Insatiable Love 2 Read online

  Insatiable Love 2:

  When Broken Hearts Collide

  Latoya Chandler

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One - By Any Means Necessary

  Chapter Two - Martinez’s Oily Surprise

  Chapter Three - Bernard Is Out For Self

  Chapter Four - Darnell Wants To Fix Things

  Chapter Five - Latavia Blames Herself

  Chapter Six - Dear Diary

  Chapter Seven - Sharon Feels Latavia’s Pain

  Chapter Eight - Martinez’s Visit With Granny

  Chapter Nine - Bernard Is In A Good Mood

  Chapter Ten - Darnell To The Rescue

  Chapter Eleven - Latavia Is In The Closet

  Chapter Twelve - Sharon Has No Place To Go

  Chapter Thirteen - Martinez’s Eye-Opener

  Chapter Fourteen - Bernard Is Furious

  Chapter Fifteen - Darnell Grants Latavia’s Wish

  Chapter Sixteen - Sharon Is Resentful

  Chapter Seventeen - Nicole’s Daddy Issues

  Chapter Eighteen - Bernard Is Not Having It

  Chapter Nineteen - Darnell’s Houseguest

  Chapter Twenty - Latavia Is Grief-Stricken

  Chapter Twenty-one - Martinez Is Fed Up

  Chapter Twenty-two - Sharon Pleads For Forgiveness

  Chapter Twenty-three - Nicole’s Reality

  Chapter Twenty-four - Bernard The Snitch

  Chapter Twenty-five - Darnell’s Confrontation

  Chapter Twenty-six - Latavia Sees The Truth

  Chapter Twenty-seven - The Other Side Of Sharon

  Chapter Twenty-eight - Martinez Reflects

  Chapter Twenty-nine - Darnell Isn’t Feeling Sharon

  Chapter Thirty - Martinez In The Middle

  Chapter Thirty-one - Darnell’s Breakdown

  Chapter Thirty-two - Sharon Is Weary

  Chapter Thirty-three - Marty Is Falling Apart

  Chapter Thirty-four - Latavia’s Soul Cries

  Chapter Thirty-five - Darnell Seeks Closure

  Chapter Thirty-six - Latavia Can’t Deal

  Chapter Thirty-seven - Martinez Is Torn

  Chapter Thirty-eight - Darnell Searches For Answers

  Chapter Thirty-nine - Nicole Faces Her Reality

  Chapter Forty - Sharon Loses Herself

  Chapter Forty-one - Darnell Comforts Latavia

  Chapter Forty-two - Latavia’s Disloyalty

  Chapter Forty-three - Nicole Is Tired Of Hurting

  Chapter Forty-four - Ramona’s Heartache

  Chapter Forty-five - Latavia Is Behind Closed Doors

  Chapter Forty-Six - Martinez Can’t Cope

  Chapter Forty-seven - Delvin’s Drought

  Chapter Forty-eight - Darnell’s Whammy

  Chapter Forty-nine - Nicole Is Blindsided

  Chapter Fifty - Ramona’s Mission

  Chapter Fifty-one - Martinez’s Heartache

  Chapter Fifty-two - Delvin’s Surprise

  Chapter Fifty-three - Darnell’s Living Nightmare

  Chapter Fifty-four - Nicole’s Sexual Healing

  Chapter Fifty-five - Ramona Is Confused

  Chapter Fifty-six - Martinez Has Had Enough

  Chapter Fifty-seven - Delvin Is Caught Up

  Chapter Fifty-eight - Darnell’s Nightmare Continues

  Chapter Fifty-nine - Granny Is Concerned

  Chapter Sixty - Ramona Learns The Truth

  Chapter Sixty-one - Delvin’s Dilemma

  Chapter Sixty-two - Darnell’s Living Thunderstorm

  Chapter Sixty-three - Latavia Is Confused

  Chapter Sixty-four - Granny Is Devastated

  Chapter Sixty-five - Darnell Reminisces

  Chapter Sixty-six - Latavia Remembers

  Chapter Sixty-seven - Ramona Has A Revelation

  Chapter Sixty-eight - Delvin Needs A Break

  Chapter Sixty-nine - Darnell Makes Amends

  Chapter Seventy - Latavia Dislikes Herself

  Chapter Seventy-one - Ramona Is On A Mission

  Chapter Seventy-two - Granny’s Heartaches

  Chapter Seventy-three - Delvin Seeks Help

  Chapter Seventy-four - Darnell Is Annoyed

  Chapter Seventy-five - Mona’s Master Plan

  Chapter Seventy-six - Darnell Remains Quiet

  Chapter Seventy-seven - Granny’s Discernment

