Where Love is Found Read online

  WHERE LOVE IS FOUND

  Where Love is Found

  Kindle Version

  Copyright 2019 Tiya Rayne

  Published by Tiya Rayne

  Cover Art by Olivia Pro Designs

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  WARNING: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult content. It may be considered offensive to some readers.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  About Tiya Rayne

  Other books by Tiya Rayne

  Connect with Tiya Rayne

  To Harriett Ann, my real life Grams. And to the real Duck, I hope you find your Jackson.

  One

  “Ooh, baby! This pussy is so good,” Cliff moaned as he buried his face back between my legs.

  He wasn’t telling me something that I didn’t already know. My pussy was damn good. And I’m not being cocky or conceited when I say that. Every woman should feel the same way. If you don’t, you’re not living at your full potential.

  Between every woman’s thighs is the source of all power. It brings life into the world. Every person you have ever met has gone through a pussy at some point in their life, either through ejaculation, artificial insemination, or birth. Hell, men have started wars for what’s between a woman’s legs. They murder, go broke, and leave their wife and kids for the right pussy.

  So, I didn’t feel like a bitch when I replied, “It sure is.”

  I ran my hands over Cliff’s low-cut waves.

  Damn, he could clean a coochie out. Cliff’s tongue game was top rated, which was why I kept him in my rotation.

  Another life tip: every woman should have three types of men in her rotation. Number one, a good coochie eater. I’m talking about a man that will go down on you at the drop of a dime. He will feast on your goodness like it is the bread of life. You need someone that can suck your soul out, have your toes curled, and have you speaking in foreign languages. There is nothing better than some good head.

  The second type of man you need on your call list, is a king dick. A man that’s hung like a horse. One that can relocate your damn ovaries while he’s up in you. Sometimes you need that dick that leaves you paralyzed for a few days. It will have you walking like you’ve been riding a race horse. You should be drooling while he’s knocking your walls loose.

  The last man you need in your rotation, is the sex scholar. Someone that can read your body like a well written book. A man that knows what he’s doing. This guy doesn’t necessarily have a big dick, but can work you over with what he has. He’s just the right type of nasty, and knows when you need it fast and rough or slow and deep. He can play your body like Stevie Wonder can play a damn harmonica. He’s usually the first one you call when you need some. He was born to fuck.

  If you have these three diverse types of men in your arsenal, you’re on the right track. And if you find a man that can do all three, then wake your ass up because you’re probably dreaming.

  I’m brought back to the moment with a moan when Cliff added two fingers into my tight heat hitting that bundle of nerves perfectly. That’s all I needed. I came on a loud moan and a gush of sticky liquid. Like a pro, Cliff slurped up every bit of me like he was drinking through a straw. Damn right he should.

  If a man can’t finish the job by drinking down every ounce of your juices, leaving not even a drop to run down your thighs, then he has no idea what the fuck he is doing, and you need someone more qualified.

  Cliff climbed up from between my legs, placed a kiss above my navel, and then laid on his back beside me. I glanced at the clock on my night stand. 9:45 a.m. Nothing like starting your day off with an orgasm. I rolled out of my California king bed and pulled my robe off the bottom of the bed before slipping it over my body.

  I took a minute to admire Cliff. Smooth chocolate skin stretched over a well-toned athletic body. High cheek bones and a face chiseled by the gods. His eyes are the color of honey shaded by thick curly lashes. Thick full lips and a full beard. The man was gorgeous. Too bad his dick was severely average. His tongue was the only reason this brother got a call from me.

  “I’m heading to take a shower, you can relax as long as needed. Just long as you’re ready to leave when I am.”

  He looked over to me with a cocky smile on his face. The smile a man gave when he thought he’d laid pipe in bed. His arms were behind his head. His dick was sticking straight up beneath his gray jogging pants.

  Some men should be banned from wearing jogging pants.

  “Damn, you ain’t even gone get your boy off?”

  I rolled my eyes at his request. “When I sent you the text to come over, did it not entail that this was for me and me only? You could have said no.”

  I had no shame in telling him this.

  How many booty calls had a man made where he got his, and the woman was sent home with an over worked pussy, messed up hair, and nothing else to show for it? At least I let him know upfront what to expect.

  Cliff chuckled. He still thought my brutal honesty was my way of being funny. If he only knew.

  “I know, baby! But damn, you got a brother hard as shit with that tasty wet pussy.”

  I didn’t comment, instead I headed for my attached bathroom.

  “Aye, Charli, wait!”

  I stopped in my tracks and watched him lean up from the bed. His brown skin looked delicious against my creamy white Egyptian cotton sheets. He better be glad he’s fine as hell, lord knows he had shit else going for him.

  “So ummm, next week my mama’s having a cook out, and I thought maybe you would like to go?”

