Full Figured 15

by Anna J., Honey

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Urban bestseller Anna J and Honey bring the heat in this latest juicy installment of the Full Figured Series.
"Other Women's Husbands" by Anna J: Nobody wants a bone but a dog. That's been Zaria's motto for as long as she can remember. Gorgeous in the face and thick in the waist, she drapes every inch of her plus-size frame in nothing but designer if for no other reason than her own insecurities. She has to stay on point because in her world, she can't be fat and sloppy at the same time.
She thinks she has met the love of her life in Tariq, but she soon finds out he's just like the rest of them--only with her for her clout, and still a cheater. Zaria makes the decision to play the same game everyone else is playing. No one's husband is off limits. Will Tariq learn from this flip in the script, or will he lose his wife forever?
"Whole Lotta Lovin'" by Honey: Thick in the waist with the most gorgeous face has always been the best description of Harmony Baxter. She has a pleasant personality and the IQ of a genius. Unbeknownst to most, Harmony also has the voice of a soulful angel. She's managed to keep her rich, velvet timbre a secret, simply blending in, until a handsome, sexy teddy bear of a choir director comes along. The brother has so much swagger that he makes Harmony want to sing seductive lullabies and rock him to sleep in her bed every night.
After a sex scandal at his former church, Dorian Hendrix is blessed with a second chance with a new congregation in Atlanta. He still loves pretty women and "grown folks' activities," but he's vowed to be more careful this time around--until he accidentally discovers a secret about his most loyal choir member. Will Dorian's past as a hardcore player hinder his chances at making a love connection with Harmony? And will her insecurities stop her from lifting her voice in song and sharing all the love and passion in her heart with a brother who is ready to receive it?

Release date: April 28, 2020

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“I really hate that we even have to be in this situation right now,” I spoke into the love of my life’s ear as I walked circles around him and his wife. They were tied back-to-back in chairs in the middle of their gorgeous living room. I was irked that I even allowed him to pull me out of character like this. This was not usually how I acted, especially not over some dick. It was too readily available for me to be stuck on one, but he brought my heart into it. I just wasn’t willing to tap out and take it on the chin. Not this time. No, this time, someone had to pay.

“Guess you didn’t think I would find you, huh?” I asked, fully aware that he wasn’t capable of answering. I had him bound and gagged because I didn’t want that deep, sexy voice to convince me not to go forward with my plan. Just thinking about the things he did with his tongue caused an orgasmic jolt right to my clitoris. I had to squeeze my legs together and lean on the back of the couch for support to prevent collapse. This man had me open. I hated that about him. I hated that about me.

Here’s the thing... or maybe a few things I’ll make clear so that your judgmental ass can maybe see where I was coming from. Yes, I knew Tariq was married. He made it very clear that he was unhappily married to Tracey, one of the CEOs in my division. No, he never, not one time, said that he would leave her for me, because it was “cheaper to keep her.” His words, not mine. No, they were not fucking like that, but they didn’t necessarily have an open relationship. They just kind of did them. Yes, I knew it was supposed to just be a fun thing, something to do, get this pussy worked out, and enjoy his company whenever he visited. No, I was not planning to fall in love with him, but I did.

Shit, love happens! It wasn’t in the damn plan, but it happened. To me, of all people. I knew he had me when I cut off everyone else to be exclusively with him. This, knowing that he was only in town a few times a year. I’d have rather fucked my fingers until they fell off than given this juicy box to someone other than Tariq. Call me crazy, but it was my truth.

It wasn’t like I didn’t try, because believe me, I did. And more than once, but I couldn’t concentrate on anyone else long enough, and the entire time I was with a different guy, I would be pretending it was Tariq who was responsible for the wonderful orgasms that were being dragged out of me. After a while, it just wasn’t fair to any unsuspecting man I brought home. He consumed me, and my body wanted only him to touch it. So I waited for as long as it took until he came back to pleasure me again. This sometimes took weeks. Other times it was months, but no matter the duration, I always got mine until he rolled out again.

“I wasn’t supposed to love you, Tariq,” I said to him, stopping in front of his wife. I studied her face, her disheveled hair, the expensive sneakers on her feet, and the jewels around her neck. She was gorgeous. I could see why he chose her. She matched his fly. Her attitude, though... Oh, how I wanted to get a running start and dropkick this bitch in her esophagus the very first time I met her. Definitely not a people person. Not from what I could see. And I took extra pleasure in pleasing her man because I knew for certain she couldn’t and wouldn’t do the things to him that I was willing to do. Or would she?

