Dirty Heat (17 page)

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Smells like trouble to me.”

I smile coyly. “I'm not looking for trouble.”

She twists her lips. “Mm-hmm. Trouble might be looking for
you.”

I grin, wiggling my eyebrows. “Which is exactly why I didn't want you to go. What you don't know, or see, can't implicate you.”

She grabs her napkin from off her lap and tosses it at me. “Bitch, don't.”

I laugh. “Mecca, girl, you know I'm only teasing. I love Roosevelt,” I say honestly. “I'd never do anything purposefully to hurt him, or us.”
Well, not if I can get away with it, anyway. What he doesn't know can't hurt him.
“Besides, I know how much you adore him. Even if trouble did find me there, your ass would probably tell on me.”

She flicks a dismissive wave at me. “Girl, not on your life. Yes, I do adore Roosevelt. But you're my sister. I'd curse you the hell out
for being a trifling-ass ho, before I'd ever snitch on you, boo. That's what sisters do.”

I smile. “Awww, I love you, too.”

“True.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. “I know you do. But, seriously, Lita,” she says, calling me by my nickname as she lifts her glass to her lips. “I think you snatched up one of the good ones, girl.”

“I know I did,” I say thoughtfully, raising my glass as well. “He's my everything.”

Our glasses clink.

“Then whatever you do,” Mecca says, eyeing me. “Don't fuck him over.”

“S
o, you got everything, baby?” Roosevelt says, grabbing my suitcase and carry-on as I step out of our bathroom; wearing a short denim skirt and a white off-the-shoulder blouse that crisscrosses in the front with a pair of orange pumps.

“Yes,” I say, standing in front of the full-length mirror, then screwing on the backs to my diamond studs.

I can feel Roosevelt's eyes on me as I fasten my earrings in.

I pretend not to see him as he stands there, watching, as I reach for my orange lipstick, then glide a coat over my lips, followed by a coat of lip gloss to make 'em pop, and look real juicy.

Smiling, I watch Roosevelt, eyeing me. His gaze slides up my toned calves, up the back of my smooth, shiny thighs, then lock on my ass. I stare back at him in the mirror as he takes in the way my skirt hugs my hips.

I slowly turn to face him. Hand on hip, head tilted, grinning. “You see something you like?”

He licks his lips.

“Aww, fuck that.” He drops my bags. “You looking too fucking sexy, with ya fine-ass, baby. I need to get in that pussy one more time before we leave.”

He stalks over toward me; his dick already stretching down his left thigh.

“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head, laughter in my throat. “You're not about to have me smearing my lipstick, or missing my flight.”

Lies, bitch, lies! You know damn well giving him some pussy, won't take long.
I glance at the time. I have three hours before departure.
You can give him another taste, and still have more than enough time to check-in, go through security, and grab a double chocolate Frappuccino from Starbucks.

He reaches for me, and I quickly sidestep, smiling. “Nope. No pussy. Now go take my bags downstairs.”

He sucks his teeth, unbuckling his belt. “Yeah, you'se a fucking lie.” He unzips his zipper. “My dick is hard.” He pulls his jeans down over his hips, then his boxers. “We fucking, baby. So you might as well grab the dresser and bend over, or get up on them knees 'cause there ain't no way you leaving up out of here to fly across the ocean to cackle with your girls on some tropical island for three days,
and
think I'm not getting up in that ass.”

His long, thick dick is curved upward, and so rigid that it barely moves as he stalks toward me with a single-minded determination. To fuck.

I laugh, dancing around the room to keep a distance between us. “I'm serious, baby. No. I'm already showered.”

“So. I'm not tryna hear that. Shower again. Fuck it. I'll lick you clean.”

I swallow. “Ooh, see now you're playing dirty,” I say, shaking my head. Roosevelt knows how much I love watching him tongue my pussy clean after he's shot a hot load inside it.

He hasn't tongued his cream out of me in a long while. And now this six-two, chocolate motherfucker is standing here in his size thirteen boots, talking about licking my pussy clean. Oh, this motherfucker is up to something. And I'll bet these six hundred-dollar pumps that it's something no goddamn good!

I tilt my head. Narrow my eyes. Throw a hand up on my hip. “Who you going to Atlanta with?”

