New York City castle
Twenty stories in the sky
Even down here, I see the fear
Hidden deep within your eyes
I wish I could get through to you
To show you I’m what’s real
There’s only one way for this love to stay
To see the way I feel
Rapunzel, let your hair down
Snow White, open your eyes
Your knight in shining armor
Seeks his princess in disguise
And though you fight what’s meant for you
Defeat is something I can’t let
Cause this Romeo wants you to know
That you’re his Juliet
Mackenzie was accustomed to turning heads.
It was what she was paid to do; her ability to turn heads was what paid her bills every month. Not an hour of the day went by where she didn’t receive a double take or a lingering gaze of either desire or envy, or both.
As she pulled up to the valet at the Venetian hotel, in her white Jaguar, the response was no different than usual.
She stepped out of the car gracefully, dressed in an aqua blue GUESS by Marciano Grecian one shoulder top, black peg trouser pants and white Bordello stiletto pumps, dazzling the valet with a smile as she handed him her keys. She ran a hand over her hair, pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, as she entered the hotel, headed for one of its conference rooms.
She was pleased to find that everyone who was supposed to be at the meeting was in attendance; she fought to keep the amusement off of her face as she watched the men in the room struggle to keep their expressions professional. She smiled at the general population of the room, her eyes sweeping over their faces. Her gaze lingered on a pair of emerald green eyes in the group, perpetually calm under low lids. He sat near the wall furthest from the entrance, leaning back a little in his chair, one elbow resting on one of the arms. One of his colleagues leaned over and said something to him; he nodded a little and responded – though she couldn’t hear his voice or what he was saying, Mackenzie could hear the rumbling bass in his voice.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said in the professional voice she’d perfected for business endeavors and the people she encountered who expected her to be a dunce; Mackenzie Caldwell was one of few who handled every aspect of her career. They all greeted her at generally the same time; all eyes were on her as she took a seat at the head of the conference table, pulling a slim notepad and pen out of her gold oversized Michael Kors clutch. “I hope everyone made it here okay.” There was another chorus of responses. “Alright, good. Let’s get to work, shall we?”
Mackenzie grew increasingly discouraged as she watched one presentation after another. None of the houses was what she was looking for; one was too feminine, one was too antique, one was too modern – by the time McCartney Architecture’s turn came around her head was beginning to hurt and she was mentally recalling more architecture firms in her mind.
He stood from his seat and her attention was captured by his towering frame. He was dressed in all black – a button down, pants and shoes, no tie – and she could see the muscle outlines underneath his clothes. There was a silent collective swoon from females in the room as he approached the front of the room with his two colleagues, many looks were exchanged.
He introduced himself as Alexander McCartney before introducing his colleges; employees, rather. Mackenzie had to remind herself more than once that she was there on business as he talked – his voice was a phenomenon within itself – but once he began his presentation Mackenzie was completely captivated.
He’d brought three separate designs, each ranging in their levels of modernity and possessing just the right balance of feminine and masculine features. Mackenzie found herself zoning out at times, imagining how she could incorporate something from each design into her dream house; her mind was made up before the presentation was finished.
“I would like to thank you for your time and effort,” Mackenzie began, putting her pad and pen back in her clutch. “Each presentation was great and you’re all extremely talented. I will make my decision and let you know tomorrow.” She stood from her seat, her gaze sweeping over the room once more. His gaze was on her as she reached him; she wasn’t sure, but the look in his amazing green eyes seemed to tell her he’d be seeing her very soon.
Genevieve Marie Austin swayed slightly to Chris Brown’s “No Bullshit”. She watched as couples’ sweaty bodies became one, melting into each other as they slowly grinded into each other. She scanned each of their faces, pausing only long enough to look deep into their souls. She was searching for something inside of them, something dark and unpleasant. Looking for what they hid from the naked eye. She wanted to really see them. Found him. A smile tugged at the corner of her pink lips and her emerald green eyes showed a slight glint. He stood at the other end of the crowded club, watching her as she watched the others. She watched as his pitch black eyes scanned her 5’6 in heels frame, pausing ever so slightly at her 36C sized breast. His pink tongue darted out of his mouth as he licked his lips, imagining her mouth on his. She looked past his 6’5, medium build, and smooth brown skin to his soul. His soul was just a black as his almond shaped eyes. Her grin became a grimace as she took a trip through his mind. She could see his sins, hear his victims’ cries, and smell their blood that was splattered on various surfaces around the state. She moved her hips, performing for him. She enticed him. He felt her body beckoning him to her; an invisible force pulled him closer.
