Vexed Read online

  Vexed

  Honey

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Chapter Sixty-six

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Epilogue

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, N.Y.-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Vexed Copyright © 2020 Honey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-8931-9606-3

  eISBN 13: 978-1-893196-08-7

  eISBN 10: 1-893196-08-9

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Dedication

  Solomon III, this one is for you, baby. Mommy did again just for you. I love you more than I love myself. I also dedicate this book to my parents, The Honorable Judge and Mrs. William C. “Billy” Randall. I am so blessed to have you for parents. Finally, this book is dedicated to the memory of my late aunt, Jacquelyn Elaine Simmons. I miss you so much, Aunt Jackie.

  Acknowledgements

  Man, I have so many people to thank, but God, the author and finisher of my faith, is first. Thank You, Father, for blessing me with the gifts of creating writing and storytelling. Without You, I would be nothing. Thanks, SB3, for always supporting Mommy, believing in me, and supporting me. You learned very early what I do for a living and how much time it takes for me to crank out a page turner and now you understand my creative process. I love you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you, Mama and Daddy, for being my rock from birth until this very moment. I love you endlessly. Thanks so much to Solomon Junior, my husband of 15 years. No marriage is perfect, but we make ours work. Thank you for holding me down so I can write full-time and take care of our son. I love you with all my heart. A shout out to my siblings, Dawn, Lance, Shirley, and Nikki. We’re the Fab 5 until death, and I’m just glad to be #3, the middle man. Dawn and Nikki, I must show you extra love because you two play a very important part in my writing career. I couldn’t do what I do without you girls. Thanks! Thank you to the members of the Randall, Fults, and Berewa families everywhere for your unwavering love and support. God bless each of you. To my screen team: Dawn Randall-Keitt, Nikki T. Randall, Ashley Cason, Deborah Anne Blash, Katanga Blash-Foster, Christan May Crear, Valentia Walker, Cherell River, and Linda Thomas Walker, I say thanks, I love you, and I appreciate y’all. I consider you group of ladies my co-authors. I am grateful to have the BEST agent on the planet. Thank you, N’Tyse, for all you do for me. You’re one of my sheroes. Thank you, Robert White, for being my book husband. Your support means everything. Diane Rembert, you rock, girl! Thanks for your support. Thank you Carl Weber and you lovely wife Martha Weber for accepting me into the Urban Books family. Finally, and most important of all, I thank my fans for purchasing my books and telling their reading buddies about my work! God bless all of you. Let’s stay in touch. Hit me up anytime at threefacesofme. com, [email protected], and facebook.com/hon-eywrites. God bless you!

  Chapter One

  Jill rolled her round hips from left to right slowly, perfectly, and seductively to the funky rhythm of the reggae classic. She looked content and full of life on top of the bar, wiggling her tiny, curvaceous body with the smoothness of a ribbon floating in the wind. Tipsy from too much rum, she giggled and lifted her hands high above her head while sweat trickled down her milk chocolate face and on further to her neck. It was apparent to all who saw her that Jill was braless, as her dark, hardened nipples pushed against the white cotton fabric of her tank top. Just about every brother in the crowded nightclub was mesmerized by her raw beauty and fluid moves, but Jill only had eyes for Jay. Fighting a growing erection with a healthy dose of strong coconut-flavored Jamaican rum and dwindling physical restraint, Zach closed his eyes and listened to Bob Marley’s warning. He knew from experience it was nothing but the truth.

  “No woman, no cry!” the late reggae legend belted out over the drone of loud voices, foot stomping, and handclaps.

  “A lucky son of a bitch,” Zach mumbled into his drink, now feeling the buzz from the alcohol.

  Jay was just that, lucky as hell. Jill was sweet, sexy, and passionate. She loved hard and without limits. But she was young and innocent too. The poor girl was unaware of her real worth. And that was exactly how Jay wanted to keep her.

  Jill was a trophy, a mere possession, a kept woman. She had been trained, tamed, and molded by Jay to near perfection. The twenty-three-year-old girl from the rough streets of Kingston had been handpicked to satisfy Jay’s every physical and emotional need. And she was supposed to help erase the memories of Venus back home in Atlanta and the heartbreak she had caused.

  The crowd roared when Jill hopped off the bar and did a shimmy in the middle of the floor. Her denim miniskirt had crawled high above her well-toned thighs, almost revealing her pussy. Jay’s loose and cocky lips had bragged on co
untless occasions to Zach that nestled between Jill’s thighs was a pussy that no other human being on earth had ever touched, tasted, or entered before they’d met. It should’ve been an honor, but to Jay, it was more like a right or an entitlement, an achievement even.

