Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,21

anxious and knowing that what he said was true.

“Talk, talk, talk…” I taunted.

“Keep talking, princess. You’re making me hard, because I can see how you respond to my punishments. How you cum when I say so. How responsive your body is. Fuck,” he hissed. “I’ve got to sod off to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Jacquez. Goodbye,” I told him.

“It’s not goodbye, it’s goodnight.”

Then the line went dead.

Now, hold up.

Hold the fuck up.

There were some things that I could tolerate and then there were some that I could—no…would not.

Chapter Eight

Jacquez Costa

If I were bloody honest, the woman had been on my mind all day. I kept seeing her open mouth as she came, those sexy lips as they wrapped around my fingers and then my cock. The bounce of her breasts when I slapped them or those nipples when they puckered after I bit each one. Her swollen pussy because I wore her out those three days and the curve of her delectable ass as I watched the blood rush to where I spanked it.

Yeah, no work was done. No sleep came and neither did rest. She was all consuming, and then she was acting like it was nothing. It was something, even if…well. There were no ifs. She would be the mother of my child, and that was it. That didn’t stop me from wanting to talk to her. Get to know her. What she liked and disliked. Since we would co-habitate, I had to get to know the real Sheryl. The problem was, she was like a scared jackrabbit. Always ready to run on the ready. I’d had to chase her arse down from London to the wedding after she dropped the beans and fled. Now, after all three days of us bonding, she was still pulling away. Therefore, the best way I knew how to keep her on the hook was by demanding that it be so. For the most part, she responded to that well. It was only after I hung up the phone that I thought differently.

Late the next morning, after my meeting, I called, and she did not answer the phone. I called four times until I was ready for bed, and then left a message.

“I told you to answer the phone,” I said then I hung up.

The problem with this setup was that she was in Philadelphia, and I was in London. Bloody London. All fucking week, I called her three times a day and she did not answer. And every single day, I grew madder and madder. Then I grew calm. Friday, I hopped on my jet, with a calm that I had to tap in to. Noah was not back from his honeymoon, so I could not pester him, therefore, I did what he did. Went to the States to confront her arse.

It didn’t take long to find out just how big and powerful Sheryl South was. All one had to do was Google search her and boom: There were her professional photos, accomplishments, accolades, videos of her speaking and other ventures she had invested in.

Sheryl South was thee woman, and that made me even more honored to be a partner with her. I did not take her and who she was for granted, but I did wonder if the two of us would be able to do this. For her to be where she was, she had to be tough as nails. I did not shy away from tough women, but sometimes they didn’t know when to submit. We both couldn’t have on a pair of pants. And I was never for sucking a man’s balls. That just was not for me and especially if those balls were on a woman. Usually strong, independent types have a hard time yielding. They think it makes them weak, when it was the opposite in my book. A woman yielding to a man is the ultimate surrender. Shit, quiet as it’s kept, it’s the humblest thing, because it actually means a man has yielded his life to the woman. It’s no longer a decision of what will I eat for dinner, but what will we eat. It’s not about where I will live, but where will we live. It’s all about the we, because there is someone that has yielded to me.

This is the shit that I was going to make Sheryl understand—after I tanned her arse.

Friday, I was off, so by the time I got to Philadelphia, it was eleven in the