Coming home, my energy’s on empty. My body’s sore from the after-hours workout that Mr. Brown gave me. Who knew that any man could have that much stamina? He’d beat my back in all night and woke me in the early hours of the morning for a quickie.

Slipping out of my shoes, I head straight to the bathroom to shower. The water’s refreshing, cleansing my body and mind. Last night’s sexual aroma is washed down the drain as my thoughts drift to the man, whose cum that I can still taste in the back of my throat. We definitely took advantage of our time together.

Carefully fingering my clit, an ache emanates from my swollen pussy. Kwame’s dick was the biggest that I’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming vaginally and orally. A small smile lights my face as memories of last night’s fuck-fest comes to mind. My back to the showerhead, I run my fingers lightly over my breasts. The sensation causes my nipples to harden, and I’m turned on.

Trying once again to slake the lust that arises, I wince at the pain from my fingers, gently touching my pussy. “Shit,” I state, exiting the shower. Savoring the last of his seed on my tongue, my toothbrush removes all traces of Mr. Brown from my entire being.

Or so I thought…

“So, what happens next?” I’m not sure what she means by that. Deja’s watching me over her mimosa at brunch. She’s guzzling it like there’s no tomorrow. “I had him for one night, and that was it,” I reply. That was a month ago and a missed period ago. My eggs are pushed around on the plate before I give up on trying to force myself to eat them. I’m sick to death of replaying our sexual encounter over and over in my head. At what point did our drunk horny asses forget to incorporate a goddamn condom into the situation?

“You have to tell him.” Tell Kwame, the last man that I’d screwed sideways from here to Timbuktu, that the pregnancy test came back positive. I’m not ready to be a baby momma. “You don’t have to worry about anything else. Keep it, and you’re set for the life of the baby, girl.” There she goes giving out stupid ass advice. “An ex-basketball player? I wish that it was me!”

It’s times like these that I wish that I had picked better friends to surround myself with. “I’m keeping the baby and not for no damn check.” I can take care of myself and my child. I don’t need him or his money. “Sensitive, aren’t we?” Gathering my purse, I have to get away from this heifer asap. “Girl, I have to go.”

“Lia? Lia Dobbs?” I’m halfway to my car when I turn to acknowledge the male voice addressing me. Dark skin tone, sexy brown eyes, and six-feet-two—How could I ever forget him? “Scrooge, hi.” I’m pulled into a hug that comforts me and turns me on. “What are you doing here? I thought that you were an international negro.” His smile’s amazing and has me doing a body check.

I felt his solid build when he hugged me, but I do a visual check also. I’m giddy with excitement, and my thoughts flit to Kwame for some reason. They both have perfect teeth and sexy-ass smirks. “Girl, you forgot your sweater. You know that you gotta keep the baby warm.” How unfortunate for this twit to show up at the most inconvenient moment—spewing my business. “Thanks,” I state, snatching my cardigan from her clutches.

“And… who is this?” Her nosey ass asks.

Nobody bitch.

“A former colleague,” I answer.

“A friend.” Scrooge corrects.

He’s an ex that broke my back and my fucking heart. After three years, I fell hard for the “D” and got a ring. He was offered a promotion, and I refused to follow him out of the country. The engagement was called off, and here we are six years later. We’re reuniting in a parking lot, and I’m pregnant with another man’s baby. Chile…

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