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Authors: Kimberly Kaye Terry

PullMyHair

BOOK: PullMyHair
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An Ellora’s Cave Romantica
Publication

www.ellorascave.com

 

 

Pull My Hair

 

ISBN # 1-4199-0694-1

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Pull My Hair Copyright© 2006 Kimberly Kaye Terry

Edited by Lesia Ward.

Cover art by Willo.

 

Electronic book Publication: September 2006

 

 

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by
any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave
Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

 

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The
characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

 

Content Advisory:

 

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for
mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three
independent reviewers.

 

Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™
reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

 

S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to
the imagination.

 

E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the
imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition,
some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find
objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced
seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry;
it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”,
“cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

 

X-
treme
titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot
premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with
the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of
heart.

Pull My Hair
Kimberly Kaye Terry

Dedication

 

This is dedicated to my beautiful soul sister, Tina. Love
you, girl.

 

 

 

Trademark Acknowledgement

 

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark
owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

BlackBerry: Research In Motion Limited

Bose: Bose Corporation

Little Debbie: McKee Foods Corporation

Louis Vuitton Mallatier: LVMH

Mercedes: DaimlerChrystler AG Corporation

Prada: Prefel S.A. Corporation

Yoplait Marques Internationales Corporation (France)

 

Chapter One

 

“You don’t pull it anymore, so why the hell did I need all
that hair for anyway?” Liza yelled at the top of her lungs. Buck-naked she
knelt on the bed beside her husband’s lounging form.

After she yelled her response, she promptly broke into hysterical
tears and plopped back down on the bed.

“Liza, what in the world are you talking about? Baby, you’re
not making any sense! And what does hair pulling have to do with us having
sex?” He sat up swiftly and tried to pull her back down onto his chest.

“If you were still
pulling
it, you’d
know
what
I was talking about!” she snatched her body away, refusing to allow him to pull
her back in. “Oh just forget it, Greg! It’s a lost cause anyway.”

Liza sprang from the bed and her newly bobbed, freshly
relaxed hair whipped around her face as she grabbed the black silk kimono
sprawled on the foot of the bed. With precise, angry motion, she shoved her
arms through the sleeves. After she tied the sash, she nearly ran to the
bedroom door with her need to escape.

As she was opening the door to leave, her husband strode up
behind her and slammed it shut. He turned her around to face him.

All six-foot-plus of gloriously naked, ticked off male
glared down at her. She read it all in his deep, green eyes, there was anger, irritation,
concern, and…horniness. Her glance ran over his angry face, noting the red
flush of anger that ran alongside his squared jaw. She turned away from him and
reopened the door. She refused to be drawn back in. And that‘s all it would
take. All she’d have to do is take one look into his eyes and she was sprung.

Just like an addict.

“Don’t run away from me!” His breathing was harsh as he made
the demand.

He slammed the door shut. Again. This time he boxed her in,
giving her no chance to escape him.

“Come on, baby. If you’re happy about your hair then so am
I. Let’s just make love okay? It’s been a few days, between working later hours
on this case and your period…big daddy needs some lovin’.” He laughed low and
bent his dark head to nuzzle the side of her neck as he stood behind her.

Big daddy was right
.

She could feel his long, thick penis nudge her butt as he
pulled her close against his chest. She tried her
damnedest
to stay
rigid against his hard, tightly muscled body. She
refused
to acknowledge
to herself how good his rock-hard thighs felt resting against the back of her
thighs or how good it felt to feel his cock push against her, looking to gain
entry.

Hmmm.
She was so wet, she was afraid she’d start dripping
all over her new, silk oriental rug.

“You don’t like my hair,” she murmured softly.

No way was she going to let him off the hook. She didn’t
give a damn how good he felt rubbing against her. She’d cut her hair and she’d
had to bring it to his attention.

She clenched her legs together to ward off any more
treacherous, wayward cream making its way down her thighs.

“I
do
like your hair, baby. Just come back to bed,”
he whispered. He tucked a stand of her bobbed, bone-straight, relaxed hair
behind her ear and trailed a line of kisses down her neck.

The real issue was not her hair. If he didn’t know that,
then they were in more trouble than she thought. It was as though he didn’t
notice anything about her anymore. As though he no longer
saw
her.

She moved her head to the side to give him better access.

