Roselle reached for Brenda, but she swatted his arm away.

  “No. My mother, though not perfect, loved that man. But—guess what? That wasn’t enough and the minute he’d had enough, the minute he became bored, he packed his shit and left her. He walked out on me and my sisters for another woman—a white woman!” She swiped a fresh string of tears from her cheeks. “So excuse me, motherfucker, if I have an issue with you fucking some white bitch!”

  “But, baby, I didn’t walk out on you for one,” Roselle offered softly.

  Brenda glared at him, her nose flaring. “The moment you stuck your dick in one, you might as well had.”

  Twenty-Four

  Desire . . .

  Coveting, craving—those were things attached to desire.

  It was a life force. It was the strong sense of wanting something, needing something, longing for something, even when that which was longed for was not necessarily good for us. And yet many would still indulge themselves. Feed their libidos. Quench their lust. And then . . .

  Want more.

  It was desire that moved us. It motivated us. And gave us direction. And in that desire, there was purpose, one not always met with meaning.

  Yet the yearning, that burning sensation, that thirst for fulfillment, could oftentimes become consuming and overwhelming.

  Oh, yes. Desire.

  It could be dirty. It could be sinful. It could be as painful as it was pleasurable.

  And Dr. Dangerfield knew that, in excess, desire could ultimately become greed. And greed (the pursuit of new desires) was destructive. It was insatiable. It was damaging to any relationship—healthy or not—if not tempered by self-restraint and boundaries. It prevented partners from enjoying one another, fully, wholly, without limits, without shame, without regret.

  It was greed that kept partners lying and scheming and cheating on one another. And it was repressed urges that kept men and women hiding behind masks, living double lives.

  Not all. Many.

  Dr. Dangerfield believed that sometimes you had to surrender to your desires. Indulge yourself. With the one you loved, the one you committed yourself to.

  What healthy relationships needed was for both parties to be the object of their partner’s desires. Sadly, most weren’t. Most were distracted by the yearnings for everything else except for what was already standing before them—their partners.

  And, today, Dr. Dangerfield planned to explore the innermost desires of the women. If they were ready and able to be honest—first, with themselves; and then here—then they could work toward being more open and honest with their husbands about what their sexual needs were. What they desired most.

  Dr. Dangerfield didn’t believe women should have to sublimate their desire, their pleasure to the pleasures of the men in their lives.

  No. A woman’s desires were real. They were alive. And they evolved.

  Sadly, many women didn’t know what they truly desired . . . for themselves.

  She took in the three women seated in the four-chair circle. The room was alit with coconut-scented candles. The atmosphere was relaxed, for the moment. But Dr. Dangerfield was no fool. She knew all too well that today’s session could evoke defenses and flare tempers. Someone was bound to become judgmental and/or belligerent. Someone always did.

  “I wish this island had better cell service,” Brenda randomly stated.

  Dr. Dangerfield nodded, knowingly. Having a weak signal meant being forced to focus on their partners and their marriages more than making phone calls or connecting on social media. It was by design. The whole point of being on a remote island was to get away from day-to-day stressors and distractions.

  LaQuandra laughed. “Hell, I’m glad there’s shitty service. That makes it harder for Isaiah’s trifling-ass baby mother to reach him.”

  Brenda laughed along. “Girrrl. I’m so glad I don’t have one of those to deal with.”

  “Lucky you,” LaQuandra stated flatly. “That bitch irks my soul.”

  “Ladies,” Dr. Dangerfield said gently. “Let’s refrain from using the B-word, especially when referring to another woman.”

  LaQuandra rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s what she is. But okay.”

  Dr. Dangerfield forced a smile. She wanted to find something likeable about this woman, but so far the only thing she liked was the silver cuff bracelet on her wrist.

  “I’ll thank you now for your efforts,” Dr. Dangerfield said to LaQuandra. She shifted in her seat, then crossed her right leg over her left. “Today, the focus is on each of you. I want to tap into your desires. Hidden or not. They can be as filthy or as slutty as you want them to be. The purpose here is to get you talking about them, without shame, without guilt, without ridicule. To embrace your sexual desires, own them, without justification.”

