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Sunday, 10 May 2020


Amidst the Corona virus pandemic we have seen yet another incident. This farmer said he went to his farm to harvest his yams which he planted long ago. While he was busy doing that, he ended up harvesting a yam that looks like a human being. Some said the human seems to be making a call. Quite funny and worth wondering for.

Some researchers are saying this incident seemed to have also occurred in certain places as well.
Further more, he posted it on social media because of it's hugeness and strangeness to hear people's opinion about the yam he harvested. To also find out if any one has come across such yam before.
The image of the yam looks like a human either holding up a phone call or folding both hands. Look at the picture below again:-

The farmer stated further that so many buyers have been rejecting the yam maybe due to its incredible shape. He also said he had to reduce the price drastically but still no one attempted to buy. Then finally, he placed the yam for a giveaway and still no one has been able to pick it up.
Do you have anything to say about this yam?Your candid opinions would be appreciated.
Please Comment and also share!

Friday, 8 May 2020


Chapter 1
It never fucking failed. The minute I opened my beer and sat down — finally — at one in the morning, after an entirely too long day, the doorbell rang. I glanced into the hallway but didn’t bother getting up. Instead, I picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Maybe whoever it was would go away if I ignored them.
Nope. No such luck.
Another ring, this time, two in quick succession.

“I’m coming. Hold your horses, man.” Who could it be at this time of night anyway? When I reached the door, I looked out the side window to find a patrol car parked along the curb. Lights weren’t flashing though, which meant it was probably Mack.
I sighed. This was getting old.
I opened the door to find Lisa, my twenty-year-old stepsister, struggling to free herself of my friend Mack’s hold. He had her cuffed, though, so not sure what she thought she’d do when he let go of her.
“Hey, Mack, good to see you”—I made a show of checking my watch, more for Lisa than for Mack—“at one in the morning.”
“Jace.” Mack nodded. I knew our wealth intimidated him, but he could be such a prick. I’d known him throughout high school. We’d been in the same graduating class but on wholly different social spectrums. I’d been one of those kids everyone liked—students and teachers alike. Captain of the football team who could manage to score straight A’s with minimal study. It pissed people like Mack off. He’d had to work a hell of a lot harder and, for some reason, he always held it against me that he lived in a trailer park while I’d grown up in a mansion. I was never mean to the kid — told a bully to back off once — but all it got me was more resentment. And, now, he was a cop in our little town. Throwing all hundred and fifty pounds around whenever he could.
Good news was, he had a crush on Lisa, who could always manage to find herself some trouble. Given my father’s high-profile government job, that wasn’t a good thing.

“What did she do this time?” I asked, meeting Lisa’s glare as I did.
“She got picked up on a bust. Pot, nothing major, but it’s her third time.” He gave her a chastising look, at which Lisa rolled her eyes.
“Christ, Lees.” I shook my head. “Where the hell is your head?”
“Screw you, Jace. What are you, my dad?”
The palm of my hand itched to smack her ass as our eyes locked in battle.
“I got to her before they could make the arrest,” Mack said.
Translation: I did you another favor.
“But this could cost me, man.”
I expect a favor back.
I only stood there staring at him like I didn’t follow. It always made him fucking nervous.
“If I got caught, I mean,” he stammered, exactly like he used to in high school.
I patted his arm. I could give him that. “You shouldn’t have done it, Mack. Maybe it would have taught her a lesson to be booked along with her criminal friends.” That last part was directed at my stepsister.
“It was pot. I’m not some fucking criminal!”
We both ignored her and Mack shrugged his shoulder. “Thought it might cause some trouble for your dad,” he said, oh so kindly.
I didn’t have to say a word because Lisa shoved at him with her elbow then. He turned to her, the crush he’d had on her since high school still apparent in the way he looked at her now. Lisa, however, ungrateful spoiled brat she was, just gave him her signature “when hell freezes over” look.
“I’ll get her out of the cuffs,” Mack said.
“Good idea.” As much as I thought Lisa needed to learn the lesson a public arrest could teach, I also knew how bad that would be for my dad. He was up for re-election this term, and vultures waited around every corner for a story like this one to break him. The damage to him would not be worth the lesson she might not even learn.
But then another idea did shine its light on me, one I’d jacked off to often in the last couple of years.
Mack un-cuffed Lisa and handed her over. I took her by the arm. “Say thank you to Mack for his kindness, Lisa.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lisa asked, looking from my face to where I held her arm, and back.
“I’m trying to make a decent human being out of you. Now, say thank you so we can let Mack get back to work. He has an important job.”
Her eyebrows went up and I almost busted a gut laughing with her right there. But it had been a long time since Lisa and I had shared a smile, much less a full out laugh. Instead, she turned an expressionless face to Mack and smiled the most bogus smile she could. “Thank you, officer,” she said, her voice sickly sweet.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “I’ll take it from here, Mack.”
“Have a good night.”
“You know, I think I will. Thanks.” I dragged step-sis inside and closed the door.
“Okay, big brother, you can let go of me now,” she mocked.
I was pretty sure if you looked up spoiled brat in the urban dictionary, you’d find Lisa’s picture right beside the definition. You’d also find it alongside words like selfish, callous, and cold. And she’d been so sweet when I’d first met her. I guess a lot could change in five years. Well, it was high time she learned that lesson. Hell, it was beyond overdue.
“Sure thing, sis.”
She huffed, her eyes on mine, searching for something. The last few times she’d been picked up, I’d given her a talking-to, then, after much begging on her end, agreed not to tell her mother or my father. But, clearly, I’d been going about this the wrong way because it’s not like it worked. Not like she’d never done it again. And now she stood there, staring at me, looking a little confused for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and walking toward the staircase.
“I’ll let Mom and Dad know about this little incident when they get home. Let them handle this. I’m sure it’s what they want to deal with after a night on the town. Guessing car privileges are first to go, right? Wasn’t that what it was? Oh, but wait, with the pot….” I made a face as if thinking hard, but in reality, this was too damn easy. “I think that may impact allowance.”
For a moment, albeit the briefest of moments, she looked almost innocent. Or scared. Probably the latter. I’d known Lisa for five years now. She’d been fifteen when my dad and her mom had introduced us, saying they were getting married. I’d been three years older and had a clue what was going on. My dad had been open about dating, and he and my mom had been divorced for years. Lisa, on the other hand, hadn’t had a single clue. Her mom had apparently told her a few minutes before introducing her to me and my dad, and I still remember the look on her face, how white she’d gone, how quiet. I remembered talking to her that night, and every night over the next few months. We’d gotten pretty close, but then, something had changed and that Lisa had disappeared, to be replaced by this one, this cold, calculating bitch who now stood glaring.
She came back toward me, stumbling once on her way. Her gaze scanned me from head to toe. “What do you want, Jace?”

“What do you mean?” I asked in my sweetest voice.
“You always want something.”
Well, that was true. But I was only human, and, in this case, what I wanted was for her as much as for me. Okay, maybe at the start, and perhaps during the execution of the plan forming in my head, it could be perceived as being more for me than for her, but ultimately, she’d reap the benefits, too. Although it would probably take her a while to see it that way.
“What is it, money?”
I gestured around me. This was my dad’s house. The money she was offering me came from him. I shook my head. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”
“Then, what? What do you want to keep this little incident between us?”
“Like the last two times I kept your secret, you mean?”
She folded her arms across her chest and continued to glare then nodded once. It was a jolty, short sort of nod. I had her, and she knew it. It made my smile widen.
“You know what I want?” I walked toward her and put my hands on her shoulders, squeezing. Oh, but how my palm itched to bend her over, bare that spoiled little ass and spank it, taking her down a notch. But it wasn’t time for that. Not yet. “Believe it or not, I want you to be a better person, Lisa. We are family, now, after all. And, quite frankly, your acting this way is hurting our family, but, most especially, it’s hurting you.” It was all true. I did want her to be better, to get over whatever was going on in her head or talk to me about it like she used to, and just be herself again. Be the girl she’d been when I’d first met her, not this person whom I didn’t like very much. But she’d cut me off a couple of years ago, and I had no idea of the reason for it. Well, okay, I may have had some idea. There had been one night when we’d been talking. She’d always come to my room and we’d lie in my bed and talk. Those nights were nice. I liked being with her. But then she’d kissed me.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t wanted the kiss, but I was three years older than her, technically an adult. She’d been fifteen, jailbait. And — and this was the biggest and — she was my stepsister. Yes, there had been a growing attraction between us, but I was sure I could keep it cool. And I had. But my rejecting her had effectively ended any friendly relations between us. I’d tried to talk to her about it, to explain that it wasn’t her I was rejecting, but she wouldn’t talk to me, not any more than she had to. In a way, I guess I was the reason for her being like she was, at least partially, and that made me feel even more responsible to help fix it. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit more sordid, and much more interesting, thoughts crept up right alongside that responsibility.

What do you want then?”
“I want you to accept a punishment from me.”
From her expression, that took her back. “A punishment? What does that mean?”
“You’re not getting off scot-free. That’s done nothing for your attitude but worsen it. I think what you need, Lisa, is some good old-fashioned discipline. Sadly, your mother doesn’t provide it, and my father wouldn’t discipline you, not at this age. Me, though? That’s another story.” I held up my right hand and she looked at it, her expression wary. “In fact, my hand’s been itching to spank that ass of yours for some time now.”
At first, she stared, mouth hanging open, flabbergasted. It took her a minute. She flipped her long dark hair back, snorted, opened her mouth to speak some smart-ass comeback, I imagined, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“One weekend. You submit to me and I’ll shut up about this little incident.”
“One weekend? A whole weekend?”
I nodded.
She shook her head, then, as if having now heard what I’d said earlier, asked: “You want to spank me?”
“For starters.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Guess you’ll have to accept my terms to find out.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you.” As emotional as she was, I was the opposite. I was in control, calm, collected. At least, on the outside. Inside, I was doing a victory dance. It was kind of asshole-ish of me, I supposed, but there it was.
It took her a minute, again, which was funny considering Lisa’s tongue cut like a warrior’s sword on most occasions. Strange to see her without a retort. “You want to spank me?” she asked again.
“I think we’ve established that.”
“Fine, here.” She turned to the side and stuck her ass out at me. “Get your rocks off, perv.”
I laughed. “Oh no, it’ll be done on my terms. One weekend buys my silence. Complete submission to my every word, and I promise you’ll come out of it a better, more humbled, more likeable person.”
We both heard the car pull up the drive. Our parents were home.
I grinned.
She panicked.
“Jace, you’re being ridiculous.”
I shrugged my shoulders, picked up the beer I’d set down, and headed back in the direction of the living room to watch my show. “It’s up to you of course. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
My stepmom giggled outside.

