Divine Intervention (20 page)

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Authors: Lutishia Lovely

BOOK: Divine Intervention
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41
I’ll Make Love To You
“F
inally.” Derrick wrapped his arms around Vivian’s soft, lush body. They were sitting against the headboard of their king-sized bed, the home’s master suite. It was the first time they’d been truly alone in two weeks.
“This feels good,” Vivian purred, nestling her head against Derrick’s shoulder. She ran her hand down from his chest to his groin and was immediately rewarded with hardening interest. “Um, this feels good, too.”
Derrick kissed Vivian’s temple. “I’ve missed you, baby.”
“Likewise. Thought I was going to go stone crazy sometimes.” She shifted, raised her head, and kissed Derrick on the lips. She pulled back, but Derrick caught her chin, pulled her back to him, and instigated a deeper, wetter kiss. “Baby, are you sure this is okay? I want you badly but—”
“Vivian. My head was bandaged but trust me, my dick is fine.”
Vivian chuckled, reaching back down to stroke the love wand that had brought her pleasure for almost twenty years. “It sure is.” She continued to kiss Derrick—lovingly, languidly—enjoying the feel of his tongue as it swirled against hers and his large, firm fingers as they caressed her bare skin. They lay down and continued reintroducing themselves to each other. Derrick twirled Vivian’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it pebbled into a familiar hardness. Vivian ran her hand up and down Derrick’s shaft until prelove juices spilled from its tip. She smiled, while placing kisses on Derrick’s lips, cheek, temple, and bald head. She carefully kissed his incision, running her tongue along its length. The act reminded her of the sacredness of this event, and how she’d come close to not ever having this experience again.
The acknowledgment spurred her on.
She scooted away from him, just enough so that she could continue raining kisses all over the dark caramel-covered body that she loved. She kissed his neck, shoulders, and chest. Still massaging his manhood, she licked his nipples, and was rewarded by their pebbled response. She followed the light hair trail that ran down the middle of Derrick’s defined abdomen. It wasn’t quite a six-pack, but that he’d worked out three days a week for the past decade or more was evident. She bent down to his navel, and swirled her tongue into his inward belly button. Derrick shifted, grabbed her head and pushed it farther south. Vivian’s chuckle was deep and husky as she followed his lead. She ran her tongue across his abdomen, heard his intake of breath as she gently massaged his balls and kissed his dick. She swirled her tongue around the tip before taking him in as much as she could, treating his long, swollen member like a large lollipop, giving it loving licks from base to head, outlining the perfectly mushroomed tip before taking him in again. Derrick moaned and tilted back his upper head, giving Vivian total access. She shifted, too, until her juicy backside swayed invitingly in Derrick’s face even as her mouth continued to play an award-winning melody on Derrick’s rod. Derrick made the love solo a duet, flicking his tongue along Vivian’s folds, finding her nub and giving it pleasure. He placed his hands on her hips and deepened the assault.
Now, it was Vivian’s turn to moan, and Derrick’s turn to smile.
He tickled one opening while licking another, all while Vivian showed skills that, had she been bobbing for apples, would have garnered her first place. They were fully engaged in the dance of love, totally lost in their desire to please each other. Licking, sucking, teasing, moaning, groaning, laughing, and then doing all of it all over again.
“Baby,” Derrick said at last, “I can’t take any more. I need you now.”
“Let me do it,” Vivian whispered as she turned around to face him. “You stay relaxed, don’t strain yourself. Okay? Just lay back and enjoy the ride.” She repositioned herself yet again and slowly, oh . . . so . . . slowly . . . lowered herself onto Derrick’s willing, waiting love sword. They both exhaled at being joined together for the first time in two weeks. Aside from after she’d had the children, it was the longest they’d ever gone without making love. She sheathed him inside her inner walls, welcoming his presence with her muscles, squeezing him tightly with her love. There were tears in both of their eyes as she rose up and eased down, slowly, reverently, and then once more. Derrick’s eyes looked deeply into hers as he grabbed her hips and lifted her up, over and again. They ground against each other, letting nature take its course and spirit take its pleasure. With one hand still guiding her hips, he reached the other up to her berry-colored nipple, flicking it with his thumbnail and increasing the delicious pain and pleasure of it all. Vivian continued to move her hips in a circular motion, her head thrown back, jaws slack, entire body fully engaged in the feeling, the blessing, of her husband inside her.
