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Authors: Niobia Bryant

Mistress No More (8 page)

BOOK: Mistress No More
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“You back?”
Jaime eyed Pleasure sitting up in the middle of her bed. Naked. Muscled. Strong. Leg bent. Dick laying across his thigh like a snake.
Sexy as shit.
Jaime nodded, wishing her cheeks didn’t feel hot and that her heart and clit weren’t fluttering like butterfly wings.
Jaime had many decisions to make about her life and she knew Pleasure was one of them. “Don’t you want more out of life than selling your dick?” she asked, leaning her bare ass back against her dresser.
He locked his intense ebony eyes on her as he used one strong hand to lazily stroke the long and thick length of his dick. “Don’t you want more out of life than paying for my dick?” he countered, said dick stretching and hardening in his hand.
Jaime’s eyes locked on his erotic movement. Her nipples tingled. “Yes,” she answered, forcing her voice to be as bold.
“Liar.” His eyes and his tone were serious as he massaged the tip.
Jaime felt a little offended. “You don’t think I want a better relationship than . . .
whatever
this is that we have?” she asked, pushing off the dresser to step closer to the foot of the bed.
“I like to fuck and you like for me to fuck you. It is what it is, Jaime. You knew that. You know that.” Pleasure inched his body down on the bed so that he was lying flat, spreading his legs wide as his grip on his dick tightened.
She forced her eyes to stay locked on his, ignoring the way he bit his bottom lip as the stroke of his hands quickened. “So you plan to sell yourself until when? Until you lose your looks and your dick needs Viagra or some shit?”
Pleasure laughed, never once taking his eyes from hers, as he rose to stand in the center of her bed, his deeply dark and delicious dick still in his caramel bronzed hands. “Until women like you no longer need my . . .
services
.”
“So there are more than me?” she asked, hating that his dick was now level with her gaze and she missed not one moment of him shaking his dick at her. Like it was a joke. Like her need for him was a joke.
“You know that and you couldn’t care less,” Pleasure told her boldly, walking down the length of the bed to stand precariously on the edge. He raised one strong arm upward until his hand was pressed to the ceiling and steadying him.
His dick was just inches from her mouth and Jaime could smell that addictive mix of his warm and spicy cologne and the natural scent of him. She cut her eyes up to look at his face. The look of bold conquering was in the ebony depths of his eyes as he tapped his dick lightly against her closed mouth.
Jaime opened her mouth and easily captured his dick between her lips. “Am I the only one you fuck for free?” she asked around her mouthful, feeling it throb like a racing pulse against her tongue.
Pleasure put both hands on the ceiling and arched his hips forward sending a few more inches into her mouth. “Yes.”
It was Jaime’s turn to feel cocky. She jerked her head back and freed his dick from her mouth with a
pop
. “Maybe
I
need to charge
you
?”
Pleasure just laughed.
Ding-dong.
Jaime looked over her shoulder out the door and down the hall at the front door. “Be right back,” she told him, reaching behind the bedroom door for her red satin robe before she left the room.
Bzzzzzzzzz.
Before she could reach the door her cell phone vibrated on the countertop. Jaime grabbed it, looking down at it as she continued on to the door.
A text from a number she didn’t recognize.
“Who is it?” Jaime said loudly through the door, using her manicured thumbs to open the text.
“Your mother, dear.”
And the sound of Virginia Osten-Pine’s voice weakened Jaime to no end. She bit her bottom lip as she glanced back at her open bedroom door. The last thing she needed was her mother finding a sexy stripper, butt naked with a hard dick and a smile, in her bedroom. Jaime just wasn’t up for the histrionics.
“One second, Mother.” She turned and rushed down the hall to her bedroom. Pleasure was back in the middle of the bed, propped up, dick still in hand, sexy smile in place, and ready to fuck and be fucked.
Jaime had to shake herself from the dick trance as she motioned for him to be quiet before she pulled the room door closed. Cell phone still in hand, she tied her robe closer around her body as she rushed back to the front door to pull it open with the biggest and fakest smile. “Good morning.”
Virginia’s critical eyes went from Jaime’s still damp and lifeless curls to her robe. Her disapproval was clear as she strolled past her daughter, dressed in her signature Kasper suit and Evan Picone low-heeled pumps. Her graying curls were pulled back in a low chignon. The café au lait of her complexion—a result of her Korean and African-American heritage—only accentuated by neutral makeup. The perfect socialite wife.
And she’d groomed Jaime to be her clone. Her own Mini-Me.
“You’re not out of bed, Jaime?” she asked.
“Where’s Dad?” Jaime asked, looking out the door and hoping to see her burly father making his way toward the house. Instead, she saw nothing but her parents’ black Lexus LS400 parked behind her Volvo.
“At home.”
Jaime fought hard not to roll her eyes. Her dad was the buffer between them, and now that she had claimed her own life and independence, Jaime needed him more than ever.
“So what are your plans, Jaime?” Virginia asked, sitting down on the sofa and placing her patent leather tote in her lap.
To get fucked before you dropped in,
she thought, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked into the living room. She nearly dropped her cell phone and had to move fast to catch it.
Remembering the text—and looking for a diversion—Jaime used her manicured thumbs to open it. Her eyes widened as she read the entire message. She frowned. Deeply. “Jessa? What the hell?”
