Page 1 of Beautiful Harmonies

“Ooooh shit! Give it to me!”I said with a growl.

This freak was working my dick out like no other. It was going to be a long ass day, so I may as well had gotten it started off right. The American Music Awards was tonight, and I had a studio session in an hour. However, this juicy ass pussy had taken precedence over everything. There was no way I could ignore it when it was busted wide open for me.

As a celebrity, bitches constantly threw themselves at me, giving me parts of themselves that should have been reserved for someone they loved. However, when they saw money and the luxuries I could offer, love went out the window. It didn’t help that I could sing the panties right off them. Being a superstar in the music industry provided me with variety that I couldn’t afford five years ago.

The past three years had been a huge orgy that I couldn’t find my way out of. I wasn’t an ugly guy, but women didn’t pay menearly any attention when I was a struggling R&B singer, with locs that needed plenty of TLC, as they did now. My shit looked janky, like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed every day. I didn’t have the money to get the shit done, and I didn’t want to cut them.

My younger sister and my mama did their best to keep my self-esteem where it should be. However, when my mama died four years ago, that shit became increasingly hard until my big break a year after. The day my face hit the internet, looking all cleaned up and shit, it was on and popping.

My sister tried her best to keep me grounded, but she was too busy living her best life on my dime. I had to finish raising her when Mama passed away suddenly from cancer that she didn’t bother telling us about. When she got extremely sick, it had spread all over her body. That metastasization process took her out in a couple of weeks, leaving my then thirteen-year-old sister and me without a mother.

My dad wasn’t really in our lives. He and my mama divorced when I was eighteen… eight years ago. They were always arguing and listed the cause of the divorce to be irreconcilable differences. That nigga was a male chauvinist. My mama was only seventeen when they got married. She hadn’t grown into who she would be as a woman yet. So, she did whatever he said and went along with whatever he did within reason.

By the time I was a teenager, and she was in her mid-thirties, she’d had enough of that shit. She said she refused to have my sister, who was eight at the time, think she had to be a slave to a man. She had her own mind and refused to let him keep playing her like she didn’t. He and I had nearly come to blows once when he put his hands on my mama. Had he not left, one of us would have gotten arrested that night… or killed. I was ready to spend the rest of my life behind bars to protect my mama.

“Deontray, damn, nigga! Fuck me up, baby!”

I rolled my eyes as I hit her from the back. It was the same shit. Sometimes I didn’t even give my best to see if they would be truthful, and they never were. They’d talk shit like I was fucking their insides up. My dick practically went limp. I started imagining this fly cutie that I’d seen at the Billboard Awards last year. I found myself doing that quite often, but I didn’t think I was truly ready for anything serious. She seemed like the type that wasn’t for the bullshit I had been on.

Thankfully, most of my ho activities had been kept out of the public eye. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to find the type of wife I wanted to save my life. I didn’t care if she had a career, but I preferred a woman that was somewhat traditional in a sense… a woman that could be submissive as well as assertive. I supposed I wanted someone that was well-rounded. I needed her to know when to speak and when to be quiet.

That wasn’t about her being inferior but her being smart. In this industry, I couldn’t have a woman with loose lips. She would keep us in a shit storm if she was. My reputation wasn’t squeaky clean, but I didn’t have a lot of stupid shit on my record either. While I did my best to stay out of the public eye, I was pretty sure someone had knowledge of how much I got around.

The thoughts of where my personal life was headed caused me to quit fucking around with this sac chaser and get my nut. I started drilling her pussy like it had fucked me over and had lied to try to get away with it. I couldn’t stand a liar, and I was treating her pussy like it was just that. Technically, it was. It was wet as fuck like it loved me… like it wanted to be with me always, and it didn’t even know me.

No one in the industry really knew me. I hid the real me from all of them. There was only one person on this earth that had the privilege of seeing me for who I was. Mi’Junae was the only one. Being that she was my little sister, she got to see me in my most private moments. She knew me so well until she knew the shit Ididn’t even say. It made that shit even easier these days since she still lived with me.