I turned back to her, eyebrows raised.
“One weekend?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Which weekend?”
“This one. No sense in putting it off.”
“But tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day!”
“And you have plans?” She’d broken up with her latest in a string of guys not two days ago.
She shook her head no, but, if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.
“Glad that’s settled.”
“So that’s it. You’ll shut up. I only have to do what you say?”
The key turned in the lock and I waited, knowing her answer already. It was in her eyes, and it took all I had not to smile from ear to ear.
The door opened and our parents stepped inside.
“Fine. I’ll do it. But you’d better keep your promise.” She turned her face to her mom and forced herself to smile wide. Too wide. It looked awkward.
“Well, hello you two.” Lisa’s mom said, obviously surprised to see us standing here at a little after one in the morning, talking. We didn’t do that very much these days.
“Hey, Mom. How was your night?”
Lisa’s mom leaned her head against my dad’s shoulder. “Great. Really great.”
Lisa rolled her eyes and I kind of had to agree with her on that one. I mean, I was glad they’d found each other, but the gushing? It had to stop.
“Everything okay here?” my dad asked, always quick on the uptake.
“Sure is, Dad. Lisa and I were talking about spending the weekend at the beach house talking through some stuff,” I said, stepping close to Lisa and wrapping my arm around her shoulders to give her a hard hug that almost lifted her off her feet. “Isn’t that right, sis.”
“Sure is.” She tried to back away, and I knew why. She stank of pot. It was in her hair and clung to her clothes. Mom and Dad would smell it on her.
“We’ll leave around 8:00 a.m. Get there nice and early. What do you say?”
“Sounds good, but I’d better get to bed then,” she said, looking at her wrist as if checking the time even though she wore no watch. I almost laughed. This was going to be a fun weekend for me.
“Glad to hear it, guys.” Our parents walked toward the kitchen, and I smiled at Lisa.
“You don’t need to pack. I’ll take care of everything,” I told her.
She swallowed, looking up at me. At five foot five she came to about the middle of my chest and I made no motion to step away. I liked her a little nervous. It was a good start to things.
“Eight a.m. sharp, Lees. See you then,” I said, slapping her ass hard once, laughing at the look on her face when she grabbed the spot. There was more where that came from. She’d find that out soon enough.
Drinking my beer, I made my way back to the living room, resuming my spot on the couch, feeling good. Real good.

To be continued...

Sunday, 3 May 2020





HOW TO PREPARE COCONUT RICE BY: Alvin Ogbonna a.ka. Al Frezco

Phone: 09070985881

- Rice
-Fresh Pepper
- Chicken
-Spring Onion
- Carrot

-Soy sauce (1 teaspoon)

==== Before Cooking====
- Grate or blend Coconut and squeeze out the liquid
- Chop vegetables like the spring onion, fresh Pepper and carrots.

======Method of Preparation======
1) Begin by Cutting the Chicken and boiling it with lemon juice,  curry,  Thyme and pepper with some onions
2)Once it's done take down and leave to cool with the chicken still in the broth
3) Begin parboiling the rice, once it's done, set aside....
4) then heat your ground oil and begin frying the chicken.
5) Take down once it's properly fried, reduce the oil quantity  to a small amount to fry diced onions, bulb of spring onion and pepper
6) once it's cooked add coconut water and Chicken broth at a ratio of 60:40 respectively together with the parboiled rice.... Maggi and pinch of salt
7) once it starts boiling add the greens of spring onion and carrot den reduce heat inorder for the rice to cook well.

8) from time to time check whether it's cooked and adjust to taste if necessary.

9) when water has dried and rice is well cooked serve the meal and feel free to garnish  with carrots and cucumber s along with the chicken ๐Ÿ˜‹๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿพ‍๐Ÿณ


Name: Burabari Nleera

Phone: 08166380252

Saturday, 2 May 2020


Name: Ibe Comfort Uju
Phone No: 08141516969

Saturday, 25 April 2020



The first phase of this contest is a natural photo contest, while the second phase is an online recipe contest. The prizes for each are different so, you can either participate in one or both (depending on what you want).

Participants/contestants are to partake for free. The winner of the  natural photo contest goes home with #100k while the winner of the recipe contest goes home with #100k.
Prices would be paid seperately.

Read on to learn more...


This is a contest organized for both male and female. The first phase of the contest is a natural photo contest. Participants in these contests are to send photos of themselves natural or almost natural. A low quality photo would make a contestant lose points or be even unable to participate...

The second phase of the contest is a recipe contest. Participants are to choose a unique dish they intend teaching people how to prepare. They are to submit a quality photo of the completed dish, alongside a step to step guide on how the dish would be prepared.

Before you'd be permitted to participate in the contest/voting for the photo contest; your photo has to be as natural as possible and should be of a very good quality. You only send your picture once so, do well to send the best you have.

For the recipe contest, we expect only unique dishes. If the dish you are proposing for your entry is not unique, you'll not be allowed to participate in the contest. You can only submit your recipes twice (If it was rejected the first time, you can send again). After this, you'll lose the chance to participate in the contest. Foods like rice, beans, spaghetti, noodles, egusi, ogbono, vegetable soup are prohibited. Don't try entering the contest with recipes for any of the mentioned foods or similar...

The contests would be judged seperately so, voters are to vote seperately and, one person may or may not win both contests.
Only contestant(s) with the highest votes emerge  as winner(s).


1. Follow @saydtruthblog  on IG and join our group on Facebook here

2. Send a DM to @saydtruthblog on IG with a clear photo of you looking natural or on minimal make up, alongside your full name and phone number. (This is for the photo contest).
For the recipe contest, send detailed recipe  for the dish you are choosing, (a step to guide on how the meal should be prepared and things needed to prepare it) alongside a picture of the finished dish. (Also send your full name and phone number).
You can participate in either one or both.

3. Confirmation would be sent to you about your successful registration alongside a special link designed for you.
4. You are to get people to vote for you via the link sent to you. Votes for each contest are separate not combined. So, if you're participating in both, people are to vote seperately for you in each contest.
Each voter votes for FREE! All they need to do is to click on your unique link.
One person mustn't vote more than once.


1. Your unique link would be sent to you after your successful registration.
2. Voters are to click on your unique link and write "I vote for (your name)" in the comment section.
3. Voting starts on the 3rd of May and ends on the 15th.
4. On the 16th of May, the winner (s) would be announced on this website, their account details would be collected and they'd be credited.

REMEMBER: Even if you manage to get into the voting session without following @saydtruthblog, prizes would only be given to those that are following us...


Tuesday, 21 April 2020




My meeting goes over smoothly, however, it was the longest I’ve spent with this client in the three years I’ve been working with him.  He’s looking into developing a new hotel just off The Strip in Las Vegas.  I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be an exciting opportunity, but Vegas is one of those towns that the new guy can’t just break into; he’d have to have connections.  We’ll play this one by ear, even though I’m nearly positive how it will turn out.

I’m in my office getting ready to leave for the day when the memories of earlier this morning come rushing back to me.  I pick up my phone and shoot her a quick text.

Me – I’m heading home for the day.  Come over?

Kylee – Sure.  C  U in an hour.

The instant response is a vast improvement from last night’s messages that still haven’t been answered.  I really do see a future with this girl.  She’s kind, beautiful, intelligent and witty.  Kylee truly is the complete package.  Well, except for whatever hangup she has with dating or relationships of any kind. Oh yeah, and the fact that I’ve violated her trust.  I need to find a way to fix this before I lose her.

Usually when I’m with Kylee, we end up in bed for a while and then one or the other goes home, depending on whose bed we’re in that night.  Tonight, I want to try something a little different.  We’ve already done the romantic date thing, which was wonderful, and the smile on her face while we were in that carriage still makes me happy that I was the cause of it.  I need to show her what being in an actual relationship is like, not that I’ve had many, but I’ve been in enough to know the deal.

I make a quick call home to Taylor to check in.

“Hey, what are you plans for the night?”

“There’s a party on campus.  I’m probably going to stop in and have a few drinks.  Why?”

“I’m planning something for Kylee and wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna be there,” I snap, unintentionally.

“Well, aren’t you in a pleasant mood?  Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”

“You know what I mean, don’t be like that.  I’m sorry and I’ll see you tomorrow.”  I end the call, shove the phone in my pocket and quickly make my way through the office toward the elevator, keeping my head down as to not get caught in any conversations.

I fly out of my office, knowing I have a few stops to make before I expect Kylee.  I’m home with a little more than twenty minutes to spare.  After I put an already prepared chicken parmesan into the oven, I opt for a quick shower.

I wash and dry quickly since I’m running short on time.  Looking in the mirror, I wish I would have done so before my shower, as my face could use a quick once-over with the razor.

Screw it, Kylee likes my facial hair.

I throw on a pair of loose fitting jeans and a white tee shirt, and as soon as I round the corner into the kitchen, trying to check on dinner, my doorbell rings.

My bare feet slap against the tiled floor as I make my way to welcome my visitor.  When the door opens, she takes my breath away.  Absolutely beautiful doesn’t even describe her.  Stunning’s a better word, but still not enough.

