Mama Dearest (5 page)

I’m still standing at the windows looking at the water when suddenly music pipes through the apartment. It is a seductive male voice I don’t recognize at first and then realize it’s neo-soul singer Anthony Hamilton. It has been a long time since I’ve been in a posh setting like this and I miss it terribly. I want to tell S. Marcus that I too once had it all, but who wants to explain how it all fell apart?

Just as I was feeling sorry for myself, the softest kiss brushes over
on the curve of my neck. A hot wave of lust ripples through me. It feels so good, I don’t move. Because it makes me realize just how much I’ve missed a man touching me like that.

My body hungers for him just as much as my entire being aches to return to the life of luxury. And right now I feel like I’ll do anything to satisfy both cravings.

He put his heavy hand low on my hip. And I swear I could feel lightning shoot from his palm and his fingertips through my body. It didn’t help that he was touching me way too close to a place that needed love more than anything else. I took in a deep, sharp breath—almost a gasp—as that lightning crackled through every inch of me and sparked a fire between my legs. It was a wonder that I could feel so wet and so on fire at the same time. All I wanted was for this gorgeous man to do whatever he says he does with his hands. I needed him to touch me there, then hammer into the heat until it exploded and cooled down, at the same time intoxicating him with an overwhelming need for Yancey in his life.

“Turn around,” he whispers. “I want to see you.”

I do as I’m told with the obedience of a child. It’s not my style. But my body wants him so badly, I guess I can do it one night of my life. I turn, and he stands before me wearing nothing but a milk-white bath towel cinched around his waist.

I gasp, admiring his perfect anatomy. His body looks better than any guy on the cover of a fitness magazine. The sight of this magnificent piece of manhood makes my body burn even hotter. I cross my arms to hide my nipples, poking two hard points through my dress. But I can’t take my eyes off this luscious vision of male perfection.

Being in the theater, I’ve seen my share of perfect bodies, from gay chorus boys to toned leading men. But this one is all mine. It is muscled, strong and hairless and can give Michelangelo’s
David
a run for his money.

Then I saw something that let me know he was no Goody
Two–shoes, that he could probably throw down like I needed him to. He had a circular Chinese tat around his waist that looks like a permanent belt. There was another tat with a red heart with the words
Mom
and
R.I.P.
I usually don’t like tats but on Marcus they look marvelous. Maybe he was a straight-laced, pinstripe-suited financial wizard by day, but this man definitely had a freakier side that I was about to meet by night.

Marcus moves closer to me, his lips almost touching mine. His breath smells of mint mouthwash.

The sensation of a gorgeous man’s lips this close to mine makes that blaze between my legs burn even hotter with need. I press my thighs together to massage the throbbing wetness that has created a creamy puddle in my panties; the friction sends a shiver through me that feels so good, I’m dizzy.

To steady myself, I rest my hand on his bicep, which is as hard as stone. If his dick is even half as hard as his arm, I am in for a sweet treat tonight. For a moment I think this is some type of dream and I must will myself never to wake up.

He moves even closer. He’s pressing his lips softly to mine, as though he knows he doesn’t have to ask permission. This isn’t my first time at the fair. I feel his broad chest brushing against my naked shoulders, the head of his stiff dick pressing through the fabric of my short dress.

A soft moan escapes my lips. All I want is to feel that ramming up into me for as long as I can take it.

He steps back.

“You know I want you,” he said.

“You said you always get what you want, right?” I asked playfully, wishing he would get on with the program. Men were always talking about the urgency of a hard dick. Well, if they ever felt the overwhelming urgency of a hot, hungry pussy, they’d understand that we need it just as much as they do.

“Yes,” he said. “Because I know what I want, and—”

“You know how to ask,” I finished for him, laughing. I look deep into his eyes. He seems like he’d be an attentive, unselfish lover. That’s just what I need, what I’ve been needing for a long time. “You got protection?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” he said, holding up a gold wrapper he seemed to pull from thin air.

