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Overview
Charles: A damn fool when it comes to women. His motto was every woman was B**** needing to be blessed with his presence and escorted afterwards, to the door by his pitbull Mocha. Will he meet his match?
Rhonda: A beautiful woman with more passion than she knows what to do with it. Always itching to be scratched. How will she find her relief?
Sonya: A woman that's better left alone. She don't mind going to war for a cause... her cause. Piss her off and you'll end up losing everything you got. Who can tame her wildness?
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781467037648 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 10/28/2011 |
| Pages: | 192 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.44(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Unclaimed Virtues
By Shaabu X
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Shaabu XAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4670-3764-8
Chapter One
Unclaimed Virtues
"Crash! Bump! Slam!—Swoosh!!" Demarcus came awake with a start, jumping up, to quickly look out of the living room window, he had been sitting by all night, only to glimpse the fleeing form of Sonya, before she jumped into an awaiting jeep and speed off.
"Shit!" he cursed. "I knew the minute my ass fell asleep, she'd pop her crazy ass up on the scene like 'Tales from the Crypt'!" He gathered himself together and unlocked the front door to excess the damage on his 'now used' Bentley Azure convertible.
Demarcus couldn't stop himself from flinching at the serious work Sonya put in on his car. She must have had eight invisible arms of vandalism, with a sidekick of fuck-it-up, the way his car was looking now. By the time the fire department arrived, the inside will be completely burned up and the outside around the doors and trunk will require that the whole car be repainted ... that's if it didn't blow up.
The cellular phone in his pocket tingled against his thigh, the vibration demanding his attention.
"Hello?"
"Hey Boo, how tha' ass feel now, now that I hooked your ass up? I bet next time you'll be more thoughtful before you try to scorn a golden piece of pussy. See that ass at a dealership near you!" Sonya capped in fits of laughter.
Demarcus clicked the cover of his phone closed ... looking up toward the Heavens with a silent question of 'why'? To the creator of all there is, was and will be.
He was never able to understand, nor would he, why a woman wasn't able to accept the closing of a relationship, if not original her plan. Why did all his previous relationships start out like there was a promising future, only to end up in bitterness and ugly lies, not to mention incident such as tonight.
Demarcus clicked up the cover on his phone and quickly dialed the seven digits without looking and that had become a haunting chant to his male ego.
"Hello, Cooky, yeah it happened again ... so fuckin what! Send someone to pick up the car smart-ass ... and no, I still don't need you to design me an armored car, nor do I want one of those cheap ass Hummers either chump! Go ahead and hook me up with that Ferrari Enzo I test drove the other day ... pearl blue with gold trimmings and my usual flavor of interior designing. I'll pick it up later today ... I do mean today Cooky!"
He listened to Cooky complain about the expenses he would have to go through to rush his order and install the extra flavors he craved, to the inside, before clicking off his phone in the middle of Cooky's poverty speech. The car will be ready, with no extra charges.
If he had to hire a few guards to watch this car, he will, but some how he didn't feel that that would be necessary, because he had no more intentions of fucking around with Shira's dating service and their 'psychotic bitches'.
It was becoming harder and harder for Rhonda to understand the full nature of her relationships. Neither one lasted longer than two months, with each ending with the same results .... her pussy itching for a new occupant to scratch it.
She shifted her attention back to her grocery list, the buggy she pushed, squeaked its protest for oil.
"Hey Donna, restocking the pantry, huh?" a deep muscular voice said soothingly from behind her, followed by two massive arms circling her waist, startling her.
"Don't do that shit and who in the hell are you calling Donna, negro!" Rhonda snapped, overcoming the initial shock, wiggling free of his embrace.
"That's not what you said three days ago when we left Mid-Point for a hotel to do our thang," he whined.
"I had an itch, 'you' provided the scratcher ... that's it! I don't have any babies, so nigga quit hounding me like you're some kind of love-sick-baby-daddy! You even had the days down pack, of when I gave you some of this smokin' cootchie!" Rhonda retorted.
"Why the trip tactic all of a sudden? You make it sound like I'm stalking your scantchie generic ass ... booty wasn't all that good no damn way!" the brother sneered.
"Negro please, your lips were diggem smack in a happy box of the c-r-a-c-k y-o-u-r j-a-c-k ... small dick shrimp!" Rhonda capped back.
The brother took a threatening step forward with his hands partially raised, causing Rhonda to take several retreating steps out of arm's reach.
"It was only a one night-stand man ... damn! You didn't fall in love did ya? I never gave you any indications, 'like my number', to make you think that it was anything other than that," she tried to amend.
"You sisters like to play a dangerous game with a brothers intellect, but quick to feel like a crime has been committed when that ass get put in check. Some of ya'll need a modified ass whoopin!"
Rhonda's mind was thinking fast, this nigga looked like one of those 'Serial Beaters' of women that those feminine organizations always talking about and he look like he could go once he got crunk. She should have known the brother wasn't in his right frame of mind, every time he howled like a wolf before ducking his head to eat her pussy.
