Lying Lips (5 page)

His possession. His property. His wife. Asanti’s wish was my command and he commanded that I be his everything. At that moment I
was
his everything and he was damned sure mine.  Asanti. Asanti. My Asanti Maximus Styles.

Then we came. Thunderously. Explosively. Together. Crying out as lovers do. In unison.  Limbs clinching. To the tune of a beat that only my husband and I could hear.

“Mrs. Styles,” he said as he allowed his liquid to flow into me.

“Mr. Asanti Styles,” I moaned as I received him.

Asanti made me his. All his. And at that moment there was nothing more that I wanted to be.

We two had become one.

Hours later we woke only to find that we were still lying on the floor. The breakfast that had the room smelling so good a while ago was now just a faint memory. I smiled up at him. He smiled down at me.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Go where?” I replied curiously.

“Shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“My love,” he began tenderly, “unless you plan on walking around in this Vegas heat with that coat on another day, I have to take you shopping.”

“Then shopping it is,” I told him as I smiled and lifted my head to meet his lips with mine.

My new husband was quick to lift me and carry me to the bathroom where he bathed me for second time in three days, right before he made love to me again. Repeatedly, for more than two hours.  

We finally made it out of the hotel at four that evening and it was almost impossible to leave then. Every muscle in my body was sore but I loved it. It was a soreness that could only come from exhaustive love making and we had done nothing but make love. In the kitchen of the suite. In the dining room of the suite. On the balcony of the suite. In the living room of the suite. In the bathroom of the suite.
On the balcony of the suite
.
On the balcony of the suite
. And definitely let us not forget the bedroom of the suite.

We christened every room in that penthouse. Every single, solitary nook and cranny of each room.  We made love repeatedly. Like two horny teenagers that just couldn’t get enough. Insatiable. That was us. And I’ll be damned if it didn’t feel good. 

Finally, after fighting like hell to stop making love and leave the room, we stormed the streets of Vegas. I was a little uncomfortable with my attire at first, feeling nervous, but after getting a look of some of the other tourists, I began to feel right at home in my coat and clear heels. No one stared at me, no one gave me any funny looks for wearing a coat when it was sweltering outside. And no one seemed to give a damn when Asanti pulled me to him, leaned me back against a wall and kissed me deep, while secretly fingering me under that coat in the middle of Las Vegas Strip.

It was all I could do not to erupt right there on the sidewalk but I didn’t. I gently told him that I was on the verge of heat stroke in that get up and that,
and only that
, snapped him out of his sexual trance and got him to get me to an expensive boutique quickly. 

When Asanti said he was taking me shopping, I didn’t know he meant that he was taking me
SHOPPING
! For the longest time my spouse took me to any and every store my heart desired. He bought me outfit after outfit. Purses, shoes, accessories, perfumes. You name it, he bought it. And all for me.

No dollar amount was too much. No price tag was out of the question. If I so much as looked at it and he thought I wanted it, it was mine. Asanti made me feel like his princess. Like I was in a fairytale and he was my knight in shining armor. My smile couldn’t have been brighter and the look that I saw constantly present in his eyes couldn’t have been more satisfied.

It was well after nine that night when we were finally on our way back to the hotel. Every package had been stuffed into the limo that my husband decided to hire in lieu of all of the bags we had. But the two of us chose to walk instead and enjoy one of the most famous cities in the United States, in the world for that matter.

The time had flown by quickly, but I can honestly say I enjoyed every moment of it. I was so wrapped up in him, in us, in the infinite power he seemed to have over me that everything felt like a wild dream. Like I was having a weird out of body experience, an experience that I would loathe to forget. I was truly in heaven.

When we made it back to the suite I was tired. Exhausted even. But Asanti had loads of energy. My husband again bathed me, this time as though he worshipped me. Cleansing my body of any impurity that might have tried to seep onto or into me.

