The Sweetest Taboo Read Free Page A

to understand to all the chicks he really wanted to get with.
    Which was why, years later, she never counted on his throwing salt in the game. Kicking it to her like he wanted more than just pussy. Like he had to have her heart too. Coming at her extra hard, knowing she’d never been treated this way: the late night phone calls, singing to her, rubbing her feet, cooking for her, buying her things, valuing her opinions, listening to her, loving her and fucking her like she’d
never…ever
been fucked before.
    Yuri tried desperately to fight off her feelings and focus on the richness of Britt’s Trinidadian dick. The length of it defied the twelve-inch ruler, the thickness and the uncircumcised tip made the myth of a big black dick exist. Even the ridges of his balls and the way they swirled across his skin and blended smoothly into one another exuded beauty.
    Yuri glanced at the alarm clock flashing seven A.M. from the top of the maple nightstand while trying not to think about how quickly the last two hours had zoomed by, but she couldn’t help it; like cheating, counting the time had become a habit she’d picked up.
    She took a deep breath and wished Britt would resume seducing her again. He knew their time was limited, yet it seemed that getting zooted off ganja and practicing new scats for his out-of-town performance was all that occupied his mind.
    Usually Yuri would just say whatever she had to and care about Britt’s reaction later. But not this time; she was caught up. Caught up in too many fulfilled fantasies and tangible dreams. Life was sweeter with a shitload of woulda, coulda, shouldas and what-ifs, but now she had reality to deal with; and reality was kicking ass and fighting her like hell not to let go.
    For a moment Yuri studied Britt to see if there was something about him that could make being in love with him feel better, but all she got was a confirmation that loving him had become a destructive mix of eating where you shit. “Look”—Yuri sucked her teeth—“we gon’ fuck again, or what?”
    Britt stopped singing and took a pull of his blunt. “What?” he said while releasing the smoke.
    “I rushed out this morning so you could catch a flight this afternoon. Now either we gon’ fuck or I got other shit to do.”
    “What?”
    “
I said,
” Yuri stressed, “is this it for the dick? What, you need a pill and shit? Your hard on have a time limit?”
    Britt raised one of his thick eyebrows and chuckled in disbelief. “Yo, my man,” he said, calling her by the pet name he’d given her, “chill.” He mashed his blunt in the ashtray and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. He grabbed one of the plush white towels that sat on the hotel’s vanity and wrapped it around his waist, then took another and tossed it behind his neck.
    “Chill?” Yuri spat, holding back tears, hating that her feelings were hurt by his saying something so simple. “Niggah, it’s seven o’clock in the morning. I ran my black ass down here and all you’ve done besides give
me
a half-ass nut is get high and ignore the shit outta me. If I wanted to be ignored I would’ve stayed home.”
    “Yo, my man,” Britt repeated himself, but with more base in his voice than before. “Trust me. Chill.”
    “Fuck ‘chill,’ and right about now fuck you. And by the way, I’m not a man, so stop calling me that!”
    “What de muthascunt—” Britt quickly changed from his usual Brooklyn accent to a strong Trinidadian one.
    “You called my mother a what?” Yuri cut him off. “Speak clearly.”
    “Oh, now you don’t understand me?” Britt was pissed. “Gon’ ask me what I say about your mother. You know damn well I ain’t say nothin’ about your mother.” Britt sighed. “But what you don’t know is I’ma ’bout to leave yo’ ass alone and hit you off with some time to think.”
    Yuri tried desperately to control her tears. “I did not sign up for this!” She rose from the bed and started collecting her