Bi-Satisfied Page 14

  “Oh, my God, Michael. I’m so sorry. . . .”

  “Yeah, me too. Still didn’t turn my old man in, though. Told the police some random person had attacked me from behind and I didn’t see who’d done it.”

  I took a moment to take in the man. When you first met Michael, you thought all was well in his world. He walked with an air of superiority that made you think the world was his. But underneath all that bravado was a man who had silenced his demons. Had put the past under his feet and had walked away from it, as if it had never existed. I knew what that felt like. I knew what it was to have to silence the voices in your head in order to move on from the past.

  “Do you keep in contact with your family now?” I asked him.

  He shook his head somberly. “My youngest sister is the only one who really reaches out to me and my family these days. My mom will sporadically send a text to ask how I’m doing. To tell me that she’s happy I married a woman and had children, and that despite my sinful illness, she’ll always love me.”

  I rushed in to hug him. I felt the need to hold him. I closed my eyes and squeezed him tight as my fingers traced up and down the elongated scar. I thought about David. Wondered if his family had casted him out the same way Michael’s family had done to him. David never talked about what he remembered of his parents, since he’d been in the system most of his childhood.

  I sat there, holding Michael that way. He had said he didn’t love David, but the first person he had run to when he needed someone the most was David. Same as me. I thought back to what he’d said earlier about Sadi and David having things in common. It seemed as if he’d gone out and found a female version of David . . . the same way that David had compared Michael and me. David had found a female version of Michael, it would seem. I let those thoughts drift off into the wind. Wouldn’t even do that to myself. Wouldn’t think about what it meant.

  I pulled back from the hug, then laid my head against his. “You’re a strong man, Michael.”

  He smirked as his hands roamed up and down my back, then settled on my ass and gave it a hard squeeze. “Most of the time,” he confirmed. “You can’t be holding a brother like this, though.”

  As he talked, his lips brushed against mine. I couldn’t help the instant heat I felt in the pit of my stomach. As his big hand gripped my backside, his fingers brushed against my vaginal lips, stirring my desire. My lips had already swelled to the point where my clit was rubbing against the fabric of my shorts. He placed his lips against the swell of my breasts, and my nipples got even harder. Started to ache.

  “Why not? Can’t a girl show some compassion?”

  “Yeah, she can,” he answered, then let his eyes roam over my face.

  His gaze was intense, heated. Like he was seeing through the very fabric of what made me a woman. For a minute I thought I had Michael figured out. We all had vices we used to get over the pain in our lives. Maybe his vice was sex. We’d quickly gone from talking about the issues that plagued his life to treading the waters of our hedonistic rituals of pleasure seeking.

  I let out a deep breath. “Think David would be mad if we did this while he wasn’t here?”

  “I don’t know. We can stop if you want to.”

  There it was. He’d given me an out, but as he expertly moved my shorts to the side so his fingers could slip inside me, I knew he was bluffing. My nails lightly scratched the surface of his back as I moaned low.

  “You lie, Michael.”

  “I know, Freckles. Been wanting to see what it would feel like to have you ride my dick. Want to see if you can ride as good as you threw that pussy back at me in the kitchen.”

  Our eye contact was strong and direct. Those honey-colored hypnotizers were enticing me back into his world. His words aroused me. No, they had no couth to them, but I liked that. I liked that straightforwardness. I did want to fuck Michael. Wanted to fuck him again and again and again. I wanted to know what it felt like to have David take me from behind while Michael sucked on my clit. I had the urge to see if I could handle them both at once, one inside my vaginal walls, making me cream, and the other taking me somewhere I’d never been before as he slowly inched his way into my chocolate star. Michael and David made me that way. Made me want to do things I’d never done before. Touch what I’d never touched. See what I’d never seen.

  I wanted that. The same way I wanted David to walk in and catch me and Michael in the act of coitus on my front-room floor. The same way I wanted him to join us and take me to another world. The same way I needed David to answer his phone and not be mad at me anymore. Oh . . . God . . . the same way I needed Michael not to ever stop sucking on my breasts as he was doing. He wrapped his long tongue around each nipple. Sucked and gently bit each sensitive morsel until he sucked my entire areola into his mouth.

