high. The hectic breath of the two women mingled with her own. She shivered at the cooling sweat on her skin.
Ananda rolled up to her elbows and held up a little glass bottle that was still three-quarters full of white powder. “You want to go again?”
Hours later she stumbled around the house looking for her clothes. Pleasure had ridden her hard and fast and now her muscles were quivering from the rough use. Her body ached and every orifice felt sore and tender, even her mouth couldn’t bear having anything in it any time soon. The sun was already starting to come up but she was nowhere near tired. Her eyes felt like they had been Krazy-glued open, nerves still vibrating from her ride on the bucking white horse.
“Hey, good-looking.” Nuria lay by the pool in her bra and panties, smoke from a cigarette curling up to the lightening sky. “What happened to your clothes? Not that your little robe isn’t cute. . . .” She laughed softly, eyeing the half a robe that left everything below the top of Dez’s thighs bare.
“I think a naked girl stole them off me.” The water seemed suddenly very inviting, sparkling and clean in a way that she longed to be. Dez slipped out of the robe and walked to the edge of the pool. She heard Nuria’s quiet intake of breath, and she wasn’t sure if it was the muscle she’d put on since the last time her friend saw her naked, or the scratches that decorated her arms and back.
“Someone’s been busy tonight, I see.”
She made a noncommittal noise and dove into the water. Heaven. The warm wetness slid over her skin like a balm. For the moment, her groaning muscles quieted and the gentle noise of her journey through the water, combined with the distant sounds of the party, lulled her into a lovely half dream. Dez slid beneath the pool’s surface and floated on her back, arms and legs spread out like a starfish as she watched the crescent moon through the water’s wavering lens. She forced herself to just lay there and not heed the call of the frantic energy humming in her blood. Movement near her and the beginning burn in her lungs made her stand up and break the surface.
“I hope you’re not trying to off yourself so soon. Half the girls in the place still have plans for you.” Sage swam close to, then past her to heave herself backward onto the edge of the pool. Water ran off her tattooed body in thin rivulets.
“That’s the last thing you’d ever have to worry about from me, my friend.” Although now she wasn’t exactly feeling on top of the world. This time she
it was the coke. And she wasn’t going to take another hit to make herself feel better. It was going to be a long day. All she had to do was ride it out until she felt sleep closing in on her, then that would be that. She swam backward toward Sage.
“So what else you got to do at this party besides snort, drink, and fuck?”
Someone was banging a drum inside her skull. There was no other explanation for the megawatt pain that made her entire body throb with hurt. Dez rolled over, relieved to see that the curtains were drawn. Beyond the thick burgundy cloth she could tell that it was daylight. And this wasn’t her house.
She stumbled to the bathroom where she found and choked down four aspirin with tap water. With a less-than-graceful motion, she moved to turn on the shower only to stumble when a wave of nausea attacked, making her spin to the toilet and clutch its porcelain edges as she retched, bringing up her aspirin, the water, and some other liquid nastiness that had been resting in her stomach from the night before. Her head pounded even more when she was done.
Dez sat down a little unsteadily on the toilet and waited a full ten minutes before trying for the shower again. When she was clean and dry in one of Sage’s terry-cloth robes, she took more aspirin. This time she swallowed them dry, willing herself not to gag. Downstairs, she found Sage stretched out in front of the TV with a glass of grapefruit juice balanced on her lap. The house looked freshly scrubbed and cleaned with no hint of the previous night’s party. A clock hovering above a doorway told her that it was well past five in the evening.
“Now I remember why I don’t do that shit anymore,” Dez said, sinking into the couch beside her friend. “Next time a girl says that she can only fuck on coke, I’ll tell her to go fuck herself.”
“Don’t front. You had a damn good time last night.” Sage turned down the sound on the National Geographic show, something about pyramids, and slid Dez’s pouting pained face a look. “Besides, it wasn’t just the coke. It was the scotch and the scotch and more coke. You gettin’ old, baby.”
“Something. Shit.” Dez leaned back into the cool leather. “I feel like something a leper squeezed out of his asshole.”
“There’s ginger ale and saltines in the kitchen.”
“How much coke did you do last night, anyway?” she asked when Dez returned from the kitchen with the box of saltines and a can of Schweppes.
“Obviously too much.” Now that her head was a bit more settled, she noticed other things, the weakening light of the sun through the open terrace doors, the sound of voices from downstairs, splashing from the pool, and the occasional sound of laughter.
“You know that I can’t dredge up any sympathy for you, right?” Sage turned on her trademark lopsided grin. “Even wrecked you look gorgeous.”
“Good genes.” She lifted her head weakly to see what was happening beyond the terrace doors. “What’s going on outside?”
“Nuria and Phil are out baking by the pool. There’s someone else, too, a friend of Phil’s, but I can’t remember her name.” Then she answered the unasked question. “Rémi had to go by the club for a while. I guess she’ll be back.”
