Sexual Healing (29 page)

Exasperated, Ramona rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “You don't get
it. “I'd be a fool to give up Moody's money to live in this dump, again.
And I'll be damned if I'm ever going back to the club, swinging my ass from anybody's fuckin' pole—not in this life,” she said adamantly.

“We don't have to stay here; we could move somewhere better, baby,” Cruze said in a desperate voice. “I got some money stashed.”

Ramona shook her head ruefully and audibly sighed. “You don't have the
kind of long money that Moody has, and you never will as long as
you doing grunt work for him. And that's where I come in. I'm gon' make
sure my baby runs with the big dogs. But like I said, you have to be patient.”

Cruze took in several long, deep breaths, trying to steady his racing pulse. “So, you expect me to fall back and wait around while you laying up with that muhfucka?”

Ramona lifted a shoulder and studied her lacquered nails.

Cruze stared at her, pain flooding his eyes. “Do you have any idea how
hard it is to sleep at night when you ain't here?”

“I know, baby. I know,” she soothed. “But it won't be forever.”

“I'm not with this creepin' bullshit with my own girl. How long is it gonna take before we're back like we used to be?”

Ramona shrugged with both shoulders. “That depends on how long it takes for you to learn the business.”

She was promising him something that was so far off in the distant future, he figured he might as well give up all hope of ever being happy,
again. “This is so fucked up, Ramona. Really. Fucked. Up,” he said, pound
ing the bed as he emphasized each word. He took a last puff on the blunt and then stubbed it out. Smoke wafted up to his eyes, burning them. “So, tell me something,” he said, looking at her through eyes that were squinted from anger and the effects of the weed.

“Tell you, what?”

“Do you suck his dick like you suck mine?” The brusque, crude words were spoken with the intention of humiliating Ramona.

But she didn't flinch. “Moody's my man, now. Of course I suck his dick.”

Hearing Ramona refer to Moody as her man made Cruze want to
keel over and die, but he kept it together, leveling a look of disgust at her. He spat twice and fiercely wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Ain't this some shit? I oughta fuck you up. I let you kiss me all over my mouth, never dreamin' you been slurpin' on that muhfucka's dick.”

“Yes, Cruze. I suck Moody's dick,” she said boldly, enunciating each word. “But . . .”

“But, what, you fuckin' ho?”

“But, I don't swallow his nut. I can't. I only swallow your creamy cum
, baby.”

Cruze threw his arm over his head and gave the headboard a backward punch. “That's supposed to make me feel better? I swear to God, Mo, I wish I never met your skanky ass.”

Ramona took a seat on the side of the bed, again. She gently ran her fingers up Cruze's thigh that was covered by the sheet. “I'm sorry, boo. Let me make it up to you,” she said in a sultry tone.

“Fuck, no!” Cruze grabbed a pillow and put it over his lap, concealin
g his dick before she inched her fingers up to it.

“Come on, let me taste that sweet meat,” she crooned with a smile as she tugged on the pillow.

“No! Go on home to your man, and leave me alone.” Cruze stubbornly
kept the pillow in place.

“I miss that thick milkshake, baby. I know your young ass still gotta lot of cum left up in them balls. And I love the way it splashes in my mouth before it slides down my throat.”

Cruze averted his gaze, wouldn't look at her.

“You came in my pussy twice tonight, but you forgot to feed me some of that sweet protein, so stop being stingy.” Her eyes traveled from the pillow up to his face and she could tell by the way he was biting on his bottom lip that he couldn't ignore the offer much longer.

With his dick expanding beneath the covers and with blood rushing to his head, Cruze tossed the pillow aside and lifted the covers. Gripping
his elongated dick at the base with one hand, he roughly pulled Ramona downward with the other. “Suck this shit, you dirty bitch.”

“Yeah, but I'm your dirty bitch,” she said, laughing. She kissed the
head and licked the drippings that seeped from the slit. “Now, say it,” she
whispered with a smile in her voice.

“Say what?” Cruze groaned as Ramona softly fondled his balls.

“Call me a dirty bitch.”

“Ain't no doubt about that. You know what you are,” he responded gruffly
.

“But I'm your dirty bitch, and I know you still love me. Am I right?”

“Yeah, you right. Now, stop talking and get on this,” he said, hips thrusting in sexual need.

“I'll get on it after you say it. You know my mouth gets real juicy when
you call me names.”

All he could think about was how good it would feel to slide his dick back and forth over her moist tongue, and how much he missed shoving his cock down her fleshy throat. Writhing with need and motivated by hot lust, Cruze said in an agonized voice, “You my dirty bitch, and I love you.”

