Chapter 31 Raya
Raya
“What you drinkin’?”
I eye the tall, dark-skinned dreadhead in front of me like the piece of meat he is. Gold Bar is ratchet as fuck, but they got some talent in here. If I wasn’t a married woman, I’d be stalking this nigga right now.
“Just water,” I say softly so he has to lean in. He smells good, too. Damn.
“Lemme get you a shot,” he says. “You too pretty to be sittin’ here bored.”
“I’m here with my friend,” I say, gesturing behind me to Tiff, who’s talking to a man on the dance floor. “I’m good. Chillin’.”
He flashes me a sexy smile. “So why don’t we chill together? You like Hennessey?”
Ooh, that’s a good question.
Normally, I don’t, but I’m sitting here with a parasite inside of me that I didn’t ask for, so…maybe tonight I do.
“Yeah. Make it happen.”
Another smile, then a subtle lick of his full lips. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go nowhere.”
I smile back, wondering what I’m gonna do when he returns.
This is such a mindfuck.
And now I’m staring at my phone wondering if Ace is gonna text me again. Have we reached that point where he’s stopped giving a fuck? Before we got married, he found me hanging out in a bar and snatched me up. But tonight, he just let this shit slide without a word.
It’s so disappointing.
Is this what marriage does to a couple? God, I don’t wanna be boring. I don’t wanna be a ball and chain to a hen-pecked husband. I refuse.
Tiff’s out there having fun with whoever the fuck that guy is. He’s close, but not too close. I guess she’s still playing it respectful for Bron. Stupid mistake. They aren’t even official yet. But whatever. You can lead a bitch to the club, but you can’t make her mindfuck her nigga into committing.
I check my phone again.
Dry as the Sahara.
“Here you go, beautiful.”
It’s my handsome friend again, back with our drinks. I accept the glass with a smile, nodding my thanks. “What are we drinking to?”
“Me getting your number later.”
I lift my glass, raise it to my lips, and then a hand comes out of nowhere and snatches it out of my grasp, splashing me with its contents.
“Yo, what the fuck?”
My eyes dart to my left and find my husband. His eyes are on my handsome friend, but his free hand is gripping my wrist.
“You got a problem?” the man asks Ace.
“Fuck outta here,” Ace grits. “This my wife you fucking with.”
“She ain’t say shit. Must not be too happy about it, bruh.”
He has about three inches on my man, but Ace is more pissed off than I’ve ever seen him, and I don’t doubt that he would black out on a man even twice his size. But I don’t want it to come to that.
“Ace—“
“Yo, take yo ass on somewhere, nigga.”
“Or what?” Dreadhead says, stepping forward.
“I can either whoop yo ass or go pop my trunk," Ace says. "Your choice.”
Now there’s a spotlight on us from somewhere. Oh, wait, it’s the flash from somebody’s phone.
I tug my arm away to get his attention, but that just makes him grip it harder.
“I’m okay,” I tell the handsome man. “He’s my husband. Just leave us alone, please.”
He has the good sense to walk away, but Ace must have left his at the door. He turns his ire on me, and I shiver when I feel a gush of wetness flood my panties.
“Are you out yo motherfuckin’ mind?” he says through tight lips. “Drinking? With my fucking baby in you?”
“Fuck your baby.”
Well, that does it.
He yanks me off the bar stool and pulls me through the crowded lounge. A few women grab at me, asking me if I’m okay, if I need help, if they should call somebody, but I just cover my face with my hand to shield my eyes from the flashes.
Outside, the cold air bites into my skin as we come to a stop at the edge of the parking lot.
“Who the fuck was that nigga?”
“Some man. He bought me a drink.”
“Yeah, I saw. And you were about to drink it.”
“I sure was.”
He shakes his head. “This shit ain’t gon’ work, Raya. I’m not about to have my pregnant wife out here fuckin’ around, drinkin’, smilin’ in niggas’ faces.”
“I just needed a break.”
“From what?”
I point at my stomach. “Thinking about what you did to me.”
Tiff comes out just then, her eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
“She’s fine!” Ace snaps.
Tiff doesn’t look so sure.
“I’m fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“No the fuck you won’t.”
She waivers for just a second before she turns and goes back inside.
"You can't make me do anything," I say, stepping into his space. "You don't control me, Ace. I do what the fuck I want."
He steps forward until we're an inch apart, bringing his hand to my throat. I'm panting now, clit throbbing, mouth watering. I'm itching to get this man inside me, but I can't. I'm not giving him access after what he did.
No matter how bad I want it.
He's leaning forward, just about to slide his tongue in my mouth, when a woman's voice says, "Get off of her!"
We look up and there's a small crowd circling us.
These idiots really think he's abusing me.
"It's okay," I say. "We're married. We're just messing around."
But it's too late. A bouncer is approaching now.
"Lemme walk you to your car," Ace says, and we hurry toward the back where my car is parked.
Nobody follows us, thankfully, but as I flee the parking lot, with Ace behind me in his car, I think about how that must have looked to everybody who saw it.
It's nobody's business, really, but I guess this is the kind of thing Ace is trying to fix. I'm embarrassed, as I'm sure he is.
And I don't think marriage is supposed to be embarrassing.