Standing on my porch is an angel.  I take her in, looking up and down her form, feeling my erection pushing tight against my jeans.  Knee high black heeled boots cover the tightest pair of jeans known to man; I’m sure they must be painted on.  She’s bundled in a white coat that stops at her midsection.  Kylee’s hair is being whipped around by the wind and small snowflakes have made their home on top of her head.

Remembering my manners, I open the door wide enough for her to enter, but narrow enough where she has to slide by me.  I wrap my arm around her waist and spin her so I can see her face.  Once she’s in the light of the foyer, I see another snowflake’s landed on her eyelash.  Putting my lips to her eye, I kiss it gently, feeling the coolness of the flake and the flutter of her lashes.  I lean down further into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume and kiss her jaw.

“You look breathtaking,” I whisper, trailing a few more kisses onto her neck.

“The bare feet are sexy as hell,” she says, suppressing a moan.

Okay, I need to take a step back, this is not where I want this night to go.  Well, it is how I want the night to end, but I want to give her another great memory and some ammo to use against her when I bring up our relationship status.

“Come in, dinner’s just about ready.  Glass of wine?”  I usher her further into the foyer, taking her jacket and hanging it on the hook.

“Yes, please, that sounds good.  What’s for dinner?” she asks, taking in the enticing smells of a home cooked meal.  “It smells Italian.”  Kylee runs her tongue across her bottom lip.

“Chicken Parm.  Wine?”  Kylee nods accepting the freshly poured glass of wine from my hand and walks into the kitchen.  Instead of sitting at one of the barstools at the breakfast bar, she hops up on the counter and takes a sip from her glass.

Her jeans have ridden down and the yellow lace of her panties is creeping its way to the surface.  I’m trying to finish preparing our dinner and not look in her direction, but fuck does she make it hard.  Every time she leans her head back to take a drink of her wine, she exposes her neck, and all I want to do is lick it from the little dip between her collar bone up to her mouth and taste her tongue coated with the sweet white zin.

Every time she shifts on the granite countertop, more and more of the lace appears, not leaving much to the imagination.  She leans forward to smell the food and the cleavage being shoved together by the matching yellow lace bra under the cream-colored fitted shirt summons me.

I almost give in and reach out to her, but I refocus my attention on the tomato I’m cutting for the salad, trying like hell to not cut my finger off.  That’s sure to put a damper on the evening.

I finally regain the strength to finish preparing our meal, set the table and bring Kylee into the formal dining room.  Thanks to Misty, my housekeeper, the tall taper candles are set up around the center of the table with a fresh vase of flowers directly in the middle.  Once Kylee’s sitting in her chair, I light the candles and take my seat at the opposite end.

“Why are you all the way down there?” Kylee asks, giggling her soft feminine laugh that hits me right in the gut.  I want to be close to her, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last without having my hands all over her.

“You’re my guest of honor, and it’s only right that you sit in that seat.”  Her face drops with my answer and everything in me screams to switch up the seating arrangement, but I don’t want to be too presumptuous.

“Just feels a little formal, that’s all.”  She cuts into her chicken with the fork and puts a small piece into her mouth. The carefree, fun Kylee is gone, replaced by a woman I’ve never met before.  Even her posture changes, no longer lounging in her chair, she’s sitting upright like there’s a stick taped to her spine and a book sitting on her head.

“Hey.  What’s wrong?”  I’m out of my chair and sitting directly next to her in the blink of an eye.  Whatever I’ve done to take away my Kylee, I want to fix it and fix it fast.

“Reminds me of home,” she mutters, not making eye contact.

I take her hand in mine, urging her to look at me.  When she makes no move to turn her head, I place my forefinger and thumb around her chin and lightly encourage her to face me.  Once our eyes meet, I can see the sadness behind her deep forest greens staring back at me.

“Ky, please tell me,” I whisper.  I don’t want to push the issue or bring up bad memories for her, but in order for me not to make this mistake again, I have to know.  With the exception of the partial barrier that exists because I’ve broken her trust, I can see the rest of the brick walls rebuilding themselves in front of me.

“It really doesn’t matter.  Let’s just go back to enjoying our dinner,” Kylee says, faking a smile and turning back to her plate.

“No, let’s talk.  What did I do?  We were fine and then we sit down to eat and everything changes.  If it’s about the seating, I can move down here or you up there.  It doesn’t matter.  I just need to know what is going on in that head of yours.”  After my plea, the sadness turns to anger when she snaps her head back in my direction.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?  This has nothing to do with you.  Please just go sit back in your chair and let’s finish eating.  I have some things to do tonight and I want to eat and spend a little time with you before I have to leave.”  Leave?  What the fuck?  We didn’t discuss our evening plans, but I didn’t expect her to eat and run.

“I’m not dropping this, Kylee.  Something is going on and you can talk to me.  You said this reminds you of home.  What does that mean?  I don’t understand.”

“Okay, you want the hardcore truth, Jacoby?  You want me to lay it bare?”  Kylee slams her fork down on the table, stands and walks to the window.  I want to go to her, comfort her, but I know she’ll just push me away … again.  Kylee’s now perched at the top her ivory tower, not letting me get anywhere near the real her.  I have to break through, I just have to.

“Yes, Kylee.  Talk to me.  Please,” I beg.

“This dinner is wonderful, but it can’t happen again.  We can’t be anything more that fuck buddies.  That means no dinners, no dates and no sleepovers—nothing more than sex.  If you can’t deal with that, I’m sorry, but we can’t do this anymore.”  It feels like a knife cuts right though my heart.  Of all the things she could’ve said, that is the one thing that I wish she would take back.

Watching her body language—crossed arms, pursed lips and a scowl written all over her face—I have to play this a certain way.  I’m going to have to remain indifferent if I’m going to have any chance of breaking back through.  I have to treat this like any other business decision – cool, calm and collected – that isn’t going my way. That’s the only way to tackle this, especially since my kind, romantic side isn’t doing anything but pushing her further away.

“Care to explain why?  I can’t cook for you, take you out in public or spend the night with you?  That seems pretty immature, wouldn’t you say, Kylee?”  It breaks my heart to talk to her like this when she’s so visibly upset, but I’m at a loss in this situation.

“Remember that little stint in your office earlier?”  Like I could forget.  “I needed to do that.  I needed to show you that’s all we can be.”

“I’m not following.  You needed to ambush me at my place of business and fuck me to prove a point?”  Kylee’s all over the place; pacing all around the dining room.  She takes her wine glass, refills it and then drinks more than half in one swallow.  Something tells me this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have a child.  This goes much further than that.

“I’m the girl you fuck when you need to get off.  I’m the one that’s a good time and you can always call to put out.  I’m the girl that you don’t forget.  More importantly, I’m the girl that isn’t sitting home waiting for you to get home from fucking whoever you’d rather fuck than me.”  Kylee slumps her body over the top of the captain chair, breathing heavily like a burden’s just been lifted.

“So I’m cheating on you?  You need to make sense of this, Kylee.  I’m so fucking lost.”  I run my hands through my hair, pulling at the base so I don’t lash out and pull hers, demanding an answer, or answers in this case.

“It’s always the same thing, Jacoby.  One man is no different from another.  It’s all about the chase and the fucking game.”  Kylee walks into the kitchen, searching all of my cabinets.  I don’t know what she’s looking for until she pulls out a bottle of gin.

“What game?” I scream, taking the bottle out of her hand.  She’s had a glass and a half of wine and I swear on everything I love, we’re having this discussion because we have to and not because she gets loose-lipped when she’s drunk.  This is happening.

“Don’t play coy, Jacoby.  There’s always a game.  You chase the girl until she gives in and then there’s nothing left but monotony.  You take her on dates, you woo her, you make her feel like she’s special and then bam she’s your girlfriend.  She leaves a toothbrush in your bathroom, hoping you notice and don’t tell her to take it back.  Then it’s clothes here and there, DVD’s and then she has the password to your computer.”  The scowl is gone.  In its place is that sarcastic “I know everything about everything” look.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”  The veins in the side of my neck are bound to burst at any time.  It’s been a very long time since I’ve been this frustrated or angry with anyone.  It’s like she’s pushing any button she can get her dainty little fingers on.  Twenty seven’s too young for a stroke, right?

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.  It goes down the same way every time.  No matter what the relationship status of a couple is, once there’s a fucking status, the game is gone and so is the fun.  After you move in together, the woman is sitting at home waiting for the man to come home smelling like cheap perfume and raunchy pussy,” Kylee yells in maybe two breaths.  She’s heated and ready to blow.

“I’m cheating on you?  Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Are you dense?  You can’t cheat on me, because we’re not a fucking couple!  You can’t hurt me, because I’m not your girlfriend.  You can’t pay me off to keep your dirty fucking secrets, because I’m not your wife.”  Paying her off?  The shock on her face is a clear indication she’s said too much.

Kylee rushes to the door, grabs her coat off the hook and starts to put it on, preparing to leave.  I’m behind her, taking it out of her hands before she has the chance to throw it over her shoulders.

“Oh no you don’t, Red.  We’re on to something now.  What the fuck do you mean paying you off?”  If she thinks she’s leaving after dropping a bomb like that, she’s sadly mistaken.

“What the fuck, it’s not like we’re going to have this conversation ever again or you’re going to meet my parents,” she says in defeat.

“When I was eighteen, I went to my father’s office to pick up a check for the winter semester tuition.  I didn’t think to knock on his door, and when I walked in, I found his secretary on her whore knees sucking him off.  He begged and pleaded for me not to tell my mom.  Said that if I didn’t, not only would he continue to pay for my full tuition and I wouldn’t have to get a job like I was supposed to, but he would give me an extra five grand a month.  All that to keep my mouth shut and keep my mom in the dark.”  Her story takes my breath away.  What kind of father does that to his daughter?  She’s got one thing right; I never want to meet the man that’s fucked with her head so badly that she can’t trust anyone.

Slowly, all the pieces come together, and I can’t blame her for not wanting to be in a relationship.  The only model she’s ever known was ruined right in front of her eyes.  I don’t know how I would feel if something like that happened to me.  I might be too hurt to try to develop my own relationships, much like Kylee.

