Bi-Satisfied Page 5

  I was kicking myself in the ass. Almost wanted to cry, because David had a way of using his silence to speak for him. He wouldn’t say anything to me. Most of the time he wouldn’t even argue back. He would let me show my ass, and he would still treat me the same as he’d always done. I didn’t know what to make of that. It bothered me a lot. I walked over, took his hand, and sat down in the chair. He made sure I was comfortable before he sat down. After he blessed the food, we ate in silence. More like he ate. I couldn’t bring myself to eat more than a few spoonfuls of grits.

  “David—”

  He cut me off. “No. Don’t apologize, because you’re just going to do it again. We’re going to do it again . . . be in this place. So stop apologizing,” he said firmly.

  “I promise, I didn’t mean to go there.”

  “Go where?” he asked, looking up at me.

  “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m serious.”

  He shrugged and went back to eating. Cut into his pancakes as his silence and nonchalance cut into me. Finally, he said, “So am I. It’s what we do.”

  “No, it isn’t. We’ve never . . . I’ve never hit you, and you’ve never lied to me.”

  “Not what I’m talking about.” He chewed slowly, then looked back up at me. “We do this thing, this shit where we act like we’re in a relationship, but we’re not. We go out together. We sleep in the same beds. Hide how deep our friendship really is while at work. Look at me. You pretty much gave me your ass to kiss tonight, and what the fuck am I doing? Sitting in your house, catering to you. So, I get it now. You don’t want a man. You want somebody to play with. Hence the reason why you’re always fucking married men.”

  My eye twitched. His words stung. The anger and malice there made me grind my teeth. I told him, “That was low, David. Real fucking low.”

  He stared at me head-on, his eyes never leaving mine. “That’s the truth, Summer. Does it hurt?”

  “I don’t . . . I’m not always fucking married men.”

  “Bullshit. You used to look at every single man in the room until you found a man with a wedding band, and all bets were off.”

  “Not t-true,” I stammered. “Sometimes it happened that way.”

  “Yeah, I guess the same way you slipped, tripped, and landed on their dicks.”

  “So you see me as a whore, then?”

  He didn’t answer me. Looked back down at his plate and began to eat.

  “Wow. Tell me how you really feel, then,” I said sarcastically.

  Pushing away from the table, I stood. I walked out of the room and headed upstairs to my bedroom. I slammed my door behind me and sat on my bed. For a while all I could do was look around aimlessly as David’s words attacked me over and over again in my head.

  You don’t want a man. You want somebody to play with.

  I did want a man. Just didn’t want one who was sexually attracted to other men.

  You don’t want a man. You want somebody to play with. Hence the reason why you’re always fucking married men.

  His words clawed at my insides. Made me place my head between my legs to stifle a scream. Truth be told, he was right. Married men were safer. I didn’t have to worry about any attachments. Didn’t have to worry about whether they would love me, then leave me. Both of us had the same agenda. We could fuck, get those rocks off, and then get dressed and leave without saying good-bye. No soliloquies of affection. No “I miss yous.” No “I love yous.” Just wet pussy and hard dick finding gratification.

  My room needed to be cleaned. A bottle of sweet red wine sat on the nightstand next to my bed. I leaned back, scooped the bottle up, and pulled the cork out. I took a full swig. Drank way more than I should have. Clothes lay all around my room, having been thrown on the floor haphazardly. My bed hadn’t been made in about a week. I needed to do laundry. Clean underwear, thongs, boy shorts, and the like were all around. Shoes had been strewn about.

  I heard my Bose speakers come alive within the walls of my home. The smooth sounds of Marvin Gaye serenaded me as he told me he wanted me and needed me to want him too. David was talking to me again without speaking to me. I took the wine bottle to the bathroom with me. I stripped naked and turned my shower on. Stepped into the carved stone shower stall with the square-shaped showerhead and let the water drown out what my heart and mind were yelling at me. I tried to ignore the fact that my body was betraying me, had always betrayed me when it came to David.

