Chapter 15 Harlo
Two years later . . .
Nothing felt better than the wind whipping past my face while I hugged my husband’s body from behind. He whipped through the streets like the expert he was, and I allowed myself to sink deeper into the serenity I felt whenever he was near. Resting my cheek on his back, I let my eyes drift close.
The sound of his bike purring was music to my ears. It was my favorite sound, second to his heartbeat. To this day, we still couldn’t sleep without being wrapped in each other’s arms, and I was looking forward to a lifetime of that.
It felt so good to finally get the love I deserved.
Some days, I wanted to square up with myself, thinking about how I almost fumbled one of God’s greatest because I thought I understood everything about the kind of men CCB members were.
But thank God for being wrong and finally learning the truth, because it saved my life.
I gulped as memories of Emir wanted to surge forward, but I refused to give them access to my present moment. I allowed that man to steal too much time from me. He would never get another second if I had anything to say about it.
I hated to admit it, but the only reason he was crossing my mind was because today was the anniversary of his death.
A little over two years later, and like clockwork, the media resurfaced the story.
Sometimes it hurt to be scrolling on social media, having a beautiful day until I saw a picture from my past.
Even though I’d sued the Solaire Police Department for releasing my personal photos every now and then, one of them would still surface.
Sometimes I hated the way a person’s personal life could become entertainment for others.
I was the topic of many discussions, and only the people closest to me held me down when the world got too loud.
Dior slowed his bike down as we reached the Dutch Art Studio.
For the first time in a while, I was going to be releasing a new art collection, Black & Blue.
If my trauma was going to be talked about, I was determined to lead the story in the direction I wanted it to go.
The way Emir treated me was terrible, but it was not my whole story.
It was a horrible chapter that closed the day he closed his eyes.
What I felt was worth talking about these days was my new life. The man who would burn the world down if it meant seeing me smile. He truly got a hard-on from loving me.
My family was also worth talking about, from my blood relatives to the ones I chose when I became Quadior’s ol’lady.
I was covered in every way and knew I would never have to be isolated again.
I didn’t take any member of my family for granted because when I needed saving, they were all there.
So, whenever they needed me, I was on the way, no questions asked.
I shook my head when Keem shot by us, walking his bike.
Dior pulled into one of the parking spots out front.
Laprada pulled up on his left and Mo on his right.
Other CCB members already sat near their bikes, waiting for us to arrive.
The line of people waiting to get into the gallery had me all giddy inside.
I couldn’t believe this was really happening.
There were so many times in my marriage to Emir when my art had to take a back seat to the things he would rather I do with my time.
Meanwhile, Dior would never make me choose to spend my time doing anything other than what made me happy.
If I chose to lie around our home all day being a lazy housewife he’d allow that too.
He loved to spoil me, so I had the best of both worlds.
Dior got off his bike, then helped me do the same.
As usual, he took my helmet off for me and took the time to fix my hair.
I couldn’t contain my smile as my nerves exploded into something more.
Something that settled into my bones, finally allowing them to feel an ache other than pain.
Today they ached with joy and disbelief at the way my life had completely changed in such a short amount of time.
Qua took my hand in his, then walked me to the front of the crowd.
I waved at the people who couldn’t contain their excitement to see me.
I already knew I had a fan base, but one of the good things that came out of marrying Emir was my truth exploded my audience.
Everyone wanted to work with me or showcase my art in one way or another. All my dreams were finally coming true.
“I want to thank you all for being here. Today is my first public art gallery and I hope y’all love every piece just as much as I do.”
The doors were officially open for viewing, and Dior wrapping his arms around my waist grounded me in the moment.
His lips on my neck had me thinking about the question he’d asked me earlier over breakfast. Before I got the opportunity to answer him, everyone had shown up to the house to ride over to the gallery together.
“I’m ready to stop my birth control,” I whispered so only he could hear me.
When I felt his body stiffen, I slipped out of his arms and rushed inside the gallery.
It was easy to camouflage my way into the crowd because I knew he was looking for me.
He would never let me drop a bomb like that and just go on about my day.
The first familiar face I ran into was my father’s. I opened my arms to hug him. When he let me go, he smiled proudly. “I always knew your talent was unmatched, baby girl, but this is just . . . wow.”
Leaving him speechless had me teary-eyed. If there was one thing I could admit it was that my father always supported me. “Thank you, Daddy. That truly means a lot. You are the one person who’s always been in my corner, and I didn’t always appreciate it.”
He tried to cut me off, but I wouldn’t allow him to. Taking his hand, I walked him over to the piece I wanted him to see. He had no clue he was a part of the collection, but I couldn’t tell my story without talking about the man who raised me.
The painting was of him in his younger years, around the time he created CCB with Quadior’s father.
I saw the tears in my father’s eyes as he admired my rendition of his photo.
“I wanted to use this specific image because I finally understand CCB is not a gang. It’s a family.
It’s loyalty. It’s my legacy.” I got a little choked up but kept going.
“I used to just see you as a murderer, and it kept me away for longer than necessary because what you truly are is a provider, a protector, and a leader. Thank you for giving me time to get understanding, and forgive me for the distance my ignorance caused.”
He rushed me, and I allowed him to hold me as long as he needed to. My father and I weren’t back to how I was when I was younger, but we were making our way there. For the chance to rekindle a once unbreakable bond, I was grateful.
When he released me, I tried to rush off when I saw Dior watching me like a true predator.
He didn’t allow me to get far, though. “Oh, no you don’t,” he teased, lopping my belt loop and pulling me back.
I tried to grab on to the corner, as a final attempt to keep him from pulling me inside the janitor’s closet, but failed miserably, because the next thing I knew, he had me backed into the locked door.
“Quadior,” I warned in an exaggerated tone. “I need to concentrate on my art right now.”
He shook his head with a smirk. “Nah, you need to concentrate on letting me nut in your pussy.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even though my pussy was purring. Just wet and ready to feel every inch of him. “I haven’t stopped the birth control yet, so it’s not like we’re going to get pregnant today.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I know, and I don’t care. We might as well start practicing now.” He hooked my chin and lifted my head so he could attack my lips. “Now, stop all that yappin’, and in the words of Webbie, ‘girl, give me that pussy.’”
And gave him that pussy I did because even though I played hard to get, I wanted him just as badly.
Before I could fully exhale, we were naked, and Dior was sliding deep inside of me.
“You want a son.” He slammed all his weight into me, and I just knew I was creaming down his shaft.
He slowly pulled out, and my mouth watered from how badly I missed him.
He gripped my hips tightly, then stroked me long and slow. “Or do you want a daughter.”
Looking back at him over my shoulder, I said, “Give me a son, baby.” And I swore he fucked me so hard there was a good chance that he not only gave me a son, but two of them.
The End