TITLE    : Ripples in a Cuckolds Pond Ch. 05
STORYID  : ripples-in-a-cuckolds-pond-ch-05
SUMMARY  : Nicole explores being a Queen of Spades.
AUTHOR   : JayCuck@lit
DATE     : 2015-12-21
CATEGORY : interracial-erotic-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |queen of spades|cuckold|hotwife|dom|bull|girlfriend|cuck|


<i>I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read this series. I especially want to thank those of you who have emailed me and/or provided feedback. I really do appreciate it and I hope you enjoy this new direction. 

This series doesn't have as much sex as previous stories. The plot is becoming more complex and it's harder to work credible sex scenes into the storyline. 

Troll Alert (Trigger Warning - if you're so sensitive you need it): If you don't like cuckold/hotwife stories you won't like this one. Save your energy, righteous indignation, and ugly comments for another story. </i>



The night air felt good on my face as walked through the exit doors. I stopped when I didn't see Nicole. I walked towards the side of the restaurant, where the main parking lot stood full, and caught sight of them. They were standing next to a nice BMW. 

Kissing. 

The contrast in their skin colors seemed even more stark under the moon light. DeMarco had his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him, while he pressed his mouth against hers. My wife had one of her calves raised, almost like a postcard picture, as she ran her hands over his back. Maybe she didn't intend for this to happen tonight, but I could tell she loved being in his arms. 

Queen of Spades. Any black man could have her. 

Anger, frustration, irritation, and sadness all competed for dominance in my body. A swirling, complex cyclone of emotions. Anger won. 

I gritted my teeth and flexed my hands several times, before I found enough control to speak. 

"Nicole!" 

My shout was deliberately louder than necessary to get her attention. Not a little louder....a lot louder. Patrons entering and leaving the restaurant paused and turned in my direction. My wife sprang back from DeMarco and covered her face for a second, before she smoothed her clothes. 

"I paid the bill. I'm leaving."

Once again my voice was plenty loud enough for passersby to hear me clearly. Maybe I was overdoing it, but I wanted to inflict a little distress of my own. Turnabout is fair play, or something like that...

"Nick, wait-."

"Good night!"

I turned and started walking towards my car. The fast-paced clicking of her high heels followed me. 

"Wait. Let me explain."

I glanced over my shoulder. "Go away, Nikki."

"Nick! Stop, please."

She finally caught up with me and grabbed my arm. "Wait. Please, just wait."

"What!" I pulled my arm away and stepped back. 

"I'm sorry, David-"

"You mean your pimp."

I hated myself for saying it, but anger got the best of me. Her eyes widened at my response, and then tears formed until her eyes glistened with them. She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. 

"No. Please, don't say that."

"Whatever," I replied. "Have a nice night."

"It's a game, just a game-."

"I'm not playing, Nikki." 

DeMarco had held back initially, probably thinking it would be a quick conversation, but as Nicole pleaded with me he stepped towards us. I kept an eye on him as he approached. 

"I'll call David. I'll straighten it out." She reached for me again, but I stepped back. "We can go somewhere else for dinner."

"Forget it," I replied with a laugh. "Tonight is over."

Her eyes switched from pleading to angry in the space of a heartbeat. "Going to see your slut?"

"Look who's talking!" I spat back, and then gave her a once-over "What's your rate for the night? Or are you charging by the hour? Or by the guy?"

DeMarco's growl split the night. "Motherfucker!" 

"No! DeMarco! No!"

Nicole spun towards him and put her arms on his chest, but he wasn't listening. He brushed her aside without stopping. She stumbled, lost her balance and fell to the pavement. A cry of pain escaped her as she hit the hard surface. 

Anger and rage shot out of DeMarco's eyes, as he took a lumbering step towards me. He balled his hands into fists, and let loose with a straight right cross.

I slipped underneath his haymaker, and slammed two punches into his ribcage. He'd been off balance when he threw the punch, and I made him pay for it. His gasp of pain was the most beautiful sound of the night, and before he could recover, I side-stepped and slammed my foot into the side of his knee. DeMarco crumpled to the pavement, his fall both awkward and painful. He rolled over, pushed himself back up, and limped towards me. 

"Lucky fucking shot," he hissed. 

More careful now, he used his reach to jab at my head. I backed away, bobbing and weaving with my hands up, thanking my mixed martial arts instructor for not going easy on me. I took several punches against my hands, and one against my ear-that fucking hurt!-before I slipped inside again and let loose several punches to his midsection. 

He pushed me away, but I knew I'd hurt him. His breath came in gasps now, and he winced several times as he circled. 

"C'mon, we ain' done here."

I feinted left, ducked right, and came up a hard right hook that connected beautifully. His head snapped back, and he stumbled back a two steps before his knee gave out and he fell into some bushes against the restaurant wall. 

I backed away and checked on Nicole. 

She sat on the pavement, her knee scraped and bleeding, and her dress smudged with parking lot grease. Tears streamed down her face and her shoulders shook from crying. 

"Nikki."

She shook her head, but wouldn't look at me. Just as I started to kneel down, sirens and flashing lights lit the parking lot. DeMarco's friends finally made an appearance. They swarmed out of the restaurant and sprinted over to his side. Within seconds, restaurant patrons filled the immediate area and gathered to watch the spectacle. 

Another police car arrived. 

More lights. More spectators

Pandemonium. 

Officers appeared and went to work. All three of us were separated. A female officer spoke to Nicole, while I got a crusty old veteran with a roadmap face of wrinkles. I couldn't see DeMarco, but truthfully, I didn't look that hard. A few spare officers moved the crowd back inside, but held back the witnesses and started asking them questions. 

The police officer took my statement. It was verified by about a dozen witnesses, and he mumbled something about 'mutual combat' before he told me I was free to go. I mentioned speaking to Nicole, but he shook his head and told me to go home. 

An ambulance arrived. 

I wasn't happy DeMarco was the one inside the ambulance, truly I wasn't, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't gratified. He'd walk with a limp for several weeks, and I didn't have a scratch on me. A bruise or two maybe, but I wasn't bleeding and I damn sure wasn't getting into an ambulance.

Men or boys, we really never go far from the playground. 

Nicole was escorted to her car by the female officer, and she left without a word. I checked my phone. Nothing. 

As I drove away, I dialed Cassidy. 

"Where are you?"

"Sorry. I can't come over."

"What? Why?"

I told her. 

Then I told her again. 

"Wait!" She interrupted me as I started the story for a third time. "You beat up a guy?"

"Not on purpose."

"How does that happen by accident?"

I chuckled. "I mean I didn't intend to fight him. He threw the first punch."

"Mmmmm, now I'm turned on. Come over for a quickie."

"Stop," I chided her. "I'm heading home. I don't know where my wife is, and I can't leave the kids by themselves."

