CHAPTER FOUR
S TEFANIE
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W HEN I DROPPED INDIA back off at school, she hugged me tightly. With her arms wrapped around me, she asked if I was sure I was okay with her spending spring break with friends. Of course, I wasn’t sure.
I’d already come up with a thousand things that could go wrong while she was with her friends. I remember my spring break days. I remember the partying, the drinking, the guys. Though she promised me there wouldn’t be any of that, I wasn’t born yesterday.
Still, I told her everything was okay. I knew if I tried to force her to do things my way, she’d only rebel. That was what I’d done when I was in college. Hell, I’d even married the man my parents hadn’t wanted me to be with right after college.
So, I knew exactly what trying to hold on too tightly to your child could do. She promised to text me all the information I’d asked for. Then she kissed my cheek, left the vehicle, waved goodbye, and raced back into her dorm.
And I was left sitting in the parking lot, wondering when she’d grown up, wondering when she’d stopped being the little girl who ran toward me instead of away from me. A strange feeling settled over me as I sat there, staring at the door she’d just raced through.
I needed to leave before I called her phone and told her I’d changed my mind. I drove off, heading to my Airbnb. But that strange feeling didn’t disappear. It remained. I didn’t have a word for it.
It felt like a stone in the pit of my stomach, unsettling and heavy. I turned up the radio, trying to shake off this feeling, pushing down the emotions trying to overwhelm me. I was being ridiculous.
I was fine. Indie was fine. I would be here in town if she needed me. I had to look on the bright side. I had an entire week to myself, a beautiful rental house to relax in, and no obligations other than drinking wine and watching all the shows I’d been neglecting.
I could catch up on a book series I hadn’t had time to finish. I could try a new recipe I’d been wanting to try. All of that should sound exciting. So why did I feel like I was drowning in boredom with no purpose in life?
I huffed, shaking my head as I pulled into the driveway of the Airbnb. I was overthinking. I did that too much. After entering the home, I closed and locked the door behind me. I kicked off my heels at the door, sighing at the relief of my toes being free.
Tossing my purse and keys onto the couch, I padded into the kitchen. Wine . I needed wine. I grabbed a bottle from the counter, poured myself a generous glass, and returned to the living room, where I sank onto the couch, stretching my legs out.
I took a sip and closed my eyes at the taste. Yeah, this was definitely what I needed. Opening my eyes, I stared across the room where a mirage of mirrors decorated the far wall. There were different colored flowers on each mirror.
It was a beautiful display and similar décor was fashion around the entire home, which was probably why it was called the Flower Villa. My gaze was glued to my reflection. I looked tired. Tired as hell. My dress was rumpled now.
My hair was frizzy, and my edges were no longer laid. I stared away from the mirror, no longer wanting to see myself. I rifled through my purse until I found my phone. Got it. I scrolled idly through my notifications, half-heartedly checking messages.
I flipped through social media, but it was the same old posts. Nothing interesting. Nothing new. Just like my life. Ugh! I was about to put the phone down and watch television when the phone dinged. It was a text from Ronnie.
Ronnie : You and Indi settled in yet?
I texted him back a sad face emoji.
Me : India ditched me for her friends.
Ronnie : Damn. The betrayal.
Me : Right??
Ronnie : That means you have no excuse not to go out with me tonight, bitch!
I snorted. I should have known this was coming.
Me : I literally just got here. I haven’t even showered yet.
Ronnie : So? Hurry up and shower, then drape something sexy over your fine ass. We’re going out.
I really wasn’t in the mood to go out tonight. Before I could text him that, he texted me again.
Ronnie : And don’t say you don’t have anything to wear. I told you we were going out at least once while you were in town. You promised to bring a club outfit.
We could go out another night. It didn’t have to be tonight.
Me : How about we stay in, pop popcorn, and watch that one movie with that fine actor you like?
What was the name of the movie? Before I could remember it, Ronnie texted me back.
Ronnie : Girl, we are not staying in. If we do, you’ll spend the whole night texting Indi and ruining her spring break. Even if you don’t text her, you’ll end up driving by the place she’s at all night, making sure nothing happens. I need to get you out so you can live a little. I won’t take no for an answer.
