Excerpt
1 Isaiah

I was running from the devil as fast as I could. My hair raced in the opposite direction, my feet floated like raging currents of an ocean. Desperate, petrified, jittery, strapped—something familiar snatched me back.
“Isaiah.” She loved calling my name with the sweetest voice I’ve ever known. My ears attentively waited for the next words she’d release.

Caressing my hair that stretched to my shoulders, she rendered me helpless. Her femininity stifled my flow and tackled me to the ground. I knew from the moment we met, something just wasn’t right, yet I went with my loins acting in place of my brain.

Her beauty slapped me every time I laid eyes upon her. Pimp slaps to my face. Karate kicks to my heart. She presented herself as every woman, every woman indeed.

Her eyelashes fluttered the sweet song of seduction. Her lips pouted the hymn of fornication. And the rest of her wanted me to partake of the forbidden fruit.

Movies, dinner, nightcaps, intercourse—her marathon tested my stamina.

I never had a chance. Our bodies intertwined as one recreating the effects of a Twizzler stick. She moaned my name. I groaned hers, “Justine.”

She grabbed my head in the heat of passion and marked her territory with scratches on my back. I winced a little, but didn’t want to disturb the groove. She’s my love, my one and only. The woman I wanted to marry one day, the woman I wanted to carry my seed.

The motion of her hips stirred up my desire, enticed my heart, and quenched my thirst. Her beautiful hazel eyes lured me in. Excuse me, her beautiful hazel contacts lured me in. She presented me with every quality I asked for in a mate. Perfection should have been her name.

I met this woman at a restaurant while I was having a Boys Night Out with my fellas. She was wearing an orange halter-top-tie-thing with some jeans that accentuated her booming system. Her toes, oh her toes...I’m a sucker for pedicures. Her hair was in an up do that swung in opposite directions when she walked. She has strikingly smooth, ebony skin tone that should have been featured in the latest issue of Jet magazine. She should have been a beauty of the week—captivating smile, alluring fragrance, reputable intelligence, and justifiable conceitedness.

The single candle lit above our heads represented the year we had been together and the pictures on the wall displayed our loyalty to one another. At least it should have.

I peered up at her, remembering what my best friend had told me and suddenly my desire for her left. The feeling of insecurity injected a glacier into my heart, but I still loved her. She had my soul, I prayed that I had hers yet envisioning her with another man killed my appetite.

I rolled over to my side of the bed, yanking the sheets up to my waist.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked, placing a petite palm on my left shoulder.

I turned around to answer, almost wanting to ask her if it were true. The thoughts were driving me crazy, but I had to know. I had to know if the woman I had been idolizing for the past year was creeping behind my back.

“Baby, is there something wrong?” she repeated as her mesmerizing eyes put me right back in her trance.

She had me. I was on lock down. I tried to fight my way out, but she always managed to wrestle me to the mat. One, two, three… the championship was her victory—I lost. I think I’ve lost more than I bargained.