He frowns. “What?”

“You heard me? Who the fuck are you going to Atlanta with?”

“Yo, are you fucking kidding me right now? I'm tryna get some pussy, and you asking me some shit like that. You know who I'm going with. The same muhfuckas I go with every year. Who the fuck you going on this retreat with?”

I buck my eyes. “Oh, don't turn this on me, nigga. You haven't licked my pussy out in months; now all of a sudden you wanna clean your nut out. Sounds to me like you got some bitch on hold and your guilt is getting to you.”

He scowls. “Yo, get off that dumb shit. There's no one on hold, but you. Now are you giving me some pussy or what?”

I suck my teeth. “I'm telling you now, Roosevelt. Go out there and fuck some other bitch if you want, and I'm gonna go upside your goddamn head.”

He laughs. “Yeah, keep talking shit. How 'bout to go upside this dick. The only person I'm giving this to is
you
.” He fists his cock, stroking it. “See this hard dick…?”

I glance down at his moving hand. The crown of his dick is trickling with wet, sticky nectar.

“It's all you, baby. Now take them motherfucking clothes off.”

Just that quick I forget that I'm trying to be pissed and fight to keep from licking my lips. I keep staring him down. Roosevelt knows I won't deny him pussy. And him standing here naked isn't helping none, neither is the Acqua di Parma cologne he is wearing.

Still, in his heated attempt at seducing me, I don't budge. “I gave you some pussy earlier.”

“And?
He frowns. “Your point? My dick is hard now. And I want some more. What, you saving it for some other motherfucker?”

I roll my eyes. Shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Nigga, please. Take me to the airport, please.”

“Yeah, aiight. You not leaving up outta here until we've finished fucking. So stop playing. You wasting time.”

My pussy clenches as he prowls closer. I take a step back, then another.

“We're not going anywhere until you take care of this dick.” He flicks his wrist up, glances at his watch. “The clock's ticking. Hurry up. You're gonna miss your flight.”

See. This is the Roosevelt I fell in love with—the pussy-hungry Roosevelt with the rock-hard dick who's always ready to fuck on the spot.

But, right now, as tempting as the offer is, I will not be sidetracked. Well, I don't want to be. Oh, no. No, no, no. The only thing on my mind is getting to the airport, then getting on flight 1491 headed to my weekend rendezvous.

But Roosevelt doesn't care. His hard dick, and getting release, is all he is concerned with. So to keep him happy and speed this along, I acquiesce. Tell him I'll give him some head, a quick suck to soothe his balls.

The thought of Roosevelt's hard dick hitting the back of my throat makes my mouth water, and my cunt juice. It's been a long time since I've actually sucked a nut out of him. Believe it or not, he doesn't particularly care for having his dick sucked, but he lets me because he knows it's what I love doing.

Sucking him.

Licking him.

Gulping him down.

I swallow in anticipation.

Roosevelt's eyes darken with desire, as he fists his dick again. “Fuck that. You can suck this dick. But that's not what I want. I want pussy.”

He closes the space between us. And before I can step away and
resist him, he is up on me, his hands everywhere. His fingers cleverly sliding up my skirt, easing over the lace of my panties.

I'm wet.

I'm always wet.

Roosevelt knows this.

He knows it doesn't take much for my pussy to moisten.

But, today, I'm not sure if my cunt is wet because I'm sneaking off to an island by myself, with the possibility of scandalous fucking going on while I'm there. Or if it's because seeing Roosevelt standing here, balls hanging low, dickhead glistening with precum, his hands roaming my body that has my pussy ready to explode.

“You always playing games,” he says hoarsely, his voice thick with lust. “Pussy all wet for daddy.”

“I'm not playing games,” I say, feeling my cunt coiling in heat. I smirk. “Maybe I want you to beg for it.”

“Oh, that's what you want? Me to beg for what's already mine?”

He reaches under my panties with his thumbs. Pulls at my lips. Goads a moan from me. “Yes. Beg for it.”

He pinches my clit over the silk fabric, and my body shakes, almost sending me into an orgasmic fit.

“Fuck that. I ain't begging for shit,” he rasps. “Not today. Turn around and let me get up in this shit from the back.”