“So, he’s paying you off still?  You haven’t told your mom and you feel guilty?  I understand, Kylee, I do.  I can’t imagine being put in that position.  I’m so sorry he’s done that to you.”  I try to pull her to me and hug her, but she pulls back with a disgusted look on her face.

“You think I didn’t tell my mom?” she scoffs, “my mother’s my best friend next to Mira.  She’d do anything for me.  What kind of person do you think I am?  Of course I told her.”  The disgust fades into something much more sinister.  I’m a little nervous, to be completely honest.  “My mom had known that my father was cheating for years.  When I went to her, she told me to act like I never told her and to keep his money, he didn’t need it.  So that, Jacoby, is why I’ll never be in a relationship.  As fucked up as my father is, my mother is just as bad.  She’s in a marriage with no love or respect, but she stays and puts up with it because of the status.  She’ll never have to worry about getting a job, paying a bill or being alone because she ignores the fact that my father fucks random secretaries at his office, but still comes home at night.  I’m never going to be that woman, so it’s best to never be in a relationship.  Less confusion.”  She reaches for her coat, but I refuse to give it to her.

I step into her personal space.  Kylee angles her head downward, to not make eye contact with me, and takes a step backward.  I follow her step.  This little game plays out until she’s hit a wall, literally, and has nowhere left to go.  I place my hand on the wall behind her and bend down so we’re at eye level.

“All men aren’t like that, Kylee.  I know you don’t believe me, but I’m asking for a chance to prove that all men aren’t like your father.  I’ve only been in three relationships and I’ve been faithful in each and every one.  My parents have been married almost forty years and neither one have stepped out on their marriage.  We’ve known each other for six months and I’ve done nothing to make you doubt me.  I’m here Kylee, let me be here.”  I place my hand over her heart and she shudders beneath my touch.

My other hand goes to her face and she leans into my touch.  I’m making progress and it feels so damn good to be going forward.  I lean into her and hover my mouth over hers.  She has to be the one to take this step; I won’t force it on her.  As she’s moving in, I’m silently thanking God that this night is going to get back on track when a loud knock on the door startles both of us.

“Shit,” I mutter, pulling back.  “Hold that thought,” I say, a grin across my mouth.  Kylee returns the smile and my heart leaps.  This night will get back on track as soon as I get rid of whoever is interrupting this moment.

Get the full story here

Monday, 20 April 2020




I wake up the next morning feeling beyond refreshed.  Spending a night drinking with your best friend is truly the best medicine.  Mira and Skylar must still be sleeping since I don’t smell any coffee brewing.

Taking the duty upon myself, I go to brew a pot, only to find one of those fancy one cup coffee makers sitting on the counter.  I remember that Danny bought it for them for Christmas.  Mira’s more a fan of tea than coffee, but she has to wake up with a cup and well, Skylar lives on coffee. 

I acclimate with the machine and take my freshly brewed cup into the living room.  Fishing my phone out of my purse, I return Jacoby’s text from last night.  I will never understand how my phone falls to the bottom of my bag even when I toss it right on top.

Me – Hey you.  WRUD today?

I cautiously sip my coffee and turn on the TV.  Usually. I avoid watching the news like the plague, but the story I turn on is something about a local MC putting together a food and coat drive.  I swear, people always have the MC community wrong.  Yeah, they can be ruthless and dangerous, but at the same time, they take care of their own and their neighbors.  Moments like this make me proud to be a part of Skylar’s extended family.

Moments later, my phone chimes with an incoming text.

Jacoby – Working for a while then IDK.  What’s up?

Me – Wanted to see if you wanted to do dinner and talk?

I remind myself to take a deep breath.  I pray that this nagging feeling in my heart will go away once I see him and have some mind blowing sex.  It’s also possible that I want to discuss exactly what he wants with this more thing he keeps talking about.  Daughter or not, I’m pretty sure I have feelings for Jacoby fucking Roberts.

Jacoby – I have a few things to do after work.  Can I come by later?

For the first time, I feel like a booty call, when it’s usually the other way around.  I feel used and unwanted, but something in me will take what I can get.

Me – IDK if I’ll be home.  I’ll swing by your place?

My brain catches up with my heart.  This is how it all starts.  Suddenly, you’re not the first priority, allowing other women to jump in and take your place because the guy in your life becomes comfortable in the relationship.  This is exactly how those skanks move in and take something you’ve worked so hard to get. 

Jacoby – That’s fine.  I should be done around 9.

Me – See you then.

Why the fuck did I just say that?  I should have said something more noncommittal.  Christ.

Now I have to find something to do for the entire day.  I’m sure Mira and Skylar will want to spend some time together, so I can’t interfere with their alone time.  I could always call Danny, but I don’t really want to hang out with Melissa.  I have a few other friends I could call, but most are out of town for the holidays, or are boring as hell.

I could go visit my parents for the day, but the thought of spending any unnecessary time with my father makes me cringe.  I probably should go home and write, but I’m not feeling my storyline today and I really don’t want to force it. 

I send Mira a quick feeler text to see if she’s awake.  After five minutes, the text is still unanswered, so she’s either sleeping or engaged in some extracurricular activities.  Brown chicken, brown cow.  I send another telling her to call me later and I’ll be around if Skylar has plans and she wants to hang out again.

I gather my stuff and head out the door.  Once I’m in my car, headed down the highway, the most brilliant idea strikes me.

I’m so scared of becoming the type of woman I despise; the one that caters to her man, never caring for herself, gets lost in a relationship and loses who she is. That’s the kind of woman that usually ends up the broken hearted one with an unfaithful husband.  I’m scared that it won’t be me that Jacoby comes home to fuck because he just got his rocks off in his office with whatever secretary is manning the desk that day.

I gun the accelerator, needing to get home as quick as possible in order to carry out my plan before I come to my senses. 

Once I walk in the door to my apartment, I hightail it to the shower.  I scrub every inch of my body, shave every necessary place and try to wash the smoke out of my hair.  Once I’m satisfied that I can’t get any cleaner without removing another layer of skin, I step out into the steam filled bathroom.

Before I go into my bedroom, I apply a lightly scented lotion that smells a lot like pears all over my body, paying special attention to the areas I anticipate that will be touched most.  Standing naked in front of the tall mirror on the back of the door, I’m satisfied with what I see; soft skin with a hint of bronze and deep green eyes with a dark chocolate rim around the irises staring back at me. 

A lot of people would say that my sexual behavior has something to do with a poor self image, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.  My behavior is rooted much deeper than the surface.

My breasts aren’t too big or too small, just the right size for me—and most men.  My belly is flat and toned, due to the high metabolism passed down to me by my mother.  My generous hips spread at just the right angle to allow enough room for my butt, which might be on the bigger side, but what’s that old saying?  More cushion for the pushin’?  Sounds about right. 

I would change nothing if given three wishes by a magic genie.  It’s all a part of what makes me me.

After an hour passes, I’m ready to go.  Every hair’s in place, my attire clearly spells out what I’m after and my makeup is impeccable.  After one last glance and a deep breath, I shrug into my knee-length black coat, and I’m out the door. 

No time for regrets.  Live life to the fullest and own your decisions.

I park outside Jacoby’s office building, get out of my car—careful not to reveal too much—and take a few confident strides to the automatic doors that open upon my approach.  I stop at the security desk just inside and give him my name and who I’m here to see.  I probably could’ve kept walking and he wouldn’t have said anything, but if this is going to work I can’t risk Jacoby being in a meeting or something.

The guard gives me a visitor’s pass that I clip to my coat and escorts me to the elevators.  I’ve been here plenty of times and have never had an escort.  I’m sure he just wants to spend as many seconds with me as possible; enough to add to his spank bank.  Leaning inside the elevator doors, he presses the button for the eleventh floor and backs away.

“Have a good day,” he mutters as the doors close slowly in his face.  I nod in response and wave my fingers.  His smile disappears and my ride begins its assent. 

Each floor that passes increases the swarm of butterflies in my stomach.  This is a totally new feeling for me.  I don’t get nervous easily and it’s usually over a test or something that can affect my future.

This will affect your future.

The light at the top of the elevator shines over the number eleven. I hear a ping and the doors open to Jacoby’s suite: Roberts Development and Planning.

I open the glass doors and step in to one of the most stunning reception areas I’ve ever seen, including the one in my father’s office.  The contemporary furniture set in a room of caramel colored walls is to my left.  A conference room encased by floor to ceiling glass has the most beautiful twenty person mahogany boardroom table directly in the center.  Straight ahead is the reception area where a beautiful exotic woman sits, welcoming all visitors.

“Good morning, ma’am.  How can I help you?” the woman behind the desk says with a genuine smile.

“Good morning.  I’m here to see Jacoby Roberts.  I assume he’s in.”  I have no idea why I’m being short with this woman who’s done nothing at all to me.  It might be because of the images of her under Jacoby’s desk blowing him like her job depends on it.  She presses a button on her phone and I hear Jacoby’s voice on the other end, muttering something or another.

“Mr. Roberts.  You have a visitor in the lobby,” she coos.  I know the sound of a woman who’s completely enamored by a man when I hear one.

“Who is it, Tiffany?”  It’s terrible that his strong, authoritative voice makes me ache for him.

Tiffany lets go of the button and eyes me, waiting for me to announce myself.

“Kylee Anderson,” I quip, like she should’ve known all along.

Tiffany rolls her eyes and goes back to the phone; the genuine smile is long gone.  “A Miss Kylee Anderson, sir.”

“Escort her back, please, Tiffany.”

She stands and walks around the end of her desk, waiting for me to join her at another set of glass doors that lead to the actual offices.  Following her through a maze of hallways and cubicles, I briefly remember the way myself, but I’d probably get lost if I tried to do this on my own.

When we get to the door that’s marked Jacoby Roberts CEO, my tour is over and she leaves me to enter on my own.  I lightly knock on the door.

“Come in,” Jacoby says, the thick door muffling his voice.

