The sparkle in my eyes shot toward his. After Benito’s last game he reassured me he wanted to stop running women and settle down. I thought the real deal was he’d spent the majority of his money on maintaining a player’s lifestyle and he was looking to freeload off me. When we first met, Benito owned a big house, fancy cars, and dated lots of women, but I wasn’t sure how much money he had. I was still unsure how broke was broke, but he claimed he had his house up for sale and the cars in his garage were bought by one of his former teammates but he didn’t sleep around anymore. I was his one and only woman.
B’s dick slammed into my pussy so hard the penetration hurt, but that shit felt so good I wanted to cum so bad and he sensed it. Every time my body tensed, B quickly pulled back instead of thrusting like I wanted him to.
“Fuck you, B. Just fuck me deeper!” I yelled, ready to cum all over his dick. My mouth gaped open. I tried to inhale and gulped the air.
Careful not to let his fingernails touch me, B covered my lips and said, “Not yet, Lace. Relax. I know what you want. But I also know what you need. Trust me. Give me a few more minutes of pleasure before Daddy busts this big-ass nut inside you, baby.”
Heat consumed my entire body as I tried to focus my energy outward. But I didn’t want to lose my momentum. Plus, I had to get ready for work. Shit, I was at the edge of cuming and determined to have a vaginal orgasm instead of a clitoral one. Those clitoral orgasms zapped my energy. But the vaginal orgasm I eagerly awaited to release would boost my energy level so high I’d cum hours after Benito was done.
B swung his thick dick side to side, sticking to the bottom of my pussy with his head a few seconds each time. Instinctively when that next stroke hit, aw, shit! my legs clamped around B’s waist, pulling him in closer. Arching my back this time, I pressed my breasts into his chest, burying my face against his sweaty neck and shoulders.
“Ow! Yes! B! Yes! Damn it, baby, I’m coming!” My legs trembled. My juices flowed in waves onto his thick muscular dick for a good sixty seconds. “Deeper, B. Cum with me, baby,” I whispered, then screamed louder than before when a second orgasm hit harder than the first. I rotated my hips on his dick until I couldn’t cum anymore.
B smiled, arching his back. “Whew, your ass is so good. I love you. But you know you cheated, Lace. You came too soon.”
“You’d better quit fucking with me.”
“Not this shit again, Lace,” Benito said, grabbing my waist. “I’m not finished pleasing you. Come back here, woman.”
“Fucking around with you, I’ma have to rush like hell.”
“Tell Valentino I was puttin’ it down. You can be late one time. For me. Can’t cha?”
“No, I can’t.” I never wanted to find out what Valentino meant when he’d said, “Not nine-oh-one.”
Sympathizing with B’s desire to continue pleasing me, I said, “Aw, baby. Mama’ll make it up to you when she gets back. Promise.”
“But you won’t be back for six hours. What am I supposed to do?”
Jack off! I don’t care! “Get a job so you’re not sitting around the house all day and night. Besides, you know what’s going down this weekend. I may be three hours late.”
“Three hours late!”
“Just like you, I was accustomed to a certain lifestyle before we met and I still am. Business before pleasure. Besides, somebody’s gotta pay the bills,” I said, tiptoeing to my bathroom. Closing the door, and then pressing the lock, I turned on the shower and waited for the steam to emerge. Before stepping inside the fog, I glanced over at my large white porcelain tub, wishing I had time to soak in some hot bubbly water.
Unexpectedly my thoughts shifted. I whispered, “What makes women cold-hearted toward men?”
Lathering my white exfoliating gloves, I wondered what could make a man so angry that he’d walk into a woman’s job, a woman he once made love to, and hate her so much that he’d douse her with gasoline, strike a match, set her ablaze, then walk away like nothing happened. I was so pissed when I read that article on abuse in Essence magazine. Those women in Prince George’s County living in big ol’ beautiful mansions driving expensive cars had the same problems as me, a little girl who’d grown up way too fast in Flagstaff, Arizona.
One thing Sunny had taught me was that the stronger women had to protect weaker women from abusive men.
“Fuck!” A needlelike jolt darted through my breast. “What the hell was that?”
“You okay in there?” Benito asked, jiggling the doorknob.
“I’m fine. Too much hot water,” I lied, stepping out of the shower, massaging my back.
I was glad I had B. The way he swaggered when he walked. Dragged certain words when he spoke like, “I love you, Lace.” How he laughed deeply from his stomach each time I said something funny. And the way B grabbed my booty when I shook it in his face. No man’s stroke of my silky hair was softer. I adored how Benito’s muscles bulged when he voluntarily took out the trash. How his thigh muscles hardened when he picked me up. I liked the simple things about our relationship maybe because I’d never had a real relationship.
Rinsing my body, I lathered again, careful not to scrub too hard.
Benito was a charming motherfucka. Most athletes were. But eventually the charm wears off, the lies unfold, and a woman has to either be honest with herself or her whole life becomes one big lie. But I wasn’t waiting in vain. Benito wasn’t like that. He was honest with me all the time. B wasn’t perfect but he was my perfect man.
Tearing a piece of floss, I glided the string between my teeth. Once I stopped wasting my time waiting for Benito to fuck up, our relationship grew stronger. The less I cared, the more he loved me.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I wrapped my body in an oversized towel, thankful I now lived a life better than most of the men I’d serviced. Watching Benito sprawled across my bed was divine. For once, a real man was in my bed. It was hard not to love B. But that was how dumb shit happened. Whenever I forgot, believing everything was right, shit happened. Usually to me.
I watched Benito with his thighs spread stroking his dick. Why did he do that shit every time he knew I had to go to work? His broke ass needed to earn his keep.
I smiled, then said, “I love you, B.”
All six feet four inches, two hundred and twenty pounds with muscular quarterback thighs. Full succulent chocolate lips. Nice teeth that were slightly uneven but perfect to me. Although his NFL career was over, Benito still hadn’t decided what he wanted to do. Open a nightclub or utilize his communication’s degree and become a sports commentator.
Over the past twelve months, I watched Benito’s sexy waistline grow from a solid thirty-two inches to a softer thirty-six. But he was still the most handsome sight I’d seen. His attentiveness and confidence held me by his side. The strangest thing about our communication or lack thereof was neither of us ever discussed our family.
“You know what your problem is.” Benito paused, then said, “You work too damn much, Lace.”
“Hardly enough,” I replied, fastening my red garter strap to my sheer stockings, then glanced at the crystal chime clock Benito had given me on our second date. Five minutes.
“When are you going to slow down and give our relationship a real chance? You’re not getting any younger, you know, and I want a son. I want us to start a family.”
“Get real. What you really want isn’t a son. You want a reason for me to gain weight, quit my job, and become your precious trophy wife. And that’s what’s not going to happen. I’m not ruining my perfect figure for you to marry, then divorce me like you did your ex-wife after she got fat from having the daughter you never take care of or talk to. You know how I feel about you. You’re