"Is There A Way To Love Me?"
Is There A Way To Love Me?
Written by: Love Ladii Lee
Is there a way? sank deep into my mind as he placed his warm 7” penis deep into me. “God, how I love his dark skin on top of my peanut butter caramel complexion.” Everything about this man made my pussy wetter and wetter as his penis touched the entrance of my precious vagina, stretching me a whole 2 inches wide; I moaned deeply as if it was six. To imagine myself with someone else would be ridiculous. He had to be the One for me. His strokes ran deeper than oceans, his kiss softer than clouds in the sky, his touch made me quiver, as he sunk deeper and deeper into what I called my hidden jewel. He had the body of a hero. Six pack and all that, taller than the newest tower, and ran game faster than Terence Crawford could swing. He did things to me my body couldn’t resist, as I laid back and let him enter the world to my joy. He slipped deep inside me like the titanic when it hit the iceberg. “You like this?” He whispered in my ear while stroking my pussy gently. “No daddy, I love this.” I spoke while moaning as he slowly crept more and more dick inside me.
I rubbed his wavy brush cut as he kissed me from behind my ear down my neck, sucking my diamond pierced nipples before taking the trail down to my naval. He then tongued his way down to my vagina, licking and sucking my pussy lips slowly before slamming his tongue inside me. He used that tongue like a weapon and fucked me well with it. My legs vibrated as if I was sitting on a dryer, but I was wetter than any white T shirt in a contest. I splashed his face with cum as he was moaning to the rhythm of my body. “Do you want another one?” He looked at me shake my head yes while diving his face back into my pussy.
He then sucked my clitoris while placing two fingers inside me. I twirled my hips making his fingers go deeper and deeper. My body danced to the tunes of fortunate as Maxwell helped me erupt once more. Immediately he flipped me over and stuck his dick back inside me. I arched my back, so his strokes can flow freely into me. I was loving my baby as he squeezed my shoulder with his left hand and pulled my hair with his right, tugging me back on that dick with each stroke. I screamed as if I was giving birth to a child. The louder I got the harder he hit. As Lauryn Hill and D’ Angelo made the world disappear with nothing even matters. Sweat started to pour down on me like rain drops as he moaned while giving me all of him, and I loved having it, as juices flowed out of me like freshly squeezed oranges. He passionately kissed my back as he gave into the same pleasure I was feeling.
Another Saturday night came and went, as he put back on his clothes and grabbed his things, so he can go back to his daily routine. The beauty of the night turned into the beast as he didn’t even speak nor look at me before closing the door behind him. I laid back down on my silver leather love seat and tried to imagine what it would be like to have a man stay with me just one night. A thing I never got after sex, but yet, I was crazy over him with no conversation included. Just crazy may have been the case but something inside of me told me not to give up.
I never been in a real relationship before. I never had the shivery of a man opening my car door, or the romantic walk while holding hands. I wasn’t sure if I was the type of woman for that sort of thing. I was more the kind’ve woman that you would fuck because it was Friday or Saturday and we all know Sunday is for God and families. I wasn’t the one you would call during the week because that meant you had too much time on your hands if you had it to give to me.
I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to be that kind’ve woman. A 24/7 man just wasn’t for me. Just give me a couple of hours of romance, let me light some candles, dress up, and get levitated for the cause. Consistency was never something I could do. I can barely keep the same occupation for a year, let alone keep the same sex partner. I always needed a switch and being single made that possible for me. I never have to check in with someone, or explain any of my moves, and I was excellent at keeping all my ducks in a role; not one of my “friends” ever step out of order once the law was laid. They knew better than to just pop up at my house or roam through my phone on a drunk night. There’s a saying that goes, “If you go looking for trouble you just might find it,” and I understood that better than anyone else, so I returned the favor by playing my part better than Halle and Denzel ever could. If I called and he was with his boo, I’ll call the next who’s not, if the next was with his kids, I’ll call another who don’t have kids. If that one was busy, well, so was I, trying to fill my fix. Dick was a must for me. A night without it was a night in rehab. Even an elephant penis wouldn’t be able to stop me from trying to get something bigger. I had a craving in my body that wasn’t satisfied with just four play, twelve play, three ways, or anything. I had a burning desire to get fucked as much as possible, which wasn’t hard for me to do.