“Wake up, princess,” I said in a singsong voice as I lightly tapped her on the forehead with the butt of the gun. I didn’t actually plan on killing them today. Not if they cooperated. I just had to get some shit off my chest. Maybe teach Tariq a lesson and Tracey too. Maybe this would bring their marriage closer together, and they would leave single people like me the fuck alone. Maybe, after this, they would see what they had in each other and not look to the outside. Make their bond stronger. Make him forget that he ever met me.

She stirred a little bit but didn’t open her eyes. I guessed that punch to the face was a little harder than I thought. Tilting my head to the side, I examined her a little further before walking away, continuing to burn a circle in the carpet under my feet. Taking in my surroundings, I saw that it was clear they were rich in this bitch. By mogul standards, of course. From the Klipsch surround sound system attached to the seventy-five-inch wall-mounted Vizio, to the Vera Wang china in the cabinet near the Italian leather furniture, everything in this bitch looked expensive as fuck. I hated to get blood on any of it, so I was careful to place their bodies in the middle of the floor away from everything. Figured that was the least I could do considering the circumstances.

“Your wife is still sleeping,” I informed Tariq when I got back around to him. Tear after tear escaped those caramel-colored eyes that pulled me in from the beginning. He was a head turner as well with caramel-colored skin, which was in excellent condition due to a strict skin-care regimen and plenty of water intake. I loved staring into his eyes while we made love. Well, we would have to be in love to make love, so clearly, it was just a deep fuck between one in love and one in lust. The thought was pissing me off all over again.

Grabbing the duct tape from the table, I propped up Tracey’s head to the back of his and wrapped the tape around both of their heads down to the eyebrows, covering them with tape as well. Secretly, I hoped they would snatch both their damn eyebrows clean off when whoever found them removed the tape. If everything went as planned, I’d be long gone before anyone could find me. If he was as smart as I thought he was, he’d just let me go.

“Sorry I have to do this, but her head won’t stay up. Maybe y’all can work as a team, because now is as good a time as any to give her support. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?” I asked him as I cut the tape and secured it in place, resisting the urge to slice both their damn throats.

I wanted to gut punch his ass for being so stupid. I had too much on my plate right now. My plane would be leaving in about two hours. I didn’t have any bags to check in, so I pretty much just had to get through the security checkpoints, and then I would be on my way. I had a son to think about. Yes, I knew that before I did all this shit, but that was the single reason why I didn’t kill both of them. Or maybe I should have, so as not to leave witnesses. It wasn’t like anyone knew I was here.

I was confused, but I refused to cry in front of them. I had to be stronger than this, and since I was certain I would never see Tariq again after today, I had to make this shit memorable.

I was let go from the firm after word got out about our affair, and I had since relocated to another Fortune 500 company where I was actually getting paid more. I really didn’t need the money, though. Tariq had my account crazy fat, and the job gave me a nice package upon my exit because they didn’t want anything to tarnish their image as a company. Something like this could ruin everything. I kept it strictly professional at the new gig. No small talk, all business. I just had to see him one more time and get this, and him, out of my system.

Looking down at the gun, I picked it up, not concerned about fingerprints because of the white gloves that covered my hands. I saw that on an episode of Snapped. No evidence left behind. I walked up to the couple, trying to decide if killing them was indeed the best thing to do. He wouldn’t say a word, but she would definitely want answers and repercussions. I didn’t know if I was willing to roll the dice on her just yet.

“With the way this thing works,” I said to Tariq, “all I have to do is pull the trigger, and it’s over for both of you. One bullet, through your head and out of hers.” I talked loud enough for him to hear me, but not so loud as to make anyone walking by outside aware of the situation. Paranoia was starting to set in, and I didn’t want to fuck this up.

The look on his face was priceless, as a fresh stream of tears sprang from his already-bloodshot eyes, and he mumbled something inaudible through the gag. I wasn’t crazy enough to remove it and risk him screaming for help. I wanted to kiss his lips one last time, but I resisted. I had to make a clean break. Raising the gun to his forehead, I looked him in the face before closing my eyes and putting my finger on the trigger.

Infidelity (noun): the action or state of being unfaithful to a spouse or other sexual partner.