“Aw, yeah, baby. Call me some more names,” Ramona cooed.

“No! I already said that twisted shit. Now, what are you waitin' for—
suck my dick,” he bellowed as a nearly savage lust blazed through him. Every muscle in his body flexed as he thrust upward attempting to stick his dick between her lips. Furious with himself and with her, he clutched
Ramona's hair in both hands. Pulling her downward, he pushed his lengthy
pole inside her warm mouth. She gagged and struggled as he forced his dick deeper into her throat. Cruze held Ramona's head in place while he fed her measured thrusts of hot dick meat. The more she gagged, the slicker his dick became, gliding easily deep into her narrow neck.

There was no reason to be gentle with her. She wasn't his girl, anymor
e. She was Moody's bitch.

With each angry hip thrust, Cruze was growing closer to busting a
nut. He curled his toes and let out a growl as a tingling sensation traveled from his nut sac and down the length of his dick. In a frenzy of lust, pain, and love, he called her a slut, a cum-sucking bitch, and a trifling whore. And he tried to rip Ramona's hair out from the roots when a blast of cum shot out of his dick.

The aftershock from the explosive orgasm caused Cruze's body to quak
e. Completely spent, he released Ramona's hair and collapsed against her, resting his head on her chest.

No longer angry, only weak and defeated, he murmured, “I love you, baby. Don't leave me, Mo. Take your clothes off, babe, and get back in the bed. Please, baby.”

“I have to go,” she said, easing away from him. “But I'll be back.” She
pondered briefly. “Not tomorrow and probably not Monday. But, maybe
I can get away on—”

Cruze pressed his finger against her lips. With misery glistening in his eyes, he said, “Shh. I don't want to be sitting around here, waiting for you. It hurts too much. So, don't make promises you can't keep. Just call me the next time you're ready to see me, ai'ght?”

He hated how he sounded like a straight bitch. He needed to man-up and tell Ramona he wasn't no damn booty call. But instead he said, “I just want you back, Mo. And I'll take whatever I can get. You feel, me, girl?” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“I feel you,” Ramona said, sliding her hand out of his. “Thank God we finally got some kind of understanding.” Ramona smiled and sighed with relief as she extracted her car keys from her new Versace bag, a gift from Moody.

“See you soon, Cruze,” she said, blowing Cruze a kiss before strutting out of the bedroom.

Sitting on the bed, alone and brokenhearted, Cruze rolled another blunt
. He put on his headphones and listened to Jay-Z express his feelings perfectly as he rapped the lyrics to “Song Cry.”

Thirty-One

"I
met someone,” Arabia confided to her sister, Maya. She was the only one of her sisters whom she told such things to; although she knew the minute they hung up, Maya would be on the phone with their other sisters blabbing her mouth, unless Arabia told her to keep it between them.

“Mmm. Oh, okay. So is he married?”

Arabia rolled her eyes. Her sister was being messy. “No.”

“Whaaaaat?”
she screeched sarcastically. “Girl, not married? And
you
like him?”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “I find him interesting.”

“Lord, Jesus,” Maya exclaimed.
“You
find someone who
isn't
married interesting. Oh, I know we're in the last days now.”

“Whatever, smart-ass. I can't stand you.”

Maya laughed. “Lies. You know I'm your favorite big sis.”

Arabia rolled her eyes, smiling. “Maybe.”

“Maybe my ass. So tell me about this
someone
who you met who isn't married. Does he have a girlfriend?”

“No, he . . .” Wait. She had no idea if he did or not. Have one of those. A girlfriend. She frowned. Not that it really mattered. Truth was, he was a distraction. He was everything she craved and shouldn't want, and yet she allowed him to tempt her at every turn. And what disturbed her most was, she
liked
him tempting her.

They'd been talking and texting practically every day since her
last date with him, but she hadn't thought to ask him that. She knew he had to be giving that long, black dick to someone. Still, a part of her didn't believe she had a right to ask considering her own situation.

Yes, she was single. But she was still involved, even if she didn't feel
attached
to any of them. Well—with Theodore dead and Eric now running around like a nut—there was
now
only Wellson, whom she adored, but . . .

“He what?” Maya asked, cutting off her train of thought.

“He doesn't. I don't think.”

“You don't
think?
Well, don't you think you might want to
know?”

Again, Arabia shrugged. “It's really not that important. It's not like I'm trying to marry the man. I simply said I met someone. I didn't say I was running off to elope.”