While most times, I was on the road, I still had the audacity to take her with me almost everywhere I went. I needed someone, who genuinely loved me, close at all times. No one in this fucked up business could be trusted. They were only out for themselves, and fuckanybodythey felt threatened their position on the charts or within the record label. Being independent was looking more and more appealing these days.

Once I finally nutted, I pulled out of her and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower. Within seconds, she’d met me inside. I glanced at her and said, “It was nice, baby girl. Leave your number, and maybe we’ll hook up again.”

She smiled. “Okay, Deon. I hope you call me.”

I bit my bottom lip and gave her a head nod then pulled my locs up in a bun. She turned to walk to the room to get her things, I assumed. When I made my way back into the room to make sure, I found her in the bed. I frowned slightly. “Hey, you gotta go. I have to get ready for a quick session, then I have somewhere to be after that.”

I couldn’t even remember her name. That was proof that this shit had gotten out of hand. I never forgot names that quickly. She slightly poked her lip out as she got out of the bed. “Okay. I just thought I would leave when you did. I hadn’t gotten any sleep.”

“You can sleep when you get to your place. Now come on. You gon’ make me late.”

She quickly pulled her miniskirt and her shirt on then slipped her undergarments in her handbag. I led her to the door and when I turned to her, she kissed my lips. “Thank you for a great time.”

“Mm hmm,” I said as I smacked her ass.

She walked out, and I closed the door behind her. My security team was in an adjoining room, so I was sure they would make sure she got where she was supposed to be as soon as they heard my door close. They were pretty good at keeping things discreet. They’d been with me for the past three years and knew how I operated. Sex was my vice.

I didn’t spend a lot of money. After buying a house and two cars, my expenditures were minimal. My mama had taught me how to manage my money, even though we didn’t have much. When my father left, he took his finances with him. Muthafucka barely sent three hundred a month our way, and he was an electrical engineer. It was hard as hell to go from living comfortably to barely making it, but my mama handled it with grace.

I had to drop out of college to help out as much as possible. I worked at a fast-food place called SuperCrisp during the day and worked gigs at clubs and what not at night. If I didn’t have a gig, I was at the studio. I had a friend who was trying to make a name for himself that would allow me to dip in on his sessions. When he heard how good I was, he started splitting the sessions in half.

Although we didn’t talk often, we were still cool to this day, and I would never forget what he did for me. I acknowledged him whenever I had the opportunity. He’d made it pretty big himself in his rap career. He’d even been in a couple of movies. I was beyond proud of him and grateful that God put him in my life to help me get to where I was.

After I got out of the shower, I hurriedly got dressed and made my way to the studio. Los Angeles really wasn’t my type of vibe. Everybody was in everybody’s business. You couldn’t go to the damn bathroom without security, because the paparazzi were like vultures out here. I could barely fucking breathe without them getting a picture or video footage of the shit.

My team had to practically throw me in the car to get away from those muthafuckas. With the way my mouth was set up, I would be deemed an arrogant jackass on these streets. Well, Iwassomewhat arrogant, but that shit wasn’t without reason. My vocals were A-1. I’d been working on my instrument a long time. It helped that I had perfect pitch. No one could ever say they heard Deontray singing out of key.

My internal instrument was a gift that I learned to take care of and perfect. As far back as I could remember, I had been able to sing. My mama had me in the church choir and the school choir, not to mention talent shows from here to New York. It was something she and my dad used to argue about quite often. He didn’t like how much money she was spending on flights and shit, nurturing my budding career.

She saw how serious I was about it and refused to sit idle, letting me just be another kid with talent and unfulfilled potential. She was determined for the world to know just how gifted her baby was. Living in Detroit, one would have thought that it would have been a little easier to break into the music industry. That wasn’t the case for me.

---