With a shrill whistle, I hail a taxi as the words of that fucking producer's still wove into his ears. Over some bitch. Am I ruining my life over just any woman? This isn't an issue of lust, it can't be. Though I've run through pussy in my day, it goes with the lifestyle. I'm too fucking old not to know love. It's a wonder how I hop into the backseat of a stale-cigarette scented taxi, because my heart has ceased to beat.
My eyes are burning from lack of sleep, head throbbing, but if it weren't for the physical pulsation of it, I'd be none the wiser. There's only one feeling I cling to. HEAVY.
~~~
After the taxi ride, I walked aimlessly until the sun no longer warmed my broken heart. With no concept of time, dark clings to me as I make it back to my brownstone loft. As I step into the building, the frigid air stops puffing out before me. Across the way, my neighbor Delilah is starting to close the cage to the elevator. She pauses, noticing me, before I'm able to retract my steps and submerge back into the night.
"Franco," Delilah laces along my first name as her baby blues covers every inch of me as if I'm the chef's special tonight.
"Hello, Delilah." I step into the cage next to her. She has to be about my age, but dark eyeliner adds age to her pearly white skin, yet, each time she speaks, she seems younger, dumber. A hoodie with the hot pink ballerina insignia from the dance studio where she works has swallowed her perky breasts. Black tights have become a second skin to her athletic legs, and snow boots adorn her feet.
The elevator jerks before ascending slowly.
"So, Franco," Delilah says turning toward me, absorbing the space between. Her fingers take a walk up the collar of my v neck. "You've had a hard day," she says, the line tells me that millions already know. They've no doubt seen the video of Edward's endeavors to stop me from leaving The Food Network Channel building. Or perhaps the live audience who anticipated a good show this morning went into an outrage on Facebook, Twitter, and all of that. I don't deal with my social media accounts. I have no desire to know.
The elevator creeps along as my cognac gaze locks onto her. I sidestep her statement asking, "How are you, Delilah?"
She sighs. "I am so in love with the way that you say my name."
The old me would subconsciously retort love, now that's why we haven't taken each other for a spin. I'm a big fucking guy, I can handle saying the "L" word. But to just toss it around, not gonna happen. I glance her up and down, knowing that it's killing her as she licks her lips. The new me, the one that has finally experienced true love, is dead.
"Wanna head to my place for … a cup of coffee?" She asks ending with dragging her teeth through that pink succulent meat.
I nod. If this isn't a momentary reprieve, then there's more alcohol in my loft.
"You're so cold … " Delilah mentions as her fingers lace into my own. There's life in her hands, while my large fingers must feel like popsicles. This keys me to just how aimless my long walk was. because the woman I've fallen madly in love with, left me. Everything was all fireworks, not one problem. I lead a busy life, as does she, but what I thought was special –
Stop the fucking madness, I force myself not to think about her as the elevator jerks to a stop on Delilah's floor.
My place is at the top so it has a surrounding view of buildings and more buildings, but the appeal is the sliver of the Empire State building. I realize there have to be at least two other homes on Delilah's level as she steps out into the hallway on her level. She dawdles while I stand in the cage.
"C'mon, Franco."
Fuck her. Fuck her. I tell myself. Then I step out of the elevator cage and follow that swaying ass to her front door. Fuck her until your broken heart begins to beat again. And fuck her quickly.
She unlatches an arsenal of deadbolt locks. Then we step into a living room, or a safari rather. There's a cheetah print throw on the chocolate leather couch. More cheetah print thrown here and there with clashes of hot pink.
As if she's reading my mind, Delilah's agile body is all over me before the front door can even close. She's warm, soft and a floral essence wafts in my nose. But she doesn't smell like her. She's not her, not one iota of the woman standing before me can compare to love lost.