I sighed, rolling my eyes. But a small smile played at my lips. Ronnie always knew when to drag me out of my own head. Maybe going out wouldn’t be the worst idea. I took a sip of my wine, trying to convince myself I actually wanted to go out.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror across from me. This time, I forced myself not to focus on the negatives. My hair was frizzy, yeah, but it was just returning to its naturally curly state. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that.
Yeah, my dress looked frumpy. But it was because of the way I was sitting. I sat my glass down on the end table and stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress. My eyes traced the curve of my body.
Yeah, I gained more than a few pounds over the years. But I looked good. I turned to the side. Women paid good money to have an ass like this. This stomach, though! That was a work in progress.
With Indi gone, I’d been working out more, and my stomach was far flatter than it had been. I ran my hand over my belly. I could feel an ab or two popping in. Progress! Instead of always pointing out the negatives, I should give myself props when props was due.
I should praise myself more. I should treat myself more. I should live for myself more. I smiled at the mirror. I was going to go out tonight. I was going to have fun. I was going to drink, dance, and wear something a little revealing. Maybe I’d even find a sexy guy to grind on. And with that thought, my brain conjured an image of a sexy guy.
Julian Cattaneo.
The moment his image popped into my head, I banished it to the depths of oblivion, hoping it would remain locked away there. But it popped right back up. Cursing under my breath, I took another, longer sip of my wine. My phone dinged.
Ronnie : Bitch, I’m getting my clothes and toiletries and heading to your place. We are going out tonight. I won’t take no for an answer. Bye.
I smiled. I was ready to go out, too. I started to text him back.
Me : I’m ready to go out and shake my WAP.
I didn’t hit send. WAP – Wet Ass Pussy . I listened to that song some mornings when I jogged the boardwalk near the beach. But I don’t think I should say that in the text. It didn’t feel right. Hmmm. What other song had I heard lately? Oh, I got it!
Me : I’m ready to go out and show them that they’re not like us.
Grinning, I hit send. Then, I reread the message. I probably should’ve said, they not like us. Not they’re not like us. Oh, well! He knew what I meant. He texted me back.
Ronnie : Yasss! Bitch! Let’s show them.
Chuckling, I took another sip of my wine. And just like that, I was no longer feeling down. True friends were the best. I stared at my reflection again. I was doing this. I was going out tonight.
As I downed the rest of my glass, I decided a shower was next, and then I would work on taming my hair. But the shower needed to be a long and hot one. Hot enough to wash away the remnants of my sour mood.
Hot enough to scrub Julian Cattaneo out of my thoughts. Ugh! I was doing it again, thinking about that man. In the bathroom, I turned the shower on and waited for the water to get hot. I got my toiletries and hair care products together, placing them on the bathroom counter.
Once the water was hot enough, I stripped out of my clothes, tossed them into the hamper, and stepped under the spray, sighing as the hot water beat against my skin. It slid over me like silk, loosening the tension from my shoulders and back.
I tilted my head, letting the water wash over my face and soak my curls. I worked my fingers through my hair, detangling it before I squeezed shampoo into my hand and began washing my hair.
I let the conditioner sit on my tresses while I showered, hands roaming over my body while my mind wandered. I should be thinking about India. About her spring break plans. About how to fill my lonely week ahead.
Yet, the only thing my naughty mind wanted to think about was him . His lips against my hand. How ridable they’d looked when he’d whispered, I want you . My hand slowed, towel lingering on my neck, right above my pulse, as I recalled that intense look in his eyes.
If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, then that man’s soul was wicked as hell. I dragged my hands down my neck, over my breasts, palms cupping the weight of them. He’d stared at them. Oh, he’d absolutely stared, hadn’t he?
Had he imagined how they looked, how they felt? Had he pictured himself flicking his tongue over my nipples? They hardened as my thumbs brushed over them. A soft sigh slipped past my lips as I pictured his signature smirk.
He’d definitely be smirking if he knew what I was doing right now. Especially if he knew I was thinking of him while I did it. Would he tease me about my wayward thoughts, or would he show me that the real thing was so much better than my wildest fantasies?
He’d probably do the latter. I bit my lower lip and let my hands wander lower over my stomach, nearing the spot where heat pooled, growing hotter with every memory. And when my fingers found my clit, I shivered. Hard.
