Read Online My Best Friend and My Man by Cydney Rax - Free Book Online
Authors: Cydney Rax
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I snap.
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“So get back to work.”
“Okay,” he tells me, but he weakly licks my clit and I can tell he’s not giving his best effort.
“Whatsa matter, Darren? Why aren’t you concentrating? Don’t be wasting my time.”
“Why you bitching, Demetria? I’m doing the best I can. I always bring my A-game.”
“You can show me better than you can tell me.”
“Well, if you keep talking like that my dick won’t stay hard, so remember you gotta help me help you.”
I push his head from between my thighs and laugh. “How’s that for helping you? What you don’t seem to remember is I shouldn’t have to do any work at all. I mean, it’s not like you’re tearing me off with any cash, so…”
“Hey, I told you I’m working on that. Lay off will you? Damn.”
“Don’t raise your voice at me, Darren Foster.”
His brown eyes narrow, and I can tell he doesn’t appreciate me talking to him the way I am.
“You know me, Darren,” I say in a softer, apologetic tone. “I hate excuses. Either bring it on or keep it moving.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” I can tell he’s still miffed at me, which is good, actually.
I manage to stand and go to my walk-in closet to get my silk robe, wrapping it around me and pulling the belt tightly.
“Well, that’s a mood killer,” Darren says. “What time is it anyway?”
“Almost three. Damn, my back is hurting.”
Darren’s cell rings again. He gives me another stupid look.
“I know you ain’t answering—”
“I am not answering, just looking. Demetria, chill out for once.”
“You know what? I’m getting really sleepy. Do you remember how to let yourself out?”
“You want me to leave?” He has a fragile, hurt sound in his voice, but I wait for him to come back to me.
When he does, I look squarely in his beautiful eyes and I gently tell him, “You seem like you have other things going on, Darren, and I don’t want to stand in the way of you taking care of your business. So do what you need to do. If you wanna hook back up tonight just hit me on the cell and I’ll see if I can make that happen.”
He stares at me for five minutes until he gets sick of me ignoring him, then he heads toward the door, zipping up his jeans.
I bite my bottom lip and wonder if he can read the yearning that swims wildly in my eyes. I know I’m acting cold, but it’s ’cause I gotta be. What I want more than anything is for him to come back in and hold me until we both fall asleep.
—7—
S EAPHES
I love to fuck and I’m good at it. Not bragging. The truth. A lot of men brag about being good in bed, but this is how to know for sure. If a man fucks a woman one time and never has to call her again, that’s when you know you’re good. If you fuck her right, she’ll be calling you damn near every weekend saying, “Hey, my DVD player is acting up, can you swing by? I won’t keep you long.” Interpretation: my stuff needs to be sucked, you want to lick it?
Oh, believe me, I’ve heard it all. I put it on these women just one time, and all of a sudden, their car needs an oil change, their refrigerator is leaking. “My cable is acting funny,” they say. You get the picture. These women couldn’t care less about getting stuff fixed—they just want to fuck. They want a skilled man to love ’em like they’ve never been loved before. Young, old, tight body, tens, banged-up faces, don’t matter. All women want a man to hold ’em at night, to listen to them bitch about their problems, a man who will be there to rescue them if they’re stranded on the side of the road.
Problem is, I don’t want to be the fix-it guy anymore. I think it’s about time I settled down and pick the
one
. You know, the one woman in the world who captures your heart in such a way that you ain’t thinking about being with anybody else. Just her.
Truth be told, I’ve been there before. Twice. I’ve met two women in my lifetime who caught
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“So get back to work.”
“Okay,” he tells me, but he weakly licks my clit and I can tell he’s not giving his best effort.
“Whatsa matter, Darren? Why aren’t you concentrating? Don’t be wasting my time.”
“Why you bitching, Demetria? I’m doing the best I can. I always bring my A-game.”
“You can show me better than you can tell me.”
“Well, if you keep talking like that my dick won’t stay hard, so remember you gotta help me help you.”
I push his head from between my thighs and laugh. “How’s that for helping you? What you don’t seem to remember is I shouldn’t have to do any work at all. I mean, it’s not like you’re tearing me off with any cash, so…”
“Hey, I told you I’m working on that. Lay off will you? Damn.”
“Don’t raise your voice at me, Darren Foster.”
His brown eyes narrow, and I can tell he doesn’t appreciate me talking to him the way I am.
“You know me, Darren,” I say in a softer, apologetic tone. “I hate excuses. Either bring it on or keep it moving.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” I can tell he’s still miffed at me, which is good, actually.
I manage to stand and go to my walk-in closet to get my silk robe, wrapping it around me and pulling the belt tightly.
“Well, that’s a mood killer,” Darren says. “What time is it anyway?”
“Almost three. Damn, my back is hurting.”
Darren’s cell rings again. He gives me another stupid look.
“I know you ain’t answering—”
“I am not answering, just looking. Demetria, chill out for once.”
“You know what? I’m getting really sleepy. Do you remember how to let yourself out?”
“You want me to leave?” He has a fragile, hurt sound in his voice, but I wait for him to come back to me.
When he does, I look squarely in his beautiful eyes and I gently tell him, “You seem like you have other things going on, Darren, and I don’t want to stand in the way of you taking care of your business. So do what you need to do. If you wanna hook back up tonight just hit me on the cell and I’ll see if I can make that happen.”
He stares at me for five minutes until he gets sick of me ignoring him, then he heads toward the door, zipping up his jeans.
I bite my bottom lip and wonder if he can read the yearning that swims wildly in my eyes. I know I’m acting cold, but it’s ’cause I gotta be. What I want more than anything is for him to come back in and hold me until we both fall asleep.
—7—
S EAPHES
I love to fuck and I’m good at it. Not bragging. The truth. A lot of men brag about being good in bed, but this is how to know for sure. If a man fucks a woman one time and never has to call her again, that’s when you know you’re good. If you fuck her right, she’ll be calling you damn near every weekend saying, “Hey, my DVD player is acting up, can you swing by? I won’t keep you long.” Interpretation: my stuff needs to be sucked, you want to lick it?
Oh, believe me, I’ve heard it all. I put it on these women just one time, and all of a sudden, their car needs an oil change, their refrigerator is leaking. “My cable is acting funny,” they say. You get the picture. These women couldn’t care less about getting stuff fixed—they just want to fuck. They want a skilled man to love ’em like they’ve never been loved before. Young, old, tight body, tens, banged-up faces, don’t matter. All women want a man to hold ’em at night, to listen to them bitch about their problems, a man who will be there to rescue them if they’re stranded on the side of the road.
Problem is, I don’t want to be the fix-it guy anymore. I think it’s about time I settled down and pick the
one
. You know, the one woman in the world who captures your heart in such a way that you ain’t thinking about being with anybody else. Just her.
Truth be told, I’ve been there before. Twice. I’ve met two women in my lifetime who caught
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