Insatiable Love 2
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.
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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.”