Authors: Kiki Swinson
Tags: #Fiction, #Fiction - General, #Literature & Fiction, #African American - Urban Life, #Genre fiction, #cookie429, #Kat, #Extratorrents
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations,
and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously.
Wifey 4 Life. Copyright © 2010 by Kiki Swinson. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or re-
produced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case
of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address
Melodrama Publishing, P.O. Box 522, Bellport, NY 11713.
www.melodramapublishing.com
Library of Congress Control Number:2009938152
ISBN-13: 978-1934157619
ISBN-10: 1934157619
First Edition: March 2010
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Editors: Melissa Forbes, Brian Sandy, Candace K. Cottrell
Interior and Cover Design: Candace K. Cottrell
Cover photo: Howard Huang
Model: Esther Baxter
Wifey
I’m Still Wifey
Life After Wifey
Still Wifey Material
The Candy Shop
A Sticky Situation
Sleeping with the Enemy Playing Dirty
Notorious
T
he sound of my BlackBerry ringing woke me out of a dead sleep. I started to get up to see who it was, but my mind wouldn’t allow
my body to move, so I lay there, hoping it would stop ringing on its own. A couple
of seconds later I felt Donovan rub me on my back while I had my face buried underneath
my pillow.
“Want me to answer this?”
Before I answered, the phone stopped ringing.
“It was your realtor, Kendra,” he told me after looking at the
caller ID.
“I’ll call her back later,” I said, my response barely audible.
“What did you say?”
I sighed and lifted my head from underneath the pillow. The
sunlight beaming through the window treatments nearly blinded me, so I squinted
and repeated what I’d said. Then I put my head back under the pillow.
“Sweetheart, this is her second time calling. You may want to
call her back now.”
I thought about what he said for a moment. “Give me ten more
minutes and then I’ll get up and call her back.”
He patted me once again on my back. “OK, I’m giving you ten minutes
to get up, because she could be calling you about the inspection.” I started to
make a rebuttal to his comment, but I decided against it, because I was too tired
to speak, and I didn’t have a bit of strength to lift my head again. I just lay
there and pretended I hadn’t heard him, even though I knew he meant well.
***
It was funny how Donovan and I were just opposites, yet we meshed
like two peas in a pod. Donovan Tate, a native of Anguilla, was more handsome than
anyone I’d ever been intimate with. What attracted me to him was his big, brown
eyes and perfect white teeth.
The day we met on the beach not too far from my house, he’d
approached me and introduced himself while I lounged in my chair reading a book
by one of my favorite authors. He walked barefoot in the sand with a cute little
poodle in tow. When I looked at him from head to toe, he didn’t strike me as the
type of man who’d own a poodle. So when he told me the dog belonged to his parents,
who lived a few houses up the beach from my place, it made perfect sense.
I honestly couldn’t believe him when he told me he was in his
late twenties. I swear I would’ve bet every dime I had that he was my age or a couple
of years older. His height and his build tipped him over the thirty-something scale.
He wasn’t as tall as Shaquille O’Neal, but he was damn near close. And although
I never asked him how much he weighed, I was sure he was every bit of 280 pounds.
The good thing about it was that he carried his weight well, and without a stitch
of flab on his entire body, he was solid as a rock.
Lucky for him, the king-sized bed I had in my bedroom was big
enough to hold him, because if I had anything smaller, he’d be sleeping on the floor.
We’d been dating for a month, and so far it’d been one incredible
journey.
I had my doubts in the beginning when he first pursued me,
but after I met his parents, I knew then that God had His hands in this one. They
were poised, successful, and they embraced me wholeheartedly.
All the other men I’d chosen in the past—every single one of
them—came with all sorts of drama. That was why I’d given up the hope that I’d ever
find true love.
But Donovan was different. He did everything in his power to
make me happy. Plus, he was an excellent cook.
Two weeks ago the sink in my kitchen got clogged up, and before
I could lift a finger to call a plumber, he got underneath that sink, disconnected
the pipes, removed the debris, and screwed the pipes back together. He handled his
business like a professional. Which saved me a few coins. I knew he was heaven-sent.
***
I lay in bed past the time I had promised to Donovan, so he sat
back on the bed and massaged me on my back. I knew he was about to remind me about
my commitment to call Kendra back. He was a stickler when it came to taking care
of important business, unlike me. I was a procrastinator, so we bumped heads
when it came to that. I lay there very still and hoped that he’d leave me alone.
I knew it would be a long shot, but I tried my hand anyway.
“Baby, it’s time to get up,” he said. “Remember, you got to call
Kendra back.”
Dreading to move even one inch, I stretched out my hands from
under the covers and let out a long yawn. I was exhausted, and I made sure he knew
it. “Baby, can you give me at least ten more minutes?” I whined, my head still buried
beneath the pillow.
“No, it’s time to get up!” He reached his hand under the blanket
and eased it up the back of my legs until he located my ass.
I knew what he was about to do. He loved to fondle me when I
gave him a hard time about getting out of bed. He definitely knew how to get my
attention.
I waited for the inevitable, and then it happened—the gentle
touch of Donovan’s hands massaging my butt and my inner thighs. I spread my legs
apart slowly and started getting moist instantly.
When he felt the wetness through my panties, he started playing
with my kitty cat. I swear, my insides wanted to burst. And since I couldn’t resist
him any longer, I slowly turned over on my back and spread my legs even farther
apart.
At that very moment he yanked my panties so hard, he ripped them
completely off me, leaving my bare coochie showing, and went in for the kill.
