Sexual Healing (22 page)

Twenty-Three

A
rabia blinked.

Then blinked again.

No, no, no. She had to be seeing things.

Ghosts.

Impersonators.

Some
thing.

Because there was no way in hell Eric would be standing in the lobby of her damn building. But he was. And he spotted her the minute she stepped through the glass doors, and was now stalking toward her, a scowl on his face.

Her heart dropped.

She thought to run out of the building and scream for help, but then quickly dismissed that absurd idea. She'd look straitjacket crazy making a mad dash out into the busy streets, hiking up the hem of her eleven-hundred-dollar dress and sprinting in her six-inch heels. No. There was no need to run. This was the safest place. Besides, he wasn't wielding a gun or brandishing an electric saw, so she didn't think she'd be in too much of danger.

Still, she slid her hand down in her purse and grabbed ahold of the canister of mace she kept tucked inside, just in case.

“E-eric,” she stammered when he reached her. “W-what are you doing here?”

“You won't take my calls,” he said in a deceptively mild tone, his
narrowed gaze aimed at her. “And you insist on ignoring my texts. So you've left me no other recourse, Arabia.”

Since the night she'd been forced to end their affair, he'd gone from calling her from restricted numbers to calling from phone numbers she wasn't familiar with when she'd stopped taking calls from blocked callers.

She didn't know if he was using prepaid cell phones, or changing his number using Google Talk. All she knew was, this shit was getting old.

She bared her teeth. “You have no business just showing up here, Eric.”

“We need to talk.”

Arabia huffed impatiently. “No, Eric. We have nothing to talk about. I told you it was best we end it, and then you took to calling me out of my name.” She shook her head. “So, no, Eric. You've said all I needed to hear.”

His eyes narrowed. “So you're willing to throw away everything we have together, is that it?”

Arabia frowned. “What is it that you
think
we have, Eric, huh?” she hissed. “What, a few nights of fucking every other month or so?”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You can't honestly mean that.”

“Then you're a bigger fool than I thought,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm and low. The last thing she wanted was a scene. “It's over, Eric. Period. Now, I'm asking you nicely to—”

He pulled Arabia into his arms and fused his mouth to hers, cutting off the rest of her words in a hot, breathless kiss that both shocked and enraged her.

Pulling back from him—
whap
, she slapped him with an open hand to the cheek, hard, causing everything in the lobby to go still, and wide-eyed glances to lock on to the couple.

Fire flashed in Eric's eyes, making Arabia instantly regret having done that. Yet, she stood her ground. “Leave, Eric,” she warned,
revulsion twisting her lips. “And don't come back. Or the next time I'll have you arrested.”

She turned to leave him standing there.

His jaw twitched. He was becoming more pissed by the minute, and he was seething as he stared at her. He swore viciously under his breath. This fucking bitch! Since telling his wife that he was in love with someone else, he'd packed his things and was slowly moving them out of the marital home he shared with her. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but his words of wanting out of their marriage had hit her hard, shocking her to her core. And she'd cried and sobbed, and threatened to leave him penniless by the time she was done with him.

At the time, it hadn't mattered. The only thing that mattered was that he'd spend the rest of his life building a life with Arabia, the woman that made his heart skip a beat.

And now this ungrateful bitch was standing here telling him that she wanted nothing else to do with him, after he'd given up everything. He felt like taking his bare hands and wringing her goddamn neck.

But there'd be witnesses, and surveillance footage pinning him to her murder. He couldn't risk that. So, he decided to let this lecherous bitch have a pass for slapping him.

And still his heart ached in his chest.

He hadn't considered this—her wanting to bail on him.

He couldn't fathom her with someone else, some other motherfucker's hands cupping her fat ass. He couldn't imagine her giving her sweet pussy to some other motherfucker, coming all over his mouth the way she'd always come in his; his dick possessing her body.

The thought alone was maddening.

