Saje looked at me as if to say, “But…” However, with the glare I now had in my eyes, she knew better than to argue. The situation was already awkward enough, especially with my wood still buried between her legs.
“Whatever, Reason.”
Ann rushed out of my office without saying another word. Her sudden movement ended the stare down between my wife and me. I was sure my secretary walking in on us wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever seen in her life. Ann would be okay. I always tried to be respectful and keep shit professional, but sometimes niggas slip up.
Saje’s pussy muscles wrapped around me tightly, like she was trying to punish me. All it did was make my dick grow longer and get stiffer. Making her explode and busting a nut were the only things on my mind. I grabbed Saje’s neck and banged into her fat pussy as thoughts of Ann catching us quickly faded away.
CHAPTER 3
EMBER
After a long workday, all I could think about was having a peaceful night. Sadly, in my apartment complex, peace wasn’t ideal, but a girl can only wish. When my neighbors weren’t arguing about who was cheating, or the children upstairs weren’t running around like they were players on a football field, or when the neighborhood teen girls weren’t fighting over the new cutebumwho moved into the area, my man, Shane, and I were the ones giving the tenants an earful.
Shane and I had been together for four years, and it had been anything but healthy. Many times, I pondered what kept me stuck, and I prayed daily for the strength to leave a nigga who literally did nothing for me but cause me stress and confusion. Shane had a part-time job as a basketball coach at a nearby high school, but I couldn’t tell because he didn’t help with any of the bills. He didn’t make much, but he could have at least taken care of the smallest bill. Not only that, but he also didn’t know how to fix anything around our rundown apartment. Things were constantly breaking, from the toilet and faucets to the floor heater, along with other parts of our place that needed fixing every so often.
He was what I called a good-for-nothing type-of-brother, yet I still found it hard to leave him. I didn’t know if it was the dick, me thinking he hadpotential, or maybe it was both. I met Shane at a bar one night when I thought drinking my pain away was the answer that would make my hurt vanish, even if it was only temporary. It had been a year since losing Aunt Patty, and I was still taking her death hard. But thoughts of my aunt weren’t the only thing that altered my mental; everything I’d gone through in my life was on my mind too.
I sat at the bar, tossing back drink after drink with tears running down my face. Shane approached me, and initially I brushed him off, but he was persistent. It didn’t take long for the alcohol to kick in and vulnerability to settle in. Shane was charismatic, funny, and a listening ear when I vented to him about my aunt’s death, my breakup with my high school sweetheart, being a young mother, and anything else I wanted him to know about me that night. He caressed me like he cared, like he’d known me all my life. Made me feel wanted, had me giggling, and before the night was over, we were tangled between the sheets at his uncle’s place.
After that night, we spent every day together, and the way he made me feel made it easy for me to start loving him. The fairy tales he promised me didn’t make it any better. I was in it for the long run. I thought I knew him well enough to move him into my apartment. It didn’t matter to me that he didn’t have his own. He told me everything I wanted to hear, and as his woman, I believed him. But once he moved in, I learned fast that it was all part of his game. Shane gave me just enough to shut me up and keep me off his back. When I began to question his motives, he would deflect, which made me end up questioning myself.
The bad outweighed the good, but that small ounce of hope lingered and made me hold on. It was as if I gave him access to take control of my heartstrings. I felt weak whenever I lethim get away with doing me wrong. I’d become accustomed to nothing but disappointment after disappointment, and I found it hard to figure out why I couldn’t love myself as much as I loved that nigga.
Shane was the first guy I allowed to get close to me since Rhema’s father and I went our separate ways eleven years ago. Even thinking about the ending of her dad's and my relationship left a lump in my throat every time he crossed my mind. It was something I still hadn’t healed from, and I did everything I possibly could to bury those memories. I tried to look at it as a case of two high school sweethearts who needed to walk different paths in life, and that’s where I left it. This could be one reason why I let Shane get away with so much, because I was trying to fill some type of void, but even after years, there was still a deep hole in my heart.
I inhaled and closed my eyes, trying to get the old memories to subside. The loud squeaky noise from my brakes got my attention and made me get mad all over again at Shane. He knew how many things were wrong with my car, and not once had he gone to get it checked.
I hurriedly found a parking spot on the street, gathered my things, and rushed inside my apartment. When I walked inside the small, tiny space, all the lights were out, and there was no TV on in the background. I know I said I wanted peace, but that included having my daughter here.
Fuck, Shane. Where the fuck is my daughter?It was evening time, and by now Rhema would’ve been watching TV or doing homework.
Ignoring the pounding in my chest, I tossed my bags on the kitchen table and watched a few baby roaches scatter. “Ugh,” I squealed, almost jumping out of my skin. It didn’t matter that I was used to seeing those little critters; I still hated them.
I snatched my bags off the table and looked around for a safe spot to put them. After hanging them on a rack in the living room, I dug through my purse for my phone to call Shane’s ass.
Shit!
I had six missed calls; I must’ve forgotten to take my phone off ‘Do Not Disturb’ after being harassed all day by bill collectors.
All the calls were from Rhema’s after-school instructor, Mrs. Byrd, a beautiful Black woman in her mid-forties who was blessed with the skin color of deep cocoa and a body that would put any young girl to shame. When she called, I knew it had to be one thing.
Embarrassment washed over me as I tapped on the last missed call. While I waited for her to answer, I hadn’t noticed I was gnawing on the inside of my cheek. I stopped and prepared to hear what Mrs. Byrd had to say.
After what felt like a hundred rings, she picked up. “Ember, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”
“Uh, I hope so. Mrs. Byrd, I apologize for missing your calls. Is Rhema with you?”
I heard her swallow. “Yes, Rhema is still with me, but I called because it’s about two hours past pick-up time. Honey, she’s the only student here. I’ve been waiting with her since five o’clock.”
I gazed at the clock on the wall. It read 7:12 p.m.Fuckin’ Shane!I gave that nigga one job since I would be working late, and he couldn’t even do that. His bitch ass was going to hear from me later. I snatched my car keys off the counter, sweat beading on my forehead, and stormed out of my apartment.
“Mrs. Byrd, please forgive me. I thought Shane picked her up.”
This wasn’t the first time Shane had let me down when it came to picking Rhema up, but I believed he would prove me wrong each time. He always had a legit explanation for why hecouldn’t get her, but that didn’t stop my dissatisfaction. It was unfair to Rhema and Mrs. Byrd, who had to adjust her schedule every time I had to work late and rely on Shane to get her, and he didn’t. I was tired, so tired of having expectations from a man who fell short more times than he showed up for my child and me.
I already felt guilty about being away from Rhema for a long period of time, but if I didn’t pick up extra hours at work, we wouldn’t have a roof over our heads. I couldn’t afford to pay someone to watch her, so her attending the afterschool program was the best option. It was free, they assisted with homework, and they provided hot meals for the kids. This was something I was grateful for, because for many nights, I couldn’t afford to put dinner on the table. But on those nights, Rhema had a full stomach, thanks to the extra portion of food she was given.
Mrs. Byrd was heaven-sent in our lives. Often, she had to stay behind with Rhema, but not once did she complain. She’d come through for us more times than my own boyfriend had. I didn’t tell her any of my business, but somehow, Mrs. Byrd understood shit I didn’t have to say out loud. It was as if she could see through my layers of pain. Like my heart was exposed when she was around.
