Читать книгу She Ain't The One - Carl Weber - Страница 7

I grinned to keep from crying, to keep from laughing, to keep from screaming hysterically in Jay’s face. I didn’t want this good-looking man to think I was crazy, but the reason I’d flown all the way from Dallas to D.C. and ended up at Zanzibar by myself was to escape my relationship blues. I could’ve easily gone down the street to the Channel Inn, but the concierge at my hotel said the crowd was too old. Or I could’ve walked a block down to H20, but there was a long line of what appeared to be college-aged students waiting to get in.

My objective when I left Dallas was to go to a city where no one knew me. I needed to spend some time alone trying to figure out where things went wrong between me and my ex. I wasn’t looking for a new man; I was perfectly content grieving over my breakup with Darius, until Jay made me laugh. Maybe I could use Jay to forget about Darius, like Darius used his new fiancée to forget about me.

The saying “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” for me was more like “always the ex, never the wife.” A bitter lump of jealously lodged in my throat as I imagined Darius and his bride-to-be, happy together.

Girl, lighten up and live a little, I thought, avoiding eye contact with Jay. Darius is not the only man in the world for you and you’ve got two hundred pounds of chocolate proof standing right in front of you smiling…at you. Come on, forget about Darius, you deserve to be happy too.

I was too choked up to say anything to Jay so I shifted my attention to his glorious body and frisked him with my eyes.

Jay stood tall, not stiff. With confidence he planted his foot on the stainless steel rim at the bottom of the bar stool. A hint of arrogance accented the arch in his back as he leaned closer to me. His arrogance was attractive, but I could tell Jay wasn’t a player or a gigolo like the other men in the VIP section who’d approached me. Jay was just what I needed—comical, caring, and sexy as hell.

When he interlocked his hands atop the table, I almost fell off my stool. I couldn’t help but notice this Mandingo had thick succulent fingers. His middle fingers were longer than his ring fingers, which meant his dick was longer than six inches. After riding Darius’s nine inches, I hated when a man’s middle finger was shorter because that meant regardless of the size of his hands, his dick was five and a half inches at best.

Thinking of best, I bet those hands could make me come hard without touching my clit. Mmm, mmm…look at the size of those feet. I can’t wait to see his toes. Sure hope his second toe is longer than the big toe!

He nodded, showing me his pearly white teeth. He looked like he could’ve whupped up on every man in the club without breaking a sweat or unraveling his dark, curly locks.

“Hey, again, look…sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted, but I—”

Gently covering his knuckles, I said, “No need to apologize, lovely; I’m glad you got rid of him,” then whispered, “I’m Ash-lee.” Slowly smiling, I dipped my tongue into the crevice of my lips, gliding the tip along my upper lip to the opposite side. The Bobbi Brown red lip moisture that I swabbed on my inner lips made my mouth irresistible. Many men lusted but never tasted my cherry flavor. I loved the fact that this product didn’t get on my teeth. I gave Jay a half smile and a wink before caressing my own hands.

Glancing around, I saw that people were starting to leave, which meant I had about fifteen minutes to make up my mind. I could make a new friend or go back to my hotel room alone.

Girl, stop trippin’. No one in D.C. knows you, not even Jay. Invite himto that big-ass suite you have at the Hyatt. For once in your life, think like a man, Ashlee. Men know how to have no-attachment fun and sex—have some fun and hell, if you feel like it, ride that dick too.

But if I asked him to come to my room at three in the morning, he’d want to fuck.

Precisely. What’s the problem? His hands? His feet? That’s not it. Then what’s the problem?

Sex with another man would completely ruin all chances of getting back with Darius. Jay wasn’t worth the risk. Or was he? I glanced at his feet again. But if I fucked Jay on the first—damn, I can’t even call this a date—the first night, what would he think of me?

Who gives a damn? Stop dwelling on the negatives; think of the positives. Look at those dark chocolate lips, girl. You’ve got about twenty minutes before last call. Literally!

Making a move, I laughed, leaning my breasts toward this mouthwatering, tall man who’d saved me, or should I say saved that watermelon-head who walked away? I was about to cuss that idiot out if he hadn’t peeled his raggedy fingernails away from my precious silky skin. God knew I had enough Darius-inflicted scars already. Emotionally. Physically. What made that jerk think he had the right to invade my space and feel me up? Oh, I was about to lay hands on that—I hated when a man disrespected me, and loved when a man protected me the way Jay did.

Focus, Ashlee, focus. You are not alone; you have someone sitting across from you, okay?

“Um, um, um. Thanks for keeping me from slapping that man,” I said angrily, then checked myself, meshing laughter with a contrived smile.

My handsome protector smiled, winked, then silently gazed at me, making me hot for sex…with my ex.

You got it bad, girl.

