Chapter 3 Remy #2
Going inside, I went into the kitchen to put away the groceries that he was bringing in. I giggled because I literally couldn’t remember the last time that I had done something so normal like going to the store for more than a thing or two.
He brought them in and began placing them on the counter for me to sort through, so I started to put all the cold items in the refrigerator first.
Once he had brought the last bag inside, he stopped me from doing what I was doing by grabbing my hand and turning me toward him.
“Remy, I’m going to call you tonight, aight?”
“Okay, Zo,” I smiled at him.
He kissed my forehead and turned around and walked out the door without another word, like he hadn’t just given me the most intense case of butterflies. And I stood there in the kitchen, wondering where the sudden switch had come from.
***
“Good morning, Ma.” The baritone flowed through the speaker as I rolled over and struggled to answer the phone, already knowing who was facetiming me at the crack of dawn.
“Good morning,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and finally looking at the screen.
He was sitting in the truck, fully dressed, smiling at me.
It was a little after six a.m., and I don’t know how Zo managed to look as good as he did, given his lifestyle.
He would only get about 4-5 hours of sleep a night and swore that he was fine with that.
“Get up, Rem, and get dressed. I want you to spend the day with me.” He said, his voice was low and sexy.
I put the phone back to my face in confusion, which caused him to laugh.
I was technically a free woman, in yet another condo since Jaxon and Kennedy had gotten married.
I was happy for them. They got their happily ever after, which gave Zo and me the chance to further explore our relationship.
We talked daily, and over the last two or three months, we had been seeing each other more often.
But his schedule was so demanding, so actually getting a day to ourselves hadn’t happened.
He put in effort where he could, and I appreciated it just the same.
He would send gifts and flowers to the office or come by for lunch.
At night, when he got off, he’d come over and rub my feet or let me rub my hands through his locs until he fell asleep.
But that’s as far as we have gone. There was some sexual tension there, but we were getting to know each other.
It was so refreshing to just move at our own pace.
I had learned so much about who he was. Everything from his life in Barbados to growing up in the States.
He was bat shit crazy to his core, but he was so layered that I was genuinely surprised by it.
Especially when we were having lunch, and he told me that I was using the wrong fork to eat my salad.
He was hood yet sophisticated, and I loved both sides.
“Now?” I asked to make sure.
“Yeah, go shower and shit. I’ll be there by the time you get ready.”
“Okay.” I didn’t argue, as I disconnected the phone and struggled to throw my feet on the side of the bed. We had just stayed up until 1 a.m. on FaceTime, and he was back up like he was well rested. He was used to this life, not me.
I walked like a zombie, dragging my feet in my slippers and going into the shower. The hot water beads falling down my back woke me up as best they could. I showered, brushed my teeth, did my skin care routine, combed my hair, and then threw on a robe and called him back.
“Yeah, Rem?” He answered as I just stood in the middle of my room, unsure of how I should dress for the day.
“How should I dress?” I asked as I scanned the racks of clothing with my eyes, hoping something cute would jump out at me.
“Comfortable, baby. Put on a dress and sandals or something. If you need to change later, you can. I’m pulling through the gate now.”
“Alright,” I said as I hung up the phone and found a pink Maxi dress and some cute sandals to match the purse I had been carrying yesterday, because I didn’t have much time to switch. Then I sprayed some perfume on and walked out the door.
I made it outside, and Zo was standing there looking handsome as hell.
He looked rough on the outside, but seeing him dressed in business attire always did something to me.
When I made it to him, he brought me into his arms, tilted my head with my chin, and gave me the deepest kiss.
For someone who said they didn’t like to kiss, he was a great kisser, and every time our lips touched, it sent something through me that felt close to electricity.
It was like a current that started at my mouth and settled between my legs.
Then he rounded the truck and opened the passenger door for me. I climbed into the seat as we made our way through the streets of New York. We pulled up to a bunch of high-rise condos, and he pulled out front and valeted.
“Good morning again, Mr. Richardson.” The attendant said as Zo handed him the keys and came around to help me out.
