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Synopsis
Dylan Monroe is the kind of chick females love to hate, but children and dogs mysteriously adore. She's a material girl, living in a material world filled with diamonds, furs, limousines, celebrities, and private planes. To the world, she has it all, but behind closed doors, she has nothing. Almost bankrupt, she finds solace with State, a wealthy entrepreneur with a heart of steel, the man who breaks her heart time and time again.
When State leaves her heart in shambles, she turns to Angel, her best friend's brother. She's had a secret crush on him for years. Swept off her feet by her new love, but still mending from the pain of the old one, Dylan finds herself caught up in a web of lies, lust, love, and betrayal. National bestselling author Keisha Ervin delivers a sophisticated love story filled with laughter, witty banter ... and excessive shopping!
Release date: September 1, 2010
Publisher: Urban Books
Print pages: 320
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Material Girl
Keisha Ervin
Dylan Monroe was the type of chick most females loved to hate. Her ego was as wide as the equator and as long as the Mississippi. Everything from her vintage Dior shades to her YSL nail polish screamed diva, but she had every reason to feel like she was that bitch. Since the age of fifteen, she’d been rockin’ Louboutin red bottoms. Taking trips to Paris and St. Tropez was like going to the mall for her.
She’d dated all types of men: white, Latino, Arabic, doctors, lawyers, and politicians. A-List celebrity men, such as the uber famous star of a pirate movie franchise, and even the notorious dread-head rapper from Louisiana had spent sex-crazed, alcohol-induced nights in her bed. For a while she was even one of the many mistresses of a certain famous golf player. Dylan thought about leaking the affair to the media, but she was too embarrassed to come forward. Chicks often hated her and called her a slut, but what people didn’t understand was that Dylan didn’t sleep with random guys just for the pleasure of it. She did it because she thought that maybe, just maybe, one of them could be “the one.”
Yep, Dylan had slept with them all, but none matched the swagger of the one she couldn’t have. His name stayed tattooed on her brain. He was the persistent hunger pang in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away.
For months Dylan had tried her best to put him out of her mind. She’d prayed to God on a nightly basis to help her get over him. She’d torn up all of his pictures, took his number out of her phone, and told her friends to never utter his name, but there he was.
Dylan’s heart thumped loudly in her chest as the palms of her hands moistened with sweat, almost causing her to drop the glass of Chardonnay she held. She could smell the sweet scent of his Clive Christian cologne all the way from across the room. It was strong, intimidating, and overpowering, just like he was.
Sure, other men donned the scent, but none wore it quite like him. She wondered, if she kissed his skin, would it still taste the same on her tongue? Dylan turned around slowly and braced her rapidly beating heart for the sight of his face. Through the crowd of concertgoers she spotted him. He looked even better than he had six months before.
State was the epitome of what a man was supposed to be. He possessed heart-palpitation, dry-mouth, can’t-even-speak good looks. Women across the country pined to be with him. Hailing from Hackney, London, he was six feet, 190 pounds; a Sierra Leonean and Ghanaian god with skin the color of dark chocolate. He owned a thriving record label, a clothing company, two restaurants, and was the co-owner of a professional basketball team.
That night he wore a black L.A. cap, which covered his low cut with waves, but enhanced his piercing brown eyes, defined nose, come-kiss-me lips, and goatee. He rocked your typical hoodboy attire, but with finesse. Dylan swore she never saw a man make a black leather jacket, white V-neck tee, Artful Dodger jeans, and tan suede Tims look so good. He donned a simple yet stunning gold rosary and a Nixon watch.
Not only was he rich and successful, State was her first in every significant moment in her life. He was the first man to ever say no to her, the first to make her want to settle down, the first she’d ever said I love you to, picked out rings with, and made wedding plans with. He was the first man she’d ever become pregnant by, and the first she’d ever had an abortion for. But most importantly, he was the first man to ever break her heart.
In the beginning, what they shared was only supposed to be a casual fling. Dylan never saw herself getting her feelings into it, but soon she found herself out in the streets, calling him her baby. An on-again, off-again three-year relationship filled with mind-numbing sex, shopping sprees, weekend getaways, an unexpected pregnancy, and the promise of them one day getting married had her stuck for a minute.
For a while, Dylan was content with their chaotic relationship, but she didn’t realize that the side effects of dating him may include:
A) Nausea
B) Insomnia
C) Loss of appetite
D) Headache
E) Weight loss
F) Depression
G) Not answering her phone calls at night
H) Non-stop crying until he answered the phone
I) Never wanting to socialize with her friends
J) Random chicks mean-muggin’ her in the club
K) Magnum condoms found in the glove compartment of his car when they went raw
L) Bacterial infection
Tyrannical outbursts when confronted about side effects G, H, I, J, K
Dylan thought things would change, but as soon as State took the proposal of marriage off the table and gave her $500 to have an abortion, she knew she couldn’t play the role of a kept woman anymore. Fed up, she hit State with a text message calling it quits, and decided to keep it moving—until now.
