“Oh my fucking god! Are you fucking serious? No wonder you couldn’t pay attention to anything I was saying!” he squawks before laughing so hard that he doubles over, one hand to his stomach.

  I slap a hand over my eyes. Jesus fucking Christ. I’m never going to hear the end of this shit. Charlotte is giggling uncontrollably. She is so going to get it for this! When I drop my hand away, Nick is hanging onto the doorframe, still laughing with tears running down his face. “Oh god…I can’t wait…to tell Delilah!” he says between fits of laughter.

  “Fuck me,” I groan, covering my face with both hands this time.

  This is so bad. I can’t believe that she revealed herself. She’s crazy and damn it if I don’t love her for it.

  “I’m gonna go! Leave you to it,” Nick chuckles, making a show of locking the knob before pulling it closed behind him. Good man.

  I glare down at Charlotte. She gives me a sheepish smile and shrugs. My lips twitch. Damn it. She should not be allowed to be so cute. I grab her arms and pull her out from under the desk. I bring her up so that her face is level with mine. I stare into her laughing blue eyes.

  “Now…you are in so much trouble,” I rumble.

  She licks her lips and I watch her eyes darken with desire. “Good.”

  Charlotte

  I watch Calvin’s face. I can see the moment that his control snaps. I gasp as he shoots up out of the chair, bringing me with him. He spins me around and bends me over his desk. He keeps one hand in the middle of my back, holding me down while he uses the other to lift my dress up and over my ass. I try to look over my shoulder, but I can’t really see what he is doing.

  I yelp when his teeth sink into my ass cheek. Not breaking skin, but hard enough to leave a mark, for sure. Shit, that’s hot! One of Calvin’s fingers hooks into the waistband of my thong that he destroyed at dinner and pulls it off completely. I’m panting from the anticipation alone. I can’t help but cry out when I feel his tongue flick my clit.

  “Don’t move,” he demands, his voice low and gruff.

  I grip the edge of the desk as his hand disappears from my back. Then I feel both of his hands on my ass, spreading me apart to give him better access. He tortures me with his tongue for god knows how long. That man has a sinful mouth. I start to squirm a bit needing to feel some sort of friction, earning myself a bite on my other ass cheek. He takes one last long lick from clit to core before I feel him move.

  “Damn baby, you are so wet,” he rasps, running his cock through my drenched folds.

  I whimper and drop my forehead to the desk. I push my ass back, trying to get him to do more, but he gives one cheek a sharp smack.

  “I said don’t move.”

  I can’t stand it anymore.

  “Calvin, please!”

  Without a word, he plunges in deep. I scream as pleasure explodes through me. I clutch the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white. He grabs my hips hard enough to leave bruises as he slams into me over and over.

  One hand leaves my hip and finds my hair. He grabs it and yanks my head back. He leans over me, still pumping his hips and kisses me messily. A guttural noise slips up my throat as my body starts to tingle and tighten.

  “Calvin,” I gasp against his mouth.

  He pushes in even deeper than before, throwing me over the edge. My cry sounds strangled as I feel my body clench around him. He groans, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. With a few final thrusts, he comes hard.

  We both collapse forward, my face smashed against the desk, his forehead between my shoulder blades. We pant and gasp for air.

  “I hope you learned your lesson,” Calvin mumbles behind me.

  “No, I don’t think I did. You’re going to have to teach it to me again.” I giggle.

  I feel him shake his head against my back. “I don’t know why I try, you’ll never learn,” he chuckles.

  I laugh. “Nope.”

  Calvin

  Driving to take Charlotte back to her place in silence - after the most incredible sex - is both comfortable and disconcerting. I reach my arm across the console and rest my hand on her knee. It’s not lost on me that she is no longer wearing any panties. Or that I was buried deep inside her hot, wet pussy no more than ten minutes ago.

  “Well, that went well,” I say, breaking the silence, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

  She places her hand atop mine then squeezes, looking at me with a mixture of a shy and mischievous smile. “Which part?”

  A small laugh escapes. “Good point, Pinks, but I was referring to meeting your parents.”