  Dr. Dangerfield glanced around the small circle of women taking in their facial expressions. Krista met her gaze with a blank look on her face, while Brenda and LaQuandra looked eager to share.

  “How about we start with you, Mrs. Woods?” she suggested.

  Brenda smiled. Good. She couldn’t wait to share one of her sexual fantasies. She was in touch with her wants and needs and desires, so sharing was fine with her.

  She’d indulged in a ménage à trois, once. She’d offered Roselle another woman in their bed—a sexy Latina with big, bouncy tits and thick hips, who’d done nasty things to the both of them with her tongue.

  She wanted more. More tongues. More hands. More fingers.

  “I fantasize about being in an orgy,” Brenda shared.

  “Okay,” Dr. Dangerfield said. “Tell us what is happening in this orgy.”

  Brenda subconsciously licked her lips. “Well. There are about eight to ten men, naked and horny. Their hard dicks, long and thick—and even short fat ones . . .”

  LaQuandra cringed inwardly at the idea of a short fat dick trying to enter her. She wouldn’t dare let some stumpy-dick man fuck her. Her pussy probably wouldn’t get wet, anyway, she mused. Then, again, lies. Right about now, she’d practically beg a stumpy-dick fucker to poke her untouched slit, give her a good teasing, with its head, because that’s all it would be—a tease. Shit. Some attention from a hard dick, itty-bitty or not, would be better than nothing at all. She was tired of using her fingers and her dildo.

  “One after the other, the men are fucking me, giving it to me real good,” Brenda continued, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She felt her body begin to heat as she shared her desire to be the only woman surrounded by men who took turns ravishing her cunt, her mouth, and, maybe, even her ass. Each dick pushing against her inner walls, filling her, testing her, thrusting wildly, hammering inside her until she screamed out.

  She would be fucked hard and deep until her body burned and stretched and gushed wet fire, her orgasm white-hot and blinding.

  “And then when they’re all done taking turns with me,” Brenda said. “I lie on my back, my hand between my legs, playing with my raw pussy, while they circle me, jerking their wet, sticky dicks.” Brenda licked her lips again. “Simultaneously, they grunt and come, coating me with load after load after load of white, creamy nut—in my face, in my opened mouth, on my breasts, all over my stomach, and over my throbbing pussy. When they are done, I am soaked in cum.”

  Ooh, I knew I would like this one, Dr. Dangerfield mused as she regarded Brenda’s fantasy. “Sounds like what you desire is a gangbang. Not an orgy.”

  Ugh. LaQuandra made a face. Ooh, this bitch is nasty. However, she knew she didn’t have room to judge after all the random fucking she’d done in her life.

  Brenda smiled, then licked over her lips. “Yes. A gangbang.”

  Krista grunted. “Mmph. Why would any decent woman want to be in some filthy group sex mess?”

  “What Mrs. Woods seeks isn’t group sex,” Dr. Dangerfield declared. “Group sex—or as it’s typically referred to as, an orgy—is where there are several participants performing a variety of sexual acts while sexual acts are being performed on them as well. There is often sharing or swapping happening between them as well; however, in a gangbang, several people perform sexual acts on only one person, either taking turns or at the same time.”

  Krista frowned. What a filthy heathen. It sounded nasty, but she kept her opinion to herself.

  “Thank you for sharing that very sexy scenario with us.” Dr. Dangerfield uncrossed her legs, then crossed them at the ankles. “What about you, Mrs. Lewis. Would you like to share with us what you desire, sexually?”

  “Wellllll,” LaQuandra said, tooting her glossed lips. “Mine isn’t quite as kinky as this one’s”—she flicked a finger over at Brenda—“but since you’ve asked. I’ve never, ever, cheated on Isaiah. And, honestly, I would probably never even consider it if things between us were different. But they aren’t . . .” She paused, taking a breath. “Just once, I want to cheat on him. I wanna have sex with a man I don’t know, and would never see again. A stranger. I want him to ravish my body, do me in ways Isaiah has never dared.”