Dylan stood paralyzed. Loud music echoed in her ear. Men scrambled for drinks, while lines of women awaited their time in the mirror before Wale came out on stage to perform. But Dylan was in her own world. How well Wale could rhyme and how much he could get it didn’t mean a thing to her anymore. She was stuck on a tightrope between her heart and common sense. To her, State was the one thing she couldn’t have. His love and commitment was something so unattainable, yet she would give her right rib to retain it.
Dylan was so caught up in his presence that when he noticed her watching him, she had no time to look away. Before she knew it, he was coming her way. Dylan quickly swallowed the huge lump in her throat and gathered her emotions, but the closer State neared, the more she felt faint. None of this was supposed to be happening.
When she left her house, it had been just another typical Saturday night. She’d spent two hours getting her hair and makeup done only to be an hour late to the Grey Goose Presents: Rising Icons concert featuring Wale, who she planned on taking home with her that night. Unwilling to look completely lame, Dylan quickly grabbed the arm of a random cutie and acted as if they knew one another.
“Long time no see,” she said with a smile.
“Excuse me?” The guy looked at her, confused.
“Shhh. Play along.” She spoke out of the side of her mouth.
“Dylan?” State said, standing before her.
Dylan turned her attention from the guy and eyed State as if she didn’t recognize him.
“Really, Dylan?” He looked at her like she was being ridiculous.
“Ohhhhh, State, my bad.” She slapped her hand against her forehead. “How are you?” She hugged him.
“Good. Wassup wit’ you?” He smiled, wrapping his strong arms around her slim waist.
“Nothing,” she gushed nervously, hugging him back tight.
Please don’t smell him. Please don’t smell him, she thought as her nose met with the side of his neck. Fuck! She closed her eyes, cherishing the scent.
“Damn.” He stepped back, still holding her hands. “You look incredible.”
“This old thing?” Dylan looked down at her brand new fuchsia double breasted blazer, black tank top, Fiona Paxton two-toned beaded necklace, black ripped leggings, and Alexander McQueen booties.
“Old or new you, look good as a muthafucka,” State confessed, massaging the sides of her waist while giving her body a once-over glance.
Dylan’s entire body blushed.
To State, she was stunningly beautiful, but in her own unique way. She had a hard but chic edge to her. She rocked her hair in an asymmetrical bob like Rihanna. The two even looked alike. Her skin was a sweet shade of butterscotch, while her eyes were hazel with flecks of green. An array of small tattoos adorned her body, and State wanted nothing more than to take the time with his tongue to find them all.
Okay, Dylan, say something witty and clever, she thought.
“You look . . .” She pointed at his broad chest. “Umm . . .” She looked toward the guy she had been standing with and tried to change the subject. “You know I went to school with—” She realized she didn’t know his name. “Oh my God . . . yeah, so . . .” She laughed.
Okay, dummy, pull it together and don’t ask who he’s here with. You don’t care, she told herself.
“So, you here by yourself?” she asked anyway.
“Yeah, I just swung through for a quick minute. You mind introducing me to your man?”
“Honey, please. This is not my man,” she stressed. “State, this is my friend ... Timmmm—”
“Corey.” The guy spoke up and reached out his hand for a shake.
“Yeah, Corey and I were just catching up on old times. You know . . . gettin’ jiggy wit’ it.” Dylan twisted her butt, doing the old school dance.
Oh my God! Did that just happen?
“You mind if I speak to you in private?” State gestured toward the other side of the room.
“Sure. I’ll talk to you later, Corey!” she said over her shoulder.
He put his hands up to his mouth and yelled back, “But I don’t even know you, lady!”
“That Corey is such a mess.” Dylan laughed, waving him off.
“Sure he is.” State replied, knowing good and well that Dylan didn’t know Corey from a can of paint. “But anyway, if I knew you were gonna be here, I would’ve got here a lot sooner.”
“Is that right?” Dylan tilted her head to the side, not believing him.
“Fuck yeah. I miss the hell outta you,” he answered honestly.
“I can’t tell. I haven’t heard from you in months,” she countered.
“I mean, what was I supposed to do? You just sent me a text like, that’s it, I’m done.”
“And your reply was okay.”
“You made it seem like you had your mind made up, so I had no choice but to go along with what you were sayin’.”
“Mm-hmm.” Dylan twisted her lips to the side as if to say she didn’t believe him.
“But anyway, how you doing? How you been?”
“Good.”
“You know, it’s crazy how I’m running into you like this ’cause I just told C.I. the other day that I wanted to speak to you.” C.I. was State’s cousin and his lawyer.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, it’s been so much shit I wanted to say.”
