Kismet (Beyond the Bedroom Series)

KISMET

Book one of the

“
Beyond the Bedroom”

Series

By

Raynesha Pittman

Conglomerate Ink Publishing

PUBLISHED

BY

CONGLOMERATE INK.

PO BOX 512

Shelbyville, TN 37162

Editing

By

Brandie Randolph of Editing Couture

www.editingcouture.com

All rights reserved. Copyright © 2010 by Raynesha Pittman

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

This is a fictional book. Names used, Characters, places and incidents are products of my imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locations or person(s) both living and dead are entirely coincidental. The entire book, from the front cover to the back cover is 100% fictional and is a figment of my imagination.

ISBN 978-1460997949

www.conglomerateink.com

www.facebook.com/conglomerateink

www.twitter.com/rayneshapittman

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to those of you who can relate to any character(s) or situation(s) in it. It doesn
’
t rain forever nor do we always have sunny days. Key thing to remember about life is we all have a plan, destiny or fate and it was established before we could pronounce our own names.

What is Kismet? My interpretation of the definition is: Fate; a predetermined or unavoidable destiny. It is not identical to Karma, with Karma you get back what you dish out, fate is not that friendly. We will all face our fate sooner or later; I just pray it doesn
"
t mirror the main characters in this book.

ACKNOWLEGMENTS

This is not an award show but I would like to thank god for not turning his back on me even when I turned my back on him. That kind of love is one of a kind.

I also would like to give a special thanks to my husband Theodore J. Pittman, you are my rock and the love of my life. My beautiful children Quientin, Quiencey, Quienyce and Quiion. Thank you for allowing me to take time away from being a mother to write this book, I love you.

To my mother Estelle, thank you for not candy coating life to me. I appreciate you for always giving it to me straight and letting me learn everything the hard way. You have never talked down on decisions I’ve made even when the decisions weren’t thought out. I’ve learned from my mistakes, which you already knew I would. I love you mama.

To my four supportive families that put up with me while I was finding myself; The Wilson’s which is my mother’s side, Granny, Auntie Venus, my sister Lafarah and her two boys I love you all dearly and I mean this. The Washington’s: who are my father’s side, My brother Ray, Susan, Paulette, Doris and the rest of the gang. I love you all for always being there for me.

My in laws, both the Pittman’s and the George’s. I am blessed to be able to say I was loved and welcome by all of you from the beginning, Thank you.

To my Father Ray Washington Sr. and my God mother Carolyn Washington. May you both rest in peace. I thank you for giving me my spunk and helping me learn not to take wooden nickels, I love you and I’m a daddy’s girl for life.

Now to throw some names around: Rodney Smith, Crystal Brown and Krystal Mertens my three best friends. Thank you for backing me through all the crazy decisions I’ve made, without the three of you I have no clue of what I’d do.

Dawnita Wiley, Dominique Davis, Denisha McCoy, Roshon Lewis, Audrey Duhon, Monique Hedgeman, Brittney Davis, Tequilla Overton, Misty Ellis, Erica H, Annette Brown and Teneia Fair. You’re the best god sisters in the world.

Some of you may be my cousins or childhood friends but in my eyes we are sisters and that also goes for my god brothers Branden Turner, Everette Hedgeman, Corey Walker, C.H, Christopher Washington, Chauncey Washington, LaMarcus Ellis and Wyman Walker; My protectors, Thank you for always keeping me safe.

A special thank you to my sister, Latashia Sutton for giving Savannah a face. Beauty is your name and I’m glad you answer to it!

Warner Breveard; the father of two of my five children, thank you for continuing to be a part of my support group, It’s good to know your still in my corner.

Sherry and Chris Breveard my step kids, you know I love you as if you are mines.

Iesha McCaskill, my lesson on right from wrong! I thank you for it. The love you continue to give me is amazing and I pray it never fades away.

Rodney “Slim” Bowens -no title is needed. We rocking and have been for almost six years.

Sweet Jones and Mr. Two Points, you know I couldn’t forget the two of you either.

To my face book friends who supported the book while it was still in the making I want to thank you all especially Tammie Thomas, Lori Robb, Sara Johnston, Tonya Jenkins and Manuela Parker. You gave me the energy to keep writing; I had to give you a finished product.

To Sister Souljah; thank you for the “Coldest Winter Ever”. I give your book to ever young girl I know. The upcoming generation needed an eye opener.

Zane, your rawness as a writer encouraged me to be myself when I write. Thank you for sharing your talents with the world.

Last and far from least Michael Antonio, Thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself when you signed me to Payne Publishing Inc. I am going to make you proud!

“They say because we come from the Low Bottom’s we will never make it to the top, Time to prove them wrong”

-Author Raynesha Pittman

Chapter 1: Don’t Call Tyrone!

