Chapter 2
I t w a s a Friday night, and my apartment smelled like a bad decision waiting to happen…
and I fucking loved it. Music played low from the Bluetooth speaker on my vanity.
Of course, it was Tink humming about being tired of the cap and lies, dealing with men who weren’t worth the energy, and I felt her deeply.
In my bedroom, I stood in front of my full-length mirror, admiring myself.
I wore a sheer black robe tied loosely at the waist with nothing but my lingerie underneath.
I had on the “come fuck me” bra. You know, the one that lifted my titties just right and had those extra little straps across the top that made men forget their vows and women take notes.
The matching panties were damn near disrespectful.
A thin, black g-string that disappeared between my cheeks and left nothing to the imagination.
I had no business looking this damn good for a man that didn’t even belong to me.
But here I was. Lip gloss shining, lace front flawlessly bone straight, edges laid, and my freshly waxed pussy throbbing with anticipation.
I held my phone between my shoulder and cheek while listening to my best friend laugh in my ear. “Girl, you shaved for this man again?” Shonica asked.
“I did not shave, I waxed. Don’t play with me,” I said, switching legs. “And yes. I told you, he got that kind of dick. Like…melt-in-your-mouth dick.”
Shonica groaned. “He’s married, Tae. Don’t forget that part.”
“I never forget. I see the tan line on his ring finger every time he’s about to grab me by the neck.”
She gasped. “Bitch!”
I laughed. “I’m just saying. He might be off limits, but he’s worth the tiredness I feel at work afterwards.”
“You’re going straight to hell. I’m talking express lane. No stops.”
“Don’t care,” I said with a shrug. “The devil is just gonna have to scoot over. I’m tryna catch this backshot blessing first.”
Shonica cackled. “You are so damn stupid. Why don’t you just get yourself a man who’s available?”
“Because men are only good for one thing, and barely that,” I said, turning sideways to admire the way my hips filled out the panties.
“I’m thirty-one, Shon. I work like a damn dog, pay my own bills, do my own oil changes, file my own taxes, and never ask anybody for shit.
I don’t need a man. I need a nut… or five. ”
“Whew. I’m writing that down for your future autobiography.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, pulling my robe closed. “Anyway, I gotta go. He said he’d be here by ten, and it’s already nine-twenty. I need to set the vibe.”
She snorted. “Bye, hoe.”
“Bye, bitch.” I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed. I spritzed myself with Valentino perfume on my wrists, neck, and thighs. Then, I walked into the living room to fluff the couch pillows and hit the lights.
Travis liked it dark because, according to him, it helped him forget who he was for a while.
I didn’t ask questions. I knew the drill.
He was married, older, fine as hell, with a salt-and-pepper beard and a body like he used to play football in the early 2000s.
We met at a conference my agency hosted last year, and one thing led to another…
now he calls me his “escape.” I wasn’t proud of it but I wasn’t turning down good dick either.
Just as I was lighting the last candle on my coffee table, my phone started ringing from the bedroom. I walked over, hips swaying in a way that didn’t even make sense for a woman alone in her apartment, and picked it up.
No heart emoji, no saved photo, just the single letter. I answered on the second ring. “Hey. You on the way?” There was silence on the other end for a second too long. “Travis?” I said again, wrapping one arm around my waist.
“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low and tight like he was whispering. “I can’t come tonight.”
I froze. “What?”
“I can’t. Something came up. My wife… she’s not feeling well. I gotta stay in.”
I blinked. “You’re telling me this… now?”
“I know. I’m sorry, baby. I really am. I was about to head out, but… she asked me to stay with her. Look, I gotta go.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek. “After all that talk earlier? The nasty shit you were saying on the phone all week? You got me over here waxed, scented, slicked, and ready like I’m filming a damn scene in a porno!”
“I said I’m sorry, Tae,” he whispered. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
Click.
I stood there staring at the phone like it owed me the back-to-back orgasms instead of Travis’s ass. My stomach dropped with a mix of rage, disappointment, and straight-up sexual frustration.
Oh, hell no.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and marched into the kitchen to pour a shot of Patron. I guzzled it and poured another. My pussy was still throbbing. That man had me running hot all day, and now he wanted to cancel like I was some casual plan to reschedule? How dare he?
I leaned against the counter, staring down into my shot glass like it might offer me divine guidance. And then the idea hit me. I set the glass down, grabbed my phone again, and opened the QuickieDrop app.
It was initially made for groceries and emergency convenience store runs, but they had this new “intimate goods” category. It was discreet and promised delivery in thirty minutes or less, depending on the location.
I scrolled past the condoms and lubes until I found a pretty little pink and chrome number with five-star reviews.
The Thrustinator 3000 – Dual Action, Deep Stroke, Clit + G-Spot Vibration.
I smirked and tapped “Add to Cart.” Then I took a deep breath and looked around my quiet ass apartment like… well, now what?
The candles were still burning, the lace was still laced, and I still had a whole bottle of Patron. I wasn’t about to sit here all dressed up for no damn reason. My body was still humming like a lit stove burner, and there was no turning that shit off now.
I opened a cabinet, grabbed a bag of kettle popcorn, and tossed it in the microwave. The silence made the popping sound feel louder than it should’ve, but I didn’t care. I was in a mood. The kind of mood where “I don’t need a man, I just need a nut” felt like both a mantra and a threat.
While the popcorn popped, I grabbed my laptop from the coffee table and typed in my usual XXX site. I wasn’t new to this. I had a private tab, a playlist, and a whole saved folder titled “Don’t Judge Me.”
I clicked on a video called “BBC Blows Her Back Out – 4K Creaming Ebony.” I’d seen it twice already, but the man in it had a thick dick, deep voice, and deep strokes that made you question your birth control.
He looked like he did pushups for fun and I loved how he ate pussy like it came with a check. I let it load while I poured a glass of Patron and lemonade over ice and grabbed the now-steaming popcorn bag from the microwave.
I settled into the couch, wrapped a throw blanket around my legs, and pressed play.
Within minutes, moans filled the room, and I leaned my head back with a sigh.
The woman on screen was damn near crying already, and I understood.
Fully. I let the tequila warm me up from the inside and reached for a handful of popcorn just as the man flipped her over and grabbed a fistful of her ass.
Right on cue, my phone buzzed. I reached for it lazily, assuming it was some promo alert or spam text. That is, until I saw it was from the QuickieDrop app.
I blinked, sat up a little, and reread the message. Then came another one.
A small laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. Not him texting me jokes about my damn dildo. I shook my head, opened the message thread and replied.
A few seconds passed. I pressed pause on the porn as the woman started screaming into a pillow. Then another message popped up.
I raised my eyebrows. Oh?
I bit my lip and glanced toward the door, locking my phone. The Patron was catching up to me, and now this stranger had jokes and BDE through the app like he knew what the hell he was doing. My phone buzzed in my hand again.
I stared at the screen, heart thudding low in my chest like the bass in a strip club.
I wasn’t sure if I was impressed, intrigued, or just tipsy.
Maybe all three. Either way… I muted the porno, straightened my robe, and stood by the door.
Because suddenly, this wasn’t about the damn toy anymore. It was about who was delivering it.