If you like books similar to 50 Shades of Grey, you'll enjoy Raven Ferrari's debut novel Hershey's Kiss. One of her amazing romance novels, Raven's story explores an interracial romance through the eyes of the billionaire Brandon as he falls out of love with his shallow wife and in love with his black governess, Hershey. If you love romantic stories featuring attractive billionaire's and confident, intelligent black women, you'll love Hershey's Kiss.
A man who seems to have it all is having trouble holding it all together. Brandon Boulder is a white alpha male billionaire with the "perfect" family. Except for the fact that his wife is a drug addict and serial cheat who refuses to care for their autistic son. A lesser man would have given up on the marriage and cheated on Jeanette Boulder long ago, but Brandon was a man of morals who turned down the advances of women at every turn.
The one person Brandon loved more than anyone in the world was his son, Jason. But Jason had problems of his own and had to be pulled out of school for the discrimination he faced due to his autism. Brandon had nowhere to turn so he hired a renowned au pair… Hershey Alexander.
Hershey Alexander, an accomplished black woman, was a naturally beautiful and confident savant who was more than happy for this well paying gig.
Brandon and Hershey soon discover their fatal attraction and fall madly in love, but neither of them could predict the impact they would have on each other's lives, or the lengths Jeanette would go to keep her breadwinner. What would Brandon have to lose to get the woman of his dreams to be his forever?
“Hey honey…” Jeanette said. “I didn’t know you were home yet. Come try this martini I had special ordered to me. Cost only $5000, and the thing is to-fucking-die-for.”
While accepting the martini glass that was thrust into his hand, Brandon responded with a curious raise of his eyebrow.
“Hey Jin,” he said. “Did you pick up Jason already? It seems kind of early for you to be drinking so much…”
While Brandon ran a multi-billion-dollar company, Jeanette’s responsibilities were but a few. Actually… There was only one. She was responsible for their son, Jason. For the last few weeks, Brandon and Jeanette started to suspect that something may be wrong with Jason. He wasn’t as well-adjusted as the other kids at school. He couldn’t figure out how to pee in a toilet bowl yet, so he wore a diaper. He hadn’t figured out how to draw yet, so while his peers would draw stick figures of their families, Jason would just scribble to his heart’s content. Brandon had a team of doctors check his son; his pride and joy.
Jeanette was a white trust fund baby who had spent the majority of her life “trying to keep the weight of” through a number of unhealthy methods. As a result, she looked perpetually gaunt, even haunting. She had dirty blonde hair, shoulder length that she wore in a twisted, complicated bun. Her eyes were brown to the point where they looked pitch black. Sometimes, staring into her eyes would send a primal chill throughout Brandon’s body. The darkness of her eyes contrasted with her pallor giving her a nearly demonic look at times.
Of course, Jeanette was “conventionally” beautiful. That had to have been part of the reason Brandon married her. She dressed tastefully in the most expensive clothing. She was educated at the finest private schools and universities. Jeanette obtained her Mrs. degree and immediately found a husband who could keep up with her fast-paced spending habits. Jeanette was a woman of the upper class, but that didn’t mean she was perfect.
But Brandon didn’t have time to think about Jeanette… The thought of a son who might not be perfectly healthy terrified Brandon. He himself was abnormally healthy for his age. He was extremely athletic. Brandon made the mistake of trying to swim at a public pool last summer, and within 15 minutes the paparazzi descended upon him like locusts and swarmed around the pool, viciously snapping pictures. The flashes were enough to induce an epileptic seizure. The next day, Brandon was on the cover of seventeen tabloids, and nine major magazines. Most of them zoomed in on one tiny part of his body: his hip flexors.
Those were the muscles which trailed from his abdominals all the way into his groin. They were the muscles of Greek gods and Roman statues. Brandon’s flexors signified ultimate beauty, as they had for thousands of years. That little swimming pool episode instantly triggered a new hip flexor trend around fashionistas and Hollywood celebrities. Now it wasn’t good enough to have a sixpack, you had to have those damn hip flexors. If your hip flexors didn’t trail into your cock like some biological innuendo — if moviegoers couldn’t see that the magic V — then you were nothing. Shit. All of this started, because Brandon wanted to take a damned swim.
After months of concern, Brandon has his son tested. Brandon knew he would love his son anyway; he just wanted to know what was wrong. The doctor’s report came back with one clear message: Jason was autistic. So nothing was really “wrong”, but it would be a lot of work to mold Jason’s world to fit his unique psychological profile. Jeanette seemed to be neutral about this information, but Brandon was absolutely devastated. Brandon was a perfect genetic specimen. He was vastly intelligent, he was extremely handsome, and he had the body of an Adonis. What’s more, Brandon had the highest aspirations for his son, Jason. He dreamed of the day when, after grooming his little boy for years, Jason would take the mantle and grow Boulder Corp into an even bigger and better organization. With this news, Brandon’s dream seemed to shatter to a million pieces.
