Chapter 1
Kardell
A Piece or Some Peace?
Â
I jumped up out of a good sleep to the sound of some fool banging on my door. I lived in a pretty decent neighborhood in the suburbs of Baltimore County, Maryland. My neighbors were quite uppity and this sound just wasn't tolerated. I scrambled to get myself together and focused my eyes on the clock on my nightstand. It read 7:15
A.M.
Now I was pissed. I liked to sleep in on Saturdays, especially when I had no man in my bed. I moaned and groaned as I slipped on my housecoat and slippers, making my way downstairs to the door. My house was immaculate and I glanced around to make sure that everything was in place. I glanced into my full-length mirror on my living room wall to make sure my hair wasn't all over my head before I opened the door.
The banging sound echoed throughout my quiet home causing me to hurry my pace.
“Okay, this is ridiculous. This better be Publishers Clearing House and Ed McMahon rose from the dead with a huge-ass check, because all this noise whoever this is is making is uncalled for,” I mumbled to myself as I unlatched the locks to my door.
I opened the door andâguess whatâno Ed McMahon. No check. Nothing. Just a fool. Just like I thought, Ronald was standing in my doorway with all the fineness he could muster up. About six feet tall with deep brown eyes, tight curly black hair, and he had a creamy chocolate complexion that was my weakness. I loved brothas! I mean real, sexy brothas who knew how to use what they had. And Ronald had everything going for him but a damn job. He stood in the doorway looking at me like I owed him something when, in actuality, he owed me. The last time I saw him, he had borrowed some money and that was right after he got a good nut off on me an hour before. That was about two weeks ago. Sorry-ass mother-ump-ump-ump.
“Hey, Kardell, baby.” He flashed his pearly whites.
He got no response.
The first time I met him was at the supermarket. He was standing outside the market doing only God knows what. He offered to help me with my bags. I looked him up and down.
Pretty hot and tempting,
I thought. I said yes and headed toward my car with him in tow. I got to the car, pressed the button on my key ring that popped the trunk, and started loading the bags that I had in my hand. He in turn did the same. But, as he did it he rubbed up against my butt with his crotch as he hovered over me. I instantly jumped and turned to see if it was an accident. I was pinned between him and the car. The look on my face said it all. I was appalled and turned on at the same time. How dare he assume I was gay, and easy, too?
“Oh . . . my bad.” He looked at me and smiled. “That's not you?”
“Look, brother,” I said as I eased from under him and closed my trunk. “It's not that kind of party.” I had to admit he was sexy, but I couldn't let on that easy. We were in a parking lot full of cars and people. I looked around to see if anybody had noticed us. I sighed in relief, because everybody was doing their own thing and not paying us any attention.
“Again, my bad,” he said as he licked his lips, stepping back and simultaneously looked me up and down. I had to admit I had that effect on people. I was hot and I knew it. Not arrogant, but confident. I garnered the stares of many men and women. I was a nice-looking brother with a toasted-almond complexion and I had shoulder-length dreads that I loved to death. They were one of my best features, I thought. I was about five feet seven and a little muscular. I wasn't a geek, but I was quite intelligent. I was 150 pounds easy and I wore that well. One would say I had it going on.
I wasn't shocked at his stares. It's was his boldness that sent me over. It's was like he just didn't care.
“I just couldn't help myself,” he said with a smile. He was cocky and confident.
“Really?” I said as I made my way around to the driver's side of my car. I pulled out ten dollars and handed it to him. He looked at me with confusion.
“What's that for?” he asked.
“It's for helping me with my bags.”
“Nah, shorty,” he said, waving his hand. I noticed his pants hung off his butt a little. That turned me on, too. “I'm not a panhandler.”
I laughed. He sure could've fooled me, because he was sure trying to handle me.
“You know what I want,” he said as he moved in closer. My door to my car was open. I backed up and I put my hand up to signal him to stop. He proceeded anyway. I was now touching his chestâa firm, well-built chest. My stomach rumbled and I shifted my eyes away from his. I was uncomfortable and horny. Things were about to get ugly.
“I'm going to need you to back up off of me,” I said with little force. He did as instructed.
“What's wrong?” he said with a smile. “You're not feeling me?”
Feeling you, touching you, groping you, slobbing you down. That's not all I want to do to you.
“Look . . .” I paused, looking around again. “You
are
good-looking and all, but how did you know I wasn't straight?” He laughed. I didn't.
“Look, baby boy. I scoped you out when you first went into the market. I knew without a doubt that you were about that life.”
“Umhmm,” I said as I now leaned back on my car and I put my hands in my pockets. “So you're psychic, too?”
“Nah, shorty, but I knew.” He looked me up and down and then he pulled up his pants a little.
“How?” I posed the question. I couldn't wait for his answer.
“Because of the way you walk.” He was smiling hard now. “You're not a sissy; you carry yours like a man should. Not like you on a runway and shit.”
“Oh, really,” I said, trying not to blush. He had me. “What if my walked fooled you?”
“Nah, man, my dick never lies to me.” He grabbed his crotch.
I laughed. He just smiled. I took a quick glance at his bulge. It was adequate from what I could tell. My mind was like,
Damnnnnnnnnnn!
But I held it together, trying not to let on to being into him. I was easy by natureâsomething that I hated about myself.
“Is this how you always pick guys up?”
“Usually, I don't. They usually come to me. But you, you had me going the moment I laid eyes on you.”
This guy looked like trouble. His lines were weak. I'd heard them before. So why was I falling for it?
“You really are sure of yourself,” I said and then smiled.
“This ain't no game, shorty. I gets mine.”
