Outcast (3 page)

“Shit,” she moaned.

“You sure you want this?”

“Hell yeah, boy.”

Tirrell jumped up to make sure the dead bolt on the door was secured and then returned to the sofa. Sliding the panties down over Tasha's buttocks and thighs, he nestled his nose in her neatly trimmed bush and kissed her hidden mound.

Tasha gasped, letting him know he was headed in the right direction. Tirrell nimbly prodded her outer walls with his index finger, gently pulled her lips open, and playfully darted his tongue in and out.

He ravenously licked the fleshy part of her inner thighs, marking his territory. Reeling with delight, she pulled his head back up to her and they shared more kisses. He pulled up and untied the laces of his boots, kicked them off, and threw them across the living room floor, disrobed quickly, and returned to Tasha's waiting arms.

“It's been too long.” She sighed.

Tirrell kissed his way down her body. “Damn, girl. You taste so good.” He pushed her legs apart. She panted and pulled her fingers through her hair as he greedily fed his desires. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as he brought her to orgasm more than once, her quivering body writhing as her thighs clasped tightly to the sides of his head. He pulled away and reached for the condom he had in the back pocket of his jeans. Ripping open the packet, he deftly rolled it on and braced himself against the back of the sofa as he slowly and purposely entered her warm, wet hole.

“Damn,” he cried, electricity shooting through his haunches. With each stroke, his breathing became more erratic. Tasha dug her fingernails into his butt cheeks and spurred him on. Changing positions, he took her around the waist and flipped over on his back, pulling her on top. He delighted in her piercing shrieks with each deep, piston-like thrust. She clamped down when his pace quickened. His distorted sex face and syncopated groans preceded a toe-curling climax.

His smooth chest rose and fell like a great mountain as he caught his breath and the aftershocks of orgasm lingered. Tasha leaned down to kiss him—his penis still in place. Her hair fell around her face and she pushed it back behind her ears.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes, looked at her with solemn intensity, and pulled her back into a kiss. “I need to take a shower.” He swatted her lightly on the rear and nudged her off. He stood up, pulled the condom off, and sauntered into the kitchen for a paper towel. He thought about Darnell's remark and chuckled as he tossed it in the trash anyway.

“You want some company?”

Tirrell looked at her. “In the shower? No, I'm good.”

He gathered his clothes and duffel bag and headed to the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. Tossing his things near the foot of her bed he proceeded into the bathroom and turned on the water. He pulled the bandage off his arm and examined the wound before stepping into the tub. The gush of the pulsating jets washed what was left of his anxiety down the drain.

After his shower, he toweled off and went to find Tasha in Darnell's bathroom. He pulled his beer from the duffel bag; it wasn't as cold anymore but he popped it open and sucked it down. Lighting a cigarette, he sat down on Tasha's bed with the damp towel wrapped around his waist. He stared at the telephone, contemplating whether to call his grandmother. He opted to wait.

Tasha walked in as he stretched out across the bed. He looked up at her, smiled, and held his hand out, beckoning her. As she drew closer, he snatched her towel off and opened his to reveal that he was ready for more.

“All aboard.”

“Yes, sir.” Tasha saluted and climbed on top of him.

She rolled her moist clitoris slowly over his penis. They both moaned with anticipation. When she prepared to mount him, he stopped her.

“Baby, what's wrong?”

“No glove, no love, right?”

She moved. He got up and extracted another condom from his bag, then turned back to the bed.

“Why you lookin' at me like that? You wanna play safe, right?”

“Yes.”

“A'ight, then.” He opened the package with his teeth, noting her forlorn expression. “What, Tasha?”

“Nothing.”

“Girl, I can't read your mind. You're gonna have to talk to me. What's goin' on?”

Tasha pulled the sheet up. Tirrell sat down beside her and caressed her cheek. “I know you are not pou-tin'. Do you wanna have sex without protection? If you do, it's okay by me. I'll pull out before . . . you know . . . Cross my heart.”

Tasha kicked at him and he playfully fell on the floor, laughing.

“I crossed my heart.” He stood up, bringing attention to his deflated member. “Now see what you did? Li'l T is goin' to sleep.”

Tasha rested on her knees and took Tirrell's hand. “I know how to wake Li'l T back up.”

“Nope, the candy store's closed.”

“C'mon, baby. I'm sorry.”

“I said no.”

“Please.”

“No, girl. Stop, now.” He smacked her hand away.

“Let's go get somethin' to eat. I'm starvin'.” Tirrell slipped into a pair of clean boxers and pulled back into his jeans. “C'mon, now. Get a move on.”

Tasha jumped off the bed and grabbed a pair of shorts and a pink cotton chemise from her bureau drawer.

“What? No bra. No panties?”

“Easy access for later.” She laughed.

“Will a dinner jacket be required or not, madam?”

“What do you think?”

The two laughed together as they finished dressing and headed out the door. They found a KFC and ordered food to take back to the apartment. It was late but despite her new body consciousness she ate with him. She would pay for her indulgence at the gym later. For now she was simply going to enjoy the pleasure of her man.

 

 

“Shit, girl. That gym must be doin' you a world of good. You wore me out.”

“Is that why you're breathin' so hard?”

“Hell, I'm tired. I've been up since five this mornin', took the Greyhound, and the MARTA to get over here and see you.”

“I was just tryin' to show you my appreciation.”

“Believe me, I appreciate it.” Tirrell reached over to the nightstand and pulled a cigarette from the open pack.

“That's why your ass is breathin' so hard, right there.”

He lay back and rested on the headboard, taking a drag. “What are you, the surgeon general?”

“I'll let that slide because you're so damn cute.”

“Cute is for babies and puppies, girl. You heard what Darnell said, my ass is fine.”

