Chapter 13
VASIAH
Hayami: I’m not coming today.
Istared at the message, contemplating how I wanted to respond. Something was tugging at me, telling me that everything wasn’t all good with her, and though I’d give her space if she asked, I wanted to comfort her, too.
Me: Why? Is everything okay?
Hayami: I just don’t feel like it.
She was being very dry and very short with me, and I wasn’t even sure what I had done.
When I talked to her earlier yesterday, I knew she was going to dinner with her girls.
I called her last night when she didn’t tell me she made it home, but she didn’t answer.
I started working on my video game, expecting her to hit me back, but she didn’t.
Checked her social media, and she had nothing posted.
Called her again, then texted her. She hit me back this morning and said she wouldn’t be making it to our movie night.
For the past month, we’d settled into a routine of watching TV on Sundays because she usually didn’t take clients on Mondays and I worked from home.
She’d put me on to her favorite shows and movies, and I’d put her on to my fave anime.
It was something that she expressed that she looked forward to, so I couldn’t understand what was so different about today.
I stared at the message again. And while I should’ve let it go and busied myself with my own hobbies, that pesky tugging feeling had me getting in my car because now I was about to pop up on her.
Or talk to her – calmly. This was out of character for me because no woman had ever affected me as Reina’s mean ass did.
She was so hot and cold that I found myself checking in with her to see if it was okay to be normal with her.
Most times, I embraced it because I was remembering what my Pop said about her being scared, and other times, I was absolutely sick of it, like today.
Some shit had to be set straight around here.
Now, she might pistol whip me, or she might fall into submission, but either way it went, Miss King-Hill needed to stop fuckin’ playing with me.
I drove aimlessly for a bit, realizing that I didn’t know where exactly she lived.
How she found out where I lived actually stumped me, but I had never even seen where she laid her head.
She had some rule about it. And that’s another thing that frustrated me about this damn girl.
All these fuckin’ rules and for what? I was tired of being grouped in with her past experiences, to be quite frank.
I wasn’t them lame ass niggas, and them lame ass niggas wasn’t me.
I slammed my palm on the steering wheel until it dawned on me to go to her shop.
When I sent her the candy bouquet, I used a delivery service, so after googling the address, I found myself on 71st Street.
This was on a whim, and she probably wouldn't even be here, but my next step was to go to Vibes and Lines and beg for her address. Crazy, yes, but that girl does crazy shit all the time. Parking, I slowly observed my surroundings and noticed that only Mz. Earline’s Kitchen was open.
Peering into her windows, there Reina was, sewing hair onto what looked like a mannequin head with her over-the-ear headphones on.
She was in the zone, but I could tell from her body language that something was wrong – her shoulders were slumped and whatever she was listening to wasn’t upbeat.
It seemed kinda sad or mellow. Taking a deep breath, I pushed on the buzzer, and she must not heard it because she never looked in my direction.
I pressed on the buzzer repeatedly, and when she finally did glance up, her eyes were cold and distant.
Imma have to knock a nigga out again, I see.
I flexed my hand involuntarily. We held a stare-off, and slowly, she walked to the door to let me in.
With her long legs, it only took her about four steps, but to me, watching her open the door felt agonizing.
Finally, she unlocked it, and instead of welcoming me in, she peered at me unenthusiastically.
“What are you doing here, Vasiah?”
“What’s good with you, LaReina? Can I come in?”
“I’m busy.”
“I think you just made that up. If that’s what I think you’re working on, you said you weren’t finishing that wig until Wednesday because you had to ship it on Thursday for their performance.
You already bleached the knot thingies and colored it.
It takes you about thirty minutes to sew in the hair, and another thirty to curl… so why are you working on it early?”
“You remember all that?”
“I remember everything you tell me. Even the shit that never actually leaves your mouth. Like, how something else is bothering you, and instead of letting your man handle it or comfort you, you act all short and mean to me.”
“My man?” Her mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile.
“Let me in, LaReina,” I commanded, and she stepped aside so I could cross the threshold. In my head, she was already my girl; we just hadn’t made it official, nor had we had sex yet. I knew she wanted to, but I was trying to teach her to use her words when it came to me.
I marveled at the interior of the shop. From previous conversations, Reigning Beauty was her pride and joy, and after her best friend gifted her a building of salon suites that she was actively remodeling, I knew that was something else that she was proud of.
