Soulmates Dissipate

Book 1: Soulmates Dissipate

by Mary B. Morrison

Genres: African American; African American Women's Fiction; African American Romance

Synopsis

A soulful, sexy tale of true love tested, this bestselling debut novel began an exciting series that continues to explore life's most intense relationships. . . Fashion photographer Jada Diamond Tanner may have her pick of fine men, but no one has captured her heart like gorgeous financial advisor Wellington Jones. From their first embrace, Jada knows he is the soulmate she has waited for. But while the love she shares with Wellington is exhilarating, Jada faces challenges she never imagined--from a beautiful rival, hungry for love, and from Wellington's overbearing socialite mother, who believes Jada will never fit into her circle. Forced to make difficult choices, Jada learns painful lessons about trust and commitment. . .and discovers the courage to celebrate each day, with or without the man she loves.

Release date: April 1, 2003

Publisher: Kensington

Print pages: 256

Sample

She vividly remembered their first kiss. Wellington Jones gently placed his strong caramel-colored hand at the nape of her dark chocolate neck and whispered, “Diamond, I’ve wanted to kiss you all night. May I?”

Jada Diamond Tanner struggled to maintain her composure, but Wellington was making it increasingly difficult. How was she to respond without seeming anxious to kiss this tall, sexy man she’d known for all of sixty minutes, give or take ten?

She paused, gazed directly into his eyes, and replied, “Only if I choose where you kiss me.” The nearby crowd in the noisy garage became silent. Valet attendants dressed in red jackets and black pants hurried to deliver cars. Although the concert was over, I’ve wanted to kiss you all night was music to her ears.

Wellington seductively shrugged his left shoulder, nodded, and winked his left eye. He looked like a pro but not at all like a player. The outline of his black Armani suit highlighted all his muscles. The scent of his cologne traveled in the cool fall night breeze, wrapped around all her senses and danced in her hair. The full moon glowed. His bald head glistened. His thick black eyebrows complemented his dreamy midnight eyes.

Ladylike, she extended her left hand, because it was more sensuous and sensitive to touch than her right. Plus, she wanted to see how creative this man was, and whether he possessed qualitative skills that would interest her in taking the relationship to a hotter level. She was cool, calm, and collected, on the outside.

Slowly, he removed his right hand from underneath her dark silky hair, which flowed down to the center of her back. Beep. Beep. “Would someone please move this car!” shouted the man in the black Lexus. She focused, as if they were the only two in the garage. Wellington never missed a beat. He placed Jada’s left hand into his right. A long steady flow of air quietly entered her nostrils. Their souls gelled. Her spirit danced. Smooth man. Better proceed with caution. Although she wasn’t convinced, he was definitely standing in front of the pitcher’s mound prepared to bat.

Like watching a video in slow motion, he drew her French-manicured hand closer. He licked his lips and positioned his tongue between her index and ring fingers. His tongue penetrated her crevice while his full caramel lips—with a trace of natural cocoa—warmly encircled her adjoining knuckles. She closed her eyes. Moisture seeped between her fingers and thighs. This man had knocked more than the ball out of the park!

Unexpectedly, her twenty-six-inch waist moved forward. Her shoulders and thirty-six-inch hips jerked backward, in unison. It was Monday morning. Jada sat at her bedroom vanity and gazed out the window. She daydreamed about that kiss. One by one the treetops came into focus. Lots of tall evergreen trees stood behind her penthouse. They swayed back and forth. Fresh air. Serenity. She loved California. So far, Oakland was the only place she’d lived.

Jada looked at the digital clock on her cherry-wood nightstand. It was six o’clock. Time to begin her daily transformation from looking like Sleeping Beauty to becoming irresistibly drop-dead gorgeous. Time to get ready for work.

Photo shooting the finest male models from coast to coast was a tough job. She’d had a passion for photography since she was six years old and an infatuation with great-looking men as long as she could remember.

Unable to move, she sat, thinking about her father. Although he’d passed away three years, seven months, and ten days ago, he’d never left her. She could still hear his deep, Southern drawl. “Diamond.” He’d always call her by her middle name. “There’s nothing like time off from work with a job, with pay. If you don’t have no job, honey, you don’t need no time off.” Daddy was right; he was always right. Jada smiled. Today was definitely designed with Diamond in mind.