  The screams and applause swelled, and Zach looked up in time to see Jill gyrating in slow motion in the direction of the table he’d shared with Jay earlier. She had a mysterious glint in her eyes, and her smile was too damn sexy. Jill drew closer and began to curl her index finger at Zach, begging him to join her in a dance.

  “Who me?” he asked, looking around. “Nah, baby, Zach has had one too many. Where is Jay?”

  Jill tugged Zach’s arm, and he pressed his tall, muscular frame firmly in the chair and refused to move. He shook his head, embarrassed that every eye in the club was now on him. The faces of jealous men who wished they were him, combined with the loud claps and cheers, made Zach want to spit and curse. Before he could jump up and run away to safety, Jill straddled him and began a slow grind on his crotch. The bulge in his pants met her wet core, with only the denim fabric of his shorts separating them. Jill did not wear panties. That was another tidbit Jay often boasted about. Zach could smell the sweetness of Jill’s feminine center, and it intensified his high.

  * * *

  Jay slid back inside the club after a stroll with some busty chick sporting a headful of blond micro braids. Standing at the entrance, enjoying Jill’s little show, Jay laughed and clapped along with the rest of the club patrons, fully aroused. She witnessed Zach panic when he noticed her, younger sibling, watching the public lap dance Jill was giving him. Jay gave him the okay signal with a flimsy wave of the hand and cheered and howled along with everyone else. Apparently, by instinct, Jill sensed Zach’s relief when the song ended and she eased off his lap, to another eruption of applause and hoots.

  Jay strolled over. “Did you enjoy yourself, big bro?” she asked and took a seat. She pulled Jill onto her lap and rubbed her smooth, thighs that were sweaty from dancing.

  “It was fun, I guess. Where did you go? I think that dance was meant for you.” Zach wiped the perspiration from his face with his palm.

  “I had to make a phone call, check on a problem at the resort.”

  Jill smiled and kissed Jay on her lips. “I want to dance, Jay. I want to dance!” She stood and raised her arms in the air and rotated her hips provocatively.

  Jay smacked Jill’s tight, round ass playfully as her eyes swept around the club. It was a good night for their friend Desmond, the owner of this popular establishment, Caribbean Cove. It was standing room only, and there was a long, curving line of folks outside, hoping to get in. Jay spotted dozens of attractive women, mostly visitors to the island, dancing and flirting with men for drinks. Her eyes fell on Charlotte, a woman she spent time with every once in a while. She was sitting at a table alone in a dark corner of the club, smoking a brown-label cigarette. Jay licked her lips when Charlotte leaned forward and exposed her ample cleavage, which was spilling over the low neckline of her red, strapless top.

  “Jay, I want to dance, baby,” Jill whined.

  “Zach, will you please dance with her? I need to call the resort again. I can’t hear a damn thing in here. I’m gonna go in Desmond’s office. I’ll be right back.”

  Once again, Jay left Zach and Jill alone while she went on a kitty-cat call. It was just her lustful nature. Jayla Simone King loved women, and she had as far back as Zach could remember. Despite their five-year age difference, the King siblings had grown up very close. Zach had realized very early on that there was something unique about his little sister and how she interacted with other females. As beautiful as Jay had been as a young girl, she’d never fully embraced the significance or advantages of her looks. Back then, she’d preferred to admire Zach’s girlfriends or the gorgeous models and entertainers she saw on television.

  By the time she hit puberty, a time when she especially felt the painful absence of their mother, Jay had confided in Zach that she was a lesbian with a healthy sexual appetite. He’d kept that secret, not knowing exactly what to do with it, other than hide it in the far recesses of his young mind. He’d hoped she would somehow outgrow what he had thought was an experimental phase. It had thrown their aunt, Jackie, for a loop when Jay had marched into the house one evening after cheerleading practice and had announced she was gay and proud of it. The heartbroken woman hadn’t been able to understand how a girl so gorgeous and shapely could desire the affections of another girl. Of course, since then, she’d learned it had nothing to do with the way you looked, how you were raised, or where you came from. It was a matter of the heart, and Aunt Jackie had ultimately accepted that and loved Jay more than life.

  Jill’s subtle tug on Zach’s arm snatched him from the past just as he watched Jay disappear behind Desmond’s closed office door with some voluptuous redbone.

  “Dance with me, Zachary,” he heard Jill say with her rich, singsong Jamaican accent.

  Zach did not want to dance with Jill. He didn’t even want to be close to her. She was Jay’s lover, and the physical attraction he had for her was taboo. The more time they spent together, the stronger and more overwhelming his attraction became. Since Zach had been in Montego Bay on vacation, he had been forced to spend the majority of his time with Jill while Jay had worked as the executive manager of the luxurious Island Paradise Resort. Oftentimes, Jay had pretended to work, though she’d really been chasing skirts.