Maya sucked in a breath. “Now wouldn't that be a treat. You married.”

“Uh-huh. Good luck with that. You have a better chance at having another set of twins before that happens.”

“Girl, shut your mouth. My name is Maya. Not Alexis. I'm not pushing out any more babies, not out of this cooch. I already told Chase if he even thinks it, I'll slice his dick off. And he knows how much I love that thing.”

Arabia groaned. “Ugh. TMI. I don't need to know anything about your love for his
thing
, girl.”

Maya sucked her teeth. “Whatever. So did you fuck him?”

Arabia blushed, feeling heat swirl through her body, remembering how her pussy had sloshed around his dick the night he'd picked her up and thrown her down on his bed, pinning her down and taking what he wanted.

Gone lightheaded, Arabia had cried out in delirious abandon, her nails raking his muscled, sweat-slicked back as he plummeted
her over the edge of bliss with his deep, delicious strokes. His dick feverishly sliced into her cunt, filling her, stretching her, fucking into parts of her body she hadn't known existed. She'd been so wet. No.
Fucking
wet. So wet that her pussy juices sluiced out of her trembling body, and soaked the sheets beneath her.

She had always prided herself on having a juicy snatch, but the way Cruze's cock had slashed into her core, its thick shaft brushing against her quaking walls, stroking over her swollen spot, she was flooded with arousal, drowning in it, like never before.

If his cock had felt that delicious wrapped in latex, she only imagined what it'd feel like naked. Oh how she'd wanted to feel him raw inside her. Oh, God, what the hell had she been thinking? He'd fucked her senseless.

He'd fucked her so hard, so wet. His big dick had plundered all through her pussy, knocking at the opening of her cervix. Surely there had to be a wet stain and the scent of her cunt still lingering in his mattress.

She remembered slapping him for getting all caveman on her, manhandling her. But after that, the world had blurred around her as he pounded into her. He'd fucked her with a savage force, animalistic need and want overwhelming him—and her—as his dick slid in and out of her. She'd never been fucked breathless before.

When she finally blinked him back into focus, he was smirking at her, taking everything she was, everything she'd ever be, and he'd taken it all for himself, leaving nothing for anyone else. He'd fucked her as hard as needed, and she received him willfully. His mouth brushed her neck and then he'd sunk his teeth into the column of her silky skin, eliciting a mewling from her.

He'd marked her. Let whoever else she was fucking know that she'd whored herself out to another motherfucker.

Goddamn him.

Cruze Fontaine was everywhere he shouldn't be—in her head, her memories, all over her skin.

The thought alone made Arabia shiver with want.

When he'd finished with her, she'd limped her way to the bathroom to freshen up, hoping whomever else that manwhore was fucking sniffed her out the next time the arrogant fuck had that bitch's ass up, and her face pressed down into his mattress.

Would serve him right.

He was lucky she hadn't been messy enough to leave her panties tossed under his bed.

Ooh, he made her want to—

“Umm, hello?” Arabia heard Maya's bangles clanking as she clapped her hands together. “Are you there? Earth to Arabia.”

Arabia's lids fluttered. “Yes.”

Maya sighed. “Yes to what?”

“Yes, I'm here. And,
yes,
I fucked him.”

“Ooh, you filthy
slut,”
Maya hissed, and then they both burst out in laughter.

“Yes, girl. I'm slutty to the core.”

“Bitch, I can't stand you. When I grow up, I want to be just like you. I love how sexually carefree you are.”

“Life is too short not to be,” she said unapologetically. “I refuse to be deprived.” And, yet, Cruze had managed to deny her his tongue and somehow she was okay with it—for now.

There was something clearly wrong here.

Arabia walked into the kitchen and eyed her smartphone on the bar. She flinched when she saw the number of missed calls and texts. From Wellson. From a blocked number—Eric, she was certain. From her mother.

Ugh, her mother. Why couldn't that woman simply leave her
the hell alone? She added no value to her life. Never had, never would.

She needed to call Wellson, she thought. They needed to have a serious talk. She'd been avoiding him—sort of. Making excuses to not see him. Making herself unavailable to him over the last several weeks. He never pressured her, never made her give more than what she was willing to give. She never imagined ever contemplating ending things with him. She never
wanted
to end things with him. He'd been a constant in her life for the last three years. But now . . .

He wasn't enough.

He'd never been enough.

None of them ever were.

Yet she'd kept him around because she truly liked him. But she loved the trips and the gifts more.

