Chapter 3 #2
Papers flew off the edges, landing on the floor.
I had faith in Royce’s resourcefulness, but it didn’t change the fact that someone was willing to sabotage everything I worked hard for to obtain on a measly two million.
Two million had touched my fingertips by the time I heard my mother’s voice on my line for my twenty-second birthday.
Sixteen fucking years ago.
The money was insignificant. The principle, however, was abhorrent.
Unshakeable.
Repugnant.
My ringing cell did little to resuscitate my sanity. I answered without second thought.
“Speak,” I barked into the phone, uninterested in exchanging words with anyone.
But her.
“Ishmael.”
I removed the phone from my ear and held it in front of me. The human who’d gifted my mother with his sperm was on the line, adding more wood to the fire I was struggling to tame.
My limbs stiffened. I ground my teeth together, inhaling. I pushed out the oxygen I’d pulled in with hopes of releasing the tension in my body. I failed miserably.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“I–” he coughed out, “I was calling to apologize about the other night, Son. I took a tumbling down the steps at my apartments. I was headed to you. My neighbors found me on the ground the next morning. I can’t remember a thing. I’m still in this here hospital.
“I’m sorry, Son. I was looking forward to seeing you. You know– catching up. I was thinking we could reschedule when I don’t look like the stairs used me as their punching bag and my ribs have healed up a bit.”
“Fuck you, your ribs, and your schedule.”
I pressed the red button, still fuming. His absence was the reason I was in the predicament I was in. I didn’t care to hear his apologies about continuing his tradition and possibly causing me the election.
My fingers massaged my temple. I closed my eyes, desperately needing to catch my breath. Settling felt impossible. My chest rose and fell as I took in and released deep, steady breaths.
Fuck.
I snatched the jacket of my suit from the back of my chair and headed for my office door. Without a word, I ambled through the suite.
“Mr. Grayson,” Matte called out. “Mr. Grayson.”
The sound of her footsteps grew closer.
“I’m taking the rest of the day,” I tossed over my shoulder, never slowing my stride.
“I– I was wondering if I could get your approval for the donors f–”
“Tomorrow, Matte.”
“Okay, but what about th–”
Halting completely, I turned, finding Matte behind me.
“Tomorrow.”
I fought to keep the darkness inside, but this situation made it extremely arduous. Matte’s quivering frame made it evident I wasn’t victorious. I was falling deeper into the abyss.
I continued down the hallway. The elevator’s doors parted almost instantly. I stepped inside, grateful for the solitude. My spine flexed as my head rested against the steel.
A chime from my cell reclaimed my thoughts. I dug into my pocket to retrieve the chunk of titanium I was beginning to despise. The number in the notification bar forced me to straighten my posture. I tapped the screen to find the words I’d searched for just minutes prior.
There’s no one more suitable for the seat than you, Mr. Grayson. It’s yours.
I peered at the message as Royce’s voice rolled around in my head. All that had gone up in flames quietly settled and became nothing more than a smoldering pit of desire.
So are you, Ms. Childers.
It became apparent that there was a job I wanted a bit more than the mayoral position. I wanted to be things to Royce that no man had been before. When my plate was clear and my attention was undivided, I would seek the opportunity to do so. For now, I had an election to win.
“Front door open.”
I entered my condo to the sound of my alarm system. Six numbers silenced it, keeping it from alerting the local authorities of my presence. I slipped out of my loafers as I pulled my tie from around my neck.
One button at a time, I loosened my shirt.
One stair at a time, I got closer to my destination.
The secondary kitchen was my first stop.
I removed a bottle of water from the fridge.
My fingers wrapped around the top of the only glass in the cupboard.
I emptied the bottled water into it after a swift rinse.
Back against the counter, I chugged the cold liquid. The glass collided with the marble as I exited the kitchen. I removed my shirt, lessening the distance between me and the lovely bar that had sold the condo itself.
Though it was small in size, its beauty was something to behold. Olive green tile lined the wall, forming a distinct separation between the bar and the rest of the second floor. A marbled top and small gold black sink paired perfectly, beginning where the tile ended.
A wine cooler stretched to meet the edge of the marble. Shelves occupied the space the tile didn’t, leading up to the ceiling. Olive decor filled the spaces it was humanly impossible to reach on any given day.
I lifted the top of the decanter and placed it at my mouth. I sipped slowly. The cognac began to numb my heart and head at once. Lowering the liquor came without hesitation. Intoxication wasn’t my objective, forgetfulness was.
Numbness.
Insensibility.
Carelessness.
Thoughtlessness.
I slid another glass across the bar. The cognac filled the bottom rim. At the quarter mark, I recapped the decanter and claimed the glass. The bathroom was my next stop. It didn’t matter that it was just after five-thirty. It was time to wash the day away.
Warm water poured down on me. My right hand rested on the showerhead as my thoughts ran rampant. The to-do list sitting on my office desk lengthened with each day. However, I couldn’t even begin to scratch the surface with the unwarranted scandal lingering like a bad cold.
I wasn’t sure if it was the anticipation of the images being released or the fact that they would be released troubling me most. Either way, I was suffocating from the unknown. My lack of control was humbling. I despised the feeling.
Finding out who was responsible and forcing them to kiss the butt of my bullets felt much more logical.
Easier. Obtainable. Actionable. Yet, here I was, waiting for the inevitable.