  All the while his other hand stopped fingering me to hurriedly release his dick from his sweats. Once he had removed it, I took it in my hands and gave it one slow stroke before rising and guiding him inside me. I owned Michael in that moment. I could tell by the way his eyes widened and he mouthed the word “wow” as my hips started to work slowly against him. He was mine. Not Sadi’s. Not David’s. Michael was mine. I owned him. I wanted to own David. Wanted to possess him.

  I had to shake my head from side to side. Bit down on my bottom lip and praised every god there was for the magnificence that was his manhood. God, he hugged my walls. Stretched them to fit him snugly as I glided up and down his disco stick. I may not have known if I had any island in me or not, but I wanted to prove to him that my hips worked as well as his. I couldn’t stop looking at his face. Couldn’t get over the fact that as powerful a man as he was, he was putty in my hands at that moment. So damn weak. Mouth at half-mast, stuck somewhere between the letter O and looking as if he was about to have a heart attack, I basked in that moment of glory.

  “Fucking fuck, Freckles. Shit, baby. Wait. Shit. Wait. I don’t want to come yet,” he begged as he buried his face in my chest. I stopped, as he had requested. Only because I was selfish and didn’t want him to come yet, either. “You do this shit to David?” he asked me in all seriousness.

  I smiled slyly. Didn’t answer him.

  I rolled my back. Dipped my hips and gave him a slow wind and watched him lose his mind. He fell back against my couch, angst on his features. His position gave me better leverage. I squatted with ease while he was inside me. Those Kegel exercises were working overtime as I butterflied him to premature ejaculation. He made a face like he was in pain. Inhaled and exhaled like he was drowning and trying desperately to catch his last breath. Twitched like he’d been struck by electricity. Once the tides had rolled in and the waves had subsided, he focused his watery eyes back on me.

  “Shit, Freckles. Fuck,” he said as he looked up at me in a panic. “Did you come?”

  I shook my head once. “No.”

  Although I hadn’t had my orgasm, I wasn’t even mad. For some reason, my pleasure came in seeing me break Michael down to his sex. I owned him with sex. Not with powerful words. Not with damaging emotions. Just sex. For a woman like me to do that to a man like Michael was a potent aphrodisiac.

  He quickly flipped me over onto my back and swiftly entered me again. His dick was semi-hard, but it was enough to cause me great pleasure. He kissed my neck. Sucked and licked all around, making me moan a song of arousal. He didn’t forget my ears. Like David, he didn’t ignore my ears. I loved when they took the time to hit that pleasure zone. Michael devoured my breasts like he was ravished by the need to stimulate me that way, and all the while his hips worked with fervor. That simple missionary position caused his pelvis to give my clitoris direct stimulation. His dick was hardening again. Damn, he was getting so hard. I clawed and pulled at the pillows on the couch behind me. His hands held my waist to keep me from moving. He didn’t want to run the risk of coming again before I did.

  I loved that shit. Absolutely loved the way he isolated my hips so he could do all the work. I screamed ou
t my satisfaction loudly. I didn’t care who heard me. Michael stuck his tongue in my mouth and took the fire in the room up a notch. Slid one hand between us and put pressure on my core bud until I had no choice but to release my orgasm. He buried his face in my neck and muttered obscene vulgarities about how good my snatch was to him. Told me he hadn’t had pussy as good as mine in all his life. Told me he wanted to see me squirt again. Wanted me to sit on his face and drown him in my love. He told me all of this as he grunted and groaned that Freckles was making him bust another nut so soon after the first one.

  Once it was all over, he lay on top of me, breathing like he was having an asthma attack. I kept my arms and legs wrapped around him, a satisfied smile on my face. We lay there in silence and let our heavy breathing serenade us. I thought he was sleeping after a while, until he rolled over, pulled me to him so that we were spooning, and held me.

  I was shocked when he asked me, “Think we should call him again?”