I should wake Tyrone’s sorry ass up. For the last two months, he’s been talking shit about what he would do to me if I gave him a chance. Three and a half minutes after that chance, he rolled over and went to sleep! I’m so tired of these extra-large Magnum wearing, five good strokes giving niggas. Always bragging about their dicks like they’re the cure for c ancer or the solution to world peace. I haven’t witnessed a dick do anything but get hard and nut.

Men seem to think that if they have made one woman scream their names or cum, they can do it to every woman they sleep with. The truth is that most of us fake it so we won’t hurt their egos. The male ego is complicated and, in some inexplicable way, it’s connected to their dicks, which I’ll never understand.

Don’t twist my words. I love dick and have screamed out many names in pleasure. What I’m saying is- different strokes for different folks. What worked for Jan might not work for Jane, so don’t be mad when I say it isn’t good. You can’t use the same strokes on me that you use with every other woman you’ve been with and think I can’t detect how you have mastered the position.

If you insist on stroking me with your routine stroke, you got the wrong woman. I’m 29 years old; I can give a damn about a man’s ego. I want to be satisfied and pre-rehearsed moves aren’t going to get it. If he isn’t capable of satisfying me with the natural flow of the mood we are in, he doesn’t deserve to spend another second inside me.

When I was younger, I would do all that fake moaning and back scratching. Hell, I was the best orgasm faker in the world until it hit me that he was truly enjoying it and I was better off masturbating. Those days are over. I have a 30 second rule now. If I haven’t gotten wetter, started shaking to where I can’t control it, or had the urge to pull him in deeper within the first 30 seconds, he has to get the fuck off of me. The only flaw I’ve found with this rule is that there are no warning signs if he’s a two-minute man. That’s how Tyrone got away with three and a half minutes.

Yes, I’m mad about it because I could have been under, or on top of, somebody else tonight. Everything in me told me not to fuck Tyrone, but my pussy has a mind of her own, so I let her have her way and went ahead and slept with the father Keisha’s baby. Listening to Keisha’s broke, food stamp selling ass brag about sex with her baby daddy was one of the reasons I wanted him to fuck me in the first place.

I wanted to see if he was really as good as she had said. ‘Tyrone’ this and ‘Tyrone’ that; she promoted his dick like Don King would promote a Tyson fight.

I believed her since Tyrone had the math of a man that could handle his business in bed. He was 6-feet, 1-inch, and 195 pounds of pure muscles, black as midnight, bowlegged- without the handicapped walk most bowlegged men have- and well-groomed for a man that never left the ‘hood.

Most don’t have time to hit a barber shop every two weeks, but Tyrone did. He kept the old, Steve Harvey perfect edge up with more waves in his hair than the ocean. He possessed deep dimples that complimented his face, leading to sexy, perfect, white smile, surrounded by LL cool J Doing it Well era lips.

Tyrone was always in a new, white, Pro Club tee shirt, rocking the newest pair of Jordans or classic high-top Chuck Taylors with fat laces. His way of dressing would be broke and immature to me on any other man, but on him, it was mouthwatering.

What I found to be most sexy about him was when he was on the basketball court in his wife-beater, sweating hard and panting heavily from smoking too much weed while trying to talk shit after losing.

How does that add up to being able to handle his business in bed? Do the math. Basketball has four quarters and he never used a substitute which equals stamina. He talked shit whenever he was losing or had lost, which meant he had a winning mind frame. How many men you know want to lose in the bed? My point exactly. The shoe size and height stories that most women judge men by meant nothing to me. I’ve slept with a lot of size 12 and 13-inch feet and learned that they don’t do shit but un-tuck the sheets at the foot of the bed. It must be embarrassing when your shoe size is twice the size of your condom filler.

Keisha had made Tyrone out to be a dark chocolate, boxer wearing superman, whose super power was his 10-inch long, two-inch wide dick. Looks like my pussy was kryptonite because I ended up with a no stamina having, Clark Kent because nothing about those three minutes was super.

Guess my math was wrong. I forgot to subtract the fact that I’m platinum compared to the miles Keisha has on her. I could slap that heifa' for lying to me like that. What Keisha failed to realize about me is that I hadn’t considered her a friend since high school, which lead to my final reason for giving Tyrone some. That slut slept with my first boyfriend, Kevin, and took his virginity while we were dating. She convinced him that I would never give it up, so he had sex with her at his father’s house while his dad was at work. Payback was coming; I just didn’t think it would take this long to get it. We were kids when it happened and I may be wrong in some people’s eyes, but I don’t give a damn. Each hoe has their day and for Keisha, today was that day.

Something about the thought of sex and revenge made me want Tyrone even more. I am not the only woman on this earth who has used sex to get revenge and I won’t be the last to use it, either. When our man cheats on us, what do we do? We go sleep with somebody, too. Even men use sex for revenge. What do they do when we don’t pay them enough attention, but our so-called friend does? They have sex with her and, when we find out they slept with her, the first reason they give is, “She was there for me when you wasn’t.” That’s a form of revenge for not putting him first. Let’s not pretend that sex and revenge hasn’t gone hand and hand.