Love on the Rocks (3 part mini series)



  Love on the Rocks One

  ©2012 By Quiana Johnson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  Disclaimer: Characters in this book and situations are fictional. Any resemblences to real life or people were not intentional in the writing of this book.

  Facebook: AUTHOR QUIANA

  Email: [email protected]

  Love on the Rocks 2 is Also Available

  Coming Soon

  Love on the Rocks Part 3

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  CHECKOUT THESE ADDITIONAL TITLES

  UPTOWN’S PRINCESS

  UPTOWN’S PRINCESS 2

  FOREIGN EXCHANGE

  TEACHER’S PET

  1

  Buffy stumbled over the broken pavement as she shuffled the last two blocks home. She was through with Sean. This would be the last time he’d get her kicked out of a bar. Already the list of bars in Philly that allowed underage drinkers to party had dwindled down to the local hole-in-the-walls. But because of Sean, her stupid, soon to be ex-boyfriend, the ones that allowed either of them inside were becoming fewer and fewer.

  Buffy swatted a limp tree branch out of her way and ducked under the dangling leaves. Usually, the plush green foliage of the spring put a smile on her face, but not tonight. Every sign of spring, or the supposed love being in the air, reminded her of how much she hated Sean right now.

  The sound of Sean’s heavy tread grew louder behind her. Buffy turned the corner and started jogging. He damn sure wouldn’t be staying at her house tonight. No, he wouldn’t be staying there ever again. Buffy dug into the pocket on her mini skirt and pulled out her key ring. She smirked, remembering Sean had left his keys in the house when they left out. Buffy glanced down at her palm and fingered the key for the bottom lock.

  “What’s your problem?” she heard Sean yell from a distance.

  Buffy picked up more speed and bolted up the porch steps. The loud creaking of the shabby Frankford row home proved it needed more than a little remodeling. She swung the screen door open and it banged against her neighbor’s rail. Buffy didn’t care. Her neighbor constantly complained about the racket her and Sean made anyway, so that was just one more thing the fat bitch could add to the list.

  Hot with irritation, Buffy stomped her foot repeatedly for the motion detector, causing even more of a ruckus. Of course the broke ass porch light still didn’t come on. She squinted her eyes and found the keyhole by moonlight. She slid the key into the lock and turned.

  “Buffy,” Sean yelled.

  Buffy stuck her middle finger up and spun around. “Fuck you, Sean­­­­­–”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Sean yanked her by her tank top and sent her crashing to the sidewalk. She was more stunned than injured, but besides that, she refused to let him win so easily. She jumped to her feet and threw a sloppy right hook at Sean’s stupid pale face.

  Sean dodged the punch and grabbed her by the wrist.

  “Will you cut it out,” he said.

  Buffy shrieked and tried to wiggle out of Sean’s grasp. It was of no use. Even though they were both built like Slim Jims, Sean, at six-foot-three, was a whole foot taller than her. She had to stand on her toes just for her pathetic punch to reach his face.

  “I hate you, Sean,” she yelled.

  Sean squeezed her wrist even tighter. “Why are you acting so crazy, Buffy. Calm down before someone calls the cops.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” she yelled even louder.

  From the corner of her eye she could see the light from her neighbor’s house flicker on. Nosey bitch. The Mammie look-alike peeked from behind the curtains. Buffy growled at her neighbor. No doubt, the woman would call the cops.

  “I’m tired of you, Sean, I hate you,” Buffy said. “Get away from my house.”

  “You’re drunk,” Sean said.

  “Not drunk enough,” Buffy said. “Because you got us kicked out of the bar.”

  “I’m not going to let some old man drool all over my girl.”

  Buffy fixed her eyes on his, and emphasizing every word she said, “Men look, Sean.” Then she attempted to squirm out of his hold once again.

  “Not while I’m around,” he said.

  Buffy sent a knee towards Sean’s crotch. “Well, go away!”

  Sean jumped back.