Zo nodded, and I gave a quick and polite “hey” as I stepped out and took his hand as he guided me through one of the most secure buildings I had ever seen.
Once we stepped off the elevator, the smell of food hit me immediately.
“Somebody is throwing down,” I groaned as my stomach growled.
He chuckled, typed in a code on the door, and pushed it open. The aroma hit me even harder.
When I walked in and saw Chef P, the chef who had catered Kennedy and Jaxon’s wedding, I smiled even brighter. I spent the entire night raving about how good the food was. He had an entire spread set out for us.
“I’m almost done, boss. What’s up, boss lady?” He greeted me as he continued to cut the fruit.
“How are you?” I asked as I walked deeper into the house and looked around.
I assumed this was Zo’s house. It was cold but clean.
Everything seemed to have its own place.
The decor was plain, but it was obvious a designer had tried to put a masculine touch on the place.
He walked me through the side of the condo to a sliding glass door where he had a table set up in front of an outdoor sofa.
“Zohan! This is so cuteeeee.” I squealed because he had turned his balcony into something like a private escape.
“P is doing some renovations at his restaurant. So, I just had him set up here,” he said as he sat down on the sofa and pulled me into his lap.
“That’s fine, I’m here for the food. As good as he cooks, we could’ve eaten in the truck,” I laughed, but I meant it.
I have always said that if you want to impress me, give me things that money can’t buy.
I have my own funds. By no means does that mean I would accept the bare minimum, but there are simply some things that you can’t put a value on.
We talked for a minute or two when Chef P came in, brought our plates, and set them down in front of us.
I got up to take a seat beside him, but he stopped me and sat me back in his lap.
“Appreciate you, P,” he said as they shook hands.
“Anytime, Fam. Remy, nice to see you again. It’s more in the kitchen if you want more. Y’all take care.” He said as he did the last plating adjustments and put some powdered sugar on my French toast.
“Thank you,” I said as he nodded and turned around to leave, throwing his hand in respect one final time toward Zo.
I looked at Zo’s plate, which was different from mine. He already had this weird eating regimen, but I had never seen that specific dish. I’m from Louisiana, where everything comes with sauce and rice.
“What exactly are those?” I asked as I pointed toward the dish.
“A Bajan dish, saltfish and fried plantain. You want some?” He asked as he rubbed my thigh and bit into the fried ball.
“Yeah,” I accepted, as he brought it to my mouth and I bit a piece of it as well. I didn’t think that I would like it, but I was surprised when I did.
“Can you cook any of those dishes?” I asked as I forked my scrambled eggs and cheese.
“Yeah, some of them.”
“You’re definitely cooking for me one night. You want to taste my French toast? This strawberry glaze is so good!” I asked as I did a shimmy.
“Nah, I’m good that shit looks sweet.”
“Please,” I smiled brightly as he shook his head. I glared at him for a bit before he finally agreed, then I cut a piece with the fork and extended it toward him. At first, he didn’t want me to feed it to him. But then he reluctantly came around and ate it from the fork.
“It’s aight. It’s still sweet as fuck.” He panted and took a dramatic sip of water, as if I had just given him a forkful of sugar.
We sat on the balcony for another hour, and my head started to weigh a ton. We were both about three mimosas deep, and I had only gotten a couple of hours of sleep. Now, I have the itis. I turned in his lap and looped my arms around his neck with my eyes closed.
“Zo, that was good.”
“It’ll taste better off you,” He groaned into my chest as he rubbed my butt.
“You think so? Come find out,” I challenged. I could feel his dick stiffening underneath me as I said it.
He did exactly that. He planted wet kisses on my exposed chest as I massaged his scalp through the thick of his locs.
I moaned at the feel of his full lips against my skin.
Sliding the dress off my shoulder, my breast was now fully exposed, and my nipple hardened in arousal.
He reached out and put some of the strawberry sauce on his finger, rubbed it across my nipple, and then leaned down and brought it into his mouth, savoring the sauce from my skin.
As he sucked my nipple, he brought his finger to my mouth, and I obliged his request for me to clean his hand.
“Gah damn,” he groaned as he watched me suck his finger with nothing but fire in his eyes.