Chapter 10
I’ve lived enough life to know that very little should surprise me anymore. Pain teaches you that early. Loss sharpens it. Disappointment cements it.
But Calil Black treating me like I wasn’t something to be hidden, something to be enjoyed quietly and denied loudly, was not on my bingo card.
Neither was him stepping in like that tonight. Neither was the way he said mine without hesitation, without flinching, without apology.
My defenses finally start to loosen, inch by inch.
“I want the three of us to talk,” I say after a long moment. “When Lena’s out of the hospital and settled in.”
He nods immediately. “I agree.”
There’s no resistance. No bargaining. Just respect.
I swallow and decide to tell him the part I don’t usually say out loud. “I’m the reason Lena and I haven’t gone public.”
His brow furrows slightly. “Why.”
I sigh. “Because I’m scared. Of her parents. Of her father especially. I don’t want her to have to choose between me and her family. I don’t want to be the reason she loses them.”
He listens. Really listens.
Then he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “That would be hypocrisy at its finest. They adore Ajaih, Maverick, and Knox. Love them out loud.”
His expression turns serious again. “You can’t want to be loved out loud while being the one keeping yourself in the shadows.”
I wince. “That’s easier said than done when you’re used to being the one who gets left.”
“I get that,” he says gently. “But nothing about the Barré family has ever given hateful. Maybe give them a chance to prove you wrong.”
I sit with that. Let it settle. Let it challenge the narrative I’ve been protecting myself with.
Then he says, low and warm, “Z Baby, come here.”
My stomach flips.
I stand in front of him, suddenly feeling like a schoolgirl instead of a grown woman who has survived hell. And when I really look at him, it hits me all over again.
This man is gorgeous.
Warm brown skin. Broad shoulders. Tall, solid, grounded.
Jeans that make it very clear strength lives in his legs.
A fitted white tee that does nothing to hide the power in his frame.
Jordan Grape 5s on his feet like he doesn’t even have to try.
The clean taper fade, waves precise. The Rolex on his wrist. The gold David Yurman Cuban link chain resting against his chest. It’s simple, yet masculine. He’s dangerously alluring.
He catches me staring. “You enjoying the view?”
I roll my eyes, heat creeping up my neck. “Actually, I am.”
“Then come get a closer look.”
He pulls me gently into his lap, careful, intentional. I settle there, legs on either side of his, heart racing.
“You comfortable?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes.”
His hands move slowly, reverently, following the curves of my body like he’s learning me, not claiming me. The contact alone makes my breath hitch.
“You know you’re beautiful, right?” he murmurs.
I nod, but the way he says it feels like a statement, not a question.
“Beautiful as hell.”
The words unravel something in me. A sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. He tilts my chin up so I’m looking at him, really looking, and the intensity in his eyes makes my pulse jump.
Then he kisses me.
Not rushed. Not greedy. Deep, steady, intentional. The kind of kiss that feels like a promise instead of a demand. My hands go to his shoulders instinctively, grounding myself in him, and for a moment I forget everything else.
Then reality crashes in.
“I… I’m cheating on Lena,” I say suddenly, pulling back, breathless and panicked.
He laughs softly, not dismissive, just calm.
I scowl. “That’s not funny.”
He keeps me right where I am, hands steady on my waist. “Calm down, baby. Lena and I talked. I told her I wanted to figure out my feelings for you, to see if there was any chance you might feel something for me.”
My heart stutters.
“She told me we should spend time together. See what’s there.”
Everything freezes. Though we accidentally crossed paths at the bar tonight. Nothing else was accidental.
Him waiting in his car to make sure I was safe. He did that for me. Because he cares for me and not as an extension of Lena. But because his own desire was to know me in depth. The surface-level facade I’d shown him wasn’t enough. I’m rendered wordless.
Instead, I lean in and kiss him this time. I let the truth of his words settle in my chest. The kiss is slower and deeper. Full of acknowledgment instead of confusion. Traversing the territory from romantic to explicit.
I feel his hardness beneath me. I wine my waist as I create the perfect rhythm—slow—igniting flames of unbridled desire.
“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask unsure.
“I am. My dick is harder than a day-old Dunkin Donut,” he joked as it strained against his jeans.
“I uh—meant with my you know,” I didn't get a chance to finish before he cut my words short.
“Your dick. Use your words Baby and be confident when you do,” he demanded as his hand was now between us as I continued to grind into him. He was stroking me through my shorts.