  Refusing to be ignored, Jill slithered her body between the table and the chair Zach occupied, and wiggled her hips before him, as if she dared him to take her. When she lifted her leg to straddle him again, he stood to his full six-foot, two-inch stature. His rigidness pressed against her softness. The torture of the contact caused Zach’s breathing to become labored and choppy. He placed his arm loosely around Jill’s waist and led her out onto the jam-packed dance floor.

  * * *

  “Wake up, party animal!” Jay hit Zach softly over the head with a pillow. “You danced till the wee hours of the morning. I’ve never known you to do that.”

  Zach rolled over in the bed and peered at Jay with one eye and then drew the covers over his head. He was tired. He and Jill had danced to song after song while waiting on Jay to complete her business inside Desmond’s office. She must have been in there with the buxom high-yellow chick for two hours before she emerged secretively and gave her a ride home in her black BMW 528i. By the time Jay had gotten back to Caribbean Cove, Zach had been exhausted, but Jill had still been bouncing off the walls with the energy of a young child.

  “Get up, Zach! I have two important meetings today.” Jay looked at her gold Movado watch. “Jill needs to go to Kingston to check on her little brother. He’s been acting out in school. I never let her go there alone. Her family is a pack of hungry vultures. I want you to make the trip across the terrain with her. Roy, one of the resort’s drivers, will take you.”

  “Jill is an adult, Jay. She doesn’t need a chaperone. She’s going home to spend time with her family. Why do you want me to tag along?”

  Jay sat on the bed and snatched the covers from Zach’s head. He looked into her pretty face, which was set in a hard expression. Everyone said she looked like Jada Pinkett Smith. He admired her flawless caramel complexion, which was exactly like his, and waited for her spiel. Whatever Jay was about to say was serious. Zach knew that by the flash in her eyes and the way she was pursing her pouty lips.

  “Zach, those people wanna suck me dry. They think I’m a wealthy American. They see the way Jill dresses, how well she lives and speaks. She gives her mother money for her siblings every month, but they always want more. They frown on our relationship, but their greedy hands want my damn money. Go with her for me. Make sure they don’t get inside her head or my bank account. Will you?”

  Chapter Two

  On the bumpy ride to Kingston, Jill talked nonstop about her brothers and her baby sister. In between tales of her family, of
whom she spoke affectionately, she pointed out the amazing sights of her country. Zach loved the way her dark brown eyes twinkled whenever she laughed. She had a dazzling smile that was infectious. Her short natural Afro accentuated her high cheekbones. Jill had the face and body of a model. Back home in the States, she could easily be the next Iman or Alek Wek, Zach thought.

  “Jillian! Jillian! Jillian!” shouted a shirtless little boy in green, tattered shorts when the dusty blue Jeep Wrangler rolled to a halt in front of the small wooden house.

  To Zach, the kid appeared to be around the same age as Nahima. A few chickens clucked and scattered about the yard, and a skinny dog barked and ran in circles.

  “Come,” Jill said to Zach. “This is my family’s home.”

  Zach’s eyes wandered over to the rickety screen door in desperate need of repair. Behind it stood a woman who looked like a heavier, more mature version of Jill. She was holding a baby in her arms. Zach exited the SUV and was met by the dry, scorching heat of the sun. Baskets, boxes, and crates, along with an overflowing trash can, cluttered the unbalanced porch. Jill trotted up the few wobbly wooden steps with a great big smile on her face. The woman behind the screen door maintained an unreadable expression. The little boy hugged Jill around her legs and waved shyly to Zach.

  “Mommy, how are you?” Jill asked and pulled the door handle. “It’s so good to see you.” She stepped over the threshold, hugged her mother, and kissed the baby in her arms on her tiny face. “Meet my friend, Zachary.”

  The woman smiled at Zach, displaying the decaying remains of a once lovely smile. “Hello, Zachary. I am Faye. Welcome to my home.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Faye.” Zach shook her hand.

  Jill followed her mother deeper into the house, with Zach close behind her. The whir of a space fan blowing in the windowsill of the sitting room was loud, but the fan was useless. It did nothing to cool the dim room. Every wall and table, Zach noted, was filled with pictures of little boys in school uniforms. Jill sat on the yellow vinyl sofa, draped with dingy, white crocheted doilies, and Zach joined her. There was an imposing picture of Jesus Christ on the wall opposite the sofa. Underneath it was a picture of Bob Marley and one of Harry Belafonte, two of Jamaica’s most famous native sons.