Bronson was having a good time at the barbeque. He had been talking to a woman named Sherelle for the last hour. She had the same hairstyle and hair color as Mia Farrow in Rosemary's baby and she looked amazing with it. She had a pair of cornflower blue eyes that he loved having on him.
"You want another rib?" He asked.
"I've already eaten so many," she said.
"I love a woman who's not afraid to eat," he said.
"You must be head over heels in love with me by now then," she laughed.
He was about to say something funny back when her laughter suddenly stopped. He turned his head to look in the direction she was looking at. An angry man was watching her from afar.
"For fuck sake!" She growled.
"Boyfriend?" He asked.
"Ex," she answered. "Although he refuses to accept it. He's a fucking idiot. Maybe he won't come over if... Oh, fuck me! He's coming over. Of course that motherfucker is coming over."
Bronson watched the man crossing the garden and stopping in front of them. He tried his hardest to ignore Bronson, but Bronson could see the ex looked nervous about his size.
"What the fuck do you want, Kye?" Sherelle asked.
So the ex had a name. Not that it mattered to Bronson. The ex was already way overstepping, and Bronson was ready to tear the other man apart if he needed to.
"Sherelle," Kye nervously licked his lips. "We need to talk."
"We really don't," Sherelle said.
"It's important," Kye said.
"Just leave me the fuck alone, Kye. I broke up with you months ago. I'm never coming back no matter how many times you ask," Sherelle said.
Bronson chuckled at that information. Kye furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Bronson briefly.
"Who's the fat guy?" Kye asked.
"Stop it!" Sherelle growled.
"I'm the guy fucking her every night and making her cum... How did you put it, honey? Oh yeah! Way better than anyone ever has. That was what you said, right, honey?" Bronson asked.
"Word for word," Sherelle smirked.
Bronson smirked back at Sherelle. They had never met before this party but Kye didn't need to know that. Before they could react to Kye's next move, he grabbed the knife left on Bronson's plate and put it to his own throat.
"What the fuck?" Bronson asked.
"Stay out of this, loser," Kye looked from Bronson to Sherelle. "I'm gonna do it, Sherelle."
"I don't care," Sherelle said.
"I mean it. I'm gonna kill myself if you don't take me back," Kye said.
"I wish you would. That way you wouldn't bother me anymore," Sherelle said.
"I mean it!" Kye yelled.
"Dude, it's a fucking butter knife. It's gonna take you all week to slice your throat with that," Bronson said.
Kye held out the knife to look at it, and his face flushed red over his own stupidity.
"I'm still gonna kill myself. There's other ways like... I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." Kye stuttered.
"You do that," Sherelle said. "Meanwhile I'll be out living my life."
Sherelle grabbed Bronson's hand and stood up. He stood up with her and they walked back inside the house. Luckily Kye stayed in the garden.
"He's probably trying to pick his pride up from the floor," Bronson said.
Sherelle laughed and turned around to look at him. She walked backwards while he followed her step for step.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that," she said.
"I'm sorry you had to live that," he said.
"It's been hard. I haven't dared dating since him. I'm afraid to end up with another mentally abusive idiot," she said.
He grabbed her and pulled her into the bedroom. She giggled as he kicked the door shut and moved her over to the bed.
"Here?" She asked.
"I don't even know whose house it is. A friend brought me along," he said.
"That's even worse," she laughed.
"If he's the last guy you've been with, I just want you to erase that last memory of sex and give you a better one moving forward," he said.
"I'm not on birth control," she said.
He grinned at her and pushed his way down her body.
"There are other things I can do to you," he said.
"Like what?" She asked.
"Things you deserve," he smirked.
He popped the four buttons on her lime green, denim shorts and pulled them off her along with her white panties. He settled between her legs and ran his tongue up her labia.
"Please," she whispered.
He grabbed her thighs and let his tongue run around on her clit like a snake. Her moans fell softly but they were beautiful to listen to. He kept going for a while and then pushed two fingers inside her for extra pleasure.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "Bronson, please!"
He worked his fingers inside her while his tongue kept snaking around. She came in soft moans a minute later and he continued through her orgasm. She placed a hand on his head and he raised it with a shit eating grin.
"It sounded like you had a good time," he said proudly.
"I had the fucking best time," she matched his grin. "Let me do you."
"Nope!" He said.
He pulled his fingers out of her and sat back on his knees. He found her clothes and helped her back into it while she kept lying there. Her eyes never left him and he loved having them on him.
"Are you sure you don't want a blowjob?" She asked.
He crawled up her body and pecked her lips.
"Dead sure," he said.
"It doesn't seem fair," she said.
"I don't care. It was all about giving you a new last memory of sex. One that doesn't involve an amateur suicidal ex," he said.
She snorted in laughter, grabbed him behind his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.
"Thank you," she said.
"Anytime," he winked.