Thirty-Seven
THIRTY-SEVEN
SOLEIL
Dahlia helps Malik wrap white twinkle lights around the columns on our front porch, while I drape a net over the bushes. The outdoor Christmas decorations are completely over the top, but Malik just couldn’t say no to Dahlia and all of her “great ideas”.
The worst of it is that the little con woman was able to talk him into decorating his house with equal flair so that she wouldn’t miss all the lights when we have sleepovers with him, even though we spend most of the time at mine.
Malik says it’s because he likes that Dahlia has her own room and toys here in case she gets lonely and needs something familiar.
“Be very careful plugging that in, Dahlia,” he tells her from where he stands at the top of the ladder.
“I know. Just like you taught me. Nice and slow.” Her tongue sticks out as she lines up the prongs with the outlet and pushes it in.
The lights come to life and Dahlia jumps up, clapping and cheering.
“Look mama,” she shouts.
“I see, little dove. It’s perfect. And very bright.” I shield my eyes from the 10,000 watt lights that drip from every surface of my house.
Malik’s smile is huge and I don’t know who is more excited about this; him or Dahlia. I guess he never had this kind of holiday joy when he was a kid. He told me that the foster homes he bounced between weren’t always the best and many times, the families were poor themselves. So over the top Christmas decorations weren't something he got to experience.
I turn my attention back to arranging the netted lights and squint when I see something lying on the mulch. I reach down and come away with a black leather glove, much like the ones Malik wears when he rides his bike.
“Malik,” I call out to him. When he looks at me, I lift the glove up in the air. “This was in the bushes. Is it yours?”
His eyes blink a few times as he slowly climbs down the ladder.
“I don’t–I don’t think so.” He walks to me cautiously, examining the glove as he nears.
“Why would a random glove be in my bushes below a window that looks into my house?” My heart begins to race with fear and I press my hand to my chest.
Is someone watching me? Was I right thinking a stranger was in my house that night, months ago? I start to shake and Malik pulls me to his hard chest.
He takes the glove from my hand and presses my head to him. “You know, it is mine. I must have dropped it and somehow it found its way into the bushes. Probably the wind.”
“Are you sure? Malik…what if someone is watching us. When you’re not here, someone could break in and–and–” Panic sets in and I get dizzy, feeling like I can’t breathe.
“Mommy? Are you okay?” Dahlia’s voice is drenched in worry as she finally notices the two of us.
“Sweetheart, could you go get mommy some water? I think maybe she’s thirsty and needs a break.” Malik tucks me further into his hold and pats the top of Dahlia’s beanie covered head.
She nods and skips off inside.
“Baby, it’s okay. I need you to just breathe slowly and look at me.” He takes my chin in his hand and lifts. “It’s mine. I didn’t recognize it at first. I have so many pairs of gloves that I didn’t even realize it was missing. No one is breaking in. You have the alarm and the cameras and I can log into them anytime and check footage to be certain.”
Hot tears burn as they run down my cold cheeks. I want to believe him, I do, but right now all I can think about is harm coming to my daughter. Maybe the irking suspicion of being watched isn’t misplaced.
The door slams shut and Dahlia hops down the front porch steps. “Here, Mommy. Decorating is a tough job. Maybe you should rest and me and Malik will take care of it.”
Shehands me a water bottle and hugs my leg. With me still in Malik’s arms and my daughter wrapped around me, I feel the tension in my body slow roll away.
He’s right. I triple check my doors every night, the alarm gets set before bed, and every window and door has a sensor that will beep if any of them are opened. If someone is going to try and break-in, the police and Malik will be here before they can close the door behind them.
My hand continues to tremble as the last of the adrenaline drains. Malik’s thumb rubs across my cheeks and when I pull the bottle away from my lips, he takes its place, kissing me gently, reassuringly. He licks the salt of my tears away, and everything just settles with his touch. My heart, my mind, they both stop racing just like they always do when he’s near.
“Better?” he asks when he pulls away.
With a nod and I sigh, I swipe my wet lashes. “I’m sorry. I just kind of panicked.”
“Don’t apologize, baby. Just know that I’ve got you. I’ll never let anything hurt you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper and kiss the palm of his hand, then press it to his chest where his heart beats beneath.
“What do you say we cuddle in for the night? It’s going to be dark soon, so we’ll finish tomorrow. Does that sound good, Dahlia Rose?”
“Can we watch Rapunzel?” She asks him, and while I hear a low groan that tells me he’s on his last nerve with that movie, he nods to Dahlia with a smile. “Yes! I’ll get the popcorn out. And we need hot chocolate.”
Her words blow away on a breeze as she scurries back inside.
“Honey, we don’t need to watch that again,” I tell him. “It’s okay to say no to her, sometimes.”
With a gasp he says, “Never. If she wants to watch Rapunzel for the nine hundred and eighty-seventh time, that’s exactly what we’ll do. Go on. Get inside and I’ll clean up.”
He smacks my butt and pushes me in the direction of the front door without another word. After he’s packed up the boxes, and the hot cocoa has been made, we snuggle on the couch and sing along to every song that we’ve memorized by now. I smile watching him and Dahlia acting out Rapunzel and Flynn, and wonder how I could be so lucky.
A man like him only comes around once in a lifetime.
His hand clamps over my mouth so tightly, I have no choice but to swallow my screams. My legs are weak and I’m ready to tap out. I can’t possibly endure one more orgasm. It’s like he’s trying to fuck me into a coma. And if that’s the case, I’m about there.