Mr. Terrance Murphy was the new owner of Sensations Communications. He’d purchased the company a year ago when the previous owners liquidated their assets.

The phone rang six times without an answer. Jada’s finger curved toward the off button. Then faintly she heard:

“Sensations Communications.”

“Hi. Karen. I’m glad you answered. I was just about to hang up.”

Karen was Jada’s loyal assistant, or so she thought.

“Oh, Jada girl. You know I’m here every morning at six-thirty on the dot.”

“Yeah, I know. Listen. I won’t be in today, so call Marvin Jackson and reschedule him for Thursday at the same time. Reschedule my Thursday trip to Los Angeles to early Saturday morning. I must arrive no later than seven. And Karen, be sure to call my L.A. client, Terrell Morgan. Tell him he’s rescheduled for eight o’clock.”

“Consider it done. Will you be in tomorrow?” asked Karen.

“I’ll see you bright and early. Good-bye.”

“Bye.”

Jada pressed nine on the speed dial. Before the phone rang, she hit the off button. Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today. She decided to surprise her fiancé. He had recently moved his financial advisory business, Wellington Jones and Associates, into his home.

Jada cherished surprises. All of them had been good, so far. Her parents bought her first camera when she was seven. It wasn’t her birthday. She traveled with her best friend on a cruise to Mexico when she was eighteen. In college, she received four marriage proposals. “No. No. No. No,” she replied each time. She “crossed her t’s and dotted her i’s.” She refused to be any man’s showpiece. Confidence was a major component of her Lady Leo characteristic.

Perfect. Jada loved most things hot and steamy. She stepped into the shower and lathered her purple scrunchie with strawberries and peaches shower cream. Leisurely she stroked each part of her five-foot nine-inch temple. The water pulsated against her breasts. Her chocolate nipples hardened. Unable to resist, she licked each one. She turned up the water just a notch, parted her legs, spread her lips, and rotated her clit to the perfect beat. Her eyes closed. Knees bent. Quickly she suppressed her flow.

The mist suspended in air. Jada stepped onto the purple, green, and gold rug. It was a gift from Wellington while they were at the Mardi Gras in Nawlins. She wrapped the matching towel around her waist and brushed her pearly white teeth. The combined results of Daddy’s money, and the three years she’d worn braces.

Jada’s hazel-colored almond-shaped eyes reflected from the bathroom mirror. Her slender fingers caressed her radiant skin with chocolate-flavored cocoa butter lite. She glanced at her benwa balls and smiled, knowing she would use the real thing today. Jada loved being a woman. She’d do coochie crunches all day long and the men didn’t have a clue. If he was boring, she’d nonchalantly squeeze her gold balls. “Okay, that’s ten sets, ten reps.” On the other hand, if he was interesting, she’d grip so hard she could hear the metal balls grind. She’d mask. And enjoy multiple orgasms.

She looked at the clock. It was 8:00 A.M. Keys. Purse. Sunglasses. The scent of Zahra and Eunice lingered. The white cotton ankle-length dress with thigh-high splits gently clung. Her diamond anklet—Daddy bought for Valentine’s Day before he died—sparkled. She grabbed her FUBU travel bag with lingerie gear intact. Body and Soul was her favorite “gear” store. They catered to women of contour.

The front and back splits bared her chocolate thighs to the sun while she cruised in her red convertible. Through her dark designer sunglasses, traffic on the Bay Bridge flowed. Traffic along the Peninsula was a breeze. Her ponytail dangled in the air. The projected high was one hundred degrees. Thoughts of making love on Wellington’s patio by the pool increased her body heat. Let’s get it on. Oh, baby, let’s get it on, echoed on KBLX-FM 102.9. Jada loved to sing ahead of her favorite songs. She adored Marvin Gaye.

She shifted to a lower gear. The engine roared three-quarters of a mile, until she reached the last house up the hill. An unfamiliar car with D.C. plates sat in the circular driveway between Wellington’s indigo Mercedes and black Expedition. Oh well, he had thousands of clients. Probably one of his out-of-state’s checking on their portfolio.

