Free Power Couple by Allison Hobbs

moment, merely saying what he wanted to hear. Feeling good, I threw the pussy at him, humping and working as hard as he was—desperately trying to get there. Then I felt it. A sensation akin to hot lava gushing through my bloodstream. “Oh, Mav; oh, baby!”
    â€œYou ready to cum on this big dick, Cori?”
    â€œMmm-hmm,” I whimpered, almost there.
    â€œIs your pussy juice gonna run down my dick and drench my balls?”
    My husband had such a filthy mind and he loved talking dirty, but I was so close to the finish line, I was no longer capable of speaking coherently. I could only grunt out responses.
    â€œI told Katya I was going to let her lick your cum off my nuts. Are you good with that, babe?”
    Needing to concentrate on my orgasm, I ignored his question.
    â€œIs it okay if Katya comes back over?”
    Maverick could be annoyingly persistent, and for the sole purpose of shutting him up, I uttered in frustration, “Yeah, okay.”
    Finally, I felt explosives beginning to detonate, and an incredibly intense orgasm skyrocketed through me. “Yes. Mmm. Oh, God, yes!” I screamed the words.
    Then Maverick let go. He’d been holding back, waiting for me. At the moment of his climax, he exclaimed, “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of both you and Katya tonight.”
    Half-crazy from coming, I joined in, ranting and raving about how good he was going to fuck me and his whore. But it was only talk. I didn’t mean it. Maverick had to be out of his mind if he believed I’d ever allow that Russian bitch to get back in my bed, again!

CHAPTER 8
    I arrived on the set an hour and a half late, and Josh was having a fit over having to film out of sequence for the second day in a row.
    â€œWe need you on the set, like, now, Cori,” he said with a neck roll.
    That bastard had tried it! I couldn’t believe Josh had the audacity to bark at me in front of the crew. For his sake, he needed to be grateful that the kids were off-set and hadn’t witnessed him disrespecting me. If they had been around, it was highly likely that I would have come out of my nigger bag and cursed him out the way Grandma Eula Mae used to curse out her daughters and grandchildren after she started getting senile.
    Mistaking her twin daughters (my mom and my Aunt Chloe) for the hoes that used to work for her back in the day, Grandma Eula Mae would launch into shocking diatribes laced with generous amounts of foul language whenever my mom or Aunt Chloe gently tried to coerce her away from the stove. She was constantly setting off the smoke detector, but that didn’t stop her from standing in front of the stove for hours on end cooking up a bunch of bullshit. It was such a pity that she’d lost her amazing cooking skills with the onset of dementia. But you couldn’t tell her that she wasn’t still the best cook in Philadelphia.
    Once when my mom and aunt attempted to escort Grandma Eula Mae out of the kitchen, she yanked away from them and grabbed a huge skillet and began her rant:
    â€œIf you black-ass, tar-baby bitches don’t get your stank, cum-dribbling coochie holes out of my kitchen and get back upstairs, you’d better. Instead of flapping your thick liver-lips at me, you need to be wrapping them around the dicks of those peckerwoods that paid good money for your services. Now, get the hell out of my muthafuckin’ kitchen before I knock some sense into your nappy heads with this here skillet! Get on up those stairs and cater to my customers.”
    Then she mumbled under her breath, “You heifers need to be grateful that I don’t allow nigga men with their big ol’ horse dicks inside my establishment. If I let nigga men get ahold of you, your pussy holes would be stretched out of shape and not worth a plug nickel.”
    Startled, my cousins and I would giggle uncomfortably whenever Grandma Eula Mae forgot she was our grandmother and lapsed into