  “So, you want him to watch?” Brenda wanted to know. “Now that would be some sexy shit.”

  LaQuandra wanted a wild night of uninhibited sex. Just one night of reckless abandon. Maybe she’d feel better. Maybe she’d be able to forgive Isaiah for sneaking off with that trifling bitch, Cassandra.

  She shook her head. “Oh, God, no. Isaiah would never go for that.”

  “So, would you rather he walked in and caught you in the act?” Dr. Dangerfield questioned.

  If she were a scandalous bitch, she’d fuck one of his brothers or, maybe, his sixty-five-year-old father. She’d heard he had a big, juicy dick. But she wasn’t that kind of woman. Well—okay… not anymore. And, besides, she didn’t want to hurt Isaiah like that. Sharing her body with another man was more for her. She wanted validation that she was desirable. She wanted to feel sexy and wanted; something Isaiah had failed to do over the last several months; maybe even longer if she were willing to be completely honest with herself.

  “No. I want it to be my own little dirty secret,” LaQuandra confessed. “You know, something I can keep to myself. I need to be able to look Isaiah in his face with a smile, knowing I gave someone else a taste of what he thinks, what he still believes, is his and his alone.”

  Dr. Dangerfield understood. “What if I told you that Passion Island is all about delivering the most sensually intimate experiences, and can help you turn that fantasy into a reality? Would you still want to explore it?”

  Would she?

  Could she?

  She’d given up all of her whoring ways once she’d snagged Isaiah. Yes. She’d changed her ways. She’d hung her whore hat up and burned her ho-card, vowing to never let another man touch her body or slide between her thighs as long as she had Isaiah.

  But where had that gotten her?

  LaQuandra’s pulse raced at the possibility. Just once. What could be the harm in that? What Isaiah didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Right?

  She pursed her lips, contemplating. The thought fanned a small spark of excitement through her. “Yes,” she pushed out. “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  Dr. Dangerfield smiled. “You’ll need to think it through, very carefully,” she warned. “Because once you step through that door, there’s no turning back once the deed is done.”

  “I know,” LaQuandra murmured. “I’m clear. I want it. No”—she shook her head—“I need it in more ways than one.” And then she chuckled. “Whew, is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?”

  “No, girl,” Brenda said. “It’s definitely not you. All this talk about fantasies, I’m so ready to get back to my husband.” She laughed. “I’m gonna tear his ass up.”

  Krista couldn’t believe her ears. These bitches were scandalous. The point of being here was to strengthen their relationships not fantasy-fuck other men behind their husbands’ backs, wasn’t it? She was too through.

  Dr. Dangerfield sensed Krista’s apprehensiveness. She smiled over at her.

  “Mrs. Evans, why don’t you tell us what you desire most?”

  Krista straightened her back. Ran a hand through her hair. Then shifted in her seat. “The only thing I want is for Kendall and I to grow closer in Christ.”

  Krista had attended church sporadically over the years, but a year ago, she’d rejoined church and had decided to live a more Christian-like life. Unfortunately, Kendall hadn’t been onboard to turn his life over to Christ, but she was hopeful that one day he would see the light.

  Dr. Dangerfield kept her expression neutral. Hadn’t she been paying attention? Perhaps she’d misunderstood the question, she reasoned as she offered a hint of a smile.

  “I think that’s great. But, sexually speaking,” Dr. Dangerfield pushed, “is there anything you desire, anything you fantasize about, that your husband isn’t aware of?”

  Krista shook her head, indicating no.

  “Nothing?” Brenda probed.

  “No,” Krista insisted.

  LaQuandra grunted. “Krissy, stop lying. We all adults here; let your hair down and keep it real.”

  Krista frowned. “Um. I don’t know what you are implying, but I am keeping it real.” She shifted in her seat. “Not to discuss my private life, but I’m very pleased sexually.”

  LaQuandra gave Krista an amused look. “Some of the biggest freaks are hiding up in the church behind a Bible,” she said half-jokingly. “I bet you sit up in the pew with the Church Mother.”