Jada looked in the rearview mirror. Hair. Makeup. Flawless. Her peripheral vision detected movement on the balcony above. She glimpsed over the windshield. A beautiful woman disappeared inside Wellington’s bedroom. Jada’s heart raced faster than the hum of the engine.

She tried to shake it off. She rang the bell. Wellington opened the door. His black silk pajama pants—imported from Italy—hung below his waistline. Thoughts of the mysterious woman in her man’s bedroom scrolled Jada’s mind like it was Judgment Day. His bare caramel-candied chest looked like he’d hired a professional sculptor. Silky-smooth hairs separated and defined his eight-pack.

“Hi, baby.” Wellington kissed Jada’s coffee-colored lips. A glossy golden-brown imprint remained. “Why didn’t you call first?”

Jada slid her sunglasses to the tip of her nose. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Who was this woman? Where was this woman? And why in the hell was she in Wellington’s bedroom? She politely said. “I didn’t know I needed to call first.”

“It’s not that you need to. It’s just considerate. You know, like I do.”

In one swoop, Jada braced her Ray Bans on top of her head and released her ponytail. “Let’s skip the preliminaries. Who’s your houseguest?” She was cool. But she really felt like acting a damn fool.

“Oh, that’s Melanie, from D.C. She had a break from the studio, so Mom invited her to visit and insisted she stay with me. You know how my mother likes showing me off to her friends. Remember, I told you Mom and Dad are in D.C. They’ll be back Friday.” Wellington flexed the right side of his chest and smiled. “Just in time to host the Jones family’s thirty-fifth annual barbecue Saturday.” Jada tasted the scent of his Wintergreen Altoids. She inhaled. Wellington’s breath was always fresh.

“Yes, Wellington, you’ve told me how your parents’ annual barbecues started on your first birthday. Now it’s not only a family tradition but also a societal affair where prestigious folk gather to let down their hair. And let the good times role.” Jada spoke so fast, she could hardly hear the words coming out of her mouth. Wellington clamped his hands behind his back.

“I clearly remember you saying no matter how successful we become, we still know how to throw a great barbecue. I’ve heard the story time and time again. And you didn’t invite me last year because we’d just met and you didn’t know what I’d think of your parents’ tremendous sociopolitical involvement with numerous affluent organizations. Now, let’s get back to Melanie.” By the time Jada got to her point, she had to take a deep breath to regain her composure.

Wellington never shifted his dreamy eyes away from Jada’s. She stood in the foyer. Peeped over his shoulder. He lovingly stroked the left side of her face. Wellington’s six-feet four-inch, two hundred and twenty-pound frame obscured her view. Jada’s temperature must have been well over the today’s projected high but for all the wrong reasons.

“Look, sweetheart. I know this is the first time I’ve had a female houseguest since we’ve been together. But you have to trust me. She’s just a friend. She’s leaving next Sunday. Mom invited her to the barbecue and Melanie volunteered to help prepare the food. She’s an excellent cook. Get to know her. You’ll like her.”

Damn! Jada wondered how well Wellington knew Melanie. He hadn’t budged since he opened the door. Maybe he was stalling while she freshened up.

“Melanie and my mom have a lot in common. They’re affiliated with most of the same prestigious organizations. You know how important that is to my mom. It’s been a long-standing tradition in Melanie’s family. That’s why my mother respects her so much. You really should join at least one.”

Well, don’t we just know her whole life history? Isn’t that cute. “Wellington, we’ve had this discussion before and you know I refuse to join any of those organizations. Getting back to the subject at hand. If she’s just a friend, why was she on your balcony and not the guest balcony?”

“Look, Diamond, I don’t have to prove myself. It’s too hot and too early for ninety-nine questions. You show up unannounced and now you want to interrogate me. Baby, please come in. Have a seat in the living room. I’ll prepare breakfast for both of you.”

