Lying Lips Read online

  “Cum for me,” Asanti demanded.

  He talked dirty to me. Almost vulgar. Nearly pornographic. I liked it. Thoroughly enjoyed it. He made me cum. Hard. And wild. I listened intently as he came too.

  “Did you enjoy that?” I heard him asking me when I could finally focus again.

  “Yes, “I heard myself saying.

  “Good,” came his reply. “That should hold you up until later when I get out of my meeting and call you back.”

  I smiled, looking forward to it. To him. And to creaming again.

  This situation was getting crazy.

  And I was becoming addicted.

  I walked through the airport as if in a dream as I went to retrieve my luggage. I had changed my flight to leave a day earlier than I originally planned so no one was expecting me just yet. Everyone would be surprised to see me though. I began to feel deathly ill when I thought of how they would feel if they knew that I had gotten married in the four short weeks that I was gone. What would they think? Probably that I had lost my mind. I know I felt as though I did.

  Hopping into the cab that would take me home made me more nervous than ever. I was sweating profusely. How could I have been so stupid and irresponsible and selfish as to marry someone that I had only known for a few hours? Had I lost my mind? Being away from Asanti allowed me the ability to think straight. To see things more clearly. And I really felt as though I had gone temporarily insane. Otherwise, how could I have done what I did? No other answer was suitable.

  As I rode through the city that I loved with a vengeance, the tears rolled down my face. I had made a commitment to him. A complete stranger. How the hell was I going to deal with that? How could I have done that? Through a choked up voice I asked the cab driver to stop around the corner from the home that I had lived in more than twenty years. I couldn’t bear to ride up to the door just yet.

  When the driver pulled over to the side of the street, I handed him a hundred dollar bill. Forty-five dollars more than what was owed to him. As I was leaving, Asanti had placed a wad of money in my hand telling me that no wife of his would ever leave home broke. His definition of broke was anything less than two grand on hand at any given moment. And that didn’t include the credit card with the practically unlimited funds.

  The hundred I shelled out barely dented my cash flow. I grabbed my own belongings from the trunk, telling the cab driver that I needed no help in doing so.Afterwards, I stood there watching him pull away when the trunk was shut.

  Then I walked.

  Around the corner.

  Up the block.

  And past my house.

  And around the corner again.

  And again.

  And again.

  For over an hour.

  Until finally my knees were too weak to carry me anymore and I had to go home and face my demons.

  I was a nervous wreck.

  A tortured soul.

  On the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  But I couldn’t run forever.

  As I neared my front door, I pulled my keys out of my pocket. My hands trembled violently. My breathing barely existed. I inserted the keys and turned as slowly as I could. The door opened. And there they were.

  The Bentencourt’s.

  My family.

  Amaya Bentencourt, my fifteen year old daughter.

  Armani Bentencourt, my sixteen year old son.

  Allegra Bentencourt, my seventeen year old daughter.

  And Ashton Bentencourt. My fifty year old. My baby. My soul mate. My husband of the last twenty five years.

  I, forty-five year old London Legaci Carmichael Bentencourt, was finally home.

  “Mommyyyy!” My baby girl Amaya immediately ran to me. She was obviously surprised to see me standing there.

  “Mom!” My other two kids ran up to me and enclosed me in their loving embraces.

  They held on to me for dear life. I burst into tears. For five full minutes I cried like a baby. I thought I would never stop. At first everyone thought it was tears of joy, but when my whimpers turned to anguished sobs, they all knew better.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?” Armani was quick to ask me. “Are you okay?”

  My little boy who was rapidly becoming a man was the first to show concern. But he was swiftly followed by his siblings.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Allegra and Amaya asked in unison as they had been doing since they were kids.

  “Honey?” Ashton called out from his patiently waiting position not even five feet away.

  I couldn’t look at Ashton. My husband. My first husband. My real husband.

  I cried harder. I couldn’t speak. My entire body shook. Ashton grew concerned and stepped in.