  “Yeah. I just wish I was feeling better. And what the hell was Tommy wearing? As soon as I got a whiff of him I wanted to throw up.”

  I laugh again. I love being around Charlotte. She is so honest and blunt. It’s nice to be around a woman and not have to guess what she is thinking.

  “I’m sorry you’re not feeling yourself, baby girl. Since dinner went so well, how about as soon as you are up for it, we make plans with my family? They are bugging the shit out of me to meet you already.” This time I give her hand the squeeze.

  She is staring out her window, not saying a word, like she has completely zoned out.

  “Charlotte?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “Did you hear me? I want you to meet my family.”

  “Um…Yeah…I heard. Do you really think that’s a good idea?” she asks, still looking away.

  “Of course I do. Why would you ask that?”

  “I…do you…are you sure they will be okay with me…being white…” she starts to ask, but I cut her off midsentence.

  I raise my hand to her chin and tilt it so that she is looking me right in the eyes when I tell her, “Charlotte, they are going to love you because of you, not because of the color of your skin. My parents are very open minded and accepting. Love is love. Where would you even get that idea?”

  Charlotte looks down, pretending to pick nonexistent lint off her dress. “Aisha.”

  Are you fucking kidding me? She is always so confident and self-assured. I didn’t think that the bullshit Aisha was spouting at her even reached her ears. She didn’t seem that affected by her racist ranting. I thought she was more pissed at the fact that we ran into another ex. Fuck me!

  I pull the car over because I have to make sure what I have to say gets across to her. I unbuckle her seatbelt and grab her by the waist, dragging her into my lap quickly, before she has the time to protest. We lock eyes, and there is no question that she is paying attention. One hand on her cheek, the other stroking her hair, I know what needs to be said. It’s time.

  “Black, white, or yellow. Christian, Jewish, or Buddhist. Doesn’t matter. On your absolute worst day, you are a better woman - a better person - than she could ever wish to be on her best day. There is no comparison. She is not in the same league as you. Not even on the same planet. She knows it, and tried to use the only thing that she could grasp at – your color- and tried to use it as a weapon. But, you, Charlotte Fisher, are perfect, just as you are. Beautiful, intelligent, caring, loyal, honest, funny as hell, and…white. And I love you.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can’t believe that I just said that. Five years with Aisha and I never spoke those three words.

  I open my eyes and she is just staring at me. Shit! I am freaking out. She says nothing.

  “Too much too soon?” I ask nervously. I feel like such a dickhead.

  Charlotte doesn’t say a word, but shakes her head in the negative. She then wraps her tiny hands around my neck, leans forward, and kisses me like her life depends on it. Then much too quickly for my liking, she leans back, both of us completely out of breath, and meets my eyes again. I am saddened momentarily when I notice the tears running down her face. I use my thumbs to wipe the tear tracks, as she leans forward once again and whispers against my lips, “I love you, too.

  Chapter Ten

  Charlotte

  I am so excited for Delilah’s bachelorette party. It has been a crappy few weeks and I have been in a funky mood. Calvin probably thinks I am chronically PMS’ing, but I’m not. He also probably thinks that I have been avoiding meeting his parents, but I honestly haven’t. I can’t help it if every time we are supposed to go to their house for dinner I get sick. It’s not like I am doing it on purpose, like I enjoy feeling this way. I can’t seem to shake this damn virus. I am finding it increasingly more difficult to stomach my meals, and what does go down, doesn’t usually stay down. It’s making me tired and irritable.

  On top of dealing with all of that, I found out that DeShawn’s parole was actually granted. Can you believe that shit? Anyway, when my dad told me, I started to freak out. But he reassured me a little when he told me that he was on house arrest and was only permitted to leave to go to work, court, or to a doctor. Even then, he needed permission from his parole officer. Oh, and I have a permanent restraining order against him so he can’t come within 500 feet of me, my home, or my work. Still, I have been having trouble shaking the nervous feeling in my gut, and I guess I have been taking it out on everyone around me, including Calvin. But the buck stops here, tonight. It is time for me to have fun again and live my life to the fullest.