I turn the handle and push through the door to his sprawling office.  I’ve read books about spacious offices that are home to the demanding, yet sexy as hell owners of companies before.  Nothing beats seeing it firsthand.

“Kylee, what’s going on?  Is everything okay?”  I suddenly feel stupid for coming down here.  The look of worry instead of the smoldering look I was hoping for crushes my spirits.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just wanted to come see the man in his natural habitat,” I joke, hoping he doesn’t see through me and notice the scared girl hiding behind this well-manicured facade.

“Oh, okay.  You look beautiful.”  With just three words, my confidence is back and I’m ready to carry out my plan. 

Looking around his office, I gather that he’s alone.  I reach behind me with one hand and lock the door to avoid any unwanted visitors.  Okay, it’s really to avoid Tiffany thinking she’s been invited to come in and play.

“Mr. Roberts, I seem to have forgotten to process the permits you needed me to.”  I’m no actress, but I’m almost positive I’m nailing the bad secretary in any porno.

“What are you talking about, Kylee?”  Jacoby eyes me skeptically.  Apparently, he hasn’t caught on to the game I’m playing.  Time to turn it up a notch.

“Sir, please don’t fire me.  I swear I’ll make it up to you.  I’ll do anything.”  I pop the first button on my coat, exposing the black lace bra that makes my girls look like a million bucks.

“Anything, you say?  Well, I’m sure there’s something we can work out.”  Finally, he gets it.  I was a little nervous that I would have to act this entire thing out alone.

Jacoby closes the distance between us, holding my gaze with his magical honey eyes that have me under his spell.  I initiate and he quickly takes control of the situation.  Talk about man in his natural habitat.

“Miss Anderson, you do realize that without those permits being filed, I won’t make my deadline?  That’s going to cost me a lot of money.  You also realize that you’re going to have to find a way to make up for your indiscretion that will be worth it for me, correct?”  Jacoby circles me, much like a shark stalking its prey.

I’m hyperaware of his position behind me and the anticipation of what he’s going to request has my mind reeling.  His large palm caresses my backside, quickly realizing that I’m not wearing any panties underneath the coat.  Jacoby lifts the material and takes in a deep breath.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, taking a hold of my ass in his hands.  While I’m enjoying his touch, I get the feeling that he has ideas for this untainted part of my body and it’s not a good feeling whatsoever.  If he thinks for one second that he’s going to fuck me there, he’s lost his gorgeous, brilliant mind.

Before another thought has a chance to register, I feel the loss of one of his palms and then quickly it strikes my right cheek.  I start to protest, but a whimper comes out of my lips.  What the fuck?

“I have an idea how you can make this up to me,” he says, his voice full of authority and lust.  I have no idea where he’s going with this and I don’t care.  I’m game for whatever.

Jacoby walks back behind his desk and sits in his oversized chair.  The smoldering look I was searching for earlier is clearly in his eyes.  He slightly leans back in his chair, enough to unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly and release his heavy cock into his hand.  With slow strokes, he lures me closer to him, almost hypnotizing me. 

When I’m standing directly in front of him, Jacoby lets his dick go and ushers me to straddle him.  Without saying a word, I do exactly that.  His hands cradle my hips, urging me to sit and take him for a ride, but something’s stopping me.

“Condom?”  We’ve never come this close to having sex without protection, and I’m not ready for something like that.  I really hope this isn’t what he was meaning in our little game.  It’s far too intimate and I can’t guarantee he’s been faithful in whatever this relationship is.

“I’ve only been with you; I’m clean and you’re on birth control.”  He pulls at my hips again, but I still don’t budge.

“Condom,” I state, no longer a question.

He starts to say something else while pulling at my hips and I try to back away.  I’ve seen this go wrong too many times; birth control isn’t always effective, people are only clean until they aren’t and I clearly remember a very attractive blonde at his home a few months ago.  I’m not stupid nor am I going to start being stupid.

Jacoby lets out a long breath and lifts up, I assume to attempt to fuck me.  I move to smack him across the face for disregarding my health and safety, until he puts an arm behind him and pulls out his wallet.

“Condom,” he says, pulling the foil package out of his wallet.

In a matter of seconds, he’s sheathed in latex and I’m back to the point of no return.  I slowly lower myself onto his cock, relishing the feeling it shoots straight to the tips of my toes.  My back to the desk, I brace my arms on the cool wood for leverage, stroking him with my pussy.

He unbuttons the rest of the coat, baring me to him, but keeping me concealed to anyone that might have a key to enter.  The thought of anyone having a key, coming in the office to catch us, sends a trill of excitement to my core as I clench around his thickness.  I’m not sure if it’s the fantasy of an office rendezvous or that he doesn’t want me to be completely nude, but this entire scenario is beyond sexy. 

Jacoby pulls the cups of my bra down. Pushing my tits higher and firmer, he flicks his tongue at one of the taut peaks.  I lean back, my spine uncomfortable against the hardness until Jacoby snakes an arm around my midsection, cushioning me from the brutal and relentless, but oh so delicious friction, as he meets me thrust for thrust.  I take my tits in my hands, massaging the soft tissue and playing with the hardened nubs.  The deep growl coming from Jacoby’s throat turns me on even more. 

Lifting me, he sits me on the edge of the desk, still continuing his attack on my overly sensitive body, not willing to let up even while in motion.  I’m waiting for the clichรฉd wiping the papers off the surface, but it never comes.  Jacoby takes both of my hips in his hands, keeping me from shifting too much, and begins the most glorious assault I’ve ever experienced.

Every time his pelvis rubs against my clit, a shiver tingles down my spine and he pushes me higher and higher.  He pulls almost all the way out of my body before slamming back into me. My head falls back and Jacoby comes forward with a grunt that reverberates through my entire body, shattering me in his arms. 

I’m guessing my moans are pretty loud, judging by the massive hand covering my mouth to muffle my cries.  There are a few more shallow thrusts before Jacoby’s body goes rigid and his teeth clench down on my collar bone, almost sending me spiraling yet again. 

Unfortunately, his phone makes a few quick beeps and I hear Tiffany’s voice come across the intercom.

“Mr. Roberts, your eleven thirty is here.  Shall I send him back?” 

I try to pace my breathing and Jacoby’s stifling his laughter.  He takes a few moments before he responds to her request.

“I’ll meet him in the conference room in five minutes.  Thank you, Tiffany.”  He pushes a button and ends the line of open communication. 

I sit up as Jacoby pulls away from my body and disposes of the used condom inside of a tissue. 

“We almost got busted,” I laugh, unable to control it any longer.

“That would not have been good.  Can you imagine my next board meeting?”  Both of us are laughing uncontrollably, and I have to remind him he has a visitor and needs to get cleaned up. 

Luckily, there’s an attached bathroom in his office.  He does a quick job of making himself look presentable and not recently fucked.  I can’t say the same.  I try to tame my hair and fix my coat, but the flushed color that’s taken over my skin proves that everything else was done in vain. 

“I can walk you back unless you need to stay a few more minutes to calm down,” Jacoby offers, staring down my body through the opening at the top of my coat, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting out a hiss.  I need to get out of here before he misses his meeting.

“Your job is safe, Miss Anderson.  I’m even considering a promotion.”  He kisses the top of my head and makes his way out of the office.  I wait a few more minutes, deciding to just throw my hair in a quick ponytail to disguise our afternoon delight before I make my way back to the reception area.

I finally find my way, only making two wrong turns, but I make it.  As I open the first set of glass doors, I see Tiffany bent over in front of Jacoby, offering him what looks like coffee.  He doesn’t appear to be giving her any attention and I mentally slap the shit out of her and tell her to step off my man. 

Wait, my man?  Shit.

On my drive home, all I can think about is the instant pang of protectiveness over Jacoby I’d just experienced.  Maybe once I tell him why we can never be anymore than we are, he can just agree to be monogamous without those nasty titles that always bring things crashing down around you. 

At least, I hope that will be the outcome of said conversation.

To be continued...




After two conference calls and a face-to-face meeting with one of my staff members, I’m more than ready to get out of here and finish the conversation Kylee and I started this morning.  I called my housekeeper on my way in, making sure that she took the night off, but left prepared meals for me to cook during the week.  After my day, I know that I’m not going to get much time to myself this weekend. 

It really is a big deal that Kylee let me stay last night.  We’ve done the whole sleepover thing before, but something about this time seemed different.  Like we’re finally getting on the same page.  And then I go and piss her off for not telling her about Shelby.  As much as I’d like to regret my decision to wait on telling her, I can’t.  Shelby’s always going to come first, even if I’m with Kylee.

Slow your roll, buddy.  You might not be with her for too much longer.

I walk out of the office, pull my phone from my pocket as I get in the car and shoot Kylee a quick text.  Hopefully, she’s ready and I won’t have to wait too long for her to get there.  It’s taking every ounce of strength I have to not just go straight to her house, order in Chinese food and spend the night in her bed again.

Me – OMW home

Kylee – I’m in the middle of something.  I’ll call u later.

Me – okay …..

What exactly does one say to that?  The last time we spoke, she was going to come over after I left the office and now it’s a completely different story.  With Kylee, I don’t know which way’s up anymore.  I know she’s upset, but she can at least try to act like an adult.

Being with her last night made me feel like we were really turning a corner.  Every sign indicated that she was letting her walls down and letting me inside.  An amazing night quickly turned into a hellish morning and now it’s going to be a lonely night.  I’m probably going to lie in bed all night, thinking of what I could’ve done differently.  If only relationships were as easy as business transactions.

I throw my phone on the passenger seat and continue my drive home.  I really wanted to spend time with her tonight but I have more than enough work to keep me occupied until she calls me later.  The holidays and trying to figure out what’s going on with our relationship has really thrown me off course.

When I get home, I park in the garage and head straight for the kitchen.  It would appear that my housekeeper did an excellent job of preparing single-serving meals to keep me nourished throughout what I expect to be a crazy week at the office.  Taking one of the Tupperware containers from the fridge, I pop the meal directly into the microwave. 

