SIDECHICK: CATCHING FEELINGS Read online

  SIDECHICK

  Catching Feelings

  K Nicole

  A K Nicole Exclusive

  Copyright © 2021 K. NICOLE

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  PERRI

  Throwing my ass back on Roman, I made sure to clench my pussy muscles to choke his eight-inch dick as he pummeled me from behind. I was so wet, just like he liked it. When it came to Roman, I never had desert pussy. I allowed him to handle me as he always did.

  Rough.

  He choked me while digging in my guts, slapped my ass hard enough to leave handprints on my light skin, and left my pussy sore where I’d have to soak in scorching hot water until the water turned cold.

  Roman made sure I didn’t leave any passion marks or scratches on his body. He always made sure my hands were in fists grabbing the sheets and my face in the pillow. He couldn’t go home to his wife of nine years with marks from another woman. Yeah, that’s right, I was fucking a married man. I was a side chick and had been for six months now. Was I happy about it? I meeeean, not really but he took care of me. Roman approached me, and not the other way around. I wasn’t even looking for a nigga at this little gathering my cousin Reek held at his house one night. Roman just ended up walking up to me and dared me to fuck him in the bathroom. Loving a challenge and because I was tipsy, feeling good and horny, I took him up on it. He didn’t have to fuck me like that. All good ‘n shit. Since then, I’ve been hooked on the dick and the cash he would consistently toss at me.

  There was nothing wrong in his marriage. In fact, Roman claimed he was happily married with four kids, but when he saw me at the party, he had to have me. He had a high sex drive, and I matched his freak. The kind of cash he gave me, I let him fuck me however he wanted to. In the mouth…ass…whatever floats his boat. Six months of fucking Roman led me to where I was today. Falling in love with a man I couldn’t have.

  I know you don’t feel sorry for me, and I completely understand. I had no business having sex with a man who had a family and was happy, but if he couldn’t stop, then neither could I. It was what it was. It was me who wasn’t supposed to be loyal to his wife and kids. It was Roman. Right now, I didn’t want to let him go. Never. I greedily wanted him to leave his wife for me, and I could be step mama to his kids. I didn’t have kids. Well…if you didn’t count the two abortions Roman made me get.

  “Fuuuuuck!” he grunted, before pulling out and releasing on my ass. I twerked my cheeks until he finished. Roman leaned over and wrapped his large rugged hand around my neck to pull me back and kiss me roughly, and sloppily in my mouth. Roman was a solid built, caramel complected nigga. His arms were big and strong. He uses those when he picks me up with ease as he slams me down onto his dick. His brows were bushy and perfectly arched. Roman had a funnel, strong nose, full lips, deep set brown eyes, and a strong jawline that had a neatly trimmed beard. He was six foot even with broad shoulders and I loved me a tall nigga since I was only 5’1. He used to be a wide receiver when he played football in college and I could see that.

  He let me go and then swaggered to my bathroom to shower. On wobbly legs, I followed him so we could fuck once more before he left to tend to his husband and father duties.

  Like always, Roman dropped a few stacks on the dresser for me before he left. After dressing into a cute wine colored romper that stopped right underneath my cheeks, and a pair of nude sandals, I sent my best friend, Wes a text telling him to meet me at the mall in thirty minutes for some retail therapy. Of course, he agreed.

  Wes was my very gay friend of six years. We met at Fish Camp as we were entering the ninth grade. He knew everything about me, all my hoe excursions…everything. Unlike me, Wes was married to a guy named Paul. From what I could tell, Paul didn’t give a fuck about me because he felt like I was a bad influence on Wes. He thought since I was doing single shit because hey, I was single, that Wes would do the same shit. That only caused for me and my bestie not to see each other as much because Wes was trying his best to please the both of us. What he wouldn’t do is miss out on a good retail therapy because I always had some tea.

  After locking up the front door of the two bedroom, two and a half bathroom house with a huge backyard that Roman bought me, I jumped in my white Jeep with peanut butter interior that was also a gift from Roman. The power of pussy, you feel me?

