Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
She nodded in understanding. With a trembling hand, she reached for the pills, tossed them into her mouth, then chased them with the iced tea. Grandpa reached for his glass and leaned back with a great big smile on his face. He took a gulp, and then another, until it was all gone. As the saying went, the truth was sure ugly, and it was cold going down. Just the type of icy drink Grandpa would need to survive his new residence: The pits of Hell…
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sneak the Sunrise by the Rooster
“I told you if it don’t make money, then it don’t make sense.” Nadia giggled into her phone. “I’m glad y’all had a good time while at it… Mmm hmmm… Yeah, the house is nice, huh? I believe it… Did he CashApp you afterwards or pay another way?”
Lennox looked at himself in the toothpaste-speckled mirror as he gargled mouthwash. His cheeks were puffed with air and liquid as he made sure all of the germs were killed, then spit in his bathroom sink. Turning on the water and rinsing the sink, he’d been overhearing Nadia’s conversation for the past few minutes.
Reaching for his black hand towel, he blotted his mouth, hung it back on the cloth ring, and turned off the light. Back in the bedroom, he found Nadia sprawled across his bed with only her satin purple panties on. Long, shapely legs were partially exposed in the folds of his wheat-colored sheets, and out poked one pretty foot with a thin silver anklet around it, toe nails cut evenly and painted a rich dark red. He didn’t peg himself as having a foot fetish per se, but he appreciated a lady who took care of herself.
“…For sure. I’ll follow up with you… No, thank you, baby!” Her eyes flashed with mischief. “He’s a big spender, chile! Yaasssss! … Mmm hmm… I got you, boo… Oh no, sweetie, the pleasure was all mine!” She cackled as she ended the call.
He sat on the bed, his back towards her as he reached for his cellphone to re-read the text message from his sister.
Silva: منتهي. غادر مع المجموعة. يبدو نائما. muntahi. ghadir mae almajmueati. yabdu nayima.
She’d written the text message in Arabic—he was impressed—stating that what needed to be done was taken care of, and she’d made sure of it. Speaking and writing in Arabic to one another was a little thing she and Lennox would do as children when they wished to speak privately to one another, without Dad understanding them. At that time, they’d discuss silly things, or plot to sneak from their rooms to play games. Mama, who was fluent in five languages, had taught them her native language when they were babies, and though he rarely got to speak it in his adult life, he remembered it well.
He reached for his iPad and turned on some music: Pinegrove’s, ‘Need To.’
“Are you ready for what’s to come?”
Tears blinded her eyes, surprising him. Watery, dark sanctuaries he wished to drown in.
“You know I am.” It was obvious she was nursing a bit of trepidation. Understandable, too. “This is do or die.”
She nodded in agreement, then crawled closer to him, wrapping her arm around his neck. His heart nearly burst at the scent of her perfume floating in the air. The cherry-vanilla sweetness was a thing of beauty and seduction. He took her silky form in his arms, squeezing her, finding his solace in a warm kiss. Moving his hand around the back of her head, his fingers sinking in a mass of textured, dark waves, he pulled her to him. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting the wine they’d imbibed, wanting more of it.
His anxiety began to fade like a snowflake melting in the sun. With her, everything felt okay. With her, he could let his guard down. Relax in the presence of greatness. Queen Nadia had stolen his soul, and shot up his despair with double barrels.
They tumbled about, rolling, clawing and scratching at one another. All shreds of clothing were gone, randomly tossed. Animalistic need took over any semblance of higher thought and elegance. The bed was a messy canvas below their writhing bodies, a platform for him to have his way with her. Their eyes locked as he slipped his hand between her thick thighs and played with her tender, sweet pussy. She arched into his touch as his thumb brushed against the silken nub until it hardened against his affections.
“That’s it,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me make you come. Turn my bedroom into an ocean.” She bucked against his touch as he kissed all along her neck, strumming her like a stringed instrument—an evocative, lovely solo song to entertain his ears only. Her forehead creased and her eyes slammed shut as if she were in deep concentration. She trembled against his hand as her orgasm ascended and crashed. When it was over, she took a deep breath, peppered with numerous uneven gasps.