  “Is that what you want?” he asked.

  Buffy tried to knee him again. “Yes!”

  At the sound of her neighbor’s front door opening, the couple paused their scuffling. The woman came outside sporting a saggy pair of pajama shorts and a stained white t-shirt, looking like a human hog. In her hand she clutched a cordless phone.

  “Is everything okay out here?” the woman said.

  The woman knew damn well everything wasn’t okay, but her appearance made Sean let go of Buffy’s wrist. He was in no rush to go to jail tonight. Buffy flexed her wrist and grinned in triumph.

  “Everything is just fine, Ms. Jones,” Buffy said.

  Ms. Jones sighed. “Well, cut the noise.” She then turned her saggy ass around and retreated back into her house.

  Buffy was so busy gloating over Sean’s defeat that she was caught off guard when he made his move past her and entered the house. Buffy marched up the porch steps and slammed the door behind her.

  “Cut that shit out before you wake mama up,” Sean said.

  “Fuck you, Sean,” Buffy said. “That’s my mama. Don’t tell me how to act in my own house.”

  Sean made a move towards her and Buffy took two steps back. “Whatever,” he said, and strode through the living-room, into the kitchen.

  Buffy followed him. He had some nerve. He acted as if he was the king of the castle in her mother’s home.

  When she entered the kitchen, Sean was standing near the fridge holding two cans of Steel Reserve. “Beer?” he said, holding out one to her.

  Buffy snatched the beer from his hand. “Sean, I said get out.”

  Sean popped his brew open, sauntered over to the sink, leaned against the counter and took a long sip.

  Buffy huffed. “So, you’re not leaving?” she said.

  Sean chuckled. Then he bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

  Who was she kidding? Sean was the king of her castle. She took her place next to him, popped the top on her own can, and took a sip as well.

  “You’re going to have to change how you dress,” he said.

  Buffy looked down at her clothing. Sure, her chocolate kisses were busting out of her Cami-top. But, when you’re 5’3, 120lbs, and a D cup, every shirt looked tight.

  Buffy frowned. “What’s wrong with how I dress?”

  “You draw in too much attention,” he said. “I’m tired of getting kicked out, and having to knock some geezer out for flirting with you.” Sean took another sip of his beer. “And you should respect that.”

  Buffy giggled. “Maybe that’s what I like.”

  Suddenly, Sean smashed the can of beer he was holding against her head.

  She screamed and shied away. The beer drenched her pink and black extensions and ran down the side of her face.

  Immediately thereafter, Sean grabbed the sides of Buffy’s face and kissed her lips. “I’m sorry, Buff,” he said.

  The sincerity in his voice meant nothing to her. Buffy shoved
him away and sank to the floor in tears.

  “Get out,” she cried.

  Sean kneeled down in front of her. In less than thirty seconds, his angry red face had turned to a sullen pink and his ice-blue eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Buff, you know I get jealous. Why do you like to play with me?”

  Buffy shielded her face, but Sean pushed her hands away. He planted delicate kisses on her lips, and then moved down to her collar bone.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered affectionately.

  Sean wiped away Buffy’s tears and she immediately began to calm down. His kisses were always gentle, and when he caressed her, their relationship always went from a nightmare to a sweet dream. Fight and makeup–that was their routine. If their relationship would incorporate anything different, Buffy would probably go mad.

  Sean slid his hand up Buffy’s skirt and pulled down her soft pink panties, revealing the thin patch of hair covering her succulent snatch. With one hand tensely cupping her vagina, and the other on the small of her back, Sean lowered her down to the grimy kitchen floor. Buffy’s legs shook in anticipation, her favorite part. Sean curved his body until his face met Buffy’s bended knees. As if the fumes from her aching pussy acted as an aromatic candle, Sean inhaled a long whiff. His lips curled into a smile that reflected that he was pleased.

