One Taste (6 page)

W
hile her husband had decided to pass up his day off to labor at his cleaning business, Regina had spent an entire Saturday relaxing in bed, indulging her sensuality. Private sessions with her new sex toy had become more than just a pastime. Each time Regina eased the vibrating penile object into her hot spot, she became more attached, more dependent on the mechanical device.

The need to relieve her sexual tension was bordering on obsession. A magnificent obsession! Oddly, she now considered her husband a great humanitarian—a living saint. By leaving the house to work on his day off, Matt had inadvertently provided her with extended time and privacy to discover her G-spot. And after that great discovery, she was certain her life would never be quite the same.

Brushing back damp ringlets, the result of intense and repeated orgasms, Regina traipsed down the basement stairs and carefully concealed the object of her obsession. She gave the vibrator one last look before nestling it amid her secret stash. Hopefully her horniness had been satiated for the day, and she’d have the willpower to get through the preparation of her husband’s dinner without interruption.

But it was only wishful thinking. Five minutes into chopping vegetables and boiling water for pasta, she felt the beginnings of a gentle stirring between her legs. She tried her best to ignore it, but the mild arousal began building again until it became incessant hot pangs, insisting she stop everything. Entranced, seeming without a will of her own, she responded to the sex call and obediently covered the pots and pans she’d been tending to and turned off the burners.

But before rushing back down the basement stairs to rip the vibrator from its hiding place, she managed to come out of her sex-induced stupor long enough to call Matt. She needed to gauge how much time she had before he came bursting through the front door.

Matt answered his cell sounding breathless.

“Hi, honey. Where are you?”

“Still working. I’ll be here for another hour or so,” he said, sounding both annoyed and distracted.

Good!
“Okay, I’ll see you when you get home,” Regina replied pleasantly. She had at least another hour of leisure time. She had to hand it to herself, she was fast on her feet. It took some really quick thinking for her to postpone the masturbation session to determine Matt’s whereabouts. God forbid Matt should arrive home and find her lying on her back with her legs agape, moaning in time with the low hum of the battery-operated dick.

After a powerful orgasm, it took a moment for Regina’s heart rate to slow down. Lying in bed, spent and dreamy-eyed, it seemed unfair that she had to come out of her comfort zone and trudge
back down to the basement to get rid of the evidence.
Evidence of what?
she asked herself as indignation propelled her to bolt upright. The only
evidence
in her bedroom was the fact that her husband was terrible in bed! It would serve Matt right if he discovered the imitation dick that was keeping his sex-starved wife satisfied.

In her mind, Matt had been quickly demoted from saint to sinner. She’d asked him to get professional help and he’d refused. Selfish and insensitive, he’d never provided any emotional support after they’d lost their son. He had his nephew. She was left hanging, alone with her unresolved grief.

Exploring her sexuality was an awakening. What the hell did she need Matt for? His money? What a laugh. All his extra money went into his business and she could afford to support herself. It was time to stop accepting their problem. She absolutely deserved a healthy sex life. Feeling sexually attractive was an essential part of a woman’s existence.

Matt, she decided with a sigh, was on very shaky ground.

As Regina flirted with the thought of leaving her husband, she heard his car pulling into the driveway. But she wasn’t as brave as she’d thought. Instead of meeting him at the door and brazenly waving the plastic dick in his face, she stuffed it in her lingerie drawer.

And as far as asking for a divorce…it would be totally out of character for her to make such a brash move. No, she’d have to give the subject a lot more thought.
Calm down,
she told herself. The multiple orgasms were making her lose her mind. Smiling a secret smile, Regina glanced in the mirror and ran a brush through her hair and then went downstairs to finish preparing dinner.

In the confines of his small room, Cochise completed the last set of pushups. He was strong as an ox.
Cock strong!
Yeah, that’s what they said about men like him. Being cock strong and furious was a lethal combination, which was why he’d walked away from the dude who had accused him of stealing his cigarettes. Cochise didn’t even smoke. Had he gripped the brother by the neck the way he imagined himself doing, that man would be dead right now. But Cochise had wisely walked away. His accuser was new in the mens’ house and had mistaken Cochise’s quiet demeanor and reddish skin tone for someone who was on some punk-ass shit. Yeah, Cochise had walked away. It was a slow walk with a defiant swagger and by now the big-mouth dude had been schooled by his housemates that everyone in the Recovery House gave Cochise mad respect.