“I’m Marcus.” He whispered into her ear, placing his hands on her hips, grinding his engorged member into her ass. His voice was deep and his Sean Jean cologne tickled her nose as she bent over, allowing her ballerina inspired black skirt to rise ever so slightly, giving him a peek at her panty less ass. He gripped her hips even tighter as Chris Brown ordered everyone in the club not to be on that bullshit. They danced like this, song after song. She enthralled him without ever speaking word. She let her body speak for her. He was captivated, he had to have her.
The lights flickered on and she turned to him, her eyes searched his. She had to be sure he was the one. The pleading cries she heard in her head told her he was perfect. She shook her head, drowning out the voices.
“Follow me.” She said. Her voice rang like soft chimes inside of his head. He forgot how to talk so he just followed like he was told. His instincts told him to run as she led him into a dark alley not far from the club. He knew he should run but his feet steadily followed behind hers. He’d led plenty of women down dark alley ways late at night, only to rape them mercifully as they begged him to stop before finally slicing their throats. There was something about her though; he couldn’t leave without having a taste of her.
Before he knew it, she had him up against the wall of a rundown building, her tongue was softly massaging his while her hands were busy unbuttoning his dark wash Levi jeans. Shit, this is my lucky night, he thought to himself. He ran his hands down her frame, basking in his luck. Just as she had freed his dick and his hands found her sweet spot, a sharp pain coursed through his body; fear paralyzed him.
Genevieve drank heavily from the idiot’s body, her hunger being filled by both his blood and pain. She gripped his neck tighter as she drained his body of life. Blood dripped down her pointed chin on to her lace see through top.
“Shit.” She whispered, wiping her pointed chin with the back of her hand, allowing her prey’s body to slide to the ground.
Nicolette sighed and leaned her face in her hands, feeling drained after another failed session with one of her worst artists. Rizky Biznezz was a terrible rapper with the vocabulary of a third grader. No matter how awesome her beats were, they sounded like trash beneath his horrible lyrics. She’d offered for the eighth time to get someone to write for him, but he refused. He had too much pride to let some suit write his music for him. She’d gone as far as to bring out her aggressive attitude and tell him how bad he sucked. No go. Instead, he hung his headphones up for the night and said those five words that made her want to scream each time he said them. “I’ll come back with more,” he said with a confident swag that she’d be attracted to if his lyrics didn’t make her want to hurl.
“Okay,” she sighed, feeling no need to argue with him. “Come talk to me real quick first, though.” She kicked the chair sitting next to her so that it stopped right in front of him on the other side of the room. To her dismay, he pushed it back and sat close to her, their knees touching. She suffocated her need to gag and continued on with the lecture she was giving. “I have to be totally honest with you,” she began, “your stuff is terrible.” He sat back in his chair with a smug grin on his face. He was warned ahead of time that she was not known for sparing anyone’s feelings. She gave information raw and never apologized for it. Which might explain why no one liked her and she was stuck with artists like Rizky Biznezz who would take anybody. But she didn’t care as long as she got her point across. “I’ve been trying to work with you on this. I have been working day and night, literally, to make sure you had the best music I’ve made to date to make up for what you’re lacking. Some how you have taken my pure creativity and turned it to crap. Never seen that before in my life.”
“Hold on a damn minute…” he tried to interrupt, finally feeling hurt.
“No, I’m not done. I have even offered to get some prewritten stuff for you. No one’s even worrying about the royalties and such. It’s not about the money right now, it’s about trying to save myself some face. Not you, me. If you’re proud of this tired, high school drop out type crap, then you’re not worried about your reputation. That being said, you’ve got one more time to get it right before I give up on the whole project.”
“You can’t do dat. I’m payin’ you ta werk on ma shit.”
“And shit it is. You’re paying the label. I can send you to be somebody else’s headache down the hall. The money ain’t good enough for me to go through all this. To hell with it.”
“Fine den. You gon’ be dat way den I’m gone. Deuces!” He leaped up and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Finally, she thought to herself, go be someone else’s problem. Leave the good stuff for the people that actually deserve it. She packed up her stuff and left for the night. Maybe one day I’ll end up with somebody actually worth my time.
Pretty girl, pretty girl why do you cry? When you look into the mirror tell me do you see inside ‘cuz you’re so pretty girl, pretty girl what are you crying for?
