Between the Sheets (9781476775807) (22 page)

She yells out something in Spanish, then bucks her hips.

“Fuck her good, baby,” Marcel says gruffly, watching as I position myself, guiding my purple cock between her ass cheeks.

Anonymous gasps.

Marcel cups her face in his hands and soothes her with tenderness. “Ssh, relax. Lean into it, baby…look at me. Give in to it,
mami.
”

She inhales deeply.

I palm her ass, pushing every inch into her tight space. Determined to fuck her guts in, then out.

Marcel groans, feeling her pussy clamp around his dick like a tight fist as I fuck into her ass until we are both bathed in fire. My breasts sweep across her smooth back.

I lean in and meet Marcel's gaze again.

Whatever niggling of jealousy I'd felt earlier is now gone. I feel in control. I
am
in control.

“Can you feel my cock fucking into her sweet ass, baby?”

Marcel grunts. “Fuck yeah. Aaah, shit…”

She moans loudly and leans farther into Marcel as I push forward and gently rock my hips into her ass, sawing her hole with heat from the ribbed dildo and the tingling sensations caused by the warming effects of the condom and lube.

Marcel curls his fingers underneath Anonymous' ass and lifts her slightly. We both take turns thrusting and retreating, fucking her holes.

Squishy, squish-squish…

Her wetness splashes out of her.

She cries out in Spanish. “
Dios mío!
Ooh, I never thought this would feel sooooo good. Ooh, ooh, ooooooh…yes!”

Our bodies slam together. Our rhythm in sync, Marcel and I are in our own zone. I silently know, he silently knows, we are both ready to explode.

Sensation starts to tumble inside of me, roiling up from my clit, bubbling up inside my cunt. My head lolls back. My eyes roll upward. The room starts to spin.

Then the entire bed shakes as I pound into her ass, striking my clit with each delivered stroke, watching the eye of her hole stretch and pucker around my cock.

Anonymous cries out.

Marcel growls.

And my own cry mixes with theirs.

Slowly, the three of us lay, sweetly heated, panting and wet and quivering, still shaking from the multiple aftershocks of pleasure.

Deliciously fucked…

Marcel

“Man, get the fuck outta here!” I snap, smacking the palm of my hand down on the long conference table. I've been in a meeting with J-Smooth and his punk-ass manager for the last thirty minutes listening to these two morons try to convince me why I shouldn't release this muhfucka from his contract with MK Records. “Don't get it twisted. I'm not the one who fucked you over, man. You did. I'm not the one ruining ya career. You are.”

I stare at him. He's five-eleven, slender, mocha brown, with sleepy dark eyes and a neatly trimmed goatee perfectly framed around full lips. And real talk. He could definitely get this dick in his neck if he got down like that. I know a lot of muhfuckas in the industry who do, but J-Smooth's name isn't one of them on the list.

“You know I'm talented, Mar
Sell
, man,” he says, running a hand over the waves of his freshly cut hair. “And you
know
I can get in the studio and drop a hot album. Don't let some BS get in the way of us making this money, man.”

Muhfucka, you can drop down on those knees and wet up this dick; that's it.
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, you're a talented artist. No one can deny that. But I'm not the one gettin' in the way with us gettin' this paper. You are. At the end of the day, talent doesn't mean shit if no one is checkin' for you. And right now. You're going down faster than a plane. Your fans aren't feeling you. Money or not, you're becoming reckless and too risky. And
you
and your antics are becoming a liability.”

“C'mon, man. If you'd just ride it out with me, this'll all blow over. I know I can win my fans' trust and respect back. I've already made a public apology.”

I give him a blank stare. “And you think some half-assed public apology means shit when you keep doing the same bullshit?” Then to add to his already fucked up image, this morning someone leaked some photos of this dumb muhfucka with a bong pressed to his fucking lips smoking weed. The muhfucka looked lit the fuck up. When I saw that shit this morning, all I could do was shake my damn head. Then when I called him on it during the first half of this meeting, this muhfucka said he took a few hits because he's stressed. I knew then I'd made the right decision dropping his ass.