I wasn’t too short, nor to tall. 5’2 worked well with my 25-inch waist and 32 C breast. Yes, I kept everything nice and tight and would let my slight 6 pack show off as often as possible. My ass was a perfect apple bottom and would jiggle with each step I took. I admired my body, but my face made me. You could say I was full of vanity. I would spend 2 hours making sure my lashes were evenly spread apart and curled to perfection, and that my eye brows were shaped and slim the way I liked them, and that my lipstick covered every part of my full Angelina Jolie lips, but I must add; my lips were better than hers ever were. I had the type of lips you would want to kiss just to see how soft they were, and I can wrap these babies around a dick so good all the blood in your body would rush to the top of your head as if you been doing a head stand for forty minutes. My hair fell to my ass, and my nose wasn’t wide, nor was it big. My eyes were shaped like a Puerto Rican and the hazel color only made me that much more attractive. God was putting in overtime when he created me and any person that walked by could clearly see there was an entire day spent on just creating Geneva.
I was the woman probably every man dreamed about when they shut their eyes at night, that’s one of the reasons why I’m still not ready to settle down. Even though 27 crept up on me like a cat would a mouse, and I was facing 28 like it was a criminal charge against me.
I sat up on the couch and grabbed the remaining of the fifth of Hennessy that was left in the bottle after our fuck session. I took a deep breath before placing the bottle up to my lips, then tilted it until my jaws filled with the blessings of spirits. I gulped it down then took another shot before placing the bottle back down on my oval shaped glass coffee table.
The things that ran through my mind appeared as a blur; I came along way from where I use to be and at times, I just wish I could be the old Geneva. The one that gave a fuck about life, but at this point of time, the only thing I cared about was refilling the bottle that was becoming empty. I surround myself with work, sex, and liquor, and I was addicted to all three. Not saying these things weren’t make me happy. I was at my best filled on Patron with my legs spread open. The best way to have sex, a little rest, and I was ready to work for another 48 hours. Not one tear fell out my eyes when guys would hit and leave. I was prone to quickies, and just like Miguel, I didn’t want to be loved, nor have bite marks, scratches or hickies. Just give me this quick fix and miss me with that relationship shit. At first it was because I had things to do, but now its what I expect. I never meant to fall this deep into distance, but emotions had died in me. I had absolutely no feeling for na one nigga that stepped into my life. Each one I met I focused on what he could and could not do for me, and I was an expert at figuring out the situation he was in at the beginning of the introduction. I was damn near close to being a mind reader, and I added and subtracted as much as needed. I knew my number and what I could handle. I knew my time schedule and set my appointments accordingly. Getting caught up was for people like R Kelly and Mr. Biggs; I was never trapped in a closet or caught up by a friend of mine. I kept my ducks in order like I said already, and I knew good and well what I was doing and how to do it right. Mysterious, is how I left my men. Never leaving a piece of me behind. I kept who I was hidden behind doors in case a person ever wanted to use it against me.
Trust was like a withering flower to me, you can only trust a person for so long before they decide to fuck you over, and I wasn’t about to give anyone the opportunity to do so. I even questioned some of my closest female friends in concerns of honesty. I wasn’t the one to get close to anyone. What you knew about me was what I was willing to share, which was very little. It was just about the same amount I cared about someone, damn near zero. It takes way more than dick and a conversation to get into my heart.
I was far different when it came to women and their needs. I was always blunt and straight to the point. I didn’t have time to play childish games and guess whether you would be filling my dose tonight. I was on a mission and that was to fix whatever had been broken inside of me. I wasn’t quite sure what it was that needed to be fixed, but I knew for sure that alcohol and sex was the cure for my illness.
I sat up a little closer to my coffee table and reached for my bottle once more. I looked around the room to remind myself of what I was living for. Everything looked brand new as if I had just bought it. My black leather sofas were as clean as the day I brought them home. My one of a kind antique Chinese handwoven wool silk blue rug took up most the space on my living room floor and shared the same colorful flowers as the pillows that rested on my couches. This small addition added marvelous color to the room which made it more welcoming. My silver curtains draped down to the floors and I had special fabric cornices designed to match my rug and pillows. A 60” smart television was mounted to the wall surrounded by pictures of times family and friends made me smile, and as I looked around the room I thought once again, what has happened to me. I used to be so filled with life, now I’m so filled with cravings. As the thought flew through my mind like a paper plane my phone began to ring.
This had been the third night my phone rang and all I could hear was the sound of hard breathing on the other line. I muted the phone and hit the speaker icon to see if they would speak if they had thought I hung up. After a few seconds of complete silence on the other end I decided to end the call.
