Chelsea Maria’s My Heart is Your Secret Sneak Peek

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Keatyn

This morning, I woke up sleeping on clouds. Soft thick clouds that conformed to my body and made the dread of waking up beyond intolerable. I don’t know what good deed I had done to receive such grace, but I was thankful for it. Spending a weekend being pampered at the Magnolia Spa would be any woman’s dream and I was living it. I’ll admit that I wasn’t originally on board when my best friend, Courtney, barged into my hotel room after I had just landed from a twenty-eight-hour flight, and demanded that I get in her cramped Volkswagen Beetle and take a long drive to Boca Raton. I swear I thought those small contraptions were recalled and the German manufacturer had taken them off the market. Anyhow, I got in the ridiculously loud orange hunchback of a car, placed my sunglasses on my face, and let Courtney take me wherever her heart desired. Isn’t it funny how we always complain in the beginning when we don’t want to do something, but once we get there, and realize that we actually want to be there that our tone and attitude changes? Such ungrateful humans we are. Friday, we checked into the spa and received a full year’s worth of pampering that overflowed into Saturday. And now here we were on this amazing Saturday night dancing under the moon and the stars at the new rooftop club, Vex NightClub. The last time I stepped my foot inside of any club was to celebrate graduating nursing school from FAMU in Tallahassee. My friends took me to the Moon, and we danced like we were getting paid to shake our cheeks and flash our milk jugs. I can’t recall the last time I allowed a man’s hands to caress my body, but the feel of Mr. Chocolate, my dancing stranger, strong and soft yet calloused hands gripping and caressing my curves with each thump of the beat, made me regret depriving myself of such goodness. My thin material of a dress and his cotton polo didn’t create a thick enough barrier to keep the outline of his brick chest from being felt against my back. Thanks to my mama and her good southern genes, I inherited her toned thick thighs that made any drumstick envious and gave my dancing partner a serious case of the sticky fingers. He groped. He squeezed. He felt me up like a man should, and I allowed him to cop all the feelings his rapidly beating heart needed to continue gyrating against me. Mama forgive me. What I appreciated most was his cool mint breath. Thirty minutes had to have passed and his breath remained fresh. Not staled. Nor did the coverup of peppermint or gum fade away. He smelled good. Really good. His cologne wasn’t too potent. Enough sandalwood and masculinity to make my knees kiss together like I was a knock kneed child. Brisk waves of his breath danced along my neck causing sensations I haven’t felt in years to tingle all up and down my spine. Then, the icing on the cake– his booty tickler. The well-manicured, coconut oiled beard. Yes, the booty tickler, tormented me so bad that I knew my new pair of lace black panties were a wet havoc mess. I thought I would do my booty some justice tonight. Spoil her a little bit by giving the granny panties that I wore twenty-four seven a rest and act a little boogie. This man’s beard on my neck felt glorious. Magnificent. My neck was enjoying it and continued to give him more and more access until I looked like my head was hanging off my shoulders. Hearing his groans in my ears with each whine of my hips and each contact my butt made with his groin continued to send me closer to a cliff that I never knew was in my line of vision. A man’s groans were euphoric. It was needed. They were needed. Like Black Lives Matter, the moans of a man mattered. His arms that were veiny and strong, gripped my waist tighter and I dug my butt deeper into his manhood. Damn, it felt good. Really good to feel the happiness that I caused to dance in his pants. It had been so long since I took a dance in the sheets and feeling the thickness and length of his girth come alive, brought back so many memories of what it felt like to have the weight of a man between my thighs. “Come home with me,” he groaned in his thick, husky voice. Goodness. This man was a walking wet dream come true. Muscled, smelled good, tall, dark and handsome with a deep voice. But unfortunately, his openness to eagerly take me to his home dried up all wetness and desire. Without turning around, I squeezed his hands in a thank you gesture. “Thanks for dancing with me. Have a good night.” I tried to walk off. I tried to really put an extra sway in my hips to tease him, but I never made it far. Those strong arms that I had begun memorizing gripped my hips and turned me around. “Wait. Wait, pretty lady.” He licked his lips and sized me up like he