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We got in the car—then got the hell out.
I leaned the car seat back, my fingers tapping the steering wheel. We sat quietly, paging through our thoughts, small grins strapped to our faces. Shoot, the only thing missing were cigarettes.
Never thought we’d be in this position. Married seven and a half years and almost succumbed to the so-called Seven-Year Itch. Kisses had pretty much died out; hugs were every so often. The passion in our marriage had slipped away somehow.
Man, how our secret getaways changed all that. A renewed sense of adventure had resuscitated our dying attraction; made two thirty-six-year-olds act half their ages.
Our new magnetism had driven us to Rancho Hills—and dozens of other outdoor spots. That’s one more check mark on our long list of “pubic” places to conquer.
It’s a wonderful thing to rekindle a flame and keep it blazing.
Sonya grabbed a newspaper from the backseat. She flipped through several pages before she said, “Hey, that movie is still in theaters. The one with the really bad reviews.”
I grinned. “Yeah? What times?”
“The last showing is ten-fifteen tonight.”
A minute or two passed. I turned to Sonya, saw the corners of her red-glazed lips creep up.
“So,” I said, “I hear that movie is really, really bad.”
She chuckled. “Yup. Only made a couple mil its first weekend.”
Sonya stroked my knee. She had a naughty glint in her eyes; the same look she’d given me minutes before ending up at Rancho Hills.
“So that means the movie’s so bad there won’t be anyone in the theater, right?”
She nodded. “That’s right.” Her hand crept up my thigh. Yup, that look got more evil by the second. “So,” she said. “Quieres ir al cine esta noche?” Movie tonight, huh? I smiled. We damn sure won’t be watching a thing.
Just Damn Good Sex!
Sólo Sexo Crudo
Naleighna Kai
Well, if you won’t talk to me or let me make love to you…then just stick your honey pot out the front door so I can taste you. At least feed me something, damn it!”
Niyah’s jaw dropped. Her fingers went limp, sending the fine bone china plate tumbling toward the marble floor, where it shattered and flew in a thousand directions. Dinner landed everywhere. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the fact that her neighbors had just heard Mario’s outburst.
Instead of being embarrassed, she said, “Awww, no he didn’t say that!”
She’d never heard him get angry or raise his voice, but now Mario had just told the world he knew her more intimately than some men knew their women—and he wasn’t ashamed!
For a woman who was used to giving up pussy out of both panty legs, his words were more than a chal
lenge—they were a return to the natural order of things.
Her body started melting at the thought of what that man could do with his tongue, then it trembled at the memory of their steamy nights together. Since she had picked religion over sex, she was surprised by the loneliness of her empty bed. Now, after three months of holding it together, keeping her legs closed, and staying knee-deep in church, Niyah wanted to give in—she wanted to fill that emptiness and her bed again.
Contrary to popular belief, Satan didn’t have a pitchfork, tail, horns, and a red suit. He came under the guise of a surprisingly tall, lean, muscled, well-groomed, curly-haired Puerto Rican with enough fire and passion to start a five-alarm fire.
Mario’s expert tongue belonged in the Porno Hall of Fame. His matching dick techniques would put Doc Johnson products to shame. And since the good “doctor” had been memorialized in some of the world’s most well used dildos and vibrators on the planet—that was truly saying something. Mario’s massive hands could drape across her skin with whisper-soft touches or grip her in the waves of a thundering orgasm and keep her in place until he was done giving as good as he got. He navigated the soft recesses of her dark brown skin and the even softer folds of flesh with unmatched expertise. Cherished the full-curve measurements that pushed her into plus-size status, separating her from the slender sisters. And he enjoyed every inch, exploring her each time as though it were the first.
And she had given him up! What planet did she live on? If giving in right now meant going to hell, Niyah was ready to take a ringside seat by the fire. Mario was that good!
Her wavering resolve, coupled with the fear that Mario might say something else that would put it all out there for her neighbors, should have stirred her to action. Instead, she stood motionless in the center of the living room floor, her bare feet covered with the macaroni and cheese, glazed turkey ham, and string beans she’d reheated for a late-night dinner.
Struggling between desire, common sense, and logic, Niyah broke down. She wanted to be with him so badly it tore her apart. But she had changed from the woman with a For Sale sign on one thigh and an Open for Business sign on the other, to a Bible-wielding, four-days-a-week churchgoing sister. She wanted to stay on the righteous path. Why is this so hard? Why do I miss him so much? Why do I feel so lonely even though I’m doing the right thing?
