Chapter 16 Don’t Look Back In Anger. #2
I turn on my t.v. as I ponder the thought. Maybe my favorite gaming channels will take my mind off it. Sidemen?Markiplier? (With his fine ass) Saylor Xen? Ebonix? RDCGaming? (Another fine ass Mark) ChelseaBytes? KSI? theRadBrad?
Brad did just release a video… and his voice is so soothing… I click on it and let my thoughts run for hours, taking me under before I can help it.
I’m half-asleep when the knock comes.
Three sharp taps against my door like whoever’s on the other side knows I’m awake.
My eyes fly open. My phone lights up on the bedside table at the exact same time.
Jankro Jabari : open the door.
My stomach flips.
“No way,” I whisper, already swinging my legs off the bed.
I walked down the hallway, heart thudding so loud it feels like it’s echoing off the walls.
How long has it been?
The stove says 15:43. Another impatient knock. I jump as it sounds like banging.
I scurry to the fridge with a grin on my face, “This better work.”
My face twists as I shove a serving of sea moss down my throat. Eyuckkk!
I straighten, fill a glass with water and rinse my mouth of the taste.
“Francine!”
Alright, alright! I’m coming!
I don’t bother checking the peephole. I just open the door and he fills the frame.
Tracksuit, hood up, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, breath still heavy as if he moved fast to get here. His eyes lock onto mine instantly, like he’s been imagining this moment the entire journey.
“You actually came,” I say, stupidly.
He steps inside without answering, toeing the door shut behind him. The flat feels smaller the second he’s in it.
“I told you I would,” he says quietly.
I cross my arms, trying very hard not to smile. “You’re mad.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, I’m fucking mad Francine.”
Oh, government name.
“I’d ask why but I think it’s pretty clear.”
“You better not have a nigga in here.”
I scoff, stepping aside. “And if I do?”
He drops his bag by the door.
That makes me jump.
“You think you’re so funny right?” He steps closer.
Our eyes meet again.
“I like to think I’m quite hilarious actually.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.” He looks around the room like he’s trying to find something. Fucking hell, he really thinks I have a nigga in here.
“You keep playing with me, and I’m fed up.” He reaches out, hesitates like he’s waiting for permission this time. When I don’t react, his hand goes to my neck and squeezes lightly. “I could choke you out for the shit you put me through the last few hours.”
Oh?
“Then do it,” I push.
“Tuh, the last time I was rough with you, your fragile arse broke.”
HEY!
“Ay! Who you calling bloodclaat fragile?”
“You,” he squeezes tighter. “The last time I gave you this dick, you kicked me out so I couldn’t see you crack. But before that I had you squirting off head alone.”
My nipples got hard. “So what?”
Tighter.
“So what?” he repeats. “You think anybody else could do that? You think a rando can give you what only I can?” Tighter.
“What’s the matter, Frankie? Hurt yourself last time so you had to go back to something safer?
”—I’m gagging at this point, mouth open and everything—“Couldn’t handle the rollercoaster so you went back to training wheels. Pathetic.”
And he let me go.
Woah.
I don’t say anything. Neither did he. He just turns and walks toward my bedroom and I follow with a million thoughts in my mind and none of them pure. Was he always this… what word am I looking for?
Obsessive? Or passionate?
Hard to say. But all I know is the sea moss was a good idea because that little display made me a fountain.
After he looks around my room, still trying to find signs I had another man in here, he settles.
“I’m gonna shower,” Jabari announces casually.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I glance at the clock on my phone, then back at him. “It’s already four. Za gets in around five. There’s no time.”
He stares at me like I’m being deeply unreasonable.
“I just got off a fully booked flight I paid way too much money for,” he says slowly, counting on his fingers, “after a game I barely won because I spent the entire second half thinking about you letting some idiot into your bed ‘cause you’re lonely. My feet hurt. I’m sweaty. And I need a shower.”
I roll my eyes as he brushes past me toward the bathroom, basically saying this discussion is over.
“You coming?” he asks over his shoulder.
“No,” I say flatly. “I showered before my link-up like a civilised person.”
“Right,” he replies. “Well then, do us a favour and grab my bag, yeah?”
“Get it yourself.”
He laughs low and shuts the bathroom door.
Ugh. Prick.
I stand stubbornly in place, listening in. No water turns on. No movement.
Then—
“The longer you take,” his voice calls through the door, “the more time runs out. What time does Za come home again? Want her to catch me between your legs?”
I grit my teeth.
“Ugh! I hate you, I swear.”