Thank you, God. Thank you for sparing his life.
“Ah!” Vivian’s eyes opened as Derrick shifted their positions. “Wait, baby. You need to take it easy, remember?”
“I’ve got this,” Derrick whispered. He placed Vivian’s legs over his shoulders and sank in deeply, fully, all the way to the hilt. He set up a leisurely pace, licking Vivian’s toes before sucking the big toe into his mouth. A hiss from Vivian was his reward. He knew every way to please her, and this pleased him immensely. They continued in this way for untold moments, before he eased her legs off his shoulders and led her to her knees. He got behind her and readied himself for one of their favorite positions, using his tongue to tease and tantalize forbidden places before he continued the dance. He ran his hand along her crease and then increased momentum until both he and Vivian were hurdling over the edge, voluntarily free-falling into mind-blowing ecstasy. Afterward, he slumped down on top of her. Vivian welcomed his body weight, wrapped her arms around his sweaty back and kissed him everywhere.
“Thank you, baby. I love you.” His whispered voice was raspy with emotion.
“I love you more, Derrick Montgomery. Welcome home.”
42
Friends and Lovers
S
till in Los Angeles, Kelvin and Princess sat in the comfortable, cozy MTM offices that housed Carla Chapman’s Emmy-award-winning television show:
Conversations with Carla
. Where they sat was more than twice the size of the office Carla had occupied three years ago, when the show had debuted. Now there were three distinct areas: a sitting area for cozy conversations, the office area that housed desks, file cabinets, and an eight-seater conference table, and a state-of-the-art kitchen.
“Well, I tell you what. Y’all sure know how to make a headline!” Carla poured glasses of orange juice to go with the vegetable and sausage quiche she’d whipped up for their meeting.
“It’s crazy, Miss Carla,” Kelvin replied. “Whoever said that any publicity is good publicity obviously never went through it.”
“You’re probably right, Kelvin. And while I appreciate your display of brought-upsy, please, call me Carla. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in these next few months so might as well get on a first-name basis right now.”
“Okay, Carla. I appreciate that.” He took a bite of the quiche. “Wow, this is bangin’.”
“Ha! I’m glad you like it.” Carla noticed that Princess’s appetite didn’t seem to be nearly as hearty as that of her husband. “What about you, Princess? Is the food to your liking?”
Princess nodded. “It’s delicious, really. It’s just that with all that’s been happening these past few weeks . . .I don’t have much of an appetite.” The story of her and Kelvin’s quickie wedding had spread from one tabloid to another, with hints that she was pregnant, lies about a fight between Kelvin and Rafael, and an even bigger lie added to the mix that she’d been cheating on Rafael with Kelvin the whole time. Suing a tabloid was a huge headache, but she still hadn’t counted out the idea.
“I know what you’re going through, darlin’.” Carla’s usually boisterous voice was soft, and filled with compassion. “I’ve been down the road you’re going; people all up in my business, making judgments on that which they really knew nothing about. It’s a world of crazy, Princess, but I can tell you this. Nobody can tell your story like you can. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do. I’m here for you as your friend, and your mother’s friend, way before I’m here as a talk show host. We can shelve this story and go on with another topic. Lord knows there’s enough to keep talk show tongues wagging from now until Jesus comes. But I suggest that you consider turning what’s perceived as a negative situation into a positive one. Doing so, and here’s where the talk show host comes in, will surely benefit your new book due out in the fall.”
“I’ve thought about everything you’re saying, Carla. But right now”—Princess stole a quick glance at her husband—“I’m not so concerned about myself as I am about my ex-fiancé. He never asked for any of this and I can only imagine what he’s going through right now.”
“You haven’t talked to him since . . . all of this happened?”
Princess shook her head. “I’ve tried but”—another glance at Kelvin—“he won’t talk to me. I’ve left several messages, but he won’t return my calls.”
