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Her.
They’d cheat on their pretty bitches to feel the inside of her pussy. Even if it was a late-night creep—out in the woods, in some abandoned building, behind bleachers, in the backseat of some old, beat-up car. Even if they only wanted to smash and dash, they had still wanted a piece of her. She made them feel good. Made them want to do things, nasty things, to her that they wouldn’t do to those uptight uppity bitches they’d parade around during daytime hours.
Eventually, she’d learned to love it when they’d talked dirty to her.
“Eat this nut, bitch . . .”
“Suck this dick, ho . . .”
“Take this fat dick, smut . . .”
She’d learned to love being called dirty names. At least she wasn’t being called ugly.
Freaky bitch.
Nasty ho.
Slut-ass.
However, no matter what they’d called her growing up, there was one thing that she’d taken pride in: the fact that she had good pussy and sucked dick and ate cum like a pro.
Fast-forward, fifteen abortions and dozens of STDs later, LaQuandra snagged the only man who’d made her heart fill with something other than lust. A nineteen-year-old boy from Hempstead, New York, who had a thick, curved dick and the ability to stroke her G-spot over and over and make her squirt, something no other boy—or man—had been able to do.
She was eight years his senior, but he handled her and her body like a grown man.
LaQuandra knew then that she would have to do whatever it took to reel him in before the rest of the thirsty Brick City (Newark, NJ) bitches got their hooks into him.
Isaiah Lewis.
So she spoiled him with the latest footwear and designer digs and fucked him real good every chance she got until she’d finally gotten him to move in with her. And every night, she’d fuck him to sleep, then wake him up with the sweet sounds of her sucking his dick wetly and sloppily. Then she feigned being pregnant. Then faking a miscarriage several months later, after she’d gotten him down to City Hall, where they’d said, “I do.”
Deep down, LaQuandra knew she hadn’t gotten Isaiah to marry her because he had fallen madly in love with her. No. He’d fallen in love with the pussy and all of the trappings that came along with sexing down a dick-whipped bitch. And now LaQuandra felt her own guilt creeping up inside of her. Their marriage hadn’t been built on love. It’d been built on lies. Deceit. And, although, she’d allowed Isaiah a glimpse at a few bones of her past, she’d managed to keep the skeletons in her closet buried beneath the f
loorboards.
Twenty-Eight
Dr. Dangerfield glanced up at the time in the right-hand corner of her laptop, and shook her head—not surprised that Krista was a no-show for her individual session today. That woman was a walking ball of self-denial and delusions to think her marriage was any less troubled than Brenda’s or LaQuandra’s. But Dr. Dangerfield wasn’t in the habit of forcing anyone to see what he or she refused to see. And she definitely wasn’t in the business of chasing anyone down. Either you wanted help. Or you didn’t.
Period.
So if Krista wanted to stay in denial, then she’d leave her right there, stuck in it. Hell, it wasn’t her marriage on the line. She wasn’t the one too blind to see that she wasn’t giving her husband all that she could sexually. If she couldn’t see that she was missing out on the very best parts of her husband’s sexual self, then shame on her.
So fuck Krista Evans—and her no-show ass.
Dr. Dangerfield had no problem putting her time to better use, healthier use; more exciting use. She hurriedly typed in the last line of her treatment note, saved her file. And then shut her laptop just as a knock sounded at the door. She looked up to see the object of her desire standing at the door.
Sin.
“You ready for me?” he asked, allowing the lust he felt for her to pour out into the room.
Dr. Dangerfield smiled, standing to greet him. “I’m always ready . . . for sin.”
He laughed, walking in and then shutting the door behind him.
“Yeah, baby. That’s what I like to hear.” And then he was pulling her into his arms, so she landed against the muscled wall of his chest. “So fucking beautiful, so sexy,” he said hoarsely. And then he surged forward, taking her mouth with his, hungrily and greedily. Their mouths melted hot, their tongues dancing wetly around the others.
She groaned into his mouth as her hands roamed over his hard body. Suddenly desperate to have nothing between them, they tore at each other’s clothing until their clothes went flying—his shirt this way, her dress that way, her bra smacking against the door, his pants hitting the wall—until his delicious dick was between them, sandwiched tightly against her belly.