"I gotta go homeboy."
"Yeah, that might be the best thing for you to do, it gets your whorish ass out of my sight before I baptize your ass like the 'Son of Sam'."
Rhonda immediately fled, leaving her shopping list and buggy with the lunatic ass brother.
After picking the car up, Demarcus couldn't believe that he had taken so long in buying one of these exotic and very beautiful cars. Once he had the hang of the shifting, he felt like an earthly deity of magnetic powers.
Honeys, so lovely made, from the 'African Booty Tribe' will put their best foot forward to sashay deeply to the approaching and passing of Kingston Raw diggedy.
He pulled into the Camp Wisdom carwash, even though his mean monster was fresh off the showroom floor, and pulled up to a vacuum pump with attached air fresheners. A Nubian sister flexed her neck muscles once or twice in his direction, then pretended disinterest, yet her body language spoke differently, especially with her ass now turned his way cuffed in those 'frosty mini me' shorts.
The Enzo's doors rose like an awakening butterfly on a misty rainbow morning, allowing the sweet tunes of Donnell Jones to escape and the Nubian sister's neck to flex again.
"Good evening my Nubian sister." Demarcus greeted her warmly, feeling the passion of being blessed. "How are you today?"
"I'm doing okay 'my Nubian brother' and there's no need to butter up your approach."
"What makes you think I'm buttering up my approach and not just respecting one of my desirable Nubian Queens?"
"Brothers rarely use that line unless they want a piece of ass or something done their way," she explained.
"My sister, what you have between your legs and behind your hips come in a free pack daily, non-negotiable ... that which we can or cannot have deserves to be respected either way so that there will be no misunderstandings, plus do I look like I need a woman to do anything for me?"
"Now, since you felt offended by me addressing you in an old respectable and ritual fashion, why don't you just tell me your name so that disrespecting of that fashion, will no longer be the topic of our discussion and we can move on?"
Rhonda's laughter sounded like sweet music as it ranged out at the point Demarcus was getting at. He had easily and quickly put her in check.
"My name is Rhonda Thompson ... and yours?"
"I'm Demarcus Brown, 'Miss Thompson!" he acknowledged with a smile.
"Just Rhonda will do, Demarcus and that's a nice car you have, it's my first time seeing one like it." Rhonda expressed, now applying her attention to the beautiful car.
"Have you seen a lot of exotic cars Rhonda, you seem to be driving a very lovely car yourself?" Demarcus asked, referring to her convertible PT Cruiser.
"In a sense, you can call me a collectible car freak, like antique collectors or what have you. I have a large collection of 'Hot Wheels', that I have been collecting every since I was a little girl and I'm thirty-two now. Do you know if they have yours in a smaller scale?"
"No I don't, however, you may examine the larger model close-up if you like or even sit behind the wheel. Go ahead, I don't mind, you'll even be the first woman to sit inside. I'm serious, I just drove it off the showroom floor," he suggested.
Rhonda was just itching to sit inside and examine the car's interior. She wasn't playing about her freakish fetish for lovely cars ... she had over six hundred Hot Wheels and usually searched for new ones every weekend at Traders Village. His offer made her feel special, especially the comment about her being the first woman to enter the car's interior.
What would it hurt if she took a closer look inside and felt a moment of its foreign comfort?
Demarcus watched as she descended into the driver seat, almost losing his composure at the gift of view. He hadn't really been focusing on the shorts that she was wearing, but as she sat down, he witness a view of the biggest pair of cunt lips 'he' had ever seen. Damn!, he thought, I know she can feel that big ass cootchie bite. He could even see the creamy outline of a vulva sticking out.
"Oh this is lovely, I can't believe you have to shift gears with these funny looking paddles or push a button to start the engine. There's all type of devices ... hell! If I had bought this car, I probably would've spent a week at the dealership studying the driver's manual before I was even able to drive it off the showroom floor.
"You'll have your hands full with concentrating on driving, leaving little room for talking or whatever." Rhonda exclaimed, running her hand over everything.
"How about we go for a ride, conversate a little and test out the whatever?" Demarcus suggested, that teasing smile lingering on his lips.
Rhonda felt a strong desire to melt all over him and not because of the car's effect either. She felt the electrical charge of her shorts fitting tightly against her pussy when she first sat down. She also had noticed the growing bulge in his pants that his bent form was failing to conceal ... the brother look like he had a serious itch scratcher housed inside them there pants. He must have got a few peaks at her shorts, oh well.
Rhonda reluctantly climbed out of the Ferrari, pulled the snag out of her shorts as she straightened up, feeling the moistness. Damn!, she silently cursed, she knew she should have worn panties.
"How about if I see you around some other time and take you up on your offer, I really don't have the time for even a short ride and a short ride isn't what I would prefer in such a lovely car. Bye Demarcus." she excused herself with a hasty departure.