Carla was silent as she digested this information. “I’m sorry to hear that, Princess. But all you can do is your part—making sure that he knows about any show we have where he’s involved, however indirectly. Perhaps Tai can act as our liaison, at the very least speaking with his parents if he chooses not to talk with you directly. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for his being blindsided by some media piece involving a sensitive part of his past. Let’s definitely make sure that gets handled before we move forward.”
The three conversationalists looked up as the door opened. It was Carla’s husband, Lavon, who along with being the love of her life was the executive producer of the show that made hers a household name.
“Hey, baby,” he said, walking over to Carla and leaning down for a kiss. “Hello, Kelvin, Princess.” He gave Kelvin a fist bump and Princess a hug.
“We’re discussing how to handle the announcement of their marriage,” Carla said to Lavon. “And how we should handle Rafael’s name, and respect his privacy.”
“That’s easy,” Lavon said with a shrug. “He doesn’t need to be mentioned at all.” Three pairs of eyes stared with a look that said
huh
. “We make the focus of not only this but all subsequent shows on this issue all about you, Kelvin, and you, Princess. We talk about the aspect of your journey that was previously anonymously mentioned in your novel, if you’re comfortable with that, and with the whole notion of destiny . . . and soul mate love.” He looked at Carla with such love that the temperature in the room seemed to rise a notch or two. Leaning forward, with his elbows resting on his knees, he continued. “But I want whatever we do on Carla’s show to be just the beginning. I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the brass later this afternoon and I’d like to propose to them our first reality show starring”—Lavon looked from Kelvin to Princess—“the two of you.”
Princess’s eyes widened as images of shows like
The Real Housewives of Atlanta, Basketball Wives,
and
Love & Hip Hop
flashed into her mind. She slowly began shaking her head from side to side, not trusting herself to speak lest a slew of expletives roll out. She was not trying to be that neck-rolling, finger-pointing sistah with an attitude, blowing up on national TV. Even more, Princess knew that the waters she was wading into with her professional basketball player husband were very likely to present some situations where neck—rolling, finger—pointing . . . even ass-kicking would be in order.
“I don’t know about that, man,” Kelvin drawled, crossing his arms as he stretched out his long legs in front of him. “I’m not down with putting my business on blast like that.”
“I understand,” Lavon calmly replied. “That’s because you’re thinking about the reality shows that are on now. I’m wanting to take the genre to a new level, mix Kendra with Oprah and get you and Princess, know what I’m saying?”
“Who’s Kendra?” Princess asked.
Lavon explained that she was a reality TV star who started out on a show involving Playboy’s Hugh Hefner and more recently had a show with her football-playing husband, Hank. “I’d like to see our reality show be more . . . real . . . if you know what I’m saying. Instead of the extravagant lifestyles that are routinely highlighted, I want to show that people with money can have a grounded, spiritual, beautiful lifestyle as they work through their problems and challenges together . . . with God at the center. This is a type of reality we haven’t seen on these shows and one that I think you two could beautifully convey.”
Princess was still not convinced. “I don’t know, Lavon. We just got married. I don’t know if I want the first days and years of my life caught on tape.”
“But you have said that you wanted your life to be a light, and your tests to be a testimony. This can take the manifestation of that desire to a whole new level. Just sleep on it a week or two,” Lavon finished, looking at his watch and standing. “A successful show of this sort can do wonders for your career. Make you lots of money, expand your fan base, and establish a brand that will ensure every book that you ever write a spot on the
NYT
best-seller list. And then there’s life after the NBA to think about. This type of show can serve as a foundation for the rest of your lives.”
Princess agreed to think about it and Lavon’s words stayed with her the rest of the evening, long after she and Kelvin had left Carla’s office and headed to Derrick and Vivian’s for dinner. She decided that taking everything one step at a time was the best way to move forward, starting with their appearance on Carla’s show. And for that, she needed to talk to Rafael or at least get a message to him through his parents. She quieted, thinking about the man she’d called friend for most of her life.
I wonder where he is . . . how he’s doing.
It wasn’t going to be long before she found out.

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