While it was difficult to see his son struggling with a condition that would render him a pariah; watching his wife Jeanette descend into an abyss of alcoholism felt like shards of glass were being thrown in his eye. When they got married, they promised that they wouldn’t be like those other rich people who paid everybody to keep their kids as far away from them as possible. Brandon and Jeanette vowed to be active parents; the type who knew who their kid’s friends were, and where they were after dark. That’s why Jeanette’s next words hit Brandon like a bus, almost knocking him over…
“Nah…” Jeanette said. “I didn’t get him yet. He’s still at school. The Amex concierge service will be waiting for him when he gets out.”
Brandon’s face turned white, then red, then blue, then back to red. He instantly daydreamed about strangling this woman, this stranger in his wife’s body. Who would ever do something so irresponsible? Leaving a four year old autistic boy to be picked up by some strange man in a car? Brandon felt such strong proportions of rage and stupor that he was completely gridlocked and couldn’t say anything. He simply dropped the martini glass in his hand to the ground out of pure shock.
“Brandon! Look what you did! This was a $5000 martini. Sloan Brinkley personally made it me and rush delivered it in a liquid nitrogen cooler… Ah forget it. You’ve probably never even heard of Sloan before. How could you ever appreciate fine things if you don’t even know the world’s greatest mixologist?”
“Maybe if you worried about your son the way you worried about booze…” He muttered through gritted teeth.
Brandon’s remark instantly sent Jeanette into a fit of defensive rage. It was such an automatic response that it wasn’t clear whether this was all happening at random, or if she was looking for a fight. Jeanette smashed a nearby vase, and then she leapt at the first expensive painting she could find to scratch and claw at it, all the while screaming and howling like a monstrous animal.
“Don’t you fucking blame me for what happened yesterday… You can’t blame me for that shit.”
Jeanette reached for an ornament on a nearby surface and she launched it across the room. It smashed into the wall and broke into thousands of pieces. Brandon was now growing tired of her violent antics, so he stepped toward her, squared his shoulders to hers, and he gently placed his hands on her elbows so that she would stop. Then, Brandon continued with a more soothing tone of voice. This was a smart move…
“Jeanette, your son needs you. Why aren’t you willing to be there for him?”
Tears start streaming from Jeanette’s face.
* * *
The Amex concierge delivery service did just as it promised. When school was over, it delivered little Jason to the manor. To their credit, they’d done their job perfectly. It was just everyone else who was screwing up. By the time Jason arrived, Jeanette was in a drunken stupor, and she was fuming in a locked room somewhere. She was far too absorbed in her own selfish concerns to notice that something was seriously up with Jason. As the Amex concierge service guy handed Jason to Brandon, he looked nervous.
“I think you should give a call to his school right away.” said the Amex guy.
“Why? What’s the matter?” Brandon said, feeling increasingly concerned as he saw that his child was visibly upset. Jason folded his arms tightly and looked at the ground. His face had streams of dried tears on each side and it was clenched in a terrible frown.
“I think he had an accident, or something.” said the Amex guy.
Since Jason refused to say a word, Brandon immediately called the school and found out all the details. Sometime after lunch, the teachers found him rocking back and forth in a corner, facing the wall. There were more kids encircling him about 10 feet away. That was about as close as they were willing to go, no further.
All of the kids let out one giant Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww in unison. Jason, who was backed into the corner from this social ostracism, was flush with humiliation. The teachers shooed the kids away and tried to get Jason cleaned up, but he fought them off ferociously. He didn’t like being touched. Not by strangers. Not by this random woman his parents left him with every day.
When one teacher tried to take his hand, he leapfrogged over her like a rabid tree dwelling creature. When another teacher stepped in, Jason bit her forearm, leaving raw teeth marks on her skin. When they ganged up on him, he shook violently like he was having an epileptic seizure… It took Jason almost an hour to get cleaned up, and by that time, school was over and it was time to go home.
Hearing this news, Brandon was aghast. My son can’t live like this. He thought. A boy shouldn’t be punished because he’s autistic. Brandon was suddenly sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that his Brandon needed more specialized care.
Brandon entered the little cave-room where Jeanette was binge-drinking. Her feet were up and she reclined her chair as far back as it would go. Her eyes were closed, perhaps because she was fighting hold down the contents of her stomach.
“Come. Drink with meeee.” she slurred.
“No, Jeanette.” Brandon said with an annoyed tone. “Do you know what happened to Jason today?”
“Oh, imsickofyourshit!” she attacked. “Th-that boy is a b-big, b-b-boy. He’ll be fineee.”