  “Out of all the men . . . ,” I mumbled to myself.

  As much as I tried to drown out the song in the shower, Marvin’s words still crept in like a thief in the night and stole my reprieve. David had the song on repeat as I washed myself with honeysuckle and mint body wash. I stayed in the shower for as long as I could. My fingers and toes started to wrinkle. Didn’t know how long I’d been in there. I got out of the shower and, still wet, walked out of the bathroom to find my room had been cleaned. Bed made, shoes placed neatly back on my shoe rack. Underwear put back where it was supposed to be. Laundry basket had disappeared. Clothes put away. I ran a hand through my wet hair and turned to find David standing behind me.

  “Shit! Y-you scared m-me,” I stuttered.

  He didn’t say anything. He looked down at me as his locks swept across his T-shirt. I had a towel wrapped around me. Water trickled down my body. My hair was dripping wet. I wiggled my fingers and toes. I wanted to kiss him again. Wanted to see if before had all been because of the atmosphere and the mood we were in, or if what I had felt was real. I didn’t want to lose David. No, he wasn’t my man, but he was the only man who had been a constant in my life besides my foster father.

  We both knew what our looks implied. I closed the gap between us as he walked farther into the room. His eyes were heady. Alcohol and fatigue gave him the look of being high. I wanted to kiss him, but he dropped his head against mine and cupped the back of my neck with one of his hands. The other hand grabbed one of mine. We’d been fighting the inevitable for years. I could feel him swelling through his sweats. Smelled the mint on his breath, which told me he’d just brushed his teeth. Yes, he had toiletries at my place. Had clothes too, and a pillow on the other side of my bed.

  I let the towel go. Felt it slide down my naked body and hit the floor. With my free hand, I found my way underneath his shirt. His breath caught; his abs quivered as he tried to maintain control. I tilted my head up . . . had to catch my breath as our lips stopped short of kissing. We both knew that if we went there, there would be no turning back. He pulled back a bit, looked down into my eyes.

  “Say it,” he asked me.

  “You already know,” I answered.

  “I want you to say it.”

  I was so afraid . . . so damn scared to say that three-letter word. I took his mouth, hard. Kissed him like the wanton whore he thought me to be. My kiss was not gentle, as his had been. My kiss was animalistic. I tore at his shirt. Backed him up. Slammed his back against the wall. I was in control. I loved the fact that even though David was a dominant male, he gave me that moment of control. That kiss, the way he was returning, it was poetic. Every time I sucked on his lips, his tongue rewarded me with a heated exchange of equal forcefulness. His teeth pulled at my bottom lip as my hand slipped into his pants.

  He growled low in his throat when I held him tightly, gave him a slow, long stroke to make him grow larger. There was no better aphrodisiac for a woman than to feel a man grow in the palm of her hand all because she had willed him to do so. I stroked him, kissed him, bit his neck, and his hands explored worlds he’d never gotten a chance to before now. One hand slipped between my legs. I was so wet that he didn’t have to travel deep to find the puddle.

  “Damn, Summer,” he croaked out.

  I gave in to the feeling. Forgot about the fact that he was a switch-hitter. Didn’t let that bother me in the moment. I just gave in . . . enjoyed the feel of his fingers sliding between my lips while his thumb stroked my clitoris
. He stroked me while I milked him. I let my fingers play in his pre-cum. Saturated the mushroom head of his dick with his own excitement, just as he did his fingers with my juices.

  Once the foreplay was too much to bear, he picked me up, guided me back to my bed, and gently laid me down. Pulling off what remained of his T-shirt, he shifted his weight on the bed as he caged me between his muscled arms. He took a moment to look me in the eye again before using his mouth to show both my breasts equal attention. I’d never had a man pay attention to my nipples the way he was doing. He suckled one into his mouth while using his hands to massage my baby feeders. From one nipple to the next, he suckled. He bit down with enough pressure to cause me blinding excitement.