hadn’t had my body in his arms, dry humping me on a dancefloor full of sweaty bodies. “I promise I’ll make tonight the best you ever had and have you begging me not to stop.” Oh, he was good. Really good, and I bet five dollars that he was a carpet burn lover. The lovers who pumped so fast without any rhythm that their knees were sore and bruised because they made love to the carpet and not love to your yoni. By now I was tickled. Super tickled that a laugh I hadn’t expected to release came out followed by several others. “Oh, really? And what tricks and turns do you have up your sleeve, sir? Please, do tell.” This I had to hear. We were two hours out before the lights of the club would be turned on, but with all the LED lights flashing everywhere I was able to make out a good portion of his face and he was a nice fine chocolate brother. I already knew he played no games with his oral health. Straight pearly whites behind two succulent pink and brown lips and lack of halitosis were enough evidence that Mr. Chocolate was a faithful teeth brusher and never missed his six-month cleanings. Good bone structure and well above my five-foot-eight height requirements. Nice solid build with wide shoulders. Shoulders that I knew had no problem carrying my weight with little to no effort. A nice chocolate bar. “First,” he stepped closer, head lowered only a few centimeters from my lips. “I’m going to make love to you with my tongue.” I cringed inwardly. “Place those thick legs on my shoulders and dive in.” No, this ninja did not sing the last part like his name was Tremaine. Chile boo. It disgusted me how men these days were so quick to put their mouths on women without knowing if they bathed on the regular or the results of her last pap smear. I’m sorry, but this new wave of being a free spirit in the bedroom was not my thing. And all white substances down below in a lady’s private parts were not traces of ‘clean’ essence. Funk and dirt in the cooch were often white and a thick mucus. Trust me, I watched enough porn bloopers to know and my profession kept me in the know. “As much as I appreciate the storytelling of such a delightful night, I cannot partake in such outlandish festivities.” I had enough and wanted to get back to Courtney. I felt like a neglectful friend leaving her by herself for so long just so I could bump and grind with a handsome man. “Come on, Queen. Sit on daddy’s lap and let me worship you as a queen should be worshipped.” Poor thing. His eyes brightened with hope seeing mine stretch in … bafflement. “Calling me queen still won’t get you no ass, King,” I winked. “Besides, this here cooch is out of commission and has been for the last five years now. I’m a proud member of the ‘celibate and waiting till marriage’ club, and God has yet to send me my Job. So, if you wanna go to church tomorrow and then have lunch afterward, I’m down with that.” See, these women had the game all wrong. They wanted an Adam only because he was the first man created and Eve came from his ribs. Nope! I want a man with unrelenting faith like Job. Job lost everything and was plagued by numerous temptations, but he didn’t crumble or curse God. That’s the type of man I want. A man that is dedicated to the Lord and me, that he doesn’t bat an eye at another skeezer out here. Mr. Chocolate looked at me like all the others before him had. Like I lost my damn mind. Without another word, he walked off and went along his way. Probably going after another who was more willing. Shrugging, I danced my way back over to my teary-eyed laughing bestie. “Please tell me that you did not run that fine man off by telling him you’ve been celibate for five years? Please tell me you didn’t share your no-dick horror story, Keatyn?” My parents raised me to never tell a lie and I wasn’t about to start now. “Well, what would you have me to do? Had he not been trying to sell himself and his immaculate tongue,” I cringed, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t have to share my dry spell with him. I have manners you know, and I thanked him for dancing with me. He’s the one who got all brave.” “Keatyn, I love you like my sister. Hell, you are my sister, but honey, you’re going to be single forever if you keep running men off with such a harsh approach. I’m not saying to not tell them but do it in a gentle way.” Courtney squeezed my hand and offered a genuine smile. I knew she meant well and wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings, but what she failed to realize was that I’ve been on this journey for five years. Five long years. In the beginning, I was as nice as Aunt Jean’s raspberry pie. My niceness was taken for a joke and turned into a waiting game to see if I would fold. Eventually, I learned nice wasn’t going to cut it and I had to be upfront from the beginning. So far, I liked those results. “Then how am I supposed to let them know, Coco? I don’t believe in waiting until several dates down the road or when we’re getting hot and heavy making-out in the back seat of his car. I tell them up front so they can make their own decision. If you don’t like my straight to the point system, then get me a shirt I can wear that says ‘Puss hasn’t been touched in five years. Back off.’ Courtney and I shared a hearty laugh because I was serious and she knew I would wear the shirt proud. “Actually, I have something better than a shirt,” she smiled just as a bottle girl came over with a sparkle lit cupcake. She placed it in front of me and walked off leaving me confused. “Coco, what is this?” It wasn’t my birthday. I hadn’t done anything out of the norm that needed to be celebrated. “Before I answer, hold up the cupcake and smile for the camera.” Obliging, I smiled and made a series of goofy faces to appease my dear friend. The sparkler had died down by the last photo and it was then that I saw the rose gold crown ring sitting on top of the cupcake. “This weekend was about us celebrating my sister, you. You started this spiritual awakening journey eight years ago. Eight stands for new beginnings and I believe this is the year for your new beginnings.” Coco dabbed her eyes carefully, making sure not to mess up her perfectly face beat. “Also, today is five years since you not only moved to another country but also decided to be a lady in waiting until the right man comes along. That’s a monumental sacrifice and dedication. That needs to be celebrated. This is a promise ring to yourself to never settle.” Coco handed me a wine glass and raised it in the air. “Cheers to you, best friend.” The rose gold crown ring was decorated with navy blue diamonds in the crown. A beautiful ring with my favorite color gifted from my favorite person. I tried to open my mouth and thank her several times but all I could get out were sobs. Moving to the other side of the table I ingulfed my Coco in the tightest hug I could give and cried on her shoulder, not caring that we were in a packed club and people were probably staring. If there was anyone who understands my journey, it would be Courtney ‘Coco’ Knight. My Coco beans. She knew why I did what I did. Why I sold everything in my condo and everything in it except for sentimental belongings and began my journey of learning how to heal the body without modern medicine. My last relationship ended when I graduated college eight years ago and gave my ex, Jaylen, his engagement ring back. At twenty-two years old I thought he was the love of my life, but what I thought was love was only lust, admiration, and infatuation. I didn’t love Jaylen. I loved how he made me feel and the distraction he provided to my voids. While he loved my dirty panties, I loved his company. My lack of love showed in our lack of chemistry. The man was a walking sex symbol. Had the voice to make your knees weak and lady parts tingle. The height and body to make you scream. He could turn me on with just the baritone of his voice, but he could never keep me turned on. It’s hard to explain the disconnect I had with Jaylen. The attraction was there, and he had no problems with getting me in the mood but once the mood arrived so did my list of unfinished tasks. I enjoyed the feel of him either beneath me or on top of me. Sometimes the feelings caused my legs to shake like a saltshaker. But I quickly lost interest and my mind drifted to what I forgot to finish at work or if I called Courtney back. To make a long story short, I never reached Mount Everest. I never climaxed. Like at all. At first, I thought it was me and I had a broken coochie attached to a brain that didn’t know how to turn off and focus on the moment. The problem was that I was neglecting my mind, body, and soul the pleasure of chemistry and instead was settling with a man who I shared no chemistry with or who could stimulate my mind. My heart and soul craved more. I felt like I was limiting my love, my wants, and desires, my needs for only what he could handle. That was crippling and sickening to my health and overall wellbeing. So, I gave the ring back and set out on a journey to find myself and what I wanted especially before I allowed another to come in my life. Once I mastered self-awareness and set boundaries, my life changed, and I came back home. “Thank you so much, Coco.” A face full of tears didn’t stop me from placing the ring on. Tonight was pure gold. I thought Coco was dragging me to some off the wall place, but this weekend had been nothing short of amazing. It started out with spa treatments made for a queen to her forcing me to get all fancy and sexy in a little black dress with side-boob action. Red lips, smokey eye makeup, spritz of my favorite