“I love everything about you.” His deep, hoarse voice sent
shivers running down her spine. “From the top of your newly cut hair to the
bottom of your pretty brown feet.
And
your stinky little toes.”

The real issue was that they had lost…touch, with each
other, not the fact that she’d cut her hair. The fact that he’d not noticed her
new haircut was just the icing on the big old fat chocolate cake.

“We don’t even have to go to the bed if you don’t want,” he
continued his low-talking, sensual barrage. He lifted her arms out in front of
her and placed them on the door.

After seven years of marriage, she felt disconnected from
her husband
.

His kisses trailed down her spine and she cried out in
automatic response when he delivered a light nip to one of her butt cheeks. He
laughed when she yelped and grabbed the flesh between his lips and suckled the
small injury.

Damn. No matter what, he still knew what she liked when they
made love.

His other hand trailed to the front of her body and he sank
two big fingers deep inside her wet channel and she cried out from the
exquisite feeling. With an expertise born from intimate knowledge of what
turned her on, he stroked her deeply. He slowly lapped a leisurely tongue over
her butt as his fingers pumped in rhythm inside her vagina.

He added his thumb to the mix and began to torture her clit.
The rough pad of his thumb circled her tightly drawn nubbin. She felt like
screaming the pleasure was so intense.

“Do you like that, baby? Does that feel good? Do you want to
come, Li?” he asked in that dark voice that made her squirm even more around
his talented fingers.

“Yessss,” she whimpered on a long hiss. “Please, baby…let me
come.” Liza heard the desperation in her own voice but didn’t give a damn. She
was so close, her orgasm was just hovering right there…out of reach.

“What do you have to say in order to come? What do I like to
hear?”

She knew what he wanted to hear, what he wanted her to say
in order to bring her to release. “Please, big daddy, I want to come. Let me
come. I need it so badly,” she whispered, head hung low, strung out from the
intensity of the feelings he’d created in her.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said and laughed low in his
throat the same time that he pinched her clit, not hard enough to hurt but hard
enough that she felt the small sting.

She felt the orgasm as it rippled through her body right
before she damn near exploded as she came. She cried out as she bucked against
his fingers and had to hold the doorframe or she’d have fallen down straight on
her face. Her heart beat so strongly from the intensity of her climax that she
felt tears sting her eyes.

When he flipped her around and her back slammed against the
door, she widened her stance in automatic response. It had been over a week
since they’d made love and she was ready for anything he had in store for her.

Anything.

He teased her by brushing his hand back and forth over the
springy curls covering her mound. He leaned down and took a deep breath. “Ummm.
Your kitty always smells so good, baby,” his breath was becoming more ragged
the more turned on he became.

Liza loved when he called her vagina, her kitty. The lord
only knew the man knew how to make it purr.

With bated breath, she waited to feel the heated stroke of
his talented tongue on her crease. She allowed her eyes to drift closed in
anticipation.

The sudden and very jarring ring of his cell phone caused
Liza to jerk her eyes open and whip her head around to locate the offending
sound. She looked down at her husband as he crouched down in front of her, face
inches away from her aching clit…and wanted to
scream
when she saw the
resigned look that crossed his handsome face.


Oh, hell no
! Greg, they’ll call back. No way are you
going to do this to me!” she wailed in disbelief. She felt like howling when he
raised himself and quickly kissed her, frustration stamped on his face.

“Baby, I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for me either, look at my
damn cock!” he said and she
refused
to look down for fear she’d jump on
it and do it and him some serious damage.

“You know, I’m waiting to hear from my client. I go to trial
soon and I have to get the case ready. This will only take a minute, I promise.
That’s Renita; she wouldn’t call unless it was important. We’ll pick this up
where we left off…”

His voice trailed off as he swiftly crossed their large
bedroom to reach the phone before Renita could hang up. Renita was his
paralegal assistant and he’d assigned a
special
ring tone when she
called so he’d know it was her.

Greg gazed at her intently as he picked up the phone and
mouthed an apology. He held out a consoling hand when she flipped him off.

Whatever.

His loss.

With a dejected sigh, she left the bedroom and walked down
the long, curved mahogany stairwell and made her way through their beautifully
decorated home.

Her bare toes sunk into the deep pile of the Persian rugs
that covered her hardwood floors as she padded barefoot through the house,
making her way to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of herbal tea was just what she
needed. Her best friend Karina swore by the stuff.