Before I can even reconsider my actions, Delilah is on her knees at the same time my belt buckle begins to unfasten. Her hoodie goes flying into the air, landing on a leopard print lamp shade at the same instant her slender arms move like an octopus. A harsh breath sucked through ultra-glossed lips has her on pause for a moment. Hell, even my eyebrow raises as I glance down, and not because her tits are these glorious ripe cantaloupes. This broad is creeping me out.
"You're a god!" Those google eyes of hers widen. She gasps, mouth slack as a food critique determining what portion of a competition sample, no a feast, to devour first. Silky little finger tips take to the thick veins at the base of my cock, her thumbs begin to rub the engorged length of it.
At first, Delilah closes her lips over the head of my thick cock, and though I'm horny as hell, she doesn't seem to have enough mouth for all of me. Then, it's like a whale, a large killer whale, damn that's a fucked up analogy as her mouth begins to gobble up my cock. Then it feels ... It feels so damn good that all the pain is momentarily flushed from my mind. Somehow Delilah's mouth widens even more. The back of her throat does this mind blowing, titillating phenomenon. Her tonsils alternate from squeezing the head of my dick to banging against it.
I'm in euphoria. Those thick lashes of Delilah's flutter upwards and her aqua eyes sparkle like diamonds, with enthusiasm. Nothing in this world can trump me watching a woman, watching me. She's in a zone, mouth so moist it's begging me to cream all down her throat, and glaze those lips. Those fucking eyes are begging for me to cum, too. Delilah's vigorous sucking pauses, as her tongue gets to twirling around my heavy shaft. The pink of her tongue blazing across the deep veins of my cock is out of this fucking world. Then the warmth returns as Delilah deep throats me once again.
"Delilah, fuck, shit," I bark the words, "I'm gonna fucking cummmmm!"
Either she doesn't hear or doesn't take heed to the words, but fair warning has been given as my balls clinch. With a wide-legged stance, my toes stiffen and curl on the black fur rug. Warm, thick semen explodes down her throat, she moans at the taste, making me cum longer, harder.
Those thick lashes of Delilah's flutter upwards and her aqua eyes sparkle with satisfaction. A grin brightens Delilah's face as she rubs the back of her hand over plump lips.
"You think I'm done with you, eh?" I smile, hand claiming the silk of her neck. I pick Delilah up from the floor. Her lithe legs wrap around the muscles of my waist. When I press her body close to mine, her warmth becomes my life, just for that very moment.
Chapter 3
Angelique
A WEEK AGO was the last time I saw Carlton and cooked dinner at his house. He had to meet with an out-of-state client who, meticulous in her ways, flew Carlton in for a few days just to review assets and portfolio. I had doubts of his return in time for my birthday today. But maybe my work is finally producing its fruit; Carlton called at the crack of dawn and told me to be ready for dinner. Somewhere fancy he had said. So that works out perfectly since Melody and I have a birthday breakfast tradition.
I sift through my closet for the two new outfits I splurged on while shopping at Neiman Marcus with Melody and our friends a few weeks ago. It's almost ten am, and hell, I'll take frozen waffles if Melody doesn't hurry up and get here for my birthday breakfast. For over a decade this has been our thing, regardless if either one of us does something elaborate or throws the other a surprise birthday party, pancakes and candles is exactly what we do.
About a quarter to eleven, I dial her cell phone. After it goes straight to voicemail, I purse my lips while calling the house.
"Hey, Angelique," Kiel speaks. His usual, dreamy tone washed out with fatigue. I can hear the sound of footsteps. "Mel's sleeping right now."
"Sleeping?" I snap.
"Oh shit," he sounds enlightened, "Damn girl, it's your birthday. Look, I know pancakes are just the beginning of you and Mel's thing. We went to the doctors yesterday … "
My palm goes to my forehead. The in vitro clinic. They've been attending for a while now. She falls into these severe depressions. I've made so many referrals to them in the past for counseling that it's a shame. "I'm sorry, Kiel."
"Nah, Jelly. Don't be, it's your day. I'm sure when Melody comes around, she'll make it up to you. We gotta take you out on the town. You still with Carlton? We can make a weekend of it."