I shake my head. “Nah. MK Records isn't that pressed for drama. I'm not checkin' for gangster R&B artists. You seem better suited for Thug Records or some other label that supports slashin' tires ‘n' crackin' bottles upside muhfuckas' heads. But you can't be here.”

J-Smooth gets up from his seat and walks over to the huge picture window that overlooks the city that never sleeps. He stares out as his manager tries to persuade me to reconsider. He tries to convince me that his current situation is simply a minor misunderstanding between a passionate couple who loves hard, and fights harder.

“Mar
Sell,
J's been loyal to you. And…”

“And MK Records has been more than loyal to him. But given these recent events, and with him now being dropped from his endorsement deals, it's best we part ways.”

J-Smooth turns from the window and sighs. “Man, this is fucked up. I don't know why that bitch had to call the cops. None of this would be happening right now if Elena's dumb ass woulda fell back. She knows how I am. She knows I wasn't going to cut her throat or stab her. She blew shit way outta proportionate. We had an argument. Things got heated and got a little outta hand. That's it.”

I frown. “A
little?
You think? Man, do you hear ya'self right now? You pulled a blade on her! Threatened to slice her throat if she tried to leave you! Then went out a slashed all
four
of her damn tires!” I slap the back of my hand into my opposite palm as I speak. “You get arrested and charged with a domestic violence! Not once! Twice!”

“I only slashed
two
tires,” he says, correcting me as if two slashed tires is better than four.

I frown, rocking back and forth in my executive chair.
This dumb muhfucka.
“Okay, two. Big deal. The point is, you slashed her damn tires! And now you have a restraining order slapped on you! By yet another woman! There's something wrong with this picture, man. And the one common thread in all this shit is
you
. I don't know what sort of issues you have with women or how you deal with them, but that you can't see that you have a problem is fuckin' disturbing. You need help to get your shit together.”

As J-Smooth makes his way back to the table, I have to fight the urge to stare at his lips and check myself for looking at him all crazy, wondering if he likes being spanked and fucked in the ass on the low.

Word in the industry is his tongue game is fire. But his dick stroke falls short, real short. Not that that shit matters to a muhfucka like me since I wouldn't be doing shit with his dick, any-fuckin'-way; except, maybe, grabbing it or jacking it off a few times.

But, if the rumors are true, there isn't shit these big-ass hands can do with a lil-ass short dick.

Still, short-dick or not, J-Smooth's a sexy-ass muhfucka to look at.

Man, what the fuck is you doing? This isn't the time to be tryna imagine what this muhfucka looks like stretched out butt-ass naked! Get ya mind outta this niggah's drawz!

I shift back into the soft leather of my chair. Then blink away the image of stretching open J-Smooth's mouth with my dick.

“Man, it's all a big misunderstanding,” he says, pulling out the high-back chair next to me and taking a seat. “I can fix this, man. All I'm asking is for you to not give up on me.”

I shake my head. Then lean back in my seat and casually cross my leg. Real talk, I dig J-Smooth. And I say this. I let him know this shit isn't personal. It's strictly business. And until he gets his mind right and starts moving right, he's not welcomed here.

There's nothing else to be said. I've already wasted enough time on this bullshit.

I stand, straightening my silk tie. “Well, gentleman. Unless either of you have something to say worthy of more of my time, I'm done. I have an important lunch meeting, and I—”

J-Smooth scowls. “So that's it? You just gonna dismiss me like I'm some random cat on the streets?” He pushes back in his chair, hard, standing; almost knocking the chair backward. “This is bullshit! Some real foul shit, man! And you know it! How you gonna just turn your back on me after all the records I've sold?”

I sigh, smoothing a hand over my tie. “Look. I'm gonna ask you nicely to bounce before I call security and have you escorted outta here. Don't let this get ugly, fam. Roll out ‘n' go get ya shit together.”

His manager tries to talk some sense into him. “C'mon, Jaquan, man. You're already in enough mess. Let's not add more insult to injury.”

I pull my buzzing phone from out of my pocket. It's a text from my assistant, Arianna, letting me know the front of the building is swarming with the paparazzi.

