2. REASON ST. PIERRE
REASON ST. PIERRE
Istood in the middle of my office, staring at the Miami skyline from the panoramic view that surrounded me. The bay glistened beneath me, which created the perfect setting for reflecting, something I always found myself doing when I was in this office.
“Damn, it’s such a beautiful day to get some of my husband’s dick.” I heard my wife’s voice behind me, her presence stirring something in me without much effort.
I slowly turned around to face her, surprised by this visit. She closed the door behind her and stared at me sexily. It had been a while since she’d popped up on me, compared to a time when we fucked more in my offices than we did in our mansion.
My eyes roamed over her cream-colored, skin-tight pantsuit that hugged her thick body. I ran my tongue across my bottom lip; my gaze never left her. I walked toward my baby, loosening my tie in the process.
My wife, Saje St. Pierre, was the epitome of beauty, and the millions of viewers who tuned into the soap opera she starred in could attest to that.
Thick, dark brown, wavy hair cascaded down her round, pretty brown face and stopped at her shoulders.
My eyes roamed over her slanted eyes and plump lips, then down to her full breasts, which were begging to be freed from the material that covered them.
My attention didn’t stop there as my eyes continued to travel down every curve she was blessed with.
As Saje seductively eased out of her clothes, I thought back to the day we first met.
It was a couple months before my college graduation, and my former mentor, John Castleton, and I were out for dinner.
We were in the middle of a conversation when the sweet scent of a woman’s perfume caught my attention as her beautiful ass walked past our table.
She was a distraction I gladly accepted.
Her aroma was one that would be forever engraved into my senses.
After smelling and then seeing her, my conversation with John had to wait.
I took in her thick legs, big titties, fat pussy print, mysterious slanted dark brown eyes, and smooth cocoa brown skin. She was leading a pack of giggling women, and I didn’t care. I stood, looking thirsty as fuck, my focus zeroed in on her.
Before I could introduce myself to her, she stepped closer to me and said, “Shit, you’re fine as fuck. I would…” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she quickly glanced at John and paused. Instead, she said, “I’m Saje, and you are?” She extended her hand for me to shake.
Straightforward. A woman who knows what she wants.
“I’m Reason. Nice to meet you, beautiful.”
“Hmmm, Reason, I like that. Real different.” She licked her lips and bit into the bottom one after her wet tongue had nicely coated it.
“I knew it had to be a reason I came here.” She grinned and looked back at the group of women whose attention was on us as they whispered to each other with big smiles on their faces.
If it was any other time, I would’ve snatched Saje up, and it would’ve been just us for the rest of the night, maybe talking or me sliding deep in her guts.
But I still had to find out why John brought me here, and Saje was with her friends, so I would save that for another time.
After we eye-fucked each other a few seconds longer, I passed her my business card, which she happily snatched from my hand.
“I’ll be in touch, Mr. St. Pierreee,” she flirted before heading to an empty table with her girls tagging along.
I didn’t move until she sat down, looked my way, and winked at me.
“Reason, she’s a bold woman. Be careful with that one, son.”
I sat down with my focus back on John. “Ahh, come on, old-school.” I laughed. “These women ain’t the same as the ones you dated back in the day,” I defended, trying to get John hip to these new-age type women.
After his wife passed away years ago, he never dated anyone else.
He said he knew he’d never meet another great woman like his sweet Irene.
John was used to meeting women the old-fashioned way and thought women in this new generation should’ve been the same as they were back in the day.
That was never going to happen, but maybe there were a few good girls, as he called them, around somewhere.
We continued to have small talk until John was finally ready to tell me why we were here. He announced that he was passing down his business—his TV network—to me. Meaning I would be the new owner of Urban Television Network (UTN). By this point, UTN was bringing in millions of viewers daily.
As happy as I was and ready to embark on this new venture, I didn’t understand why John came to this decision.
Yeah, I was his mentee and had completed my internship at his network, but, to me, that still wasn’t a good enough reason.