  Sean then used his tongue to make a line from her knee to her thigh, just outside of her pussy lips. Circling his skilled tongue on her yearning flesh, Sean released low groans between vigorously biting Buffy’s thighs. It was sheer torture. Jolts of pleasure zipped through Buffy’s body as Sean teased the fold between her love box and inner thigh. Buffy’s eyes flittered, and rolled into her head. Ready to explode, Buffy butterflied her legs, allowing Sean full access to her seeping walls. Before indulging himself in her savory fountain, Sean came up for air and locked his ocean-blue eyes with hers.

  “I love you, Buff,” he said.

  His adoring words aroused tingles throughout her body all the way to her nipples. In a plea for pleasure, Buffy hastily moved her hands to her breast, gravely groping at her large mangos, and tugging at her hardened nipples. No longer able to hold back, Buffy ran her fingers through Sean’s blonde shag and forcefully shoved his head back down until his lips tickled her vagina. Then he slid her tongue deep inside her silky slide. Using his fingers to spread her vaginal folds, Sean hungrily dipped his tongue into her honey pot. She gasped for air from the sensations emanating from between her thighs and spread her legs further apart, letting him probe even deeper with his tongue. Using his hands to pin her legs in place Sean slurped on her juices.

  Once again, Sean found a way to make her forgive him, and in response to all the love Sean was showing her, she finally managed to say, “I love you too.”

  2

  The middle aged pharmacist ran her fingers through her thinning blonde hair, looked over at Sean, and then hunched back over her computer and peered into the screen.

  Sean, sitting in a chair in the waiting area, tapped an impatient rhythm on the chair’s arm. What the hell was taking so long? When he realized she was typing again, he blew out a puff of hot air and shifted in his seat.

  “Ann-Anna-Anna,” the woman said like a broken record. “Sorry, no Anna Jefferies.” She then took a step away from the computer. “She’s not due for a refill.” The woman shrugged her shoulders and gave Sean a stern glare.

  Sean jumped to his feet and approached the counter. Surely the old hag had made a mistake. He removed his red Phillies baseball cap, now revealing his blonde strands, and sat the hat on the countertop. The technician pursed her lips and looked up at him. “Mam,” Sean said, “please, my mama is dying, she really needs those meds. Please, look again.”

  The woman sighed, but, as expected, she waddled her wide ass back to the computer, and began typing. Seconds later the woman stepped away from the computer again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I was wrong. There’s one refill left for Anna Jefferies. Oxycontin.” The woman paused, gave Sean an icy glare, and said, “Is there any way Ms. Jefferies can pick up her meds?”

  Sean snatched his hat from the counter. “I said she’s dying,” he said, and walked back to his seat.

  “Well,” the pharmacist said, “next time she will need a fresh prescription.”

  Sean ignored her sarcasm and flopped back down in the chair. What a bitch. Even if mama could get her own meds he would have done it. It was his job. It was the least he could do for her taking him in and allowing Sean to be with her daughter. She had done more for him than anyone else had ever done. For the first time in his life, Sean had a permanent home and a mother. Even if he and Buffy ever decided to split, Anna Jefferies, would always be his Mama.

  Ten minutes later the woman waved him over to the counter. Sean strolled over and took the bag from the counter top.

  “How much is it?” He said, already aware that the state paid for everything.

  “No copay,” she said.

  “Great, thanks,” Sean said. He smiled at the pharmacist but her face remained impassive. “Oh,” he said, and dug into his pocket, “let me get a box of Sudafed.” Sean pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill and threw it on the counter.

  The woman bent down, pulled out a thick binder, and placed it on the counter. “I.D, please,” she sang.

  To Sean, those words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He reached into his back pocket and placed his I.D next to the binder. The woman picked up the I.D and scanned it.

  “You don’t know my face?” he said, “I’m legal.” Sean tried his boyish smile but his effort fell flat.

  “I sure do know your face,” she said, and began fingering the pages.

  Sean anxiously waited for the woman to stop flipping the pages.

