By the time she was sixteen, Simone knew more about the world. She knew more about men. Marriage was no longer for her. She rarely saw her brother and never heard anything from her father. When she turned eighteen, Simone knew she’d never let a man cheat on her. She didn’t need a man to be happy.
Watching the despair inside her mother as she grew up had taught Simone a valuable lesson.
Love is too damn painful to get caught up in.
Chapter One
Seven years later
Simone Allusifa stared at the door in front of her. She wanted to surprise her boyfriend for Valentine’s Day. Their sex life had been going off the boil just of late, and she didn’t like it. Going back to her vibrator held no appeal what-so-ever. She’s always loved sex and made no excuses for the fact she did. Who would? And why should she feel guilty about wanting sex, good sex, hot sex?
Running her fingers through her long black locks of hair, she took a deep breath and unlocked the door. They both had a key to each other’s apartment. John liked it that way. He always hated answering doors, or at least that was what he told her. Simone turned the key in, and the catch gave. Her heart was pounding inside her chest. She was never usually nervous. Sex was sex.
She shut the door, locking it behind her. When she was about to remove her coat she stopped as she heard some noises. Frowning, she checked her watch. He should be watching his football, at least that was what he’d said.
Moving through his apartment she recognised the noise for the groaning that John did during sex.
“Fuck me, baby. Ride my dick.” Those words came from John. Simone recognised the impatient growl to his voice. John never lingered over sex. He liked it fast. She didn’t mind his speed, but there were times she had to fake her orgasm.
“Yeah.” A woman’s voice now.
Shaking her own head, Simone gave up all patience and slammed the bedroom door open. There was her boyfriend, naked and fucking his secretary, the woman he worked with. John and Simone worked together in the same building but underneath different departments.
“Fuck!” John shouted.
“Yeah, fuck. So all this time you’ve been fucking your little secretary? Wow, such a porno move to do. Do you at least give her orgasms?”
The secretary, Joan, she thought her name was, suddenly squealed trying to cover her body. Not that there was much of a body to look at. The girl was all skin and bones. Yeah, Simone got it. She was too big of a woman for this asshole.
Simone was a full woman all over, large breasts and hips with a small waist. She would never make a super-model and didn’t want to.
“Simone, what are you doing here?” John asked.
“Sheesh, I thought I’d surprise my boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, but you know what, looking at your limp dick, I think I’ll find a new one.” Simone turned on her heel and began walking out of the apartment. Shit, she’d wasted several months on him.
“Simone, wait.” She was tired of waiting. When would she learn that not all men appreciated her curves or her sexual appetite? It was unfair.
“Screw you,” she said over her shoulder. Once she made it to the elevator, she clicked the button to be taken down. There was no way she was going to attempt the stairs in her high heeled shoes. These shoes cost a great deal of cash and were comfortable. The expense and luxury of the fit meant she was keeping them in the best possible condition.
John came out of his apartment with his sheet wrapped around him. “Simone, wait. This is not what it looks like.”
“No, then I take it Joan is merely a figment of my imagination.” Folding her arms underneath her breasts did nothing to calm the anger building up inside her. She was furious with him.
Why do I care? I never loved him. He was a bit of fun while it lasted.
Because the rumours are going to start doing the circuit at work.
She groaned. There was nothing worse than office gossip. Some of the women hated her because she refused to diet and talk about her weight. Was it a crime to actually like the way you looked? No, she would never be stick thin. She loved her food and had learned at an early age to love her body.
When she was eighteen years old, an older man had showed her how beautiful her body was. They’d met in a bookstore, and one thing had led to another. He’d been an imaginative lover and friend at the time. After a few months, he’d found a woman his own age, and they’d parted on good terms. He’d been a wonderful person.
John was not the one. His voice grated on her nerves, and he had this ability to make everything around him that went wrong, other people’s fault. In fact she really didn’t like him. The few occasions she’d orgasmed it had been because she’d been fingering her clit. Yep, she was more pissed off about him cheating. Out of everything he could have done, cheating was the big fat no-no. She hated cheaters. Her father had been a cheater. She still remembered the pain her mother had been in whenever he came back stinking of other women’s perfume. No, she’d never abide cheating in a relationship. They had been exclusive, and John fucked it up.