I walked into this house, and this fool was watching What’s Love Got to Do with It. If you asked me, love hadn’t had a damn thing to do with it in years. This was the kind of simple shit he would do instead of talking to me about whatever issue we were having at the time. Like usual, I was supposed to wait until the movie was over and let the theatrics begin. It was always the same thing, and tonight I just wasn’t in the damn mood for this shit. Tariq was such a pussy sometimes, and it took everything in me not to go off on his ass. Sometimes a mofo needed to get punched in the face, but lucky for him, I was a lady, and it wasn’t worth the broken nail or chipped polish. Deciding to speed things up, I didn’t even bother to wait until the credits were rolling before our in-home show began.

Coming out of my Balenciaga Papier pumps, I grabbed the matching handbag and made my way to the bedroom. This was going to be one of those kinds of nights that I needed to be in some comfortable clothing. My Herve Leger Arabella dress with the matching jacket was not the proper attire for an all-night argument with old jackass. I needed to be down on the ground in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, not standing in six-inch pumps and a $1,200 dress. I didn’t think it would get physical this time (90 percent of the time, I initiated it by taking the first swing), but I needed to be ready just in case.

Stepping into my walk-in closet, which was the size of a master suite, I set my purse down on the oak chest closest to the door. Pressing the button on the wall near my vanity caused the wall to slide to the left, revealing endless pairs of designer shoes by Emilio Pucci, Jimmy Choo, Salvatore Ferragamo, and Badgley Mischka, just to name a few. I was a label whore, and I didn’t give a flying rat’s ass who didn’t like it. I earned my chips and spent them where I felt like it as I saw fit.

Finding the spot where I took my current pair from this morning, I carefully placed them back in their spot in the black section, because you know I kept my shit organized and color-coded. It was the OCD in me, I guessed.

After pressing the button to close the door, I took a quick look in the mirror, remembering to call my stylist, Antonio, in the morning to see if he could fit me in on my lunch break for a quick touch-up and flat iron. Something had to be done about this gray that was popping up on my temples, no doubt caused by my crazy-ass husband, because I refused to believe it was due to aging. Moving farther into my closet, I pressed another button that produced several clothing rounds where I kept my dresses. Carefully stepping out of the soft, cream-colored material, I hung it back up on a silk-covered hanger, convinced that I could probably wear it again before I took it to be cleaned, but knowing I probably wouldn’t.

Now standing in front of one of several full-length mirrors, I took a moment to admire the body I paid good money to get and worked even harder to maintain. With an intense workout regimen, a little nip/tuck here and there, and a high-protein, low-carb diet, my size-ten curves were simply the truth. I owned a nice, round booty that any sister would be proud of. It was firm and sat so high you could put a drink on it. Perky breasts the size of medium guava melons sat nicely in my Dirty Pretty Things bra, and a Brazilian-waxed kitty rested in the matching panties. Everything was toned and tight, just the way it was supposed to be. Milk chocolate skin that was softer than a baby’s ass glistened a little from the diamond-sparkle body lotion I applied earlier in the day. To be hitting almost thirty-five, I looked damn good, and I would be even more on point once those stubborn grays were gone!

Brushing my mid-back-length tresses into a sloppy ponytail, I searched my bottom drawer for a pair of Victoria’s Secret sweats and a T-shirt. I knew I should just stick to the script and eat the spinach salad I picked up on the way home for dinner, but walking in and seeing him in his bag worked my entire nerve, and I needed at least a scoop of ice cream to deal with this bullshit. I was an emotional eater, and at one point in my life, I had ballooned up to almost 250 pounds. I was so depressed it was crazy. I fought tooth and nail to get back down to a desirable size, but every so often my inner fat girl peeked her head out, and I had to fight like hell to drag her back in. This was one of those moments.

Stepping freshly pedicured feet into my favorite Ugg slippers, I took a deep breath and got ready to rumble. This was going to be a long-ass night, and if I was lucky, I could cut the time it would take to argue in half so that I could go to bed. Running a Fortune 500 company was a lot of work and long hours, and a d-i-v-a needed her sleep.

Dragging my feet, I made my way back downstairs only to find this man in the lotus position on the floor in front of the television. Oh, he was really working my set, and I had a few words for his ass. First, I had to get my ice cream, and then it would be on.

Entering the kitchen, I peered through the clear glass door of my refrigerator to see what goodies I had for the taking. I hated when people stood with the damn door open to look inside, so when General Electric came out with this model, I hopped right on it. I was a Frugal Franny in some areas, and PECO was not about to get dibs on extra money from wasting electricity when I had a love affair with Giuseppe Zanotti that I was not about to get help for.