Wellington’s foyer was larger than most. Consuming approximately two hundred square feet, the floor was made of crystal clear marble. His favorite color black was swirled in an abstract pattern. Jada had never seen this type of marble anyplace. London. Paris. Italy. China. Two black pillars––ringed with twenty-four-karat gold accents around the top and bottom—stood twenty-four feet high, twelve feet apart. The custom-designed silk African drapes, spiraled each pillar from ceiling to floor.

Convinced he wouldn’t tell her the real deal, Jada entered Wellington’s spacious sunk-in living room like Inspector Clouseau. The furniture was strategically situated near the sliding glass door leading to his main patio. Step by step. Thump. Thump. Thump. The pulse in her throat kept pace. The tailored winter-white drapes were drawn to prevent glare on the seventy-inch television. Ah ha! Melanie appeared right at home. The world news was on the big screen. An X-rated film featuring Vanessa on the other. Melanie’s French pedicure blended with the off-white chaise longue. Jada’s heart and feet sank into the tan carpet’s thickness. She noticed how Melanie’s bright teeth shined through the cherry-red lip gloss. So this was what high-society women did on vacation.

“Oh hi, I’m Melanie.” Melanie resumed watching TV. “Wellington has told me so much about you.”

Before today, he’d never mentioned Melanie. Jada had the inside scoop on D.C. women. They didn’t have a problem sharing a man. In California, if women shared, it was strictly for the moment. Do not get attached. For the moment, Jada ignored the video and lay on the couch parallel to the chaise longue.

“Hi, Melanie, I’m Diamond, Wellington’s fiancée.”

Eyebrows arched. French manicure. Perfect size ten. Small waist. Bigger breasts. Smaller butt. Shoulder-length hair, brown. Teasing tan. Gorgeous. Five-nine. Five-ten. One forty. One forty-five. High cheekbones. Piercing light-brown eyes. Thick lips. Soft shoulders. Lustrous skin. Melanie was too sexy for comfort.

“So, Melanie, what brings you all the way to California, in your car?”

Melanie’s light-brown eyes were fixed on the video.

“I needed a break from the studio. I’m a photographer for Vibrations Magazine.”

Jada’s body went from horizontal to vertical in three seconds. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Wellington had gone upstairs to his bedroom. The Road Runner couldn’t have gotten to him quicker. He stood naked. She stood still. He flexed in front of his wall-length mirror. Needless to say, Ms. Melanie could prepare breakfast her damn self.

She entered his suite-size bedroom. “Hi, baby.” Her tongue traveled three hundred and sixty degrees around her lips. Jada lusted for Wellington’s six-foot-four, two hundred and twenty pounds of succulent, caramel flesh. She felt her heart beat against her thong.

“Hi, precious, you have perfect timing.” Wellington did three quick dick curls. “I was just about to shower. Join me.”

“You said you were going to prepare breakfast.”

“What’s the rush? I’ll do it later.”

Jada realized she’d just gotten out of the shower, but what’s a woman to do! White cotton cloth circled her feet. Wellington never could resist her tasty chocolate mounds with nipples that tasted like Hershey’s Kisses. It was her favorite flavored cocoa butter lite.

He did an erotic strip-tease move. Spun around. Glided close behind. “You know I love the way you smell, baby, but I can never figure out exactly what you’re wearing.” The wetness of his tongue invoked a trail of coolness up her spine. His smooth masculine hands caressed her voluptuous thirty-six Ds. The view in the mirror turned Jada on. The flow she suppressed earlier welled up inside her pulsating walls.

Gently, he turned her around and palmed her firm ass. Wellington’s winter-fresh tongue invaded Jada’s mouth. She greeted it like it was opening day at Disney World.

A video scene flashed across Jada’s mind. Vanessa blew softly and feathered this handsome young guy. Absent her touch, his body trembled. He climaxed. Jada had acquired most of her sexual skills from reading. But one day soon, she’d have to try that on Wellington.

They stepped into his 150-square-foot custom-made shower. It was large enough to accommodate six people standing, or one person lying on the shower bed. The walls were pallid with beautiful African American art originals strategically displayed on every accessible wall. Wellington’s fetish for fine art ran deep. Art was exhibited on easels and hung on walls in every single room, including the thirteen-person Jacuzzi room.

Wellington’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Jones, worked extrem. . .