I shake my head, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “You might wanna take the stairs and exit outta the back of the building. There are cameras out front. I'm sure waiting for
you
.”

“I'm not running from them. I have nothing to hide.”

His manager tries to dissuade him from flapping his gums to the press. To just fall back before he digs himself into another hole. But this muhfucka is a Know It All.

I cock an eyebrow, shaking my head. “Suit ya'self.” I walk over to the door, then pull it open.

J-Smooth stares me down, then reluctantly stalks toward the door. “Man, fuck this shit. I'm out.” He brushes by me as he walks out. I grit my teeth and fight to keep from punching him in the back of his muthafuckin' head.

•  •  •

“Hey, baby, I say, leaning down and kissing Marika on the lips. She's already seated at the sushi bar at Masa's—a twenty-six-seat Japanese restaurant in the Time Warner Center with a $450 menu price per person, not including the two bottles of sake and tip. As pricey as this shit is, I dig this spot and how they change the omakase for every season. And watching Chef Masa do his thing is worth every penny.

Marika smiles at me, then glances at her watch. “I didn't think you were going to make it. How'd the meeting go?”

I give her the condensed version then quickly change the subject, draping my arm on the back of her chair. “But enough about that. I don't wanna talk about that dumb muhfucka. How was your morning?”

“Busy. Spent my first half of the morning in an editors' meeting, then the last half of it with publicity.”

I smile, then lean in and kiss her on the neck. “You're so fucking sexy.”

“So are you.”

I nuzzle my nose in her neck. “Damn, you smell good.” She's wearing my favorite scent, Lolita Lempicka. Real talk, every time she wears this shit I wanna lick her up. I whisper in her ear, “You getting my dick hard, baby.”

She playfully sucks her teeth. “Your dick stays hard.”

“Ah. What can I say? You have that affect on me. I'm weak for you, baby. And so fuckin' turned on by you.”

I eye the chef as he grinds fresh wasabi root in front of us, then goes about the business of preparing our first fish dish. Each dish afterward becoming progressively more elaborate than the one before.

Just as we're finishing up our lunch, my cell rings. I pull it out, then glance at the screen and smirk. I show Marika who's calling. She smiles, taking a sip of her sake.

“Yo, what's good, beautiful?”

“Aaah, Marcel,
mijn liefde. Uw stem maakt mijn kut nat.”

I grin.
“Je ne sais pas ce que la baise que vous venez de dire mais il ma bite dur.”
I tell her I don't know what the fuck she just said to me but it's got my dick hard.

Marika shakes her head, grinning.

Nairobia gives a low, sexy chuckle. “I said, ‘my love. Your voice makes my pussy wet.' ”

“Just how we like it,” I say, glancing over at Marika. She meets my gaze and I wink at her. “Nice and wet.”

“And I hope to have all of my wetness smeared all over your wife's beautiful lips. Oh how I long to feel my aching clit throbbing against her greedy tongue and her fingers fucking into the folds of
mijjn natte, sappige kut.”

I fan my legs open, then shut as she talks about being fucked in her wet, juicy cunt with Marika's fingers. “Oh, word? Is that all you wanna feel?”

She moans, softly. “And your big black cock. Mmm. You know I love big dick, Mar
Sell
.”

Nairobia's freak-ass knows she can get this dick raw…whenever. In her neck, that is. Although, on some real shit. One time I did fuck around and run this dick up in her without a condom. In the heat of passion, Marika and I were so caught up in the moment that we were on some crazy impulsive-type shit that night. But, I ain't gonna front. That raw pussy was good as hell.

But after the nut was popped, and all the freak-dust settled, Marika and I raced down to our doctor's office to get tested. Even though we get tested every three months, and we only fuck with muhfuckas who get tested regularly too, that was some real scary shit. I was stressed out for almost a whole damn week waiting to hear back from the doctor with my results.

“Yeah, I know you do, baby. So what's good? You in the city?”

“The day after next,” she says real low ‘n' sultry. “And I will see you and Marika, no?” I tell her we'll have to check our schedules, first. But more than likely we'll be there. Marika eyes me, gesturing for me to hurry up off the phone.