Focused on getting just one scoop, I grabbed a little eight-ounce cup from the cabinet and dished out a small portion of Cherry Chocolate Chunk ice cream from Blue Bunny. This shit was like crack. Grabbing a bottle of Smartwater from the fridge, I sulked into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Enjoying my little snack, I sat in silence and waited until this fool was done with his little fake-ass meditation process. He worked my entire soul down to the bone, and just looking at him made me want to throw my cup at him. He was just so damn extra all the time, and it made me wonder what I ever saw in him.

I wouldn’t lie and say that his gorgeous smile and the glint of his platinum American Express card didn’t have me in the beginning, because it did. But nowadays, it wasn’t enough. He was more of a nuisance than a knight in shining Armani, and I wasn’t sure if I was sticking around to see how this drama played out. As of late, it just wasn’t worth it to me like it used to be.

After about five minutes, he opened his eyes, and I got a good look at those pools of warm caramel that pulled me in five years ago but did absolutely nothing for me now. It just goes to show that you needed more than good looks to keep a sister around. Just throwing that out there for whoever needed to catch it.

“What’s the problem, Tariq?” I asked in a strained voice that I hoped didn’t sound angry from the gate. I didn’t need the whining because he didn’t like my tone, and I needed to get this over with as soon as possible. Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta was about to come on, and I needed my dose of trash TV before I called it a night.

“Why do you think there’s a problem?” he responded as he unfolded his lean, muscular body and easily stood. I tried to control my face from contorting into an angry look, but he was already testing my patience, and I just wasn’t beat for this shit tonight.

“Tariq, please don’t try to play me short. You left the office early today, and when I get here, you’re watching this depressing-ass movie. The same shit you do every time there’s an issue I have to drag out of you. What is the problem now? Let’s not drag it out this time.”

“There isn’t a problem,” he said in an unbothered tone, which pissed me off even more. If nothing else, he knew exactly how to get me turned up. “I need to go out of town to check up on the flow of business in Houston, and I needed to get a head start.”

Here we went with this bullshit. This was factor two of one million on the list of reasons why everything was so shady between us. In understanding that a part of our jobs caused us to be on the road a lot, Tariq spent more time out of town than in. It wasn’t always this way, but now that I thought about it, the last year or so had this man on the move often. Every time I turned around, he had to jet some-damn-where, and then when he got home, he wanted to hit me off with a bullshit dick down that he could have kept to himself. Only sometimes, though. Lately, he hadn’t even been trying when he got back, and I briefly wondered why. Honestly, I was better off finger popping my damn self. It took me less than a minute to bust off and be asleep, and I preferred that to faking it for five minutes with Mr. Quick Popper.

“Oh yeah?” I responded, deciding against dragging it out tonight and just letting it be what it was. He won this round simply on a technicality that I was dead tired, and my Ralph Lauren sheets were calling my name.

“Yeah,” he responded nonchalantly like he didn’t have a care in the world. Point well taken and noted.

“Okay, cool. I’m heading up. Make sure you set the alarm before coming up to bed,” I responded just the same. Normally I would have started an argument, and I wondered if he noticed tonight that I just gave in or if he even cared. I had to admit the lack of response stung a little, but I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction of knowing he put me in my feelings. He wouldn’t get that victory.

“Will do. I love you, Tee,” he said, calling me by the nickname he gave me when we first started dating. I didn’t even bother to respond.

Lifting my body from the couch, I went and set my dirty dish in the sink, running water on it to keep it from getting sticky until I washed it. Then I placed my salad in the fridge to have for lunch the next day. I had to meet with some investors early in the morning to launch a new addition and business venture to the company. I was excited about it, and if I planned to get my workout in before I started my day, I would need to be asleep within the hour.

Turning the TV in the bedroom to VH1, I slipped out of my sweats and into bed, where I let the 3,000-thread-count sheets press against my body, not even concerned that I hadn’t taken my evening shower. Once I set the DVR, I got comfortable, giggling every so often at the antics of Stevie J and Mimi as I drifted off to sleep.

I had a lot on my plate for the next day, and I need to work off some of this frustration. A small smile crept up on my face as I decided to replace my hair appointment with a quick session with my sidepiece. That was just what I needed to get my head on straight, and I could deal with this gray maybe later in the day. After all, it was about to be Wednesday, and I planned to take “hump day” to the next level... pun intended!

I used to love Tracey, really love her. Like, my every thought was about when I would see her again, and when I did see her, thoughts of our next meeting after that would consume my mind. I loved her way before she loved me, and I knew that to be a fact. Tracey had a cockiness to her that wouldn’t allow her to be too soft too early. I had to work on breaking that barrier, and when it felt like nothing could get through that “tough as nails” mentality, she finally gave in to me. It was the happiest day of my life, and I felt like I hit the jackpot.