But now she found herself liking Cruze more. They were only fucking. Well, had fucked. And, yet, she felt strangely connected to him. And, for some odd reason, a sliver of guilt surged over her for still being with Wellson, even though it'd been weeks since she'd been intimate with him. It wasn't like she owed Cruze, Wellson, or anyone else any explanations. And it damn sure wasn't either of their concern whom she gave her pussy to, either. But, crazily, she felt she needed, she
wanted
, to break things off with Wellson.

But why?

Cruze offered her no guarantees. She'd just met him, for Christ's sake. So why the hell was she considering abandoning what she knew, what was constant, for some fleeting fantasy with some big-dicked playboy who didn't kiss, or eat pussy?

She needed to stop this foolishness. And stop it now.

“I know that's right,” Maya said, slicing into Arabia's thoughts.
“Do you. Live your life. Now back to this man who you've fucked. Was it good?”

Arabia closed her eyes and shuddered. His touch, his mere presence, alone made her wetter than a lake. The man made her want to crawl out of her skin. He made her come hard. Made her pussy hot. Made it spew her juices like an erupting volcano.

“Yes, girl. It was. Had
me
in
my
car driving down to Philly for it.”

Maya laughed. “Ohmygod.
You
driving to a man for some dick? Oh yes, the world is definitely coming to an end.”

Arabia rolled her eyes up in her head, but she laughed as well. “Whatever.”

“So far, I like him.”

Arabia's cell buzzed. She stared at the caller ID, and smiled. Thick Chocolate. The name she'd programmed into her phone for
him
. Her body flushed at the thought of him.

God, she had to get ahold of herself before she went up in flames. She pushed the phone aside in a feeble attempt at not answering. She didn't want to come off desperate. Thirsty. Hungry.

But, shit—she was
desperate
, for more of him. She was
thirsty
, for another taste of him. She was
hungry
, for more of his good fucking.

She smiled. “Yeah, I like him, too.”

Maya chuckled.

“What's so funny?”

“Oh nothing. I was thinking, what if you've finally found someone you can love.”

Arabia coughed. “Oh, no, bitch! Don't curse me. You know I'm severely allergic to
that.”

“Girl, bye. How would you know? You've never
been
in love.”

“Well, I've been in
like.
Close enough.”

Maya snorted. “Lies. But you keep telling yourself that. Then again, this is you we're talking about. Miss Heartless. So, yeah, you might be right.”

“Ohmygod, Maya. Kiss my ass. I'm not
heartless.”

“Okay, Arabia. Whatever you say, boo.”

Arabia's phone vibrated, and this time it was a call. Thick Chocolate.

Heat swept through her.

Oh, God . . . fate or omen?

The devil was trying to make her sin.

She wanted to answer. Wanted to hear his voice.

And she had to fight an inner battle to not want those things. She had to fight the urges, even as the sight of his name on her screen sent a flutter of butterflies twirling in her stomach.

The call went into voicemail.

“Anyway. Does this someone you
like
have a name?”

Arabia smiled. “Yes. Cruze.”

“Cruze?”
Maya repeated. “What kind of name is that? Is he black? Please tell me he isn't some white man, Arabia.”

Arabia laughed. “No, Maya. Relax. He's not white. He's very much black.” She licked her lips at the thought of suckling his dark berry to get to his sweet juices.

She yanked her phone from the counter, and texted.
HEY

She was holding her cell, staring at it, when it buzzed in her hand.

WYD?
he texted back.

“Well, that's a relief. Is he mixed?”

Arabia shrugged, then shook her head. “I don't know. With his high cheekbones and smooth dark skin, he could have some West Indian in his blood. Or maybe he's . . .”

THINKING ABOUT U
,
she responded back in earnest. It was the truth.

“Or maybe he's what?”

Arabia shook her head. “Straight from the Motherland. No. He
is
from the Motherland. He's an African warrior.” Mmm. Hung like a Zulu god.

AWW. DAMN. THINKIN ABOUT U 2

Arabia grinned, then bit into her bottom lip.

She wanted to see that man. Had to see him.

I'LL CALL U. 5 MINS?

Seconds later, he sent another text.
COOL

She set her phone down, her body overreacting and overheating to raw feelings of excitement, desire—and need. God, he made her feel so vulnerable and raw, like he was peeling her skin back and opening her up.

She couldn't wait another moment longer. “Maya, I love you, girl,” she said abruptly. “But I gotta go. I'll call you one day next week.”

“Well damn. Who said—”

Click.

She ended the call, before she could finish her sentence. Then she reached for her cell again.

And called
him
.