A scene from The Pleasure Trap…
Pleasure calmly walked across the room and picked up one of the dining room chairs to carry back over to sit down before her. Smyth was no more than one hundred and twenty pounds but the figurative fat lady was singing, and he owed her this final song without interruption.
“Kicked out of high school for fighting. A GED. Cocaine addiction. Rehab. Stripping at Club Trick…in Newark, of all places,” she said sarcastically, glancing over at him briefly.
He waited.
“You’ve been selling yourself for years—”
“That’s how we met,” he inserted smoothly.
Smyth leaned back and eyed him in reproach.
His look never wavered.
“Thank God you’re tested for diseases every three months,” she said, whipping the folder back open.
“Does it have my blood type and parental DNA tests as well?” he asked in clipped tones, the invasion of his privacy getting to him.
“Type O. You get it from your father,” she answered without hesitation.
He furrowed his brow.
“What was most revealing is Ms. Jaime Pine-Hall.”
He looked away, shifted in his seat, and then looked back at her. He was surprised at the tears gathering in her eyes. “Smyth—”
“No, no,” she said, holding up one long finger to shake at him in reprimand.
“My husband had risked all of this,” she began, waving her hand up and down her length, “and most importantly…this.” She pointed vigorously at her heart. “For a woman with no breeding, no class, and no looks—as far as I’m concerned. They will have their little ugly baby and I have to sit here and either play blind or wait for him to leave me. That’s not so hard with his dick and one foot already in the streets.”
“You can leave him, Smyth.” Pleasure reminded her of another option
She laughed bitterly and her face lit with fire. It was the most beautiful and vibrant he had ever seen the woman before him. “Don’t you dare give me advice on my marriage,” she spat, flinging the file over at him.
A corner of it pierced his chest before sliding down his body and landing on the floor. He picked it up. His life story would not join Baldwin’s in the safe if he could prevent it.
“I thought at the very least you would remain loyal since I paid for it, but I thank you for the costly lesson that I learned. I thank you and I thank Baldwin—my two men—for teaching me that money matters not when it comes to you whorish motherfuckers being led by your dick.”
Pleasure bit his lip to keep from reminding her that she frequently spread her legs to two men—basically giving him and Baldwin carte blanche to tag team the pussy.
“My husband didn’t care about what all I bring to the table in our marriage, and you couldn’t care less about everything I offered you for your loyalty.” She swiped away her tears with the sides of her hands. “This is a nasty little circle we all have going on here. The five of us: me, my husband and his whore, and you and yours.”
Pleasure was surprised at how quickly she struck his ire by calling Jaime out of her name.
“So that’s where you’ve been spending all of your time this last month,” she said. “Ms. Jaime Pine-Hall and her little town house.”
She rose from the window seat and walked around the living room, touching items of splendor here and there. “You have a choice to make. All of this”—she waved her arm around the apartment and then up and down the length of her body—“or Ms. Jaime Pine-Hall.”
The protectiveness he felt about Jaime both surprised and disturbed him. Theirs was not a relationship built on concern and care. And for her to frame the ultimatum of Jaime versus Smyth was ridiculous.
Or was it?
He thought about the excitement he felt at just the thought of seeing her later. It all was too much like a relationship of sorts, because his gut said “Jaime” without hesitation.
Shit.
That blurred line again. He had to fix it. Make it clear.
To read more of Pleasure’s POV (point of view) on his relationship with Jaime from the previous Mistress books…and to find out just what happened between them after that, get your copy of The Pleasure Trap. Now available wherever books are sold.
“The Pleasure Trap is another testament to Bryant’s awesome imagination. . . we are swept off our feet during the climatic reveal.” –RT Book Review
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