Glancing in the mirror at myself, I oftentimes wonder what ever happened to me. I’ve always thought pretty highly of myself, some may say I was arrogant but hell, that’s how I was. It’s crazy how one moment you’re confident with yourself, and then you’re just wallowing in self-hatred. I was always told “you’re so gorgeous” or “you’re a beautiful black girl” and in the beginning those words made me feel good about myself – a little too good. Back in the days, I would look at my big, jet black curls, big, pretty hazel-greenish eyes and plump lips and just say “Damn I look good.” You don’t really find a woman with milk chocolate skin as smooth as mine. No dark spots, didn’t have the bad acne spells during puberty, no nasty adult acne or anything like that. Men fell for that and my eyes, they would go wild looking into them. But the thing they really fell for was my body, and I definitely used that to my advantage. I’m five feet, six inches tall and my measurements are 38-30-49, so yes I have my way all of the time—well had my way. Now I look at all of those features and think that God plagued me with them, for beauty can be a blessing and a curse. Now I look at those features and just cry because I don’t feel good about myself at all, I feel so ugly, used and useless. Now I’m just a lonely piece of—well—nothing.
He lifted her onto the counter by her waist. She couldn’t think of a better way to start her vacation from life. Sex, almost, on the beach. The water crashing outside sounded as though it had picked up speed, making even bigger splashes, while her body was busy creating a wetness of its own. She was overcome by the feeling of relaxation again as he planted soft, sensual kisses along her collarbone. He continued to tease her by almost kissing her, flicking his tongue about her lips. She unbuttoned his shirt, anxious to unwrap the gift that was waiting for her.
“You are… intense,” she sighed between kisses.
“You know how I get when you wear your glasses. Your hair curled.” He lightly pulled her head back by her hair and kissed along her neck and chin. “You make it hard to resist you.”
“I want you. I want my pussy licked. I want my ass licked and my tits sucked. I want your dick in my hand, in my mouth, in my pussy, in my ass…”
“Damn. All that?”
“What about in your ear?”
“If it’ll fit, go for it.”
“And you say I’m intense.”
“I like to fuck.” She removed his badge, cell, and gun from his belt. “I like to fuck you.”
Lourdes looked into his beautiful eyes and saw the sparkle that set his whole world in motion. She nodded her head and Jamison touched her as gently as possible. He had learned early on that touch was the most important sense when it came to love making. Jamison had that shit down to a science. He touched Lourdes as if she was his ivories. He stroked her as if she was his guitar strings. Lourdes shivered as Jamison begin to move her body in his symphony. Lourdes closed her eyes as Jamison’s lips finally touched hers. Her eyes flickered and Jamison was hovering over her, trying to find her soul.
“Verse one.” Lourdes said as she reached for his shirt.
Together they pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side. Lourdes kissed him softly, not rushing his melody, but helping him finding his words. He kissed her back, taking back his song, making her see that he was the key to the whole process. Lourdes relaxed, his strong arms telling her that it was okay to be free. Lourdes leaned back, her head hitting the pillows as he began to kiss all over her body. Lourdes counted each kiss until he reached her belly button. She stroked his cheek and he glanced up at her.
“Number?” He asked as he licked her navel.
“One hundred and seventy-two.”
“How do you want it?”
Lourdes looks at him thoughtfully, “ I want it so I never forget it.”
Jamison unbuttoned her jeans and began to slide them down her hips. “You think you can handle all of that?”
“I’m already at the beginning, question is can you get to the end.”
Jamison looked at her and smiled. He loved a challenge. Unfortunately, Lourdes was still new to his game and it was a game he played well. He pulled her bottoms all the way off and tossing them to the floor before he took off his own pants. Lourdes scooted towards the head of the bed and waited. Waited for the love, fury and passion that made him Jamison Cain seep inside herself.
Jamison reached for the fruit and strategically placed the strawberries, pineapple and peaches from her sternum to inside of her vagina. He took the containers of whipped cream and turned Lourdes’s body into a sensual desert. Jamison licked his lips as he propped Lourdes’ legs into place. He firmly placed his arms on both sides of her and positioning himself right above her, dead and center.
“Count ‘em.” Jamison said as his lips touched down.
Lourdes couldn’t get out her affirmation before Jamison got down to business. He was fierce when it came to the sex. Jamison was in a league of extraordinary gentlemen, he aimed to please the one he was with, the one he loved. Unfortunately most females got the “fucking” Jamison. Lourdes got the “lets make love” Jamison.
Lourdes took a deep breath as she looked up at the ceiling. She couldn’t decipher between a lick and a suck ‘cause the shit felt so incredibly good. Jamison took his time making sure that she felt everything, simply because he wanted her to convey her understanding of his language. Finally, he ventured down to her forbidden fruit, in which he snacked in the delectable treat that he had placed there for himself. She tried to squeeze her legs together, praying that he would just stop, when he forced them apart, letting her know that he was about business.
She squirmed under the pressure of his tongue. She reached for the pillow next to her, covering her face as she begin to talk to him. Jamison smiled to his self he knew that she was close to the end. He eased up and removed the pillow from her face and looked down on her. She smiled as she took a deep breath. He kissed from her vagina up her stomach to her breast. He took his time as he sucked the nipples that were hard enough to cut diamonds. He stopped momentarily, finding the right spot to give her all she had.