Brandon plucked the glass out of Jeanette’s hand and poured the whiskey in it onto the floor. Then he poured her bottle of whiskey on the floor. While he poured the liquor out, he kept looking Jeanette in the eye so she’d understand that he was as serious as a heart attack. Jeanette pouted in protest, and stretched her arm out longingly for her fallen liquor. When he was finished, Brandon turned toward the liquor cabinet and with an evil look in his eye, he decided that he was going to smash the whole thing. Jeanette panicked. Not her booze!
She stumbled off her recliner toward the liquor cabinet, but she slipped on the wet floor and she hopelessly tried to catch her balance. After three good attempts, Jeanette fell face-first on the floor. Brandon opened the cabinet and grabbed five bottles, then he opened a nearby window and tossed them outside. He repeated himself until there was no more alcohol in the room. Jeanette continued to watch from the floor. Feeling hopeless to stop him, Jeanette started to cry.
Brandon stooped down to get to Jeanette’s eye level. He held her by the shoulders and looked squarely in her eyes.
“You’re getting help…” he said. “And we’re getting someone to take care of Jason. I’m not going to let this get any worse.”
“Nooooooooooo.” Jeanette whimpered. “I can doo dis. Let me have a chance. I’ll sober up and take care of our son.”
As Jeanette grovelled on the floor, Brandon suddenly noticed that he had never felt less interested in his wife. He wondered if he even loved her anymore? If this were a business deal, Brandon would have been a cold hearted bastard and dropped her like a hot potato, but this was different. This was his family. He wanted to believe that Jeanette could change… and that she could be the woman he’d married in the first place. Brandon decided to grant her a second chance. It wasn’t a free chance… but it was a chance all the same.
If one more incident like this happened, Brandon determined it would be the last time he would trust his wife. This could be the end of our marriage. Brandon thought to himself. He felt sick for even having these thoughts. When he’d taken those marriage vows, he’d meant them seriously. In sickness and in health. Brandon intended to live by “til’ death do us part”, but not at the cost of his son’s health and happiness. He loved his son too much for that.
Before Jason was born, he thought instinctive parenting was just for women. But nothing could beat a father’s love for his children… Except a mother’s love. Unfortunately, Jeanette didn’t seem to be one of those mothers ingrained with a large amount of maternal instinct. Nevertheless, she was his wife.
“Get cleaned up, and take care of our son. Okay?”
He helped her up from the puddle of liquor, holding onto her tightly.
* * *
Some women like chocolate, others like gifts, both of those work quite well on Jeanette, but there was one thing above all which calmed her down most. Sex. Brandon had long learned that the best we to get Jeannette back to happy spirits would be to give her a good hard romp in the sack. All her troubles and worries melted away after an earth-shattering orgasm.
This would be easy in a different circumstance, but Brandon found Jeanette’s antics to be increasingly unattractive. His guts were still so twisted up about Jason, that he struggled to look Jeanette in the eye and pound her pussy with a warrior’s cock at the same time.
“Fuck me!” Jeanette whined. “Fuck me harder!”
Brandon flashed back to the years when his marriage was happy. He had no problem fucking her then. Now… Jeanette couldn’t do it for him. Being the billionaire businessman that he was, Brandon could see diminishing returns on his investment. His marriage had been bleeding red for years now. The only time Brandon ever whipped out his animal side, was times like this… When he had to. It’s not like he couldn’t a savage beast, he just hated doing it with Jeanette. He was too loyal to sleep with anyone else. Or too much of a pussy. Brandon thought to himself.
Brandon’s wealth, fame and good looks didn’t go unnoticed by women at large. He was constantly hit on by women everywhere he went. And those who didn’t hit on him simply stared him down, and undressed him with their eyes. Every so often, however, Brandon ran into a lady who was both stunningly attractive and also mercilessly flirtatious. He struggled the most with those women.
For example, last week he had an appointment with a Boeing representative. They sent over one Julianna Sundress. Yes, that was her real name, and although she wasn’t wearing a sundress, she looked like such a homespun pure Colombian princess that she might as well be wearing a sundress, too. She had the type beauty made guys want to get married after the third date. She smelled like dewdrops. Or at least, her smell made you want to stay cuddled up in bed, the way dewdrops on everything outside make you feel like it’s still too early to take things seriously.
Her hair was dark brown, long and wavy. It flowed all the way down to the small of her back, but this wasn’t obvious at first. Her hair was actually up in a bun with some soft looking flower stuck in it. This flower was the only playful hint of her at first. She was in full business attire, with glasses and a neutral lipstick. After a second cocktail (which came really fast) she pulled her hair down, and the bun was gone forever. Brandon couldn’t believe he was thinking about this while he was inside of his wife… But he couldn’t stop.
