One Taste (2 page)

“What’s there to say? Devon’s gone,” Matt said bitterly. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you miss him,” she said with a whimper.

Matt didn’t answer. Regina leaned against the counter and stared at the kitchen floor.

Matt finished his meal in silence. Regina immediately turned
around and began stacking dishes in the dishwasher. Their marriage was failing—had failed years ago. Were they headed for divorce court? Regina wanted to cry. Her husband’s love for her was so sincere and they’d endured all the bumps in the road that life had thrown their way. But most important, he was faithful. Had always been. How many women could make that claim?

She loved her husband, but she no longer desired him sexually. She hated the sexual part of their relationship. And she despised the fact that he’d replaced their son so easily.

Matt cleared his throat. “I just remembered. I have to get an oil change before I pick up my crew. With all the miles I’ve been putting on the van, I don’t want to take any chances and mess up my engine.” He attempted to speak in a neutral tone, pretending there wasn’t tension in the room.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood, reached in his pocket, and peeled off three fifties. “Buy yourself something a new purse or something.” Giving his wife a sad smile, he laid the money on the kitchen table.

It was his way of saying he was sorry about his seeming lack of regard for their son’s memory. Regina nodded sadly and turned back to the dishwasher. Matt patted her back apologetically and threw down another fifty on his way out the door.

Regina went upstairs and put the money Matt had given her inside her Coach Patchwork Denim wallet. She’d add five hundred more and buy the Valentino braided tote that she’d been lusting for. Even the prospect of spending money on a prized possession that she wouldn’t have to hide did nothing to elevate her mood.

Grappling with a barrage of negative thoughts, Regina sat on her bed, clutched a pillow to her bosom, and rocked. But the rocking motion did not soothe her. She felt agitated. So agitated she snatched the pillow away from her chest, folded it, and stuck it between her legs.

Squeezing the pillow with her thighs, she closed her eyes and imagined being plundered by a vulgar faceless man who was hung like a horse. He forced himself inside her, smacking her face when she pleaded for him to be gentle—to have mercy. It was a wickedly delicious fantasy that made her juices overflow and soak through the pillowcase.

During her fantasy, she used crude language, making sexual demands she’d never made with her husband. “Fuck me with that big dick. Split my pussy wide open,” she shouted as her vaginal muscles contracted rapidly. “Goddamn!” she screamed as she exploded. Her face was twisted in a grimace, her heart pounding loudly and pumping so hard, it frightened her. Gasping for breath, Regina rubbed her chest in a circular motion. Finally, the spasms subsided and Regina was catapulted back to the reality of her own bedroom, lying in her marital bed with a pillow stuffed between her legs.

She let out a long sigh. Her life was so sad. Pitiable. Her husband was sexually disabled and refused to seek help. She was so deprived she’d resorted to fucking a damn pillow. Ashamed and feeling hopeless, she flung the pillow to the floor and quickly grabbed another, this time placing it on her face to muffle her sobs. She was certain that she loved her husband. After twenty years of marriage, he was like an extension of her, like an arm or leg, and she couldn’t imagine life without him.

But she was dying inside. And it was Matt’s fault. He didn’t
care that his limp dick had never given her an orgasm. He was perfectly content to continue their macabre sex dance. She’d talked about it and talked about it until she was blue in the face, but Matt was in denial. He said he was going through a phase—that he was anxious about his new business venture. Whatever! The fact remained that she was an unfulfilled woman who was locked in a sexless marriage.

Sleeping with another man for sexual satisfaction was out of the question. How could she ever look at herself in the mirror if she broke her marriage vows? And despite everything, she really loved Matt.

Regina exhaled. She’d just have to exercise more patience. In the meantime, she’d try to figure out a way to coerce Matt into getting professional help. He really needed to see a doctor. A sex therapist. An acupuncturist. Hell, she’d send him to a hypnotist. Perhaps the power of suggestion could help him keep his dick hard.

M
atthew Wheeler inspected the first four offices that Theo had cleaned. The trash bins were emptied with fresh liners tied around the rim, desk tops gleamed, and not a speck of debris dotted the carpets. Except for the telltale scent of alcohol that permeated the air, Theo had done a superb job. “Theo,” Matt yelled over the noise of the vacuum cleaner down the hall.