I pictured Darius making love to Fancy. Fancy seemed so perfect: her shape, her breasts, her multimillion-dollar real estate firm. Bitch. Wish I could say she was chasing after Darius for his NBA contract money, but that was a lie.

For some odd reason, Jay reminded me of Darius. I loved Darius so much that, even with laughter bellowing from my stomach at this very moment, my heart ached. I whispered Darius’s name into the cobwebs of my confused mind. as Jay awaited a response.

I turned my long torso away from Jay, hoping he’d move on to one of the VIP groupies waiting to do anything for or with any man in the VIP section. A few of them were even staring at Jay as he stood in front of me, obviously waiting for him to leave so that they could pounce on him like a cat. (Ladycat—that was Darius’s nickname for Fancy.)

Interestingly, those hussies prancing around us with way too much cleavage bursting out of their tops and pubic hairs peering from underneath their skirts didn’t seem to impress him. Maybe Jay was a better catch than I realized.

As he scratched behind his ear, a perplexed grin replaced my rescuer’s laughter, making his deep dimples fade from his cheeks. His beautiful brown eyes lowered from my eyes to my arm, lingering on the pinkish imprint that asshole’s paw left behind, then back up to my eyes.

Seductively he asked, “Are you okay?” He shoved the bar stool farther underneath the high circular table, giving me a clear view of the large imprint of his dick freely hanging inside his slacks.

Damn. I’m much better now. Thanks.

I heard his question but didn’t respond, second-guessing if his charm was natural or his way of trying to sway me into his bedroom, spread my legs, and then make a deposit with no return. More than likely, he just wanted sex. A one-night stand. A good time for himself. Certainly, he didn’t care about me. If he did, he would’ve noticed I could’ve used a hug. I was sure that, in his mind, he’d already grazed his luscious tongue over my perky pink nipples, sucking them into a firm erection. My ruby-red lipstick was probably wrapping around his dick, trailing from his bulging head down to his nuts, until he’d come all over my face in a pleasurable roar while running his fingers through my long hair.

I don’t know what I’ll do if this man uses me up too. I stared through the window at the boats docked outside on the waterfront. The motionless vessels, synchronizing with my slender body, indicated the water was calm. So was I—on the outside. I was confused on the inside. I desperately wanted him, yet I didn’t want to feel dirty afterward if I gave myself to him. Yeah, whoever this fine man was, patiently smiling at me, if he knew what I knew, he would leave now. Right now.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

Not looking at him I whispered, “I’m fine.” And, God, please don’t let him say, “You sure are,” because I swear, if I hear that lame-ass line one more time, I’ma slap him so hard, the song playing in the background is gonna skip a beat or two.

“Good.” His mouthwatering smile commanded my attention, surprisingly making my panties moist.

Why he stood next to me exuding sexual implications, when he could’ve easily had any one of the so-called women in the room, I didn’t know. Honestly, I did know but hoped I was wrong. I just couldn’t take being a man’s playmate again. I had a brain, and thanks to my doggish ex, my intelligence was attached to a broken heart—a lethal combination for establishing a new love affair.

Imagining Jay’s thick lips kissing my clit, I repositioned my hips on the stool. Damn, he sounded good. I hadn’t made love in almost a year; no man had made me want to. Foolishly I had had sex with Darius whenever he wanted because I didn’t want to believe he didn’t love me no more. Darius had gone from making love to me, to straight-up fucking me like I was a whore he’d picked up for a one-night stand.

Interrupting my thoughts, Jay continued, “You look like a smart lady. Do you mind if I ask you a quick question before I leave?”

Before you leave? Where are you going? He’s supposed to be interested in me.

“Sure. Ask me anything.” I gazed at his hands. Slowly my eyes trailed up his arm, over his biceps, shoulder, neck, to his dimples, and paused. How could I have missed those dazzling dimples? Gradually, I lifted my eyelids, invitingly peering into his eyes. Suppressing my rapid breathing, quietly I inhaled, imagining Jay finger-fucking the shit out of me right now on top of the table in the midst of hundreds of people. Maybe if he fucked me like he didn’t know me, didn’t want to get to know me, and couldn’t care less if he saw me again, I wouldn’t have any expectations of him. Expectations were the detour to the demise of my happiness.

Moaning a slow “Mmmmm,” Jay was a welcome distraction from the previous sorry-ass men with their annoying-ass lines.

What’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting by yourself? Where’s your man? Your husband let you come out alone? Those men knew good ’n well they were happy I was alone and couldn’t care less if I had a man or husband. Besides, they were interrupting me depressing myself by dwelling on all the things Darius and I had been through.

Jay smiled. “Do you think a man can be friends with his ex?”