“Oh, I see we have a regular Boy Scout here,” I smiled, relieved.

“Always prepared.”

“The zipper’s in the back,” I said, turning around and lifting my hair up slightly over my shoulders.

S. Marcus unzipped my dress, and followed the path of the zipper with his tongue from the small of my back to the center of my ass. He might as well have been dragging a giant matchstick down my spine, because that man’s tongue set off an inferno inside me. Every inch that he licked made my pussy ignite with a pulsating sensation that was like little flames licking at my moist flesh from the inside out.

Alicia Keyes’s voice is playing in the background, but I need her ass to shut up so this man can hear how he is making my pussy sing.

He reaches up, pulls the dress down past my breasts, waist and finally my knees. I’m standing in nothing but sheer pink panties, staring at the sky, my palms pressed against the glass. The beautiful view and the even better sensations make me feel like I’m on top of the world. And I’m going to use this situation to stay here.

“Very pretty,” he says, removing my panties with one swoop, obviously no stranger to the game. I love that this body looks so hard, but his touch and his kisses are so soft.

He continues kissing my cheeks, sucking them, sending bolts of electricity through my entire body. I close my eyes, seeing flashes of yellow and white—that lightning from his touch. On his knees, he spins me around, my ass slapping against the glass. I look down at him as he kisses my inner thighs, sinks his long, middle finger deep into
his mouth, then aims it between my legs. I watch, panting with excitement.

“Aaahhh,” I cry out as his fingertip slips across my clit. He slowly slides his finger inside me. And I toss my head back with the shock of intense pleasure. Because now those lightning bolts are shooting up through my insides as he moves his finger in and out, letting his thumb dance on my clit.

I am so hot, so aroused, that my whole body begins to tremor. I have never come this fast. Ever.

His eyes sparkle as I open mine long enough to look into his face. “Yeah, baby, come for me like that.”

His thumb is rubbing so fast, round and round, back and forth, over my slippery berry, and his finger, stroking in and out—

“Ooh,” he says, “you need it bad, and I got it for you.”

A tingly sensation explodes between my legs, sending shivers through every inch of me. I’m crying out, gasping, shocked at the speed and intensity of this pleasure in this beautiful place with this gorgeous man.

Heaven
. That word flashes in my head. Because I’m getting a little taste of heaven right at this moment. And I need him to keep looking at me like that, and keep making me feel like this, for a long time.

“I’m here to make you feel good,” he whispers seductively. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Ooh, I loved that he could switch from proper to slightly roughneck in the span of a whisper. That made me pulsate around his finger even harder as my clit danced under his expert touch.

When my moans let him know I’ve reached the limit, he stands. The towel falls.

And I gasp.

Because he has one of the most beautiful dicks I’ve ever seen. It’s jutting out from a soft nest of black hair, curving slightly up. Can this man get more perfect?

“All that for me?” I ask, looking at him with hunger in my eyes.

“Is it enough, baby girl?”

“It looks like more than enough,” I say, wondering why all men need dick approval and how long it had been since a man called me baby girl. My body is so ready for him, I know this is one night I will never forget.

Lust burns in his eyes as he asks, “So what are you going to do with it?”

I don’t say a word. Instead I grab it in my hand like a cob of corn I’m about to shuck. He moans as I feel it throb in my fist.

“You ready for it?” he asks with a teasing tone.

“I want it, now,” I almost order. I love the power I feel right now, with him looking at me like I’m the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world.

But I don’t like the way worry tightens his face when he catches a glimpse of my scar.

“What’s that?” Marcus asks as he gently touches my shoulder blade. I usually covered it up with makeup, but tonight I hadn’t. I just hope that my eyes didn’t give me away.

“It’s a birthmark,” I said confidently, in a way that said I didn’t want to talk about it or let it interfere with the pleasure at hand.

Marcus studied it for a few seconds. He sounded skeptical when he said, “That’s an unusual-looking birthmark.”

