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I lean in and meet Marcel’s gaze again.
Whatever niggling of jealousy I’d felt earlier is now gone. I feel in control. I am in control.
“Can you feel my cock fucking into her sweet ass, baby?”
Marcel grunts. “Fuck yeah. Aaah, shit…”
She moans loudly and leans farther into Marcel as I push forward and gently rock my hips into her ass, sawing her hole with heat from the ribbed dildo and the tingling sensations caused by the warming effects of the condom and lube.
Marcel curls his fingers underneath Anonymous’ ass and lifts her slightly. We both take turns thrusting and retreating, fucking her holes.
Squishy, squish-squish…
Her wetness splashes out of her.
She cries out in Spanish. “Dios mío! Ooh, I never thought this would feel sooooo good. Ooh, ooh, ooooooh…yes!”
Our bodies slam together. Our rhythm in sync, Marcel and I are in our own zone. I silently know, he silently knows, we are both ready to explode.
Sensation starts to tumble inside of me, roiling up from my clit, bubbling up inside my cunt. My head lolls back. My eyes roll upward. The room starts to spin.
Then the entire bed shakes as I pound into her ass, striking my clit with each delivered stroke, watching the eye of her hole stretch and pucker around my cock.
Anonymous cries out.
Marcel growls.
And my own cry mixes with theirs.
Slowly, the three of us lay, sweetly heated, panting and wet and quivering, still shaking from the multiple aftershocks of pleasure.
Deliciously fucked…
TWENTY-THREE
Marcel
“Man, get the fuck outta here!” I snap, smacking the palm of my hand down on the long conference table. I’ve been in a meeting with J-Smooth and his punk-ass manager for the last thirty minutes listening to these two morons try to convince me why I shouldn’t release this muhfucka from his contract with MK Records. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m not the one who fucked you over, man. You did. I’m not the one ruining ya career. You are.”
I stare at him. He
’s five-eleven, slender, mocha brown, with sleepy dark eyes and a neatly trimmed goatee perfectly framed around full lips. And real talk. He could definitely get this dick in his neck if he got down like that. I know a lot of muhfuckas in the industry who do, but J-Smooth’s name isn’t one of them on the list.
“You know I’m talented, MarSell, man,” he says, running a hand over the waves of his freshly cut hair. “And you know I can get in the studio and drop a hot album. Don’t let some BS get in the way of us making this money, man.”
Muhfucka, you can drop down on those knees and wet up this dick; that’s it. I take a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re a talented artist. No one can deny that. But I’m not the one gettin’ in the way with us gettin’ this paper. You are. At the end of the day, talent doesn’t mean shit if no one is checkin’ for you. And right now. You’re going down faster than a plane. Your fans aren’t feeling you. Money or not, you’re becoming reckless and too risky. And you and your antics are becoming a liability.”
“C’mon, man. If you’d just ride it out with me, this’ll all blow over. I know I can win my fans’ trust and respect back. I’ve already made a public apology.”
I give him a blank stare. “And you think some half-assed public apology means shit when you keep doing the same bullshit?” Then to add to his already fucked up image, this morning someone leaked some photos of this dumb muhfucka with a bong pressed to his fucking lips smoking weed. The muhfucka looked lit the fuck up. When I saw that shit this morning, all I could do was shake my damn head. Then when I called him on it during the first half of this meeting, this muhfucka said he took a few hits because he’s stressed. I knew then I’d made the right decision dropping his ass.
I shake my head. “Nah. MK Records isn’t that pressed for drama. I’m not checkin’ for gangster R&B artists. You seem better suited for Thug Records or some other label that supports slashin’ tires ‘n’ crackin’ bottles upside muhfuckas’ heads. But you can’t be here.”
J-Smooth gets up from his seat and walks over to the huge picture window that overlooks the city that never sleeps. He stares out as his manager tries to persuade me to reconsider. He tries to convince me that his current situation is simply a minor misunderstanding between a passionate couple who loves hard, and fights harder.
“MarSell, J’s been loyal to you. And…”
“And MK Records has been more than loyal to him. But given these recent events, and with him now being dropped from his endorsement deals, it’s best we part ways.”