I felt perfect. Like royalty. Like Asanti’s queen. And he was my king. Then of course we made love. Deep and profound love. He took me repeatedly. Lovingly. Gently. Tenderly. For hours. It was beautiful. And perfect. And exquisite. I could ask for nothing more. In a little more than sixty hours, I had managed to fall in love.

With a perfect stranger!

At eight o’clock the next morning I was surprised by Asanti yet again. I was awakened after a long night of intense lovemaking to the smell of what could only be described as heaven. Breakfast. I mean a feast fit for the royalty that I had become. I ate like I was ravenous. Starving. Desperate for food to replace the loads of energy I had used up the day and night before. Asanti watched me in silence, the lust ever present all over his face.

To my surprise though, my husband didn’t touch me. Although it was clear that he wanted to. Instead, after breakfast, he carefully selected one of the many outfits he’d bought me and slowly, sensually, he dressed me himself. And before I knew what the deal was, the surprise was staring me in the face.

Asanti had me standing in the airport. Then back on a plane. Then back in the tiny bathroom where we screwed like wild rabbits again. And a short while later, the surprise was even more intense when we landed at Honolulu International Airport.

And our honeymoon began.

Chapter 5

“Legaci, I don’t want you to go,” my husband of the last two weeks said to me.

“But… I… uhhhhh… have… to…” I managed to get out while Asanti licked my slit clean.

“No you don’t have to,” he said as he situated himself between my thighs and lined his manhood up with my center. “You can stay here Legaci, here with me, here with this” he said as he plunged into my abyss.

“Aaaaahhhh,” I cried out uncontrollably.

I was instantly lost.

My body instantaneously went into Asanti mode. I couldn’t help it. My hips began to move with no help from me. My tender nipples aimed at him, begging him to pleasure them. My legs wrapped around him as they spread as wide as they possibly could. My back arched. My eyes closed. My arms wrapped around him as my fingers immediately dug into his rippling, manly his flesh.

“That’s my girl,” Asanti said to me as he propelled his hips forward to fill me with his thick, juicy meat.

I knew he loved it when my body reacted to him in that way. In that primal, desperate, I need you kind of way. Asanti loved the feel of me helplessly clinging to him as if I were trying to meld my body to his. It turned him on. Made him crazy. Made him make love to me that much more intensely. He said it made him feel like a man. I know it made me feel like a woman.

He ravished me.

Hard.

For more than an hour.

I came.

He gushed like a hot spring geyser.

“Legaci, don’t go,” he said to me again at the breakfast table as our new maid served us.

“Baby we’ve gone over this before. I love my job. I have to go.”

“You don’t
have
to go,” he became annoyed. “You
want
to go.”

“That’s not fair, Asanti,” I pouted like a child. “You get to do what you love but I have to give up what I love and sit at home all day doing nothing.”

My husband was quiet for a minute. I could see him taking my words into consideration.

Then he spoke tenderly, “My job doesn’t take me away from home for weeks at a time. You don’t have to miss me but for a few hours. I have to miss you for weeks,” he expressed. “We’re only just married and you’re about to leave me now. And on top of that I won’t see you again for three, possibly four, weeks,” he voiced firmly. “I leave every morning and I’m back by sundown.”

“Right now, Asanti.” I expressed, somewhat annoyed as well. “But what about your restaurants in Los Angeles, in Chicago, in Manhattan?” I asked with passion. “Are you honestly telling me that you will never travel away from home to look after them? Would it be right for me to ask you not to travel because I want you home? Do I really have the right to ask you to give up what you love and take away what obviously means a lot to you?” I pressed. “Asanti, I would never do that to you.”

He was silent.

Very silent.

I knew I had him.

He knew it too.

“Alright, you have a very valid point,” was his response. “You told me before we were married that you loved your job, that you wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. I have no right to take your happiness away from you. But I do have the right to be jealous,” he said quietly, through clenched teeth. “And I am
very
jealous. Crazy when I’m jealous.” He looked me in the eyes. “Dangerous when I’m jealous.”