“No,” I say low and soft, almost pleading as I reach for his heavy dick. He doesn't stop me. “Let me taste this.” I drop to my knees, looking up at him. “I want this big, juicy dick in my throat.” I stick my tongue out. Flick it over his dickhead. Heat swells in his eyes as my tongue swipes over his slit, gathering the strand of precum from its tip.

A part of me wants to speed-suck him so that he'll spill his seeds and slump over real quick. Then there's the dick-sucking whore in me who wants to savor his dick slow and sweet. But since time is
of the essence, I settle on sucking him into my mouth, swift and furiously. I cup his balls and give his dick a good washing.

He grunts in pleasure, placing his hands up on his hips. I suck him deep, pulling back every so often to run my gloss-painted lips up and down the side of his shaft, streaking it with lipstick. I lick up and down it, then suck it back into my mouth, suctioning out more precum.

“You want me to fuck that pretty mouth, huh, baby?”

I grunt in answer.

His dick slides in and out, stretching my lips open, its head hitting the back of my throat, plugging my airway. Spit splashes out of my mouth.

“Nice wet mouth. Yeah, shit.”

Roosevelt rocks his hips in a sensuous rhythm.
“Aaah, shiiiit!”
he groans, rolling his hips sharply, filling my mouth and throat with dick.

I'm trembling with arousal, my lust-drenched cunt, soaking my panties. My mind reels back and forth from fantasies of being fucked by some hunky island dick to the big, thick dick already in my mouth.

God, I love this man. I swear I do. But my pussy is still so goddamn angry with him. He always does this shit to me. Gets me all worked up, stirs my pussy up real good, teases me with rippling strokes, takes me right to the edge, then leaves me goddamn hanging.

He does this to me. Forces me to sneak off and let other men do dirty things to my pussy. I know I wouldn't creep if he dicked me longer, gave me longer strokes, if he had more control of his nut.

I blame him for this.

My cheating.

Having me love this big, beautiful dick, but hating it at the same time.

Goddamn him!

Goddamn me!

“Aaah, shit. Goddamn, this mouth feels good. But I'm tryna fuck. Let me get in that pussy.”

I grunt. Grab his balls. And keep sucking. My only mission is to get him to nut, to coat my throat and tongue with his milk, then get me the hell to the airport. Pronto.

But, of course, this motherfucking man has other plans. Ones that include hiking up my skirt, yanking my panties to the side, messing up my hair, and gutting my pussy from the front, the back, and any other way he damn well pleases.

He pulls me up from off my knees, and spins me around, manhandles me the way he used to, when we used to fuck morning, noon, and night.

Roosevelt's dominance is a delicious treat, but I still can't help wondering what's gotten into him. Why now?

Why all the sudden aggression?

And hungry need?

If I didn't know any better, I'd think he thought I had intentions of letting someone else gut this pussy. But I've never given him any reason to think such, so I quickly shake that ridiculous notion from my head. I know I treat my man right. And makes sure he's handled right. Every night. I'm not like some of them silly bitches out there. I take care of my man. Pussy and a hot meal every night when he steps through the door are two things my man's never denied.

I don't give a damn how pissed I am. He gets fed and fucked. Then, when the urge hits, when the need becomes too overwhelming, I go out and do me.

“Bend that motherfucking sexy ass over, baby,” Roosevelt says, smacking my ass, making it shake. “Let me plunge this dick into that fat-ass pussy.”

Before I can plant the palm of my hands down on the dresser good to brace myself, my skirt is already up over my hips, and Roosevelt is yanking my panties to the side, pressing the tip of his dick up against the mouth of my pussy.

He pulls open my cheeks, lunges forward and sinks his dick in in one deep thrust. I cry out. Cuss him under my breath for taking my pussy, for being so big. For making me feel so goddamn guilty for wanting more.

I start moaning like a wild animal. “Fuck me, goddammit! Yes, yes, yes. Big-dick bastard! Oooh, give me that big dick, baby. Ooh, ooh, ooh…”

Roosevelt slams into me, his dick stretching and grazing and knocking the bottom of my pussy.

My knees buckle. My arms stretch out and grip the edges of the dresser, slamming my ass back onto him. “Harder, baby, harder…Lord, God, yes…yes, yes…!”