“You can't fucking end it, Arabia,” he snapped, grabbing her by the arm, his grip cutting into her circulation. “And think I'm supposed to be okay with it.”

She whirled in shock, staring at him like he'd lost the rest of his mind. “I just did,” she said acidly, yanking her arm back. “So leave now, or so help me God, you'll be dragged out of here in handcuffs, Eric. I promise you.”

Eric's eyes narrowed as fury washed over his features. His nose flared. His jaw clenched. His expression was murderous. Arabia's glance skittered down to his hand that was closed tightly into a fist. OhmyfuckingGod! He was going to hit her.

“You can't fucking do this to me, Arabia! To us!” he yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth. Arabia felt her knees buckle now that he was speaking loudly enough for the entire lobby to hear. So she did the only thing she could to disarm him. She quickly yanked out her can of mace and began spraying wildly in his face.

“Ahhh, shit!” he screamed, his hands flying up to his face. He coughed and gagged. “You fucking ass-licking bitch! Dick-sucking whore!” And she sprayed him again for good measure.

He tried to lunge at her, stumbling.

But then to her surprise—and relief—two bulky security guards materialized in a matter of seconds, charging out of nowhere to intervene, roughly snatching Eric up and tossing him like a rag doll back and forth between the two of them, before dragging him toward the door, and tossing him out on his ass.

The doorman rushed to her side. “Asshole,” he muttered. “I knew something was off with him the moment he walked inside here.” He shook his head, bringing his attention to Arabia. “Are you okay?” he asked in a gentle tone.

She nodded. “Yes, yes. I'm fine. Thanks.”

But the truth was, she wasn't fine. She was utterly embarrassed. Eric had come to her place of residence and caused a scene. She would have never thought he would turn out to be so goddamn messy. She was beside herself with disgust.

She grabbed her aching arm. Great. He'd bruised her. Bastard.

“Would you like for me to call the police?” he asked, walking her to the elevators.

She groaned inwardly. Oh God no. The police were the last thing she wanted called, even though she had threatened to call them herself. Still, the last thing she needed was the police showing up at her building for a domestic violence dispute.

“No, no. It was just a silly misunderstanding,” she quickly asserted. But Arabia didn't miss the quick lift of the doorman's one eyebrow as if to say
yeah—right.

Arabia shot him an icy look—a warning to mind his goddamn manners, as she pulled out her key card and inserted it. The doors to the elevator slid shut in his face, and Arabia fell back against the paneled wall, shaking.

• • •

“Can you believe that shit?” Arabia hissed, pacing the carpeted living room floor as she spoke to her sister, Maya, over the phone. “That crazy bastard showed up here, then had the nerve to put his hands on me.”

Maya gasped. “Girl, I can't. You mean to tell me he
hit
you?”

She huffed. “No, Maya. He
grabbed
me.”

“That's still bad. What did you do after he grabbed you?”

Arabia grunted. “Mmph. What you think I did? I maced him up real good, then watched as security tossed his crazy ass out of the building.” She took a deep breath. “I still can't believe he showed up here and embarrassed me like that. The goddam nerve of him! And now I have this nasty-ass bruise on my arm, thanks to him.”

“Ohmygod, girl. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Did you call the police?”

Arabia's eyes flew open. “Hell no. And have my neighbors gawking at me, and whispering shit behind my back about me? I don't think so.”

“But what if he comes back again, and tries to hurt you, Arabia?” Maya asked, alarm ringing in her voice. “You should at least file a report against him.”

Arabia sighed. “I guess. But I don't think he'd be crazy enough to show his face here again. Not after what happened. Eric might be acting crazy right now, but he isn't stupid.”

“I hope you're right,” Maya said, not sounding the least bit convinced. God she hoped Arabia was right about this Eric guy, but he sounded like he had a few screws loose.

Arabia shuddered. “Maya, you should have seen the look in his eye. If looks could kill, I know I'd be dead right on the spot. And why is his leaving his wife my fault? I didn't ask him to. I tried to encourage him to stay with her ass. What the hell do I want with a cheating man?”

