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  "Fuck, Lena. You are so tight; so tasty," he growled, his face drawn with ecstasy. I moved up and down slowly at first and with each thrust, managed to take more of him in. His hands dug into my ass as he pushed and pulled me onto his cock, grunting and growling erotically.

  Once I’d taken as much of his cock as I could manage, I began twisting my waist in rhythmic circular movements, enjoying the exquisite fullness of his thick cock. He watched my breasts bounce up and down and reached out to squeeze them, pinching and lengthening my nipples gently.

  “This dick is good, baby,” I gasped, slowing down then speeding up, fucking hard and fast.

  "Shit Lena, slow down", he pleaded. I gave him a few hard thrusts then completely pulled him out of me and stood up. He looked shocked that I’d completely stopped and remembering how I’d repeatedly denied him a swift orgasm the other day, he reached out his hand to pull me back. I turned around and straddled him again facing away from him and placing his frantic hands around my waist.

  "Your waist is so tiny and your ass is so round and perfect; I don't think I can ever have enough of you, baby." he said hoarsely.

  I lowered my sex onto his cock and I knew he was watching my ass. I liked that he was watching me as I began to fuck and I put on a show for him, varying my hard and fast movements with shallow circles, tantalizing and teasing his dick with my sex.

  “Do you like my ass, baby?” I panted, “touch it, baby; smack it, play with it,” I commanded, knowing I was going to drive him to insanity. He panted wildly while he grabbed my ass; squeezing it, smacking it and caressing it, thrusting up to stroke me expertly with his dick. His dick was so good, I was groaning with each move I made; letting squeals of pleasure erupt from my throat. I fucked him, skin to skin with wild abandon, touching my clit to spur me onto to orgasm. I felt myself rushing over the precipice, tumbling over the edge, losing my mind as the climax hit me. My sex began to clench and grip his cock as I came.

  "Lena, baby, I'm going to come so fucking hard," he said hoarsely. I tried to get up off him but his hands had gripped my waist and he wasn't letting go, rapidly lifting and pulling me onto his dick. At the last moment, I managed to loosen his grip, turn and rapidly suck his cock just as the first spurts came. I placed both hands on the length of his shaft, jerking him off straight into my sucking mouth as he spasmed repeatedly, crying out my name. His cum had a light salty flavor of pure sex and I relished the taste of him. I was in awe that I could make this beautiful sexy man, a business mogul at the top of his game, lose control in my hands. He jerked up rapidly for several moments groaning in ecstasy as he spurted over and over.

  "Lena, fuck; no more please," he pleaded, pulling me to lie over him and holding me close, while the water cascaded over our entangled bodies.

  Eventually he stirred, kissing me on the head. I’d intended to keep my hair dry but the encounter with Jonathan had made me lose all sense. I tried to smooth my hair back before he got a view of my weave tracks. I wasn't ready for that awkward black versus white chat on black women's hair.

  He sat up while I straddled him with my arms around his neck.

  "Lena; you are so amazing," he said, looking at me with awe.

  "I don't want to hear any more talk about putting an end to this. I'm dead serious," he said, speaking with finality. "Look at how it is when we are together. I've never shared this kind of passion with anyone."

  He kissed me deeply and I smiled back at him. What could I say? Moments like this were not appropriate for starting objections. I still had unanswered questions about our relationship and its future. At that moment my stomach chose to rumble audibly.

  "Let me feed you," he offered, getting up. He gave me one last soft, gentle kiss, then grabbed a towel and was out of the bathroom.

  I finished up and spent a few minutes drying my hair with a towel, then retightening my hair bun.

  I wrapped a towel around me and walked out into the bedroom. Night had fallen and the city lights were twinkling brightly across the city. Jonathan was on the phone discussing work related matters, wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist. I always had to remind myself that he wasn't just the Chief of Business Development, but he was also the presumptive CEO of Strauss Carter.

