CONTROLLING HER: 7 BOOKS COMPLETED BOX SET - (Adult Short Reads Romance Novel Stories Series): Contemporary Love Thriller, Suspense, Control & Erotic Menage ... Male Domination Novellas 1 2 3 4 5 6 7) (13 page)

Last night was amazing to some extent. Veronica was a fire cracker; she rode my dick so hard I thought I was going to lift off to the sky with her. Morning and two warm showers after, my dick still felt sore. She was good at riding dick. I don’t usually give women that control, but when she straddled me her small face so intense and lusting, I could not resist the urge to watch her bounce up and down and watch her two beautiful mounds bouncing. She was simply perfect. I’d let her do it more often when I get the chance to.

I paid attention throughout the morning I didn’t let myself get distracted.
 
 Not until Michelle, my secretary came to let me know my 3 o clock was here.

“Internal of external client?”

“External and not sure she is a client, she’d refuse to tell me what it was in regards to, she said you’d know what she was here about, she only gave her name, Ms. Chang”

“Ms. Chang? The name doesn’t ring a bell. How many times do I have to ask you to check with me before?” “I would have boss but she sounded stern and very convincing. Plus you were at lunch and free the time she requested to come, at least speak to her please, she’d came early and had been here for a while”

My own convictions about time gave me no other choice but to see her. She walked in, black pinned strip suit, vanilla skin and an oval face, a long neck line, straight hair pinned behind her and dark eyes. She came in, commanding the place, I was thrown aback by her confidence, it’s not often that women show that confidence around me. She stretched her hand out to me introducing herself.

“The name’s Becky” she said, her words clear but lined with Australian and a heavy Chinese accent. Chinese? Becky? Veronica. This was Becky? The lesbian? That explains the confidence, I was a man who didn’t move or shake her, as you could imagine not many did. I stood instead of remaining in my seat. I was much taller, than her tiny frame, she was much shorter compared to Veronica. Her heels made her appear a good height.

“Excuse me I don’t think we’ve met.” I said taking her hand.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about me,” she dropped the professional tone and began. “I didn’t come here to make friends; maybe we could be friends after this, your choice. Look Veronica is my best friend, and she isn’t in the best place right now, I didn’t seem to make it any better, and apparently you are the source of all the agony she is going through right now. I’m here because I need your help.” She struggled to keep the English up, in her casual tone I could tell by her stuttering, and the awkward breaks she had between sentences. I contemplated her offer half wondering what in the world she could possibly be talking about. Maybe we could be friend’s we had the same interests and goals after all, I’d say pussy money weed, but I’m not on the smoking grind. She looked like a professional, thank God for that. Yea, maybe we could be friends. What was so wrong with Veronica though?

“What exactly are you talking about, what do you need my help with?” I sounded more sarcastic than I’d intended to be, but I was intrigued. She rolled her eyes came around the table, with eyes that could pass a lie detector test, in a tone I often use she said to me. “You, fuck shit up, Veronica looks like she’s about to break and you need to fix it.” Of course I didn’t sound like that but she sounded convincing.
What had I fucked up though?

“What did I fuck up?” I air-quoted her, she smiled, a condescending smile, an asshole smile, fuck, what was that?

“You don’t know?” She laughed, cleared her throat. “You don’t know about Jonathan do you Mr. Hilton?” Jonathan? Jonathan who? “Veronica’s boo? The man she’s lived with for how many years now.”

I didn’t know how to feel, was she fucking both of us? I gave her strict rules. I brushed up the dumbstruck look on my face, and smiled at her as she glared in contentment, at least she wasn’t out of the loop. After realising I’d spoken to him, the man who slept beside my belongings at night, touched and caressed her, I realised I didn’t care. Or was I that good at pretending that I fooled myself? I wasn’t buying that.

“Ok, what does this change? How is this my fault? And in what way do you need my help?”

She sat now, fixed her jacket that didn’t need any altercation. She tried not to look uncomfortable in a pregnant pause that was about to give labour. Before the water broke she spoke.

“I didn’t help make things any better. I think she hates me as much as she hates you.”

“Hates me? I think you’ve been mislead with the wrong idea. Matter of fact, I’ma ignore that. What did you do? To make what worst?”

She went on to finally explain on the verge of tears how Jonathan found out about what Veronica and I had been doing, what Veronica had been doing, and how she couldn’t control herself and made a pass at her while she was seeking comfort. It made some sense. Veronica needed comfort, or did she need to forget? Did she need the sex I needed to forget? She’s used me and left. I’d almost felt cheap, but really I was pleased and amazed that a woman could be of that strength. I didn’t know how to tell Becky that I’d seen Veronica just last night and that she was fine.

“I don’t know what to say.”

She said nothing, almost ashamed. I thought about her short fingers trying to grab Veronica and it was funny. I stifled the laugh, and strangled the smile trying to dance on my face, but it eventually came out, not loud but a small chuckle. She went from sorry and hurting to furious in a second. Almost jumping across the table and slapping my face, I caught her hand before it could hit.