“Can you lay off the âshorty' talk?” I said with attitude. I really wasn't an around-the-way type of guy. I wasn't better than, just not 'round- the-way.
“You're feisty, too. I can work with that,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
“Work with what?”
“You!” he said boldly. “You look like the next chapter in the book of my life.”
“Well, let's skip to the end of the chapter because I have to go home.”
He laughed, showing his pearly whites again. My knees got weak and I knew I had to make a run for it. I turned to get in my car.
“So it's like that?” he said. “You're just going to pass up a good thing like me and walk away? I think you will regret not taking this chance with me.”
I chuckled at that one. “I think I'm going to have to go ahead and take that chance,” I said as I closed the door to my car and then stuck my head out of the window. “Got to go.”
“Damn, you straight cold,” he said with a smile.
“Yep, so put on a coat because I'm out.”
Just as I started the car, this fool jumps in front of my car. Then he started yelling like a maniac.
“Baby, don't leave me,” he yelled. “I love you, baby! Just . . . don't . . . leave me!” He banged on the hood of my car. “Please, baby, pleaseeeee!”
I was mortified. People started looking and staring. I couldn't believe that dude was acting like this only a couple minutes after meeting me. I switched my car into drive, intending to scare him into going about his business. It didn't happen. This fool decided to jump on my car hood. I was done. I stopped, turned my car off, and then signaled him to go to the passenger door. I didn't like being embarrassed, ever. He jumped off the car, straightened his clothes, and walked around the car. He opened the door and hoped in. He buckled up and then looked at me.
“We're going to your place right?” Ronald said as his smiling face gleamed at me. I just shook my head and pulled off toward my house.
I should have known then he was going to be a pain in my ass.
I was brought back to the present by Ronald kissing me on the lips.
“What do you want?” I asked tired, pissed, and leaning up against my front doorpost. And his juicy lips just made me even more pissed that he was such a loser. I was mad at me for accepting it, too.
“Kardell, baby, you know what I want,” he said, pushing past me and making his way into my house.
“No, tell me,” I said, closing the door, trailing behind him like it was his house and not mine. His confidence was ridiculous and hypnotizing. And his muscular shoulders reminded me of his strength in bed. He also had an ass to die for. All of these things were my weakness.
“I missed you, babe.” He was now in my kitchen and in my refrigerator, pulling out something to eat. He had nerve.
“I guess two weeks will do that to you,” I said sarcastically as I sat down at my kitchen table and watched him.
“Baby, you know I was out taking care of business.”
He was jobless. It was the only kind I attracted. Funny, I say. So what he was doing for the two weeks that he was gone, I didn't know. In the four weeks that I had known him, I found out he was jobless and he lived with a relative. He had no kids, no girl on the side, and no diseases.
Why is he still here?
I asked myself.
Four words: I must be desperate.
I sat at my kitchen table and watched Ronald fix breakfast for one: himself. He looked like Chef G. Garvin when he moved around the kitchen. I shook my head at all the wasted talent and sexiness. Why did I allow this behavior? I must have been crazy. Certifiably so.
He was excellent in bed and that was his only plus. Everything else he took: my money, my time, and now my patience. He finished his food, threw the plate in the dishwasher, and headed toward my bathroom. I stayed at the table, contemplating dating women. They had to be easier.
I heard the shower running, so I made my way toward my bedroom. There was a trail of clothes up the stairs and down the hallway that led to the bathroom. Like a neat freak, I picked them up and threw them in my hamper.
After about fifteen minutes, he sauntered out of the bathroom in the nude. I was lying in the bed, watching television, trying hard to ignore him. But I couldn't help it. I watched him go toward my linen closet and grab a towel. He toweled himself off, threw the towel in the corner, and climbed into bed with me. Okay, I know what you are saying. This Negro had balls. Well, yes, he did and big ones, literally, and that was why I put up with him. I pretended to be engrossed in a television show, fighting hard to not give in to his banging body, which was now pressed up against mine. He smelled good, too. I loved a clean-smelling man. It woke up every part of me that should have stayed asleep.
He started with my ear. Small circles with his tongue at first until my entire ear made its way into his mouth. His dick was pressed up against the back of my thigh and I felt it throbbing. Then it started. My dick began to rise. I was a goner; he took his hand and turned my body toward his. He kissed me softly, and then he pulled me in tightly. Fighting was futile and I knew it. His hands massaged my back and moved down to my butt. He squeezed hard and long. I was at his mercy. My legs had a mind of their own as I wrapped myself around him. He rolled over on his back and I straddled him. I reached over, fumbled through the nightstand, and pulled out a condom. He quickly eased the condom on and I eased down on his dick like a hot knife cutting through butter. He was well endowed and each time we had sex I had to get used to his size all over again. It was that good pain, too. I started slow, up and down.
“Mmmmmmmmm,” he moaned. “This is what I was looking forward to all day.” he slapped my butt and palmed it like a basketball. That sent me into overdrive and before I knew it I was rodeo riding and holding on for dear life.
Buck 'em. Ride 'em.
After about twenty minutes he came and I pulled off and lay next to him, sweaty and drained.
After a couple of minutes, I heard my house phone ringing. I rolled over, picked it up, and answered.
“Hello,” I answered, annoyed that whoever it was calling was ruining my sexual high.
“Is Ronald home?” I heard a man's voice.
“Is Ronald home?” I wondered the same thing out loud. “Who is this?” I said with an attitude. Ronald followed up behind me with the same question.
“Who is that?”
“Tell him it's Tony,” the stranger said as if Ronald was paying bills here.
“Tony?” I repeated, confused. “You have the wrong number,” I spoke before I knew it.