  I lifted one of my professionally threaded eyebrows at him. My hands crossed over my chest lifting my c-cup breasts higher underneath the silk robe.

  “And why the fuck would I do that?”

  Cliff ran a hand down his face. He’s trying me again. For the last few weeks, Cliff had been trying to upgrade himself in my life. First, he started giving me sob stories about needing money in order to spend more time with me— that shit was never going to work. Then he started to mention things about “our” future. Now he wanted me to meet his mama. Hell No!

  “I’m saying, we been together for 6 months. I think it’s time we take our relationship to the next level.”

  What fucking relationship? I called him only when I needed my pussy ate and every so often I will grace him by riding his dick to the heavens, however that does not make a relationship. I didn’t do relationships. Ever.

  “We have not been together six months.”

  “Five and a half, then. Does that really matter?”

  Yes, muthafucker, it did, because at the six mon
th mark was when I usually served men their exit papers. Which you will obviously be receiving today.

  “Cliff, you know my rules.” My hands slid from under my breasts to my hips. “You said you were fine with them.”

  “Yea! I was, but I’m not with my girl any more. I called it off last night.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I shouted!

  “Damn, Charli,” He stood to his feet and snatched his shirt off my floor, roughly pulling it over his head. “I thought you would be happy that you don’t have to be my side chick anymore. I’m trying to upgrade you to my main girl.”

  At this I laughed.

  “Honey, first of all, I was never your side chick. The term side chick implies that we have a relationship, and we damn sure don’t have that. Plus, how the fuck would me being with you be an upgrade?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” He squared his shoulders and folded his arms over his chest. His attempt to intimidate me would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so pissed off.

  “Cliff, you work the grill at Waffle House. Now don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with honest work, but you’ve only had that job for three weeks. Before that, you were unemployed and living off the girl you just dumped. Now, let’s do the math, you just ate my pussy on thousand-dollar sheets. Your crusty-ass feet are rubbing against a Persian rug that cost more than everything you own, combined. Not to mention you pulled your busted-up Cutlass through my gated community, into my marble driveway and parked it in one of my six car garages. Now tell me again, how does me upgrading to your main chick benefit me?”

  I could see the egg and anger all over his face. This fool had clearly lost his mind.

  I never brought up money around the men I fucked. You could take one look at me and tell I wasn’t hurting for it. So when I chose a man to take to bed, he didn’t have to make the same bank as me. I never felt like a man had to match my check, few will. The fact that Cliff didn’t have shit was never an issue for me, but today, he needed to be checked.

  “Oh! You’re so quick to throw your money up in my face, but I’m the guy you call when you want some dick. I’m the one laying pipe. If I walk out that door, you won’t ever find another man that can lay it down like me.”

  I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes. It made it even funnier that he was deadass serious.

  “Boy, Bye! You should really leave before you say something that will get your feelings hurt.” I turned towards my bathroom, done with this dude.

  “Don’t fucking walk away from me, bitch!”

  My head snapped around so fast I could’ve needed an exorcism.

  “You did not just call me a bitch?” Now he was about to get the truth. “You actually think you’re the only man I have on speed dial for dick? Baby, you aren’t even on my favorites list. The only reason you got called this morning, is because your bum ass was the only one that could get here fast enough. And if it wasn’t for your tongue game, you wouldn’t have even gotten a call back with that basic ass dick. Don’t get mad at me because you thought you were going to use me to make a come up. Thought I didn’t know about the holes in your condoms? You’re a dumb ass if you thought I would be foolish enough to get pregnant by you. I told you not to let your girl go. You thought I was joking?”

  “Yo, fuck you, Charli!”

  “Trust me, you’ve tried and failed.”

  He took a step towards me like he had the notion to put his hands on me. I knew he wasn’t that dumb. When he raised his hand and brought it across my cheek, it only took the few seconds after I hit the bed for the impact to register. This muthafucker just hit me. My hand slipped in between my head board and mattress and retrieved the little .38 I have stashed back there. My papa didn’t raise a fool. I aimed the gun at his head, and he had the right mind to step back.

  “Aye yo, put that shit up, Charli. You don’t know what you’re doing with that.”

  “My granddaddy is from the back woods of Alabama. I was learning to shoot a gun while you were still shitting in your diapers. I can hit a mark from fifteen yards away. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  I clicked off the safety causing the sound to echo in the quiet room.

  “Right now, that should be the least of your concerns. See, you let this big house and bougie attitude fool you. I’m from the West end, born and raised. I still have family there. Hell, I could shoot you and have my cousin and his boys dispose of your body without anyone ever finding out. Or maybe, I’ll call my connection at the police department and have him do it for me. Luckily for you, I have shit to do today. So, I’m going to give you a choice. You can either walk out my door and never come back, or your mama will be planning a funeral instead of a cook out. The choice is yours.”

