Lying Lips (9 page)

“I know,” I said to him as I eased my body back into the cab and closed the door again. “I know.”

Then all was quiet.

“Am I just sitting here or am I driving?”

“You’re driving,” I said to the impatient man.

“Any place in particular?”

That’s when I knew where I was going.

“Yes, bring me back to the airport as quickly as possible please. I’d like to join my husband on that flight out of here.”

I had officially become a coward. A very big coward. I was so afraid to go home and face my family with the truth or with a lie that I chose to run and hide. I chose to be with Asanti until I could think things through. I knew that they would be hurt by my actions because I’d only been home for a little more than twenty-four hours. But what was I supposed to do? Go inside and tell them what? That I was a cheater and that I married another man?

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt them that way. And I wasn’t yet ready to publicly deal with the fact that I was crossing over from once permanent saint to now permanent sinner. I was a coward. A coward on the run. And even though that was the case, I felt no shame in my game because by running from my family I was a coward that still had her life and her reputation intact.

Pulling up to the airport, I jumped out before the cab had come to a complete stop. “Do I owe you anything?” I asked the driver.

“No ma’am, you’re man more than covered it,” he replied with a huge smile.

“Thanks,” I said to him as I closed the door.

“No, thank
you
,” came his reply.

In a matter of seconds I was storming the airport trying to find Asanti. As my heart raced I searched high and low from airline to airline until I finally saw him sitting in American Airlines’ section. Slowly, as if I was a criminal, I eased up to him from behind and the second I was near him, I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching out to touch him.

His hand grabbed mine in a heartbeat and although he never turned around, I knew that he knew it was me.

“I missed you,” was all he said to me as he brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it. Instantly I was hot. Steaming. My panties were soaked. I wanted him in more ways than one. “Did you miss me?” He slid his tongue over my knuckles.

“Yes,” I replied almost in a whisper. I could barely breathe from his heated touch.

Then he released my hand and finally turned toward me. Instantaneously I was in Asanti mode. I wanted him to take me. Right then. Right there. I desired him. I needed him. And the scorching look in his eyes told me he felt the same way. But I tried to be a good wife and focus on him and his business rather than sex. I tried to be a good wife again and focus on the fact that I had another family worried to death about me while I was thinking about getting my back blown out.

“I decided to go with you. I thought you might need me at a time like this,” I humbled myself enough to say.

“I knew you would,” came his baritone reply. Then he stunned me by holding up a ticket with my name on it.

Legaci Styles.

Now I was really in deep trouble.

How was I going to get through airport security with a ticket that said Legaci Styles, but an ID that said London Bentencourt?

Damn
!

If I decided to use the ticket he had, he would know my last name wasn’t Carmichael like I told him it was. He’d know it was Bentencourt. He’d want to know why it was Bentencourt, how I’d become a Bentencourt. And there wasn’t a lie big enough to tell him that would suffice.

Another trap to escape.

“How did you know?” I asked him as I thought frantically for a way out of this scenario.

“I know my wife,” he told me with eyes that said he wanted to devour me on the spot. “I told you, Legaci, you are my soul mate. I know you in and out,” he stood and stepped to me. “Mentally and physically.”

Immediately my skin felt flushed. My heart beat against my rib cage like a criminal banging on bars for freedom. He felt as if he knew me. But he didn’t know me. Because if he did, instead of standing there wanting to make wild and passionate love to me, he would be standing there wanting to choke the life out of me. No, Asanti didn’t know me at all. He knew only what and who I showed him I was.

And from where I was standing, beneath the polished veneer that I was showing him, I was no good to the core.

“Baby, why would you take a commercial airline back with such a pressing issue at hand?” I blabbed out. “Why wouldn’t you take a private plane? It’ll get us there much quicker.” I was desperate.

“Because my dear, the building is burning already,” he rationalized. “Whether or not I get there in the next hour or the next five hours won’t put the fire out any faster. Besides, from what Bernard just told me right before you got here, the fire looks like it’s going to be burning for some hours still.”