  Calvin is sitting in my living room watching TV while I finish getting ready. I am almost dressed when I hear him shout, “Let’s go, woman! What’s taking so long?”

  “I am working on it! It’s takes time to look this good,” I holler back.

  I am actually almost ready. I am wearing my favorite black skinny jeans and a black corseted top with hot pink laces, which make my boobs look awesome. And a little bigger than usual. Hmm. No complaints about that. I am completely dressed, except for my pants. Well, they are on, just not buttoned. They are a little tight and I want to wait until the last minute to button them. I must have put them in the dryer by accident. Either that or I have gained a few pounds. If that’s the case, then we are going to have to stop eating out so much, and I have to start running again. Come to think of it, when was the last time I went for a run?

  I go about finishing my mascara, the last thing that needs to be done before I zip up and we can get out of here. I reach down to button my pants, and …no go. Not happening. I try a few more times sucking in my stomach, straightening my back, sticking out my boobs. Nope, not gonna happen. I have one more idea.

  I go to my bed and lie down on my back. This has to work! I struggle again to button my jeans and I still can’t do it. I am literally fighting with them to get them closed. My knees now bent, ass off the bed, straining. Moaning. Groaning. That’s when Calvin decides to join the fun. He is leaning on the doorframe, hands in pocket, legs crossed at his ankles, sexy as sin smirk on his face. Damn, he is fine!

  “What is going on in here?” he asks with that damn smile on his face.

  “Stop being a creepy peeper and help me!”

  Calvin laughs, shaking his head, pushes off the doorframe, and heads toward me. Stalks toward me, actually. Like a predator coming upon hurt prey.

  “Stop looking at me like you are going to eat me and help me button these damn things,” I say snarkily, unable to hide my smile.

  “What do you need me to do, Pinky? I am more accustomed to taking clothes off you, not helping to put them on.” He is so sexy at that moment that I actually consider skipping the party and tackling him to the bed. I can feel my thong dampen and I am beyond aroused. But I know Delilah would kill me if I missed her bachelorette party. Especially since I planned most of it.

  I take a deep breath and Calvin grabs the top of my pants and smashes them together, the hole finally gets close enough to the button that I can slide it through. I do some contortionist position to get the zipper up and then flop back down. Holy hell, I can barely breathe.

  Calvin stares down at me and our eyes lock. I have no idea what he is thinking, but it looks serious. I look away first, not really wanting to go there tonight. I try to sit up, but once again, I need to ask Calvin for help. He grabs my arms and pulls, and I come up off the bed stiff as a board, unable to bend my midsection.

  I go to grab my favorite leopard print stilettos with the hot pink heals, which match my corset perfectly, but I can’t bend over to reach them. Calvin watches me struggle, then bends to get them for me mumbling something about damn women and fashion. I just smile and thank him for helping me. I give myself one more once-over in the mirror before leaving my bedroom. That’s when it happens. I get a good look at my ass. Holy shit! When did that happen? Calvin must see the grimace on my face. He closes his eyes, knowing what’s coming next. The one question every man dreads to hear.

  “Hey, honey?”

  “Yeah, baby girl?” he asks hesitantly. He knows it’s coming. Here it comes. Wait for it…

  “Does my ass look big in these jeans?”

  “Yes,” he states matter-of-factly.

  “What?” I shriek.

  Calvin sidles up behind me, us both looking in the mirror. He wraps his arms around my waist and pumps his rock hard cock in my ass. “This is what that ass of yours does to me,” he whispers in my ear, then nibbles on my lobe. “I like a little extra junk in your trunk,” he adds, smoothing a hand down my rump.

  I shiver at the sensuality of it all, but it is not enough to distract me from the fact that my man just told me that I have a fat ass. My man, sigh. “I can’t believe you just told me that I have a big ass!”

  He gives me a mischievous smile in the mirror, and then spins me around in his arms quickly. He looks me dead in the eyes, like he is about to tell me something really serious. “Come on, baby, you know my anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun.”

  I lean my head back and let out a loud laugh. I can’t believe this man. I point my finger into his chest and tell him, “You, my friend, are insane.”

