18. Everly
(Fourteen months ago)
"Wellll..." I prompted, waiting to hear Real's judgment.
A miserable groan escaped him from where he lay on one of the large rugs tossed on my living room floor. I bit back a smile. Today was my first time going all out cooking for him. It wasn't something I did for men often—I made quick, delicious meals, sure. But for this man, for whom I had no arrangements in place and whom I'd only known a month, I dipped into what I had been taught in my mama's kitchen. I served him smothered oxtails over mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and fried cabbage with hot water cornbread. Whenever he was ready, the iced, cream cheese pound cake would be waiting. I was doing way more than I should, but I couldn't stop myself.
"I'm so damn full. You did your thang, love. But you gotta stop making those mashed potatoes like that," he said, rubbing his belly.
I bit the inside of my bottom lip, not sure what he meant. My mashed potatoes were kinda my thing in my family—a bitch was a little sensitive about them. I'd eaten before he got there, so I knew they were extra good tonight.
"What you mean?" I pressed.
"I can taste God's love in them hoes!"
I laughed at his silly ass.
"For real, shorty, what you put in 'em?"
"A little salt. A little pepper. And umm... heavycreambuttercreamcheeseparmesan and roasted garlic."
I ran that middle part together because I knew it was sinful. You definitely couldn't eat them every day. Pushing up on his elbows, Real stared at me in disbelief.
"That's so damn bad to be so damn good. I could lie like I'm going extra hard in the gym tomorrow, but we working that shit off tonight," he growled. "Come here."
Slowly, I crossed the floor, then lowered myself beside him. He wasted no time arranging me how he wanted, on my back under him, my head resting on the throw pillow he'd just been occupying. I loved laying with him like this, feeling his solid body on mine and basking in the warmth of his brown eyes. Too much, but it was the truth. I stared into his perfect face for a moment before he bent to nuzzle my neck, his beard rasping deliciously against my skin.
"Tonight, I'ma fuck you 'til your legs won't stop shaking. Tomorrow, you gon' let me do something else for you to pay you back. That shit was gourmet, love. Culinary brilliance," he complimented as he kissed and sucked the skin of my throat and shoulder.
I moved restlessly, already heating for him, ready to feel him inside. His lips did something to me that I couldn't explain.
"I have plans tomorrow," I managed to choke out.
He stopped abruptly, pulling back to scowl down at me.
"With a nigga?"
I wanted to tell him it wasn't his business because it wasn't. But another look at his face told me that may not be smart. Besides, Slater was just a coworker. I nodded.
"No," Real countered.
"What do you mean, ‘no?’" I asked.
I was frowning back at him, missing his touch.
"No more plans with other niggas. I want you here for me, just for me for a while."
My eyes widened. I was surprised by his words... and at myself. I never considered these requests this quickly. I had a method. It was tried and true. But here I was...
"You want my time exclusively?"
I wanted to make sure I had this right. He frowned harder as he nodded sharply. I swallowed, made sure none of my mixed feelings were showing when I next spoke.
"That's possible. But you gotta know... there are rules..."
"I have no problem handling your expenses. I ain't ever been in an… arrangement, but I know how the shit goes," he cut me off.
I’d been honest with him about my last two “arrangements” and why I chose them over regular dating.
"There are other rules, Montréal," I insisted.
His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me.
"Tell me."
"Just five little things that'll keep this neat for both of us," I explained.
"Stop stalling, shorty!"
I kissed my teeth. "Fine. Number one, no dates. I don't want to be in the public eye. I'm not an attention seeker. Number two, no sleepovers. I don't need all the cuddling and it's not my business how you spend your nights away from me, as long as you protect yourself. Number three, our business is nobody's business. If we see each other, we don't know each other. Nothing you share with me will be shared with anyone. Number four, no strings. Either one of us can walk away at any time. And number five, no deep feelings. This isn't a typical relationship and I'm sure we're both happy with that."
His face remained blank as I gave him my list. He studied me for a long moment.
“The way you reciting that shit… you’ve really done this all cool and methodical before?”
There was something about the way he asked the question, some little sound to his voice. I couldn’t figure it out, so I just nodded. Brown eyes regarded me for another minute.
"Damn, Ev. I'on think I know another woman like you," he said finally.
"Of course you don't," I popped. "Do we have a deal or not?"
It wasn't until he had me face down on that damn throw pillow, arms locked behind me, pussy spread around him, that he answered.
“No strings, ever, right? Yeah, love," he uttered against my ear.
For the first time, those words gave me pause, didn’t feel right. But he kept talking.
"Yeah, love. We got a deal.”