Page 10 of Sweetest Temptation
When I was done, I hopped in the shower. The hot water hit my skin, rolling the tension out of my muscles as the steam wrapped around me. I dragged the washcloth over my chest, trying to scrub off more than just sweat.
My mind drifted back to what my sister said on the phone about Paige, my ex-wife. Just the mention of her name alwaysput a nigga in a bad headspace. No matter how many times I told her ass to stop using my name for her personal gain, she still did the shit, parading with it like she still had rights to it. The more I thought about the shit, the hotter the water seemed, damn near scalding my skin. I clenched my jaw and pressed my palms against the tile, letting the spray beat on the back of my neck.
Paige had taken more than my trust when she stepped out of our marriage; she made it damn near impossible for me to trust another woman. She turned something so beautiful into something that felt like a setup. The love was fake; it had to be because the moment I let my guard down, someone was waiting to stab me in the back. That’s the type of wound that doesn’t heal quickly, and what burned me most was that I didn’t see it coming.
I gave my ex-wife everything, spoiled her to no end. And yet, I was blindsided, burned, caught up in love, thinking we were solid. I thought the love we built was enough to weather all the late nights I was out hustling and the sacrifices that came with it. But I was wrong. Instead, while I was out here slanging dope, the bitch was slanging her pussy to another nigga.
I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, trying to ground myself. Paige’s betrayal wasn’t just about cheating; it was the disrespect, the lies, and the way she flipped the blame back on me like I drove her onto somebody else’s dick. Using her loneliness as an excuse, she thought I would accept it and we’d live happily ever after. That shit still rang in my head like a bad song, one I couldn’t turn off, no matter how many times I tried to drown it out.
Shaking the negative thoughts, I dragged the washcloth over my skin one more time before shutting off the water. Stepping out of the shower, my feet hit the heated floor as steam followed me like a cloud I couldn’t shake. I wrapped a towel around my waist and moved into the bedroom.
I slapped on some lotion before slipping into some boxers and a white beater. My clothes for the day were already laid out across the bed—sharp and pressed, exactly how I liked them. On the nightstand sat my morning protein shake, condensation dripping down the glass from the chill. My house butler had everything in place before I even asked.
Funny how the little things in my life ran smoothly, yet the big shit like love and trust was a whole mess. That’s the part Paige didn’t understand. I built structure, control, and routine because chaos had already taken enough from me when I ran the streets.
I took a slow sip of the shake, eyes lingering on the sunlight cutting across the room. Some days, it felt like no matter how much I tried to move forward, her shadow was still there, creeping in the corners of my life.
Slipping on my clothes, the Tom Ford suit jacket fell onto my shoulders like it was made for me, because it was. The crisp white shirt, blue silk tie, and diamond cufflinks made a nigga feel like a million bucks. My reflection in the mirror looked like a man who didn’t just enter rooms, he owned them.
I fastened my silver Audemars watch, slipped on my shoes, and grabbed my keys before heading to the garage. I hit the locks on my Bentley Continental, with its midnight black paint, shining like a mirror from the sunlight, as soon as the garage doors lifted.
The engine purred to life, sending a slight rumble through the ride. I pulled out of my winding driveway and cruised downtown, listening to some old-school rap. That was my go-to now because the shit these young generations are listening to is some trash. Not all, but most.
By the time I reached my office, I was already in the needed mindset: controlled, focused, and unshakable. Jamila was waiting inside my office when I got there, perched on theedge of my desk like she owned the place, tablet in hand already as always, ready to work. That’s why I hired her. She was always on point when it came to my business, and she was one hell of an assistant. Even when she got pregnant with my niece a few years ago, her duties never wavered.
“Took you long enough,” she said with a smirk.
“It’s eleven forty-five.” I shot back. “That’s early.”
“Early for you,” she said, standing to hand me the folder. “Read it twice, and try not to stare at her the way you stare at yourself in the mirror.”
I raised a brow. “You don’t know me.”
“Oh, I know you,” Jamila said with a laugh. “Better than anybody.”
“Then you already know this meeting’s about to be handled.”
“Mhm. Here is everything about the client you are meeting today. She owns Zanova’s Tasty Treats. Another location is about to open in a few months…”
“Wait. That bakery G-Ma gets those oatmeal cookies from every damn week?”
“Yup! Her cakes are dope as fuck also. I looked her up. She has over ten million followers on TikTok, and her bakery is doing numbers. You might want to consider this, bro. Oh, and she’s pretty. She’s just your type.” Jamila smirked.
“You don’t know my type. You and mama gon’ stop trying to hook me up. All y’all doing is finding me easy pussy.” I chuckled.
I was speaking facts. Jamila and my mother always find me “nice girls.” They had no idea that those same nice girls were giving up the pussy quicker than the freaks in my mama church.
“Whatever! I’m going to my office to look over some contracts. Don’t forget to sign the one from Armstrong Enterprises. I need to send it in before you leave for the trip, which I’m still bummed about because I can’t go.” She grabbedher tablet and walked out of the office, heels clicking against the marble floors as the door shut behind her.
Getting my day started, I leaned back in my chair, flipping the folder open that held a background check of Zanova Pierce. Everyone I do business with went through the same channels. I like to know beforehand who I’m dealing with. That’s when I saw her. Kim, or should I say, Zanova? I knew she gave me a fake-ass name. Her picture sat on the first page, and the night we shared came back to me like a movie I couldn’t turn off. The way her pussy gripped my dick like it didn’t want to let me go, and the sweet taste of her pussy still haunted me to this day.
She was standing behind a display of cakes, smiling like the world belonged to her. Apron tied snug around her waist with her business logo stamped across the front, but my eyes didn’t give a damn about the branding. They were ogling her. The smile that sat on her face was soft but confident, as if she knew she was good at what she did and didn’t need validation. Her eyes caught me, making a nigga heart do some shit I ain’t felt in a long time. They were big and almond-shaped, with this spark that made me think she laughed often. She looked like the type of woman who could light up a room just by looking around it. And then there were her lips—full, plump, and damn near begging to be kissed. I caught myself staring too long, but hell, I couldn’t help it.
My gaze traveled lower on the photo, taking in how thick she still was, curves filling out that apron in a way that left too much for my imagination to play with. She wasn’t a runway, petite figure, with fake breasts and ass like my ex-wife. Nah, Zanova looked real; the type of thick you could actually grab onto.
I sat back, smirking without meaning to. Baby girl played me. She gave me the best pussy of my life, and then ghosted me the next morning. No note—not even a damn “thanks for the best dick of my life.” Nothing. Just gone, leaving behind her sweet scent on my lips and beard.
I should’ve been pissed, but instead, I was impressed. Most women clung to me after getting this dick, but not her. She dipped before the sun came up like a thief in the night, and now here she was, smiling in this picture like she didn’t flip a nigga whole world upside down. I closed the folder slowly, tongue pressing against my cheek as I stared out my office window.