  I watched the sweat drop from his brow and run down the center of his nose. I couldn’t believe this worthless man had the audacity to put his hands on me. I should’ve shot his dick off for that alone.

  He wisely backed away from me, grabbed his shoes off the floor, and continued out of my bedroom. I followed him with the gun still aimed at his head. When he got to my front door and stepped on the other side, I could see some of his courage came back.

  “You will never find another man like me, Charlice.”

  “That’s the point.” I kicked my front door shut in his face.

  Well, that’s the end of Cliff. I slipped the safety back on my gun and headed back to my shower. It’s Sunday, and I can’t be late to Grams’.

  TWO

  Every Sunday, rain or shine, my family met at my Grams’ house for dinner after church. This tradition had gone on for as long as I could remember. Of course, the family had grown over the years.

  Charlie and Sadie Jeffries had five children. Their oldest was a son, Ellis Sr. I don’t remember much about him. He died in 1991 during Desert Storm. His flag and pictures are displayed on the wall in Grams’ house. Uncle Ellis only had one child, Ellis Jr, or Eli.

  Eli was one of my two favorite cousins. He’s a few years older than me, and he’s been in trouble with the law a few times, but not since I got him a job working security for my office. He and I were raised in the same house after his father died. We’re like siblings. Eli understands me more than anyone else in my family.

  Josephine—or Aunt Joe as I know her—is the second oldest of Grams and Papa’s kids. Josephine has been with Uncle Kenny for forty years. They have three children together, seven grandkids, and still aren’t any closer to getting married. From Aunt Jo, I have my cousins: Kenny Jr—the basketball coach, Keva—the deacon’s wife, and Keisha—the professional baby mama.

  The family thought for the longest that Kenny Jr. would be their claim to fame. He was an outstanding basketball player in high school and even went off to college to play for free. However, his lack of control and inability to take responsibility for his actions got him kicked out. He was lost for a while, until about three years ago when I got him the job at my old high school coaching boys’ basketball. It’s amazing what you can get approved when you’re fucking the district superintendent.

  The next child in the Jefferies household was Aunt Vivica. She’s married to Uncle Walter— who never comes around. Rumor has it, he and Papa got into a huge argument the day Uncle Walter and Aunt Vivica got married, and he was no longer welcomed in Papa’s house. Even so, I still had a better relationship with Uncle Walter than I did with my aunt.

  Between my two aunts, Vivica and I have the rockiest relationship. For some reason, she has never liked me.

  Aunt Vivica and Uncle Walter have two daughters; Chante is the oldest and married to Quincy, the lawyer. Grams likes to say Chante and her husband have champagne taste with a beer budget. Quincy makes good money, but he out spends his means. Always wanting to keep up with me and the partners at his law firm. He’s a long way from matching my pocket.

  Devin is Aunt Vivca’s youngest daughter. She’s not only my second favorite cousin, but also my best friend. The girl has a talent for doing
hair. I’ve been trying to convince her to go back to school and get her cosmetology license so I can buy her her own shop. Unfortunately for Devin, she let that four-letter disease drag her down. Love. Her senior year in high school she fell in love with some no-good deadbeat named Miles that got her pregnant. Now she’s stuck with two kids, another on the way, and a man that doesn’t want her to better herself. I think he doesn’t want her to do anything with her life because he enjoys the perks of living off the state. Hard to get food stamps when your meal ticket owns her own business. She’s blindly in love, and he’s a controlling fuck up. Despite how much I push, she won’t go against his request.

  The youngest and only living son of my grandparents, is Martin. He and his wife live in California with their three sons. They don’t visit.

  The last Jefferies child is my mother, Bernita, or Nita as my family calls her. I’m Nita’s only child. To say my mother and I have an estranged relationship, would be an understatement. I haven’t talked to my mother since she dropped me off at my grandparents’ doorstep when I was sixteen. She packed up and moved on with her then boyfriend, Ricky, the stock broker.

  There are only three things Nita loves: herself, men, and money. There is no room for anything else in her life. Not family, and damn sure not a child she never wanted. She rarely ever comes home to visit. The only time any one hears from Nita is when she’s between men and in need of money. Last time Grams mentioned her, she was down in Florida somewhere working as a bartender.

  The speaker in my Audi A6 cut off and was replaced with the ringing of my cell phone. I hit the hands-free option on my steering wheel. I smiled because I already knew who it was.

  “Hey, Grams! How do you like it?... And before you object, it’s already paid for.”

  Since I was a little girl, I’ve had a knack for business. I’ve been making my own money since elementary school when I was selling shitty handmade bracelets at top price. The love of business traveled throughout my life. I graduated at the top of my class at Emory University, and came out the gate making $80,000 a year at Piers Consulting firm as one of their consulting associates. After getting my Masters in Marketing at Harvard, I realized my full potential and started my own consulting firm.