He had a good point. I needed a better one. And I needed it fast.

“I’d feel a whole lot better if we could get there and take care of things sooner rather than later.” That was all I had at the moment. All I could come up with. “In fact I’d feel a lot better if I could wipe that stressed look off of your face. Forever.”

My handsome husband raised one eyebrow as if surprised at my concern. “Really?” He spoke with a sexiness that made me want to melt at his feet.

“Yes,” I pressed my body to his as if to hug him. “I love you and I hate seeing you look like that. I hate the look that the fire has put on your face.”

“Well then,” his voice was low and smoldering, “if the lady wants a private plane, then the lady gets a private plane,” was all he said before grabbing my hand again and walking in the direction of the Airline receptionists to return the tickets.

Thank God was all I could think.

Chapter 9

In less than thirty minutes we were in the air and the next commercial plane to leave for our destination still hadn’t even landed or unloaded its current passengers yet. I had successfully dodged yet another bullet and saved us considerable time. Or rather, saved myself considerable drama, pain, and suffering.

It was a shame that all I could think about was me when I had an entire family that was thinking, and stressing, about me as well. I should have been more concerned about them, but instead, I was more concerned and worried about myself.

How sad.

As I sat on the plane looking out of the window, my husband, the other one, sat next to me talking on his phone. “Yes, I’ll be there sooner than expected… The damages… Took a private…” He was all business and I stopped hearing him once we were in the air.

I looked down on the city of New Orleans with fear and trepidation in my heart. I had a husband and children down there. A husband and children that I had just abandoned because I was too afraid to face them.

How could I look them in the eye and tell them that I wasn’t the woman they believed me to be? Hell, I wasn’t even the woman I had believed me to be anymore. And why? I had no idea why. So I looked over to Asanti thinking that maybe the sight of him would give me the answers I sought. But when I looked to him all I saw was him looking back at me.

And my first family, along with their care and concern, was long forgotten.

His telephone conversation was over and I was the sole of his focus.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He questioned me.

“Just reflecting on how quickly things change,” I replied truthfully.

“Do you like those changes?” He assumed that I was talking about him.

“Yes,” I replied quickly and without qualm.

I did in fact like some of the changes. Like the mind blowing, back blowing, uterus blowing sex. I just didn’t like all of them.

He seemed to sense something in my voice. Seemed to sense my worry. “Don’t stress yourself, sweetheart. Everything with my restaurant will be fine. I just talked to my executive chef and the fire is under control. Still not out, but under control. There’s major damage, but less than what was originally thought.” Yes, my husband sensed my worry, but his assumption that I was worried about his business was the wrong assumption. “Here,” he spoke to me again as he got up and out of his chair to stand behind mine. Then he began to massage my shoulders, “How does that feel?”

“Wonderful,” I told him as I closed my eyes and sank deeper into the plush, cream colored seats of the plane.

His hands were amazing, going straight to the tightness in my shoulder blades and kneading the knots out. Running up and down my neck, applying the appropriate amount of pressure as I moaned and sighed deeply. His fingertips walked, eased, slowly from my suddenly relaxed shoulders, under the collar of my blouse, down my chest, over my breasts until they were under the lace of my bra.

I was instantly wet, wickedly thinking of my own decadent needs instead of the needs of my husband Ashton and my three children. But I felt as if I couldn’t help myself. Asanti’s touch was blazing. Searing my skin. Destroying my ability to think, to care. Soon I became lost in him and no one else mattered. Nothing else existed. Only his touch.

I was completely addicted to him.

I delighted in the roughness of his hands gliding over my sensitive flesh and making contact with my budding nipples. On a sensual sigh I allowed my head to fall back as he slowly unbuttoned my blouse, unhooked my bra, exposing my breasts to the air confined to the plane. Then I felt him get a firm grip on my breasts and begin to massage them in a way that had me on the verge of an explosion.

I moaned softly.