As she walked through her house, her eyes slowly glanced
around, admiring her home for what it was. A sign that she’d made it. She’d
made it out of that life she’d grown up in, a life of food stamps and
government housing.

And free cheese given out once a month at the local Catholic
Church.

And a mother who couldn’t wait until she was eighteen and
“grown” before she left town with no forwarding address, but had no problem
calling once or twice a year to hit her up for money.

She’d grown up in the north side of Stanton, the part of
town where welfare and public assistance was a way of life for many of its
inhabitants. A place she
refused
to revisit.

No matter what.

She reached the kitchen, searched for the small red kettle,
and filled it with water from her porcelain sink before placing it on the stove
to boil.

Liza loved her porcelain sink.

She leaned against the counter and smiled as she thought
back to the day when she and Greg had gone shopping for the sink. It was the
day before Thanksgiving and his parents were coming over to celebrate
Thanksgiving Day with them.

She’d wanted the dinner to be perfect for her new in-laws.
She admitted to herself that she was nervous. Not only was she preparing dinner
for her in-laws, but she still felt as though she had to prove something to
them; that their son had married the right woman.

There was a part of her that wondered at their easy
acceptance of her, and not just because she was black. They’d not even
questioned it when her only family to show up for their small wedding was a few
friends from work, along with her best friend Karina and Karina’s mother. At
least not verbally.

But as nice as the Colburn’s were, Liza had never made a
connection with them. Greg’s parents were nice enough, but she’d always felt as
though she fell short in his mother’s eyes. Whenever they would spend time with
his parents, she often felt his mother’s assessing scrutiny when she thought
Liza wasn’t aware of her close regard.

She remembered how badly she wanted everything to be
just
right
for his parent’s visit on that Thanksgiving holiday. Greg had
assured
her that he knew what he was doing and could install the new sink. She wasn’t
sure who she was more surprised, herself or her new husband, when the sink had
sprung a leak. So close to Thanksgiving and there were no plumbers available on
such short notice. Liza felt like screaming.

* * * * *

“Greg, what are we going to do? Your parents are coming over
for dinner tomorrow and I don’t have a sink! Oh lord, they’re going to think
I’m a raving loon!” Liza cried and fell on the floor in a dejected heap,
covering her face in her hands.

“Baby, they are
not
going to think you’re a loon,
raving or not!” Greg plopped down next to her on the floor and lifted her into
place on his lap, laughing as he rubbed his big hands over her hair.

“It’s not funny,” she cried and punched him before laying
her head on his chest.

“Sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you. It’s going to be all
right. We’ll find a plumber, I promise you,” he told her and lifted her chin. “And
if we don’t, it’s not that big of a deal. My parents will love you no matter
what, turkey or no turkey. Okay?” He looked deep in her eyes with a smile on
his handsome face and she melted.

Her eyes roamed over his face from his deep-set green eyes
and darkly fringed eyelashes, down his proud aquiline nose, to the small cleft
in his stubble-covered chin. All he ever had to do was look at her and smile
and she was like hot butter on plastic wrap in his hands.

“And how about instead of worrying about the sink, we
christen it instead?” he asked, as he nibbled the side of her neck.

“What do you mean
christen
it? How do you christen a
sink?” She laughed through her tears. He’d taken her mind off the busted sink
for a minute.

“Well…” The wicked gleam in his green eyes alone had her
instantly wet and wanting.

Damn.

How did he do this to her? They’d been married for two weeks
and she couldn’t get enough of the man. Thank God he was as sprung on her as
she was on him or she’d be in trouble.

It wasn’t just how fine he was that did it for her. Although
that never hurt. How could six-foot-plus of overwhelming male
not
do it
for a woman? He wasn’t over muscled like the
hulk
, but the man was
packed with chiseled, defined muscles that turned her to hot butter whenever he
glanced her way with that
look
.

She looked down at his arms wrapped loosely around her. She
loved the contrast in their skin colors. Although Greg wasn’t particularly
pale, because of the deep brown color of her skin, the contrast in their
complexion was heightened even more.

And sexy as hell to her.

He lifted her easily into his arms and placed her on the
counter. That was the other thing she loved about him. How easily he picked her
up and carried her around. As though she were his personal baby doll.

BOOK: PullMyHair
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