“Julian...”
The name escaped me, breathy and pathetic, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Even though I knew I should, even though I knew this was wrong. I let my fantasies run wild. I pictured him kneeling in the shower, staring up at me with those dark eyes.
As I massaged my clit, I imagined him dragging that wicked tongue of his over my tiny nub with slow, torturous strokes, humming low in his throat while I tangled my hands in his hair, holding his head in place.
A groan escaped me as I tilted my head back, letting the water wash over my face as I imagined him sucking my clit into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. My hips rolled, grinding into my own touch, water pouring over my lips as I gasped.
I worked myself harder, faster. I was close. So damn close. My lips parted on another gasp, water filling my mouth. And then I pictured myself kneeling before him, his cock thrusting between my lips as he fucked my mouth.
I swallowed the shower water, imagining myself swallowing his cum down. My hips jerked, my heart racing as I rocked against my fingers. I opened my mouth, letting the water fill it and spill from it, imagining it was his cum overflowing from my lips as he moved in and out of my mouth.
And then I imagined him pulling out of my mouth and forcing me against the shower wall, then thrusting deep into my pussy with his thick cock, over and over and over until I...
“Julian!” I groaned, body shuddering, pussy quivering.
My orgasm ricocheted through me so hard that my knees nearly buckled. My pussy clenched as waves of pleasure rolled over me, leaving me trembling under the spray. By the time the aftershocks faded, the guilt was already creeping in.
OMG! I just got off while thinking about Julian Cattaneo.
What the hell was wrong with me? I was almost forty. I was a mother. I was the mother of his sister’s roommate. There was a chance my daughter had a crush on him. Yet, here I was, rubbing my clit and moaning his name.
I stared down at my hand. Bad hand. I spanked my bad hand with my good hand. And bad pussy too. I spanked my clit and then shivered. Ugh! Muttering a curse, I resumed showering, scrubbing my skin like I could erase the evidence of what I’d just done.
By the time I washed the conditioner out of my hair, the water was growing cold. My phone rang just as I was getting out of the shower. I nearly slipped down as I raced into the bedroom to get my phone, thinking it could be India. It wasn’t. Ronnie’s name flashed across my screen.
“Hey, Ron,” I answered, wrapping a towel around myself.
“Hey, boo. Listen... don’t hate me,” he mumbled, sounding guilty.
“What now?” I asked, rolling my eyes, wondering if he was ditching me too.
“One of the servers called out, and the kitchen is short-staffed. I have to jump in and help for a bit while I wait for the part-time employee to come in.”
I pouted. Yep, he was ditching me. I tried not to let my disappointment seep into my voice.
“It’s okay. That restaurant is your baby. Maybe I’ll come by and have a drink while you work.” I was now in the mood to get out of the house, so I was going somewhere tonight.
“Oh, I’m not canceling our plans, chick. I’m just going to be a little late. Plus, it’s early anyway. We have plenty of time.”
He was right. It was still early.
“I’ll be over later, though. Don’t you dare back out on me, Stef.”
I smiled. “I am not backing out.”
“Good. Because I will personally drag you out of that house if you try.”
“Yeah, yeah. Call when you get here. I’m going to moisturize my hair and take a nap. So, I may be asleep when you arrive.”
“Rest up.”
“Bye, Ronnie.”
“Bye!”
I hung up, already yawning. But first things first: hair . With the towel tied around me, I padded back into the bathroom, grabbed my leave-in conditioner, and worked it through my damp curls, section by section.
My hair felt soft between my fingers, and the scent of coconut and honey filled the air as I twisted my hair into two neat braids. I’d unravel them later for a full, voluminous look at the club. By the time I was finished, I was yawning so much that my eyes were watering.
I dressed in my cute pink pajamas and pink bonnet and climbed into bed, burying my head under the comforter and promising myself it was just going to be a little nap. A power nap. Maybe an hour, tops. It was a few hours later when Ronnie's call woke me up.
“Open the door, sleepy head. I’m outside. I’ve called you five times and even rang the doorbell. You’re going to have these people’s neighbors think I’m trying to break in. Hurry up.”