Remembered nothing except the feel of his hands on my tender skin.

In what seemed to be a heartbeat, I could feel him in front of me, kneeling down, ripping my already ripped slacks. The same slacks he’d ripped earlier that day. He spread my legs. Massaged my thighs. Tickled my kitty.

I sank deeper and deeper into the world he was creating. Farther and farther away from the one that I needed to deal with, farther away from the one in which a crisis was being experienced because my family, my primary one, believed I was missing.

But I wasn’t missing.

I was in the arms of another man.

Another husband.

Asanti.

My Asanti.

“Aaaaahhhh,” I cried out as he ripped the first orgasm out of me with nothing but the use of his fingertips.

“Give me more,” he told me as his fingers delved inside. Seeking, probing.

I eagerly spread my legs as wide as I could get them. Gyrated my hips. I was hot for him. Hot for him to take me. Then I felt his lips on mine. His tongue licking my lips, his teeth biting them. Slowly he slid his mouth down my chin, my neck, blazing a heated trail of succulent kisses that had me on fiyah. Over the top of my bosom, down slope until I could feel the heat of his mouth on my protruding bead.

“Oooohhhhhh, babyyyyy,” I moaned when he bit gently. Again. And again.

“Give me more,” he repeated demandingly as he suckled and nursed on me.

Licking.

Biting.

Sucking.

And the liquid eased out of me like hot lava from a volcano.

Then he was there. Before I could think straight. Before I could recover from the orgasm gripping me, I could feel him there. His tongue slipping in and out of me. His lips sucking on my hard diamond. I gripped the arm rests at my sides, dug my nails in. My toes curled. My body shook and shuddered. My back arched. My hips rose from the seat.

“Aaaaahhhh,” I couldn’t contain the moan.

I opened my eyes and looked down at him. He was looking at me. Enjoying himself as he feasted on me. Watching me. Garnering great pleasure from what he was doing to me. And my body went into spasms.

Hard.

Asanti had me on the edge of insanity and refused to let me go over. My thigh muscles clinched. My arms trembled as I practically dug holes into the buttery seats. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All worries flowed from my body as I bit down on my lower lip.

“Baby, please!” I begged him. “
Please
,” I begged him again. To release me. To allow me to release again.

But he wouldn’t.

Instead he removed his mouth from me, and with lightning speed that I didn’t know he possessed, he plunged into me. And I screamed.

Loud.

Hard.

Then he thrust. Deeply. My legs wrapped around him. Gripped him tightly. From my half lying, half sitting position I rode him. Wild and fast. Furious and untamed. I reached my arms out for him. He lowered his upper body to mine and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He slipped his arms under me and grabbed my shoulders tight. He thrust into me and holding my shoulders, pushed me deeper onto him. Thrust and pushed. Thrust and pushed. Until I was seeing stars.

“Give me more, Legaci,” he commanded as he thrust once again. Lowered his lips to my breasts. Bit into my nipple. Thrust again. Faster. Faster. Repeatedly. I was reeling. The cabin was spinning. “More of you, all of you,” he growled into my ear moments before he bit and tugged the lobe with his teeth.

I was done.

The boiling essence of me poured out and onto him just as his scalding hot cream saturated my core.

I shook and trembled. Moaned and screamed. Stuttered and stammered.

And he called out my name.

I didn’t need the plane to be flying among the clouds. All I needed was Asanti. I had him. And that was enough.

The first thing I reflected on when my mind returned to reality was how much I loved that man. A stranger. Someone that I hardly knew. And yet I loved him as if my life depended on it. And how could I not when he put my needs ahead of his own even when his needs were more pressing? I looked up at him as he dressed me and I sat in wonder. Absolute wonder. He smiled down at me.

And my heart melted.

“Are we feeling better, my love?” Amazing. The man was purely amazing. There he was trying to relieve me of all stress, trying to ease my mind, and one of his restaurants was ablaze. All I could do was smile. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he spoke when he was done making sure that I was in tip top condition.