“I should probably stop answering unknown callers”
I began to look through my iPhone setting to see if there were any way I could block the callers from calling all together. Sure enough, I found the button to block all unknown callers, but I couldn’t bring myself to press the button. All I could think was, what if someone important must call me from a blocked number. Do I really have to block all unknown calls due to one caller? I exited out the setting section of my iPhone leaving unknown callers to disturb my nights, then took another shot of Hennessey before grabbing my t-shirt and panties then walking to my bedroom.
My best mornings are when I can roll over an see my baby lying next to me. His eyelashes curling to his eyebrows, his honey complexion being grazed by the sun, and how his chest rises and falls all on its own. I admire the spirit that dwells within his masculine vessel that reeks of superiority. He is everything I have been dreaming of, everything I could ever imagine, lying next to me, like a gift from God.
Never had I thought the day would come that I would be able to be with the man I have always dreamed to be with. Yet, he is not completely mine, and I am not completely his. I am a friend, one that spends the night, cook breakfast, cleans his house, enjoys his arms wrapped around me, and smiles from his presence and glow from his grace.
I kiss his forehead then slowly ease myself to the edge of the queen size bed, placing my feet one by one on to the soft plush shag grey area rug that takes up most of the space in his bedroom. I grab my cell phone from off the petite black nightstand that is next to the side of the bed I slept on to check the time.
It had been three hours since we had fallen asleep. Usually most nights he would spend up working until 7 o’clock in the morning. I never bother him though. I love how he’s so devoted to making all his dreams come true. Alantique is a book writer, so when he’s in his zone making things happen, I don’t like to disturb him. He’s always telling me how he doesn’t have enough time for things, such as taking me out, or meeting my family. Those are just things that are not on his to do list. His priorities are in achieving his goals and maintaining his peace. I have never met a man like Alantique. So creative and unique. I don’t think there is anything in the world that he cannot do. His body is magnificent. His skin glows like a light reflecting off water, and his complexion is a hint of honey covering him from head to toe. Small red hairs blended with black ones invades his beard and mustache, and he is covered in tattoos from his arms to his chest, with some on his back and abdomen making his six pack look 3 times better than it already is. He has the perfect eyes whether there open or close, but I like them most when he uses those dark brown sexy eyes to stare deep into mine. He spends most of his time working out, making sure that his body is what every woman desire. He’s into boxing, basketball, karate, football. He really loves sports. He volunteers for anything in the community, he’s loving, kind, and sweet. That’s why he has me glowing on a daily basis, shining like a glow stick, bright like a torch, he is changing me because I am actually happy. I just want to give him my all. He is becoming my everything and I’m hoping and praying that I am becoming his, but there is no way I can be sure because his nature is his ways towards all.
I pick up my clothes and purse from off the black lounge chair next to the nightstand. I then tiptoe to the door and gently open it while hoping it wouldn’t squeak. I slowly slide through the slight opening created so that the hall light won’t shine in his face while he’s sleeping. I finally tiptoe out and shut the door quietly behind me.
The long narrow hallway leads to two other rooms and a closet before reaching the living room, that leads to the dining room, which then led to the kitchen. The Cumaru provided glorious cherrywood shine to the floors, making the beige on the walls look as if it had color. I did not see one single picture on the wall of a family members or loved one. There were only seven letters on his living room wall above his couch that read: R E S P E C T
That was the only word he cared about most. Respect is what he tried to show to everyone, everyone except me. Sometimes I wondered about what we really had. Though we were very close together, we were also very far apart. I was beginning to have a deep sense of confusion, as if this has all been a part of some fantasy that I have conjured up in my imagination. Alantique seems so perfect, but truth be told, he doesn’t share much information with me. He doesn’t talk about work or his books, he doesn’t tell me about his family or his mom and dad. I don’t know much except what he likes to watch on television. I know he doesn’t like to be held, and that he inhales through his nose and exhales through his mouth while sleeping. I know that he doesn’t like to be bothered when he is focused, and that he’s all about health… Is that enough to be in love or falling in love with someone?
