Lying Lips by Mahaughani Fiyah Read Free Book Online Page A

restaurants in Los Angeles, in Chicago, in Manhattan?” I asked with passion. “Are you honestly telling me that you will never travel away from home to look after them? Would it be right for me to ask you not to travel because I want you home? Do I really have the right to ask you to give up what you love and take away what obviously means a lot to you?” I pressed. “Asanti, I would never do that to you.”
    He was silent.
    Very silent.
    I knew I had him.
    He knew it too.
    “Alright, you have a very valid point,” was his response. “You told me before we were married that you loved your job, that you wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. I have no right to take your happiness away from you. But I do have the right to be jealous,” he said quietly, through clenched teeth. “And I am very jealous. Crazy when I’m jealous.” He looked me in the eyes. “Dangerous when I’m jealous.”
    I was shocked to hear those words. Terrified of those words.
    “Why would you be jealous?” I ventured to ask.
    He looked at me as though that answer was blaringly apparent.
    “I don’t want you to love anything or anyone like you love me,” he didn’t blink once.
    I was floored. My heart began to race and I was on the verge of breaking out in a cold sweat. I stood nervously and slowly walked to his end of the huge dining table. I walked behind the chair that he was sitting in and wrapped my arms around him. He grabbed me. Held me. Squeezed me tight.
    “I can never love another like I love you,” I told him.
    “Marina, excuse yourself please,” my mate said without even looking at the maid who was standing off in the distance waiting to cater to our every whim.
    Marina did as she was told and rushed out of the room.
    Asanti threw everything that was on the table in front of him onto the floor. It landed with a loud crash. Food and beverage splashing and spattering everywhere. He grabbed me and lifted me and lay me on the table before him in place of his breakfast. He reached for my short skirt. Ripped it. Then ripped my panties off with his teeth. My core was exposed to him. He licked his lips. Exposed himself to me. Bent his body forward until his chest was crushing mine. Then he filled me.
    “Aaaaaaaaah,” I moaned out loudly, breathlessly.
    My body went into Asanti mode again.
    He took me.
    Hard this time.
    Rough.
    Fiercely.
    Completely.
    I creamed until it spilled from me.
    All over my husband’s shaft.
    And onto the breakfast table.
    Asanti growled in my ear. I felt his body twitch.
    “Now you can go,” he told me hoarsely as his core prepared to burst forth. “But only because you’re taking the best of me with you,” he spoke sincerely, profoundly.
    Then his essence escaped him. Gently. Poured slowly out of him. Into me. And saturated my walls. Clinging to me just as Asanti wanted to.
     
     
    Ten hours later, I was standing in the midst of Louis Armstrong International Airport. I was in New Orleans. My home town. And I was scared to death. So much had changed since I’d left a month ago. I was a different person. A new person. How would I deal with who I had become? How would I deal with my new life while still facing my old one? My life had changed by leaps and bounds. I never would have thought it could happen to me.
    I pulled out my new cell phone, bought for me by my new husband, and dialed.
    “Hello baby,” he said after the first ring.
    “I  made it,” I said cheerfully. It was fake.
    “You don’t sound too good, Legaci. Do you need me to fly out there and be with you?”
    Alarm settled in my chest.
    “No, sweetheart. I’m just missing you already is all,” I came up with a lie on the spot.
    I didn’t want Asanti with me in New Orleans. I needed time alone to think and get my head together.
    “I miss you too, darling,” he told me lovingly. “My Mandingo misses you more. Those words made me instantly wet. I could feel my panties being inundated with my cream. He was doing it again.