I moaned and groaned with every lick he laid upon me, arching
my back and purring like a fucking cat. “Yeah, baby, lick right there,” I said.
Believe me, the shit felt good as hell. I belted out a couple of screams of ecstasy.
Donovan concentrated on that exact spot of my clit and went crazy.
“Ahhhhh, baby, yeah. Yeah, please don’t stop.” I moaned and gripped the sides of
his ears. I wasn’t gonna let them go for nothing in the world.
I was almost at my peak when my BlackBerry started ringing again.
I tried not to listen to it because I knew it would distract me from getting an
orgasm. But it kept ringing and ringing. I felt Donovan’s tongue stop moving.
“What are you doing? You can’t stop now.”
“The call is probably important.”
“I don’t give a damn about that phone right now. I need you to
make me cum.”
Donovan wasn’t trying to hear it. He stood and grabbed my phone
from the dresser. “Here, take care of your business first. I can make you cum anytime.”
I was pissed with that motherfucker for starting some shit with
me that he wouldn’t finish. My pussy was so wet, you could soak up my juices with
a mop and use it to clean the entire kitchen floor. And to think it was all done
for nothing. Boy, what a fucking waste.
I finally answered the phone, but I wasn’t a happy camper at
all. “How can I help you?”
“Hi, Kira. This is Kendra. I was calling you to let you know
that the inspection on the house went very well, and now all we have to do is get
through escrow and then we can go to closing.”
“Sounds good,” I said nonchalantly. At this point, I really couldn’t
care less about the fucking inspection. I knew my house was going to pass, because
it was practically brand-new. All she needed to do was call me when those people
were ready to go to closing.
“Do you think you’ll be available to come back here in the next
couple of days?” she asked.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“OK, well, book a flight and have yourself here by Tuesday. Today
is Saturday, so that gives you three days.”
“All right. I’m on it,” I assured her, and then we hung up.
After I got off the phone with Kendra, I was no longer in the
mood to have Donovan get back on his knees, so I got out of bed and headed to the
shower. I figured what I really needed was some hot water beating down my back,
and that was what I got.
When I got out of the shower, I went back into my bedroom and
slipped on one of Donovan’s white tank tops and a pair of my own jean shorts. Down
here in Anguilla, they called these shorts “coochie-cutters.” I loved the way I
looked in them. And Donovan loved the way I looked in them even more.
After I slipped on a pair of my Gucci flip-flops, I took my ass
downstairs to see where Donovan was. He wasn’t in the kitchen like I expected him
to be, but I did find him relaxing on his favorite chair in the family room of my
home. He had the remote control in his hand, surfing the channels to see what was
on.
I gave him a half-smile, because, for one, I was still kind of
ticked off that he left me hanging in the bedroom. And, two, I knew that when I
walked in here and he smiled at me, I wouldn’t be mad at him much longer. He always
knew how to make me get over any mishaps he and I had, which was what drew me
to him in the first place. No matter how much he and I argued or fussed, he would
never allow us to go to bed angry. That was why I knew he was my soul mate.
“You hungry?”
I tried to play hard, but it didn’t work. “No, I’m fine.” I flopped
down on the sofa across from him.
He got up from his chair and took a seat beside me. “You know
I don’t like it when you aren’t happy.”
“I’m happy.”
“Stop lying to me. You know I know when you’re not telling me
the truth,” he said, and then he started tickling me.
I burst into laughter. “Stop playing, Donovan. You know I hate
when you be tickling me.” I screamed and chuckled at the same time.
“I’m not gonna stop until you tell me the truth.” He continued
tickling me.
The shit was unbearable. I couldn’t contain myself for all the
money in the world. I was getting weaker by the second, and I couldn’t do a thing
about it. “OK. OK. I’ma stop lying and tell you the truth.”
When he heard my surrender, he immediately stopped. “You promise?”
I smiled. “Yes, I promise.”
He released his hands from my side, and I exhaled. He kissed
me on my forehead and asked me what I wanted for breakfast.
“I’m not really hungry, baby, but you can fix me a cup of hot
tea.”
“All right. I gotcha covered.”
I watched him as he exited the room. I sat back
and thought to myself how lucky I was to have that man in my life. He was such a
sweetheart, and the fact that he showed me how much he loved me in such a short
time, especially with all my emotional baggage, made me value him even more. I swear,
I wouldn’t trade him in for nothing else in this entire world. I just wished that
he’d come into my life a couple of years earlier. Then I wouldn’t be such an emotional
wreck. But I knew I’d be all right. God promised me that He’d look after me, so
I knew that was exactly what He was going to do.
A
n hour or so after I drank my cup of tea, Donovan decided he
wanted to hop on his family’s boat and take me to Saint Martin to do some shopping,
since I was going back to the States to handle some business. Now when he mentioned
Saint Martin, I knew we would be stopping at the Versace and Gucci boutiques, two
of my favorite designers, and I made sure he knew that on our first date.
Before we left my house, he encouraged me to change into something
more appropriate since he planned to stop by his parents’ house on the way back.
He told me his mother wanted us over for lunch, which I told him was fine, even
though I knew this lunch date with her would turn into a Q and A session. Every
time I was in her company, she wanted to know a little bit more about me.
Everything I told her about me was a lie, of course, especially
the part about my ex-husband dying in a car accident, and that I’d inherited his
insurance policy valued at two million. I also told her that I owned an exclusive
hair, nail, and body spa geared toward the elite back in America, and netted a profit
of three hundred thousand yearly. The only real thing I told her was my name. I
tried not to get so caught up in my lies that I didn’t remember them later, so I
always tried to keep everything at a minimum.