Carmen Read online

  Neezy didn’t normally explain himself so much but she was worth it.

  She was a loose cannon if you asked him. He knew that he had to take his time with her.

  She stood up slowly.

  “A bed, a window, some sheets, few pillows. Then, we’ll add you and me.”

  Carmen wasn’t that damn slow. She knew what he was implying.

  She sat right back down, “Oh, wow.”

  Neezy gently lugged on her arms, bringing her as close to his chest as he could.

  “I’m going to take my time with you, trust me.”

  It sounded good. If she got down like that. But, she didn’t.

  “When I asked you earlier if you trusted me, you said no. So, I don’t trust you either.”

  “This is different.”

  “How?” she would love to know so that she could concur.

  “You wanted me to trust you with my brand. My image. My future.”

  He was correct.

  “Right now, you’re asking me to trust you with my body. With my fragile heart and unsettled mind. You sure you want that load?” she was trying to talk him out of it while he had the chance to decline his proposition.

  Neezy didn’t even think or blink.

  “Yes.”

  He desired her.

  No matter what.

  He could handle her baggage; heavy loads didn’t scare him off.

  Carmen looked away and he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes onto his.

  “I’m asking you to trust me for a reason?”

  Again, she asked, “Why?”

  As much as she would adore getting her socks knocked off and all that hot girl shit. She was well aware that mentally, she couldn’t handle another one-night stand. Knowing what the first one led to. An unhappy marriage and her being shot seven times.

  Carmen wasn’t struggling in her singleness but being lonely without any real family was another story.

  She was trying to warn him to run away from her and kick her out.

  “I normally would have more to say that could convince you, but I don’t. I probably will later. I’m high right now and I want to fuck you,” he was gully with it.

  “Why?”

  Her favorite question was why.

  He was done talking.

  He picked her thick ass up and strolled to his bedroom with her in his arms.

  Carmen appreciated his aggressiveness. She would probably never measure up. She didn’t take the dick but would gladly spread her legs or bend her back low.

  He took charge. In a good way.

  He was bold and demanding.

  His tongue went places that she’d never been touched before.

  While undressing her, he kissed her on any and every exposed place that he could get to.

  Once she laid naked in front of him, he shook his head as his eyes fluttered.

  “My Lord.”

  She was beautiful.

  She was magnificent.

  Her body was an imperfect work of art. He wished he could paint her soul with his brush.

  He found his way in between her thighs and inhaled as much of her pussy as he could.

  “Hmmmmm.” He hadn’t felt this satisfied in ages.

  Neezy feasted not only until she was spent, but he was full.

  He’d hungrily drank cups of her release as if it was honey lemonade with a splash of Jack Daniels.

  He entered her with no protection because for some reason, she already felt like a house.

  She was his home.

  She could be his getaway from the stressors of the world.

  Her insides clenched with ownership.

  They were on the same page.

  Woosah.

  This was what meditating felt like.

  A surreal feeling swept over him as he glided his extended muscle of love inside of her.

  She leaked like a broken sink.

  Carmen moaned lightly.

  He could record her fine ass and place her on a track.

  She would get the credit if she wanted too.

  Carmen hadn’t been FUCKED before.

  But this right here….her pussy was so bad. It was misbehaving.

  Every time he went back in from a different angle or a position, she came without any apologies.

  He loved it.

  Eating and fucking her with no remorse, yet, he was gentle at the same time.

  He punished her pussy then praised it by use of his tongue and lips in the same breath.

  She couldn’t keep up and he didn’t want her too.

  Carmen was like putty in his hands and for hours, he molded her pussy to his liking.

  They both needed the experience.

  It wouldn’t be the last.

  Sex had never been that good.

  It was a relief to really be satisfied.

  To not have to roll her eyes as someone humped profusely over her.

  What he did to her was worthy of a book.

  She wasn’t disgusted by her actions.

  It was long over-due.

  He was so gentle.

  Patient.

  Kind.

  It was sweet.

  He was hard.

  Neezy never gave in.

  He held out for as long as he could.

  She was sure that she’d maxed out on orgasms.

  Twenty-eight to one.

  That was most likely the score.

  He returned an hour later and saw that she was awake. Most likely thinking about shit that didn’t matter to him. He wouldn’t dare judge her.

  Instead of her rambling about her not being that woman or making apologies about their night together. She only had one question before sitting up and reaching for him to join her in bed, once more.

  “What’s your real name?”

  Carmen had called him every other name except what he’d been called since birth.

  “Nehemiah.”

  She smiled, “I like that…come here.”

  Her breasts greeted him, and her nipples waved, hello.

  He rejoined her in his bed and kissed her lips.

  “I don’t give a fuck about no morning breath,” he let her know as he stuck his tongue into her mouth.

  She moaned, “Me neither, Nehemiah.”

  This lady here…

  “You must like my name?”