“Like what?”
“First, let me apologize for anything I did that made you cry. And I know you might be thinkin’ niggah, please, but that’s real talk. I wish that we could go back to the first time we fucked around and do things right, ’cause honestly, my life ain’t been nothing without you.”
Dylan wanted to take his words with a grain of salt, but State always knew the right words to get inside her head. She wished she could say that love didn’t live in her heart anymore for him, but it did, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get him out of her system.
“I missed you too,” Dylan opened up and confessed.
“C’mon.” He extended his hand.
“Where we going? The concert is about to start.”
“Man, fuck that. Let’s go back to the crib.”
Dylan couldn’t even front and act like she didn’t want to. “I was thinking the exact same thing.” She placed down her drink and took his hand.
The next thing Dylan knew, she and State were no longer discussing what they’d been up to or how much they’d missed seeing each other. Instead, moans of gratification filled her bedroom as he rocked inside her slowly. The ten inches of hard, pulsating dick inside her was thick and delicious.
“Shhhhhhhit,” she groaned as she bounced up and down on his cock.
Sure, it was wrong, sleeping with a man she’d sworn off months earlier, but the sensation of him penetrating her and his lips and tongue gliding across her throat was spellbinding. Dylan wrapped her arms around his back and held on tight.
A swell of muscles encompassed his upper half. State lifted them both off of the bed and placed her body against the wall. The rough surface heightened her pleasure. His warm mouth placed a trail of caramel kisses from her lips down to her erect nipples with velvet ease.
Dylan gasped for air as her thighs rested on his strong shoulders. State had a champagne tongue, full of hunger and lust. Shamelessly, he sucked the wine from her grape until he was satisfied and she could no longer scream shouts of ecstasy.
State gripped the curves of her hips with a look of lust in his eyes. The freakiness they were creating was sinfully decadent. It was as if they were space ships in the night, searching for new heights of erotic bliss.
Thoughts of how easily he had let her go entered Dylan’s mind, but she’d deal with that later. State was hitting her with the death stroke. She could feel his dick all the way up in her rib cage. Fervently, she kissed his soft lips. Each touch of his mouth caused her to fall further down the rabbit hole of denial.
State wrapped his arms around Dylan’s small waist and carried her back over to the bed. Her plump ass now faced him. He eagerly entered her from behind.
“Mmmm, yessssssss!” She clutched the sheets tight.
“That’s how you want it?” he asked, grinding his hips in a circular motion.
“Yes! Oh my God, I missed this dick!” Dylan screamed, as her first orgasm approached.
A surge of energy took over her body, causing her to shake while warm cream slid down her inner thigh. She could hear his cell phone ringing in the distance, but State ignored the call.
State couldn’t take it anymore. Ready to explode, he pulled out and placed hot lava onto her back.
As the seconds turned to minutes and the minutes turned to hours, Dylan and State became one. In between the faint murmur of fading heartbeats, they explored the hidden areas of each other’s bodies that no one else had dared to find.
The next morning, Dylan awoke expecting to see his sleeping face, but in its place was a hand-tied bouquet of ivory calla lilies and yellow-throated green cymbidium orchids. They were the prettiest flowers she’d ever seen. Dylan sat up and placed them up to her nose. The scent was magical. To her surprise, tucked inside the bouquet was a small note. It simply said:
A huge smile graced the corners of Dylan’s lips. A part of her felt whole again. Even though she’d tried to change her environment and her mindset, the feelings she had for State still lingered underneath the surface.
Dylan was determined, though, not to fall head over heels for him. State hadn’t lived up to his word before, and there was no way in hell she would allow him to play her for a fool once more.
No matter how hard they tried to stay away from one another, State always knew he and Dylan would end up back together again. What they shared was special. Homegirl was fly in every sense of the word. She had a swagger like no other. She was beautiful, vibrant, quirky, and fun to be around. She was his backbone. But three years into their relationship, his feelings changed, and he found himself having to be high just to be around her.
At that point, things were never cool between them. Every five seconds they were arguing and fighting over dumb shit. If Dylan looked at him the wrong way or breathed too loud, he got an attitude. And although he cared deeply for her, State found Dylan to be lazy, undetermined, and a little dingy at times. Plus, every five seconds she was pushing the idea of marriage down his throat. She just wouldn’t let the shit come natural. State couldn’t even take a dump without seeing a bridal magazine somewhere. The only thing Dylan wanted to watch was Bridezillas and a bunch of other WE-TV nonsense. It got to the point that he began to feel claustrophobic.
To him, things were going outside of moving too fast. State had always been a playboy, and was very happy to be one. He loved his Hugh Hefner lifestyle, and was admired around the world for it.