“Huhhhh?” Thanks for interrupting my thoughts and making my pussy hot again. I lowered my head as silence hovered over us. I couldn’t escape the memories. My history with Darius defined me. Denied me from being free. Darius’s mom married my dad, and I was naive enough to let him convince me that our parents’ marriage didn’t make us related. He reassured me it was okay for us to become lovers because even though we’d lived together as kids we weren’t biologically related and there was no way that our kids would come out deformed. Darius always loved a challenge. The longer I said no, the more attention he’d given me. When I submitted to his desires, I thought if I made Darius happy, he would make me happy, and we’d be together forever.

“Was it something I said?” Jay asked, lightly touching my hand.

My pussy quivered. Reclaiming my hand, I answered his first question, “Not if you’re still in love. Exes can never be friends; not true friends anyway.”

I’d been foolish enough to accept a job working for Darius at his Los Angeles company, Somebody Gotta Be On Top. Sure as hell wasn’t me—unless we were having sex. That no-good bastard used me up, then proposed to some…some…whateva. I should’ve kicked his ass or demolished his house, or made him lose that NBA contract, but all I did was listen to my know-it-all lawyer daddy and move back home from Los Angeles to Dallas. Living in a different city from Darius didn’t make me love him any less. I loved him more.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jay flipped open his cell phone and looked at the time. “One more question and then I’m out—do you think a man is obligated to be patient and teach a woman who’s horrible in bed how to please him?”

This time my pussy chilled out, now that I knew he was more concerned about which woman he might be taking home with him than trying to be my bedmate for the night. Couldn’t blame him.

Exhaling, I replied, “No. Life is short. And although handsome, you’re a little too grown to be teaching a woman what to do in bed. A real woman would already know. Find someone else to give your heart to, or whatever it is you’re giving; there’s plenty of lonely women looking for a good dick to sex properly.” I could’ve penciled myself in as number one.

He smiled at me like I’d never been smiled at before. “Easier said than done—unless you happen to know a lonely woman that fits the description?”

I started grinning again. This man had better leave me the hell alone, or he’s going to pay dearly for all my pain and suffering.

I knew what my problems were—I was beautiful, wealthy, and too damn polite. My throbbing pussy easily fell in love with a good dick and then, by default, I fell in with the man attached to the dick. After every breakup, I hated men but loved sex. I especially disliked the guys that used me, then threw me away like recyclable trash.

Handsome raised his finger in the air. “Waitress, give this lady whatever she’s drinking on me before she misses last call.” His eye winked at her. His dimple smiled at me. There was that sexy-ass smile again.

Let him lick your pussy and make you feel better, if only for a moment. Then I’d risk falling in love with him…but at least you’ll temporarily forget about your pain.

I wanted him to stay; he needed to leave. Was he just not interested, or was it another woman? Deep down inside I wanted him to stay; no, I didn’t want to be the one who asked him, I wanted him to ask me to go home with him. But he didn’t.

“A dirty Grey Goose ’tini,” I said to the waitress. She stood staring at Handsome as he handed her a twenty-dollar bill, like she wanted to get dirty with him right there in front of my face. Slut! You’re the reason why men treat us like sex objects.

“Keep the change.” He eyed her ass as she walked away. He continued, “I’d love to talk to you some more, but I really have to go. Here’s my card. My cell number’s on the back…just in case you wanna get together some time.” He placed it on the table in front of me and turned his body away, leaving me to chase behind him.

As I glanced down at the Department of Justice logo, my eyes froze. I didn’t want him to see my dejected expression. “Thanks, Jay,” I said, giving no indication I’d contact him later. “Have a nice night.”

Before the waitress returned with my drink, I tore Jay’s card in half, placed it on the table, and then started to walk away. Halfway to the door, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Crossing one foot over the other, I pivoted slowly.

“Excuse me, miss.” The waitress stood in front of me, my drink resting on her tray. “Here’s your dirty ’tini.”

I removed the drink. “Thanks,” I said faintly.

The waitress looked around. “So where’s the cutie? I know you didn’t let him get away.” She seemed a little bit too happy to be sincere.

I didn’t bother responding. Returning to the table, I leaned on the stool, sipped my martini, and ate two of the three olives. Swallowing the third olive almost whole, I noticed a woman drooling in Jay’s face as she fingered his curly, thick hair, kissed his juicy lips, and then strolled toward the door.

Yeah, she definitely had “free pussy” swaggering in her hips for him, and by the way he nodded while staring at her ass, he was definitely fucking her tonight. It should have been me. Her pussy wasn’t better than mine, so why should she have all the fun?

Oh, now you want to get mad. If you weren’t so damn passive, he could’ve been yours.

Since I hadn’t given Jay the option of calling me, I tossed back the remaining Grey Goose, picked up the torn card, and placed it inside my purse. “You may have him tonight, bitch, but tomorrow he’s all mine.”