Bi-Sensual Page 7

  Mona screamed, “Come for me, baby. Come for me.”

  Harder.

  “Oh, shit,” she squealed.

  Her eyes widened, like she had been caught off guard.

  My dick got harder.

  “Oh, God. I fucking hate you so much, Elliot!”

  Faster.

  “I know,” I growled out.

  The muscles in my back coiled underneath my skin. I started breathing through my mouth.

  “I’ll do it,” she panted. “I’ll meet him,” she cried out.

  Deeper.

  That made me go deeper.

  “I know,” I said.

  I came so hard, I was sure I blew a hole through the condom and her back.

  Elliot

  Mona fell asleep before I could kiss her and tell her how much I’d enjoyed her sex. I got up. Her breasts bounced and jiggled when the weight of my body left the bed. I left her sprawled out on the bed. One of her legs was straight; the other, bent at the knee, making it look as if she was making the numeral four with her legs. Her breathing was fast, then steady, then slow and even. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

  I could hear the rain coming down harder. I moved the shades back an inch or so to look out. The rain was coming down in sheets, blanketing the city. There was a blinking light on my phone. One that told me I had missed calls and/or text messages. I walked into the bathroom. Rid my semi-hardened dick of its sheath. I flushed it. Washed my hands and face. I didn’t feel like showering, so I flipped the lights off and then crawled back into bed with her.

  I pulled her close to me. Let her lay her head on my chest as I listened to the rain beat down on Atlanta. Before I knew it, I’d closed my eyes and dozed off. Woke up an hour later to my phone beeping. Mona was still sleeping. Her slight snoring told me that. I moved her head and got up from the bed.

  There was a message from Demi.

  I’ll meet her, was all it said.

  I texted him back, I know.

  I could imagine him sitting on the side of our bed. Naked. Running a hand over his head. The muscles in his back coiling like steel cables. I’d left him hours ago. Left him in our bed, dick drained and our come still drying on his thighs. I’d done to him what I’d done to Mona. I’d fucked him hard. Sexed him fast. Made love to him slow. Had seduced him the way I’d seduced Mona. Had bent both of them to my will. Used sex as my weapon.

  I’d left my scratches on his back. Bite marks on his neck. Bruises on his chocolate skin from where I’d held him down. Nothing turned me on more than when I made Demi bite the pillow or grip the covers on the bed. For a man as masculine as he was, and for one viewed as so dominate, breaking him down to a submissive state made me feel like a king. I wanted to pound my chest like King Kong. Throw my head back and roar.

  When he would tell me to wait just before I came because my dick was too hard for him to keep going, I would relish the power that gave me. When I would make him take every inch of me and he would pound the bed just before he gripped his dick to keep from coming too soon, I would give a devilish grin. Proud that it was me and only me to whom he gave that privilege. Or when he would actually kneel to suck my dick, assuming a position that he could never have me take, and one that he would never assume for another, I would feel like I was the only man in the world.

  Another text came through. Are you coming home?

  I scratched my head, typed with one hand. Later.

  Are you with her?

  I am.

  He didn’t respond. I put my phone back on the nightstand, then crawled back in bed with Mona. I had assumed she was asleep, and was surprised to find her eyes open, watching me.

  “Thought you were sleeping,” I said.

  “I was. The light from your phone is bright,” she said. Her voice was soft, low, and husky.

  “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

  She cleared her throat, then said, “I need to pee. Bladder hurts. Pussy feels full.”

  I chuckled. “Okay.”

  She eased up from the bed. She was bent at the waist, like it hurt to stand up fully since she had a full bladder.

  I asked, “You need some help?”

  “No. I’m okay.” She grunted. Bumped into something. “Goddamn it!” she yelled.

  I sat up. “You sure?”

  “Stubbed my toe,” she said as she popped the light on in the bathroom.

  She closed the door behind her. I could hear her paying her water bill even with the door closed. The shower came on. I was only half awake when she came from the bathroom. The faint smell of lavender and roses followed her. She crawled back into bed. Laid her head on my chest and threw one of her thick thighs around my waist.

  “You asleep?” she asked.

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  She had something on her mind, but she wouldn’t say what. I could tell by the way she kept moving.

  “Mona,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Stop moving.”

  “Trying to get comfortable.”

  “You need to switch sides?”

  “No.”

  “Then chill.”

  “Don’t tell me to chill. I hate when you tell me to chill.”

  I sighed just as thunder clapped across the sky. A violent flash of lightning followed behind it.

  “Who were you texting?” she finally asked.

  I knew it was coming. “Demi,” I answered.

  “Do you have to text him when we’re together?” she asked.

  “I said only a few words to him.”

  “Okay, but do you have to do that when we’re together? He gets you and your time way more than I do. I can’t have a few hours alone, with no interruption?”

  “You act as if this is a custody battle.”

  “Sometimes it feels like it, but whatever. I’m just asking.”

  I could hear the change in her voice. Annoyance laced every word in her last statement.

  “Okay. I’ll be mindful of that next time,” I said, just so we could keep the peace.