Drenched in sweat, he yanked the soggy bandana from around his head, allowing a curtain of shimmering blue-black hair to fall past his shoulders. With a hand towel, he dried his hair, face, neck, and massive, iron-hard shoulders. He pulled a dry bandana from the top drawer, gathered up his heavy hair, and tied it back from his face before beginning ten sets of one-arm pushups.

“Cock strong,”
he repeated with a grunt as he lifted his two-hundred-and-fifty-pound muscular frame with one sweat-streaked arm. Many of the recovering females who lived in the womens’ house frequently hit on Cochise, boldly offering sex, but he politely declined. He thought he’d been exercising sound judgment when he got involved with Shawna but their “arrangement” ended on a horrible note. He knew for certain that getting involved with another addict could only be a recipe for disaster.

His thoughts returned to Shawna. He shook his head, sorry that he’d hurt her, disappointed with himself for not recognizing that she’d wanted more than he was able to give. No more friends with benefits, he sternly told himself. One day he’d meet someone special. He knew Tierra would want him to fall in love again. But he wasn’t ready. So, in the meantime, he’d deal with his sex drive by beating his meat. Yeah, until he was completely free of his demons, he’d have to get used to taking matters into his own hands. Literally.

A
lthough the rental agent had given both Matt and Onika a key, the moment they left the office Matt dutifully turned his key over to Onika, placing it in her outstretched hand. Like a lovesick puppy, he followed her from room to room. The place had been freshly painted. A paint-spattered metal chair, two empty cans of paint, a tarp, duct tape, and masking tape were left in a clutter inside the kitchen. “These mufuckas must be crazy leaving all this bullshit for us to clean,” Onika complained. “You need to deduct half of next month’s rent! Humph!” She placed a hand on her lean hip. “I don’t know who they think they fuckin’ with.”

“What do you want to do with the den, baby girl?” Matt changed the subject, hoping to improve Onika’s mood.

“I’m turning the den into a game room,” she said, suddenly cheerful. “I want a PlayStation3 and a sixty-inch plasma screen up on the wall. This room is gon’ be red and black. Red walls, black leather swivel chairs, and we gonna have to pull up these cheap-ass rugs and lay down some thick-ass, ruby-red carpets.”

“I don’t think we can paint the walls or pull up the carpets,” Matt said worriedly. “We can’t deface the property. I’d have to pay through the nose if we put holes in the wall trying to mount a large TV—”

“Whatever,” she said, cutting Matt off. “What they don’t know won’t hurt ’em. Besides, can’t nobody tell me what to do in my own crib,” Onika complained, her lips protruding.

“You’re right, baby,” Matt cajoled. He reached for her hand. “Why don’t you take your clothes off so you can ride my face?”

Eyes widened in disbelief, Onika reared back. She placed a fist on her slender hip. “You must be out of your muthafuckin’ mind! I’m not getting down on the floor with your dumb ass.”

“What’s wrong, baby? You promised.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d have a bed or something in here. I ain’t doing shit until we pick up some furniture. And not no used furniture, either,” she added with disdain.

“Onika. I’m not a rich man,” Matt said, carefully monitoring his tone. “I can’t afford to buy brand-new furniture just yet. Be reasonable, baby.”

Onika folded her arms. “No! Ain’t nothin’ to be reasonable about. Ain’t no furniture up in this dip. Ain’t no dishes, no forks, no spoons…” Onika sucked her teeth. “We ain’t got nothin’ up in here.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said miserably. “You’re right. I should have had more foresight.” He tried to embrace her.

“Don’t touch me! You get on my fuckin’ nerves,” Onika fumed. In a matter of seconds, she balled a fist, drew her arm back, and hooked Matt in his left eye. The sound echoed in the empty apartment. The unexpected power in her small, angry fist knocked his Eagles cap askew.

“Ugh!” Matt grunted. One hand reflexively covered the injured eye. The other hand quickly twisted around the brim of the worn green cap.

“See that shit,” she said, huffing and puffing. “See what you
made me do? That’s what you get for putting your hands on me when I’m mad.”

“I’m all right. It’s okay, baby,” Matt said as he moved quickly to the bathroom to inspect the damage.

Looking more interested than concerned, Onika followed Matt into the bathroom. “Aw, it ain’t nothing,” she said with a
tsk
as she stood behind him and spoke to his unblemished reflection.

“You’re right,” he said, sounding relieved. “But I should probably put some ice on it to prevent any swelling.” Matt turned to go to the kitchen.

“Ain’t no ice in there,” Onika muttered knowingly.

In the kitchen, Matt opened the freezer and found three plastic trays filled with ice.

