Page 2
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Nobody can…
Janelle
I should’ve never fucked that man.
But I was horny, alone, and he- he was fine as hell.
The whole ride home from the club, I sat with my thighs tight, tryna ignore the mess he left between ‘em. My heart was pounding like I’d just ran twenty miles.
I kept telling myself it was a one-time thing. A mistake. A wild, nasty, outta-pocket ass mistake I could tuck in the back of my mind like it never happened.
Except it did.
And Fontaine—sexy, dominate ass wasn’t the type of man you’d just forget.
He the type to that make you press ya legs together just thinkin’ about the way he looked at you. Big. Tall. Drippin’ in all black designer, that gold cuban link swingin’ from his chest.
And that voice? Lawd. Deep, smooth like silk, with a hood twang to it.
A voice that made you do shit, nasty shit.
I told myself I’d block him from my mind. Delete that night. Be faithful again. Be a wife, even if he wasn’t being a husband.
And it worked till I saw him again.
It was a week later. Bright-ass day, sun out, not a cloud in sight. Me and my husband, Terrell, were havin’ lunch at this upscale little restaurant off La Brea. Real chic, white expensive tablecloths, jazz music playin’ low in the background. I wore a silk blouse, nude heels, fresh press with curls bouncin’. I was bein’ good. Back on my shit, I think.
Then I felt it. That chill up my spine.
Like somebody was watchin’ me. Burning a big ass hole in my soul.
I glanced up—and there he was.
Fontaine.
Sittin’ at a corner table like a damn stalker. Dressed in a black tailored suit, golden rolex on his wrist, and an unlit blunt between his fingers. My eyes locked with his for a split second. He smirked, but when I blinked?
Gone.
Like a motherfuckin’ ghost. Just like that.
I shook my head, confused. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was my guilt trippin’. Terell was talkin’ about his work trip and I was noddin’ along, tryin’ to steady my breath. Then I turned my head—and froze.
Right in front of my face.
Fontaine. At our table.
He was standing beside my seated husband. Laughin’. Dapping him up they been boys for foreva. My heart dropped to my stomach. Terrell ain’t know shit, just kept chopping it up with Fontaine, who stared at me with a slow, deliberate smile.
“A-and this is my wife, Janelle.” Terrell said, smiling.
Fontaine placed his hand out for me to shake, “Fontaine.”
I hesitated, clearing my nervous throat. “Janelle.”
I mumbled some excuse about using the bathroom and dipped to the bathroom.
As soon as I hit the mirror, I grabbed the counter. Breathed deep. I looked good—too good to be this rattled. But my hands was shakin’. My thighs were clenching. And worst of all? My pussy was throbbing.
What the fuck was wrong with me? Maybe it was the way he undressed me with his eyes, or maybe it was the way he completely acted as if he didn’t just fuck me a week ago.
I turned on the water. Tried to ground myself.
Then I felt it.
Someone behind me. A presence. Thick and intense as hell.
Before I could even open my mouth, a big hand wrapped around it, pullin’ me back. My eyes blew wide as my body slammed against a firm chest, cologne and blunt smoke flooding my nose.
“I missed you,” Fontaine whispered, his lips brushing my ear.
We locked eyes in the mirror. That look on his face was so damn sexy, like he meant business. And I was more than ready for whatever business he was about to throw my way.
I struggled, but not really. Not enough.
A part of me wanted this, another part was afraid of someone walking in and seeing us.
His free hand slid down. My legs trembled.
I moaned. “Did you miss me, baby?”
His hand disappeared beneath my skirt, and two thick fingers pushed right inside me like this was his pussy to touch, to feel, to miss.
I was a moaning mess, eyes rolling back ‘n all. “Mmm,” He growled when I whimpered. “You sound so fucking pretty. Don’t you think you sound pretty, baby?”
I moaned behind his hand. Loud.
He started movin’ them fingers slow, curlin’ ‘em just right. The way he talked to me was just filthy.
“Does your husband make you feel this way, hmm?” He asked, voice deep and dark like thunder. “Does she soak for him like she does for me?” His fingers curled again and my knees almost buckled. “You ever squirt for him like you did for me?”
His fingers sped up inside of me.
I shook my head, eyes damn near rollin’ all the way back.
“No, no?” He taunted, his hand went to my throat.
“Fu-fuck oh myyy…” my moans dragging out.
“Be a good girl,” he whispered. “Squirt for me. Soak my fuckin’ hand.”
And just like that, I snapped. Legs quiverin’, body twitchin’, I came on his fingers with a gasp that echoed the bathroom.
He pulled them out, slick and glistenin’.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded.
I obeyed.
He slid his fingers past my lips, watchin’ me suck myself off his fingers.
“That’s my girl.” He slid his hand down to pat my pussy. While planting kisses on my neck.
His eyes locked on mine, staring at eachother in the mirror.
Then he pulled away, I stood there breathless. “Have a good rest of your lunch, tell uh’ Terrell have a good lunch as well.”
Then—just like fucking that—gone. Again. Sucking his fingers as he disappeared into the restaurant.
Door opened. Closed. Silence.
I stood there, shaking panties ruined, lipstick smeared. I cleaned up best I could, tried to reapply but gloss, but my whole body was vibratin’.
When I walked back out, Fontaine was gone.
Terrell looked up from his plate. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I said, smilin’ like my pussy wasn’t as wet as could be right now. “Just…women stuff.”
That was just the start of it.
The next day, flowers showed up at my door. Black rosses, wrapped in satin, no card. Just a gold F on the ribbon. My heart skipped. I ain’t say nothin’ Hid ‘em before Terrell came home.
The day after that? Another bouquet. How did this motherfucka’ even know where I lived, I had so many questions.
Then perfume. The same scent I wore the night we fucked.
I tried to act normal. Tried to stay calm. But my body betrayed me every time I thought about him. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. All I could do was dream about the two times he’d touched me.
Terrell noticed. ‘You alright, baby? You been actin’ different.”
I smiled. “Just tired. y’know with work ‘n all.”
He believed it. But me?
I knew the truth.
Damn that man.