  I pulled out of the newly paved driveway blasting Cardi B’s Up song. I felt all of the lyrics and twerked in my seat as I drove to the Galleria Dallas.

  I said my face bomb, ass tight

  Racks stack up Shaq height

  Jewelry on me, flashlight

  I been lit since last night

  Hit him with that good, good

  Make a nigga act right

  Broke Boys don’t deserve np pussy

  “I know that’s right!” I screamed out, giggling hysterically. That was my biiiitch!

  Thirty-five minutes later, I was parking at the mall and hopped out with my new Chanel bag that ran Roman five bands. I slipped my oversized Gucci shades on my face and locked up.

  “Damn bitch. You got me waiting on your funky ass,” Wes scolded. We air kissed and trekked to our first store…Louis Vuitton.

  “Roman had put that dick on a bitch,” I grinned from ear to ear.

  Wes chuckled, “I bet he did. He gon’ leave his wife?”

  I shrugged, as we were greeted by an employee and asked if we would like champagne while we shopped. I was a regular and they treated me nicely. Me and Wes accepted the flutes and sipped as we shopped.

  “I haven’t asked him that lately. Right now, it’s all good. As long as he is footing the bills and handing me some spending money, I’m not gon’ press the issue,” I told Wes, waving my manicured hand around.

  He tightened his lips and then said, “Okay bitch. Jus’ be careful. You know how them angry black wives could be.” I stopped him from walking and wagged one of my bony fingers from side to side.

  “Uh, uh. She better take that shit up with him, not me.”

  Wes grabbed his heart as if stopping it from beating out of his chest. Then he dramatically put an arm to his forehead like he was going to faint.

  “I heard that friend. I bet she is a rich bitch with her own shit. A daddy’s girl probably and their kids go to a gah damn private school, huh?” he chuckled, wiggling his body.

  “Don’t know and don’t care,” I smacked. Wes gave me a closed mouth smile and we started walking again. “Anyway, how are things with you and Paul?”

  Wes was dark as midnight with pretty ass white teeth. He was a pretty ass dude who took care of himself. At six foot even he was tall and lanky, but the nigga could dress. He didn’t take into fashion though. Instead, Wes owned his own nail salon and always did my shit for the free; free because I’d take him on shopping sprees with me with Roman’s coins in return. His hair was in a shag, the front precisely edged up. Two diamond earrings were in his pierced ears. Seriously, you would never think Wes was gay. I mean, I’ve witnessed females approaching him trying to shoot their shot. It wasn’t until he spoke in that little girly ass voice…

  “We good. He out of town working with a client. I’m lonely and can’t wait until his ass gets back. That house is too damn big and I swear every little sound makes me grab my bat and wish a muthafucka would,” he grunted, causing me to snicker. He
was too damn big to be fuckin’ scared as he was. I’ve seen Wes handle niggas. I mean, he had to because they would talk down on him for being the way he was. Wes was far from a punk bitch and held his own. Now the niggas get laughed at for trying a punk, as they called Wes.

  Paul was an event planner. The best to ever do it. Celebrities call on him when they throw big ass parties because they know Paul is over the top when it comes to his passion. I’ve seen it firsthand at the parties thrown in Dallas that he invites Wes to, and of course my bestie invites me.

  “Stay with me tonight and we can sit up and watch LMN movies and cry ‘n shit, because you know how emotional your ass gets,” I joked. We found ourselves in Coach. My eye landed on a bag and I glided over to it.

  “Bitch, don’t do me,” Wes snickered as he followed me, knowing I told no lies. His ass bawled like a big ass baby watching sad movies. “But I guess we can do that.”

  I bought a bag and ended up buying Wes some Coach shoes. He didn’t agree with my lifestyle, but he definitely reaped the benefits. I had no job. Roman or whatever man I was fucking that was getting a big bag, took care of me. I’d been fucking Roman and only Roman for a while now so you couldn’t put me in the same category as a prostitute. You better not even spit that P word to me. I was classy as fuck and enjoyed to be fucked and to be able to afford nice fucking things. Okay, call me a classy prostitute. Whatever, I was getting money.