I looked up at him with my most seductive look, to quiet the questions in his head. “Everything about me is different. Now let’s get back to business, sir.”

He spun me back around, gently pushing me against the glass, pressing my breasts and the side of my face into it. The corner of my mouth can barely rise as I smile, thrilled with anticipation. But the glass against my cheek—and a sudden pang of fear—remind me just how fragile my situation is. I feel so high with the world at my feet, but if I push too hard, I could literally plunge into tragedy.

Here I am dreaming that casual sex is going to open the door for me to stay in this man’s luxurious life, yet as I look out at Biscayne Bay, for all I know, I might just be his catch of the day.

Behind me, the sound of him tearing open the condom wrapper underscores that thought. Was he just going to consume me and toss me out just like he’d flush that condom when we’re done? Me and it, gone forever from here?

I feel so conflicted. My body is screaming for him. My mind is crying out for his lifestyle. Am I dreaming?

He grabs my ass, runs his fingertips over the slippery swollen flesh between my legs, and—

“Ooooh,” I moan, closing my eyes. I know no better feeling in the world than that first stroke of a big, hard dick sliding up into my hungry body. I squeeze around him.

“Yeah, girl,” he groans. “I feel you.”

He’s so gentle; his stroke is careful and caring. He pushes deep, a little deeper, and then so deep it feels like he’s tickling my stomach from the inside out.

Our bodies are now connected. But are our minds? I need to make sure he wants those five dates with me and much more.

He pauses, as if he, too, is stopping to savor just how good it feels. He takes a long, deep breath as I feel his dick pulsating and getting bigger.

That makes me gasp and press my palms to the glass. If it feels this good being still, I’m about to lose my mind when he—

Thrusts. With his hands gripping my waist, he pulls his hips back, then thrusts again. In, out. In, out. Faster, harder, making magic friction with this perfect fit.

If I thought his hands were sending lightning bolts through my body, his dick is doing the same, with a thousand times more intensity. It’s like I can feel little waves of electricity dance up through every cell in my body. Goose bumps ripple across my skin. I cry out with the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt.

For a second, I think about all the times I’ve gotten off with my vibrator. That does the job, but this is the real thing. A real dick, pounding relentlessly with the fierce force of a man, taking me to a place I could never describe because nobody has invented the words to explain how good this feels.

And another explosion is sparking between my legs. My whole body trembles; my pussy pulsates around his huge, rock-hard dick. I pull my cheek off the window for fear that his hammering might shatter the glass—and this fantasy experience. At the same time, I grip the glass so hard that my fingernails make scratching noises.

“I feel you, baby,” he groans with delight. “Come for me again. Come for
me
!”

“Oh I am,” I moan.

“Yeah, tell me how much you love it,” S. Marcus whispers.

I arch my back, which lets him thrust even deeper. He responds with faster, harder strokes.

“Oh, yeah,” I cry. “Yeah …”

“Come on, girl. Make it come for me!” he demands. I think this man doesn’t know who he is messing with. I still have the flexibility of a sixteen-year-old gymnast and the sexual skills of a porn star.

I back my ass into him hard, grinding in a circular motion. I look back. He’s staring down at my gyrating hips and ass with absolute ecstasy in his eyes. So I go fast, then slow, over and over, until a glazed look in his eyes lets me know I’ve hypnotized him into submission to give me everything I want.

“Damn, baby girl, you’ll make me come too quick like that,” he groans, pounding even deeper.

And that sends me into another orgasmic explosion all over that long love stick of his.

His voice is raw and deep with passion as he shouts, “Oh baby girl, I’m comin’ with you.”

I feel his dick pulsate inside me as his body shudders behind me.
At the same time, I shiver with pleasure and glimpse back at his face—lovestruck, luststruck, sprung—whatever you want to call it.

I’m calling it
This man is hooked on some Yancey. And he’ll want more. And more. For as long as I want
.

Realizing that my work is done, my legs go weak, and I slide down the length of the window to the floor.