The Other Side of the Pillow

“You’d better not bust too quick or that’s your ass!”

“You talk more shit than—”

Anthony couldn’t even get the remainder of his sentence out because I started grinding and pounding harder on his dick at the same time while I dug my nails into his chest. I caught my rhythm and he completely lost it then.

“I talk shit because I can back my shit up,” I said, starting to lose my senses as well as I tightened my pussy around his dick and squeezed.

People always ask what the benefit of dildos is over vibrators. It is not about the fact that vibrators work on batteries and do most of the work. It is about the fact that dildos are more lifelike, and make the people using them learn how to do most of the work. Most chicks never figure that shit out and that’s why they lie there and wait for the men to bang them out instead of truly knowing how to blow some minds.

I tightened up on Anthony’s dick even more. “Yeah, boy, this is how a pro rides a damn dick. You like that? You feeling me?”

Anthony couldn’t even speak at that point. I could feel his body convulsing and knew the bastard was about to come too damn fast. I hopped off his dick and sat beside him on the bed. He looked to the side and glared at me, then down at his dick. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You’re not pulling that three-minute shit with me. I’m waiting for you to calm down a bit and then I might let you have some more of Abigail’s brown pudding.”

Anthony sighed and started playing with his dick. “Jemistry, you’re a cold piece of work. How you gonna stop fucking me right before I nut? And it wasn’t no three damn minutes either.”

It really wasn’t even about Anthony and his sexual skills. For some ridiculous reason, I was sitting there, naked and covered with his sweat, feeling guilty over the fact that Tevin probably was in an operating room at the moment, saving someone’s life, while I was continuing to fuck mine up by screwing a man that I didn’t even want to have a decent conversation with.

“Jemistry?” Anthony was getting angry. “Jemistry, are you for real?”

He was right. I was being shiesty, shitty, and straight-up stank.

I climbed over him, stacked two of his pillows, and laid over them, positioning my ass up in the air. “Come get this.”

Anthony didn’t hesitate as he grabbed the sides of my hips, maneuvered his dick into me, and went about his business.

It was crazy. I had it all figured out. I was going to be a stone-faced, heartless, bitter woman for the rest of my life, fuck a couple of men when I felt like it, who could be trusted not to be throwing their dicks all over the city every night, and concentrate on my career. Now Tevin had entered my world and was about to throw a monkey wrench into all of my plans.

Anthony grabbed my ass cheeks and started slapping the right one. He was saying some dirty shit, but I drowned it all out. All I could see was Tevin’s face, remember his words from the night before and earlier that day, and wonder to myself, Could he be for real?

Chapter Six

“A man is already halfway in love with any woman who listens to him.”

—Brendan Francis

When I arrived at Oceanaire, Tevin was already waiting for me in a booth. My pussy had served as a sleeping pill for Anthony so I left him knocked out on the bed. After I took a shower and redressed, I laid two twenties on his pillow as a joke. It would piss him off when he woke up, but I truly didn’t appreciate how he had come at me, trying to change the rules in the middle of a “situationship” that we had both agreed on. I had been coining my connections with men as “situationships” for quite some time. They definitely would not classify as relationships, in the old-fashioned sense.

Tevin stood as I approached. He was so fine that I felt weak in the knees. He had on a navy pinstriped suit with a white shirt and red tie. “Hey, Jemistry. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for the invite.” I gave him a soft hug—his cologne aroused me—and then sat down in the booth.

“I noticed that you are a martini fan, but I thought you might enjoy some wine this evening.” He sat back down and placed his napkin across his lap. “I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Cakebread.”

I grinned and put my napkin on my lap. “Not sure what that is but it sounds interesting. Is it wine that tastes like cake?”

“You’re a funny woman.” He took my hand and my first instinct was to pull it away, but that would have been rude. Holding hands was romantic; I had been avoiding romance like the Bubonic plague. “Cakebread is a Cabernet Sauvignon from the Napa Valley.”

“That didn’t make it much better. I don’t know what a Cabernet Sauvignon is either.”

We both laughed.

“You look beautiful today.”

Damn, he’s saying too many of the right things!

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”