I walk into the kitchen and sit my purse in the chair that was in front of the breakfast bar. I then began to put on my clothes. As much as I want to stay and cuddle up with my boo, I have to be at work. I usually pack my work clothes, but I did not have intentions on spending a night here tonight. I was supposed to just stop by to have a talk with him. It had been two weeks since I’ve seen or heard from Alantique. I thought he was completely done with me, then out of nowhere he asked me to stop by. One thing led to another, and here I am putting my panties on in the kitchen. I love the time I spend with Alantique. I’m just hoping and praying that I’m not playing with my own emotions. I’ve been through many rough relationships which failed miserably. What makes it worse is that I have been through many failed relationships without being in a relationship. The last eight years of my life I spent catering to two men. Two men I thought I was in love with, two men I wanted to give my all to, two men that meant the world to me, and yet, those two men broke my heart…
I slowly walk from the kitchen into the dining room and look down the hall one last time before going into the living room and out the front door. I reached in my purse, grabbed the keys to my Mustang GT Convertible, and started the car before I got inside of it. I touched my 12.8 touchscreen car stereo and turned my Pandora station to Rihanna. Immediately, my favorite song began to play “’Best Part,’ by H.E.R,” so I turn the stereo up and adjust the mirrors to make sure everything was in perfect view. I then reversed out his three-car garage driveway and proceeded to my house.
The melody to the music set me down memory lane of when I first met Alantique. We met on social media. I know, a girl like me shouldn’t be on a website looking for love, right? Well, things are more complicated today than the way things were before. Honestly, I don’t even know exactly how to meet a man, especially in person. I get nervous, I hate being approached by strangers. As beautiful as I am, you would think that I would be used to getting attention, but I am not. I’m more the type of woman that… I don’t know… I don’t like being touched by anyone. It’s so hard to get my attention, I don’t think a man would have a chance meeting me face to face. I’m a one man’s woman, and a one woman’s man, type of female. I’m not into all that “Hey baby, you sexy. Good morning beautiful,” from stranger’s type of lady. I wanted to be respected in public. I don’t want to be known as the type of woman that’s going to be shaking her ass in a club, letting you smack her ass, trying to catch attention, or chilling in bars all night, and that’s the type of woman I would feel like if a man approached me in public.
If it weren’t for me hitting up Alantique through a DM we wouldn’t be here today. Something inside me told me he was the one the moment I saw his profile picture, but I bypassed it a couple of times before I decided to give it a chance. I know people lie a lot on social media and that usually it’s not the person you thought it was going to be, but that wasn’t the case when it came to Alantique. He was exactly the man I prayed for. Honest from the beginning, true to his word. Loyal, dedicated… He was and still is the perfect man for me. I cannot imagine my life with out him. Being with him makes me feel like the first time I fell in love. I get butterflies in my stomach, I become speechless and lose track of time when I’m with him. He means so much to me. I just wonder how he feel about me. The way he expresses how he feels is through actions, when I really be looking for the words. Sometimes you just really need to hear someone say how they feel, and that is something I think I will never be able to get out of Alantique.
I pull into my driveway at 4832 Pratt St. and reach into my glove department and grab the garage door opener and press the button. The door slowly opened as if the battery or something was dying. I pulled into the garage once the door had finally opened and I was able to go in the garage without damaging the door more than what was already happening with it. I press the button to shut the garage, but it still didn’t seem to work. The door slowly began moving as if it was trying to close but was not able to. Frustratedly, I snatch off my seat belt and jump out the car and slam the car door. With the garage key pointed directly at the door, I press the button repetitively however, the stubborn door still refuses to budge. I am defeated by the door and relentlessly give up.
It had been a little under three years since I bought this house, and everything just seems to be falling apart. There is plumber in here like once a month because my basement is always flooding. The kitchen sink gets backed up, and the first year I was here I had mice like rice on concrete after a wedding. It’s just been one thing after another.
Sometimes I wish I never bought this house. I had no idea what I was doing, 24 years old, just completed my degree in Nursing. Everyone talks about owning a house, so I went for it. I was so proud to be a first-time homebuyer, but it seems as if as soon as I got the key and opened the door things have continuously been breaking. It looked nice on the outside, Seabrook brick mixed with 50% Savannah grey brick and 50% Georgetown brick… I don’t know what that means, but when the agent said it to me, I thought it was the coolest thing on the planet. Brand new windows, I thought that meant the house had good insulation. The house was supposed to have had an inspection that turned out good. Now I’m starting to question whether the real estate company were lying or not.
I reached back into the car and grabbed my purse and went into the house. I walked through the basement which lead to the stairs that takes me to the kitchen. Usually, I left all the doors that lead into the house unlocked because the garage door would close, but since it was stuck open, each door that lead inside was double checked for security purposes. As I locked the kitchen door behind me, I felt a touch on my shoulder.