I wasn’t trying to sound ungrateful, but I needed to know the why behind his choice.
I was from the hood; I knew shit never came for free, definitely not in this industry.
John went on to explain that I was prepared for the role.
With my major in communications, being an intern, and later his protégé, he stated there was no one better suited for this position than me.
Not only that, but John didn’t have any children, no one to continue his legacy.
He had taken me under his wing when my father died during my second semester in college.
A period in my life I’d never forget, even if I wanted to.
There was a time I was ready to give up college, and do what? I didn’t know.
Mentally, I had hit rock bottom, and it took one of my professors to intervene and introduce me to John because he felt that he could get me out of the funk I was in.
My professor vouched for me and had more faith than I did in myself.
He said I was too good of a student to just give up all that I had worked hard for.
Then he mentioned the times he’d met my father, and he knew how proud of me he was from the conversations they’d had.
My father, Ramiro St. Pierre, dreamed of seeing me graduate from college.
It was the push from Professor Reed and John’s mentorship that gave me back my motivation and purpose.
With their encouragement and guidance, I was able to finish what my father started years ago and hadn’t been able to complete when he dropped out of college after my mother gave birth to me.
I lost my father and gained a man who became a father figure to me.
Although John could never replace my old man, he did all he could to provide what he thought I was missing from my father’s absence.
Without John, I knew for a fact I would’ve been back on the block, doing God knows what.
The day of John’s announcement was one of the best and worst days of my life.
At the time, I didn’t know I had met my future wife along with John passing down his throne to me.
But that wasn’t the only news that he revealed that day.
He told me he was dying from a blood disorder that had finally caught up to him.
He was born with sickle cell disease. Doctors never expected him to see old age, but he did.
It hit me hard that I was going to lose one of the most important and influential people in my life.
The emotions from what John shared tortured me internally. How could he keep this from me? It was a question I asked myself repeatedly. I didn’t know how to handle the news. It felt like I was reliving the same feelings I had when my father passed away from cancer. But John wouldn’t let me break.
For the next few months, he got things together for me to take over his business.
We traveled and made the best of the time he had left on this earth.
I thought the doctors had made a mistake, and just maybe John didn’t know what he was talking about when he told me he was dying.
He was smiling more than usual, happier than I’d ever seen him since the day Professor Reed introduced us.
He couldn’t be on his way out; he still had so much life left in him.
John had more than enough money; couldn’t he get a team of top-notch doctors together to reverse this shit?
When I voiced it to him, he sat me down and explained that he had already accepted his fate.
He said he had accomplished things beyond his wildest imagination.
John made it crystal clear that it was now my turn to take over and do shit with his company that he couldn’t do. “Show these motherfuckin’ folks that everything a Black man touches can turn into gold. I started this, and now I need you to finish it.”
The day after my college graduation, I went to visit John. I was still on a natural high when I showed up at his house, ready to continue celebrating and having our deep conversations about life.
I let myself into his crib with the key he’d given me.
With a huge smile plastered on my face, I walked into his room and immediately halted.
I stood frozen at the entrance of his bedroom.
John looked like he’d aged out of nowhere.
It seemed like his health had taken a turn for the worse.
Like, his health deteriorated overnight.
He had turned two shades darker, and the faraway look in his cloudy eyes scared me.
I couldn’t understand, or maybe I didn’t want to accept it because just a day prior, he was crying and cheering when I walked across the stage with my degree.
“John,” I called his name.
He struggled to turn his head toward me, and it looked like it took all his energy to do something that should’ve been simple.
John parted his lips to speak, but no words formed.
I took my time trying to make it to his bedside.
He was withering away right before my eyes.
I placed a chair next to his bed and sat there, telling him I loved him, sounding like a broken record.
John closed his eyes, and I saw the drops of tears that escaped his eyes and slid down his cheek, then disappeared into the pillow. I grabbed his hand, and he squeezed mine weakly. I couldn’t move, but I cried, hating that we had finally reached this moment.