  Her eyes peeled open, “Do I?”

  Carmen called his name over and over again for another three or four rounds of what could only be described as pure, poetic, passionate, love making.

  Eleven

  Do you know what my love is? If I decide to choose you – Jhene Aiko

  Rehab made her skin crawl so she could only imagine how Casey’s bourgeois ass felt living here day in and out.

  What she didn’t expect was her brother’s name to not be found in the directory.

  Carmen was emailing Juice’s assistant back and forth about approval of the budget she’d sent over when she told the girl, “Kincaid. Casey Kincaid. Check again,” her brother was definitely here this girl just didn’t know what she was doing.

  “Ma’am, again…he was here months ago. He’s no longer listed.” This was her fourth time repeating herself and she wasn’t going to do it again. There was a big note that read, “Please end all phone calls before approaching receptionist’s desk,” it was there for a reason.

  Carmen wasn’t about to go back and forth. She asked for the supervisor instead.

  A bright red-haired woman appeared with a clipboard in her hand. Her employee informed her of the issue beforehand so after introducing herself to Carmen, she confirmed what she’d already been told.

  Carmen was still extremely confused, “Where is he then? Can you at least tell me that?”

  The woman shook her head, apologetically.

  “No, I can’t.”

  It was against their policy.

  After thanking the woman for her time and apologizing to the receptionist who didn’t want to hear that shit at a
ll, Carmen returned to her car and immediately called Missy.

  She hadn’t spoken to her in over a year. Since her mother’s funeral in which she showed not one visible emotion. Nor did Carmen see a tear drop from that woman’s face.

  She knew that her mother and Missy weren’t best friends, but almost thirty plus years of loving the same man, living under the same roof and raising two kids together…you would think that Missy mourned her mother’s death.

  She didn’t.

  Or, at least that’s what Carmen convinced herself to believe.

  She hated to admit that Missy had shown her true colors by not reaching out to her after she “disappeared”.

  If she picked up the phone, she wouldn’t dare refer to her as “mom.”

  Both of her parents were dead, and Missy was far from any kind of parental figure to her.

  She answered on the last ring, sounding annoyed that someone was interrupting Young & The Restless, a show that she recorded every day which meant by use of one button on the remote control, it could be paused.

  “Missy, it’s Carmen.”

  She felt so good calling her by her first name, that it didn’t make any sense.

  She punched the air and mouthed, “Yeah bitch!”

  She was still glowing from that lengthy, thick, model-worthy, nostalgic filled penis that she tried her hardest to swallow less than seventy-two hours ago.

  She’d seen him during the filming of the first day out freestyle.

  He refused to cut his hair and trim his beard but promised to do so before he and Mahogany shot the video for the upcoming anthem for the world.

  He was fine as shit. When she bent down to tuck his pants into the boots she purchased for him, she had to refrain from gnawing at the imprint poking out of the Balmain camouflage pants that she’d made into shorts.

  “Hello.”

  She didn’t sound shocked, excited, taken back or relieved to hear from her.

  “Have you heard from Casey? I stopped by the rehab to check on him and they said that he’d been discharged months ago.”

  The line went silent which led her to repeating her name again for the hell of it.

  “Missy? Are you there?”

  “He’s sick. He’s probably dying,” she rushed out and then hung up in her face.

  Sick?

  Dying?

  How could she sound collected at the mentioning of her only son's health status. Was her ass drunk?

  Carmen called back three times to get some kind of clarification.

  She was going to assume that she’d heard her incorrectly until she could get Porter on the phone.

  For sure, if something was wrong with her brother, he would’ve let her know.

  There was no way he could keep something of that much importance from her. Carmen adored her brother. She would be pissed to know that he’d been alone this whole time.

  The day passed by her swiftly and she’d been waiting on Porter to response to her text questioning her brother’s whereabouts.

  She was going to give him one more hour before she called him or pulled up to his crib.

  Carmen couldn’t take any more bad news.

  Porter answered on the very last ring.

  Her gut told her he’d seen her calling.

  “Sis.” he sounded, contained. She knew him well enough to know that he did an amazing job at keeping his cool.

  “Porter, I’m not in the mood for the run around. Where is Casey?”

  His first question was, “Where are you now?”

  She looked around the hotel.

  “Home. Why?”

  Carmen knew she needed to stop bullshitting around when it came to securing a new home. It just didn’t feel right doing so without her kid.

  She pushed the thought out of her head for now and redirected her attention to Porter.

  “Just asking…making conversation. Soooo, here’s the deal, Casey’s kidneys went into failure along with his liver. Everything started shutting down at the same time and the rehab discharged him because it wasn’t their job to tend to his physical needs.”

  Okay, but where was he? She thought to herself.

  “Understood. I prefer him to be under medical supervision. What are you saying though?” she needed more than a diagnosis.

  “He’s on life support at a private hospital outside of New York.”