Dylan had other things in mind, though. She had their entire life planned out, and although State loved her, at the time he wasn’t ready for a wife and baby. So, while she walked around dreaming of the perfect house with a white picket fence, State did the only thing he knew how to do and pulled back. He made it perfectly clear to Dylan that none of the things she needed from him were going to happen. And yeah, he knew she would be disappointed, but never in a million years did he think she’d get tired and leave.
Unfortunately, State persisted to reminisce about the way she kissed his lips. The way she loved him too much. Everything about her stayed in the forefront of his mind; but despite his feelings for her, State still found solace in someone new.
Back at home, he unlocked his door and entered his multimillion-dollar apartment. Pure pandemonium was going on inside. Stylists and personal assistants were moving at lightning speed, making calls on their BlackBerry smartphones, sending e-mails, picking out clothes, and packing luggage. State wasn’t at all fazed by the madness. This was his life.
“Yo’, Ash, where you at?” he called out, placing down his keys.
“I’m in here,” she yelled from upstairs.
State took the steps two at a time and walked into his bedroom. Clothes, shoes, and bags were sprawled everywhere, and in the midst of it all was his wife, Ashton. She was heading out on the first leg of her European tour.
Even without any makeup she was strikingly beautiful. Ashton was a five foot three, 110-pound, African American, Filipino, West Indian and Mexican R&B diva. They’d had a whirlwind love affair that so far had only spanned three months. State never thought that he would like someone as much as he did Dylan, but Ashton captured his heart with just one wink of the eye. Plus, she was good for his career. State never thought it would happen, but on a drunken night in Vegas, he and Ashton decided to go the Little White Chapel and get married.
“Hey, baby. I missed you.” She smiled, jumping over stuff to get to him.
“I miss you too.” He squeezed her tight and kissed her lips.
“I’ve been callin’ you all night. I didn’t think you were going to make it home before I left. Did y’all get the track finished?”
“Yeah,” State lied.
During one of his and Dylan’s sex breaks, he’d sneaked off into the bathroom and texted Ashton to let her know he’d be in the studio all night.
“Good. It sucks that I won’t be able to take my ring with me while I’m gone.” She held up her left hand and admired her Harry Winston emerald-cut 21.16 carat diamond ring.
“You’ll get to wear it all you want once the tour is over. Then we’ll go public and have the wedding you always dreamed of.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m just happy that I get to have you all to myself before I fly out tonight.” She unbuttoned his pants.
“What you lookin’ for?” State kissed her neck and massaged her butt.
“This.” Ashton bit her bottom lip. Horny as hell, she unzipped his jeans and pulled out his hard dick.
Gazing up into his brown eyes, she eased her way down. State prayed that she wouldn’t smell the scent of another woman on him. Once her pink, pouty lips hit the tip of his dick and she took him in inch by inch, State knew he was in the clear. Holding his head back, he closed his eyes and anticipated what was sure to be an explosive orgasm.
Dylan was an hour late for breakfast with the girls. That morning, they were all meeting at Crepes: Etc., which was only a few blocks away from her crib. After showering and getting dressed, Dylan hailed a cab and rushed inside the restaurant. To her surprise, neither one of her friends were there. Perturbed and relieved at the same time, Dylan found a seat near the window and waited.
Where are these hoes at? She wondered after twenty minutes had passed.
Dylan looked out the window to see if she could spot them anywhere. Suddenly, she saw Billie, her best friend, and her cousin Teyona (a.k.a. Tee-Tee, a.k.a. Dick ’em Down Diva) walking toward the restaurant.
Billie, the most conservative of the bunch, was newly separated from her husband of eleven years, St. Louis Rams superstar Cain Townsend. She was a mother of three and the “HBIC” of St. Louis. Billie was not only the president of the Rams Wives’ Club, but she also served on the board of the St. Louis Art Museum, was the president of her building’s board, and the president of the PTA. Most industry wives feared her. Billie was known for being cold and aloof, but to Dylan she was nothing but supportive and loving.
Tee-Tee, on the other hand, was everything Billie wasn’t. He was overly eccentric, loud, opinionated, and never took anything too seriously. He enjoyed the company of a different man almost every night of the week, and there wasn’t a pair of high heels in the world he didn’t love.
“Hey, girl!” He waved as he and Billie passed the window.
Instead of speaking, Dylan hit him with the middle finger and smiled.
“Took y’all long enough. Y’all ass can’t never get nowhere on time,” she griped as they sat down.
“Don’t blame me. Blame drunk-ass.” Billie pointed with her head toward Tee-Tee.
“Heffa, don’t start,” Tee-Tee warned as he secured his allblack Chanel shades over his eyes. The bright lights and the loud chatter inside the restaurant were killing him softly.
“Um, you do realize that you’re not outside anymore?” Dylan looked at him like he was crazy.
“Hoooooooooooney.” He popped his lips. “If you had a night like I did, you would have on shades too.”