I groaned, rubbing sleep from my eyes. My phone said it was nearly eight. Damn . I’d slept harder than I thought. Dragging myself out of bed, I slipped my feet into my furry pink house shoes and shuffled to the front door.
When I opened it, there he was. My bestie. Ronnie. With dark skin smooth as butter and a trimmed goatee, he was dressed to impress in black slacks that fit snugly and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to show off his toned forearms.
“You look like you’re on the prowl tonight,” I teased, stepping aside to let him in.
“I am. Just call me black panther.” He clawed at the air and made a growling noise before entering the house.
He gave me a once-over, smirked, and tugged me into a hug. “Why do you look like you're about to binge-watch ‘Living Single’ with a tub of ice cream?”
“Shut up.”
We laughed as I ended the hug and shut the door behind him.
“I thought we were going out, Stef. Why are you not getting dressed?”
“It’s still early. Plus, I just woke up.”
“I know you. It’s going to take you about two hours to get dressed.”
“Even if it did, that would still be early, considering where we’re going.”
“Girl, start getting dressed. I’m not about to play with you.”
“Okay. Sheesh. It won’t take me long,” I promised, stretching as I padded toward the bathroom. “Give me twenty minutes. Maybe an hour.”
“I swear you better be in there transforming. I didn't come all this way to hang out with Pajama Barbie.”
“You know you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
While I disappeared into the bathroom, Ronnie made himself at home. I heard the familiar ding of his phone as he started scrolling through whatever was happening on social media, and then his voice floated back toward me.
“Oh, bitch, remind me to tell you about the new chef I hired.”
I peeked around the bathroom door. “You finally found someone?”
“Mmmhmm. And honey, when I say fine? Chile... he’s a hot little Latino with these dimples that could start a cult following.”
I laughed, applying my moisturizer as I looked in the mirror.
“And guess what? He’s bisexual too. And apparently single. I’m telling you, girl, every time I’m near him, I feel like I’m being tested.”
“I know the feeling,” I muttered under my breath.
“What did you say?” Ronnie called out.
“I said tell me more,” I lied.
“He is hot with a capital H. I’m trying to be professional, but I’ve got a feeling he’s going to trigger my inner slut.”
I snorted, pulling my makeup bag closer. “What happened to not playing where you bank?”
“I am trying, okay? Really trying. But every time he smiles, I forget my morals. I swear that man’s mouth was handcrafted by the devil.”
Julian’s lips appeared in my mind. I want you . I closed my eyes and told myself to get it together. This man was living rent-free in my head, and it was becoming a distraction. Like Ronnie, my inner slut was close to being triggered. I hadn’t even realized I had an inner slut.
Opening my eyes, I said, “Don’t do anything you think you’ll end up regretting.” I needed to heed my own advice.
“Please. I'm a professional.” He paused. “Mostly.”
I shook my head, laughing softly to myself. The irony wasn’t lost on me. He was over there fighting temptation, and here I was in the bathroom wondering if I should tell him that I’d spent the afternoon getting off to fantasies of a guy ten years younger than me.
But I didn’t. I knew exactly what Ronnie would say if I did. He’d find my phone, look Julian up on social media, and before I could stop him, he’d be deep in Julian’s Instagram feed, gasping over shirtless photos and plotting ways for us to casually “run into” him again.
The last thing I needed was Ronnie hyping me up to do something I knew I’d regret later. So I kept it to myself. I focused on preparing for our night out.
“Hey, Stef!”
“What’s up?” I called back.
“Since you’ve got this big house to yourself, you should find a hot guy and bring him back to this place and fuck his brains out in this king-size bed.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My mind instantly pictured Julian in my bed with me riding his lips until I’d quenched his thirst. Not today, Satan. I instantly banished that image from my mind.
“Not happening,” I called back. “I didn’t come here to have a one-night stand.”
“Girl, the best one-night stands are the ones you didn’t plan.”
Were they?
“I’m speaking it into existence,” Ronnie called out. “You’re getting laid tonight.”
I wasn’t getting laid tonight, but there was no point in arguing with Ronnie about it. My plan was to drink a little, shake my ass a little, flirt a little, then come back to the house. Alone . That was the plan.
It was around midnight when I realized my night was not going to go as planned.