  Now I know he has lost his mind because he makes a “cuckoo” motion with his finger near his head, bounces up and down, and sings out, “insane in the membrane, insane in the brain.”

  “You have lost your ever freaking mind.”

  “Y’all gonna make me lose my mind. Up in here, up in here,” he sings out raising his arms like he is raising the roof.

  I just can’t. There are no words.

  “If you are done cataloging the most overplayed hip hop songs from the 90s, maybe we can get out of here and get our own groove on?”

  Calvin lets out a loud bark of a laugh, and I can’t help but smile at him. He really is the most gorgeous man that I have ever seen, but when he smiles and laughs like that, my heart just melts.

  “Just one question before we go,” he says.

  “Okay…”

  “Who?” is all he asks.

  “Who, what?” I ask back, confused as all hell.

  “Who let the dogs out, woof woof!” he goes on pumping his fist in the air like he is in Arsenio’s dog pound.

  I just shake my head and walk toward the dog, ready to leave his stuck-in-the-90s ass behind. “Let’s go Marky Mark. The funky bunch is waiting for us.”

  With that, Calvin scoops me up and carries me out to the car, and all I can do is laugh at this delicious man. Smiling inside, knowing that he is mine.

  Charlotte again…

  Weekends fly by so quickly. Why is that? I mean, the week just drags and drags and drags. But as soon as it’s Friday, BOOM, it’s Monday again. And when the days are busy, it ends even quicker. I am complaining, of course, because it is Monday and I am stuck at work when I would rather be home lazing around. Things have been really slow here, except for a few unusual hang-ups, so I find myself daydreaming a lot. I still get a good laugh when I think about the bachelor/ette party a few weeks ago.

  The party went off without a hitch…mostly. Okay, I think it was perfect, with the exception of me getting sick from the champagne. One damn sip and I was puking. I don’t know if it was the smell or what, but man did it wreak havoc on me. Anyway, other than that, I think it was awesome, but Nick may disagree. You see, before they decided to make it a joint party, I had decided that I was going to get a stripper for Delilah. Mainly because I knew it would embarrass the shit out of her. I also thought it would be good entertainment for the rest of us gals. I scoured the internet for different companies that offered “rent-a-stripper,” and when I came across this one, there was no other choice. No turning back. The Italian Stallion was his stage name, and he had Delilah written all over him.

  So, anyway, when they decided to make it a joint party, and Calvin told me that I can invite whomever I wanted, the Italian Stallion made the top of my list. What ensued once he arrived was completely out of my control. I am going to skip all the usual stuff – the pranks, the drinking, the name-calling, the dancing, and the groping – and just tell you about the good stuff. That being, of course, the Italian Stallion.

  Picture this... Nick getting dry humped by a buff, mostly naked, man. Of course, several events led up to this, so I will have to go back for a moment. When it was time for the stripper to come out, we sat Nick and Delilah in the middle of the dance floor on chairs. As a precaution, I tied Nick’s hands behind his back because I wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to react, and Iooking back, I am so glad that I did. I’m sure he knew that I was getting a stripper for Delilah, that’s why he complied. What he didn’t know, was that I paid the stripper double to grind his balls all over Nick.

  When the Italian Stallion came out, and did his little stripper dance number, I was lucky that Nick was restrained. He looked like he was about to put the kibosh on the whole thing when Delilah started slipping singles into the guy’s briefs. Once the Italian Stallion had his fill of Delilah, he gave her a wink and a kiss on the cheek before making his way over to Nick. Nick’s eyes widened when he realized what was about to happen. He yelled and screamed for someone to release him. Everyone was laughing, even the Italian Stallion as he rubbed his ass against Nick’s crotch. The stripper twerked in Nick’s lap for a moment before turning around shoving his Italian salami in Nick’s face. Calvin and Parker were literally on the floor hysterical laughing. The final straw was when Delilah stuck dollars in the collar of Nick’s shirt so that the stripper could take them out with his teeth. Nick swore a bloody horrible death on me, but it was so worth it.