Chapter 19 Jabali
Ten months ago, I was a stranger knocking on a hill I thought I’d lost. Tonight, I was sitting in our shared office at the top of that same hill, pretending to look at spreadsheets while I really watched the hallway. Waiting on my woman.
Aziza was gone, loud and happy, at Zahara’s for a cousins’ Halloween sleepover.
She’d left our house in a glittery witch costume, cackling like she was an aspiring actress.
She hugged me, hugged her mama, grabbed her overnight bag and her pillow like she was moving out, then bounced down the stairs.
“I’ll call you if they’re weird,” she’d promised.
“They are weird. That’s why you like them,” Kyleigh had told her.
The house got real quiet after that. I told myself I was fine with a quiet Halloween. Few trick-or-treaters up this far. No mandatory town events. Just the big grown-up treat I knew was coming.
Because Kyleigh had said, all casual at breakfast, “I might try on a costume later. Don’t wait up.”
Yeah, right.
The office door opened. Kyleigh stepped in slow, posing with one hand on the doorjamb like she knew she was a safety hazard. Her brown skin glowed warm against black and white. Curves for days wrapped in the most disrespectful little maid outfit I’d ever seen in my life.
Short black dress, white apron tied at the back, neckline with titties spilling out. The skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. Black thigh-high stockings hugged those thick legs I worshipped. Her feet were in little black heels that made her thick legs look even more delicious.
And them locs. She’d pulled her long, honey-brown locs half up, half down, some falling over one eye, the rest tumbling down her back. Dark red lipstick. Gold hoops. A tiny black choker on that soft throat.
I was done for. Over with.
She put one hand on her hip and lifted her fake feather duster like a mic. “Mr. Christopher, I’m here to talk to you about your housekeeping,” she said.
My mouth actually went dry. “You look… insane.”
She smirked. “You not complaining.”
“No, I am definitely not complaining.”
She walked in, hips moving slow, the skirt swishing. Little white apron bow bounced on her ass. I had to take a breath. I had to remind myself I was a father and a man of God, because my thoughts were not holy.
“Aziza would have a fit if she saw this,” I said.
“That’s why she’s at her auntie’s house,” Kyleigh answered. She ran the feather duster over the edge of my desk. “You left crumbs. Again.”
It was a lie. I didn’t care.
“You left me distracted. Again.”
She rolled her eyes, but her mouth was already tilting up. “You done with work?”
I pushed my chair back. “I am now.”
She stepped between my knees like she owned the space. She did. Her hands smoothed over my shoulders, then slid down my chest.
“You know this is payback, right? You had the nerve to come as a firefighter earlier. With that tight shirt. Walking around Freedom’s Field all wholesome with our child like you ain’t know what them old ladies were thinking.”
“You jealous of the deacon wives?” I asked.
“I’m petty. You knew exactly what you were doing, Mr. ‘I’m just here for the kids.’”
I laughed low. “You know you the only one I see.”
“Mm-hmm. We gon’ test that tonight.”
She dropped the duster onto the desk, then swung one leg over and sat on my lap like she’d done it every day for ten months. Which, honestly, she almost had. The dress rode up, thighs warm and plush on either side of me.
I grabbed her hips, fingers sinking in. “You gon’ kill me in this.”
“Not tonight,” she said. “Tonight, I’m here to serve. Crotchless panties and all”
Her mouth brushed mine, soft at first. A tease. I chased it before the second kiss even finished. She tasted like the candy she’d stolen from Aziza’s trick-or-treat bag and something that was just her: sweet and dangerous.
Sometimes it still hit me hard, how close I’d come to never getting this again.
She deepened the kiss, arms sliding around my neck. My hands moved on their own. Up her back. Down the curve of her waist. Over the swell of her hips. Every place I touched hummed at me like Yeah, you home.
She rocked once. That was all it took. Heat shot through me, fast and electric. I groaned into her mouth. She smiled against my lips, satisfied.
“Ten months and you still easy,” she whispered.
“Ten months and you still think I’m the only one that’s easy,” I answered.
Her hands slid under my hoodie, fingers tracing my stomach, my ribs. “My baby is ripped. You could be a problem.
I scoffed. “I am a problem.”
“You my problem,” she said.
That did something to me. It still got me, that word. My. I kissed her again, slower this time. I let myself feel it. The way her soft body fit on mine. The way she relaxed into me like she trusted me not to drop her.