“Jaime, it’s rude to play with your cell phone while I’m talking to you.”
But Jaime barely heard her mother. Jessa Bell was up to her games again and frankly, Jaime wanted no part of it. Her marriage to Eric was over and everything before the moment she’d decided to leave his sadistic ass just didn’t matter anymore.
“Sorry, Mother,” she said, deleting the message from her phone and Jessa Bell from her thoughts. “Um, actually I’m planning to start my own business doing interior decorating.”
Virginia Osten-Pine sighed. “What about your marriage?”
“Seriously, Mother, you have to know when to stop beating a dead horse,” Jaime countered, thinking it felt damn good to finally say the words that came to her mind. The words she usually swallowed back in her haste to agree to her mother’s every demand and wish.
“You have to understand Eric’s position with this. I thought it was clear when you two married that he is Catholic and doesn’t believe in divorce.”
“I’m not Catholic and neither are you, Mother. Besides, Eric is suddenly clutching on to his faith to keep me when he wasn’t man enough to do it himself.”
Virginia clutched at her pearls. “But you had the
affair
.”
Jaime almost giggled at the way her mother said “affair” as if just pronouncing the word would send her straight to hell . . . still clutching at those damn pearls. “You ever think he wasn’t man enough to keep me from doing that either?”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open.
“For goodness sake, Mother, the man had me thinking a leprechaun and a pot of gold were easier to get than an orgasm.”
Her mother gasped so deeply Jaime thought she’d choked on a hair ball. She knew she was wrong to enjoy shocking her mother.
“Listen, I’m sorry, but I deserved to feel like a desirable woman and not some clinical, passionless, robotic lay that left me waiting for more all the time.”
Virginia arched a brow as she sat forward to level her eyes on Jaime. “Listen, I don’t know what or who you think you are, but I raised a young, respectable lady and not a—”
Jaime’s face hardened. “Not what, Mother, A slut? A whore? Go ahead. Say it. It won’t be your first time . . . remember ?” she asked, her voice cold as she flung back the harsh words her mother had called her when she’d learned of Jaime’s affair.
Her mother shifted uncomfortably before she rose to her feet, her hands tightly gripping the handle of her tote. “Your father and I are tired of being the victims of whispers and stares and gossip about our daughter. Get your act together, Jaime,” she said, briskly walking to the door and snatching it open.
“Or what?” Jaime asked, her voice cold. Bitter. Hurt.
WHAM!
She turned, surprised to see her mother still standing there after hearing the door slam shut.
Virginia pointed her clear coated nail at her. “Or we will—”
“Come on get this dick.”
It was Jaime’s turn to gasp in horror as she turned. Pleasure stood at the end of the hall, still naked, still sculptured, still holding his hard dick in his hand.
Oh Lawd, whhhyyyy?
Jaime closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands.
“You see, Daughter, I call it as I see it.”
WHAM!
This time Jaime knew her mother was gone . . . .maybe even for good.
“You look like you have a lot on your mind?”
Renee shifted her eyes from some unknown spot on the textured wall of her spacious living room to look at Darren and her son, Aaron, looking at her. “Huh?” she said, setting down the box of brochures she was supposed to be folding before she rubbed her eyes with her fingertips.
“You okay, Ma?” Aaron asked, his face filled with concern.
Neither of the children was taking the news of their father having another child very well. Most days both stayed closed up in their rooms, refusing to have a casual conversation with him, although neither showed any disrespect. Renee hated that they were hurting just like she was.
“I’m good, just ready to get this event all done and over,” she assured him, reaching over to smooth the fine waves of his low-cut hair. “Nothing a long nap won’t help.”
And a stiff drink.
She ignored Darren’s intense eyes on her as he edged forward on the suede sofa to press his elbows to his knees in the distressed jeans he wore with a white collar shirt and a deep navy V-neck sweater. “Your mom does have a lot of work stuff on her plate,” he said, his voice deep and masculine as he gave Aaron a reassuring smile. “It’s all a part of being a busy marketing executive.”
Aaron turned his attention back to the brochures he was helping her fold.
Renee ran her hands through her short ebony curls. “Thank you,” she mouthed to Darren.
In his efforts to help Renee get her shit back together at work—especially for the upcoming fund-raising event—Darren had put in so many hours outside of work. She couldn’t thank him enough.
His presence around her had forced her to cut back on the drinking, but the craving, the thirst, the need for how it made her feel hadn’t let up one damn bit.
When she lay alone in bed at night and remembered the days that she had had the warm body of her husband by her side . . . she drank.
When she gave in to the torture of putting a face to the woman who had fucked her husband . . . she drank.
When she thought of the end of her marriage of over twenty years . . . she damn near swam in the liquor bottle.
Fighting the urge to go into her office for a quick sip, Renee rose to her feet and walked to the front door to step outside. The sprawling homes with landscaped yards looked the same, but absolutely nothing about Richmond Hills felt the same.
Her marriage had changed.
Her friendships had changed.
Her life had changed.
Renee had honestly thought she and Jackson would spend the rest of their lives together in this house in Richmond Hills. She closed her eyes as a sharp and intense pain radiated across her chest.
BOOK: Mistress No More
5.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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