Theo shut off the vacuum cleaner and stepped out into the hallway. “Whassup, boss?”

After working in a factory for damn near twenty years, being called “boss” was music to his ears. His heart instantly softened toward Theo. “Man, I can smell liquor in every office you cleaned.”

“I ain’t…”

Matt held up a hand. “Theo, you’re supposed to be in recovery, man. The state pays me for the work you do. I could lose my contracts if somebody finds out you’re drinking on the job. If you want to drink after work, that’s your business.” Matt narrowed his eyes. “If I smell liquor on you again”—he inhaled—“I’d hate to do it…but I’m going to have to let you go.”

“My bad. I’m gonna get it together. I needed a little taste to take the edge off.”

“Take the edge off after I drop you off. All right, man?”

“Sure thing, boss. Thank you, Mr. Wheeler.”

Matt smiled inside, but kept up a stern demeanor. “Now, go back over all the rooms you cleaned and spray some of that pine-scented deodorizer.”

“I’m on it.” Theo rushed to his cleaning cart, grabbed the spray, and began fumigating the four offices that held the lingering scent of cheap whiskey.

Matt walked past one of his other workers, Doug Faison, and gave the man a nod of approval. Mr. Faison, as everyone called him, was in his mid-fifties. He’d suffered two cocaine-related heart attacks. Not wanting to be responsible for the man’s third heart attack, Matt gave him the easy task of lobby detail. All he had to do was empty and line a few trash bins, straighten out the magazines in the rack, dust and polish the mahogany desk, and wipe down the glass-topped end tables. No heavy labor for Mr. Faison.

The floor man, Langston Belgrave, was a big strapping man—built like a heavyweight fighter. Strong as an ox, he did the work of three men. It was said that the man had Indian blood. Matt didn’t doubt it. A good-looking man with high cheekbones, a ruddy reddish-brown complexion, and bone-straight black hair that hung past his shoulders, Langston had the look of an authentic American Indian. Everyone called him “Cochise” and the name suited him perfectly.

Wearing earphones while bobbing his head in time to music only he could hear, Cochise lifted his chin in greeting when Matt approached. He moved rhythmically as he pushed the buffer across the shiny conference room floor. Cochise put in a hard day’s work that more than made up for the slow-moving Mr. Faison’s sluggish and uninspired cleaning.

Onika Brandt, the only female member of the crew, used slow motions as she cleaned the metal door frame of the sliding doors at the main entrance. With her back to Matt, she stretched a long sinewy arm as she wiped the metal ledge at the top of the doors. There was indifference in her movement as if her mind was on something more interesting than the cleaning task at hand.

Tall and wiry and without any curves, there was nothing glamorous about Onika. Her face was average. Her chin-length hair was worn in a simple wrap. More often than not, she pulled her hair back into a plain ponytail. But despite her uninteresting physical characteristics, Onika had sex appeal. And a lot of attitude. She was tough and sassy with a swagger in her walk that hinted at more than just a trace of wildness. Yes, Onika was tough, but she was soft and sugary where it counted.

Matt crept behind her, cozying up to her as he wrapped his arms around her tiny waistline and then inched his hands up to her breasts. Onika squealed in surprise as he cupped her nugget-sized breasts.

Spinning around, she said, “You scared the shit outta me.” She swiftly pulled off the rubber gloves and wrapped her arms around Matt’s neck. “You better stop sneaking up on me like that,” she warned with a mischievous smile and then quickly brushed her lips against his.

Matt tried to prolong the kiss, but Onika pulled away. She wagged a finger at him. “I’m serious. Don’t sneak up on me like that. You might give me a heart attack or a stroke or something.”

“You’re too young for that, baby.” He gazed at her longingly. “Humph, if I keep messing around with you, I might end up stroking out.”

Onika blushed. “Aw, you’re not that old, Mr. Wheeler.”

His eyes dimmed. “After all this time, you’re still calling me Mr. Wheeler.”

“You’re not old, Matt,” she corrected awkwardly. “You’re just right.”

“Prove it,” he challenged.

“Is it break-time, yet?”