Demarcus didn't know what to say to her sudden departure, but at least she had provided him a helluva peek at what he could expect during or after that long drive.
Charles glorified in his ability to wake up in the morning to find a different 'bitch' in his bed, yeah they were 'all bitches' but some had the decency to be of a different caliber. He reached over and slapped the sleepy occupant on her ass.
"Getcha bitch ass up and get tha' fuck out of here!" he barked.
"Mmm .... boy, don't talk to me like that, that's disrespectful," the woman protested sleepily.
Charles couldn't even remember the bitch's name, nor did he really care. She did have him fucked up though, that's if she was going to lay up in his bed 'cumafied' and want to talk about disrespect not after he champagne her and her bitch ass friend to death while giving his 'bitches speech'!
"Get your cum drunk ass up bitch before I let Mocha up in here on your scary ass!" Charles snapped.
Now fully awake, the female began to quickly gather her clothes, putting them on as she hopped through the bedroom door towards the front entrance. Mocha could be heard scratching on the bathroom door.
"You niggas gone quit trippin' with this bitch mentality, you don't go around calling your mamas 'biiiitch'!" she screamed, running through the door and slamming it just as Charles let a roaring gold colored Pitbull out of the bathroom.
"Stupid bitch, 'yo mama'!" Charles snapped, still nude from last night frolic.
"Dumb ass bitch ..., just take the money and eat tha' dick, that's all you gotta do!"
The phone rung, interrupting his thoughts and reminding him of his physical appearance.
"Mocha, get away from the damn door, you can't have tha' bitch, maybe the next one I introduce you to run out!" Mocha looked momentarily disappointed that the excitement was over so soon, before slowly turning away from the door, occasionally looking back as if the woman will reappear.
"Yo, state your bizwax quick!" Charles shouted into the phone.
"What's up Kingfolk, just hittin' you up to see what's cooking?" Demarcus stated from the other end.
"Aah man, I just ran another bitch from the 'Black Playboy Mansion', huh."
"Man, one of these days, you are going to get a hold of one of those psychotic ass women like I have repeatedly ran into and your ass is going to be in trouble."
"You just got that pussy Kingfolk, that's why these bitches do you that way. I'm a realist from the rootie to the tootie." Charles capped.
"Yo daddy got pussy punk!" Demarcus barked.
"And that's how tha' realist got here, through my damn daddy's pussy ass nuts."
"Listen chump, what's up for tonight? I just bought that Ferrari Enzo to out do your Benzo and I have already met the woman of my dreams ... as a matter of fact, the leather on the driver side still smell like excited pussy." Demarcus high sided.
"It's poot and leather, not pussy chump!" Charles roared with laughter.
"Yeah, yeah ... whatever! Let's hit up Twisted Passion tonight and see what all the talk is about?" Demarcus stated, getting back to the reason he called.
"I'm cool with that ... it'll give me an excuse to wear my new coat. Don't worry about picking me up in that new shit, because I ain't no car freak and I'll be damned if you end up telling your homies to sniff where I sat. I'll meet you there around ten." Charles replied, still capping.
"Alright Kingfolk and try not to bring that madness with you, 'Real Nubian Sisters' don't appreciate the bitch and ho approach, ya dig?" Demarcus advised him.
"The madness is what consume me and bring out the best, besides ... I'll love and die by the same proverb." Charles smirked. "Word syrup!"
Brenda couldn't understand why Demarcus hadn't returned her calls or was reluctant to meet her here at the restaurant, but if they were going to be together for the rest of their lives, he needed to get his shit straight.
Demarcus walked through the door and was immediately escorted to her table by the head waiter. An isolated expression covered his normally cheerful face.
"Hey baby." Brenda stated, standing up to hug him and waiting to be reseated in a gentlemanly manner, however, Demarcus neither returned her hug or applied his charms, instead he sat down, leaving the chair to a confused waiter, who had to shift the menu up under his arms to perform the service. Brenda played off the rudeness, but mentally placed a check next to manners, for future clean ups.
"You've been extremely busy lately Marcus, I haven't seen you since Mama's funeral. You know I need you more now, than ever baby," Brenda pouted.
"That's too bad Brenda, because our relationship has been cancelled. I had assumed that you would get the picture from my continuous absences, but then I realized that a personal brush off would be even better," Demarcus sneered, handing the nosy waiter back the menu and ordering a Bacardi dry.
Brenda ordered a light salad and glass of Long Island Tea. "What happened .... what did I do to merit such nastiness after all we've been through. If you have had an affair or met someone you 'assume' you like better, I'm sure we can work this out." she tried to reason, not believing the shit she was hearing.
"You haven't figured it out yet, have you Brenda? I have often gave you more credit than, I now see, that you deserved. I no longer see any reason why we should remain together and I am deeply sorry that this has come at such a crucial moment in your life."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Unclaimed Virtues by Shaabu X Copyright © 2011 by Shaabu X. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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