  “Yup,” she said, “just as I suspected.” She slid Sean’s I.D back to him and smirked. “You’re over your limit for the month.”

  Sean could’ve smacked the stupid smirk off of her face. He knew he was over his limit. But who was she to find amusement in his recreational activity. Sean tucked his I.D back into his pocket along with the twenty dollar bill.

  “You’re a good kid,” the woman said. She probably witnessed the sheer disappointment on Sean’s face.

  “What does that mean?”

  The woman gave Sean a smug look. “Clean up your act.”

  “Yea,” Sean said, “you too.”

  Sean turned on his heels and exited the store. He was livid. How can a person who served drugs for a living turn her nose up at the person who uses them? Snobby bitch.

  Sean made his skateboard come to a halt right before it hit the porch’s bottom step. He tossed the board onto the front porch of the house and slammed the screen door with a loud bang. He then bolted up the steps, straight to the back room, opened the bedroom door and stuck his head inside.

  “Hey, Buff,” he said in between breaths. Sean tossed the bag onto the bed right next to Buffy, “I couldn’t get it. See what you can do.”

  Buffy nodded her head. Sean popped his head back out of the room and headed to the front bedroom. Quietly, he cracked the bedroom’s door. He could hear sounds of In Living Color playing in the background. Anna was lying in her hospital bed watching the show with a smile on her face. Her dark skin glistened in the morning sun. Anna reminded him of the old black women he’d watch on TV Saturday afternoons back in the orphanage. She was the real life Florida Evans from Good Times, or any other heavy set, black, good spirited older woman. The kind of woman that whites would leave to watch over their children back in the day. Her presence was so powerful, yet it was so weak.

  “Hey, Mama,” he said, “how are you feeling today?” Sean started calling Anna Mama a year ago, shortly after he and Buffy got together. Even on her cancerous death bed, Anna managed to teach him life lessons that the orphanage never could.

  “What do I always tell you?” Anna said.

  “I know, I know,” Sean said.

  “Won’t no days
be like the glory days,” they both recited together.

  “And where will those days be?” she asked.

  “In heaven,” Sean mumbled the painful reminder of her declining health. He gave Anna a kiss on the cheek. “I got your meds, Mama.”

  She waved him to place the medication on the TV tray next to her bed where all of her other pill bottles sat. Sean opened up the window next to her bed. A cool–May breeze blew into the room.

  “Doesn’t that spring air smell nice?” Anna said dreamily.

  “Yea, Mama,” he said, “real nice. You sit tight. I’m going to get you something to drink.”

  “Where else am I going to go,” she said, and mustered up a faint laugh.

  “You hungry?” Sean asked.

  “No, I’m not hungry baby.”

  “But you need to eat,” he said.

  She looked over at him and he instantly dropped the subject.

  “Okay,” Sean gave Anna a kiss on the cheek and left the room.

  Downstairs Buffy was intensely focused, busy at the kitchen table crushing the Sudafed to a fine powder. Sean strode around the house, opening all of the first floor windows. He walked back into the kitchen, poured Mama a tall glass of water, and handed it to Buffy.

  “How’d you get them?” Sean said.

  Buffy smiled. “I used my fake I.D yesterday.”

  “Go ‘head up stairs and sit with your mama for a little bit, she would like that.” 

  “She’ll be just fine,” Buffy said. “I want to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help, Buff,” Sean said scowling, “she does.”

  Buffy rose to her feet with her lips poked out like a pouty child. “Fine.”

  She pulled a hefty box of supplies from under the kitchen cabinet and handed it to Sean. He removed iodine, ether, a few boxes of matches, methanol, and some other items and placed them on the kitchen’s counter. He then took a painter’s mask from out of the box and placed it over his face.

  “You look so cute with that mask on.” Buffy taunted with a smile. She then left the kitchen allowing Sean to work in peace.

  A few hours later Sean was looking at what he had patiently taken the time to concoct. Crystal Meth. He smiled at the beautiful crystals. It was going to be a good night.