“I know what’s between your legs Z Baby and I want all of you. Matter of fact—take these little ass shorts off—and the top too. I need to see and touch you.”
I never moved so fast to get naked. I was feral and wanted to feel his hands on my bare body. By the time I was nude, he was too. The thickness and length of his member made heat course through my veins. But what really unraveled me was the look of need and desire written across his face.
This thing happening between us isn’t accidental.
“Back in my lap Z Baby. Let me feel you against me. Let me feel your arousal. Your hardness on mine. You see how you have me making a mess just looking at you.”
He wasn’t lying. Precum was pooling at the head until it spilled over the edge and eased down his shaft. My greed got the best of me as I leaned forward to lick it up.
“Mmmm. Such a perfect girl,” he groans.
The pleasure was evident in his voice.
I’m back in his lap we begin frotting against each other. I grab his shoulders and stroke up as I find the right pace. Shaft to shaft we grind. His thick lips wrap around my nipple as he lightly rolls the other between his thumb and index finger. My body bows forward in enchantment.
“You feel so fucking good against me,” I murmur.
Releasing my pebbled bud, he pulls my mouth to his. “You’re mine,” he groans before kissing me in a way so explicit it should only be for our eyes only.
“Make a mess on me, Daddy,” I beg between him sucking my tongue and feeding me his.
The warmth of his body beneath me coupled with the slickness coating our members as we rock to a beat produced just for us.
“Z Baby, FUCK! You feel so good against me,” the strain in his tone was all the indication I needed to know his release was near.
“I know Daddy,” I whimper.
I can feel my release uncoiling as my body starts to hum.
“Stop holding back. Coat me.”
His final command snatched the load I was holding. Thick ropes of cum shoot from me and land all over his dick and stomach. As my body continues to vibrate with ecstasy, I make it to my knees.
“Is Daddy’s perfect Princess gone clean up her mess?” He asks with dominance dripping from his voice as he looks down at me.
Something about being called his perfect Princes unlocks my need to fulfill his needs. While I could have answered—I opted to get to work—licking and sucking every slightly salty drop of me from him.
“Fuck! Catch it Z,” he growled before grabbing my hair and fucking my throat until his seed spills down it.
We allow the sounds of our deep breathing to fill the air. I rest on my knees preparing for Calil’s post nut clarity kick-in. Waiting for the moment to turn awkward when he realizes what he just did and with who.
It never happens.
“Show me to the bathroom so we can get cleaned up.” He pulls me to my feet and kisses my lips.
“Come on. I’m tired and wanna lay with you—if that’s okay.”
It was better than okay. It was the perfect way to end the night. I didn’t feel like I was bracing for heartbreak as I lay in his arms. I doze off realizing I’m wrapped in the arms of someone that chose me first instead of choosing me back.
The first thing I notice when Lena opens the door is how tired she looks.
Not weak. Not fragile. Just… worn.
Her clothes hang loosely on her frame. Her hair is pulled back. Her eyes still bright but edged with the kind of exhaustion you only get from fighting your own body. The hospital smell hasn’t fully left her yet. Or maybe that’s just my imagination refusing to relax.
I step inside carefully, as if my presence might bruise her.
“How you feeling?” I ask, already moving toward her.
She smiles gently. “I’m upright. That’s progress.”
Lena had a way of minimizing the storm and always bringing sunshine. My Soleil.
We settle on the couch as she tucks herself beneath a blanket. I’m close enough that our knees touch. I don’t even try to hide the worry in my voice.
“What are the doctors saying?”
She exhales slowly. “I’ve been fighting vaso-occlusive crises for years, Z. It’s taken a toll on my body. My spleen is compromised and so are my kidneys.”
Pain settles deeply in my heart.
My stomach drops. “Compromised how? What does that mean? Do you need a transplant? You can have one of my kidneys. I’m serious.”
Her brows lift, surprised and a little amused at my spiraling.
“It’s ok Z,” she says softly, taking my hands. “We’re not there. They’re monitoring and adjusting meds. It’s complicated but not yet catastrophic”
That doesn’t make me feel better. For Lena I pretend it does.
“What can we do?” I press. “What do you need?”
“I need you not to panic,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Before I can argue further, there’s a knock at the door.
Calil.
He steps inside with flowers and soup from Olive & Oak. His face holds a seriousness that mirrors mine. Still oozing swagger but without the smirk. Only concern.