“Wow.” Dylan shook her head, knowing he had a hangover.
“Did you order yet?” Billie asked.
“No, I’m not inconsiderate like you two skanks,” Dylan quipped.
“Oh, bitch, get over it.” Billie scrunched up her face.
“I hope you choke on your food.” Dylan joked, yawning.
“Speaking of choking . . .” Tee-Tee perked up. “Why, last night I was wit’ this guy, right, so we gettin’ it poppin’. He kissin’ me in all the right places, sayin’ all the right things, so I’m ready for the dick. Now, y’all know I’m a bad bitch. There ain’t a dick out her. . .
She’d dated all types of men: white, Latino, Arabic, doctors, lawyers, and politicians. A-List celebrity men, such as the uber famous star of a pirate movie franchise, and even the notorious dread-head rapper from Louisiana had spent sex-crazed, alcohol-induced nights in her bed. For a while she was even one of the many mistresses of a certain famous golf player. Dylan thought about leaking the affair to the media, but she was too embarrassed to come forward. Chicks often hated her and called her a slut, but what people didn’t understand was that Dylan didn’t sleep with random guys just for the pleasure of it. She did it because she thought that maybe, just maybe, one of them could be “the one.”
Yep, Dylan had slept with them all, but none matched the swagger of the one she couldn’t have. His name stayed tattooed on her brain. He was the persistent hunger pang in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away.
For months Dylan had tried her best to put him out of her mind. She’d prayed to God on a nightly basis to help her get over him. She’d torn up all of his pictures, took his number out of her phone, and told her friends to never utter his name, but there he was.
Dylan’s heart thumped loudly in her chest as the palms of her hands moistened with sweat, almost causing her to drop the glass of Chardonnay she held. She could smell the sweet scent of his Clive Christian cologne all the way from across the room. It was strong, intimidating, and overpowering, just like he was.
Sure, other men donned the scent, but none wore it quite like him. She wondered, if she kissed his skin, would it still taste the same on her tongue? Dylan turned around slowly and braced her rapidly beating heart for the sight of his face. Through the crowd of concertgoers she spotted him. He looked even better than he had six months before.
State was the epitome of what a man was supposed to be. He possessed heart-palpitation, dry-mouth, can’t-even-speak good looks. Women across the country pined to be with him. Hailing from Hackney, London, he was six feet, 190 pounds; a Sierra Leonean and Ghanaian god with skin the color of dark chocolate. He owned a thriving record label, a clothing company, two restaurants, and was the co-owner of a professional basketball team.
That night he wore a black L.A. cap, which covered his low cut with waves, but enhanced his piercing brown eyes, defined nose, come-kiss-me lips, and goatee. He rocked your typical hoodboy attire, but with finesse. Dylan swore she never saw a man make a black leather jacket, white V-neck tee, Artful Dodger jeans, and tan suede Tims look so good. He donned a simple yet stunning gold rosary and a Nixon watch.
Not only was he rich and successful, State was her first in every significant moment in her life. He was the first man to ever say no to her, the first to make her want to settle down, the first she’d ever said I love you to, picked out rings with, and made wedding plans with. He was the first man she’d ever become pregnant by, and the first she’d ever had an abortion for. But most importantly, he was the first man to ever break her heart.
In the beginning, what they shared was only supposed to be a casual fling. Dylan never saw herself getting her feelings into it, but soon she found herself out in the streets, calling him her baby. An on-again, off-again three-year relationship filled with mind-numbing sex, shopping sprees, weekend getaways, an unexpected pregnancy, and the promise of them one day getting married had her stuck for a minute.
For a while, Dylan was content with their chaotic relationship, but she didn’t realize that the side effects of dating him may include:
A) Nausea
B) Insomnia
C) Loss of appetite
D) Headache
E) Weight loss
F) Depression
G) Not answering her phone calls at night
H) Non-stop crying until he answered the phone
I) Never wanting to socialize with her friends
J) Random chicks mean-muggin’ her in the club
K) Magnum condoms found in the glove compartment of his car when they went raw
L) Bacterial infection
Tyrannical outbursts when confronted about side effects G, H, I, J, K
Dylan thought things would change, but as soon as State took the proposal of marriage off the table and gave her $500 to have an abortion, she knew she couldn’t play the role of a kept woman anymore. Fed up, she hit State with a text message calling it quits, and decided to keep it moving—until now.
Dylan stood paralyzed. Loud music echoed in her ear. Men scrambled for drinks, while lines of women awaited their time in the mirror before Wale came out on stage to perform. But Dylan was in her own world. How well Wale could rhyme and how much he could get it didn’t mean a thing to her anymore. She was stuck on a tightrope between her heart and common sense. To her, State was the one thing she couldn’t have. His love and commitment was something so unattainable, yet she would give her right rib to retain it.