  My mom, Patrice, taught me at a young age that the shit between my legs was gold. I watched different men come in and out of our house damn near every night. My mom didn’t work, but she kept the bills paid, both of our hair done, food in the house, designer clothes on our bodies, a car with no note, and extra money. We didn’t stay in the projects. We were living in the suburbs with the white folks by the time I was thirteen. A lot of the men that did come over to spend time with my mama were white.

  When I turned eighteen, the night I graduated from high school, that was when I met my first trick. One day my mama had a man come over and he wasn’t alone. That was the first time a man had come over with a friend. I thought my mama was a freak, freak and was going to let two men bang her, but I was wrong. The other man was for me.

  He took my virginity.

  I cried and cried, but quickly sucked those tears up when I noticed the bills on my dresser. That man left me two bands. That night changed my life.

  Last year Roman took me to Dubai for my birthday. This year, I prayed he would do something else over the top because that was the first time I’d ever been out of the country. We fucked on his private jet, every day while in Dubai and on the way back. If I wasn’t on birth control after those last two abortions, I was sure to have came back to the states with a baby in me.

  I was so happy with my life. Not having to wake up and deal with a nine to five or graveyard shift. No kids. I was simply living life for me but waking up in a big ass king-sized bed by myself was lonely. Roman going home to his wife and kids and leaving me with only a wet ass was getting old. I wanted him to stay with me and cuddle or watch him play the game all night as if he was mine. But he wasn’t. He had never even given me an idea that he was going to leave his wife and of course I hadn’t met anyone in his family. Shit, I didn’t even know if Roman had brothers or sisters. We didn’t do much talking when we were around each other. It was just a lot of fucking. A lot.

  Me and Wes went from store to store until we couldn’t hold anymore bags. We stopped at the food court for lunch and now I was headed to my empty ass house. Wes had to stop at his house first and then would come over when he grabbed his overnight bag. Him being here would keep me from thinking about Roman and being deep in my feelings.

  ROMAN

  “How was your day,” Diah asked me, as I entered the kitchen. I pecked her on the cheek.

  “Busy,” I replied. I looked over the pots and pans to see what she was cooking. Fried chicken, green beans, mash potatoes, and corn bread. My wife made sure to have me a home cooked meal hot and ready on the stove at least four times a week. The other three days we would all go out to eat or to one of our parent’s house just so they could see their grandkids and give Diah a break from cooking.

  My wife had her own craft shop downtown Dallas. She made all kinds of custom shit like shirts, mugs, and more at Diah’s Designs. Diah made good money from her shop and could spend the money on herself and on the kids because I paid the bills – car notes, mortgages, car insurance…all of that. I was in the streets. Me and my brother Zeus hustled meth, bars, weed, crack, powder, and X pills in the streets of Dallas, Texas. Our weed was the most potent weed you could find and we made thousands off the hard shit. Diah hated the shit I did, but she also knew it took care of all the bills and our kids in the private school she begged for them to go to. Diah was bougie as fuck. Bad and bougie,

  She was naturally thick – no fake thick either. Diah had a slim frame and fat ass that you could see from the front. Her double Ds sat up perfectly and firmly. She had a golden skin complexion, perfect white smile, small nose, slanted light brown eyes, and downward-turned lips that were pretty and pink. Had my dick hard just from looking at them, but knowing I had my shit up in Perri’s pussy earlier, I couldn’t fuck my wife. I never double dipped in the same night. I was already fucking over my wife, and she didn’t need me to disrespect her even more by fucking her right after another bitch.

  I was a man and I loved to fuck. Some days and nights, Diah would be so tired, she would push a nigga away. Enters Perri who wouldn’t hesitate to satisfy my needs. I knew right then when she allowed me to fuck her in Reek’s bathroom that she was going to be my down ass bitch. My side chick. Our shit been going on for half a year now and so far I’d been able to keep her and Diah far away from each other. As long as I dropped dick in Perri, gave her ass some bread, and a little cuddling – her ass was good to go.