I stomp away and grab his bag from the front doorway, returning to the room and knocking sharply on the bathroom door. It cracks open just enough for me to slide it through but then his hand wraps around my wrist and before I can react, he pulls me inside.
The door shuts and the lock clicks.
“We’re showering,” he says simply.
He turns away from me, peeling off layers of clothing without a shred of urgency. From his bag, he pulls out a neatly labelled shower kit, setting it on the counter.
He looks at me through the vanity mirror. “Nothing to say?”
“You called me pathetic, remember?” I try to shield my eyes to convey my annoyance. “Why do you want a pathetic woman talking to you?”
“I don’t know, why did you ask a man you hate into your bed? Again?”
“The better question is why did you come?”
For the first time since he got here, he cracked a laugh. “I don’t know myself.”
I peep through my eye cover and watch him continue his ritual. I don’t mean to stare. But when his briefs drop, so does my gaze.
“Oh,” he says lightly, catching it. “Now you wanna look? You were quick enough to dismiss my video.”
He turns on the water, steam already beginning to fog the mirror.
“Like I said,” I mutter, “it was quiet.”
“You try recording anything,” he replies, stepping into the shower, “in a bathroom stall during a fifteen-minute halftime. All while your team mates are in and out.”
I stand closer, so close that the mist of the shower sprays my face.
“Not my problem.”
“Right.” The water starts running over his chest. “Just get in.”
And just like that, any sense I had left disappears. Along with my clothes.
The water is hot, so hot steam fills the room instantly but he just goes about his business. It doesn’t matter to me because all I do is watch, like an awkward little perv.
“Sooo,” I try. “How was your game?”
Ugh. What is wrong with me? Why am I so off my game? And why—WHY? Why the hell am I so nervous?
“Game was fine. We won but it could’ve been better.”
And that’s it.
“Good. Good,” I’m practically shaking with nerves. “So… you like football then?”
OH MY GOD!
He pauses. “Do I like football?”—WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?— “You hit your head or something?”
“Must’ve.”—I hate my life.— “I’m gonna go now. Enjoy your shower!”
I barely make it out before the water cuts. “Francine.”
I freeze. “Yes?”
“Come here.”
Slowly, I approach him. With the steam settling around us, it feels like a scene from a movie.
“You nervous, Jelly?” He asks.
I just look down, trying to avoid the elephant, and its ’trunk’ in the room.
“No. Just a bit dizzy.”
“You think I’m gonna hurt you?”
Okay, this is getting a bit ridiculous now. He’s babying me at this point. So I look him straight in the eye.
“You think wayyy too highly of yourself, blud.”
He smiles. “There she is.”
My heart sinks.
Before I could process anything, he scoops me up. “I can’t lie, Jelly I was scared you went soft on me.”
My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me out the bathroom.
“When I saw you tense up after I choked you, I thought wow. Maybe I took it too far but you pulled through.”
My arms secure on his neck as I relax a bit. “Yeah, yeah. Just do what you came here to do.”
He stops in his tracks, looking down at me like he had a stroke of genius.
“You’re right.” He backs us up to the doorpost until my back presses into the wood. “Enough talking.”
I feel him adjust briefly while moving to hold me up by the palm of his hands on my arse.
Nothing else was said as he slid in.
Not gonna lie. I feel it deep in my stomach when he goes in.
“Fuckkk Jelly,” he drags in a rumble I feel against my chest. “I missed this so much.”
I can’t even respond because I’m too busy focusing on not convulsing. In all honesty, I have no business fucking this man for a plethora of reasons but the only one I can think of right now is his size. And he’s making it his mission to make sure I feel every inch.
“You good?” He asks as I adjust.
“Is that all?” I counter knowing damn well more would kill me. He grins like he knows I’m full of shit yet wants to see how far I’ll take it.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
That sentence pisses me off. How dare he throw one of the only times a man has ever caught me off guard in bed against me?
It’s slander against my name!
Now, it’s my turn to grab his throat and squeeze.
“Oh?” He finds inches to bury deeper. “That’s what we’re doing?”
I give no release. Instead I start gliding on it. Using all my strength to move while keeping myself upright. He decided the best way to cope is by driving it deeper, hoping to make me cry out. It works.
“Fuck!” I squeeze harder. “This all ya got?”
“All for you, baby.”
And he lifts and slams me into him. Repeatedly. Like I weigh nothing. My head goes back as I enjoy the ride, letting him take full advantage of every inch of me.
He enjoys it a bit too much cause now he’s moving around the room with me.
It feels like we’re Jodi’s mum and Melvin from that scene in ‘Baby Boy’.
I’m loud too. Saying things I don’t even understand as I squeeze the life out of his neck.