Married to His Lies (Love. Lies & Lust Series) Read online

  Married To His Lies

  By MZ. ROBINSON

  Copyright © 2010 Mz. Robinson

  Published by G Street Chronicles

  P.O. Box 490082

  College Park, GA 30349

  www.gstreetchronicles.com

  [email protected]

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission from the publisher or author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real persons. All the characters, incidents and dialogues are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or person living or dead is purely coincidental.

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  Dedication

  “A man is known for his words but remembered by his actions.”

  Mz. R

  This book is dedicated to my father, Ray. Daddy, you were the first on the scene, ready to hustle and promote for me. Thank you! For every encouraging word, the tears you wiped from my eyes, and every time you came to my rescue, thank you. I will never forget all that you’ve done. Also, thank you for teaching me that loving another person does not constitute forgetting who I am. I love you!

  Smooches

  Acknowledgements

  First, giving all the honor and glory to my loving Savior Jesus Christ, I said it once and I will say it again, “I am nothing without you.”

  To my beautiful mother, Shirley, Mommy, thank you for getting out there and promoting your baby. You are truly the best mom in the world. I love you! To Michael, please remember Philippians 4:13. I love you. To my partner in crime, Banita Brooks, thank you for listening to me vent, making me laugh, and knowing how to keep a secret. You are one of the realest women I know. To my cousin, Kenyetta Hewlett-Ashford, I love you sweetie! I also want to thank you for forgiving me when I was MIA. To Ms. Joann, thank you for the love and support, I’m proud to claim you as my adoptive Mother. To George Sherman Hudson and the G Street Chronicles team, thank you. I will never be able to express my gratitude. I have much love and respect for you. To Valerie Ann Williams, I love you girl. Thank you for the encouragement and getting the word out. You are truly a beautiful and bad chick! To my Uncle JT, thank you for always being there to offer a kind word and a helping hand. I love you. To LaVonda Howard, of Cupcake Creative studio, thank you for creating one hot cover after another. To Anita Shari-Peterson with Catawba Publishing, thank you for all that you do.

  Most of all, thank you for your patience. To Doris, I hope you enjoy and thank you for the support. To all the readers out there, thank you…thank you…thank you. To everyone who stayed down and remained true, thank you.

  Last but definitely not least to my Lord and Savior again. For you are the first and the last. My beginning and the only man who controls my end.

  Mz R

  Chapter1

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Kenny said, kissing my forehead. “I promise it’ll be just the two of us next weekend.

  “You’ve been saying that for the last month,” I said annoyed.

  “What am I suppose to do, Shontay?”

  Stepping back, I put some distance between the two of us. “Why don’t you try telling Alicia that we’ve had Kiya for the last four weekends, and this weekend, we’d like to spend some time alone?”

  Frowning, Kenny rubbed his hand back and forth across the stubble on his face. “Alicia is trying to get her cosmetology license,” he said. “She works through the week, so that only leaves the weekends for her to go to classes.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Not only was he canceling our plans for another Saturday alone, but he also wanted me to support his ghetto-tramp baby’s mama in her educational endeavors. I had put my own education on hold to support him and our marriage, and not once did I get a thank you. Now he had the audacity to support Alicia’s trifling ass.

  “Maybe she should have thought about that before she decided to lay up with someone else’s man,” I snapped. “Besides, I thought you told me Kiya was going to be with her grandmother this weekend.”

  “She was, but Alicia’s mom decided to go to Tunica,” he said.

  “She didn’t tell Alicia until this morning.”

  Rolling my eyes, I threw my hands up in frustration. I was defeated, and arguing about the subject wasn’t going to change a thing. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I exhaled. “I’ll think of something for the three of us to do together,” I said.

  “Thanks, baby,” he said smiling.

  ***

  Scanning over the selection of paperback and hardcover books, I searched for something to take home and read. I was spending a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Barnes and Nobles alone. After thirty minutes with Kenny and Kiya, I decided I needed a break. I pulled out a paperback titled G-Spot by Noire, and began to read the back cover.

  “That’s a hot piece,” I heard someone say.

  I looked up and found myself staring into a pair of gray cat-like eyes. The eyes complimented thick eyebrows and a pair of succulent-full lips. The man they belonged to had smooth, flawless skin, the color of pecans. I nonchalantly lowered my eyes, and glanced over his wide built frame. Even in the dirt-covered overalls he was wearing, I could tell he had large biceps and an athletic physique. He was wearing a dingy black bandana that hid his hair, and cement covered leather steel toe boots. Sexy, even covered in dirt, I thought. I redirected my attention back to his eyes, and asked, “Excuse me?”

  He smiled, revealing a set of straight white teeth. “G-Spot,” he said. His voice was deep and sexy. He had the type of voice that was perfect for phone sex. “It’s a hot piece,” he said. His thick tongue rolled along the edge of his bottom lip, causing heat to surge through the seat of my panties.