“Since when do you care what Darnell says?”

“When
she's
right,
she's
right.”

Tasha laughed, snuggled up close, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Have you seen Miss Betty yet?”

“No. I told you I came straight here.”

“She's gonna be so happy to see you. She was just talkin' about you Sunday.”

“How do you know that?”

“I went to church with her and she invited me over to your brother's house for dinner after.”

Tirrell blew smoke from his nostrils like an enraged bull, pushed her away, and sat up. “You've been hangin' around with my family?”

“Yeah, so. What's wrong with that?”

“Nothin'.” He sighed heavily.

“Then why you actin' funky all of a sudden?”

“Nothin's wrong, a'ight. I told you, I'm just tired. I haven't had a lot of sleep the past few days.”

Tasha took the cigarette from Tirrell's hand and put it out.

“What are you doin'?”

“If you're tired you need to sleep.” She positioned herself behind him and massaged his shoulders.

He closed his eyes. “Mmmmm, that feels good.”

“I thought we worked out all of your tension. I guess you still have a lot more.”

“You have no idea.”

After a satisfying rubdown, Tirrell lay back on the bed.

Tasha noted the far-off look in his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?”

“I don't know. Seems like you got pissed when I brought up your grandmother.”

“No. Don't worry about it. I just need some sleep, that's all.”

Tirrell rested his head on her breasts and wrapped his arms around her waist. She lovingly caressed his head until he drifted off.

 

 

Tasha eased out of bed early the next morning as Tirrell snored. She grabbed her cell phone and slipped into the bathroom.

“Hey, it's Tasha,” she said in a hushed, husky whisper. “Listen, I'm not gonna be able to do your hair today. Can I reschedule you for early tomorrow morning? No . . . I'm fine, just crampin' like crazy. You know how it is, that time of the month. Hey, I'll even knock twenty dollars off. Great, I'll see you in the morning. Is seven o'clock all right?”

Tasha followed that phone call with three others. Turning off the phone, she stepped back into the bedroom to check on Tirrell. Satisfied that he was still asleep, she slipped into her robe, and pulled the bedroom door closed. She could see by his bed that Darnell had not come home. He wouldn't have been able to get in anyway with the dead bolt on. She proceeded into the kitchen to make breakfast. She retrieved eggs, cheese, milk, and bacon from the refrigerator after starting a pot of coffee. Tirrell emerged from the bedroom just as the toast popped up from the toaster.

“Wow, look at you, all domestic and shit.”

“Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

Tirrell rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat down at the dining room table. “Why you let me sleep so long?”

“'Cause you looked like you needed it.”

“Don't you have to work today or somethin'?”

“I'm doin' all my clients tomorrow. Want some coffee?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Tasha poured them both a cup and served him a plate full of bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs with cheese. Tirrell practically inhaled the food right before her eyes.

“So, why did you really take off today?”

“I wanted to spend some time with you. Is that all right?”

“I'm goin' to see Noonie.”

“Are you goin' down to the hotel?”

Tirrell put his fork down and leaned back. “Oh yeah, it is Friday, ain't it?”

“If you want to wait until she gets off work we could do somethin' together.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know. We could find somethin' to get into.” Tirrell took Tasha's hand and pulled her over to his lap. “You wanna go back to bed?”

“I was thinkin' we could do somethin' that would require puttin' some clothes on. How about goin' down to Atlantic Station? Or we could go to a movie.”

“I don't feel like sittin' in a theater for two hours. But we can go down to Atlantic Station if you want. And maybe we could stop by the Marriott on the way? I don't wanna wait. I wanna surprise Noonie.”

“Okay. Sure.”

Tasha finished her coffee and got up to do the dishes. After polishing off a second helping, Tirrell dropped his empty plate into the sink full of suds, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and kissed her neck.

“That was good, baby.”

“I'm glad you liked it.”

“You know what else I like.” He squeezed her butt cheeks and proceeded into the bedroom to get dressed.

Tasha followed once she was done cleaning the kitchen.

While he waited for her, he booted up her computer to check his e-mail. He waded through the obligatory spam messages, and then responded to a few correspondences from a couple of his buddies from Fort Bragg, asking how he was and filling him in on what was happening in the short time since he'd gone, including their impending deployments. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his hand over his face. “Damn.”

 

 

Once they arrived at the downtown hotel, they pulled into the underground parking garage and walked into the service entrance. The basement bustled with energy. Housekeepers were running around with arms full of linen, and carts of toiletries, or pushing large tubs of dirty laundry toward big industrial washing machines. Tirrell caught the eye of a young girl who nearly tripped over her own feet looking at him.

“Can you tell me where I can find Betty Ellis?”

The lusty-eyed female smiled and pointed. “She down the hall. Take a left.”

Tirrell nodded. “Thanks.”

“‘She down the hall,'” Tasha mocked.

“Jealous?” Tirrell teased.

“Hardly.”

They continued up the hall and found his grandmother in her small office, seated at her desk, massaging her feet.

Betty Ellis was a stout, down-to-earth woman with a pleasingly plump brown face and eyes that sparkled when she laughed. She was kind and fiercely loyal, but if crossed, she wasn't one to hold her tongue. She'd been working as a housekeeper for twenty-nine years, and served as head of housekeeping for the last eight. Everybody respected her, and if they didn't they kept it to themselves. In her position, she was more like a mother to the thirty-member morning crew, juggling work schedules, refereeing petty disagreements, and keeping a keen eye on inventory.

When she spotted Tirrell at the door she slipped back into her shoes and stood up to greet him. “Oh, my Lord. Will you look a'here.” She threw her arms open and pulled him into her.

His eyes misted in the comfort of her embrace.