Chapter 11
ELEVEN
I connected the back of the earring with the fastener. Carefully, I slid the fastener upward, stopping near my earlobe. In the full-length mirror hanging on the wall of the study, I peered at my reflection.
The fresh blow out Flo had worked wonders on was swaying with each turn of my head. The virgin hair was perfect for the style. The ending result belonged in one of the hair magazines from the nineties. My extensions were flourishing.
Ding.
Dong.
Ishmael was eighteen minutes early. So was I. Anxiousness swelled my chest. I’d been waiting for the moment I saw his handsome face since he vanished into thin air this morning.
I missed him. So did my girl downstairs. She purred at the thought of the time they’d spent together.
In the kitchen.
On the counter.
In the shower.
In the shower again.
And, on the bed.
I was sure the foam remembered me well.
The dress hugged me tightly around the waist and hips. It was sleeveless, backless, and strapless. It was held up by the skin of my breasts.
Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.
I stood in front of the alarm’s hub. One tap and the front of the condo was in my view. My brows furrowed as I made note of the three figures standing near the door.
The camera’s feed wasn’t satisfying enough. I needed to lay eyes on the visitors.
Click.
Clack.
I opened the front door and was greeted by a slick smile and open arms.
“Milo!”
His long arms wrapped around me. As he stepped forward, I stepped back. The door closed shortly after our entrance. I was too wrapped up in his presence to note who had sealed it.
“What’s good, sis?”
I was released against my will, but I accepted my fate and fell into a new set of arms.
“Lawe!”
“What’s up, cuz?”
He rocked my body from one side to the other before letting me go.
“It’s so good to see you.”
The third pair of arms remained at their owner’s side. His hands were pushed into his pockets. His light skin and pleasant features hardened my nipples. I racked my brain trying to figure out if I was violating some type of unwritten code or rules.
“When you enter someone’s home, you open your mouth and speak,” I reminded the third guest.
“This ain’t your home, love,” he reminded me.
He removed a hand from his pocket to twirl the toothpick between his teeth.
“It’s mine while I’m in it.”
“I’m exempt from hugs and I’m not complaining. Follow suit.”
“Fuck you.”
“Trust me. If I wasn’t madly in love with my wife and you didn’t look like family then we could arrange something.”
“My nipples don’t get hard for family,” I told him, “You’re about twelve times removed, anyway. Not exactl–”
“Royce,” Milo called out.
“Baisleigh gon’ grill your ass like cheese if you keep fucking around.”
“She doesn’t have to worry,” I assured Lawe, “He’s safe.”
“Am I, cousin?”
I tossed a middle finger and turned toward Milo.
“How’s Nature? And, the babies?”
“Everybody’s good.”
“Fuck you headed looking like you have a seat at the Golden Globe?”
I rolled my eyes. Lawe couldn’t help himself. The insults were inevitable.
“And, you look like you’re headed to a funeral.”
“Never know when I might have to send a nigga to meet the Lord, so I’m always dressed for the occasion.”
“Headed out?” Milo questioned.
“I am, actually. Date night.”
“With that nigga you been all over the news with?” Lawe peered at me with curious eyes. Red surrounded the dark brown circles.
I nodded.
“Ishmael.”
Milo said nothing. He stood, waiting for the unknown.
“What?” I sniggered.
“Nothing. You look happy. I’m just here to make sure it’s not a facade.”
I shook my head. “It’s not a facade, Milo.”
“Then we won’t hold you.”
The three of them inched toward the door. They were prepared to leave as quickly as they’d come.
“Tell Malachi and Makai I said–”
“Tell ‘em yourself, Royce,” Milo yelled over his shoulder. “You’re welcomed to our cribs anytime.”
“I know.”
“Then act like it,” Lawe added.
“Why’d you have to bring him?” I laughed.
“He begs to come everywhere like motherfuckers actually want to be around him.”
“You’re the back up. Makai has fifteen kids. Nigga ain’t never free no more, so yo–”
“Just as busy,” Milo finished.
Milo was a physician and had two children of his own. He didn’t have time for Lawe, but he made time. Makai, on the other hand, didn’t care much about Lawe’s complaints.
“Goodnight, Milo.”
“Goodnight, Royce.”
“Goodnight, Lawe. Laike.”
“Be careful,” Laike murmured as he passed me by.
“Call me if motherfuckers want to jump stupid. I’m laying everything down,” Lawe yelled out as he made his way to the car.
“Goodnight.”
One final goodnight floated in their direction before I locked myself inside.
I pressed my back against the door, trying to recall if Laike had been that glorious the first time I’d met him.
