Page 8 of Her Pisces Allure
Something breaks within me instantly, causing my dick to deflate as I stand with my hands resting in front of my middle.
“Is that how you really feel, Lay?” My question’s calm, steady delivery completely contradicts the inferno building within me.
“Yes. Why don’t you get that this is wrong?”
“Clearly, you and I have nothing to discuss, so I’m gonna head out. Be easy, Lay.”
Turning away from Fayth, I head to the garage so I can get my ass out of here before I flip out on this exhausting woman. While Roman and I are best friends, I’m not scared of his ass, nor am I sorry about eating Fayth’s pussy. If she wasn’t so damn consumed with her brother’s thoughts, I would do more, but I digress. I don’t want to leave Fayth, but my drive over here revealed more than my desire to kiss her. I’m feeling Fayth and earnestly want to be with her.
Yet, I’m not trying to deal with her resistance due to her brother’s feelings. Fuck Roman’s feelings! What about the fact that encountering her these last few times has my heart rhythm out of sync, my pulse racing, and my heart rate increasing at the sight of her?
“Aye, what’s wrong with you? You’ve been MIA for two weeks,” Roman inquires while drinking his beer.
After the encounter with Fayth, I’ve been icing Roman and her wishy-washy ass. Now that I know what Fayth’s nectar tastes like, I can’t pretend that I don’t want to fuck her into submission. Avoiding Roman has been a way for me to recenter so I can go back to acting like I’m not feeling his little sister. I’ve been working and taking my ass home to sulk because Fayth’s panic has been feeling like rejection.
“Oh. I’ve been working. I’m cool though.”
“Hm. Fayth’s ass has been dodging me too, so I was just curious. I thought maybe y’all compared notes on a nigga or some shit.” Roman laughs.
Nah, her scary ass is too worried about the wrong shit.
“Nah. I ain’t talked to Fayth.”
My chest tightens with the statement, causing me to frown from the foreign reaction. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Wait,you let the man sop you up like a biscuit and then made him feel like he robbed the candy store? Are you stupid, or are you dumb?” Tomasina questions.
“Both. Hell, let me find out we need to have your ass committed to Hooked on Phonics for love-starved fools,” Jaina interjects.
The Pisces in me has been desperate to escape the reality of pushing Quintyn away after allowing him to eat my pearl off the bone. My chest tightens from the reminder of Quintyn’s sad eyes that instantly went blank before he left me in my living room. I can’t believe I actually let him eat my pussy only to make him feel like shit afterward.
“Don’t get quiet now. What the hell is wrong with you?” Tomasina’s question cut into my silent ministrations.
“Why did I call you two again?” I’m taking a break and casually strolling around the parking lot of my clinic.
“You knew we would cuss you out, so I have no idea. You’ve wanted this man too long to throw unnecessary roadblocks in the mix,” Jaina says.
“Not to mention, it’s been too long since you last had any dick. Two weeks later, I would be telling you heffas about how that man’s dick has been rearranging my insides. Make this make sense, bestie,” Tomasina commands.
While my feelings for Quintyn haven’t waivered, and I’m feeling the pain of pushing him away, Roman’s rebuttal lies heavily within me. Silence from Quintyn has me thinking that maybe his only motive for coming over was to fuck me. That thought had my father’s horrible words from childhood entering my mind. According to my father, a fat girl like me is only good enough to be some man’s secret and mistake if she’s dumb enough to let him have sex with her.
“Fayth.” Jaina calling my name has me tuning back into the conversation while wiping the lone tear sliding down my face.
“Scott,” I whisper.
“Fuck Scott!” Tomasina shouts.
“I’m sorry. Who is Scott?” Jaina asks.
By the time Jaina and I became friends, I was no longer privy to a relationship with my father, so she had no idea who he is. Mom left my father when I was eight because of his misogynistic views and treatment of not only her but me as well. Mom said she could handle whatever bullshit he threw at her, but when his venom hit me, she was done.
“Girl. Scott is Fayth’s punk-ass father. Or, in his case, the nigga whose sperm fertilized two of Mama Miles’s eggs,” Tomasina rants.
Not ready to get into any further conversation about Scott, I make my exit from this conversation.
“I gotta get back to work. Thanks for the chastisement though. I’ll figure out a way to move past this.”
“Love you, Fayth.” The affection in Tomasina’s three words hits me like a dagger in my chest, bringing a smile to my lips.
