Mother’s Black Book, Church Gurlz 1
By H. H. Fowler
Jasmine Benton gazed into the grey eyes of her pastor’s son. Two perfect ovals so bright with innocence that Jasmine became besotted with them. With a creamy shade that evenly coated his hairless complexion, Wynton Lakatos came as close to any Caucasian boy Jasmine had ever encountered. For a sixteen-year-old stud, he was painfully attractive. She used the tips of her fingers to trace the outline of his naturally flushed lips, loving the supple feel of his flesh. She inhaled his maleness and allowed it to permeate her senses. If there had ever been a boy that Jasmine wanted to be with, it was Wynton Lakatos.
Jasmine whispered, her moist lips brushing against Wynton’s chest, “I would be stupid to believe that I was the first girl that you had ever been with.” Wynton grinned and then chucked a mischievous question at her. “Would that bug you if I had been with someone else?”
“Not in the least. I don’t care if it is your first time or not. I just need to know that I’m the only one that you’re sleeping with now.”
Those giddy girls in their youth group simply probed for the 411 on his sex life, but Jasmine wanted reassurance. Wynton interpreted that as exclusivity, which was a heavy mantle to toss around a sixteen-year-old. As alluring as Jasmine Benton was – with her thick ebony ringlets, he would not allow her to seduce him into saying or doing something he was not ready for. There was a stream of girls waiting in line for his attention. Why would he constrict his taste to just a few?
He jokingly told Jasmine, “My Daddy didn’t raise me to be no player. Now if you gonna waste the next ten minutes trying to check out my stats, let me warn you, I’m losing interest already…”
Jasmine smacked Wynton’s chest playfully. “You obnoxious white boy!”
“It’s one of the reasons you chased after me,” Wynton quipped. “I’m something that you’ve never had.”
“Oh, please!”
Wynton’s smug attitude only made him more irresistible. Jasmine locked Wynton’s arms behind his head as if to punish him for his ‘rudeness’, but the impious way that he stared, caused her to lose control of her hormones. She swooped down and eagerly attacked his lips.
Wynton stopped her. “Whoa, girl, my lips will be sore in the morning,” he chuckled.
“Take it easy. I know they’re succulent, but –”
“Shut up! You know you are just a tease…”
Wynton’s smirk conveyed his deeply held opinions, in that he believed it was easier for a girl to become more emotionally attached than it was for a dude. Wynton knew that sex was a powerful connection, but he did not intend for it to lead him into early fatherhood. He stopped Jasmine again.
“Rubbers…I didn’t bring any.”
“We did it before without one,” Jasmine groaned. “I won’t get pregnant.”
“You sure?”
Genre: Romance Books
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H. H. Fowler
H H Fowler is the author of more than 35 novels, including the Church Boyz and Church Gurlz series. He lives in the Bahamas and enjoys spending time with his family.
About the author
Conceived in the chills of Switzerland, my parents journeyed back home to the Bahamas where I was born and reared a Caribbean product. A cosmopolitan at heart, my interest in the power of writing was ignited at the impressionable age of thirteen.
I am an ardent reader and also a prolific writer of more than thirty-five (35) novels, and several plays, including, “Papa John Dun Dead” and “The Papa John Family pilot”. He is the 2006 recipient of the Cacique Award, songwriter of the year, for one of the most requested songs at that time, “More Wind, More Fire”. The song also won the People’s Choice Award.
I have successfully obtained a bachelor’s degree in Operational Management from Remington College, Tampa Florida, and an Associate Degree in Biblical Studies from North Carolina College of Theology. Currently, he serves as VP of G .O. Fowler Apostolic Academy and Head of the Youth Department of the Final Hour Global Ministries – where I strive to enhance the lives of those connected to me.
I am married to Andrea Natasha Fowler and together, we are the proud parents of one son and three daughters.
H. H. Fowler
