AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her stiletto-clad foot pressed down on the pedal and the car flew through another light as it turned from yellow to red.
Roselle—red-skinned with jet-black wavy hair and dark, long lashes (a pretty boy)—cut his eye over at his wife, then flicked his gaze to the speedometer. What the fuck? She was flying. And he had to wonder if she was trying to kill them—him, intentionally.
It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d tried some crazy shit like that. But he wasn’t going to let himself think about her crazy-ass antics. It was too early in the morning for this shit.
The bitch was crazy.
But the pussy was good.
Real good. Wet and juicy good; he had to keep reminding himself of that. Hell, yeah, she had good pussy. And she sucked dick and swallowed. It didn’t get any better than that, crazy or not. Still, she had multiple screws loose.
However, two kids and eleven years later, he had no intentions of leaving her. Like the saying went, it was cheaper to keep her. So fuck a divorce. He’d ride it out with her nutty-ass until she’d had enough and wanted out of the marriage on her own. Until then, he’d be stuck with her evil ass. And he’d keep slinging his dick whenever his salacious urges heated through his veins.
That didn’t mean he didn’t love her. He did. She had his heart in a way that no other woman ever had, or would. But he loved himself more. And—in no particular order, he loved fucking, getting head, and busting a heavy load. Yeah, he was a selfish motherfucker, and a very horny bastard.
And?
Shit. She knew what it was before she’d married him. She’d played the sidepiece for almost two y
ears, was willing to share the dick, before she’d finally made her way to MVP—Most Valued Pussy.
So what the fuck was her problem now?
She knew he loved her crazy ass. Knew that them hoes in the streets didn’t mean shit. They were just a piece of wet ass and a nut.
Roselle sighed inwardly, glancing over at Brenda. She was pretty as fuck. He allowed his gaze to linger over her breasts—oh hell yeah, those big, bouncy tits with the big areolas and thick nipples. He felt his dick thicken as he imagined sliding his meat between the folds of her breasts. A nice titty-fuck was what his dick needed.
Brenda felt his gaze on her, and shot him a hot glare that said, “Why the fuck are you staring at me?” She rolled her eyes for emphasis and sped through another light.
Roselle shook his head. Evil ass.
Truth be told, he hated what his cheating ways did to his wife. And he hated even more having to apologize for shit he wasn’t necessarily sorry for. And he hated making promises he knew, she knew, he most likely wouldn’t keep. He’d try, like now, to not fuck another woman.
And, so far, for the last two months, he’d managed to keep his dick home. Well, shit, wait—head didn’t count, right? Nah, head definitely wasn’t cheating. And it was that mindset that told him it was okay for him to let some young booster chick suck his dick in the backseat of his truck in exchange for a pair of woman’s Gucci shades she’d managed to swipe out of Neiman Marcus for him.
The same oversized sunglasses his wife currently had wrapped around her face, his gift to her for her birthday. It was fair trade. He got superb head, and his wife got a banging pair of shades.
“Don’t you think you should slow it down?” he asked calmly as she made a sharp right, then sped down the street.
She sucked her teeth, cutting her eyes at him. “I got this,” she grumbled. “But if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have to run red lights ‘n’ shit. So don’t start.”
They were running late, once again, because of his ass. Red-skinned fucker. She felt like backhanding him. He’d been dragging his heels all goddamn morning, being his usual passive-aggressive self. And all she knew was, if they missed this flight, she was going to jail because she was going to slice open his face with her six-inch acrylics.
“All I’m saying, Bren, is slow down. Damn.” He shook his head. “I know I was dragging my ass this morning, but that doesn’t mean you gotta be reckless behind the wheel.”
“Don’t tell me how to drive,” she snapped. She felt like slamming on the brakes and watching his head go through the windshield. God, he made her so fucking sick, just looking at him or hearing his voice made her want to claw his face open. And if she thought she could get away with it without him beating her ass—not that he’d ever put his hands on her, but there was a first time for everything. Shit. She knew her man—pretty boy or not—was no punk, and she knew just how far to go with him; even though he allowed her to get away with more than she knew any other man would.
Roselle was a mixture of men—a little street, a little hood with a splash of sophistication and lots of education (yes, she’d snatched herself a man with a college degree!). And those were some of the things that had drawn her to him.
“Yo, I’m not telling you how to drive,” Roselle said, trying his damnedest to keep from snatching the steering wheel from her. “I’m telling you to slow the fuck down. Period.”
She blinked him back into view and said, “I said I got this.” She clenched her teeth, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “So don’t start your shit with me.”
Roselle gritted his teeth. This disrespectful bitch! Anger splintered through his mind. He was really getting tired of her calling him out his name. Her slick-ass mouth would be the reason he’d conveniently forget real men didn’t put their hands on women, and crack her motherfucking jaw open. Shit. She was lucky he’d never beat her ass, like the last motherfucker she was with. He didn’t agree with a man putting his hands on a woman, but he definitely understood why some motherfuckers knocked a bitch’s eye socket in, and punched all of her teeth out.
That mouth.
Sweat trickled down Roselle’s back. Brenda picked a ninety-eight-degree day to decide she wanted to have the goddamn windows down instead of pumping the AC.