  I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, and asked, “You’ve read it?” His eyes traveled from my face down to my low cut tank top, then back up again. “Yes,” he said, “it’s one of my favorites.”

  “Thanks.” I said, giving him a small smile. As I turned around to walk away, I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my ass through my denim Capri pants.

  “So, you’re just going to take my suggestion and run?” he asked.

  I turned around slowly, and my eyes locked with his. There was something so sexual about the way he looked at me. For a brief second I could have sworn I saw “Let’s fuck”, spelled out in his corneas.

  “You could at least tell me your name,” he said seductively.

  Trying to control the flutters in my stomach, and keep my hardened nipples from poking a hole in my shirt, I crossed my arms across my breasts.

  “Thanks again,” I said, instead of telling him my name. “Have a nice day.”

  I quickly walked up the aisle to the checkout. I was practically running to get away from him, not because I thought he was a psycho or a rapist. But because, in less than five minutes, he had accomplished what my husband hadn’t been able to do in weeks; he managed to make my pussy wet.

  After making my purchase, I sat in my car watching the front doors of the store. After five minutes, he walked out carrying a large bag. He walked with his head held high, and th
is air of confidence. The brother was fine. I’m talking fine with a capital F, as in “fuck me fine”. I stalked him until he climbed into a white Ford F150 with SB Building & Construction painted in bright red letters on the door, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  I reclined the driver’s seat of my Honda Accord and unbuttoned the top of my pants. The dark tint on my windows prevented anyone from seeing inside. That was a good thing, because I sat there in broad daylight with my AC blowing and my fingers inside my panties, stroking my throbbing clit. I closed my eyes, and a vivid picture of the stranger filled my head. I massaged and played with my clit until I came. The entire time I had been daydreaming that he was down on his knees with his face in between my legs.

  ***

  I walked through the doorway of my home and cursed. My living room was a mess. “Damnit,” I muttered under my breath.

  I tripped over a bikini clad black Barbie, and kicked the doll across the floor. I looked around the room. There were dolls and building blocks everywhere. The room looked like a toy factory.

  Why can’t he make her pick-up after herself?

  Kicking my way through the toys to the kitchen, I contemplated on cleaning up my stepdaughter’s mess, but then decided against it. I had been playing Kenny’s maid for the last eight years, I was not about to do the same for his daughter.

  Before Kenny and I got married two years ago, we had dated for six years. He was the first man I ever trusted; that’s where I made my mistake. I thought he could do no wrong. I put his ass on a pedestal, and damn near kissed the ground he walked on. In return, he made a fool of me by running from motel to motel with woman after woman after woman. It’s not that Kenny isn’t a good man; he just has a big problem keeping his dick to himself.

  He cheated more times than I can count, and probably more than I care to know. Before we got married, there were several occasions my best friend and I busted him with other women. It was never a difficult task to catch Kenny, because he was never good at covering his tracks.

  Whenever there was a new female in his life, he would start acting real shady. He’d come in at the wee hours in the morning, stumbling over his explanation of where he was and what he had been doing. He even walked around the house with his cell phone, like it was glued to his hip. If he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water, he carried his cell. When he got up to change the TV, he had his cell. Even when he went into the bathroom to take a piss, he had that damn phone. Kenny carried his phone around like it was his second dick. So, it was quite obvious when he was cheating on me.

  I have to give him some credit; he managed to keep his daughter a secret for the two years of our marriage. I found out about Kiya, courtesy of three-way calling. To make a long story short, I checked his cell phone call history online, and discovered he had been calling this one particular number several times a day. I had my girl, Octavia, call the number on three-way, and the two of us were greeted by the sweet voice of a little girl. When her father took the phone from her, his voice sent my heart straight to my toes. The little girl was Kiya Janai Green, and her father was my husband.

  I kicked Kenny out of our home that day. I was hurt beyond words. Looking back now, I don’t know if my heart felt more pain from his keeping his daughter a secret from me, or more so because another woman had given him the one thing I couldn’t. My right to conceive and bare children was stolen from me at an early age.

  Anyway, after two weeks of Kenny begging to come home, and my suffering through unbearable loneliness, I let him move back in. I swallowed what little pride I had left, and agreed to try and make our extended family work.

  The sound of the door unlocking caught my attention. I sighed loudly, preparing myself for Kiya to come running into the room.

  “Hey baby,” Kenny said, walking through the doorway alone. He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down.

  “Where’s Kiya?” I asked.

  “I took her to my mom’s crib,” Kenny said.

  “How is Etta?”

  “Good,” he said smiling. “She asked about you.”

  I gave him my “yeah right” look, and rolled my eyes. Kenny’s mother had no love for me whatsoever. I overheard her telling him once that I was holding him back. Imagine that. I have my Bachelor’s in Elementary Education, a decent job as Assistant Director at a daycare, and good credit. Kenny worked for the City of Huntsville cutting grass, only had his GED because I helped him study for the exam, and he couldn’t get a glass of water on credit without me co-signing. He wasn’t even providing a roof over my head. The house we lived in also belonged to me.