  We were silent. Her fingers traced the silky hairs on my chest and stomach. Then her hand dropped down lower. Played in the minimal silky strands surrounding my manhood. Thunder went roaring across the sky again. Felt as if it shook the building.

  “When do you want me to meet him?” she asked after a while.

  “Soon as possible.”

  “Why the hurry?”

  “No hurry. I just feel like the sooner we get it over with, the better for all parties involved,” I said.

  She grunted. Moved to lie on top of me. I had to move my arms from behind my head. Even in the dark, her silhouette was visible. Loved the way her ass looked lying on top of me. Couldn’t help but place one hand there and one on her back.

  “What’s he like?” she asked after getting comfortable.

  “Who?”

  “Him.”

  I chuckled at the way she refused to say Demi’s name.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he upbeat or moody?”

  “Depends on the day. Mostly moody.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Just who he is. Kind of emo.”

  “Does he like women?”

  “He’s bisexual.”

  “Doesn’t mean he likes women.”

  “He likes women.”

  “Does he know about me?”

  “He knows. Doesn’t like you that much . . .”

  “He doesn’t know me.”

  “You don’t like him. You don’t know him, either.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Hypocrite.”

  “Is he like a flaming queen or like Prince maybe? Or is he more like Lawrence from The Housewives or maybe EJ?”

  “Who?”

  “Magic Johnson’s son.”

  “No. Hell, no. Why are you assuming he’s effeminate or has any feminine qualities?”

  She shrugged, or tried to
as best as she could while lying on my chest. “I don’t know. You’re just so . . . alpha male, so dominate. Hard for me to see a man as dominate as you being with a man as dominate as you.”

  I chuckled, then laughed. Mona shot up like lightning had struck her. She reached over and turned the lamp on beside the bed. I frowned, eyes half closed, trying to give my eyes time to adjust to the light. I looked up to find her staring at me like she’d seen a ghost.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re laughing.”

  “Okay?”

  “I needed to see it to believe it.”

  My left brow rose, and through my smile, I asked, “What?”

  “You barely smile, El, so to hear you laugh is rare. To see it is even rarer.”

  “I do smile, Mona.”

  There was an easy, relaxed smile on her face when she said, “Barely.”

  I reached back over and turned the lamp off. Mona was still sitting up. The heat from her pussy was right on my dick. I could feel myself hardening. She needed to move. There was no protection between us.

  I tapped her hips. “You need to move,” I told her.

  She ground her hips a bit. I knew she could feel my nature rising.

  “Why?”

  “Because we can’t go there without a condom again. Your words. Remember?”

  I thought back to four months ago, when we let our hormones get the best of us. Right before she got ready to go on tour. Three hours before her flight back to New York. In her hotel room, against the door, like we were horny college students after a drunken frat party. I ripped her thong off from under her skirt. Slipped inside of her like I didn’t have a significant other at home. Broke all my own rules about using protection at all times.

  No, we couldn’t afford to go there again. I couldn’t have another woman pregnant by accident, only for her to run off and leave if things turned out badly.

  Mona ground her hips some more. I could feel her wetness soaking the space between us. She sat up a bit. Her breasts right in my face. I sucked one into my mouth. Couldn’t help myself. Mona’s sharp intake of breath told me I was doing it right. I let one of my hands snake around her waist, while the other glided down her ass. She was so wet, I easily slipped one finger inside of her.

  I sucked her breasts. She rode my fingers. Her come felt like warm honey. We had to stop. I pulled back from sucking her breasts. Flipped her onto her back. I locked her wrists above her head. Her legs were around my waist.

  “Stop it,” I said between clenched teeth.

  I could see the white of her eyes, even though the room was a bit dark. She didn’t say anything. Just lifted her hips.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I said.

  “What am I doing?” she asked.

  “You getting pregnant won’t change the fact—”

  “Who said anything about getting pregnant? Maybe I just want to feel you that way again.”

  “No. Now stop.”

  She moved her legs from around my waist and stared up at me. I got up from the bed and headed to the shower. My phone was beeping again, so I took it with me.

  “Don’t talk to him while you’re with me,” she spat.

  I closed the door to the bathroom behind me. I looked at my text messages.

  Why won’t you answer the phone? Demi texted.

  I laid the phone on the counter, then turned the shower on. Took me all of ten minutes to wash up. Once I was done, I went back into the bedroom and grabbed the last condom on the dresser. Put it on. I snatched Mona by her ankles and yanked her down to the foot of the bed. I gave her another round of what she so desperately wanted.

  Mona

  I didn’t know what to expect when I met the man of the hour. I hated to say it, but I was actually nervous about it. I didn’t know why, but I was. I’d even taken care in the way I dressed. Denim shorts that hugged my hips and backside, a short-sleeved button-down shirt that showcased my breasts, and six-inch wedge sandals that I would probably regret. First impressions were everything, right?