While my food cooks, I head to my bedroom to change out of my suit.  Opting for a pair of black sweatpants and white tee shirt, I’m back to the kitchen before the timer dings.  Rummaging through the fridge, I grab a bottle of water and a Butterfinger.  Candy; it’s the one vice I have and I always have to have them cold. 

When the meal, which turns out to be grilled salmon and rice, is finished cooking, I head into my office that’s left the exact way it was two days ago; messy, yet coordinated.  I power up my laptop and get to work on the new development my company is coordinating. 

After two hours of getting what I can get done from home, there’s still so much more to do.  Thank God for assistants and interns.  I turn my attention to my phone that hasn’t made a sound since I last texted Kylee.

She said she was in the middle of something, which I assume is her book, but something in my gut tells me that’s not all it is; she’s running.  I dial her number and she doesn’t answer.  Trying not to be overzealous, I wait an acceptable fifteen minutes before I send her a text message.

Me – When do u think u’ll be done? 

I stare at my phone for what feels like hours, when in all actuality it’s only been about five minutes.  A return text never comes through.  Even when she’s not in a mood to talk, she always texts back quickly.  For Christ’s sake, the girl is attached to her phone like a dying man on a ventilator.  It’s never more than five feet from her.  Is it really so hard to text and say, “Hey, I’m alive.”?

Nothing bothers me more than having a set plan, and then deviating from said plan.  My entire night is thrown off because she’s decided that she suddenly has something to do.  I choose to let my mind think that Kylee’s wrapped up in her story and has lost track of time instead of following the gut instinct that’s led me in the right direction for my entire career.  It’s a sick kind of sixth sense thing I have. 

I make my weekly call to my mother, hoping that my phone will chime with an incoming text, and of course it doesn’t.  After I hang up with my mother, I call my sister to check in with her.  Nothing new, not that I expected there to be something exciting in her life.  She and her husband recently had a little girl, so she never has anything to talk about other than my niece and the milestones she’s accomplishing.  As interesting as it is, I really don’t care too much.  Am I supposed to know that Marissa rolling over at two months instead of three is a big deal?  No … I’m not.  I can’t blame her, though. She was the one I would call when Shelby would do something cool.  God, I’m a wreck and I’m acting like a dick.

Trying to be proactive, I check my bank balances, pay my bills for the month, send Dawn the monthly stipend I pay for Shelby—even though Dawn asked me years ago to stop paying it—and shuffle around some of my investments.  Thankfully, I can do all of this online and don’t have to wait until business hours come around to speak to a banker or broker.  I’m waiting for the confirmation number from the mortgage company when my phone starts beeping from across the room.

I jump, yes, jump—like a teenage girl—at the sound, and rush across the room to answer the call.  I don’t bother checking the caller ID.  There’s only one person I know who would call me after eight.

“Hey, I’ve missed you.”  I really do try to curb my excitement, but it’s a failed attempt.

“Well, I’ve missed you, too.  What are you doing?”  My cousin Taylor’s voice comes across the line.  Motherfucker.

“Oh, sorry.  I thought you were someone else.”  If that isn’t the worst thing I could say, I don’t know what is.

“Smooth.  Real smooth,” Taylor tries to cover the hurt behind sarcasm; it’s a Roberts’ trait.

“Sorry, what’s up?  How’s school?”  Taylor’s recently been accepted into a pre-med program.  I really am proud of my cousin.  Not too many people actually have the grades and focus to fulfill a commitment like that.

“School’s fine.  Still at the top of my class.  As if we expect anything different, right?” Taylor’s never been one for modesty.  “But I have a little bit of a problem.  Jessie and I broke up and I need a place to crash until I can get back into student housing.  Can you help me out?  It’ll only be a few weeks at the most.”

The thought of having a hormonal college kid living in my house doesn’t really appeal to me, but what can I do?  Turn my back on my family?   Never.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short twenty-seven years, it’s that family is all you really have.  While the entire world is trying to tear you down, your family should be the ones to build you back up and be an honest support system.

“Yeah, I guess you can crash.  Do you mind staying in the guest house?”

“No, dude.  That’s perfect.  I’m gonna pack up a few things and head over.  I’ll go back this week to get the rest of my stuff when Jessie isn’t home.”

“Okay, I’ll be home the rest of the night.  If for some reason I’m not home when you get here, you have the code to the garage.  Why did you and Jessie break up, anyway?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know the answer.  I never got a good feeling from Jessie anyway.

“Jessie’s a bitch, nothing more, nothing less.”  Something tells me that it is something more, but Taylor’s just not ready to talk about it yet.  If only the people in my life would talk about the issues they’re having, discuss them like adults, we could save ourselves a lot of trouble and heartache.

Before Taylor shows up, I decide to take a quick shower and get into bed.  I’m not in a mood to discuss relationships or the lack thereof. 

Once I let the warmth of the water surround me, my body is aware of its surroundings.  It’s been a few days since Kylee was last here, but I can smell the sweet scent of her body wash still lingering. 

Taking the wash cloth over my chest, I suddenly find myself wishing it were Kylee’s hands all over me.  As I lather further down, I drop the rag and take myself in my hand, relishing in the steam billowing around me, the smell of Kylee and the slick feel of the soap meeting my hardness.

Gripping at the base, using slow strokes, I imagine Kylee kneeling in front of me, ready to take me in her mouth.  She subtly licks her lips.  I press the head of my dick to her full lips, enticing her to open and she does.  She licks around my head, slowly taking in each and every inch I feed her. 

My strokes get quicker as I’m daydreaming of hitting the back of her throat. I can almost feel the excruciatingly erotic sensation of her swallowing around the head of my cock, her natural muscular reaction trying to milk the orgasm from my body. 

Closing my eyes and leaning my head against the cool tile, I see Kylee rubbing her hand down her taut stomach until she reaches her cunt.  Pushing two fingers inside her wet opening, she moans around my dick. 

My balls pull tight as my release is coming quicker than I thought it would.  I fast forward my fantasy and Kylee is lying before me, baring her pussy for my appreciation. And fuck, do I appreciate it.  As soon as I get my dick nestled within her tight walls, my orgasm rears its head, and I’m surprised how powerful it is. 

My entire body jerks as come spurts out in two or three streams onto my stomach, which is washed off by the showerhead before it has a chance to dry. 

I finish my shower and walk into my bedroom, spent and ready to sleep.  My head hits the pillow, and I’m yet again assaulted with the scent of Kylee and the memories we’ve shared in this bed.  This is the place that I lured her into letting me take her on a date, where I used her body against her to get my way and one of the places I fell in love with the redheaded beauty that’s captured almost all of my conscious thoughts. 

Love?  Get the entire fuck out of here.  I can’t possibly love her, right?  Fuck…

Either Taylor came in while I was in the shower or after I got in bed, but the house is dead quiet.  Thankfully, I succeed in my attempt to remain a hermit for the rest of the night.

I’m tempted to jack off again, but my exhaustion takes over before I can even get the hand that’s snuggly wrapped around my dick to complete a stroke.  I’m positive that dreams of a certain ginger are sure to taunt me in my sleep.

To be continued...

Saturday, 18 April 2020




I don’t respond.  I know that he’s probably feeling let down, expecting me to meet him at his house, but I really need to put some distance between us.  He’s given me an ass load of information to digest and I’m not too sure exactly how to process it just yet.  I know I’m not going to get any more writing done, my brain is out of sorts and I could use some one on one time with my girl, anyway.

Me – I’m coming over.  Sky home?

Mira – Nope.  At the clubhouse.  Come on over.

I don’t bother changing out of my yoga pants, but I do trade my tee shirt for a fitted tank and pull a Buck the Fuckeyes hoodie over my head.  Throwing on my sneakers, I’m out the door and heading down the highway to Mira and Skylar’s loft.

Mira meets me in the parking lot, already carrying two beers in her hand.  She knows me so well, this girl, and I love her hard for it.

“Okay, spill it.”  She wastes no time getting to the point.

“Can’t a girl just want to spend time with her favorite person in the world?”  I make a kissy face and take the beer from her hand, drawing a long swig from the neck.

“No.  No, she can’t.  Really, tell me what’s going on.”  Ahh, this is what happens when you become best friends with someone.  She’s able to see right through to my soul and I hate it. 

“Just stuff with Jacoby.”

“Do you hate your office?  He called me and begged me for my key.  He sounded so excited about his plans that as soon as I came home from Christmas with Sky, I went right over and helped him.  If you hate it, I’ll help you change it back.”  When Mira panics, she talks a million miles a minute.  It used to give me whiplash, but after fifteen years of friendship, I understand her.

“Mi, I absolutely love my office.  It’s the most perfect thing in the whole world.  It’s just that I’m getting a little too close.  You know I don’t do close,” I tell her as we take the elevator up to the eighth floor.

I walk into the loft, taking off my hoodie and tossing it on the dining room table on top of my purse.  Mira grabs two more beers and joins me in the living room.  Some people might think it’s immature, but Mira and I have an understanding.  We solve our problems with alcohol.  Usually tequila, but beer will do for tonight.

“Okay, so Jacoby is getting close and you’re freaking out?  Because you like him so much?  Because you don’t want to like him?  Because you think he’s like your …”

“Stop.  I didn’t say he was like him.  I do like him, a lot, but I’ve said it over and over again that I don’t want to be anything more than what we are.  He’s pushing for more, trying to weasel his way in, and I don’t like it one bit.  It’s like he’s trying to go around everything I say and do what he wants.”  I get the control that Jacoby’s used to having in his business world, but I will not be controlled, whatsoever.

I am a woman, not a piece of property.  Mira loves her property cut that Skylar gave to her a few months ago, and for her that’s fine.  I’m not that kind of girl.  I will not be owned.  I’m going to be me and do what I want, no matter the circumstance.

“Oh, and the fact that I’ve known him for six months and just find out tonight he has a six-year-old daughter didn’t exactly put my mind at ease.”

