Chapter 8 #3
“Are you ready to listen?”
I nodded, head scrubbing against the door.
“I need words, Royce.”
He twisted his fingers inside of me.
“Yes. Yessss.”
“Yes what?”
He pulled them forward, toward him.
“I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?”
He curled them forward a centimeter more.
“I’m ready to listen.”
“That’s my baby,” he whispered against my ear.
Beckoning for my orgasm, he stroked my G-spot forcing my arms around him, pulling him closer.
“Ishmael. Oh Go– Yesss. Yessssss. Yesss.”
“Shit is pathetic,” he mumbled.
It was. I was. This was. I hadn’t been touched this way. Not before him. And, I doubted I’d be touched this way after him. Ishmael was staking his claim. Ishmael was unraveling me so effortlessly.
His skillset was apparent. He was a pleaser. A fucker. A man after a woman’s whole heart, starting with her pussy and working his way up.
“I’m gonna cum–”
“That’s why we’re here, my baby.”
As the words left his mouth, my soul left my body. I slammed my eyelids shut and leaned my head against the door. I lost control of my limbs. A gush of my gratification led way to my undoing.
My sprinkler was ignited. I wet my threads, Ishmael’s threads, the floor, his fingers, and my bottom half.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuuuuuuuuck.”
He continued extracting my pent up frustration, pain, loneliness, disappointment, despair, sexual tension, and desire.
“Ishmael. Please. Please.”
My stomach knotted. My abdomen tingled with pleasure. My legs grew numb.
His lips crashed into mine, silencing me.
He tasted so sweet. He tasted like he belonged to me.
I tried removing his tongue from his mouth.
My hunger would be the rebirth of me. A newer me.
One that wasn’t afraid of what Ishmael had to offer me.
One that wasn’t afraid to risk it all for a love I knew he could offer.
One that understood Chemistry’s choice to love Egypt in spite of everything.
One that had chosen to listen, learn, and fall head first for the man before me.
Ishmael ejected his fingers. As I released him from my mouth, I came to the realization that nothing would be the same beyond this moment.
Silence coated the uncertainty swelling my chest. My vulnerability was on the shoulders of my fabric.
My emotions were all over the place. I was tender.
Just as he wanted me. Just as he had made me.
Ishmael wet a napkin. He cleaned the mess he’d made as best he could.
He patted my skin gently, hoping not to miss a spot.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. Something was happening inside of me.
Something was changing. Something was altered.
I felt things shift in my chest, making room for him.
Saving a spot for him. Expanding to accommodate him and all that came with him.
He cleansed my hands with a soapy towel and then followed up with water.
He did the same for himself. His eyes were penetrating my sensitivity.
They searched me as he moved about the restroom.
I didn’t have anything to give, except everything.
Every part of me. I was defenseless. He could have it all. All of me.
He discarded the paper towels as he had my boundaries.
“Feel better now?” He asked, readjusting his rigidness.
I swallowed back my tears. “Yes.”
Without another word, he grabbed me by the hand.
Click.
The door unlocked. So did my heart. We stepped out into the restaurant. Ishmael took my purse, understanding of my inability to carry anything but the heaviness of my heart at the moment. He slid his hand up my arm, neck, and check, pulling me closer. He planted a kiss on my forehead.
“I’ll have you home soon, my baby.”
Ishmael sat inches away. The private plane featured a small main cabin, fit for a family of six or less. It was intimate. It was dark. It represented so many parts of our night.
“You are beautiful, Royce.”
I inhaled, but quickly forgot to exhale. It wasn’t until his phone camera was in my face that I noticed I was turning blue. I released the oxygen.
“Thank you.”
My cheeks flushed with gratitude.
I unlocked my phone and found the pinned texts from the people in my world who meant the most to me.
“Don’t be too harsh on me in that recap. I mean well, Royce.”
I looked up from my phone, a smile tearing through my face.
I didn’t bother responding. Ishmael caring how I presented him to others sat with me.
I know. I responded internally. I know.
I skipped the messages I’d missed for the evening. Instead, I started a message of my own.
When I said this is just business, I, wholeheartedly, meant his business. My businesses. Our business.
I know that’s the fuck right. Fine as he is, he better have a big dick or this is just a waste of all of our excitement. Roulette was the first to respond.
She pushed a chuckle from my lips. It was low. Hardly notable.
I saw it. I saw it on the screen. Some things we aren’t able to pretend. Range noted.
I can feel it through the images, babes. Egypt claimed.
Maybe I’m in love. A heart emoji followed.
I didn’t care to see their responses tonight. I’d revisit them when the sun rose. For now, I wanted to let my thoughts run wild. I wanted my attention undivided. I wanted Ishmael in my line of vision. And, Ishmael only.
I lost track of time in his eyes. In his smile. In his presence. Ishmael was consuming. In the best ways. In the richest ways. In the most pleasant ways.
Shortly after we’d boarded miles and miles away, I slid into the Aston Martin.
He closed the door behind me. My eyes were planted on the private plane.
Grayson was sprawled across the tail. It was a small detail I hadn’t noticed as we approached it on the tarmac in Clarke.
So much was clearer now that we’d landed.
Ishmael settled into the driver seat. The pressure he applied to the gas pedal glued my body to the seat. His hand snaked across the center console, landing on my knee. He rubbed upward, finally finding comfort mid-thigh. Naturally, my fingers wrapped around his hand.
I rested my head and my heart, unsure of where we were headed. However, it wasn’t my concern, not as long as Ishmael was leading. I found comfort in his touch, his guidance, and the twinkling lights of the Berkeley night sky.
I couldn’t recall a moment that felt better than this one.
Not even the first time seeing Teddy after he’d treaded those waters with his bare hands, back, and legs.
Not even the birth of Jru. That had all been a part of their stories.
This was mine. And, this would be a memory that forever stuck with me.