Dylan was so caught up in his presence that when he noticed her watching him, she had no time to look away. Before she knew it, he was coming her way. Dylan quickly swallowed the huge lump in her throat and gathered her emotions, but the closer State neared, the more she felt faint. None of this was supposed to be happening.
When she left her house, it had been just another typical Saturday night. She’d spent two hours getting her hair and makeup done only to be an hour late to the Grey Goose Presents: Rising Icons concert featuring Wale, who she planned on taking home with her that night. Unwilling to look completely lame, Dylan quickly grabbed the arm of a random cutie and acted as if they knew one another.
“Long time no see,” she said with a smile.
“Excuse me?” The guy looked at her, confused.
“Shhh. Play along.” She spoke out of the side of her mouth.
“Dylan?” State said, standing before her.
Dylan turned her attention from the guy and eyed State as if she didn’t recognize him.
“Really, Dylan?” He looked at her like she was being ridiculous.
“Ohhhhh, State, my bad.” She slapped her hand against her forehead. “How are you?” She hugged him.
“Good. Wassup wit’ you?” He smiled, wrapping his strong arms around her slim waist.
“Nothing,” she gushed nervously, hugging him back tight.
Please don’t smell him. Please don’t smell him, she thought as her nose met with the side of his neck. Fuck! She closed her eyes, cherishing the scent.
“Damn.” He stepped back, still holding her hands. “You look incredible.”
“This old thing?” Dylan looked down at her brand new fuchsia double breasted blazer, black tank top, Fiona Paxton two-toned beaded necklace, black ripped leggings, and Alexander McQueen booties.
“Old or new you, look good as a muthafucka,” State confessed, massaging the sides of her waist while giving her body a once-over glance.
Dylan’s entire body blushed.
To State, she was stunningly beautiful, but in her own unique way. She had a hard but chic edge to her. She rocked her hair in an asymmetrical bob like Rihanna. The two even looked alike. Her skin was a sweet shade of butterscotch, while her eyes were hazel with flecks of green. An array of small tattoos adorned her body, and State wanted nothing more than to take the time with his tongue to find them all.
Okay, Dylan, say something witty and clever, she thought.
“You look . . .” She pointed at his broad chest. “Umm . . .” She looked toward the guy she had been standing with and tried to change the subject. “You know I went to school with—” She realized she didn’t know his name. “Oh my God . . . yeah, so . . .” She laughed.
Okay, dummy, pull it together and don’t ask who he’s here with. You don’t care, she told herself.
“So, you here by yourself?” she asked anyway.
“Yeah, I just swung through for a quick minute. You mind introducing me to your man?”
“Honey, please. This is not my man,” she stressed. “State, this is my friend ... Timmmm—”
“Corey.” The guy spoke up and reached out his hand for a shake.
“Yeah, Corey and I were just catching up on old times. You know . . . gettin’ jiggy wit’ it.” Dylan twisted her butt, doing the old school dance.
Oh my God! Did that just happen?
“You mind if I speak to you in private?” State gestured toward the other side of the room.
“Sure. I’ll talk to you later, Corey!” she said over her shoulder.
He put his hands up to his mouth and yelled back, “But I don’t even know you, lady!”
“That Corey is such a mess.” Dylan laughed, waving him off.
“Sure he is.” State replied, knowing good and well that Dylan didn’t know Corey from a can of paint. “But anyway, if I knew you were gonna be here, I would’ve got here a lot sooner.”
“Is that right?” Dylan tilted her head to the side, not believing him.
“Fuck yeah. I miss the hell outta you,” he answered honestly.
“I can’t tell. I haven’t heard from you in months,” she countered.
“I mean, what was I supposed to do? You just sent me a text like, that’s it, I’m done.”
“And your reply was okay.”
“You made it seem like you had your mind made up, so I had no choice but to go along with what you were sayin’.”
“Mm-hmm.” Dylan twisted her lips to the side as if to say she didn’t believe him.
“But anyway, how you doing? How you been?”
“Good.”
“You know, it’s crazy how I’m running into you like this ’cause I just told C.I. the other day that I wanted to speak to you.” C.I. was State’s cousin and his lawyer.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, it’s been so much shit I wanted to say.”
“Like what?”
“First, let me apologize for anything I did that made you cry. And I know you might be thinkin’ niggah, please, but that’s real talk. I wish that we could go back to the first time we fucked around and do things right, ’cause honestly, my life ain’t been nothing without you.”
Dylan wanted to take his words with a grain of salt, but State always knew the right words to get inside her head. She wished she could say that love didn’t live in her heart anymore for him, but it did, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get him out of her system.
“I missed you too,” Dylan opened up and confessed.
“C’mon.” He extended his hand.
“Where we going? The concert is about to start.”
“Man, fuck that. Let’s go back to the crib.”