“Oh, all right,” Onika exclaimed, surprised. “Well, whatchu gonna put it in?”

Matt looked around the empty kitchen, removed his cap and scratched his head.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Wheeler. I got something for you to wrap it in.” Onika’s tone was suddenly soft. Forgiving. And seductive.

Before Matt could respond, Onika pulled down her jeans. Stripped down to a T-shirt and a pair of black panties, she stood with her back pressed against one of the bare kitchen walls. Curling the soft black fabric past her hips, she stepped out of the panties and offered them to Matt. “Here you go,” she said wearing a sly grin.

Matt took the panties. He sniffed the crotch and deeply inhaled her feminine scent. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, Matt licked his lips and began to salivate at the sight of Onika’s pubis. No longer interested in giving himself first aid, he shoved the ice
tray back inside and slammed the freezer door. “Can I taste it, baby? Just one taste?” he pleaded.

A lustful look flashed across Onika’s face. “I’m not even gonna front, Mr. Wheeler. Like I told you, I got a lot of freak in me.” With her penetrating eyes fastened to his, she ran her middle finger over her clit and then slipped it inside. After several thrusts, she held up the glistening finger. “See how my pussy acts when you make me mad?”

“Oh yeah, baby. I see.” He looked at her finger longingly. “Can I taste it?”

Onika extended her finger, offering it to Matt. Then she suddenly snatched it back, taunting him, forcing him to stretch his neck and lengthen his tongue to lick the sticky moisture.

Dipping her long finger in and out of her overly moist pussy, Onika finger-fed Matt her juices. Anxiously, his hand brushed against his crotch, unzipped his pants, and snaked inside his fly. Closing his palm around his erection, Matt stroked his dick as he sucked Onika’s creamy finger.

“Eric called,” Regina told Matt after he got in bed beside her.

“Damn!” Matt groaned. “I promised to drop off the money he needs for his senior class dues.”

“Yes, that’s what he said. He seemed pretty upset. I told him you’ve been so busy lately, it probably slipped your mind.”

“
Busy
is putting it mildly. Trying to get a good day’s work out of my crew is like pulling teeth. Not only do I have to pick them up and drop them off; I have to babysit those lazy grown men….” Matt shook his head in irritation. “I have to go behind them and make sure the job is done right. Running a business is hard work.
Eric’s going to have to understand, I don’t have a lot of free time or money to throw around.”

“Well, Matt you did promise to give him the money,” Regina said logically.

“True. Would you call him for me tomorrow and tell him I’ll write a check and send it to his school?”

“Sure. Speaking of calling Eric, I asked him how he liked his new phone.” With her brow crinkled in confusion, Regina met her husband’s eyes. “Eric said you hadn’t given him a new phone. He didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Matt returned his wife’s confused gaze. Unaccustomed to lying on a regular basis, and unable to concoct a quick excuse, Matt was briefly stumped. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. “Oh!” he finally said with a relieved chuckle. “I forgot to mention it; I returned the phone. Got my money back. You gave me something to think about when you said I spoil that boy. Eric’s never going to learn the meaning of responsibility if I keep giving him everything he asks for. He’s got to be better prepared for the future. I don’t want him to turn out like any of those worthless morons who work for me.”

Regina looked at Matt, surprised. For the past ten years she’d been telling Matt that he spoiled his nephew rotten. Now, though he hadn’t actually admitted that it was wrong to cave in and give his nephew everything he wanted, he’d taken her words into consideration and had quietly returned the cell phone. It felt like a victory. Regina felt a ripple of hope.

“I’m tired,” Matt said stiffly. He turned and switched off the lamp on his side of the bed. After plumping his pillow and snuggling into a comfortable position, he reminded Regina, “Don’t forget to call Eric tomorrow.”

A few minutes later, as Matt snored next to her, Regina reached
over and turned off the light from the matching lamp on her side of the bed. In deep thought, she gazed into the darkened bedroom. She’d give her marriage one last chance. In a day or so, she’d gather her courage and give Matt an ultimatum. She wouldn’t beat around the bush or sugarcoat her words. She’d speak bluntly, tell him straight out that she was at her sexual peak and that after taking matters into her own hands, she’d finally experienced the toe-curling, body-thrashing, heart-pounding orgasm that she’d heard so much about. Now that she knew that she was fully capable of reaching a climax, she’d let him know that she was no longer willing to spend the rest of her life locked in a passionless marriage, aching for sexual release.

If he refused to get help for his dysfunction, she’d have no choice but to end their twenty-year marriage.