  My grandmother, Martha, God rest her beautiful soul, bought the three bedroom house for me before she died. To top it off, the 2000 Mitsubishi Eclipse he drove was in my name. Etta either had too much faith in her son, or she was plain delusional. I was not holding her son back, I was carrying his ass.

  “I’m serious, she asked about you,” he said unconvincingly.

  I studied his facial features, while pretending to listen to him ramble on and on about Etta’s garden. I loved Kenny, but he had nothing on the brother from the bookstore. Kenny is dark skinned, with high cheekbones and wide dark eyes. He isn’t what most women would consider handsome, but he oozes with self-confidence.

  His self-confidence gave him a certain sex appeal.

  I stood up, leaned over and kissed his lips. I parted his lips with my tongue, while running my fingers through the low-cut waves in his hair. Standing up, he placed both of his hands on my ass. “How you feeling?” he asked, in between kisses. That was his way of asking if I wanted to make love. I grabbed the hardness in his pants, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Give me five minutes to start the shower.” I said seductively. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down my backside.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, I stood wrapped in a thick terry cloth bath towel. I was dripping wet from my warm shower, the shower I had anticipated on sharing with my husband. I walked into the bedroom and looked at him, as disappointment ran through my body. Kenny was stretched out across the bed, sleeping like a newborn baby.

  He slept for the rest of the night, so I crawled up with my new book, and ended up reading it from beginning to end. The brother from the store was right, it was a hot piece. In fact, it was so hot that my fingers were deep inside my pussy, while Kenny lay beside me snoring.

  Chapter 2

  I hoped that the two of us could make up for last night, but Etta stopped that show when she called, whining about her dish washer overflowing again.

  “She put dishwashing liquid in it again,” Kenny explained.

  You’d think, after the first ten times, the sixty year old woman would understand that dishwashing detergent and dishwasher detergent are two completely different things. There were times that I was convinced she was doing it on purpose.

  I knew that Etta would find some other petty task for Kenny to complete, so I showered and put on my Baby Phat denim shorts, red Baby Phat tank top, and climbed into my car. I drove outside of the city to the Monrovia District to visit my homegirl and my goddaughter at their home.

  Octavia opened the front door of her personal mansion wearing a shimmering pink bikini top and a sheer sarong that covered her matching bikini bottom. Her body didn’t have an ounce of fat on it. I stared at her double Ds, thinking that they now looked like triple Ds. She looked great from head to toe. It was hard to believe that she had given birth three months ago.

  “Hey girl!” I said.

  “Hey!” Octavia said.

  The two of us exchanged a friendly hug, before I followed her through her foyer into the kitchen.

  “Where’s my goddaughter?” I asked.

  Putting her hands on her hips, she cocked her head to one side. Her movements caused her long spiral curls to bounce from one side of her head to the other. “Damn, I’m fine, and you!” she said, sucking her teeth.

  “My bad!” I said sarcastically
. “How are you?” I asked sweetly.

  “I’m fine,” she said smiling.

  “Now, where’s my goddaughter?”

  “Out back with her father.”

  “Daddy’s little girl,” I said laughing.

  “You know it.”

  I watched her as she removed a glass pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator shelf and sat it on a wooden tray on the counter. She removed four tall crystal glasses from the cabinet and sat them on the tray.

  “How are Kenny and Kiya?” she asked.

  “Fine,” I said nonchalantly.

  “What’s up?” she asked, staring at me.

  I wanted to tell her that lately I had become more and more unsatisfied with my marriage, my job, and my life in general, but I didn’t. Instead, I lied and said, “Nothing.”

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “Positive.” I said smiling. “And today I don’t want to do anything but relax with my girls and my favorite brother-in-law.”

  “Well, if you do want to talk, I’m here for you.”

  I smiled at my best friend, who had been more like a sister to me. “I know,” I said.

  Picking up the tray, she rolled her eyes at me. “Let’s go see your goddaughter. I know she’s the one you really came to see.”

  Laughing, I followed her through the glass French doors that led outside to her large patio. The scent of smoke and mesquite filled my nostrils, causing my stomach to rumble.

  “Damon’s on the grill?” I asked.

  “Yep, he’s giving Jasmine her first BBQ lesson.”

  The outdoor stereo system was on with Al Green’s Love and Happiness blasting from the speakers. Damon stood at the outdoor kitchen wearing denim shorts, with the receiver to the baby monitor clipped to his waist. The white tank T-shirt he had on exposed his huge biceps. He was flipping burgers and singing along with Al.

  “Love will make you do wrong!” he sang. “Love will make you do right!”

  “Hey brother-in-law,” I said, trying not to laugh.