  I wanted to call David. I did, but I knew I needed to get at least a few hours of sleep in before working in the morning. And I was weak. Too damn weak to move my arms to pick up the phone.

  “He’ll be at work in the morning,” I said. “I miss him too.”

  “What time does he get to the office?”

  “About seven.”

  “What time do you leave?”

  “About six.”

  “Wake me up when you get up.”

  “Okay.”

  We were quiet again. I was in and out of a sleep state.

  “You’re trouble, Freckles,” he said after a while.

  “But you like getting into trouble.”

  He gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I do.”

  My phone rang about three or four times in the middle of the night. Each time I answered, no one said anything. I didn’t bother looking at the caller ID and answered blindly each time as I’d been asleep. Michael turned the TV off after the fourth phone call. We both got up to pee. He grabbed some blankets, and we pulled pillows from the couch and placed them on the floor near the couch. We fell back to sleep, with satisfaction wafting over our bodies and with David on our brain.

  David

  Two weeks had passed since our weekend rendezvous with Michael. Summer and I had fallen back into our same routine. I’d stayed mad at her for all of a couple of days, until she cornered me in my office and demanded I talk to her.

  “So, how long are we going to do this?” she asked.

  “Do what?” I asked her as I looked up from the files on my desk.

  “How long are you going to make me pay for being honest?”

  It was after hours. I’d been working late nights so I wouldn’t be tempted to say, “Forget it all,” and go back to the way things were. Her hair was in a lopsided ponytail. She looked as if she had just got done exercising and had decided to show up. She was in yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt. Dressed down, but beautiful nonetheless.

  “For about as long as you continue to make me suffer for your insecurities.”

  “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

  “That’s what it feels like.”

  “Well, I’m not. What if I told you I was trying to save you your sanity? If you know I’m insecure, then why want to be with me? You want to live your life, with me always questioning you about other men? You want to always have to check your phone, only to see me giving you ultimatums about who you can and can’t hang out with? What kind of relationship would that be? We’d end up apart, because you’ll get tired of that, and you’ll want your freedom, your peace.”

  She had a point. I couldn’t argue with it. No, I didn’t want to live that way. Had done that in past relationships and didn’t want to travel that road again. It always resulted in countless arguments, pointless explanations, and stressful fights. Dealing with an insecure mate was hell. The kind that I didn’t want to live through again. Yet I couldn’t stand the fact that it felt like I had to give up on love with the one woman I wanted, needed.

  “There are always ways we can work around that,” I told her. “That’s what I’m trying to do now. Trying to get you to open yourself up to love without all the bullshit. You never gave me a chance, Summer. Never gave us a chance.”

  Summer looked around my office. Pretended to be interested in the degrees and accolades I had on the walls. There was one picture that held her attention. A picture of me and her. Whenever anyone looked at that picture of us, they always questioned why we weren’t together. It was clear that we were happy together in that photo. Hot sand underneath our feet and happiness on our faces as we stood on a beach in Aruba.

  She walked over to me. Took my pen from my hand, pushed my chair back, and straddled my lap. Summer placed her hand on my shoulders and breathed in deeply as she looked down at me. Her being that close evoked an instant chemical reaction in me. I leaned back as I watched her. I wondered what she was going to do. In her eyes I could see images of us dancing around. I saw myself as her husband. She as my wife. I saw our future in her eyes. Wondered if she saw the same.

  She leaned down to kiss my lips, and I turned my head, letting her catch my cheek. I was still angry and annoyed with her all in the same breath. Although I wanted to hold her and kiss her, I knew I couldn’t keep letting Summer play with me the way she did. I couldn’t keep letting her think that it was okay to use my feelings like a toy that she could pick up and put down whenever she wanted. As bad as I wanted to lay her on my desk, rip away those yoga pants, and taste what I knew was sitting plump and juicy between her legs, I wouldn’t. To hear her tell me no again, give me the lame excuse that she didn’t feel as if she was all that I needed, was comical to me.