  Chapter Seventy-eight - Darnell Learns The Truth

  Chapter Seventy-nine - Latavia’s Confession

  Chapter Eighty - Ramona Is Dumbfounded

  Chapter Eighty-one - Ramona Is Devastated

  Chapter Eighty-two - Ramona Makes A Decision

  Epilogue

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Insatiable Love 2: When Broken Hearts Collide

  Copyright © 2021 Latoya Chandler

  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: 978-1-6455-6248-1

  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.

  Submit Orders to:

  Customer Service

  400 Hahn Road

  Westminster, MD 21157-4627

  Phone: 1-800-733-3000

  Fax: 1-800-659-2436

  Prologue

  Dear Diary:

  I know I haven’t spoken with you in such a long time. I really wish you were a real friend, not me talking to myself about myself. Had you been a real and true friend, you could have told me about my devilish, whorish ways. I don’t blame you. I did this to myself. I just wanted to write to you one last time to let you know I’m moving on with my life to try to better myself.

  I am going to give my doctor this notebook and the others so he can see the real me, just in case I try to hide something. I didn’t realize how messed up I was until I saw someone’s life taken right before me. I started out on this last crazy journey of mine on a mission to take back a man who never belonged to me in the first place, only to end up alone and by myself as usual.

  What I have learned in the last twenty-four hours is that sex is a physical act that lasts for an hour or so but has the capability to damage your very being for a lifetime. Be careful how you use that deadly weapon between your legs. It can and will kill you in more ways than one.

  I’m going on and on as usual, but I find solace in writing down my thoughts. So thank you for listening, my dear friend and diary.

  Love Always,

  The Woman in Broken Pieces

  Chapter One

  By Any Means Necessary

  Through all of this bickering and fighting with my husband, Bernard blackmails me into memorializing the skeletons of my childhood. Honestly, the way I see it, life has a way of dealing you the same cards over and over. It’s just a different scene and characters but pretty much the same scenario. I’ve never approached the demons of my past, and it appears they’ve decided to have an all-out intervention with my mind via my darling husband.

  I was taught that once our sins are forgiven, they are thrown into the sea of forgetfulness. That includes the sins of our mothers, fathers, and family. All I had to do was forgive them and I would be in a better place with God, cl
eansed from all I’ve done, thought, or what was done to me. Right now, I’m starting to wonder how true that is considering the way things have been with Bernard and me. Let’s not forget my prison sentence, or bid, I did being married to Braxton.

  I don’t know where to start. I believe I was a vibrant, energetic child but would find myself in some mischief in one way or another. However, my heartache started long before I was even born. My birth mother wanted to give me up for adoption, but her parents, my biological grandparents, wouldn’t allow it. This caused a battle, and my mom eventually gave my grandparents custody of me because they wanted me, and she didn’t. They were ultimately deemed unfit. I was in there for six months after being born with health issues inherited from my mom’s drug abuse. Narcotics played a massive part in my mom’s life, dictating all her decisions, especially those having to do with loving and accepting me.