Dylan couldn’t even front and act like she didn’t want to. “I was thinking the exact same thing.” She placed down her drink and took his hand.
The next thing Dylan knew, she and State were no longer discussing what they’d been up to or how much they’d missed seeing each other. Instead, moans of gratification filled her bedroom as he rocked inside her slowly. The ten inches of hard, pulsating dick inside her was thick and delicious.
“Shhhhhhhit,” she groaned as she bounced up and down on his cock.
Sure, it was wrong, sleeping with a man she’d sworn off months earlier, but the sensation of him penetrating her and his lips and tongue gliding across her throat was spellbinding. Dylan wrapped her arms around his back and held on tight.
A swell of muscles encompassed his upper half. State lifted them both off of the bed and placed her body against the wall. The rough surface heightened her pleasure. His warm mouth placed a trail of caramel kisses from her lips down to her erect nipples with velvet ease.
Dylan gasped for air as her thighs rested on his strong shoulders. State had a champagne tongue, full of hunger and lust. Shamelessly, he sucked the wine from her grape until he was satisfied and she could no longer scream shouts of ecstasy.
State gripped the curves of her hips with a look of lust in his eyes. The freakiness they were creating was sinfully decadent. It was as if they were space ships in the night, searching for new heights of erotic bliss.
Thoughts of how easily he had let her go entered Dylan’s mind, but she’d deal with that later. State was hitting her with the death stroke. She could feel his dick all the way up in her rib cage. Fervently, she kissed his soft lips. Each touch of his mouth caused her to fall further down the rabbit hole of denial.
State wrapped his arms around Dylan’s small waist and carried her back over to the bed. Her plump ass now faced him. He eagerly entered her from behind.
“Mmmm, yessssssss!” She clutched the sheets tight.
“That’s how you want it?” he asked, grinding his hips in a circular motion.
“Yes! Oh my God, I missed this dick!” Dylan screamed, as her first orgasm approached.
A surge of energy took over her body, causing her to shake while warm cream slid down her inner thigh. She could hear his cell phone ringing in the distance, but State ignored the call.
State couldn’t take it anymore. Ready to explode, he pulled out and placed hot lava onto her back.
As the seconds turned to minutes and the minutes turned to hours, Dylan and State became one. In between the faint murmur of fading heartbeats, they explored the hidden areas of each other’s bodies that no one else had dared to find.
The next morning, Dylan awoke expecting to see his sleeping face, but in its place was a hand-tied bouquet of ivory calla lilies and yellow-throated green cymbidium orchids. They were the prettiest flowers she’d ever seen. Dylan sat up and placed them up to her nose. The scent was magical. To her surprise, tucked inside the bouquet was a small note. It simply said:
A huge smile graced the corners of Dylan’s lips. A part of her felt whole again. Even though she’d tried to change her environment and her mindset, the feelings she had for State still lingered underneath the surface.
Dylan was determined, though, not to fall head over heels for him. State hadn’t lived up to his word before, and there was no way in hell she would allow him to play her for a fool once more.
No matter how hard they tried to stay away from one another, State always knew he and Dylan would end up back together again. What they shared was special. Homegirl was fly in every sense of the word. She had a swagger like no other. She was beautiful, vibrant, quirky, and fun to be around. She was his backbone. But three years into their relationship, his feelings changed, and he found himself having to be high just to be around her.
At that point, things were never cool between them. Every five seconds they were arguing and fighting over dumb shit. If Dylan looked at him the wrong way or breathed too loud, he got an attitude. And although he cared deeply for her, State found Dylan to be lazy, undetermined, and a little dingy at times. Plus, every five seconds she was pushing the idea of marriage down his throat. She just wouldn’t let the shit come natural. State couldn’t even take a dump without seeing a bridal magazine somewhere. The only thing Dylan wanted to watch was Bridezillas and a bunch of other WE-TV nonsense. It got to the point that he began to feel claustrophobic.
To him, things were going outside of moving too fast. State had always been a playboy, and was very happy to be one. He loved his Hugh Hefner lifestyle, and was admired around the world for it.
Dylan had other things in mind, though. She had their entire life planned out, and although State loved her, at the time he wasn’t ready for a wife and baby. So, while she walked around dreaming of the perfect house with a white picket fence, State did the only thing he knew how to do and pulled back. He made it perfectly clear to Dylan that none of the things she needed from him were going to happen. And yeah, he knew she would be disappointed, but never in a million years did he think she’d get tired and leave.
Unfortunately, State persisted to reminisce about the way she kissed his lips. The way she loved him too much. Everything about her stayed in the forefront of his mind; but despite his feelings for her, State still found solace in someone new.