I was shocked to hear those words. Terrified of those words.

“Why would you be jealous?” I ventured to ask.

He looked at me as though that answer was blaringly apparent.

“I don’t want you to love anything or anyone like you love me,” he didn’t blink once.

I was floored. My heart began to race and I was on the verge of breaking out in a cold sweat. I stood nervously and slowly walked to his end of the huge dining table. I walked behind the chair that he was sitting in and wrapped my arms around him. He grabbed me. Held me. Squeezed me tight.

“I can never love another like I love you,” I told him.

“Marina, excuse yourself please,” my mate said without even looking at the maid who was standing off in the distance waiting to cater to our every whim.

Marina did as she was told and rushed out of the room.

Asanti threw everything that was on the table in front of him onto the floor. It landed with a loud crash. Food and beverage splashing and spattering everywhere. He grabbed me and lifted me and lay me on the table before him in place of his breakfast. He reached for my short skirt. Ripped it. Then ripped my panties off with his teeth. My core was exposed to him. He licked his lips. Exposed himself to me. Bent his body forward until his chest was crushing mine. Then he filled me.

“Aaaaaaaaah,” I moaned out loudly, breathlessly.

My body went into Asanti mode again.

He took me.

Hard this time.

Rough.

Fiercely.

Completely.

I creamed until it spilled from me.

All over my husband’s shaft.

And onto the breakfast table.

Asanti growled in my ear. I felt his body twitch.

“Now you can go,” he told me hoarsely as his core prepared to burst forth. “But only because you’re taking the best of me with you,” he spoke sincerely, profoundly.

Then his essence escaped him. Gently. Poured slowly out of him. Into me. And saturated my walls. Clinging to me just as Asanti wanted to.

Ten hours later, I was standing in the midst of Louis Armstrong International Airport. I was in New Orleans. My home town. And I was scared to death. So much had changed since I’d left a month ago. I was a different person. A new person. How would I deal with who I had become? How would I deal with my new life while still facing my old one? My life had changed by leaps and bounds. I never would have thought it could happen to me.

I pulled out my new cell phone, bought for me by my new husband, and dialed.

“Hello baby,” he said after the first ring.

“I  made it,” I said cheerfully. It was fake.

“You don’t sound too good, Legaci. Do you need me to fly out there and be with you?”

Alarm settled in my chest.

“No, sweetheart. I’m just missing you already is all,” I came up with a lie on the spot.

I didn’t want Asanti with me in New Orleans. I needed time alone to think and get my head together.

“I miss you too, darling,” he told me lovingly. “My Mandingo misses you more. Those words made me instantly wet. I could feel my panties being inundated with my cream. He was doing it again. Even through the phone I could feel how much he wanted me. How much he craved me, and my body responded in like fashion. It wanted him too,
I
wanted him too. “You still there?” He questioned me when more than thirty seconds went by and I said nothing.

“Yes, baby,” I replied, “my mind just went to this morning and how good you put it on me.”

“Good,” he said strongly. “I don’t want your mind on anyone else but me. Do you understand me, Legaci Styles?”

“Yes,” I replied while shaking my head obediently as if he could see me.

“Now I want you to do something for me,” he stated commandingly.

“What’s that?” I spoke boldly, but I was really too afraid to know what his request would be.

“I want you to go somewhere where you’re alone and touch yourself. And I want to hear it.”

“Asanti!” I exclaimed. Shock and horror and extreme excitement ran through me.

“Do it, Legaci!”

Once again, I was about to step outside of my normalcy and step into the Asanti zone. I searched frantically for a private place where I could go and be alone and comply with my husband. Ten seconds later, I found one. Once in the ladies room, I locked myself into a very clean stall.

“I’m alone,” I told him

“Touch what’s mine,” he told me boldly, his voice ever so deep and penetrating.

I did as he asked of me. It wasn’t long before I was moaning.