What we did shouldn’t even be called undressing. Hoodie and pants gone. Her apron untied. Her dress tugged over her hips. That thick, curvy body I dreamed about almost every night right here in my hands, wrapped in black lace and stockings.
“Turn off the lamp. I’m fine as hell in the moonlight,” she murmured.
Ain’t nothing like that ass jiggling in the moonlight, I wanted to tell her. “Demanding,” I said instead.
She kissed my jaw. “You like it.”
She was right.
I hit the switch. Moonlight slid in through the big office windows, shimmery over her brown skin.
The hill was quiet outside. Town lights twinkled in the distance.
In here, all I saw was her. She pushed me back on the couch and knelt between my legs.
My baby didn’t come to play. She swallowed me as soon as she got down there, moaning, “Mm,” like she loved the taste of me.
The vibrations had me throwing my head back, my hand twisting in her long hair.
Kyleigh’s tongue was a thing of beauty as it swirled all over me, dipping into the slit at the top, laving the vein just below the head, licking down my length.
Wet and warm, her mouth pulled me into heaven, and I was happy to go.
Her head bobbed up and down as she worked to take more and more of me, her hand working its own rhythm at my base.
She hummed and slurped and spit and swallowed until I was barely conscious. My hand guided her head, the sensuous glide almost more than I could take.
“Look at me,” I gritted out.
She did. She was starting to look messy, ruined in the best way.
Her eyeliner and mascara out of place as her eyes watered from the generous access she allowed me to her throat, her lipstick smudged, the lower half of her face wet from the lubrication she provided.
Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked me and obediently watched me.
This was the only time she could be described as anything close to obedient; I liked it.
“You so pretty like this,” I breathed. “Fuck, Kyleigh. You—"
The telltale tingling in my balls and heat coiling in my belly and back had me pulling her gently, a demand that she get up.
She did, climbing beside me on the couch as I panted for air.
She swung her leg fully over, straddling me.
Her hands braced on my chest. Her eyes met mine, half-lidded and sure.
“You good?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m perfect.”
She was. I could agree with that. And then I learned that my new favorite thing in the whole world was crotchless panties as my baby held me in position and slowly, an inch at a time, it felt like, slid that tight, juicy pussy down on me.
It greeted me eagerly, pulling me in as she descended, welcoming my insistent invasion.
I let her set the pace. She moved slow at first, testing her balance.
Testing us. Then confidence kicked in and my brain left my body.
She rode me like it was something she’d been planning all day. Hands on my chest. Head tipped back, locks swinging down her back. The little maid apron was long gone, but the attitude stayed.
I grabbed her chin, wanting her to look at me while I was so deep inside her.
She did, her eyes dark and soft and bright all at once.
I put my hands on her hips, helping her move, palms full of everything I was never getting tired of.
Every shift, every slide, every roll of her body screamed was mine and always would be.
I thought about the girl she’d been in Mrs. Amanda’s kitchen. Smart mouth, shy smile. I thought about the years we lost. The nights she cried alone in Houston. The missions where I tried to forget her and just ended up missing her even more.
Then I thought about right now.
Our office. Our hill. Our life.
Her breath caught. I felt her start to shake, felt her nails dig into my shoulders.
I held on and let go right with her. We stayed there, breathing hard in the half-dark, holding on to each other.
Eventually, she collapsed against my chest with a satisfied little sigh.
I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead.
“You tryna kill me before Thanksgiving,” I muttered.
“Shut up. You alive,” she mumbled back.
“Barely.”
Her laugh was sleepy now. She tucked her face into my neck, warm and soft and smelling like cocoa butter and that stolen candy. I could feel her easing down, sliding into that afterglow nap she’d pretend she never took.
“Jay,” she murmured.
“Yeah, baby.”
“I love you.”
My chest pulled tight. Not painful. Just big. My little grinch wasn’t the only one who had a heart that could swell.
“I love you too, Ky.”
I felt her smile against my skin. She was out two minutes later.
I eased out from under her carefully. She mumbled something, rolled onto her side, and hugged one of the couch pillows like it was me. I pulled a throw blanket over her, brushed my fingers over her cheek, and just looked at her for a second.
My woman. On our hill. In our office. Our daughter safe with family down in the city.
A life I hadn’t even let myself picture ten months ago.