  “Kids would you please give your mother and I a few minutes alone?” The concern was extremely evident on his face.

  “Love you, Mom,” I heard Allegra say sadly as my children left their father and me alone.

  My husband grabbed me by my violently shaking shoulders and took me into his office. He sat me in the chaise lounger that I had purchased for him, then went to the door and closed it. In a matter of seconds he was seated beside me, holding me in his arms. I sobbed like an infant for more than ten minutes.

  When I seemed calm enough to speak, Ashton lifted my chin until I was looking into his beautiful, bedroom eyes. He searched my face for an answer. No words needed to be spoken between us, we knew one another. Very well. By looking at me he could tell I was able and ready to speak. By looking at me him I knew that he was ready for answers.

  I went first.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I began carefully. “I just missed you guys so much.”

  “Hmm,” was all he uttered as he continued to search my eyes for more. He knew there was more.

  “I had a really rough trip this time,” I began lying. “Some of the stories I’m covering are beginning to take their toll on me.” I stood up needing to put distance between he and I. There was no way I could lie to him while sitting less than a foot from him. While he was touching me. “I’m covering a piece for the Washington Times about a woman who lost her husband and kids to a violent crime and the piece is really getting to me, Ashton.” I told him. The lie seemed to flow from me like water flowed from Niagara Falls. “The woman had three children just like me. She was in her mid-forties just like me. Her husband was fifty, just like mine,” I looked over at him and the tears started to flow again.

  The part about covering that piece was true. The woman, the kids, the husband, everything was true. The way that it supposedly touched me was a lie. But I needed to tell my husband something that would explain my weird behavior. From the look in his eyes he was buying it. Why wouldn’t he? After all, I had never lied to him before.

  “London, why did you barely contact me or the kids in the last three weeks?” He wanted to know.

  Because I was caught up in my new husband, I dared not say. Ashton kept staring at me. I was nervous and fidgety but I had to say something. Anything that he would believe. Anything other than the truth.

  “I couldn’t stand the thought of talking to you guys while writing that piece. It hurt me too much to be away from you so I did the cowardly thing. I avoided you as much as possible.” I dared to look in his eyes, afraid of what I might find there. What if it was disbelief? Then what? How would I explain why I lied? One lie would lead to more. And more.

  But I had to look at him. Had to see what was there. Braving up, I focused my teary eyes on Ashton. He believed me. I breathed a sigh of relief. The lies continued. “The thought of losing you guys really began to take a toll on me. To the point where talking to you became too painful. I needed to see you. To hug you. To express my love for you. A phone call just wouldn’t do. It hurt too much the few times I did call you.”

  I allowed the tears to fall down my face. They were lies as well.

  Ashton stood and walked over to the window in front of which I was standing. He embraced me. Looked me deeply in my eyes. “London,
I love you. The kids love you. We aren’t going anywhere. And we aren’t letting you go anywhere either.”

  His statement was simple. To the point. It made me cry. This time the tears were real.

  Ashton gathered my sobbing form into his arms yet again and held me. He let me cry. Allowed me to get it out of my system. Then when I was all cried out, he took me into the kitchen where he and the kids happily made me a beautiful dinner.

  As we ate together as a family I looked around the table listening intently, being caught up on all of the events that I had missed out on in the last month. I was truly blessed. I was glad to be home. This was where I really belonged. With my real family. In my real home. I seriously wondered what I was going to do to make things right.

  “To the best mom in the world!” Amaya exclaimed as we had our family dinner toast.

  Everyone clinked their glasses together. My tears started again.

  My family loved me, I realized. Really loved me, I understood for the first time. Not that I didn’t know it before. I did. I just never fully appreciated it the way I did at that moment. The way I appreciated it when faced with the possibility of losing them through my own sheer stupidity if they ever found out.

  And I loved them too.

  But would they continue to feel that way if they knew how much I had betrayed them? Would they still love me if they knew that I was selfish enough to marry another man while still committed to them?