My mentor, my friend, my second father, and my role model took his last breath with me right by his side.
As much as it hurt, John’s death lit a fire in me. I couldn’t let him down, even if he wasn’t here in the flesh anymore. I took his words to heart and did exactly what he told me to do during one of our last conversations. I was going to be a force in this TV business—I had to.
Eight years later, and as a thirty-year-old man, I was now in a position that made me a threat to people who believed a Black man didn’t deserve to have power and wealth, or a seat at their table.
But a nigga from the ghetto had proven them wrong and had become everything Ramiro St. Pierre and John Castleton knew I would become.
I wish they were still here to see all that I’d accomplished with the foundation they both had individually built.
I was forever indebted to them, in life and the afterlife.
“Those better be happy tears I see, because this wet pussy is yearning for you.”
Saje’s bluntness brought me back to the present.
I blinked back tears that had formed and attempted to focus on my wife, who was now sitting on my glass desk, her ass smothering a scattered pile of documents.
Her legs were wide open, and her toes were pointed to the ceiling.
Somewhere between me being zoned out, she had undressed and was ready to feel my inches penetrating her.
She had no care in the world whether the papers were important. Saje knew as well as I did how messy she could get. Fuck it, that’s why I had a printer. All this shit could get printed again. Saje could drench anything she wanted for all I cared.
“It ain’t never took you this long to get up in this pussy. Don’t tell me my man done got tired of hitting the same ol’ coochie.” Her tone was soft and sensual as her eyes lowered.
I chuckled and ran my tongue across my lips. “Never that, baby. You can’t fault me for admiring one of God’s greatest creations,” I admitted. My eyes were still glued to her center.
Saje had my dick rock hard and ready to enter her. As I positioned myself between her thick legs, ready to taste her pussy, she stopped me.
She widened her legs. “Fuck the foreplay. I need daddy’s dick.”
Anything my lady wanted, she could get. I released my meat and aimed it toward her juicy hole. Saje didn’t need my saliva to get her moist; it was already ripe. I took a minute to enjoy the view of her vagina pulsing softly as it opened and closed. Saje knew what she was doing, and she did it well.
I firmly gripped her waist, slid inside, and wasted no time pounding her.
I knew when Saje’s body wanted that hood lovin’, and this was one of those times when she needed to get fucked.
Each stroke caused her to leak like an invisible faucet had been turned on.
The documents under her ass were saturated at that point.
“Mr. St. Pierre, there’s some—” My assistant, Ann, burst into my office.
Fuck, I thought Saje locked the door.
Ann froze and adjusted her already perfectly positioned, foggy glasses.
I was still deep inside Saje, who was leaning on her elbows with her legs spread open like wings. “Damn, lady. Don’t you see my husband fuckin’ me?” Saje asked, smacking her lips and rolling her eyes.
“Um… I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. St. Pierre. Uh… I didn’t know—”
Saje cut her off. “Sorry, my ass! Next time, knock! You see the door was closed. Them damn foggy-ass glasses ain’t working or something?”
“Saje,” I interrupted, stopping her from saying anything else. “All that ain’t necessary.”
Saje looked at me as if to say, “But…” However, with the glare I now had in my eyes, she knew better than to argue. The situation was already awkward enough, especially with my wood still buried between her legs.
“Whatever, Reason.”
Ann rushed out of my office without saying another word.
Her sudden movement ended the stare down between my wife and me.
I was sure my secretary walking in on us wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever seen in her life.
Ann would be okay. I always tried to be respectful and keep shit professional, but sometimes niggas slip up.
Saje’s pussy muscles wrapped around me tightly, like she was trying to punish me.
All it did was make my dick grow longer and get stiffer.
Making her explode and busting a nut were the only things on my mind.
I grabbed Saje’s neck and banged into her fat pussy as thoughts of Ann catching us quickly faded away.