Page 17 of An Illicit Seduction

Joyce regarded her with wide eyes. “I'm suggesting that you use all men for sex. Any man will do since they all have the same parts; he just happens to be in close proximity and already likes you enough to eagerly volunteer for the position.”

Conveniently ignoring the part about Damon, Seraph jerked her neck back and sat up straight in her seat. “Oh, really? Did you use my daddy for sex?”

Joyce narrowed her eyes. “I sure did. Only, I messed around and got pregnant with you ‘cause I was too busy screwing and wasn't paying attention to my ovulation schedule.” She pursed her lips. “You were an accident.”

Shrieking, Seraph jumped up from the table. “Mama, what the hell?!” Calling her an accident was a low blow, and Seraph didn’t know if she wanted to cry or burst into laughter.

Her mother’s stoic expression gave way when she exploded in a peal of laughter. “Uh-huh. That's what your smart ass get.”

Desperately needing to escape the room where so many of her mother’s words made her want to kick something, Seraph left the dining room and walked into the kitchen. She circled the room a couple of times until her head was clear—well, as clear as it could get—then returned to the table where her mother sat watching her with amusement written all over her face. She grabbed her glass of wine, lifted it to her mouth, and tilted it back, draining the remainder of its contents. When she lowered her head, she brought her eyes to a clearly tickled Joyce.

“I should just mind my business; huh, Mama?”

With a twinkle in her eye, Joyce smirked at her only child. “Yeah, that would be a good idea.”

They finished their meal and carried their empty plates into the kitchen where they began to clean up. Once Seraph finished washing dishes, she turned to her mother who was wiping down the stove and counters.

“Mommy?”

Freezing, Joyce peered at Seraph over her shoulder. Seraph understood her reaction. It wasn’t often that she called Joyce “Mommy”. “Yes, baby?”

“Well, since I'm minding my business, can you mind your business too?”

Joyce gasped and dropped the rag she’d been using onto the counter, fisting her hands at her hips as she fought not to laugh. “Excuse me? I'm trying to help you find some business, little girl! All you do is work and go to brunch with your girlfriends.”

Seraph frowned. “I happen to love my job, and I love hanging out with my girlfriends. Those two things make me happy. Is that so wrong?”

They stared at each other for a few moments before Joyce sighed and shook her head.

“No, there is nothing wrong with that. If you say you're happy then, as your mother, that should be my only concern.” She dropped her hands from her waist and shrugged once more. “I suppose I just expect you to be more like me and need a little clitoral stimulation every now and then.

Seraph screamed. “Oh my God, Mama! You have got to chill out!”

Face twisted in confusion, Joyce raised her hands in the air. “What now? I thought we were speaking candidly. Is that not what we’re doing? Did I get it wrong?”

Seraph laughed and crossed the kitchen to wrap her mother in a hug. “No, ma’am. You’re not wrong; I just wasn’t expecting that level of candor. It’s fine, though.”

Joyce leaned back and looked at her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’m positive, Mama.”

“Well, in that case, let me tell you about these adult toys I saw online since you don’t want a man right now.”

CHAPTER TEN

Barbecue Booty

Every spring, Joyce hosted a barbecue for friends and family. When Seraph was little, her father would grill and her mother would make all manner of side dishes. After he passed away when Seraph was twelve, Joyce assumed the grilling duties, and she taught Seraph how to prepare the sides. From then on, the two were a team, and Seraph looked forward to the barbecue every year.

Usually, she was a wonderful co-host, making sure guests were fed and enjoying themselves and keeping glasses full of tea and whatever other beverage they had on deck for the event. She was also a server, keeping dishes full, entertainment host, distributing cards and dominoes, and Don Cornelius, starting the Soul Train line.

This year, Damon’s presence flustered Seraph. She was on high alert, wondering what he was doing, if he was watching her, and most of all, if he was coming for her. Throughout the day, she bustled around her mother’s backyard as usual but with a line of tension drawing her shoulders up to her ears no matter how much she laughed and danced or drank.

It was possible that she was being paranoid. Her mother’s house was full of people, including Damon’s father, Seraph’s Uncle Louis. Surely, Damon wouldn’t do anything outrageous with all of these people here. She tried to convince herself of that, but for some reason, the notion never took root.

At one point, later that day, Seraph noticed that both bowls of chips on the table were running low. She had extras in the house and figured she could pop right in, grab them, and come back out without anyone—Damon—noticing that she had gone. She rushed into the house and stepped into her mother’s tiny, box-like pantry to find the half-empty bags of chips from earlier, and not even twenty seconds later, she felt him behind her. After two months of getting to know him intimately, his mere presence in the room made her body stand at attention, even if he was out of eyesight. This time was no different. There was no need to turn around, to call his name, to ask any questions. She knew without a doubt that it was him, and she also knew without question what he was there for.

Stepping inside the tiny room and pulling the door closed behind him, he pressed his nose against her neck and inhaled deeply. His proximity brought a shiver, and her fingers tightened into fists to keep from reaching for him. His hands came to her hips, the heat from his flesh warming her through her clothes.