Melinda or whatever the hell her name was sat back down on the bed and started rubbing the shaft of Dvontè’s dick. It easily hardened, but not becau
se he thought she was special. It was just habit. “I want some more,” she said, lowering her mouth to the head of his dick.
“Just get dressed, please. I’ll drop you off wherever you want to go,” Dvontè said, pushing her head away. “I’m done with your ass.”
Janessa was looking better and better to him every day. Maybe it was time for him to make a commitment to one woman, although he dreaded the mere thought. Yet and still, after he got rid of the tramp in his bedroom, he planned to call Janessa up and ask if he could go over to her folk’s crib for Christmas dinner.
CHAPTER 17
new year’s eve
“this party is the bomb!” Janessa squealed, shaking her ass to the music at the Zanzibar on the southwest waterfront.
“Damn sure is!” Tempest agreed, admiring the decor. The place was jam-packed for the New Year’s Eve party. “I’m glad Geren and I came. We were about to back out.”
Janessa gave Tempest a love slap on the arm. “Gurl, if you’d pulled a no-show, I would’ve given you a serious beatdown.”
“What’s the big deal?” Tempest asked snidely. “Dvontè’s here with you.”
Janessa smacked her lips. “Yeah, but only because he knew you two were coming.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve. Where else would Dvontè be, if not with you?”
Tempest started running possible realistic answers through her mind, all of them unpleasant. Since the day she’d confronted Janessa in her apartment about Dvontè, she’d refrained from asking anything else, but things obviously weren’t all peaches and cream.
“Oh, he would’ve still been with me,” Janessa stated, trying to save face even though doubts lingered heavily in her mind. “He probably would be at his place getting his eat on instead of hanging at this party.” Tempest didn’t seem impressed, so Janessa added, “I plan to ration his ass a pint of punanny juice later tonight, though.”
“Dang!” Tempest shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like homie hangs downtown twenty-five/eight.”
“Sumptin’ like that,” Janessa boasted with pride. “Eating my pussy is definitely Dvontè’s favorite extracurricular activity.”
Tempest tried to visualize Janessa sitting somewhere with her legs spread eagle and Dvontè’s head buried between them for hours on end. The mere thought of it made her stomach turn. “Shame on it all!” she hissed. “That shit can’t be healthy.” She searched the club for Geren, spotting him standing beside Dvontè at the bar. After waiting in line for more than ten minutes, they’d finally gotten around to ordering drinks.
“Shame on you if you’re not sitting on Geren’s face every chance you get!” Janessa snapped back at her.
Tempest was about to take the topic on full force when a sistah with bleached blond hair brushed past her, hit her in the shoulder blade, and almost knocked her down.
Before Tempest could ram a foot up her rude ass in return, she was halfway across the room with two other bleached blond, weave-wearing, fake-contact-sporting hoochies trailing behind her. Only one word came to mind when she looked at them in clothes that were too damn tight: Skank!
Janessa was eyeing them, too. Both Tempest and Janessa’s mouths gaped open when the head hoochie walked up to Dvontè, grabbed him around the neck, and tried to tongue the shit out of him. He quickly pushed her away, but not before he saw the expression on Janessa’s face and realized he was busted.
“What the fuck is up with that?” Janessa screamed at Tempest.
“Don’t look at me,” Tempest replied, shrugging her shoulders and holding her palms face up. “I don’t know the Lil’ Kim triplets.”
Janessa stormed off. “I’ll be right back!”
Tempest debated about going after Janessa, but noticed Geren was already making his way over to her. Apparently, he didn’t want any part of the scene that was inevitably about to go down. He was empty-handed, having left their drinks on the bar beside Dvontè. He slipped his arms around Tempest’s waist and whispered in her ear, “May I have this dance?”
Tempest loved the slow jam pumping from the speakers but didn’t feel like dancing. “Who are those women?” she demanded to know.
Geren tried to play dumb. “What women?”
Tempest pointed over to the bar. “The ones crowded around Dvontè.”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Geren replied sarcastically. “I’m here with you tonight, not with Dvontè.”
“He’s cheating on her, isn’t he?”