  Elliot had left me early Friday morning. We’d had a quick breakfast, and then he’d had to get home so he could go to work. A few kisses and words of affection and then he’d been out the door. My body was well satisfied and still hummed from the gratified state it had been left in. We texted throughout the day, but he didn’t stop by. I was okay with that, especially since he answered all my texts quickly. Even with that fulfillment, I still wondered just how I was supposed to act when I met the man who had the heart of the man I loved.

  I was half scared he would punch me in the face. For that reason, I packed police-grade Mace in my bag. I could have gone to one of my friend’s brothers and asked for a gun. That might have been drastic. But past trauma had led me to believe that men could and would hurt me simply because I was a woman and was seen as the weaker sex.

  That was why Elliot never made sudden moves toward me when we were having a disagreement. That was why, even though he knew I liked a little bit of rough play during sex, he took care in the way he handled me. He always observed caution in the way he grabbed my neck, giving me time to relax and to know he would never hurt me.

  However, I didn’t know Demitri. He could be one of those men who thought hitting a woman was okay. So for now, Mace would be in my bag, alongside my Taser. After all, I had been warned that he didn’t particularly care for me. Anything was bound to happen.

  I quieted my mind as I drove to Piedmont Park. It was ten in the morning on a Saturday. A food truck festival was set to start at eleven. I could have parked on the street but decided not to. I found a parking deck from which I could walk straight into the park. I found a spot, got out of my vehicle, and started walking. I emerged from the parking deck and found myself near the information center and the park’s pool.

  My phone rang just as I did so. It was Elliot.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Are you here?”

  “I am. I came in near a pool.”

  “Good. Walk to the right and come around until you see the first food truck.”

  “It started already?”

  “They’re just setting up, I believe.”

  The park was already alive. A very diverse crowd was milling about. Parents with strollers, cyclists getting their cardio, runners and joggers, along with a few groups who were doing some yoga were out and about. A stage was being set up for music, and the musicians were now testing the sound.

  I asked, “Where are you?”

  “Standing in the line to get the wristbands for the event. I’m near the front,” he said.

  I saw the line. It was already pretty long. Luckily, since people were already milling about, no one made a fuss about me walking toward the front. Elliot spotted me, stepped out of the line, and waved once. I smiled despite my nervousness.

  He was dressed in khaki cargo shorts, casual Levi’s sneakers, and a thick white T-shirt. He had a fresh lineup, so his hair and goatee were shaped to perfection. Muscles called attention to his physique. His dark brown skin made me want to reach out and touch him. He held his arms out as I walked up to him. For a second, I forgot there was another man around that would have a problem with our public display of affection.

  I hugged Elliot. Ran my hands up and down his back while we kissed. He cupped the back of my neck, then placed thick, warm lips against mine. He pulled back. Kissed my neck and then complimented my looks. I returned the compliment in kind. I exhaled and looked around, wondering if Demitri was one of the men standing in front of us or behind us.

  “He went to the bathroom,” Elliot said.

  “Huh?”

  “Demitri. He went to the bathroom.”

  I smiled a tight-lipped smile. “Oh.”

  That was all I had to say for the moment. I still wasn’t sure why I was even there. I could have turned around and walked away from the whole sordid thing. But for Elliot, I’d do just about anything. We moved as the line moved. Fairly quickly, it was our tur
n to have our bands put on. Elliot gave the woman his name. She tagged him and me, then looked down at her list again.

  “Says here you have three on your list, sir,” she said, her British accent thick.

  Elliot nodded, but before he could speak, I heard, “I’m here.”

  My spine stiffened. His voice was as deep as Barry White’s and as smooth as D. B. Woodside’s. I swallowed, then moved ahead a few steps. I didn’t turn around. I refused to. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how to respond to the moment. My heart rate was going so fast, I felt like I needed to sit down, lest I fall down first. I moved to the other side of the walkway. Ran a hand over the ponytail I had put my braids in, tilted my head to the side, and pretended the bird skittering across the grass was of interest.

  I was so good at pretending that when Elliot called my name, I pretended I didn’t hear him, either. Sometimes I could be so—

  “Samona,” Elliot called again, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  I took a deep breath and turned around. I blinked once. Blinked twice. Blinked a third time. The man standing next to Elliot wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I was shocked and surprised. He was a visible inch taller. Black Timberland boots, baggy—but not too baggy—denim jeans, and a sleeveless T-shirt that showcased his physique. The man had shoulders that were damn near boulders. Built like a solid brick wall. The veins snaking around his arms and neck were strong and thick.

  I blinked again when I took in his plush lips. He had an extended beard that lined his jaw and chin perfectly. He had dark brown skin with chocolate undertones. He was, in an odd sense, pretty but rugged. I intentionally avoided his eyes. His hair was faded on the sides, and his ’fro had natural tight coils that looked to have been hand twisted. Then I went back to his eyes. I almost recoiled a bit. There was a small scar in the shape of a star above his right eye.

  A man had never looked at me with such disdain and disinterest. The fact that he had gray eyes didn’t make it any better. The color and shape almost made his eyes appear reptilian. If death had an incognito look, the way he was looking would be it. It was almost as if he was studying me. Like he was trying to figure out if he had seen me somewhere before.