  Their love, which I seemed to have taken for granted mere weeks ago, seemed so strong now. But would it hold up if my treacherous actions were revealed? I truly doubted it and that made me cry even harder. I didn’t want to lose my family. My real family. The only family I’d ever known. I had to find a way to make Asanti and this newfound craziness of mine go away.

  But how?

  Only time would tell me that.

  Time and a whole lot of tears.

  Chapter 6

  It was ten p.m. when Ashton and I finally had our nightly Bible study and prayer and then climbed into bed. I was exhausted. He was worried beyond measure. I knew that I needed to get it together, but it was hard when faced with the depth of my betrayal.

  What happened to me? What was wrong with me? How had Asanti infiltrated me, my life, and my personal space enough to make me hurt those I loved? Enough to make me betray the marriage vows I made before the God I served? And yet, in some sick and twisted way, I loved Asanti too. Couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to help it. I had officially lost my mind.

  I sighed deeply as I thought of how things used to be. Only a month ago none of that was going on in my life. I sighed again as if that would release it, the craziness, and make it all go away. As if that would take me back in time to thirty days prior to the one I now existed in.

  I longed for normalcy again. For the life I shared with Ashton and the kids. To be the good Christian woman I had been all those years. I needed to be normal again. To feel normal. To act normal. I needed my life to be back the way it was. Back to where Asanti didn’t exist. Back to where everything was good and there was no need to try and make it better.

  I looked over to my beautiful husband Ashton and was surprised to find that he was looking at me. Desperate to make things right, I reached for him. And he for me.

  At first I only intended to hug him and have him hold me forever. Just until I felt a little normal again. But something in his touch catapulted me back in time to where I wanted to be. To where none of the madness that I created existed. His touch was familiar. Comfortable. I felt safe. Secure. Loved. Very nostalgic.

  The moment in time I longed for was at hand. At that instant I was willing to give anything, everything to hold that feeling near to me. So I did what I could to savor the feeling. To dwell in it.

  “Make love to me, Ashton,” I practically begged him as I clawed at his night clothes. “Show me why I love you so much.” I kissed him deeply.

  That’s all it took.

  My husband expertly slipped his masculine body atop mine. I grabbed at him like a woman possessed. I needed him. Ashton. Not Asanti.

  I became wild with panic. I had to feel him in me. Filling me. Erasing my memory. The foolishness. The mistakes I had so recently made. I was almost fighting him in my attempt to expunge what I had done. Slowly, ever so slowly, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the mattress until I could no longer move. Then leisurely, at a snails’ pace, he lowered his lips to mine in a kiss so sensual that I felt my skin burning beneath him. My heart slowed, pounded.

  The familiar felt so damn good.

  “I love you, London,” he whispered as he licked his way down my neck to my chest while his hands had me naked in what seemed to be the blink of an eye. “I always will.”

  “I love you too, Ashton,” I moaned when he entered me. “Always will.”

  His thrusts were slow. Filling and complete.

  He held my hands as he took me to that place that I could only go with him. Gently, easily, he took me. And I tried to let go. Tried to release the past. Discharge my mistakes. But I couldn’t. Neither could I let go of Ashton. I clung to him greedily, taking all that I could. He watched me. Read me. Knew what I needed and gave it to me. Slow thrusts. His manhood touching, filling, every part of my womanhood.

  I spread my legs. Opened myself to him.

  Ashton lowered his body fully onto mine. I loved the feel of his weight there. Wrapped myself around it. Tried to get lost in it. In him. He kissed my neck gently. Whispered sweet nothings in my ear.

  “Mmmmmm,” I moaned softly.

  “Let it go, baby,” he told me. “Whatever has you, London, let it go.”

  I tried, but couldn’t.

  He sealed my core with himself. Delved my center as if in search of that button that would free me.

  Then he found it. And pushed it.

  Then I did it. I let go.

  I let go of everything. Everything. Except Ashton.