I wasn’t sure what Baisleigh was feeding him besides pussy, but it had him swollen and scrumptious.
I couldn’t help but consider how much Luca had changed since I’d last saw him.
I shook them both from my thoughts and stepped away from the door. I spritzed Oak across my body, doubling down on the gorgeous scent. As I recapped it, the door bell chimed again. I tapped the screen of the alarm system.
My lips turned upward.
There he is.
I didn’t need another once over. Neither did I need to visit the bathroom again.
Behind the door was a bouquet of red roses. The hate I housed for flowers faded as they touched the skin of my nose.
“You’re pretty, my baby.”
Hearing his compliments while nose deep in the bouquet helped plead their case.
“And you—handsome.”
I straightened my spine.
Ishmael stepped inside. His invitation hadn’t come but I doubted he cared. He walked past me, headed for the kitchen as if he’d studied the blueprints of Mercer’s place. Like I’d done his.
I turned, admiring his backside as much as I did the front. He was dressed in his signature color. Black. It was designed with him in mind. I would confidently bet my last dollar on it.
I didn’t deepen my presence. I remained near the door with the Chanel clutch in front of me, both hands on the handle. Within two minutes, Ishmael rounded the corner, quenching my thirst.
Soothing my soul.
Settling my kitty.
Calming my heart.
His hands flattened against my cheeks. I was casted into the darkness. Naturally, I aimed to savor every moment of us. My body’s response to another human was slowly altering my brain chemistry.
Nothing made sense. Yet, everything made perfect sense.
He tasted like the mint still on his tongue. I stole it from his mouth as I tried extracting the flavor from his buds. My nipples pebbled. Butterflies invited an entire exhibit of gentle creatures for a night out with us.
Ishmael. Your perfection is perplexing.
Not until I allowed it did he pull back. A thumb slid across his lip, cleaning the gloss I’d left behind. I rotated the mint on my tongue. The smirk on my face matched the one on his.
He leaned his head leftward, peering at me through a lustful haze. I abandoned his gaze in search of his rigidness. It greeted me behind the zipper of his slacks.
He ran a hand over his head. Decisions were being made internally. The struggle was loud. Obvious. Comical.
At once, Ishmael took me by the hand. He led me toward the front door. I was whisked into the night breeze. It swept across my skin, cooling my temperature.
“Lock the door, Royce.”
He stood behind me, observing as I pressed the lock button on the keypad. A Phantom awaited us. Black in color. It blended well with the night. Beside it was an unfamiliar face. I turned to Ishmael for an explanation. He leaned over, mouth near my ear.
“Gibson. Our driver for the night.”
I stepped forward, lowering my body onto the seat.
“Good evening, ma’am.”
“Good evening.”
I settled in. Ishmael did the same. The door closed behind us. Words tumbled from my lips.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re headed? And why we need a driver?”
“To dinner. One hosted by one of my largest donors.”
“And the driver?”
“I don’t plan on making it back home before I get my hands on you, my baby.”
His eyes found me as he revealed his truth.
“Ishm–”
“I’ve dreamt of your lips wrapped around my dick enough times to know what the roof of your mouth feels like against my head. Trust me, my baby, we’re not making it home before my dick is down your throat.”
His audacity was tantalizing. I straightened my posture, pushing my shoulders backward.
“A wise woman once told me… later isn’t promised. Put the dick in your mouth now.”
Roulette Childers was the wise woman.
Ishmael’s chest imploded.
“We have dinner, Royce. Stop while you’re ahead.”
His warning never reached me.
“You have dinner. I’m just a guest.”
“I want you snotty nosed and crying, love. That pretty face of makeup won’t survive. Wai–”
In front of Ishmael, I fell onto my knees. His objection was shortened. So was our conversation.
We shared the same dream. I was ready for us to share the same reality.
I unbuckled his belt. Curiosity lifted his eyebrows. I peeled the fabric from around the button of his slacks. Quietly, he watched as I attempted to undress him. I patted his right leg, urging him to lift up.
“Has your head always been this hard?” Ishmael questioned.
He lifted. I pulled downward. I didn’t mind ruining my makeup. There was more in my bag. His slacks, however, there weren’t a second pair of those in my bag. They had to come down.
“I’ve been told it’s wet… warm… w–”
My jaws nearly touched as my lips folded. I felt like a fish out of water. Puckered lips and bulging eyes.
“Watch your fucking mouth, my baby, before you remind me there are niggas still breathing that didn’t treat you the way you should’ve been treated.”
As he loosened his grip, I ran my tongue across my teeth. I tried suppressing the grin. It was useless.