  Krista scowled. “I’m in church for the word; nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Do you think it’s ladylike for a woman to give her man head?” Brenda asked inquisitively. Krista didn’t look like the type to swallow, so she was curious to know.

  Krista shrugged. “Women can do whatever they want with their men. I only know what I’m doing. And that’s not going down on a man around the clock.”

  Brenda gave Krista an incredulous look. “What? You mean to tell me you don’t give your husband head? Ever?”

  LaQuandra laughed. “Girl, you know Krissy isn’t playing head doctor. She doesn’t even swallow. Who you know not sucking her man and not swallowing?”

  Krista narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to discuss what I do or don’t do with my husband.”

  “Well, do you at least enjoy getting head?” Brenda asked.

  Krista frowned. “No.”

  Brenda and LaQuandra both gave her a sorrowful look. She had no idea what she was missing.

  “Why?” LaQuandra asked.

  Krista felt herself becoming annoyed. Why the hell was she being interrogated, while the therapist sat there and said nothing?

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she said in a razor-sharp tone.

  LaQuandra grunted. “Mmph. You’re right. It isn’t any of my business. I don’t care, anyway, because—truthfully—you sound a bit—no, a whole lot—prudish. No disrespect, hun.”

  Brenda eyed LaQuandra over the top of her sunglasses. Then tilted her head, just so, and pursed her lips. She was glad she’d said it and it hadn’t come from her. She liked Krista, with her ole churchy-acting ass.

  Krista looked indignant. Prudish? Oh these nasty bitches had her all kinds of twisted. “Come again, sweetie,” she said. “I screw my husband at least three times a week—and most weekends twice in the same damn day. I give him good loving, okay. And, no, I don’t have to put my mouth on his dick to do it.” She pointed over at LaQuandra. “If you enjoy sucking your husband’s dick, sweetie, then suck on.”

  “Yes, honey. I love sucking his dick,” LaQuandra admitted. “And? Maybe you should learn to love having a dick in your mouth, too. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so uptight.”

  Krista half laughed, half scoffed. “Well, since you’re the expert in dick sucking and spicing things up in the bedroom, how about you tell us how that’s working out for you, since your husband hasn’t screwed you in months, remember?” She tilted her head, and waited. LaQuandra wanted to leap out of her seat and punch this pudgy bitch in her fat neck, but she willed herself still in her seat, and simply crossed her legs.

  After all, she was a lady.

  “Please, ladies,” Dr. Dangerfield finally interrupted. “No judging. And let’s refrain from abusive language. This is a safe zone, for all of you. And everyone is entitled to her opinions, but that does not give anyone the right to judge or criticize.”

  LaQuandra huffed. “I wasn’t judging her. All I did was state an observation. She is uptight.”

  Krista eyed LaQuandra nastily, and LaQuandra stared back.

  Before the two women tore her office up, Dr. Dangerfield stepped in. “Mrs. Evans, you seem offended that Mrs. Lewis would say—or should I say, suggest—that you sound, operative word . . . prudish. Would you like to share why that is?”

  “Yes, Krista,” LaQuandra said sweetly. Too sweetly. Flies were suddenly swarming all around her. “Please share.”

  “I have nothing more to say.” Krista stood to her feet. “You ladies have a good day. I’m done.” And with that she walked out, leaving a sudden chill lingering in the air behind her.

  Twenty-Five

  Who the fuck does that ghetto bitch think she is? Calling me prudish?

  Bitch, bye.

  Krista couldn’t believe how angry she’d become over one simple word. But she was. And she now had a pounding headache. Maybe it wasn’t so much being called prudish that had bothered her most. No. It was the fact that that bitch, LaQuandra, had tried to be messy. And that was one thing Krista couldn’t stand—some messy-ass bitch.

  So what if she wasn’t some dick-sucking cum-eater, like she was. If LaQuandra wanted to fellate, then so be it. She could suck a dick until her damn jaw broke off. But that didn’t mean she had to. No. Hell, no! She knew how to satisfy her husband. Well, shit. She thought she did. But lately, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Still, she wasn’t about to do any nasty-ass tongue tricks just to keep him, either.