“You’re shitting me.  A kid?  Since when?”  Mira obviously didn’t get the daddy vibe from him either.  I proceed to tell her about Jacoby’s kid, in as much detail as he’d given me. 

“I just need time away from him.  He’s moving too far, too fast.  Do you understand?” 

“I’d like to say that I do, but I really don’t.  Not everyone finds that person that makes all their senses fire at one time.  I see the way you guys look at each other.  There’s no denying that you’re in love, you’re just too stubborn to accept it.  You’re going to regret it one day if you don’t act on it, Ky.  You guys have been spending more time together lately.  Don’t let him being a dad scare you away.”  Why does everyone think I’m scared of him being a father?

“It’s not that he has a child, Mira.  It’s the fact that he didn’t tell me until today.”

“I will stand by you because I’m your best friend, but I won’t do it without telling you what a dumbass you’re being.”

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically.  I’m not even sure why I try with her sometimes.  She’s always been a hopeless romantic, always seeing the good in people and dreaming of a happily ever after. 

I, on the other hand, know better.  There’s no such thing as living the dream.  The only thing we can do is live in the right now and take every moment for what it is—the right now, not forever.  I really hope that Mira finds everything she’s looking for, but it’s highly unlikely that she will.  I don’t dare tell her this though, because all she’ll do is argue with me.

“Movie?” Mira asks.

“Yup.  Pitch Perfect and dance party, please.”  Who watches a movie and reenacts the last scene just because it’s the best ending to any movie ever?  Us, that’s who.  We might look like fools, but who cares.  The tears from laughing so hard our stomachs hurt make up for any frustration I’m feeling with Jacoby and I focus on the times that I’ll always remember with my best friend.

Mira and I are just finishing our dance party and I’m doubled over in laughter as Mira’s phone starts singing from the kitchen.  Mira walks to her purse on the counter, clenching her belly, still laughing uncontrollably.

“Hey, babe,” she says sweetly into the receiver, still giggling and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Nothing, just hangin’ out with Ky.  She’s having boy trouble.”  Boy trouble?  Really?  This is the reason that I don’t do relationships, because when friends say boy trouble, it makes me want to puke.

“I can ask.  We’re not really dressed for that.”  I look down at myself and inwardly cringe.  Of course I would come to Mira’s and we would leave to socialize with other adults and I look like a hot mess.

“Ky, do you want to go to the clubhouse for a few?  Sky said there aren’t a lot of people there.” 

“As long as you go looking like that, I’m in.”  Yeah, she looks just as terrible as me.  Granted, her boyfriend is there and he’s seen her look worse probably, but fuck it; I have nobody to impress.  My only concern is embarrassing Skylar with his friends.

“Yeah, babe.  We’ll be there in twenty.  Have our drinks ready.”  Mira drops her phone back in her bag and starts to put on a pair of sneakers. 

I follow suit.  I take our beer bottles to the kitchen, wondering if we’re sober enough to drive.  Then I realize that we’re not drunk, maybe a slight buzz, but two beers apiece is nowhere near enough to get me to the point of inebriation. 

Throwing on my hoodie, grabbing my purse and keys and Mira making sure the door is locked, we’re on our way.  It’s only a ten minute drive to the clubhouse, but we must make sure that the radio is blaring so we can sing at the top of our lungs.

We arrive while in the middle of a Dirty Dancing soundtrack sing off, complete with as many dance moves as possible from the seat of the car.  There’s an extremely tall, good looking guy standing at the gate.  Sky must have told him we were coming down since we don’t have to tell him who we are before he opens the gate wide enough for us to drive through, closing it as soon as we’re safely inside the compound.

We walk through the doors and Skylar was right; there aren’t a lot of people here, maybe fifteen, and all of them seem to be wearing Hooliganz cuts.  As much as I love coming down on an open night, sometimes it’s just nice to sit with these guys.

I take off my hoodie, sling it over the back of a bar stool and take a sip of the vodka concoction that Skylar has ready for us.  Mira joins me at the bar, but she’s not sitting and drinking; she’s standing in between Skylar’s legs and hugging him for dear life.

“You guys really should learn about this thing they call personal space.  It’s a very interesting concept.  The first rule to personal space is to not constantly invade another’s.”  I don’t mean to sound bitter, but let’s face it, these two are always wrapped up in each other.  I’m not sure where Mira ends and Skylar begins.

“What’s up her ass?” Skylar asks Mira, completely ignoring me.

“I’m right here, Axe.  Nothing’s up my ass, that’s the fucking problem.”  The guy behind the bar spits out his drink and starts chuckling.  Skylar shakes his head, nestling further into Mira’s neck and Mira gives me the signature “you’re gonna get yourself in trouble” look. 

“What?” I casually say, taking another sip of my drink.  Looking around the bar, I see there are a few guys I’ve never met.  It’s time for introductions; my style.

The DJ is set up in his usual spot and is playing something with a little too much twang for my pleasure.  Setting my drink down, I saunter over to his booth, making sure to push my breasts out and put enough swing in my hips to make a blind man drool. 

“What do you have that I can dance to?”  I twirl my hair around my finger, acting as nauseating as possible.  I don’t understand why guys fall for this routine time and time again, it’s pathetic and disgusting.  I should be put down just for doing it, but if it works, it works, right?

“What ‘cha in the mood for, sweetheart?”  Barf.  Sweetheart?  Can’t he come up with something better?  At least Jacoby calls me Red.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that one should give a proper nickname that isn’t given to each and every woman he meets. 

Enough of Jacoby, bitch.  Do not think about him right now.  It’s time to let loose.

Pushing aside the bile rising from my stomach, I walk behind the speakers to scan the list of songs open on his computer.  Pointing at one that’s sure to change the atmosphere from a sad country bar into a place with real live people, I make my way back to the bar.  Yes.  Yes, I do sway my hips more than necessary, only because I can, I guess.

The song starts slow over the sound system and quickly picks up.  I take the final swig of my drink and head to the middle of the bar that doubles as a dance floor.  Mira’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, but when a girl wants to wop, a girl has to wop. 

I may have learned this dance while watching YouTube the other day, when I was supposed to be writing.  I’m slowly beginning to learn that being a writer means sixty percent involves writing and the other forty percent involves dicking around on websites that are completely counterproductive.

I’m making it rain when I feel a pair of strong hands wrap around my hips and someone grinds into my ass.  I smile slyly, knowing it wouldn’t take long before someone got up on this.  I don’t bother turning around because at this point, it doesn’t matter who’s behind me as long as they’re in for a good time. 

Operation Get Jacoby Out of My Head is in full effect.

I bend forward, drop down to the floor and slowly pull myself up, rubbing my ass across his legs and back to his crotch like a dog in heat.  I put my hand on top of his when he pulls back.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mira laughing so hard she spits her drink out.  I cock my head, not understanding what’s so funny.  That is, until I turn around.

“Dammit, Skylar.  What the fuck?”  This fucker’s shoulders are bouncing up and down with silent laughter.

“It was right there.  I had to.  God, Kylee, you’re too easy.”  Well, what the fuck does he mean by easy?  It better not be what I think it means.

I hit him in the chest hard enough to make the clown behind the bar wince.  Skylar places his hand over the spot I just wacked and walks backward toward Mira, shaking his head but still laughing.  These two kill me. 

Realizing there’s not much I can do to Skylar right now, I walk back and order another drink from the bartender.  He’s not a bad looking guy; probably six feet, good build from what I can tell, short and well kept blond hair and deep midnight blue eyes. 

He’ll do.

“What time can you switch bar duties with someone else?”  I catch him off guard.  His eyes widen at my possible proposition and he scans the room.  “What are you looking for?”  I ask sarcastically.

“You’re here with Axe, right?”  Oh, hell.  Technically I’m here with Skylar, but I’m not here with Skylar. 

“Well, I’m not his if that’s what you’re looking for.  See that girl over there?” I point to Mira, who’s frantically kissing Skylar like he’s getting ready to board a space shuttle destined to save the world from falling asteroids.  “That’s Axe’s girl, my best friend.  I came here with her, but I’m most definitely not here with anyone.”

On a different note, Mira’s really come out of her shell.  When she was with Danny, the idea of public displays of affection made her uneasy.  With Skylar, though, she’s a whole new woman.  She’s practically raping him in the middle of this damn bar.  Maybe I should buy Sky a rape whistle.

The corners of his lips turn up into a slight grin and his eyes peruse my body, well what he can see of it from behind the bar.  “What’s your name?” 

“Kylee.”  I put the straw into my mouth, hollow my cheeks and make a complete spectacle of myself.  I typically don’t pull all my tricks out in one night, but this is a different situation.  I have a man to fuck out of my mind and a life to move on with.  “How about you?  Got a name?”

“Jacob.”  Well played, universe, well fucking played.  “But the club calls me Anger.” 

“Anger works for me, but why do they call you that?”

“When I first started hanging around the club as a teenager, I was pissed off all the time.  Prowler always used to say, ‘That kid has more anger than any grown man I’ve ever met’, and it kinda stuck.”  He shrugs his shoulders, apparently not caring what they call him.

“Interesting.  I get it.”  I lean over the bar, leaving nothing to the imagination when he can see clear down my tank.  I grab his shirt, pulling him toward me.  “So, Anger, wanna give me a ride?”

“My bike’s out front, if you wanna go we can.”  I laugh.  Not the sharpest tool in the shed, this guy.  Thank the heavens he’s easy on the eyes. 

“Not exactly what I was talking about,” I whisper in the huskiest voice I can muster while containing my laughter.

“Shit yeah.”  Finally, he catches on.  Anger grabs another guy standing next to the bar.  The two switch positions behind the bar and my hand is quickly swallowed up by Anger’s much larger one, dragging me toward the stairs.

“Hey, Ky!”  Skylar hollers from the other side of the bar.  His questioning gaze is hard to misinterpret, not to mention the disappointed look coming from Mira is almost enough to make me turn around, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach is what’s worse. 