  His father, James Carter, had inherited the company and built it into a multi-million dollar enterprise, and Jonathan had since transformed it into a multi-billion dollar corporation. His father was already in semi-retirement and only came to the office mornings only.

  When I first joined the company, I’d heard that Jonathan had asked his father not to fully retire yet, because his age and the reputation he’d built added a certain gravitas in ‘old money’ circles which was good for the company when Jonathan had to deal with old, southern millionaires who still called him ‘Jimmy’s boy’. Jonathan was shrewd enough to humor them and called his father into meetings when trust of the younger generation was a factor in closing the deal. He was a marketer through and through, doing whatever was necessary to get that signature.

  So on paper, the patriarch was still leading the company, while Jonathan ruled in reality. When he saw me watching him he walked towards me.

  "Look, let’s get the figures and revisit tomorrow on the flight to Miami," he said to whoever was on the phone and he ended the call without waiting for a response.

  He tossed his phone on the bed then picked me up with his arms around my waist and dropped us together on the bed, dislodging my towel but not his. I squealed when we bounced down on the bed, laughing at his antics. I tightened my towel again and looked up at him leaning on one elbow, looking down at me.

  "Stay tonight," he asked, trailing his fingers up and down my arm.

  "I can't, I don't want to be late for work tomorrow." I noted his disappointment at my answer.

  Just then, the landline phone rang.

  "That must be dinner," he said grabbing his shorts. "Come down stairs, T-shirts are in the walk in closet."

  It took a few minutes for me to find a large white T-shirt that was long enough for me to be an ultra mini dress, then I followed downstairs barefoot. I was starving. I assumed he was in the kitchen and as I headed there, I came to an abrupt stop. Jonathan was standing with his arms crossed in a defensive position. There was a woman with him, a pretty blonde with long wavy hair. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine; the type of woman he’d been linked to in the past. My heart came to a standstill for a moment, then began to beat rapidly. A surge of adrenaline rushed through me, as I thought for a moment whether or not I should go back upstairs before they saw me; but I was too late. As I turned to leave, I heard her speak.

  "Excuse me," she said indignantly, pushing Jonathan out of the way to see me more clearly.

  "Jonathan, who is that?" she asked, pointing rudely at me as though I were a piece of poop.

  "Nadine, it's none of your business. I want you to leave now." he snapped, leading her away from me.

  She burst out laughing; a mirthless, mocking cackle.

  "Jonathan, you have a prostitute in your home?" she asked incredulously, her voice squeaking with disbelief at the end of the sentence.

  The fuck? I wasn't going to take this bull shit from some bitch that don't even know me.

  "Excuse me?" I said walking towards her briskly, getting within an inch of her face.

  "What did you call me, bitch?" I asked with devastating emphasis.

  She took a step back, startled by my aggressive response.

  I turned on Jonathan who was standing there looking shocked at my unexpected reaction.

  "Jonathan, did this cheap thing just call me a prostitute?" I asked him, putting him on the spot.

  Her jaw dropped as she looked from me to Jonathan. We both waited for him to sort out the mess before it got a whole lot worse. My stance showed I was about to do more than talk to this here bitch. I may have grown up in the ‘burbs, but many childhood summers were spent in Watts in South Central LA with my grandparents. M
y Westwood accent was not exactly endearing in Watts, so I’d learnt to unleash my inner ‘hood a few times when I had to stand up for myself.

  "Lena, this is Nadine, a girl I used to date if we can even call it that. I’m not with her anymore, but apparently she still had my access code and she let herself in uninvited. She’s interrogating me about the reported engagement to Isabella. And now she’s about to leave and never come back."

  "And who are you?" interrupted Nadine glaring at me in open disgust. Jonathan took a step in between us and faced her, his face a mask of controlled anger.

  "Nadine, I've already told you, you have no business showing up at my apartment and interrogating my guest."

  His guest? I turned that word over in my mind. He took her arm firmly, walked the few steps towards the front door and opened it, then called up the regular elevators. I followed them and watched as she shook off his arm and stood there defiantly, glaring at me, daring me to do something. I took a menacing step towards her and her defiance seemed to evaporate. She headed into the elevator.