“Chorus.” Lourdes screamed as she tossed her head back.
Jamison took his time as he slid inside of her; he had to be gentle giving her enough time to get used to his girth, to his exoticness. She bit her lower lip as she tried not flinch. They had spent their last three months together engaged in straight passion and she still wasn’t able to handle him. Jamison gritted his teeth as he fought the urge of slamming all of what he was inside of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
“Are we done with the chorus?” He asked her.
Jamison smiled as he jumped back into his rhythm; Lourdes closed her eyes as her body rocked. She loved when he aimed to please. Jamison was gentle, yet forceful. Hard, yet soft and she loved every single minute of it. Jamison was giving it her all when she begin to Chorus again. This time, with out warning she began to hum in his ear. All he knew that she was holding to him for dear life, the harder he worked, the louder she hummed. She knew that this could go on for hours and hours and she wouldn’t even care.
Jamison kissed her slowly not rushing things, just taking it right. He wanted passion no fucking, no sloppiness, just straight up love making. He wanted to show her what he was capable of without overstepping his boundaries. Lourdes broke the kiss as she rolled him onto his back. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, as Jamison looked up at her in alarm.
“Oh shit!” Lourdes screamed as her head dropped to his chest.
“You okay?” Jamison asked focused in on her.
“Unhuh.” She said as she begin to maneuver her body around him.
Jamison kept his mouth closed as she begin to sing her part. She took her time, forming each word and hitting each note as if this was going to be her last time singing. Jamison stroked her back and watched as she worked herself into a frenzy, she wanted him to cum with her. She wanted him to show her what a true love orgasm could be. She watched as his eyes shone even more brightly, her honey skin glistening against his caramel-copper tone. He wrapped her arms around her waist this time, helping to move the song along. She knew just like he did that this was about to be the best part of the song, when the chorused together, forever.
“Jami, do you love me?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know.
Jamison flipped Lourdes and gave her all her had. She looked at him and felt everything that was inside of her release. This shit was too good, too early, and too damn right. They came together. Each of them turning in each other’s spell bound love. When the song died down and they laid there trying to find their breaths two hours after they started, Lourdes found herself wondering if this was the love she was searching for.
That in itself shredded her heart to pieces. She could feel her faint heartbeat, her slow breathing. She was alive.
She opened her eyes a little, only to close them at the blinding light that assaulted her. She waited and tried again; as her eyes adjusted she found she was in a hospital room, laid up in the bed. She looked down at her wrist; her cut was closed, the stitches black and ugly against her pale skin.
“Elizabeth, thank God.” EJ looked up to see Ai sitting beside her, her face tearstained and distraught. She stared at her emotionlessly. Why didn’t you let me die? She wanted to ask, but she didn’t have the energy. “Elizabeth, why?” Ai whispered tearfully, her body shaking. EJ felt nothing as her sister wept, nothing at all.
“I want to sleep,” she murmured in a barely audible voice. “I just want to sleep.”
“Why?” EJ ignored her, turning her back to her. She didn’t have the energy, the life force, within her to be distressed, or angry, or even mournful. She wanted desperately to sleep, with hopes that she’d never wake up again.
He watched as she moved to a corner, men coming from every direction to try and buy her a drink; she turned them away, observing the club scene instead of allowing herself to be swayed by whatever pretty things they were saying to her. Tsai took a deep breath then made his way over to her corner, growing courage with each step he took. Cookie was listening to something one of the girls were saying in her ear; he cleared his throat loud enough so she could hear, catching the attention of all the girls.
“Oh, I don’t believe this,” Cookie said, her breathtaking orchid eyes taking in his appearance. All the girls laughed and Tsai rubbed the back of his neck.
“Hi, my name is Tsai. I was looking at you from across the room and even though I’m nervous I really had to come talk to you,” he said. Cookie’s face broke out into a beautiful smile as the other girls snickered.
“Wow… that was really nice of you… Tsai was it?” Tsai nodded, smiling. “Okay Tsai, you stepped to me in a good way, but I have to turn you down. I’m not trying to talk to anyone right now.” Tsai’s face fell.
“You mean I can’t ask for your number?” he asked. The girl sitting next to Cookie rolled her eyes.
“Listen Jackie Chan, didn’t you hear what she just said? Black dudes, white dudes and Spanish dudes have tried to say something to her and she turned them down. So what makes you think you have a chance? Do yourself a favor and leave,” she scowled at him, causing the other girls to laugh. Tsai sighed, walking away from them and leaving the club. He knew his mistake was approaching Cookie when she was around those girls, but he couldn’t help wondering whether the real mistake was thinking he had a chance with her at all.