  Marvin kept singing to us. Kept us caught up in the moment, so we couldn’t hear our own thoughts. The music was our drug while David’s long tongue slid down my chest to my stomach. He took time to pay my belly button some attention. Went on to place kisses on both sides of the creases in my pelvis.

  “Shit . . . David,” I managed to mutter.

  My back was arched and my toes were curled in anticipation of what he was about to do. He kissed around my slick, hairless mound, teasing me. My clit ached. Pussy swelled, yearning for what I knew was to come. He placed tongue kisses against my inner thighs, and just when I thought he was about to place his face between my thighs, he moved back over. Tongued all around my pussy, then blew on my clit, making me shiver in eagerness.

  I went to grab his locks. Wanted to guide his face to where I wanted . . . where I needed his lips to be. He gripped my hands. Did it so fast that it almost scared me. I looked down at him as he came back up. I could see his dick tenting his sweats. I had to watch out for that curve when the time came.

  He looked me in the eye as he licked his lips. “Say it,” he demanded.

  “David . . . please.” My thighs were shaking, practically quaking, because I needed that release.

  “Say it, Summer. Say yes.”

  I wanted to, but I couldn’t. If I said yes, I’d be saying yes to opening myself up to love. I’d be saying yes to more than sex. David was already in my mind and my spirit. If I said yes, I’d be allowing him inside my body and my soul as well. I couldn’t do that. Couldn’t be with a man whom I would never be enough for. I could be a lot of things for him, but I could never be a man. He was watching me. He knew me. Knew that I wouldn’t tell him what he so desperately needed to hear. His lips balled, and I thought he was going to leave me unfulfilled.

  Instead, he dropped to his knees. His mouth . . . lips. . . tongue zoomed in on my pussy in a primal fit of sexual rage. He rolled his tongue up and down my slit, occasionally flicking it against my clit. His mouth covered my pussy, licking and sucking on those parts that made me a woman. I wanted to touch him, but he wouldn’t let my hands go. My back arched when he used his tongue to fuck me. My hips bucked and my teeth ground when he sucked and tongued my clitoris. My breaths came out in spurts.

  “Fuckkk,” I groaned. I sang a Song of Solomon all in the name of David.

  It was coming. I knew I was coming. Felt those muscles clench in the bottom of my stomach. Felt that rush of adrenaline taking me on a natural high.

  I screamed, “Oh, shit . . .” Then I yelled his name. “David . . .” Needed religion. Dear God . . .

  I made an ugly face. The “come” face, which made me forget I was human. I was having the kind of orgasm that transformed me into something else . . . another entity altogether. He released my hands to fight to get me to release my thighs, which were clamped around his head. He finally pried them open. Splayed them as wide as he wanted them. Not once did he stop licking, sucking, drinking, slurping, dining on me.

  I became greedy. Grabbed a handful of locks on both sides of his head and ground my hips up and down his face. He gave a guttural groan. Moved his face in sync with my hips. Cupped his hands underneath my ass while I rode his face to another orgasm. By the time I realized that I’d had enough, I was on the verge of blacking out.

  David

  She was out. Had fallen asleep with her legs hanging off the bed. A few moments after I’d brought her to climax, I’d come up and kissed her lips softly until she could get her breathing under control. She was asleep before she knew it. I got up, licked my lips, which still carried her taste, and then scooped her up and placed her in the bed the right way. Her body was limp, and heavier because of it.

  Once I moved her, she lay spread-eagle as she slept. I went to the bathroom and washed her juices off my face and neck. Grabbed her Johnson & Johnson so I could stroke out the nut she had left me with. I could still taste the sweetness of her come. Summer ate Greek yogurt like she had an addiction. So it was no wonder that she smelled like water and tasted like honey. The live, active cultures in the yogurt helped to take care of her feminine parts. Those things, along with the fruit she ate daily, mostly pineapples, kiwis, and bananas, made for a tasty treat.

  I walked downstairs to make sure her air was on. Although it was cold as shit outside, Summer needed the air on, or she wouldn’t rest well. Had learned that about her early on. Since I didn’t plan on going home, I grabbed blankets from her laundry room and made myself at home on her sofa.