Over the course of the hour, his meeting with Julianna meeting was less and less about business, and more and more about Brandon’s famous hip flexor muscles. Julianna started touching Brandon whenever she spoke. I think your company should go in this direction. Touch. Adding a Boeing jet to your capital assets will save your bottom line in the long run. Touch. Aren’t you in the cover of Esquire? Touch. You’re so handsome. Touch.
The more Julianna touched him, the more confident she became. Her hands started to travel to more and more adventurous places. Her hands trembled slightly, and gripped more firmly. It was the grasp of someone who didn’t want to let go; someone who had way too much pleasure in grasping things. It reminded Brandon of when of a baby intuitively grasps onto an adult’s finger with their little baby hands. Julianna’s hands trembled more as she traveled up Brandon’s thigh. They kept chatting and Brandon didn’t stop her. Julianna’s hand traveled all the way up to his cock, and when it got there, Brandon’s cock was already rock hard and throbbing. It was so engorged that Julianna could feel his pulse pounding heavily through the engorged member.
Julianna was surprised. Perhaps not because of what she was doing, or even because Brandon was allowing her to do it, but because she could tell that Brandon’s cock wanted it so badly. She tuned into the sensations of her fingertips and noticed the large veins that she was touching. His cock was large enough that her petite hand couldn’t wrap around its entire girth. Her eyes were filled with wanton desire from this observation. She instantly wanted his cock in every orifice of her body. She pictured it in her mouth, then her pussy, and then her asshole… and then in all three holes all over again. Julianna’s hand rested on his cock for a few more moments. Brandon simply smiled and called the meeting to an end. There was no continuation. Brandon never violated any boundaries.
Upon leaving, he whispered “I’m married. Happily.” into her ear. Neither he nor she believed the words that came out of his mouth. Brandon was certainly lying through his teeth. His last whisper was more of a chance to savor her smell one last time, than to actually put up any pretense about his wife. Julianna was somewhat confused, and disappointed; she simply dithered into the background. Brandon could hardly tell what happened after that. She was just gone.
… Now, while he was fucking his wife, Brandon wished more than anything that he was fucking Julianna instead. Harder? He thought. She wants it harder? Brandon started pounding Jeanette with all of his force and might. The harder he fucked Jeanette, the more he thought of Julianna, or any other woman for that matter… he tried not to, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’m married.” He muttered to himself with The Grinch’s facial expression. “Happily.”
The smell of Jeanette’s pussy was now wafting in the air. It smelled like a desert brothel. To Brandon, it seemed like her scent was now caking over everything in the room. I think she has a yeast infection. He thought. They’re calling my son “shit boy” at school now. He thought. Why the fuck am I thinking about this right now? He thought.
Brandon’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. He couldn’t stop them. He didn’t want to. The more he thought about Jeanette, the more he wanted to think about other things. He came up with a good compromise: He fantasized about Julianna. In order to keep his focus on sweet Julianna, Brandon had to avoid making eye contact with his wife Jeanette. Her eyes were cold and hard. They were the type of eyes that soldiers came back with after they’d killed babies in Afghanistan. Brandon switched off the light, and then he went into his dreamland. He imagined Julianna’s dew drop smell. He imagined sniffing her neck and then bite just a little bit too hard.
He saw himself sucking her soft rouge lips, and then teasing her tongue. He pictured himself grabbing a tuft of her flowing brown hair and yanked on it like a savage; even growling a little bit. Brandon would guide her head down to his monstrous cock, and Julianna would glide her hands over his chest, his nipples, his abdominals, and his famous hip flexors… all the way down to jackpot. When she would try to suck his cock, she would struggle and gag. It would be too difficult to fit the whole thing in. In his fantasy, she was soft in every way; even in her voice. She would moan and squeal just a bit. His cock would be a challenge, but she was a trooper. A soft trooper.
Brandon pulled himself out of his fantasy lightly; just barely. He noticed that in his fantasy, he didn’t come in her mouth. No… When he came close to the point of no return, he’d stick his fat cock in her pussy. Her flowery noises would be like a bluejay’s morning whistle. Her pussy clenched. She was coming, and so was he. Brandon would keep squirting inside of her until her pussy was full; until she was pregnant.
Brandon came back to reality and saw his wife’s cold black eyes again. He looked down and saw that he’d ejaculated. He couldn’t tell if she was happy about it or not. Either way, he was finished. Thank God. Now that Jeanette had been placated, Brandon pushed all of the thoughts of Julianna, his company, and everything else out of his mind. He was now refocused on the one thing that was most important to him: his son.
Jason was now fast asleep in his bed, but he’d had the worst day of his life. Brandon was now faced with a serious dilemma of what to do about it… He watched his sleeping son and said a little prayer over his sleeping body. It was silly. Brandon hadn’t prayed in years. But it was all he could do to keep from crying. He was supposed to protect his son, and he’d all but failed to do so. A prayer couldn’t hurt.
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