Chapter 18
AURORA
I knew Jay was a mistake before he even sat down.
For starters, he was late.
Why the hell would he be late when he was supposed to be impressing me?
That was strike one.
Strike two was when I realized he didn't think he was supposed to be impressing me. He thought, for whatever godforsaken reason, I was supposed to be performing for him, which was the furthest thing from the truth for my interests, personally.
Had I put on one of the best fuck me dress-and-shoes combos in my closet?
Yes.
Had I gotten my nails and toes freshly done?
Yes.
Sew-in and leave-out touched up?
Yes.
Did I have any plans, even in the slightest, of actually fucking this man?
Hell no.
But it had been exciting to think about the prospect, talking myself out of it, or hell, maybe into it, because we just clicked so well, had amazing chemistry. I wanted to have a good time, wanted the most of my free agent experience.
But it was quite clear from his arrogance and the questions he asked… Jay was not it.
"So, you got a little app I think they said? You look good for a nerd. Your old nigga bought you that necklace? You trying to pick up a new sponsor?"
Etcetera.
Etcetera.
He was trying to gauge just how much of a favor he was doing me by being on this date, and probably thinking pussy was going to be returning that favor.
The only reason I hadn't put an end to it already was because if we cut the date short and I went home, I'd be bored.
I had to give it to Jay. His sheer corniness and inflated opinion of himself was actually quite entertaining. In the midst of answering his questions, ridiculously, and asking a few of our own, Sierra and I were clearly making fun of his ass, but he hadn't caught on.
Kev had though, and was enjoying himself too, laughing at this man's expense.
If he were just corny but also a decent dude, we wouldn't have been doing that to him, but he was clearly an asshole.
But this was my bad.
When Sierra pulled up a group picture of the Brawlers, pointed out the single ones, and asked me which one I wanted, I picked Jay.
’Cause he was fine as hell.
She’d said, "Uh-uh, not him. He's annoying."
My response?
"No, set it up. I can fix him."
There was no fixing that man.
And leaving me with him at the bar after dinner was Sierra’s way of being funny.
Security at Rendezvous was very tight, and I had a way home that didn’t involve Jay, so she knew I wasn't going to come to any harm.
Sierra was staunchly Team Tatum, even in the midst of cussing up a storm about him downplaying our relationship —my take, not hers—because she was staunchly Team Rori as well.
I guess she wanted me to understand just how pissy the dating pool really was.
When Tatum showed up, it damn near felt like a rescue mission had just touched down.
Had Sierra planned that?
Told him where I was?
Who cared.
Thank goodness he was here to save me.
Then I remembered I was supposed to be mad at him.
Which was actually kind of hard in the face of: "You want me and I want you, so we're going to be together."
It was the truth.
It was so simple.
“Okay.”
That acquiescence rolled out of my mouth before I could even think about it that hard. Maybe because, really, it was the conclusion my heart had already arrived at, without any feedback from me.
I had reason upon reason to reject the idea of being with Tatum in any type of serious or official manner, but none of those reasons changed the fact that it was absolutely what I wanted.
"Okay?" he repeated, face stretched in confusion. "Just that easily, huh?"
"Yeah,” I agreed. “Okay."
"So you had me stressed out for what, crazy ass girl," he said, reaching to cuff the back of my neck, pulling me in for a publicly inappropriate kiss. Tongued me down right there at the bar, like he was trying to make a point.
And I was letting him make his point, too.
But we still needed to talk.
He made a pit stop to use the restroom since he’d been dealing with the airport for an obscene amount of time. I expected us to get a car, go back to my apartment, but when he came back… he had a room key.
The elevator ride up was quiet.
“Why did you do this?” he asked, pulling me into him just on the other side of the door.
His grip was firm, and warm, and damn if I didn’t feel right at home.
“Do what?” I muttered, more focused on his hand creeping past my hip to slip under my dress than on his words.
“Entertain that nigga.” A grin parted my lips as his fingers parted my others, sliding inside of me with no resistance. “Excuse me, entertaining that nigga with no panties on,” he corrected, his tone shifting with that realization. He grabbed the back of my head, angling my face to his. “Why are you playing with me like this?”