I know exactly what I’m doing, and obviously so do they, but I can’t seem to stop.  I need to prove that I don’t need Jacoby.  That being with him after he lied to me like that is crazy, and this guy might be the cure to the insanity I’m feeling.  I shrug my shoulders and give Mira and Sky a small finger wave before I’m on the move again with Anger.

Walking through the narrow hallway that houses the individual apartments of the members, I find myself dragging my feet.  Once I enter the door that we’re stopped in front of, there’s no going back.  The feelings of Jacoby and me together over the last few weeks flood my brain, causing even more hesitance.  As much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s been really nice to be with one guy so long.

No, not going that route.  Pull it together, get your swerve on and move the fuck on.  Going down that road will only lead to heartbreak. 

As soon as Anger’s key opens the lock, it’s my hand that turns the handle and almost shoves him through the entrance while kicking the door closed with my foot.

“So, about that ride?” I pull my tank top over my head, tossing it on the floor. 

The room is very similar to Skylar’s from what I can remember.  The only time I was there, I was wasted out of my mind and Mira took me upstairs to take care of before I made a fool of myself. 

“Don’t you worry, firecracker.  This is gonna be a fun night.” 

Anger’s mouth comes crashing down on mine, picking me up and not so carefully dropping me on his bed.  His less than skillful tongue plunges into my mouth, not waiting for permission, and attacks my senses. 

I see why there’s a no kissing rule with whores.  It’s not the personal factor, it’s the fact that most guys can’t kiss.  Jacoby can kiss.  Fuck.  No.  More.  Jacoby.

His calloused hands reach behind my back to unhook my bra.  He’s frustrated when he can’t find the hook, and I’m about to poke fun at him for being such a dumbass when I remember the clasp is in the front.  Pushing Anger backward, I put one hand between my breasts and quickly unhook the bra, letting the cups fall to the side, exposing my tits.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, bringing his mouth over one of my nipples.  The sensation of him biting and tugging at the sensitive points has me panting, learning his pattern.  Lick, bite, tug.  Lick, bite, tug.

While still attached to my tits, his hands find the waistband of my yoga pants, pulling them over my ass.  He only breaks contact to pull my pants the rest of the way off my body.  Positioning himself between my parted thighs, he resumes his attack. 

His fingers graze their way down my body and his thumb finds my clit.  With slow, calculated movement, Anger circles the hub of all my pleasure with slight pressure. It’s not nearly enough to get me off, but just the right amount to have me ready to grind my hips upward to meet his hand.

His kisses trail down my stomach and pelvis, until he’s hovering over my core.  Once his mouth closes the distance, my hips buck. 

“You’re the best I’ve ever tasted,” he mutters before running his tongue from my opening to my clit then sucking it through his teeth.

“What are you, the fucking cunt connoisseur?” I hate small talk during sex.  Fuck me, make me come and then leave me alone.  This is unnecessary.  Maybe not for some girls, but for me, it’s a requirement not to sound like a cheesy romance novel.

“The cunt what?” he chuckles under his breath with his face still buried in my pussy.

“Never mind.  Keep doing that.  Yeah, that right there.”  I rotate my hips with his tongue on my clit and fingers inside me, manipulating the orgasm out of me.

“I want to know what you said.”  He leans back on his heels, leaving me panting.  I can feel the frustration starting to pulse inside of me.  Robbing me of an orgasm is never a good thing and I can turn pretty ugly when that shit happens. 

Okay, so I’m sure that if he knows I was making fun of his bullshit dirty talk, he won’t finish.  Think of something witty, bitch.  “I called you the cunt carnivore.  Now, get back at it.  I was right there.”  Stroke his ego a little bit, it always works.

“Cunt carnivore, huh?  I got you.”  He wastes no time getting me back to the place I was moments ago.  Anger adds another finger inside of me and angles them upward, hitting that glorious spot in almost all women, turning me incoherent.

“Fuck.  Yes.  Don’t.  Fucking.  Stop.”  My hands fly to his hair, holding him in place.  I couldn’t care less if he can breathe or not.  As far as I’m concerned, he can breathe when my legs stop quivering.

The ensemble of angels starts to harmonize as a loud knock on the door startles both of us.   Mother fucker.

“What the fuck do you want?” Anger screams.  I can totally see the meaning behind the nickname now.  I’m left panting on the bed, completely naked and   ,  wondering if whoever is on the other side of the door will finish the job.

“Calm your shit.  I need Kylee.”  Motherfucker. Skylar has impeccable timing.  Scratch that whole finishing the job business.  Not that Skylar’s not sex on legs, but he happens to be attached to the best friend I’ll ever have, and I’m pretty sure that won’t go over well.

“Welp, looks like that’s for me.”  I stand up and start putting my clothes on when Anger’s strong hand wraps around my wrist.

“What about me?”  That’s the thing with guys these days.  They have no problem asking for head or some help in jacking them off, but are never concerned with the woman.  But hold the fucking phone if the woman gets off and doesn’t repay the favor. 

“One, you dick, you have about two seconds to get your fucking hands off me,” I rip my arm out of his grasp, “and two, what about you?”  Yep, you piss me off and the gloves come off.

“Are you kidding me?  I go down on you and you can’t take care of this?” he says, motioning to his crotch.  The veins in the side of his neck start pulsing, threatening to break through his skin.  I do feel bad for the guy, standing there in boxers with his erection straining against the fabric.  I can’t say I’ve ever experienced blue balls, but I’m sure it can’t be pleasurable.  Then again, it’s not my problem, now is it?

Wait, when did he take off his clothes?  Never mind, I don’t care.

“Sorry, cowboy.  You heard Axe.  He needs me for something.  I’m sure it wouldn’t be in your best interest to disregard your Sergeant, now would it?”  I’ve learned a few things hanging around Mira and hearing all this mumbo-jumbo about club politics.  It makes perfect sense why this tool wouldn’t want to disregard a direct order from someone higher on the food chain than him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath and punches a hole in the wall next to where he’s standing.

“Okay, Temper Tantrum, you might wanna calm down a little bit.  Not sure who told you punching holes in shit would get you what you wanted, but they clearly lied.”  Knowing that Skylar is on the other side of the door and won’t let this jackass put his hands on me probably gives me more courage than I should have.  This guy’s fucking nuts.

“The name’s Anger, bitch,” he seethes. 

I spin so fast I make myself nauseous.  There are very few people in this world that are allowed to talk to me like that and usually bitch is a term of endearment.  This fucking asshole better think twice about disrespecting me before I kick him in the dick.  I stare at him, waiting for his apology; he fails miserably.

“Oh, really?  I’m sorry, I could have sworn it was Temper Tantrum.  Well, Anger, bitch is for little girls.  Me?  I’m a fucking cunt.  It’s best that you learn that.  Now, be a good boy and handle that before you go back downstairs.  Wouldn’t want your buddies to know you can knock a guy out, but can’t get a girl off.”  With that statement, I open the door to see Skylar leaning on the opposite wall shaking his head, laughing.

“What?”  I close the door behind me and start to walk to the stairs.

“The walls are paper thin around here, Ky.  Did you just call yourself a cunt?  I thought girls hated that word?”

“Yes, I most certainly did call myself a cunt.  And it’s all about taking back the word.  It’s ugly and sounds terrible, but when you use it and embrace it, suddenly it can’t be used against you.”

“Look at my little Kylee, all grown up, getting philosophical after berating one of my brothers.  I should be upset with you, but that was the funniest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking riot.”  Skylar rubs his knuckles across the top of my head, making me stop to punch him in the stomach.

No matter what happens in life, I know that this guy right here is my brother.  He will go to the ends of the earth to protect me and let me get away with shit most people dream of.  He’s a good guy to have on your side.

I reach the bottom of the stairs where a very unhappy looking Mira stands with her hands on her hips.  Leave it to Mira to make me feel even worse than I already do.

“You about done being Slutty Sally?”  Well, look at her wearing her sassy pants.

“Yeah, Mi.  I’m done.  You about ready?  I don’t really want to be here when Anger comes back down.  We had some choice words.  And, well, he’s probably pretty angry.”  I can’t help but giggle, but come on, it’s kind of hilarious.

“She might have called him out on not being good enough to get her off,” Skylar chimes in, still laughing.

“You didn’t!” Mira’s face turns beet red.

“I did.  I totally did,” I laugh, nudging Skylar with my shoulder as he walks us to the door.

“Ky, are you good to drive?  I won’t be too much longer; maybe thirty minutes or so.”  Skylar kisses Mira and hugs me. 

“I’m good.”  I start to walk out the door when Alpha Skylar rears his pretty little head. 

“Okay, I’m going to have Mex follow you guys home.”

“Babe, we got it.  No worries,” Mira says with a stern face.

“Not negotiable.  It’s late, dark and you’re in the city.  He’s following.  Love you.”  Skylar kisses Mira once we’re at the car and heads back inside.

“Love you,” Mira grumbles and gets in the passenger seat.  I eye Mex, trying to tell him he doesn’t need to come with us, but he’s not having it.  He fires up his bike and pulls out behind us.

The ride back to Mira’s is uneventful, but I can tell she wants to ask about my Anger fiasco.  She’s never been one to pry, and maybe one day I’ll tell her, just not tonight.  Mex takes off as soon as Mira and I are through the main door of the building.

Mira’s adamant that I crash at her place since it’s too late for me to drive back to Ann Arbor.  I agree, more so because I’m far too tired to think about spending another twenty minutes in the car.  She goes off to her bedroom as I make my bed on the couch. 

I realize that I haven’t checked my phone all night.  I pull it from my bag, after the three minute search to find it, and see a few missed texts from Jacoby.  I suddenly miss him, wishing I was in his bed; Jacoby’s warm body cocooning mine and him whispering in my ear.

I make a mental note to call him in the morning, once I have some time to sleep on what I think I may be deciding.  I fall asleep with thoughts of Jacoby running through my mind, and how badly this can turn out if I’m not careful.

To be continued tomorrow...

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