Maya sighed, shaking her head. She loved Arabia, but she felt her younger sister was reckless when it came to men—married men, that was. And she feared something like this—or worse, would eventually happen. She wondered if Arabia even remembered the drama she'd experienced her junior year at Spelman. Marcus, if Maya remembered correctly, was his name. He was almost nine years older than Arabia, and very married. But when Arabia tried to break it off with him—after only four months, he became obsessed with her to the point that he'd stalked her, showing up at campus and camping out outside the gates of the condominium she shared with one other girl.

Arabia had to file an order of protection. But that hadn't stopped him from walking up on campus one spring afternoon, and snatching her by the back of her hair and beating her in front of her peers. She ended up being rushed to the hospital with a mild concussion, a broken eye socket, and three cracked ribs.

He'd tried to beat her half-to-death.

Luckily, a group of fraternity brothers intervened and held him down until the police arrived. He'd been charged with aggravated assault and violation of a protection order, then, eventually, sentenced to four years in prison. If Maya wasn't mistaken, that order of protection was still in place. Still, she had hoped, along with her two other sisters, that that dreadful experience would have been Arabia's wakeup call, but obviously not.

“Look, Arabia,” Maya said evenly. “You've had a good run with these married men. Maybe it's time for you to leave them alone. Besides, extravagant trips and jewelry, what are you really getting out of it? You can't possibly be happy with—”

“I am happy,” Arabia snapped, cutting her sister off. She didn't need this shit right now. She hadn't called her to be chastised. She needed a moment of compassion from Maya; for her to simply let her vent; not get all goddamn Mother Teresa on her. “I have a fabulous career. I own my own home. I have money in the bank. And I live my life on my own terms. What more could I possibly want?”

“Arabia, no one is discounting the fact that you've done well for yourself, and I am proud of you. We all are. But, at the end of the day, all of your success means nothing when you have no one to share it with.”

Arabia blinked. “What do you mean, I have no one to share it with? I have
you,
and two other sisters when you get on my nerves.”

Maya chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course you have me, girl—
even
when I get on your nerves. But that's not what I'm talking about. And you know it. I mean you have no one special in your life to share those things with. Don't you want love?”

Love?

Oh God, that word sounded so damn dirty.

She wasn't about to let that filthy thing get ahold of her heart,
infecting her with its toxic lies and mystical promises of a happily-ever-after—that she knew didn't exist. No, no, love was not about to have her somewhere wringing her hands at night stressing over a man, or twisting her edges out worrying about what some man was or wasn't doing when she wasn't around. She learned a long time ago that a hard dick had no conscience, so she'd be damned if she'd spend her energy worrying over whose sheets it was staining up. No. She wasn't about to babysit no damn dick, monitoring it. No, no, no. She wasn't built for that type of life. Them silly bitches chasing behind a cheating man could have that craziness.

Arabia was fine with her life
exactly
the way it was.

As far as she was concerned, love was pain. And she was allergic to both.

“No, thank you,” she simply replied. “The only thing I will ever love is the idea of being stress free.”

Maya huffed. “Whatever. I'm not saying jump out and fall in love with the first man who waves
hello.
All I'm saying is, be open to the idea.”

Arabia cringed. The only thing she was opened to was . . .

“Goddamn, Arabia. I'm feeling the shit outta you . . .”

Arabia's pulse quickened. His name momentarily escaped her. It was at the tip of her tongue, dammit. But everything else about him was stamped into her memory. Heat splintered through her pussy, and she felt herself growing wet. Oh God, what was happening to her?

She could feel the way her body had opened to the length of him, clutching the width of him, welcoming his thrusts.

Ooh, she was such a naughty bitch, fucking
him
in that bathroom stall like that. The sordid act had been deliciously dirty. He'd fucked her wickedly. The memory alone sent her teetering practically on the brink of an orgasm.

God, what was his name again?