  I needed a break. Needed a reprieve to get my head together. Summer was getting to me. She was starting to affect me, and not in the way I wanted her to. I’d spoiled Summer. Made her think my world revolved around hers. And it did in a sense. It was for that very reason that she thought it was okay for her to treat me the way she did. The very reason she assumed that I’d be forgiving so easily.

  The woman who carried my heart in the palm of her hand was determined, though. She placed that kiss against my cheek like she didn’t care that I’d turned my head. Gave light licks and nibbles to my jawline. My head started to swim as I thought about getting lost deep in her waves. I inhaled and exhaled deeply as I turned my eyes back to her.

  “I know you’re mad at me—” she began.

  “No, I’m not,” I said quickly, cutting her off.

  “Then why this treatment of me?”

  I wasn’t going to answer that question again. I felt as if I was becoming repetitive. Didn’t know how many more times I could tell her the answer to that question.

  She didn’t say anything for a while and then, “I miss you, David.”

  I had to be honest. Couldn’t deny that I missed her too. “I know. I miss you too.”

  “So are you coming over once you’re done here?”

  She’d found a crack in my wall. Had known what she was doing when she walked in my office, looking and smelling like she did. I’d missed being around her so much that I’d gone to taking pages out of Michael’s playbook. I’d started playing with my dick. Every night I’d gone home, remembering what it was to be so deep inside her, and I’d lost myself. I didn’t know where she began and I ended. Just the thought of it in that moment was killing me. Summer was so sexually aware that it was hard for a man to let her go once things were supposed to be over. To mix her sexuality with her mental prowess was kryptonite in that moment for me. She had me, and she knew it. I didn’t want to let her know how easy it was for her to get under my skin, though.

  “No,” I told her.

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  She sighed, then laid her head on my shoulder. We sat that way for minutes. I could feel the heat from her desire and made the mistake of moving. That simple slip allowed her to feel what she was doing to me. She spread her legs wider and settled more
onto my lap. The swell of my manhood pressed firmly against what made her a woman anatomically. Wasn’t long before her soft lips found my neck. I opened and closed my left hand. Made a tight fist to release some tension. She let her tongue trail all the way up to the spot beneath my right earlobe.

  “Let me make it up to you,” she whispered in my ear. Her face was so close to mine that if someone had walked in, they would have assumed we were Siamese twins joined at the jaw.

  I looked in her eyes. “Did you think about that when you were fucking Michael?”

  She sat up and then gazed down at me with uncertainty. She’d told me about how she and Michael had fucked way into the night and in the early morning before he left. She’d been a little disappointed that she’d awakened to find him gone. He’d asked her to wake him, but she had woken up late, only to find that he’d left her. Typical Michael. He had got his fill, what he wanted, and then he was gone like a thief in the night. I took issue with what they had done, as crazy as it sounded. The jealousy I felt betrayed me.

  “You wouldn’t pick up the phone,” was her answer.

  “So that meant it was okay?”

  “No. Didn’t say that.” She cast a glance down at her hands, then back up at me.

  I didn’t respond to her. Couldn’t, because guilt had also taken up residence in me. I’d been pissed at Michael for fucking her too. I was jealous that I couldn’t have him the way I wanted to, either. Was envious of how effortless it was for her to have him her way, and for him to have her his way. Didn’t matter to either of them that he was a married man. That was the stigma attached to our sexuality. A woman could spread her legs for a married man, and the worst thing she would be called was a home wrecker or a whore. If a man cheated on his wife with another man, especially in the black community, then he was the reason HIV ran rampant in the black community. He was disgusting and nasty, and the world would never be forgiving to a down-low faggot.

  It angered me that Michael had placed himself into that DL category. Why he did that with his wife was beyond me. I was jealous of the chemistry between him and Summer. Wanted to know what it meant to say, “Fuck all my morals,” and to go there with him one more time. I wanted to, but his living a secret wasn’t all I’d have to worry about if I did that. I’d have to worry about the woman sitting on my lap and how she would see me after the deed was done. I had all the restraints, and they had all the freedom. What part of the game was that?