  I’d cleaned up the mess she’d made down here, in addition to her bedroom. Summer’s parents had spoiled her. They hadn’t insisted she do her chores when she was a child; therefore, she procrastinated when it came to doing them now. I looked around her townhome and knew her mother had decorated it for her. Black art decorated the walls. Pictures of different tribes in Africa, along with the earth-toned color scheme, indicated that her foster mother wanted her to keep in touch with her roots. In the center of the hardwood floor in the front room was a chocolate rug with circles of different colors in it. Built-in bookshelves on one side of the room were filled with works by black authors, such as Zane, Eric Jerome Dickey, K’wan, Brenda Hampton, Brenda Jackson, Francis Ray, and L. A. Banks. On the bookshelves on the other side of the room, you saw works by Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Terry McMillan, Alice Walker, and others.

  While she was an avid reader, Summer wasn’t domestic. She wasn’t filthy, but she sure wasn’t Suzy Homemaker, either. If she and I ever explored the road of a relationship, I already knew some of those domestic things would fall on me. I didn’t mind it at all. As a kid, I used to clean to keep from going upside the heads of niggas who thought I was soft because I was quiet. I had to show quite a few of them that I was the exact opposite.

  Just then my phone beeped and vibrated. I picked it up to see that Michael had texted me. My eyes shifted toward the stairs. I wouldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t talk to a man whom I had those kinds of feelings for while I was under her roof, especially not after the sexual intimacy we’d shared.

  As bad as I had wanted to dip inside her, I couldn’t. First of all, she had passed out. Probably from the alcohol and the orgasm. Second of all, she hadn’t said yes. I needed her to say yes. I wanted her to want me the way I wanted her. Not to mention, there were other things we needed to address before we went down that road.

  You must be asleep or at Summer’s home. Came by your place and you weren’t there.

  I chuckled at that text. There was a reason I had left my place and had come to Summer’s place. Michael was a hard man to say no to. I was no fool. I’d warned Summer about him, and then I’d taken my own advice.

  Another text came through.

  You owe me one last time. You took that away from me, so you owe me.

  I put the phone down and settled myself on the couch. He was right. I had taken the last time we were supposed to hook up away from him. I hadn’t felt there was a need for us to go there again. Not to mention all the drama that had been going on with us, thanks to me fucking Sadi. Nah, there hadn’t been a need for it.

  With these thoughts swirling in my head, I drifted off to sleep. I woke up just before the sun broke through the clouds to find myself covered with a warm body. Still naked, Summer had cr
awled over me and had laid her head on my chest, her legs around my waist. She’d fallen asleep that way. It felt good to have her there. I was cold as fuck. I knew she’d taken the cover off because she was hot. I gave a lazy smile as I looked down at her. My Summer didn’t like the heat she oftentimes produced. My phone beeped again. I went to adjust my glasses and realized that she had taken them off. She was always fussing about me sleeping with them on.

  I picked up the phone, strained to see through the fuzziness that Michael was asking us to meet him for breakfast later. I dropped the phone back on the table, wrapped Summer and myself in a light blanket, and fell back to sleep.

  “I don’t want to go to breakfast with him,” Summer snapped when I told her.

  We were in her front room as I got dressed. I had taken a seat so I could pull my socks on. Summer was standing against the wall across from me with a look on her face that said she wasn’t too thrilled about us going to meet Michael. The night before she had been all into him. Then she had found out that he and I had been more than friends once upon a time.

  “I would like to,” I responded.

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s my friend, and he came to town to visit me. I’d like to spend a little time with him.”

  Summer stared at me. Gave me a look that said something between “You’re lying” and “I don’t trust you.” She was still naked. We’d showered together. No words had been spoken about what had happened hours earlier. She had wanted to return the favor. She had got down on her knees in the shower and had given me what she’d deprived me of when she passed out. I’d had head from men and women, some of the best, but Summer . . . Summer didn’t give head. Summer gave fellatio.