LaReina was a boss in every sense of the word and moved through the world as if she didn’t need anyone.
But something was telling me that wasn’t truly the case.
That deep down inside, she wanted to need, wanted to trust, and wanted to depend on someone other than herself or her twin brother.
“What is it, Vasiah?” Her tone was so flat.
Stepping into her space, I grabbed her by the throat and kissed her deeply.
Her tongue wrapped around mine, and I scooped her up, only breaking our kiss to find her office.
Pushing through the door, I laid her gently on her desk and kept kissing her, planting soft ones on her collarbone before she bit me gently on my neck, bottom lip, and earlobes.
I observed her outfit. She had on a white tank with no bra and a matching tennis skirt.
Easy access. Rubbing my hands across her nipples, I felt them get even harder as I pinched the right, then the left in between my fingers.
Reina’s body was so sexy. My dick was rock hard and begging to be released from my sweat shorts, but we had to get an understanding first.
I locked eyes with her. “First, Imma fuck you. Then, you gone tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.” I expected a flippant response, but she just stared at me, full of lust. Silently, I dropped to my knees and pulled her skirt down to her ankles and then completely off.
Her arousal smelled sweet and enticed me even more.
Pushing my glasses up my nose, I dove straight in for her pretty ass pearl.
Feeling her slightly move back with her back arched, I paused my eating.
“Unt uh. You might run shit out there, but in here, you don’t run from me.”
Without waiting on a response, I dove back in, slurping her until I was content. Her moans filled the room, and when her orgasm came, she rained down my beard. But I wasn’t done, and neither was she.
“Wait! I don’t fuck raw!” she exclaimed and hopped off her desk and went into a drawer, pulling out a roll of condoms. That was fine with me because I wasn’t a fan of raw sex either, though sliding into her wetness without a jacket on was enticing.
I slowly pulled my dick out and held her eye contact as she watched me sheath myself.
Her eyes were as big as saucers. According to women in the past, my dick was nicely sized, and I knew how to use all seven and a half inches.
Sex was like a subject in school to me; I wanted to know how to please my partner and have the best possible outcome, and that came with learning everything I could about sex, desire, and needs.
Gripping her thighs, I slid in and almost praised God for this slice of heaven between her legs.
She was so warm and tight. I swore I heard angels singing and birds chirping as soon as I slid in. And she was a talker, too.
“You look so handsome sliding in this pussy…
ahhhh….ooooh…that feels so good, baby! That feels so good ‘Siahhhh,” she moaned, her long nails pulling me closer so I could get deeper.
I grunted in response, truly consumed by her look, her taste, the feel of her.
I could camp right out in her pussy and die a happy man because what the fuck?
This must’ve been the pussy that Helen of Troy had, that had niggas waging war.
This was the pussy that men emptied their bank accounts for.
The type of pussy that made me wanna call up her mama and go visit her daddy at his gravesite and thank them both for creating her.
The type of pussy that made niggas take out life insurance policies and set up wills where everything went to her.
Gahdamn. The best pussy I’d ever had in my 32 years of life, no exaggeration.
Enrico nigga, I understand. I’d knock him out again and again over her.
“Mmmm Siah! I’m so sorry for being mean to you, baby!” she moaned, and I popped my eyes open, looking at her looking at me.
“You was already forgiven, Hayami, just keep giving me this good ass pussy,” I groaned, feeling my nut rise. Reina met me stroke for stroke, and even pulled her leg behind her head, and gahdammit if my eyes didn’t pop out of their sockets.
Thank God she was teaching me to shoot. I would certainly wipe out a nigga’s whole family when it came to this pussy.
Before I could even ask where she wanted this nut at, she pushed me out of her, snatched the condom off, and jacked my dick until my cum rushed down her throat and she swallowed every drop while looking me in the eyes.
Yeah, I was calling the family lawyer first thing tomorrow.
Spent, I collapsed on her couch and heard her walk to the bathroom, run the water, and then come out moments later with a warm towel, where she gently wiped me down, all in her naked glory.
The cold look in her eyes was replaced with warmth now, and the sunlight hit her skin just right, almost making her look angelic.
Putting our clothes back on, we cuddled on her couch, and I decided to address the elephant in the room.
“Aight LaReina… now that you’ve been fucked…tell me what’s wrong with you?”