The saddest day of my life was when I realized I didn’t love her anymore. We were six years into our relationship, and truth be told, I had already invested too much to just walk away and lose everything. Tracey was a go-getter. That was the main reason why our company flourished the way it did. She didn’t wait for others, and that was part of the problem. When you decide to go into business with someone, the decisions are supposed to be mutual among the group. Tracey had a habit of making decisions for both of us because it was convenient for her, regardless of how I felt about any of it. Yeah, she softened up in some aspects. She wasn’t the twenty-four-seven /365 bitch anymore, but she definitely never let go of her bitch tendencies. I could list a million reasons why I loved Tracey, and I could also list twice as many reasons why I didn’t.

The first and the last thing was that she got on my damn nerves. It was her mouth. It seemed like the only time she was quiet was when she had my dick in it, and lately that hadn’t been working either. You ever meet a woman who was just too strong? Like, sit down with all that. She was just a nag. Complained about every-damn-thing. Nothing was ever good enough anymore. It didn’t take much to please her in the beginning, but now I had to be a magician and a psychic at the same damn time to figure out how to make her happy, and I was tired of juggling both of those traits and a career. I chose work. It was easier and didn’t talk back.

So I let the shit dwindle. Missed breakfast here and there turned into not showing up at all for both of us, which turned into missed lunch dates and eventually us merely seeing each other in passing. I saw her at the office every day, but I wasn’t really seeing her. There, she was my colleague. Not the sexy VP all the men in the office drooled over when they thought I wasn’t watching. Little did they know, I didn’t even care. I had her when she was 300 pounds, and I watched the transformation. This new chick with this new body was a mess. They could have her ass. I was sure once the real her crept up, they wouldn’t think she was so hot. I would gladly pass her ass off to one of them, and after a week, I was certain they’d be begging me to take her ass back. Sometimes I wanted us to get back to how it used to be, but I didn’t think I was willing to put in the work.

I wondered sometimes if she missed me, missed us. We used to have a ball together before the other women, and other men on her part, came into play. Tracey loved to fuck, and she wasn’t fucking me. I knew for sure she was giving it to someone else. She had a very large sexual appetite. At one point in our relationship, we would block out an hour and a half three days out of the workweek so that we could meet up at the hotel down the street from the job to get our midday freak on. This even after sex on most mornings and often times the night before. I barely made it through morning meetings just thinking about what we were about to get into. She loved it in every hole, too, and I loved that about her. I wondered who loved that about her now.

We both climbed the ladder fairly quickly in our company, and I questioned if that somehow played a part in our drifting apart. She said on more than one occasion that because she was a woman, she had to work twice as hard to get to the same level as me in the company. We were both one of ten VPs of Marketing, Inc., a company that specialized in information technologies and search engines, located in the Philadelphia office. There were seven locations nationwide. We were the face behind several large corporations that invested in getting their face global. There were two other women who held VP positions in our office, one Asian and one Caucasian.

In Tracey’s head, she was convinced that in spite of her numerous degrees and years of expertise, she may have been given the position to make the company equally diverse. I’d told her plenty of times that if that was all they were looking for, they could have chosen anyone just to look pretty, but she wasn’t trying to hear me. With that in mind, she was determined to not let them ever catch her slipping. Because of that, she had a cold-hearted attitude that made her more feared than respected, and I thought she preferred it that way. Honestly, it just turned the men on more. I was simply annoyed by it and her. She even insinuated that I was given my position because I was one of the “boys.” That pissed me off, because I was just as educated if not more so than any of the VPs there. That was the start of many arguments between us.

After turning the lights out and locking the house down, I went to the basement to make my nightly phone call before heading up to bed. We both had home offices with soundproof walls and private numbers, so even if she came downstairs, she wouldn’t be able to hear what was going on in the office as long as the door was closed. I locked it just to be on the safe side, as well. As I dialed the numbers on the keypad, I wondered how long I would be able to keep this up before I went crazy. It was getting tiring, but it was something that had to be done. I made this bed, so I got comfortable in it. I really didn’t have a choice.

“Tariq?” a soft voice came through on the line. I instantly got annoyed, because I hated stupidity. I called from this number every night. Who else would it be?

“Yes, baby. It’s me,” was my response in spite of my thoughts. I met this chick a few years ago whi. . .