“Don’t fucking laugh! It not funny! Veronica is my best friend I really didn’t mean to, I can’t help the fact that she’s so attractive and I couldn’t help the fact that she was so close and smelled so..” she faded off, and sat back in the refuge of my office chair, lost in her thoughts and I let her think about what she’s done and gave her some space. I left the office told her I was getting some coffee. Coffee that was outside my door, that I could’ve asked Michelle to get and I took five minutes longer than I really needed to. I came back she’d transformed into what I suppose she really was all along.

“So this is what I’m suggesting” she bombarded me, before I was half way through the door. “I need you to talk to Veronica, unless you have some hang ups about being the other guy, which I don’t suppose you do, since you look like you already have things figured out. Tell her I came to you; don’t tell her I told you to talk to her. I’ma leave my number, call me when you get through to her and tell me what she says, okay?”

Why do women do this? You either want her to know you care or you don’t. Mind games never work, but I was interested to see how this played out. Becky seemed like a tough cookie, I liked her, she had my interest as well. Confident, strong in who she is, something I bet attracted more of the wrong kind and intimidated the type she wanted. She didn’t strike me as gay, she struck me as powerful, and power is what I want.

Controlling Her 6

Older Man Younger Girl Short Reads Series

Dominated Unprotected Bare & Fertile Taking

Kilie Sams

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Copyright 2015 Hardcore Erotica Stories

Published by Hardcore Erotica Stories

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

First HARDCORE EROTICA STORIES Printing April 2015

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure inventions of fiction.

I went to work the following morning, everyone looked at me as if I was quarantined. I supposed a rumour started that I had caught the flu, now my sick days where gone, what’s going to happen when my good old package from Mother Nature came around? I guess I still had my casual days; I could casually wear my baggy shorts and a T-shirt and casually sit on my couch. Sophia was quiet all day, as per her usual curious and questioning chatty mouth self. She gave me space, it was awkward, it was the last thing I needed. I needed a friend someone I could talk to about anything to get this off my mind, I offered for us to have lunch in New Kingston instead of the boring old canteen food.

I treated her to my favourite Chinese place up the road and out of sight. It was on me since I knew what her salary was like. Which was little to nothing, I don’t recall ever hearing her complain. She told me about the date she and the guy from Systems went on, how excited she was, how she liked his bike,

“I’m riding on the back of a bike for the first time,” she squealed.

I felt thrown into the past by the time machine that was her laugh, I felt like I was in high school again, sharing promises and secrets, she was wise beyond her years but still had a far way to go. We need to understand that some people are like closed doors, and some like open roads, not everyone will give way and not every road will lead in the direction we want them to. This didn’t have to last. She was so sure of what she wanted and I was sure she didn’t know herself well enough to know exactly what she needed. I was twenty-three and still learning new things about myself. Like for instance I hate sleeping alone, I got so used to Jonathan beside me that I took having someone to lie still with for granted; I woke up more often than I needed to pee. Two, I don’t like apples very much, maybe it was having to eat them very often, or the fading enamel that hurt whenever I bit into it. And lastly three, there was a roaring sex god that lived inside me, of course not many would ever know that, I don’t think anyone knows all those things but me. What did Sophia know about herself that no one else knew? What was the truth behind her smile? Did she even know? I pretending to listen as I heard her speaking, maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. I smiled at her, and answered what I could.

She’d ask me, “did you work on your relationship?” totally off topic caught me by surprise, I turned down conversation with and sharp “It ended” and continued eating my chop suey as if my heart wasn’t crawling out of my chest when I’d said it. She knew again that this wasn’t up for discussion.

We talked our way through a hour and a half, ended up being late to go back to work. We got there my boss wasn’t there we were saved by the bell. Worked a few more short hours, called Jonathan on my break, left a short voicemail “I miss you please come home,” didn’t apologise couldn’t apologise, didn’t know what exactly I would say. But I meant what I’d said instead. I missed him, and when desperate times called for desperate measures I’ll beg. I’ll chase him if I have to, there was no walking away from me, he loved me too much and he knew it, I loved him too much and he knew it. I hope he knew it.

It’s been three weeks and Jonathan hasn’t come home, another week and I’d be on vacation, we were supposed to be going to Mobay, stay at a resort, vacate. Mother called and I finally got the nerve to tell her what happened.

“Baby I’m sorry to hear,” I could hear the sincerity in her voice as she tried to find the right words to say “Are you sure this is what you want? You don’t sound so well, why don’t you try giving him a chance?” I didn’t tell her what had happened just told her we broke up, she assumed like most people, that I had been the one to end it. What reason did I have? That’s right, what reason did I really have to cheat on him in the first place. I couldn’t tell her what I’d done, I waited for her to realise I wasn’t going to talk about it so she could change the topic. ‘She did, well whenever you’re ready you can always come home.” “I am home mother,” I said in a stern voice, I was home for three weeks waiting for Jonathan to come back, and he didn’t. Maybe he really never was, I needed to let go, it was hard for me to understand how he could let go after so long, I was still holing on like he was my life line. He was my life line. Mom kept on stressing that I should come visit throughout the entire conversation. Maybe that is exactly what I needed. I went online when she hung up and booked my flight for next Saturday morning.