Back at home, he unlocked his door and entered his multimillion-dollar apartment. Pure pandemonium was going on inside. Stylists and personal assistants were moving at lightning speed, making calls on their BlackBerry smartphones, sending e-mails, picking out clothes, and packing luggage. State wasn’t at all fazed by the madness. This was his life.
“Yo’, Ash, where you at?” he called out, placing down his keys.
“I’m in here,” she yelled from upstairs.
State took the steps two at a time and walked into his bedroom. Clothes, shoes, and bags were sprawled everywhere, and in the midst of it all was his wife, Ashton. She was heading out on the first leg of her European tour.
Even without any makeup she was strikingly beautiful. Ashton was a five foot three, 110-pound, African American, Filipino, West Indian and Mexican R&B diva. They’d had a whirlwind love affair that so far had only spanned three months. State never thought that he would like someone as much as he did Dylan, but Ashton captured his heart with just one wink of the eye. Plus, she was good for his career. State never thought it would happen, but on a drunken night in Vegas, he and Ashton decided to go the Little White Chapel and get married.
“Hey, baby. I missed you.” She smiled, jumping over stuff to get to him.
“I miss you too.” He squeezed her tight and kissed her lips.
“I’ve been callin’ you all night. I didn’t think you were going to make it home before I left. Did y’all get the track finished?”
“Yeah,” State lied.
During one of his and Dylan’s sex breaks, he’d sneaked off into the bathroom and texted Ashton to let her know he’d be in the studio all night.
“Good. It sucks that I won’t be able to take my ring with me while I’m gone.” She held up her left hand and admired her Harry Winston emerald-cut 21.16 carat diamond ring.
“You’ll get to wear it all you want once the tour is over. Then we’ll go public and have the wedding you always dreamed of.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m just happy that I get to have you all to myself before I fly out tonight.” She unbuttoned his pants.
“What you lookin’ for?” State kissed her neck and massaged her butt.
“This.” Ashton bit her bottom lip. Horny as hell, she unzipped his jeans and pulled out his hard dick.
Gazing up into his brown eyes, she eased her way down. State prayed that she wouldn’t smell the scent of another woman on him. Once her pink, pouty lips hit the tip of his dick and she took him in inch by inch, State knew he was in the clear. Holding his head back, he closed his eyes and anticipated what was sure to be an explosive orgasm.
Dylan was an hour late for breakfast with the girls. That morning, they were all meeting at Crepes: Etc., which was only a few blocks away from her crib. After showering and getting dressed, Dylan hailed a cab and rushed inside the restaurant. To her surprise, neither one of her friends were there. Perturbed and relieved at the same time, Dylan found a seat near the window and waited.
Where are these hoes at? She wondered after twenty minutes had passed.
Dylan looked out the window to see if she could spot them anywhere. Suddenly, she saw Billie, her best friend, and her cousin Teyona (a.k.a. Tee-Tee, a.k.a. Dick ’em Down Diva) walking toward the restaurant.
Billie, the most conservative of the bunch, was newly separated from her husband of eleven years, St. Louis Rams superstar Cain Townsend. She was a mother of three and the “HBIC” of St. Louis. Billie was not only the president of the Rams Wives’ Club, but she also served on the board of the St. Louis Art Museum, was the president of her building’s board, and the president of the PTA. Most industry wives feared her. Billie was known for being cold and aloof, but to Dylan she was nothing but supportive and loving.
Tee-Tee, on the other hand, was everything Billie wasn’t. He was overly eccentric, loud, opinionated, and never took anything too seriously. He enjoyed the company of a different man almost every night of the week, and there wasn’t a pair of high heels in the world he didn’t love.
“Hey, girl!” He waved as he and Billie passed the window.
Instead of speaking, Dylan hit him with the middle finger and smiled.
“Took y’all long enough. Y’all ass can’t never get nowhere on time,” she griped as they sat down.
“Don’t blame me. Blame drunk-ass.” Billie pointed with her head toward Tee-Tee.
“Heffa, don’t start,” Tee-Tee warned as he secured his allblack Chanel shades over his eyes. The bright lights and the loud chatter inside the restaurant were killing him softly.
“Um, you do realize that you’re not outside anymore?” Dylan looked at him like he was crazy.
“Hoooooooooooney.” He popped his lips. “If you had a night like I did, you would have on shades too.”
“Wow.” Dylan shook her head, knowing he had a hangover.
“Did you order yet?” Billie asked.
“No, I’m not inconsiderate like you two skanks,” Dylan quipped.
“Oh, bitch, get over it.” Billie scrunched up her face.
“I hope you choke on your food.” Dylan joked, yawning.
“Speaking of choking . . .” Tee-Tee perked up. “Why, last night I was wit’ this guy, right, so we gettin’ it poppin’. He kissin’ me in all the right places, sayin’ all the right things, so I’m ready for the dick. Now, y’all know I’m a bad bitch. There ain’t a dick out her. . .
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