Then he took his seat next to me and grabbed my hand.

“Thank you,” I told him.

“Actually you’re the one who’s owed thanks,” he responded. “Just you being here makes me feel much better.” He then kissed me gently on the lips.

And I felt like the devil.

Did he have to be so wonderful? So charming? So loving?

Did I have to be such liar? Bringing nothing but drama and pain into his life?

I was so lost. So confused. So tormented. So in love. But how could I love Asanti when I loved my husband? My first husband. The man I’ve shared a home with for many years. The man I shared children with. The man I shared a life with.

And there was no doubting my love for Ashton. No possibility of doubt when it came to my love for him. Ashton was my soul mate. The love of my life. The man I’d given my all to. And if all of that was true, if everything I believed was factual, why the hell was I on a plane with a stranger who had just fucked me stupid?

I had no answer for that. So I simply leaned over and kissed him right back.

The plane dropped down in Los Angeles in what seemed no time at all, and the second I turned my phone back on it was ringing like crazy. The Bentencourt’s were calling. The Bentencourt’s wanted answers. Answers that I still couldn’t give them. Answers that I didn’t have. So I pushed them out of my head, my husband and my children, I ceased all thoughts of them and focused on the man that was at my side.

At that moment I was a Styles. The Bentencourt’s would have to wait. Quickly, while my husband was thanking the pilot, I silenced my phone again.

The private car that awaited us was swift in getting us to where we needed to be. The scene was an absolute wreck. Although Asanti told me that the damage to his restaurant was far less than what was expected, the bistro was still in a state of shambles. I had never seen the building before and still I was unable to recognize it as a building. If that was minimal damage I would have hated to see what maximum damage looked like. However, I did my duty as a wife and was there with my husband as he worked. I stepped back, stood in the background and watched him take over and handle the situation like the boss that he was.

For a while I observed him, looked on as he gave orders and commanded the scene like that was what he was born to do. I paid close attention while he controlled his world. Exercised dominion over everything that belonged to him. But as the time passed, I realized that my world was completely out of control and my family returned to the forefront of my mind.

My husband, the God ordained one, and my children.

I needed to do something about them. I couldn’t just leave them to worry about me while I gallivanted around the United States catering to another man. Or rather, while another man was catering to me. I had responsibilities to the Bentencourt’s. Responsibilities that I needed to handle.

While Asanti was dealing with his crisis, I took that time to get back into the car and handle my own crisis. The hour had come for me to deal with family number one.

When I was sure that my husband of the moment was busy and distracted enough not to notice I was missing, I eased over to the car and entered it. Then I locked the doors, engaged the privacy screen, and turned my phone back on so that I could deal with my husband of decades.

“London, baby please call home and let us know that you’re okay. We’ve been worried about you all day. I’m stressed. The kids are stressed. This is not like you. We’re really worried about you. Please call or come home now. We’re praying for you,” came the voice of my Ashton in my voice mail. He sounded completely distraught.

I was the cause of that stress.

“Mommy, where are you?” The next member of my family said. It was my daughter, Amaya, the baby girl. “I’m scared that something happened to you, Mommy. Please come home.”

My heart constricted. Pounded. Rattled my bones. I felt like the biggest hypocrite. What was I doing? What was I doing to my family? Who had I become? This was not who I was. I hung my head in shame as I continued to listen to the next message.

“Mom, where are you? Daddy is really worried and we’re beginning to think something bad happened. Please call us. Please.” Allegra spoke as an adult. My eldest child and oldest daughter sounded utterly disturbed.

Then the messages ended.

Nothing from my son.

Armani’s silence told me more than the voices of the others. He was concerned as well. Worried into silence. How could I justify what I was doing to them? How could I continue on blissfully with Asanti while knowing that my family was going insane more than two thousand miles away? How could I live with myself knowing that they were coming apart at the seams as I was sitting in the back of a limo being Mrs. Asanti Styles?