“It is for you. Put your cart away and meet me in the chairman’s office in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, Onika knocked. “It’s open,” Matt said softly as he swiveled in the dark-brown leather executive chair. The darkened room was softly illuminated by the glow from the brass desk lamp.

She walked around the desk and climbed on Matt’s lap, straddling him. He raised her uniform and was delighted to find she wasn’t wearing panties. He lifted her off his lap and placed her upon the enormous mahogany desk. She sat on the edge of the desk, facing him.

“Spread your legs, baby. Let Daddy get you in the mood.”

Onika pulled her knees apart. She leaned back, her palms pressed against the smooth desktop. Her parted legs dangled over the polished mahogany wood. Still seated, Matt scooted forward and bent his head. He kissed one thin thigh and then the other, working his way up to her mound. He nipped at her pubic hairs, pulling them softly with his teeth. Matt knew Onika loved it when he pulled her pussy hairs. Her moans of appreciation excited him.

Trying to have sex with his wife was a monumental task. His dick didn’t want to cooperate. Regina blamed him for his erection problems and wanted him to seek help. Matt gave a snort. All he had to do was sniff Onika’s pussy and his dick stirred to
life. One taste of her delicious nectar gave him a bulging erection.

Matt released her pubic hairs and pressed the tip of his tongue against her clit. He kept his tongue still, encouraging Onika to gyrate against it. When her juices began to trickle down his chin, he thrust his tongue between her folds, sucking and slurping until her moans escalated to a pitch that was entirely too loud. “Be quiet, baby,” he cautioned.

“It’s so good. I can’t help it,” Onika whined.

“You gotta be quiet,” Matt whispered. “The fellas might come running up here thinking somebody’s hurting you.”

Onika giggled and pulled Matt’s head back to her hot spot. But he stiffened his shoulders, resisting the urge to suck her sweet moisture.

Onika raised a brow. “Why’d you stop? I was just getting started.”

Matt softly smacked her thigh and tugged at her arm. “Get up.” He lifted her off the massive desk. “We’re gonna switch places; I want you to sit on Daddy’s face.”

He loved referring to himself as “Daddy.” Onika was only twenty years old and her youth made Matt feel good. Offering oral sex was something he’d never done with his wife. Eating pussy had never seemed appealing. But Onika kept his dick hard and he was happy to suck her clit. The girl’s juices were like a sex drug. She was driving him crazy. Had his heart thumping with love.

Matt stretched his body across the desk. Onika climbed over his broad chest, lifted her dress, squatted over his face, and then lowered herself.

He pleasured her with his lips and his tongue. Her arms flailed; her fingers clenching and unclenching as she clawed at
the air in an attempt to grab hold of something—anything. Finding nothing to grasp, she bent forward. Tilting her ass upward, she grabbed the edge of the desk and humped Matt’s face.

Onika rubbed her pussy against his lips, his nose, and his forehead. Then she rotated her hips. Fast. Without restraint. Like she was an electric mixer and Matt’s face was cake batter.

Her body tensed. She lifted up, but Matt pulled her back onto his face. “Smother me, baby,” he whispered into her bushy mound.

“Yo, that’s enough pussy eating. I’m ready for some dick.”

“Just a little longer,” he begged. Obliging him, Onika resumed squatting on his face, this time completely covering his nasal passage with her vagina.

“I can’t breathe,” Matt gasped. He thrashed as he struggled for air. Onika scooted up until her pussy brushed against his eyelids and her ass covered his nose. He tried to throw the slender woman off, but Onika maintained the position. “Baby, I can’t breathe.” His chest heaved as he tried to catch a breath of air.

Finally, she eased off his face. She looked at his groin and gave a self-satisfied smile.

“It’s hard, baby. Daddy’s ready for you,” Matt said, gasping.

Onika slid off the desk and got down on the thick carpeted office floor. Lying spread eagle, she waited for Matt.

Instead of mounting her, Matt collapsed beside Onika. “You gotta get on top, baby. You wore your old man out.”