  As he held my hands above our heads and looked in my eyes, he loved me tenderly. Loved me true. Easy. Smooth. There was no rush. No recklessness. I let it go. Forgot about it. Relaxed. And gave in.

  Then my phone vibrated.

  The phone Asanti bought me.

  And it all came rushing back.

  Tears flowed down the sides of my face as I looked up at Ashton and accepted what I had done to him. Accepted what he didn’t yet know. The phone vibrated again. Angry vibrations it seemed. He, Ashton, the love of my life, made love to me beautifully and I had hurt him tremendously.

  But that wasn’t a part of his psyche yet.

  He was still safe.

  As of yet unharmed.

  More angry vibrations from Asanti. More sorry tears from me. Ignorance was bliss. I wanted that bliss. Ashton kissed the tears that fell from my eyes away. I raised my hips and gyrated on him. Took him deep into me.

  The phone buzzed loudly.

  I rolled my hips.

  Slow.

  And easy.

  More buzzing.

  He, Ashton, propelled forward.

  Hungrily. Almost desperately.

  Filling me completely.

  “Aaaaooooohhhh,” I moaned. “Babyyyy,” I cried out lovingly. Drowning out the sound of the constant ringing of the phone. And for a second it stopped.

  “I love you,” he confessed.

  “And I you,” I expressed.

  He thrust once more.

  “Oaaaahhhhh,” I sang in his ear.

  The phone vibrated again.

  “London,” he called my name simply.

  Plunged harder this time.

  Wholly.

  Leaving no part of him out of the act.

  I shivered.

  He shook.

  And together we fell.

  Over the cliff.

  And into a place where we remembered nothing and no one.

  But each other.

  Asanti let the phone ring for another two hours.

  It was three o’clock in the morning when t
he vibrations started again. The hard buzzing of that cell phone that Asanti gave me pulled me from my beautiful slumber. Why was he calling at this hour? Deciding to let it ring, I snuggled closer to my husband and hoped that Ashton didn’t hear the buzzing.

  Then it stopped.

  And started again.

  This time the vibrations sounded more insistent, almost as if Asanti was becoming aggravated at being put off in favor of sleep. But he wasn’t being put off in favor of sleep. He was being put off because I was still not yet ready to deal with him. With us. So I clung to my husband. The one I was currently with.

  “Someone really wants to talk to you,” Ashton said and shocked me more than I cared to admit.

  I thought he was asleep. I was so caught up in ignoring Asanti that I hadn’t realized he could hear the phone as well.

  “I really don’t want to talk to them.”

  “Who is it?” He asked me casually, the same way he had been doing since we’d met.

  “My job,” I lied.

  “Since when do you put your phone on vibrate? And since when do you not want to talk to your boss?” His questions were innocent. A husband talking to his wife. A husband unaware of his wife’s extreme betrayal.

  “Since I’ve come to realize just how much I love my family and want to be with them right now.”

  He said nothing more. Simply reached out and held my hand while playing with my wedding ring. Immediate guilt swamped me. Him playing with my ring gripped me. I was a married woman. Married to two men. My betrayal knew no boundaries.

  When the vibrating continued for twenty minutes longer than what I could take, I wanted to forget again. So I moved closer to Ashton. Reached for him. And he took me again. Took me again to where I was safe. And memory free. And for the second time that night, I made love to my real, true husband. Keeping us wrapped in the comforting warmth of bliss. While on the other side of the world my husband, the other one, was wrapped in a blanket of worry, confusion, and slow building rage.

  The next morning when I woke I was not yet ready to deal with the present. I wanted to linger in the past a little while longer so I avoided the phone. The phone Asanti bought for me. I knew that if I picked it up I would be tempted to answer it when it rang again. I would be tempted to check the multiple messages that I was sure he had left. I couldn’t handle that reality just yet so I ignored it. Left it in my purse unchecked and went on with my day. It felt good to be drama free and at peace again.