perfume, and sexy high heels. Life was good. *** Aaron Miss Dior Blossom. Hmph. That was a new scent. Light and flowery. A little on the peony flowers side. One of her more flirty and alluring perfumes, not something I’d expect her to wear to Bikram Yoga. When I left in the middle of the sun breaking through, the remnants of her Dove pomegranate body washed lingered from her morning shower, and drool had left its dried-up trail from her lips to the curve of her jaw. “Michelle, stop moving.” Kisses along her neck and chin were the furthest she would allow me to taste before she wiggled her petite one-hundred and thirty-five pounds of soft feminine curves out of my reach. “I’m sweaty, honey. After I make dinner and shower, I promise I’m all yours.” Three times her round brown eyes blinked up at me with a sweet smile touching her lips. I never and probably will never step foot inside of a Yoga studio, but I knew more about it than those I hung around with. Bikram Yoga wasn’t average like the normal yoga classes. I’ve been with Michelle too long to know the difference, which is why it puzzled me that after a sixty-minute class her scent hadn’t changed. If I were to lick her skin my tongue wouldn’t tingle from the saltiness of her sweat. When I did kiss her, the whiff of her workout was nonexistent. Then there was the slickness of her edges that hadn’t looked like they sweated. Most would probably think that I’m overexaggerating, but I know my woman. She sweated profusely during the night if I held her for too long. She sweated when getting out of the shower. My little porcelain doll was a natural sweater, but she didn’t sweat inside of a one-hundred-and-five-degree studio? “Dinner sounds good, but I want to taste you now.” She ignored me and kept talking about some foolishness that I had no desire to talk about. I worked hard at a lot of things but getting some love from this damn girl before I started my day shouldn’t have been one of them. There weren’t enough hours in a day for me to get through with everything I had on my plate. I woke before the roosters started all that damn yelling and was out the door before the school zones were active. All I wanted to do was chill on this Sunday afternoon under Michelle after she let me have my way with her. “Babe, did you know that Satan created dinosaurs? Jeff, the Israelite I told you about, told me and it makes so much sense now. Satan creates all the bad animals and God creates all the good animals,” her slime frame slipped from my hands once again as she moved around our bedroom. Michelle Grant wasn’t dumb by any means. She was smart and knew it. At twenty-five, she was a recent law school graduate and currently studying for her LSAT’s. She had the brains to match her beauty. But what she lacked was common sense and that overshadowed everything else she had accomplished. When I first met Michelle, it was her smooth pecan skin that had no blemishes that caught my eye. There weren’t dark spots or scars on her slim body. With legs for days, she knew what she was working with and took great care to maintain her perfect body. Her breasts and ass weren’t outlandish like some of these females. Her assets were enough for me and my pleasure and that’s all that mattered. “Mannn.” Groaning, I lifted off the bed and stood there staring down at my gym shorts. A second ago I was bricking up so tall I wouldn’t have been surprised if I broke the seam. However, the minute this damn girl started talking crazy, my shit deflated like a poked silicone titty. Michelle continued talking and talking, explaining her theory of evolution and how I should convert to become an Israelite. It was then that I knew this damn girl was with the shits. Part of me thought she was talking crazy because she wanted to get out of going to church tomorrow, but her silly ass was dead serious. I was disturbed. Really disturbed. I should’ve known this wasn’t a game when she started saying how she wanted to raise our future children on the Israelite beliefs. That was a negative. “I need to smoke.” Leaving her to talk to herself, I went outside and rolled the fattest blunt I could fit in my backwood. Not soon after I took my first inhale my brother, Cassian, pulled up. “What’s up, Boe?” He nodded his head, taking a seat next to me. Holding the blunt out for him to grab, I took a look at the front door to see if I closed it all the way. “Aye, did you know that Satan created dinosaurs?” Cassian smacked the blunt out of my hand and stomped it to mush. “Aye bitch, what the fuck you did that for?” “Who in the hell did you buy your weed from? You smokin’ that fairy dust now?” Cassian took the rest of the weed I had sitting on the end table and dumped it into the yard. I stood, ready to smack him upside

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