  I bounced around from foster home to foster home for ten years, which afforded a mix of good and bad experiences. It also left me with a constant sense of abandonment, mistrust, and low self-esteem from growing up not feeling wanted. Fortunately, or not so fortunately for me, I found a foster family who took me in as one of their own on my tenth birthday. They eventually adopted me when I was 14. They were always harder on me than they were with my other adopted siblings. I was told it only appeared that way because I was the oldest of the five children, and more was expected of me.

  My foster parents were very rigid in their religious beliefs and made us children obey them—or should I say honor them—or, they told us, our days on earth would be cut short. I usually refused to give into their requests and demands, such as only wearing dresses that went past my knees, because I was made fun of at school. I would steal or borrow my younger sister’s pants and would change as soon as I got on the school bus. Because I was older and my body was changing, I was required to hide my body so a man could find me when I came of age and want me for me, not because I was a whore revealing all my body parts.

  My foster/adoptive dad, the disciplinarian, caught wind of my rebellious behavior by mysteriously showing up at school during lunch to “see what I was up to.” I paid for it severely when I got home from school. Tears threaten my eyes from just reliving the horrific experiences, especially one in particular.

  “Sharon, I see you want to be grown and whore around in men’s britches,” my dad barked.

  “No, sir, it was frigid out, so I borrowed Kacey’s pants.”

  “Thou shalt not lie. What commandment are you breaking?” he chastised me, swinging a black leather belt with studs in it, connecting it with the side of my face.

  “I am sorry, sir,” I screeched through the pain.

  “Thou shalt not lie. What commandment are you breaking?”

  “The ninth commandment, sir,” I howled.

  He battered me for what appeared to be days in the most unfriendly and unloving manner with that belt, gifting me with bruises and scars until I believed I was unconscious. After a while, I really did black out. I had marks all over my body and gashes from the studs, so I was forced to stay home from school to hide the contusions and homemade stitches Mommy dearest would inflict or create to close up the deep open wounds the belt had generated.

  I eventually ran away from home, not knowing where I was going, which was when I ran into and officially met Braxton, the ladies’ man from school. I ended up confessing and telling him about the abuse. After giving him my virginity that evening, I knew he was a godsend the way he made love to me, catering to my body and making me feel wanted and special in a way I had never in my life felt before.

  Braxton also allowed me to hide in his grandmother’s basement until we came up with a plan B. For that reason alone, I love him the way I do. I feel I owe him for rescuing me from my foster/adoptive parents’ abuse. I regret not giving him the one thing he wanted—a child—which is something no other woman has been able to provide him with either. This is what I believed severed our marriage, and ironically, is probably one of the reasons I’ve grown fond of Latavia. She is allowing his legacy to live on, something no other woman could give him either.

  Right now, the one thing missing from my marriage that can and will allow things to flourish between us is a child. I know giving him a son would make things better for us. He just doesn’t realize it because he can’t get past his own warped belief system. That’s why I’m here as his helpmate. My only interference is he always wears a condom when we make love, and there’s no way of talking him out of it.

  Wait a minute . . . Thank you, God, for the great idea. You see, God will grant you what your heart desires. I just had a thought drop into my spirit. I will puncture holes into all of the condoms in the nightstand with a straight pin so he won’t notice them. That way, I can give my husband what no other woman has been able to give him and also have someone to really love me like no other.

  Chapter Two

  Martinez’s Oily Surprise

  Thank God for my friend and brother, Carter. I needed that. Now I have to occupy my mind to avoid driving over to where the love of my life, Cola, lives and making an unnecessary scene. Does this woman know or realize how much I love her? We cannot go on with the back-and-forth any longer. I need balance and stability for myself and, most importantly, my Gabby. I think I’m going to bite the bullet and go on over there after getting this place straightened up. We need to talk so I can see where her head is and what she’s thinking.

  “Oh, shit! Cola, when and how did you get here?” I quiz, startled to see her sitting on my bed as I enter the bedroom.

  “I got a little scared, papi. I’m sorry. No one has ever treated me the way you do, but I’m here to give us a try and to make it up to you if you’ll let me,” she baits me.