“Stop saying that, Mr. Wheeler,” she admonished with a giggle and then climbed on top of him. She aimed his stiffness into the center of her wet vagina. “Ain’t nothing old about you,” she whispered as she lowered herself onto his slippery but short pole. As soon as he penetrated, he ejaculated. He shuddered violently and emitted loud orgasmic moans, forgetting his request that he and Onika keep their voices low.

“Damn!” he murmured in disgust when he finally caught his breath. “I hate it when I cum quick. I told you I’m too old for you. You need a younger man. I can’t do anything for you,” he complained.

Comforting him, Onika put her arms around Matt and kissed his lips. “It’s gonna get better, Mr. Wheeler. You lasted a lot longer this time.”

“How much longer? A couple of seconds?” Matt sounded near tears. “You deserve better. Go on and get yourself a young man; somebody that can hang for hours.”

“I don’t want nobody else.”

“Well, I’m not gonna mess with you anymore, Onika. I’m tired of embarrassing myself.”

A knock on the door startled the pair. “Who is it?” Matt said gruffly.

“It’s Theo. You want me to clean in there, Mr. Wheeler?”

“No, I got this one. Finish up the second floor.”

“I’m finished. I was looking for Onika. She’s supposed to wipe off all the telephones and clean the inside and outside of the cabinets on the second floor.”

“She’s on break,” Matt bellowed. “Can’t you cover for her?”

“No problem, boss,” Theo said and hurried away from the chairman’s office.

Lying on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, Matt gave Onika a long, impassioned kiss. Breaking the kiss, he searched her face. “Are you sure you want me?”

“You know I do. Why do you keep asking me that? Don’t I show you how I feel?”

“You sure do, baby,” Matt said. “With my problem and all…well, I can’t help wondering if I’m pleasing you as much as you’re pleasing me.”

“Mr. Wh…” She paused when Matt gave her a look. “I mean, Matt. I ain’t never had nobody like you before. I’m not even worried about our little sex problem. We’ll work it out.”

“What about the fact that I’m a married man? Doesn’t that bother you?”

Onika shook her head. “No, I can deal with it.”

A relieved grin covered Matt’s face. “Baby, you’re too good to be true. Seriously, you’re everything I ever wanted in a woman. I promise you, nothing is going to interfere with our relationship. Not my marriage—my business. Nothing. You’re number one.”

Onika beamed. “Aw, you’re so sweet.”

“I’m serious, baby. Every second of my spare time I have is gonna be spent with you.” He cradled her chin. “You got me whipped. You know that, don’t you?”

Blushing, Onika nodded.

“All right, let’s get downstairs and act like we’re working before Theo comes up here again.”

Matt pulled Onika up. He kissed her again. “Oh yeah, look under the desk.”

She furrowed her brow and bent to look under the desk. She picked up the T-Mobile bag and let out a delightful shriek when she uncovered the new cell phone.

“Thank you, Matt. You’re so sweet.” Onika covered Matt’s hand with kisses.

“I’m tired of getting a busy signal every time I call you at the Recovery House. The phone is already charged and I put my cell phone number on lock; all you have to do is push a button to stay in touch.”

“Matt,” she said softly. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I was out there messing with that stuff for so long; I never had much
of nothing and I damn sure never had a cell phone that wasn’t a throwaway or one I didn’t steal off a sucka. I never had a legitimate hookup.” She smiled at her gleaming new phone. “Thanks, Mr. Wheeler.”

Being called Mr. Wheeler made Matt bristle, but he held his tongue and gave Onika a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Poor Onika had started getting high when she was just sixteen and Matt hated that the young woman had experienced such hardship and seen so much ugliness in her short life. He intended to give her far more than just a cell phone. Onika was proving to be everything he desired in a woman. She deserved major props for being so patient with his erection and premature ejaculation problems.

He often kidded about being an old man, but in reality he felt he was too young to start taking Viagra. More than likely, his problem was psychosomatic. Having sex with the same woman for over twenty years had given him some serious dick problems.

However, with Onika in his life, Matt believed it would be just a matter of time before he was back on top of his game, stroking that thing and laying pipe for hours. Without a doubt, Onika was the antidote to his sex problems. And if he didn’t watch himself, he was going to be completely strung out. Oh hell…who was he fooling? Onika had him whipped and he loved it.