  After the word life and support, she mentally clocked out of the conversation.

  Another. Tragedy.

  Another. Loss.

  Waiting to happen.

  Missy was right. He was “probably dying”

  He’d drank himself to his death.

  Generational curses were beyond real.

  They were toxic. They lingered over. This was a generational transfer.

  Carmen vowed early to not become her mother, although she was an amazing woman. She never wanted to be like her. Ever.

  Casey used to say he would be better their than daddy. He’d failed himself and she’d allowed him to do so.

  As his sister, she tried to stop him before it gotten out of control.

  She’d even called out for support.

  She saw her brother spiraling rapidly and now he’d crashed.

  “If you want me to take you to see him, I can. Soon as I get back in town,” he offered.

  She didn’t need his support. She’d asked for that when it came to Casey, years ago. Her brother needed more than an intervention.

  He was addicted to alcohol.

  A bad that he’d inherited from their father.

  A man who drank himself to sleep every night and covered it up every morning with a mint.

  “How does he do it?” a fourteen year-old Carmen whispered to her brother.

  Every now and then, he would text her and tell her what they were having for breakfast.

  Casey knew that she loved French toast and oatmeal. He never ate those two meals without her.

  He forked the last of his poached egg into his mouth and then swallowed it, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Who knows.”

  Carmen was always so concerned about their father.

  She depicted his every emotion, move, decision, statement.

  He knew that she didn’t like him. She made it obvious.

  The grim look on her face as she stared at their dad hop in his new shiny red convertible led him to ask, “Why do you hate him so much?”

  He’d been wanting to ask her that their whole lives. They were only teenagers.

  She rolled her eyes, “What reason has he given me to love him?”

  He disagreed, “We have the best parents in the world,” he was so naïve it annoyed her.

  “Your mom pops pills and your dad gets drunk every night and falls asleep on top of my mother. How is that a perfect upbringing?”

  Her stomach churned at the ill memories that took up plenty of space in her mind.

  “No, just send me the address,” she sighed.

  Porter didn’t know what else to say. Continuously feeling as if he failed and disappointed Carmen.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  It was her last question.

  He knew he was wrong.

  “I don’t know…I was scared,” he admitted.

  She thanked him anyway, “I appreciate you for doing your part in my absence, but I got it from here.”

  She hung the phone up and cried herself to sleep.

  The next day, she arose in better spirits. After a conversation with the Big Man above, she caught an Uber to the home she grew up in.

  The “For Sale” sign in the lawn shocked her.

  Missy loved this house.

  As soon as she was let in by the housekeeper, she was told to wait in the foyer for Mrs. Kincaid.

  Carmen rolled her eyes; she could do without the pleasantries.

  She was “family” for goodness sake.

  “I figured I would see you soon, come up here honey. I’m heading out in a few so I
can’t chat long,” Missy alarmed the heck out of her when she greeted her from over the banister. Her face was covered in a mud mask and she had the nerve to have on a knee-length cheetah robe.

  Who the hell did Missy think she was?

  Carmen could count on one hand how many times she’d been inside her fathers’ bedroom, let alone upstairs on the second floor.

  It was low-key forbidden when she was growing up.

  “How have you been? Air hugs and kisses,” Missy smooched her lips as she sat back down in front of her vanity.

  Looking around the room and nothing had changed.

  Not one thing.

  “I’m maintaining. Still missing my mom every day,” she admitted.

  Missy sighed loudly, “Me too. She was my friend, Carmen. My dear friend.”

  She didn’t know what to say back to that because she wasn’t aware that they had a relationship outside of being in love with the same man.

  It was a lot that she wasn’t privy to.

  Conversations that she would never get the chance to have with her mother. Because she’d died far too soon.

  There were many unanswered questions.

  “Really?” she was surprised, and it was etched across her face for Missy to see.

  She took a seat on a navy-blue pouf in the corner of the room and waited on her to say something…anything.

  Missy was a reserved woman.

  She was always concerned about the visual.

  The final picture.

  Image meant everything to her.

  “Yes. It took me a minute to accept her passing. Still wondering have I really accepted that she’s not a few floors down. She knew everything about me. Things that my family didn’t know, my so-called friends…she never judged me.”

  Missy wiped away tears that fell down her face that threatened to mess up her mud mask.

  “But anyway, did you go see your brother yet?”

  And, just like that, she placed her emotions back into a toy box.

  “No. I came to see if you wanted to go with me,” she let her know.

  Missy placed both of her hands onto the vanity.

  “Me and Casey’s last conversation during a therapy session gone wrong while he was in rehab went horrible. He said something’s to me that I still hear replaying in my head. Even when I’m laying down, showering…driving too even,” her hands shook and Carm wondered was she high right now.

  Missy… dealt with a few demons while they were younger, but it seemed as if she’d had it under control since that one little slip up.