Malik stands behind me as I hang off the bed, my toes touching the floor. My body is bent over the edge of the bed and I fist the sheets in my hands. He keeps his hand securely onmy mouth while the other tugs on my hair, using it like a rein as he pumps faster and harder.
I come apart at the seams, my body throwing in the towel at trying to fight it off, and an orgasm rocks through me. White flashes of light spark behind my lids just as Malik slams into me with two deep thrusts before pouring his orgasm into me. The feeling in my arms begins to tingle while my fingers feel numb from the white knuckle grip on the sheets.
When his hand falls limp from my mouth, I fall to the bed and huff in and out. His large, warm body drapes over mine, but his dick still stays firmly planted in me. I loosen my hold on the sheets and manage to swing my arm around to pat his bare ass.
“Baby, I can’t move. I think my spine fell out because my back doesn’t work.” He groans into my neck that’s drenched with sweat.
“That is of your own making, buddy. I just wanted to watch a movie with you. You’re the one who was digging into my back with your schlong.”
“Schlong? Doll face, please don’t call my dick a schlong.” He pushes up and slides his hands down my sides until he reaches my waist.
He helps me to my feet, one hand on my hip and the other on my boob because apparently, it also serves as a handle. He moves his hand around to my belly that he splays his finger over, then crawls them to my still throbbing pussy.He plays between my seam, spreading our mixed release.
“I need a shower,” I tell him, but he only tightens his hold on me.
“No. I love smelling us all over your body. It’s my favorite scent. Wait here.” He leaves me standing at the foot of my bed while he hustles to the bathroom.
When he returns, a warm washcloth smooths over my core, cleaning me with tenderness and attention.
“I still need to use the restroom, honey.” He sighs and I move past him.
Walking away, I look over my shoulder and find him standing there in all of his naked glory. His body is a gift and I always take time to appreciate it. And just like he often does, he watches my every move. His eyes are always tracing my steps, observing my mannerisms, and taking note of my likes and dislikes.
Unlike the feeling I’ve had as of late, his stare makes me feel safe and treasured. It brings me a comfort that I long for and not sure that I ever truly had.
I step back into the room and find him lying in bed, the sheet pulled back just waiting for me to climb in. Tucking myself into his crook, I melt in his arms.
“I love watching you sleep,” he whispers. “The little movements your body makes and the smiles that let me know you dream of happiness.”
Rolling over, I come face to face with him and my eyes find his gray ones in the dark.
“You watch me sleep?” He nods. “Why?”
His fingers comb through my messy strands and he searches my face. “I can’t help it. I’m obsessed with you. I have this need to know where you are and what you’re doing at all times. My desire to soak in every minute, every detail, is overwhelming sometimes. But I guess that’s just part of being in love with someone.”
“Malik,” I push out of his arms, putting some much needed distance between us. “I’m in love with you, but love doesn’t not equal obsession. Obsession is unhealthy and never leads to anything good.”
“Maybe you’ve just never been truly in love or loved . If you had, then you’d understand the feeling, the need to watch your every step. I want to know what your face looks like when I’m not here to put a smile on it. Is it as big and bright, or am I the lucky guy who gets to be the one to see that radiance?” He reaches for my hand but I pull it away.
“Do you…do you follow me?” An eerie feeling settles in my stomach thinking about his words.
“Let me explain. I don’t do it with nefarious intentions. And it’s more like I just happen tosee you out or-or–”
“Stop.” I hold up my hand to silence him. “Just stop, Malik. You realize that you sound crazy, right now. Sane people do not stalk others.”
He jack-knifes up in bed and flips on the lamp. “Whoa. Wait a minute. I am not stalking you. I’m just concerned about you. Especially after the whole Wesley thing and the possibility of someone being in your home. I’m only trying to make sure you and Dahlia are safe.”
“Where have you followed me to?” He swallows and looks at me nervously. “Where, Malik?”
“It was only a couple of times. Just to the grocery store and the park. But only because there are so many people around. Ihad to be sure that Wesley or some weirdo didn’t pop up. What if you’re at the park and someone tries to hurt Dahlia? What if they try to take her? I need to be there to stop them. Soleil,” he grows quiet and his face pales like I’ve never seen before. “I don’t think you understand. If anything ever happened to the two of you, I couldn’t…I couldn’t live with myself.”
My heart beat is thundering in my ears, so maybe I’m not hearing what I think I did. “You watch us at the park?”
“Yes, but–” I jump out of the bed and take step after step away from him. “Don’t do that. Please don’t run away from me.”
“I just need a minute.” I grab his t-shirt that is thrown on the floor and tug it over my head.
“Where are you going?” The concern drips from his voice.
“To get some air. Please don’t follow me. I need to be alone.”
I give him one last look, his chest heaving and his face painted with worry, before grabbing a coat from the hall closet and stepping out back.
The air is damp and bone chilling, but I feel like I’m on fire. Anger, fear, violation all boils through my veins. How could he do this? All this time I felt like eyes followed my every step, a stranger lurking in the shadows. Instead the man I sought comfort in is the one bringing me unease, making me think I’m losing my mind.
But can it be that the reason I feel so safe and protected is because he watches? Maybe he sensed that I needed to be someone’s concern for once. Could it be that he was only responding to a feeling that he recognized? A feeling of needing to be cherished when others seemed to pass us by. The way Gene looked right past me and at another woman.
And the way family after family passed over Malik when all he wanted was someone to claim him as their own. Someone to look out for him and shelter him from the storms.
How can I fault him for just wanting to be loved?