Struggling to keep from fading to black.
Trying my hardest to keep my trigger finger moistened so it didn’t itch too often or too much.
Yes, Mr. Grayson?
I squeezed my eyes together. Everything beelined for the center of my face. There was a noticeable shift in my breathing. My heart drummed against my chest. I stiffened between the legs.
Quietly, I etched her frame in my memory, demanding it stayed for the rest of my time on earth. While I wanted to forget the last few days, I never wanted to forget her.
She’s unforgettable.
And impressive.
And tall.
And pretty.
And knowledgeable.
And mean.
And confident.
And strict.
And striking.
And dark. Just like me.
I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. A white bath towel was waiting for me. I patted my face, neck, shoulders, and chest dry before wrapping it around my waist. Two minutes after entering my closet, I’d switched it out for a pair of black briefs.
7:06p
I reentered my bedroom with my eyes trained on the nightstand.
My mattress sunk under the pressure of my bodyweight.
I slid the drawer open and removed the natural butter my mother supplied me with monthly.
She’d been making it for us since we were kids.
Our limbs were long and our skin ashed easily.
She vowed to keep us moistened and she hadn’t broken that vow yet.
Her days were lighter, giving her the opportunity to enjoy the things she once discovered while in survival mode with three continuously growing boys.
Like sewing our clothes because she couldn’t afford the pieces we truly wanted.
Like making our moisturizer because we ran through bottles of lotion weekly.
Like thrifting. Like gardening because a pack of seeds were cheaper than whatever vegetable or fruit we wanted.
There’s no one more suitable for the seat than you, Mr. Grayson. It’s yours.
I polished my skin as Royce rejoined me. She crossed my mind so often I was beginning to wonder if she ever escaped. Images of her manicured nails tapping the screen of her phone lulled me to steadier ground.
I twisted my neck, stretching it until it popped. Everything tightened at once. My vision was perfect according to the optometrist. I recognized things that belonged to me. Royce was no exception.
I placed the butter in the nightstand. The drawer never closed. My sudden need for gratification wouldn’t allow it.
I rested my head on the pillow behind me, elongating my body until I was flat on my back. My erection fought for relevancy in the wake of my desires. Sexual tension plagued me.
I fisted my dick, coating it with the Vaseline from my nightstand. Involuntarily, my eyelids sealed themselves. My chest caved. My stomach stiffened. And, my breaths deepened.
There she is.
The grip around my tool tightened as Royce appeared without even a hair out of place.
And, it wasn’t her phone her fingertips met continuously.
It was my shoulders. The heels that she conquered any fucking thing she put her mind to in were planted on each side of me, giving her the stability she needed to rise and descend.
“Shit,” I whispered, clenching every muscle in my body.
High cheeks, large almond eyes, slim frame, pearly white teeth, kissable nose, full lips, and an ass that had no business being so unforgettable, promised me a life of unpredictability.
Up.
Down.
I stroked my dick as I watched our bodies connect. I disappeared in her wetness.
Up.
Down.
She was sloppy. In bed was the only time the adjective deserved the right as a descriptor. Otherwise, it didn’t belong in the same sentence as Royce.
Up.
Down.
“Fuck,” I breathed out.
The curling of my toes signaled my undoing. I wasn’t prepared. The air was too nippy. The silence was repulsive. The solitude was unbecoming.
I released my bone. Its steadiness remained as I grabbed my cell. I scanned the contact list and landed on Asia. One tap on the camera icon and FaceTime was initiated.
Her pretty face appeared after the second ring. I was certain it wouldn’t make it past the third one.
“Hello, Ishma–”
Her bottom lip folded into her mouth. Those light brown eyes of hers glistened with desperation. I resumed, massaging my dick for her viewing pleasure.
Up.
Down.
“Asia?”
“Yes, baby?” Pouty lips questioned.
Asia was ready. Asia was always ready. Her contact should’ve been Ready instead of her government name.
“Come put him down.”
“I’m coming.”
I ended the call. The exchange of words had reached its cliff. I tossed my cell on the bed and closed the drawer of my nightstand. Its contents were secured.
My feet carried me back into the bathroom where I cleansed my dick of the greasy substance. There would be no use for it where it was headed.
In her mouth.
Down her throat.
Deep in her pussy.
I tossed the warm towel as the doorbell alerted me of a visitor.
7:45p
Four minutes. Flat.
That was a new record for Asia. I wasn’t complaining. My erection had yet to relieve me of the aches from the rigidness.
She was heavy on my mind.
Royce. Royce Childers.
I doubted it subsided on its own. I’d need assistance. I’d need Asia.
“Good evening, Ishmael.”
Her lips moved slowly.
“Front door open.” The alarm sounded.
I searched her big, light brown eyes for the unknown. I was only met with the desperation that pushed her forward, into my pad.
I secured the lock and turned on my heels. Asia’s feet were no longer on the floor. Her knees had replaced them. The tube dress she wore pooled beneath her. She was pantiless. Braless. Senseless.
My towel was no longer around my waist. And, my hard dick was no longer kissing the air. Asia was kissing it. Longingly. Lovingly. Gently.
“Good evening, Asia,” I groaned, placing my hand on the back of her head.
Darkness filled every pixel of my vision as my head fell backward, leaning against the door.
Good fucking evening.