“It had nothing to do with you,” I told him, honestly, which wasn’t the easiest feat with him fucking me with two thick fingers, his thumb pressed to my clit. “It was about me.”
“What if I said that if it’s about you, it is about me?” he asked, his lips brushing mine as he moved his fingers deeper, faster.
“That’s not what you implied in that interview.”
“Fuck that interview.”
“I know,” I whimpered as my focus slipped, inescapably drawn to the arousal, the stimulation of what his hand was doing between my legs. “I just… I can’t be all in with someone who isn’t all in with me.”
His hand stopped, eyes locked with mine.
“You said you weren’t interested in that,” I told him. “So if you’re telling me something different now, telling me something has changed… I need you to mean it.”
I wasn’t sure I’d survive anything else.
I didn’t say that part though.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Tatum spoke up.
Now, he completely removed his hand, moved away from me.
To grab a nearby parsons chair.
To sit me down.
Kneel in front of me.
Spread my legs open wide.
He started at my knee, planting soft kisses interspersed with long, lazy licks. My breath caught in my throat as I watched, riveted, as he made his way up one thigh. In the middle, he teased me with a slow tongue kiss on my clit, then made his way back down the other side.
Was this my punishment?
Being tortured with the pleasure of his hands gently gliding up my calves, my thighs, the pads of his fingers gripping into my flesh as he played with me with his tongue?
He pushed his face between my legs, breathing me in, nose pressed to my clit as he spread me open, dipped his head to lick me there before coming up to tease my clit with his tongue.
I was right on the verge of protest when he covered my clit with his mouth, suckling as his tongue moved, undulating against my sensitive bud.
It was like a lightning strike of pleasure that had me gripping his head, gripping the sides of the chair, trying desperately to hold on to anything to keep myself grounded.
And he went harder still.
Fingers embedded deep, mouth latched in place, flicking and humming and driving me insane.
He kept the pressure right there, his fingers right there, his tongue right there, looking me dead in the face as he pushed me over the edge of pleasure.
I was barely finished cumming before he was up on his knees in front of the chair, pants undone.
My dress was already hiked around my hips, legs inoperable and open, welcoming him inside me.
And that was exactly where he went, burying his dick inside me so hard, so fast, I felt the slap of his balls as our hips met.
Again and again and again.
No buildup necessary.
I was soaked, and he was hard.
Perfect conditions for fast, deep strokes that had me hanging onto his shoulders, hooking my legs around his hips, mouth open, moaning with every stroke.
His fingers dug into the nape of my neck, gripping me there and pulling me in so he could bury his tongue in my mouth as he stroked.
And stroked.
And stroked.
“This feel like just vibing to you?” he asked against my mouth, buried unfairly deep inside me. He didn’t leave any room for me to give an answer beyond a mumbled mmm-nmmh as I squirmed against him.
He already knew the answer.
He was making sure we were on one accord, making sure I understood there was intention in every stroke, every flick of his fingers, his tongue.
His grip on my neck tightened as he pushed deeper still, grounding me in the moment as our eyes met and held.
Yeah.
I understood exactly what was happening, exactly what I’d been fruitlessly trying to avoid.
He kept himself buried in me as he pulled me down to the floor, my thighs hooked around his hips, hands pinned overhead. Our fingers laced, gripping tightly as he stroked slow and deep.
Everything else faded to the background.
There was only this.
Only us.
When the climax hit, it did so with an unexpected surge of emotion that sent me into immediate sobs. What exactly I’d been holding, I wasn’t sure, but it all released in tandem with the orgasm.
Tatum didn’t unwrap himself from me until the crying stopped.
Then, he collapsed beside me on the floor, with us both still breathing hard.
Spent.
… Happy.
“Hey,” he said, after a few more minutes had passed.
“Yeah?”
“This floor is hard as fuck.”
"I'm so sorry I was late. Traffic kicked my butt getting to the city from my house."
A blatant ass lie.
The truth was that I'd been dressed and ready to make it to the meetup for lunch with my brother-in-law and Amanda with near perfect timing.
And then Tatum had slowed me down.
He’d spent the night before with me, risking not making a mandatory practice the next day.
This day.