“I like the sound of that,” he told me lustfully. I could hear in his voice that he was stroking himself.

My husband began to talk me through a beautiful masturbation. It was wonderful. I was naughty. Asanti loved it. For more than fifteen minutes I forgot about everything and everyone and I pressed my ear to the phone and listened to every wicked word he was uttering.

I moaned louder.

The door opened and I heard footsteps. Another stall was entered. I moaned again. Then there was complete silence in the restroom with me. The person was listening. I didn’t care.

“Put the phone on speaker and put it down there. I want to hear my kitty purring for me.”

I did as he told me to.

“I like that,” my husband informed me. “Do you?” His voice echoed throughout the restroom.

“Yes, baby,” I moaned as I followed his instruction and massaged my kitty until it smacked and purred.

“Cum for me,” Asanti demanded.

He talked dirty to me. Almost vulgar. Nearly pornographic. I liked it. Thoroughly enjoyed it. He made me cum. Hard. And wild. I listened intently as he came too.

“Did you enjoy that?” I heard him asking me when I could finally focus again.

“Yes, “I heard myself saying.

“Good,” came his reply. “That should hold you up until later when I get out of my meeting and call you back.”

I smiled, looking forward to it. To him. And to creaming again.

This situation was getting crazy.

And I was becoming addicted.

I walked through the airport as if in a dream as I went to retrieve my luggage. I had changed my flight to leave a day earlier than I originally planned so no one was expecting me just yet. Everyone would be surprised to see me though. I began to feel deathly ill when I thought of how they would feel if they knew that I had gotten married in the four short weeks that I was gone. What would they think? Probably that I had lost my mind. I know I felt as though I did.

Hopping into the cab that would take me home made me more nervous than ever. I was sweating profusely. How could I have been so stupid and irresponsible and selfish as to marry someone that I had only known for a few hours? Had I lost my mind? Being away from Asanti allowed me the ability to think straight. To see things more clearly. And I really felt as though I had gone temporarily insane. Otherwise, how could I have done what I did? No other answer was suitable.

As I rode through the city that I loved with a vengeance, the tears rolled down my face. I had made a commitment to him. A complete stranger. How the hell was I going to deal with that? How could I have done that? Through a choked up voice I asked the cab driver to stop around the corner from the home that I had lived in more than twenty years. I couldn’t bear to ride up to the door just yet.

When the driver pulled over to the side of the street, I handed him a hundred dollar bill. Forty-five dollars more than what was owed to him. As I was leaving, Asanti had placed a wad of money in my hand telling me that no wife of his would ever leave home broke. His definition of broke was anything less than two grand on hand at any given moment. And that didn’t include the credit card with the practically unlimited funds.

The hundred I shelled out barely dented my cash flow. I grabbed my own belongings from the trunk, telling the cab driver that I needed no help in doing so.Afterwards, I stood there watching him pull away when the trunk was shut.

Then I walked.

Around the corner.

Up the block.

And past my house.

And around the corner again.

And again.

And again.

For over an hour.

Until finally my knees were too weak to carry me anymore and I had to go home and face my demons.

I was a nervous wreck.

A tortured soul.

On the verge of a nervous breakdown.

But I couldn’t run forever.

As I neared my front door, I pulled my keys out of my pocket. My hands trembled violently. My breathing barely existed. I inserted the keys and turned as slowly as I could. The door opened. And there they were.

The Bentencourt’s.

My family
.

Amaya Bentencourt, my fifteen year old daughter.

Armani Bentencourt, my sixteen year old son.

Allegra Bentencourt, my seventeen year old daughter.

And Ashton Bentencourt. My fifty year old. My baby. My soul mate. My husband of the last twenty five years.

I, forty-five year old London Legaci Carmichael Bentencourt, was finally home.

“
Mommyyyy
!” My baby girl Amaya immediately ran to me. She was obviously surprised to see me standing there.

“
Mom
!” My other two kids ran up to me and enclosed me in their loving embraces.