Free Single Husbands by HoneyB Page A

the Hilton Americas?” Brandon said, sounding better already. “I have a taste for
     one of their double pork chops.”
    “One better. Skyline Bar and Grill on the top floor,” Brian said.
    Michelle texted Brian.
BJ is crying for you. I know you’re busy but can you call your mother’s and talk to him for a minute?
    Brian texted back,
Of course, baby. I love you.
    “Excuse me, man, I gotta make a call right quick,” Brian said, exiting into the lobby. Not wanting to upset Brandon further,
     Brian omitted mentioning his wife or his son.
    Damn, that was fucked-up. Brandon’s wife seriously told him that shit. After all Brandon had done to give her a luxury home,
     top-of-the-line foreign automobiles, live-in nannies—whatever Brandon’s wife wanted, he bought her—and she still left him.
     That was seriously fucked-up. Would she rather have a man sitting up under her ass all day, or a husband out working his ass
     off for her and the kids? Enough about Brandon, Brian had better figure out if that Zahra chick was lying, telling the truth,
     or if she had intentions on stalking him. What difference did she make? Whatever she wanted from him, she could forget it.
    Brian dialed his mother’s number to speak with his son.
    His mother answered the phone immediately, then said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with BJ. He won’t stop crying.”
    “Put him on the phone, Ma,” Brian said, eyeing a woman at the margarita stand. Her titties were huge, waist small, complexion
     fair, and hair was long, just the way he liked. He imagined pouring that margarita all over her pussy hairs, teasing her nipples
     with the lime, then licking the tequila off her clit until she screamed his name, “Oh, Malik!”
    “Daddy, I miss you. Come get me,” BJ cried into the phone.
    “I miss you too, son, but Daddy is too far away from home to come and get you right now,” Brian said loud enough for the woman
     to hear. Slowly she stuck out her tongue, swiped a dash of salt into her mouth, then sipped her drink. She knew what she was
     doing. “Daddy is going to call you back right after my meeting tonight. Stop crying. Tell Grandma to let you stay up until
     I call you back.”
    “Okay, Daddy,” BJ said, sniffling. Brian felt the faint smile in his son’s voice when he said, “I love you, Daddy.”
    “I love you too, son. Daddy has got to go watch the game. I’ll call you later,” Brian said, ending their call.
    BJ was Brian’s biggest manipulator. He’d learned that if he talked his grandmother into calling his mother, Michelle would
     text Brian, and Brian would let him stay up late.
    Brian wasn’t hungry, but the beautiful woman occupying his eyes and his mind made his dick and his tongue thirsty for some
     juicy pussy. What the fuck was wrong with him? Nothing. Being sexually attracted to attractive light-skinned women was as
     natural as breathing.
    “Let me get that for you,” he said, curling her long red acrylic fingernails around her twenty-dollar bill. Her hand felt
     like satin. “Let me have a, um . . .” A hot dog was out of the question. He didn’t want a pretzel. All he really wanted was
     the woman in front of him, sitting naked on his face. “A Sprite,” he said.
    “Are you here with someone?” she asked.
    “No, but I do have to watch the game closely. Can I buy you a drink later tonight? After the game perhaps? Can I get your
     number?”
    Tucking her hair behind her ear, she casually asked, “What’s your name?”
    How rude of him. Glancing over his shoulder to make certain no one he knew was within ear range, he was so excited about fucking
     her later he hadn’t thought to tell her. “My name is Brother Malik.”
    Frowning, she asked, “Are you Muslim?”
    “I’ll answer that later,” he lied. What difference did it make if he were Muslim, married, or single? She should’ve asked
     if he was a serial killer or a con artist. That would’ve made sense. He wanted to fuck her. She obviously