  Mesmerized by her beauty, I almost forget why I was upset or bothered in the first place. Not to mention the scene displayed right before me. She is sitting on top of the bed, which appears to be draped in a shower curtain, wearing only a white T-shirt. Before I can begin to utter a word, she pours some baby oil onto her tits and rubs it in. Her nipples are instantly exposed through the T-shirt, alerting my soldier to stand at full attention. Cola must have noticed she now has my undivided attention. She’s pouring it all over herself, pausing at her thighs, massaging the oil in, working her way down to her cleanly shaven kit-kat.

  “My candy licker would make you feel better. Let papi see how many licks it would take.”

  “Let me get it nice and wet for you, papi,” she entices me, painting her clit a creamy shade of white.

  She is now removing her shirt, and I’m about to lose my goddamn mind. I need to be in on this action. “Is it time for papi to come and play?”

  Without using words, she declines my admission to the playground, getting on all fours, pointing her immaculate round ass toward me. She pours more baby oil onto her lower back, allowing it to run down her ass, before manipulating it in for me, working her hand in and out of her cheeks and legs.

  My heart is racing at record speed. This is the hottest shit I’ve ever seen. “Baby, I can’t take it anymore. I want to please you.”

  Instead of a verbal response, she jiggles her lady parts, gyrating and rubbing herself, summoning me to come join her.

  “Lie on your stomach, and keep that ass up,” I command, entering her with deep strokes. The feeling of her slippery skin and soaking wet box is better than I’ve ever imagined it could be. Every single part of her body feels like the inside of her kit-kat—nice and wet. I believe she is the horniest I have ever seen her.

  “I want to bounce on it, papi,” she begs, pouring baby oil on my chest, locking eyes with me, breathing heavy, and licking her lips.

  This oil has our bodies sliding against each other and has me going even more. With her feet flat against the bed beside each of my arms, Cola begins some squatting exercises up and down on my Johnson between reaching behind herself to play with the Johnson’s twins. I’m not sure if it was the show she gave me, because I usu
ally last longer than this, but I’m about to tap out. I can’t hold back any longer.

  “Damn, Cola,” is all I can utter before my volcano erupts.

  This woman sure knows how to get what she wants out of me. Damn!

  Chapter Three

  Bernard Is Out For Self

  “Talk to me.”

  “Yo, Bernard, some shit went down, and Nae is dead,” Michael cries.

  “Hold up! Slow the fuck down. Dead? As in gone?”

  “Are you hard of hearing? You heard what I said!”

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “Not a hundred percent sure. They’re trying to figure it all out, but you know we’re on lockdown until further notice. All I know right now is that someone was out to get her and cut her up pretty bad. They cut her fuckin’ throat, B.”

  “Damn, that’s fucked up! You seem to be taking this pretty hard, my man. You think you’re going to be all right?”

  “Man, fuck you!”

  “Hello?”

  It appears his turned-out ass is in his feelings, hanging up phones and shit. I am a little fucked up that Nae went out like that, but what the fuck was I supposed to do? It was her or me, and I’m not taking the wrap for any of this shit. Michael’s nose was so deep in her ass that I couldn’t risk it. I did what was necessary. I feel bad. She got caught up in something she had no business in from the gate.

  I think I’ll take this time to go give my boy a visit. I haven’t seen him in a minute, I ponder, driving in the direction of the hospital. I’ve been trying to give him a minute to get his mental straight and deal with Latavia’s ass.

  “Hey, D! What’s up, partner? You’re looking good, my man.”

  “I can’t call it, Nard. Where’s your ass been?”

  “Dealing with Sharon’s crazy ass and giving you time, you know?”

  “So now you know what I need?”

  “Man, I’m just looking out for you as usual.”

  “Go ahead with that. So what’s new?”

  “Not a damn thing. Oh, yeah, I ran into your old flame, D.”