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“Have you set a date?” Paris asks.
“No. Not exactly, but it’ll be sometime in the fall of two-thousand-and-twelve. That’ll give you—” I point to Persia—“enough time to fix what you broke. And you”—I point at Paris—“enough time to lose all that baby fat. I will not have a chunky bridesmaid in my wedding.”
She laughs. “Oh, whatever, hooker.”
“Have you and Desmond set a date yet?” Persia asks Paris.
“No. Not yet. We’re not going to rush into getting married. We’re still getting to know one another. He wants us to live together once the baby is born. But I told him, no. I told him the next ma
n I live with—”
“Is going to be my husband,” I finish for her.
She laughs. “Exactly. Sounds like someone else got that speech, too.”
“Girl, please. How you think I got this engagement ring? I fuck Em good and suck him better, but I’ll be damned if he’s gonna get anymore than that until after we’re married.”
I lift my glass. “To new beginnings.”
“And forgiveness,” Paris adds, eyeing Persia.
“To new beginnings and forgiveness,” the three of us say, clinking our glasses.
“Persia,” Paris says, setting her drink back down on the table. She narrows her eyes. “You really hurt me. But the three of us have a home together, and we’re partners in a business, so I’m going to have to get over what you did to me. Will I forget? Hell no. Will I ever trust you around my man? Hell fucking no! And even though Des isn’t interested in being with you, I’m still going to watch you like a fucking hawk around him. If I ever catch you trying to flirt with him, or if I even think you’re somewhere playing in your hot-ass pussy thinking about him, I’m going beat your ass, then cut you out of my life for good. Are we clear?”
“I promise you. That’s something neither of you will ever have to worry about. I’m never going to let anything else come between us.”
I gulp my drink. “Good. Now when the hell are you moving back home?”
“Not soon enough,” Paris says, shaking her head. “Mother has been driving me crazy. I can’t wait to get the hell up out of there. Love her dearly, but my welcome has worn thin.”
The three of us share a laugh. Something we haven’t done in a long time. I smile, feeling like there’s hope for the three of us after all. I eye Persia. That’s my sister, and I love her dearly. But, I’m with Paris. I’m going to be watching her ass, too.
Persia looks at me and smiles.
I smile back. If she even sneezes wrong, I’m gonna beat her ass for the old and for the new.
Paris
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Tears roll unchecked down my cheeks. I’m bloated and miserable. This whole pregnancy thing is a lot more excruciating than I expected. Everything about Desmond makes me sick right now. The way he looks, the way he smells. I want to slap him. I’m already a week past my due date and I’ve only dilated three centimeters. I want this stubborn baby out of me, now. All it does is kick and squirm and make my life a living hell.
I’m so glad to be back here in my own bed. Living with my parents was…different, to say the least. But, here is where my heart is—for now at least. Persia and I are still on shaky ground, but we’re talking and we’re working things through. And she finally admitted to being jealous of me. Why I have no idea, but she said she’s always envied me. One day when I feel like hearing it, I’ll ask her to clarify. Right now, it’s not that important to me. That’s her issue, not mine. She realized I don’t trust her as far as I can toss her, but she’s still my sister.
Desmond just left here. I had to put him out. He was getting on my nerves, for no reason. I have to say, having him and Persia in the same room the first few times was definitely an uncomfortable feeling for all three of us. But we got through it. Persia apologized for her scandalous behavior. Surprisingly, Desmond accepted her apology. But, for some strange reason, there was something in his eyes that gave me the feeling that he’s thought about her sexually. That he’s fantasized about whatever little nasty deeds she used to perform on him. There’s no telling with Persia. To this day, I don’t know exactly what they did in bed, and I don’t care to know. Even though I trust him when he says he loves me. Something deep in my gut tells me, if I offer him the opportunity to fuck the both of us, he would. Crazy thing is I’ve thought about it, watching the two of them together. I’ve masturbated to the notion of catching the two of them in the act.
There’s a part of me that misses fucking men with my sisters. If I’m really honest with myself, there have been times when I’ve lain in bed with Desmond, fantasizing about Persia and Porsha and Emerson—all five of us in one bed, fucking the night away.
The three of us would have Emerson’s and Desmond’s hands and feet tied to the bedposts, taking turns riding down on their cocks, smothering their faces with our sweet, wet pussies while alternately sucking their dicks.
The baby kicks again, jolting me from my lascivious thoughts. “Ugh!”
“Here, sweetie,” Porsha says, propping two pillows in back of me. “Let’s see if this helps.”
Persia is at the foot of my bed, rubbing my feet. Porsha takes a cold rag and places it up against my forehead. They’ve been tending to my every need for the last two weeks since my doctor placed me on bedrest. If I don’t have this baby by the end of the week, the doctor says they’re going to induce my labor. And that’s fine by me. Daddy and Desmond know to be close by. They’re the only ones I want in the delivery room with me. Mother wanted to be in there, but I told her absolutely not. I wanted the two special men in my life there. Surprisingly, she didn’t make a big deal about it. She acted like she understood. And that’s all I care about. I want this shit over with. I feel like a fat cow.
I steady my breathing. The baby kicks. And I groan. “Do the two of you…” Oh, God, this child is pressing down on my fucking bladder. I take short quick breaths, blowing in and out, rubbing my lower part of my stomach.“…have any regrets doing what we’ve done with men?”