I’d been at Max’s for a week, before that I was at Jeffery’s. My friend’s were good friends they understood me, they understood the male anatomy, I don’t know if any of them have ever faced what I was facing but I know they didn’t ask, didn’t speak her name, they offered me a place to stay. It was two weeks after I had left, it was Wednesday, I took my lunch time and I knew Veronica would be at work, I knew her schedule. I went over, used the spare key. Let myself in, the place was a mess, I’ve seen it in worst conditions, but the bed, it did not look peaceful. I missed her, she was always the best part of my day, whether we were having sex or not. Sex did not define our relationship, I thought communication, understanding and love defined our relationship, I thought what we’d been through had made us impenetrable, but she’d lost her way. The tissue roll on the dresser showed, she’d been crying. She’d been crying over me, I wish I could fix her. I can’t I stopped myself from going there.  Focused on what I’d came to do, I got my gym bag out and packed a few more things, I was tired of washing, and the guys had been cursing about their water bills. Hurriedly I packed better shoes, more appropriate things for work. Thank god I wasn’t a suit. I packed clean underwear; my dirty laundry was still in the basket. What had Veronica been doing? Two weekends had passed; she needed to clean and soon, before the landlord gave her ass an eviction notice.

I sat, procrastinated, I didn’t want to go, I turned the TV on, put the bag at my foot and watched her favourite station WB, watched a young boy living with two older men, one his father and the other his inappropriate uncle. Three episodes and a new show later I had still been there, the place didn’t reek thank the lord. The couch cushions smelt like her, how she smelt after a long day at work, 100% woman. It was a soft body splash with a temptation perfume mixed with sweat and ventilation. You know that a/c smell?

I’d been dozing off a little when I heard the front door creek open, grabbing my bag I sprinted pass, leaving Becky alone in the doorjamb screaming ‘comb back’ after me, funny accent and all. I assumed she’d tell Veronica I was there, but Veronica would know. She was very peculiar that way, plus if Becky hadn’t caught me, I’d probably have left the TV on like she’d told me not to do a thousand times. She used to wait until I was asleep and climbed out of bed to turn it off at nights. On the drive to my mother’s I fought the urge I had to cry. Seeing mom would be good for me.

I left Washington Gardens and took a drove down memory lane to down town, I picked up mom in the market. The car reeked of raw meat, the smell of salt mackerel mixed with chicken wasn’t the best, I didn’t want to know what the other unfamiliar smells were. I was afraid of parking down here. I drove up Spanish town road and made my way slowly through Denham Town, it wasn’t a good feeling, I ignored thinking of Veronica when I saw the barefooted children playing in the streets, or thinking of how she’d react and curse about bad parenting, then go off into a daydream of what our child, our daughter specifically would be like and how she’d be raised.

“You can park it in the church, careful pastor, watch it.” Mom said from the passenger side. You could find her proud smile from Google map’s satellite. I drove up the lanes, took the corners slowly and parked up the road from her building in the church yard as she insisted. For a woman who didn’t like change very much and one who was stuck in her old ways she was surely happy she didn’t have to tug the market bags through the market or have to pay a cart boy to push them around for her. They were even more reckless with the new laws in place for them.

Being back in my old room, felt different, these walls held so many of my scars I had no clue I’d remember everything so vividly, it was probably because the place looked exactly the same when I had left for college.

“Mom go put your feet up, I’ll unpack the bags.”

Huffing and puffing after climbing the stairs she put her feet up on a hassock, pulling the rag she’d stuffed in her bosom out and wiping her face. I went to the fridge unpacked, got her some ice water then the fan from her room. She watched the local news and snoozed in her chair, old age wasn’t treating her very well. She no longer looked like the strong woman that had protected me all my life. She’d cut the bad seed that my father had planted in me from my roots and ensured my life stayed on the right track. I was grateful for her, no matter what.

“Come ma’ get up, time to take a nap.”

“What nap? I got bible study today.”

“Uh-huh not today ma’, come on, go rest, I’ll take care of dinner for you.”

She listened to me, I didn’t see that one coming. Looking for her bible she took it with her to bed as I followed behind her with the fan. No water, I almost forgot, but she’d stored some in the lower cupboards, I made run down and boiled dumplins and bananas.

When mom finally woke up, she watched the 7 o’clock news and enjoyed her dinner. The sound of her fork constantly knocking her plate warmed my heart. I remembered when she used to make the trips to get me food in school. She was a strong woman. One Veronica should have written about. But I never shared so much, she knew I wasn’t as fortunate as her, but she didn’t know how unfortunate. My life wasn’t all bad; I did well in school did well in sports, got a scholarship to do journalism, was now living a dream, and had been living a dream. My dream had now become a nightmare.