Rémi was the only one of them who had to work these days, although she used the term lightly with her best friend. She was the owner of one of the trendiest jazz clubs in Miami. Since she hired only the best people to manage and run the place, she didn’t have to do much more than show up around town looking prosperous and promote the bar.
Another burst of laughter floated up from the pool. With her attentions no longer focused on keeping upright or from upchucking last night’s liquid meal, Dez realized that Sage, although she wanted to be out by the pool, had stayed in the house to keep an eye on her. A distant eye, but an eye nonetheless. She even had her little swimming shorts on. For a moment she’d forgotten their system of keeping one another from dying of excess. Suddenly she didn’t feel so bad.
“You should go out there and get a tan; you’re looking a little pale these days.” She smiled at her friend’s look. “Go ahead, I’m fine. Just pass me the remote before you go.”
Dez sank back into the leather as Sage walked out the door, telling Dez to yell if she needed anything. Yelling was the last thing she intended to do anytime soon. But she nodded and lifted the remote.
Chapter 6
eavy darkness pressed against Dez’s bedroom window. It wasn’t even dawn yet. She turned over and picked up her watch: 4:47 A.M. With sleep misted eyes she blinked up at the skylight. Claudia would be coming back today. After almost two weeks of waiting, her mother was coming back. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and closed her eyes.
Go back to sleep.
The phone rang. “Are you coming or what?” Her brother’s irritated voice yanked her from sleep. The sun was full in the sky, scattering bits of red and green and orange through the stained glass. The more sedate gold from behind her sheer curtains told her it was well past noon.
“What time is it?” she croaked.
“Almost one. You know that the yacht is supposed to come in at one-thirty. Why aren’t you here? Where the fuck are you?”
“Where did you call, stupid?” She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, keep your pants on.”
In four minutes she was ready, teeth brushed, face washed, and tired body dressed in jeans and a slim fitting T-shirt. Under the sunglasses, her eyes were still at half-mast, sleepy but open. Driving to her brother’s office, she scanned the streets, half expecting, even after almost two weeks in Miami, to see Ruben and Caitlyn. She dreaded that day, but also wished it would come so she could stop worrying about it. Dez called Derrick as her truck coasted to a stop outside his office building.
“I’m here.” She leaned back in the pale gray leather seats and tried to wake up some more. The Prodigy pounding from the SUV’s stereo would at least help with that.
She’d bought the Lexus 400h two days before at her mother’s insistence. Over the yacht’s sophisticated satellite telephone system, Claudia had managed to call her daughter, skirting the reason Dez was in Miami in the first place, to address her poor choice of vehicles. “You need a car, Desiree,” she had said on the phone. “Groceries don’t fit well on the back of a motorcycle.” Dez couldn’t argue with her on that one.
As a silver Firebird slid up, obviously wanting to get by her double-parked truck, Dez glanced at her watch. She was about to move when she saw Derrick walk quickly from the glass doors of Silverman, Johnson, and Meyer. With a quick flick of her wrist, she turned down the stereo and changed the CD to Sade. Her brother jogged the last few feet and jumped into the truck.
“What happened to your AC?” Derrick asked with an annoyed glance at Dez, unbuttoning the jacket of his charcoal gray suit and throwing it in the backseat. He buckled his seat belt.
“It’s not on.” Dez guided the truck into the light Saturday-afternoon traffic.
“I see.”
Dez watched from the corner of her eye as Derrick tried in vain to look comfortable in the late October heat. She turned on the air conditioner and put up three of the truck’s windows.
“Thanks.” Derrick smoothed his tie and settled back to watch the neon Miami scenery slip by his window. After a moment he took out a folder from his briefcase and started looking through it.
“What’s up? You look a little uptight today.”
“Uptight?” He looked up from his paperwork with irritation. “I guess next to you anybody can seem uptight. You don’t work, you have all of Aunt Paulette’s money to wallow in, and all those girls to entertain you in case you get bored.”
“Uh huh. Is this about your friend?”
“My friend?”
“You know, what’s her name . . . Victoria.”
“Leave her alone. She’s a good woman who doesn’t need to fuck around with somebody like you.”
“Calm down, killer. All I did was invite her to hang out with me sometime. It’s not like I’m going to fuck her hello then drop her off at the curb.”
He made a strange noise, and then flicked his eyes contemptuously over her. “That’s not going to happen, even if that
your plan. I’d just like her to run with a higher class of friends.”
. “All right then.” She downshifted the truck, pulling up behind a red convertible Mustang as they approached a yellow light. The driver, a sexy light-skinned woman in a dress she could have had on from the night before, looked at them through her rearview mirror. Dez doubted that she could see through the tinted windshield, but the woman adjusted her legs anyway and let the shimmering green silk fall away from her thighs. Dez revved the engine and chuckled at the seductive display. She was still smiling when the Mustang pulled away, leaving them in the proverbial cloud of dust. Dez turned her attentions back to her brother.
“What did I ever do to you, Derrick? I don’t think I deserve any of this shit that I’m getting from you.”

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