  "Well,” she spat arrogantly, “I guess I’d better leave before I get ghetto stabbed."

  And with that, she pressed the button and the elevator doors closed. Jonathan went back inside the penthouse, snatched the landline phone and dialed 3 digits.

  "George, I had an unwanted guest who I forgot to remove from my unrestricted access list. Please scrap Nadine Bishop from my guest list and delete her access codes. Instruct security to escort her from the building right now. She's on her way down to the lobby. Do it now, damn it." He slammed the phone down and ran his hands through his hair.

  I glared at him for a moment, then without a word, I turned around and headed upstairs. I rapidly began wearing my clothes. By the time Jonathan followed, I was tucking my shirt into my skirt, while slipping my feet into my shoes.

  "Lena, please don't be angry. I'm sorry about what happened."

  Ofcourse I had every right to be angry. I was angry at him and angry at the situation and its implications. So the people in Jonathan's sphere of influence will always see me as a piece of junk they can talk to anyhow?

  "A prostitute?" I asked Jonathan, pausing from tucking in my shirt.

  He stepped closer, his hands lifted to placate me.

  "She was out of line, and I apologize she spoke to you that way."

  I snorted in derision.

  "Ghetto stabbed?"

  I could tell he was mortified, but I was too hurt to see past my indignation.

  "So because I'm black in a white guy's apartment, I must be a hooker, huh?"

  I roughly stuffed my underwear into my purse; I was going commando in protest. I slung my purse over my shoulder and stalked off, thudding my anger on the stairs. Obviously he knew when to shut up. He said nothing and just followed me, his face a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. Without another word, I pressed a button to call the private elevator.

  "Lena, please don't leave like this. We had such a good time; dinner is in the kitchen...”

  He tried to hug me from the back and I pushed him away. I was in self-preservation mode and just wanted to get away.

  The elevator opened then I entered and faced him.

  "Just remember one thing, Mr. Carter,” I said looking him right in the eye. “Do not fuck with me."

  I pressed the B, turned my back to him and the elevator took me down to my car.

  When I arrived home, I was still angry. I kept replaying the incident, wishing and reenacting in my head how it should have gone instead. I imagined myself busting her wide open or calling her something worse; or better still, bashing their heads together. I was angry and frustrated. My hunger had since evaporated, replaced by a foul mood.

  As I got into bed, my cell phone began to play “Don’t Let Go”; Jonathan’s custom ringtone. I canceled the call without answering, feeling short-lived triumph that he’d get a ‘rejected’ pulse-tone in his damn ear. I didn't need to hear his smooth voice just now; he could fuck off for all I care.

  A few moments later, a text pinged.

  “I should never have let you leave like this. I'm sorry. Are you home safe?”

  Clever move. Ask an innocuous question knowing I’ll have to reply.

  “I'm safe.”

  I quickly powered off my phone so he wouldn't call me again. I knew he was going to Miami for a few days and would have wanted to talk before then but I wasn't having it. When that bitch asked him who I was, he could not bring himself to say who I was to him; he only cared to tell me who she was. Hell, even I don't know who I am to him, except an occasional fuck when it's convenient for him.

  As I began to calm down and think through my anger, I realized what was really eating me; his behavior had triggered a familiar scenario from my past with Willis. Jonathan hadn't claimed me as anyone who meant something to him when bitch Nadine asked him; I was merely his ‘guest’. He was ashamed of me. Damn him. I could not rely on such a man and continue to give up my body for him to use for his pleasure. He’s not worthy. We’d just fucked so good and he’d told me that he'd never shared this passion with anyone and wanted to pursue me. And yet when he had a chance to show I meant something, he could not bring himself to say it. He didn't have to say I was his girlfriend or anything like that. He could have said something more meaningful; anything besides his ‘guest’.