And instead of making a priority of getting on the road, he’d made sure we got in one last quickie session before he set off.
Or rather, a not-so-quickie, which was where the problem lied.
We’d actually taken our sweet time, since things were gearing up to get busy in both of our lives, and it might be a bit before we saw each other in person again.
Definitely wasn’t looking forward to that.
In any case, I was here now, and ready to meet the woman Dennis was apparently trying to make Amina's stepmother.
They stood to greet me as I apologized.
A good hug for Dennis, who I actually had not seen in the flesh in quite a while, and the same for Amanda, a tall, gorgeous sister who looked familiar to me somehow, I just couldn't seem to place it.
I chalked it up to her having good energy.
The three of us fell into conversation very easily, and by the time our designated date was starting to wind down, I understood exactly what Dennis saw in her, besides her beauty.
It was clear he had a type. She actually reminded me quite a bit of Nova.
But someone else, too.
In looks, not personality.
"I'm so sorry, have you and I met somewhere before?" I finally asked, unable to keep it to myself any longer, knowing very well that the answer could simply be no.
A clear discomfort crossed Amanda's face, and she glanced at Dennis, who gave her a little nod.
Then he said, "Hey, you ladies keep talking. I'm gonna excuse myself to the bathroom real quick."
"Okay…. now I'm a little scared." I chuckled as he stood and left me and Amanda alone.
"Don't be," she assured. "If anybody should be scared, it's probably me," she said. "You and I haven't met, but I've always heard how much I favor this one particular cousin of mine. Me and her don't get along very well, though. Very different lifestyles."
I raised an eyebrow. "Who is the cousin?"
"Melissa James."
I frowned. "Melissa James? Melissa… Ja— Yams?" I exclaimed, my eyes going wide when I made the name connection.
Beside me, Amanda's eyes widened too, just not in surprise like mine.
Hers was embarrassment. "Yeah," she agreed. "An insane thing to proudly let people call you, but like I said, that woman is a whole different breed."
I shook my head. "Is this some kind of joke?" I asked, still processing what she just told me.
"It's not,” Amanda sighed. “This has actually been super uncomfortable ever since I realized, when those pictures of them together went viral last year, and she was on the internet acting an ass. I actually almost broke up with Dennis because I didn't want there to be anything weird. I tried to break up with him, and he wouldn't let me," Amanda said with a little smile. "He didn't think it was fair for our relationship to not be able to go forward because of something a cousin I don't even like was doing."
"And he's right," I told her. "You're not her, and nobody should be looking to punish you for her actions. It's definitely awkward, though. I mean, if you and Dennis are going to be serious, if you guys get married… it kinda tangentially makes her my family, too, in a way. Makes Monty my family." I shuddered.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Amanda mumbled, then immediately covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, I just..."
"No, no. What was that?" I asked, leaning forward.
"This is so damn messy," she groaned, shaking her head.
"Yeah, it is. But you've already said it now. You may as well finish spilling the beans."
She sighed. "Look. We had another cousin of ours graduate recently. Afterwards, everybody got together to eat, play cards, normal family stuff. Well… she was there. Bragging about all the things she has, money in her accounts, things for the baby. Bragging about all the different ballers she could pin the baby on. She gets a payday off it either way. But Monty...”
“His money is the longest,” I guessed, immediately picking up what she was telling me. "All this drama and the baby might not even be his…”
Yikes.
Honestly, I felt a little bad for him, knowing how much he wanted children.
But… whatever.
That had nothing to do with me.
I didn't want to dwell on Monty, so I told Amanda that while it was indeed awkward for her to have that relation to Yams, she shouldn't let it affect her relationship with Dennis. Even if they made it official, like married official, there was no guarantee or even a reason really for me to ever end up running into that girl.
Maybe the very occasional major family event that I might be invited to.
It would be silly to let the vague potential of a problem there overshadow the connection they so clearly had with each other.
Truly, I was happy for them.
Just seeing them together was a continuation of the stress-relieved good mood Tatum had already put me in earlier in the morning. It was energy I took to work with me after lunch, right into the emails and changelogs and all that mindless sort of thing I actually loved.
I was… content.
It was about damn time.