  Between Perri and Diah, I had some bad bitches. What drew me to Perri was the bright ass orange hair she wore. That was the only color that she would wear either in a bob, long and curly, short…and she would dress her ass off. She was short at 5’1, skin color of creamy peanut butter, a slim nose, full juicy ass lips and tight, almond eyes. She reminded me a lot like Diah. Maybe that’s why I fucked with her hard. Perri was slim and wasn’t as thick as my wife was, but her small ass was nice and round.

  “I’m going upstairs to shower before I eat,” I told Diah. I kissed her cheek once again and traipsed out of the kitchen. Our two-year-old son, Rome ran into my legs as he was running Sonic fast in the house. When he tried to start back, I grabbed the back of his shirt and then picked him up.

  “What we tell you about running in the house Rome?” I asked, raising a brow. He always had some smart shit to say.

  Rome was my fuckin’ twin. Same caramel skin, almond eyes…same everything. His ass was bad as fuck and gave his sisters the blues. He was always fucking with one of them. Me and Diah had three girls and one boy. Lizzy was seven, Danielle was six, Rome was two and Celeste was three months. Yeah, we just had a kid. I was putting kids in Diah and having Perri abort mine. Fucking Perri with a condom was out the window. I had to feel her walls man. The way it squeezed my dick…

  “Lizzy was after me,” Rome shrieked. I looked around.

  “Where is she at then?” I glared at him, and he smiled mischievously and shrugged. I placed him back on his bare feet and told his ass to stop running. You know this nigga took off running away from me? I had to shake my head and started back towards the bedroom because the food would be done any moment and a nigga was hungry.

  I stopped at Lizzy and Danielle’s room to check on them. Lizzy was playing with playdough, and Danielle was coloring. All three of our girls looked just like Diah as they should. They both looked up and waved at me before going back to doing what they had been doing.

  As soon as I reached the master bedroom, I closed the door and stripped out of my clothes and went straight to the bathroom to shower. I had showered back at Perri’s but that was a
quick one. At home, I thoroughly showered and took my time. When I was done, I stood in the mirror to check out my neck, chest, and back to make sure Perri ain’t leave any noticeable marks. I try my best to keep her hands away from my body. The only time I’d let her touch me was when she grabbed my ass to push me deeper into her pussy. Any other time, I’d have her face down and ass up.

  After drying off, I tossed on a white tee, briefs and basketball shorts, Sliding my feet into my Gucci house shoes, I plodded back downstairs. I was worn out and could use some sleep. After leaving Perri’s crib, I picked up some bread from the trap houses, and then met up with Zeus for a few minutes. A nigga was fucking tired. That good ass nut was what had me ready to fall asleep with my knuckles in my mouth.

  “Finally,” Danielle said, when I sat down at the table. “You took forever daddy.”

  “Sorry baby,” I apologized. “Daddy had to wash the funk off of him.”

  Rome squealed, “Daddy stinky,” while holding his nose. I lightly punched his chest and Diah who was holding and nursing Celeste, cocked her head at me. She hated when I hit Rome like that. Said I was too rough with him. I had to keep explaining to her that he was a damn boy. My son wasn’t a damn girl or was gon’ be soft.

  “He’s a boy, Diah. Does he look hurt to you?”

  Instead of responding to me, Diah rolled her eyes and said grace so we could start eating. The table was quiet while everyone ate except for the baby’s cries and Rome making weird ass noises. I had my phone on the table and it had vibrated. Wiping my hand on a napkin, I picked it up. It was picture mail from Perri. Playing it cool, I opened it and damn near dropped my phone when it was a picture of her fingers in her pussy. Clean, hairless pretty pink pussy.

  “Everything okay?”

  Diah’s voice brought me out of the trance I was in staring at the picture, and I quickly deleted it.