  I knew I was contradicting myself and confused about what I wanted from this. Was it an official relationship that would satisfy me? I didn’t know; the only thing that was clear was that nasty bitch left believing I was a prostitute. And now that damned video is going to confirm it for the entire world to see.

  When I arrived at work Wednesday morning, I was still seething. The cons against this relationship had piled up after this humiliating incident. How could I have let myself get into this mess? This time I was getting out of it. I’d been treated as sub-human by a man before and I wasn't going to let it happen again. After he was drafted, Willis had introduced me to people as his friend, as his visitor; anything, but his girlfriend. I’d been down this road of being denied in public before. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what a fool I’d been. He’d gone to Miami; wasn’t Isabella shooting in Miami? Ha! I knew it. He was a damn liar and I’d caught him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I spent all day keeping busy with one presentation and a few meetings with clients. That night I got home by 6pm and decided to make myself a proper dinner. I’d barely eaten the whole day and the previous night I’d missed dinner, after I left Jonathan’s penthouse abruptly. Around 6.30pm in the middle of cooking my meal, I heard Jonathan's custom ping tone for texts that I’d assigned his number.

  “Busy day. Miss you. And you?”

  And me what? And me did I have a busy day or and me did I miss him too? I decided to reply only to the ‘busy day’ part.

  “Yes very busy.”

  A few minutes later he replied.

  “Did you miss me?”

  I responded,

  “I can't miss you, because it's over. Forever this time. I don’t want you anymore. We should see other people.”

  I waited to hear a ping; he didn't reply.

  I was pseudo-glad that perhaps he was finally getting the message, and being away in Miami would give him time to let it sink in before I had to face him in person. But it didn't give me the peace or finality I was hoping for. I knew I still wanted him. The sex was incredible; he was a really amazing lover, considerate in every way. But that was all we had, nothing of more substance as he’d proved when his ex came over and treated me like a piece of shit. It was better to cut my losses now and be hurt now, before I developed deeper feelings for him. I wasn't ready to truly acknowledge what I even felt about him, or the uncertain truth of what he felt about me.

  I cleaned up my kitchen and home as I did every night to save time in the morning, putting leftovers in the fridge and packing a lunch for tomorrow. I took a quick shower, wore a T-shirt and went to bed.
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br />   I woke up with a start. My cell phone on the nightstand was playing “Don’t Let Go”. I glanced at the clock; it was just before 10.30pm at night. Why was Jonathan calling so late?

  "Hi," I answered groggily.

  "Lena, I'm at the door. Let me in."

  Before I could ask which door, he cut the phone. Then it dawned on me; he was at my door. The door to my apartment? While I was figuring out that statement, I heard my door bell ringing, followed by an impatient knock. I was immediately wide awake.

  Fuck. He’s here.

  I jumped out of bed and quickly walked to my front door, still in just my T-shirt and panties. I looked through the peephole and saw him standing there, looking impatient and pissed. Wasn’t he supposed to be in Miami?

  I opened the door a fraction. He was standing there holding his cell phone, dressed in dark jeans, a white, round neck T-shirt and a well cut brown leather jacket. He was looking irritated and beautiful; a lethal combination.

  "Jonathan, what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to look equally irritated.

  "Are you going to let me in?" he demanded, one eyebrow raised sardonically.

  I debated sending him away, until I saw the light go on in my neighbor's apartment. I stepped aside and let him in. He took a cursory look around my apartment while I shut the door; then he turned around to face me, his face looking stern. I’d not expected him to show up, so I felt off balance.

  "Jonathan, would you like a seat?"

  "No I don't," he snapped. "What are you playing at Lena? What do you mean 'it's over'?"

  "Well, I mean this whole 'whatever we are having' can't go on."

  "Why? We already talked about this."

  "I just can't do it anymore, not with your bitches disrespecting me and you doing nothing to defend me."

  "Okay, so this is about Nadine?"

  "It's about the way she spoke to me and the way you acted."

  I was speaking through gritted teeth and for once standing my ground.