Chapter 12
twelve
. . .
Day Five
Cassidy
Hendrix and I fused our lips roughly against each other, and he lifted my dress over my thighs. His wandering hands naturally found the curve of my hips and rested there. He pressed his dick against me, and I felt it growing harder by the minute.
“I want you to drain it,” he whispered against my lips.
I protested with the shake of my head. “Hendrix, we can’t…”
He pressed his thumb against my clit, and my hips gaped open like the iPhone Touch I.D. granting him instant access to the treasure between my thighs.
“Please, stop…this—this isn’t right,” I mumbled while letting him slip my lace panties to the side. My mouth said one thing, but my body said another. It was clear that my mind and dripping wet pussy weren’t on the same page.
“Tell me it’s mine, Cass,” he decreed, driving his fingers into the depths of my tightness.
“Stop before I cum,” I moaned.
He leaned in to place wispy kiss my neck. “I’ll stop when you tell me it’s mine.”
“It’s yours!” I cried out as he finger-fucked me to my peak. “It’s all fuckin’ yours.”
Hendrix’s expressive eyes closed in on mine as he slowly pulled his sticky fingers away and sucked the sweetness of my juices off them. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said before bending down to kiss me.
My sweat-drenched body shot up in my bed as my heart drummed in my chest. My bugged-out eyes quickly scanned the room to confirm that I was alone and that everything I’d experienced had only occurred in my wildest dreams. That nigga had just made me cum in my sleep without laying a finger on me.
“Fuck!” I groaned, flopping my head back against the plush bed pillow.
I swept a few braids out of my face and tried to settle my thoughts.
I was so horny, I felt like my brain was spinning on its axis.
He said good dick and advice was what I needed.
He’d already given up the advice, and my body was more than ready for the dick.
In an effort to cool the blazing thoughts in my head, I swiped up my vibrator and hit the shower to take the edge off.
Thirty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom looking and feeling as fresh as a daisy. The moment I decided to venture out of my room and into the common areas, I saw a shirtless Hendrix coming in from the pool terrace. My eyes outlined his washboard-tight stomach before speaking up.
“H—hey,” I greeted him while squeezing my thighs together.
“Hey, yourself.”
“What were you about to do?” I probed.
“Well, I was going to go outside and do a couple laps in the pool, but it looks like it’s about to storm.”
His statement made me turn my eyes to the nearest window. Patches of dark clouds covered the sky, blocking out all light from the sun. I’d been too preoccupied with my own dark desires to even notice the change in the weather.
“You think it’s gonna be a quick shower or an all-day thing?”
“I checked the weather and it’s supposed to go all day, storms and all that.”
I lowered my head. “Damn, I wanted to go check out some of the local shops today, but it looks like I’m going to be kicking it here.”
“You talk to your girls?”
I lifted my shoulders in a slight shrug. “Nah, I’m not even gon’ bother. If the weather is like this, then I already know all them hoes is booed up.”
“Oh, so I see we both gon’ be in the house bored.”
“Well, in that case, do you wanna watch a movie or somethin’?”
“Yeah, turn on the TV and see what they got that’s good,” he suggested, “and you better not pick no whack ass shit either.”
I sucked my teeth. “Whatever. And while I’m doing that, you can order us some breakfast.”
“That’s cool. I was just about to make myself some coffee. You want one?”
“Coffee sounds good.”
“How do you take it?” he inquired, raising his eyebrow in interest.
My cheeks burned hot. “Excuse me?”
He smirked. “How do you take your coffee, Cassidy?”
I swallowed loudly. “Oh, uh two sugars, two creams. You?”
“Black. I don’t do all the extra sugars and shit.”
“Oh, I forgot you gotta keep that body right,” I teased.
“You look like you know a thing or two about that yourself.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to prevent a smirk from appearing across my face. “Was that your way of complimenting me?” I quizzed while making my way into the living room to turn on the TV.
“Maybe,” he baited me.
I clicked on the movie streaming app and typed in letters until The Wood showed up. The pregnant thunder clouds soon gave way to billions of dime-sized raindrops just as I tapped play.
“Shit, it don’t look like we gon’ be gettin’ food delivered anytime soon,” Hendrix announced, listening to the rumble of the downpour around us.
He made his way around to the couch and handed me a steaming hot coffee mug as I curled my feet underneath me.
A few minutes into the movie, my eyes traveled over to Hendrix whose torso was comfortably outstretched across the couch.
As ceaseless rain pelted from the sky, we laid lazily across the oversized couch cushions indulging in our favorite movie.
We shared a common laugh when young Mike tried to teach himself how to dance and when him and his boys found themselves caught in the middle of a convenience store robbery on the way to the dance.
I woke up to the savory smells of food wafting past my nose without even realizing the cloudburst of rain from the Caribbean storm had ushered me off to sleep. Intrigued by the smell, I lazily made my way into the kitchen.
“What smells so good in here?”
“I just finished throwing down in this mothafucka. That’s what smells so good in here,” he boasted.
I rolled my eyes. “Boy, please.”
“C’mon, sit down. Let’s eat.”
I followed him into the dining room where all the food was already plated and laid out to perfection. We had lobster bisque and Caesar salad to start. Followed by seafood pasta with lobster sauce, and chocolate truffle cake topped with vanilla bean ice cream for dessert.
“Wow,” I said, clanking my chocolate-stained spoon on the side of the plate, “this was amazing.”
“Hell yeah.”
“You uh, really put it down. All this food and not one dirty dish,” I teased.
He rolled his tongue against his teeth before smiling. “Yeah, uh about that. I may have had a private chef prepare all this shit and deliver it to us, but I did reheat it. That’s what had it smellin’ so good.”
I grinned as a soft chuckle whipped past my lips. “I know, but I wasn’t gon call you out. I knew you didn’t know your way around the kitchen that damn good, but it was a nice gesture,” I said, ushering a coy shrug.
“Oh, so I was caught from the beginning, huh?”
“Yeah, you were.”
“You cook?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Barely. I make the essentials, trust me. Ramen, spaghetti, fried chicken and cereal,” I confessed as my shoulders silently shook with laughter.
“Ah, hell!” he teased.
A wide grin spread across my face. Being around Hendrix felt new and fresh like the reset button I needed. I’d gone from a permanent scowl to frowns to all thirty-two teeth-showing smiles. “Shut up! Do you cook?”
“I got a couple signature dishes.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I’ve perfected a good grilled salmon, and my mama’s mac and cheese recipe.”
“Shit, at least your mom gave you something useful. All I got was constant nagging.”
“Word? I always thought you had the perfect lil’ family set up.”
“I didn’t know you noticed, but uh, no—it wasn’t.
Far from it, actually. Growing up, my mother was the type of person whose love didn’t come free.
I had to buy it; and not with money, but with things that would make her actually care to admit that I was her daughter.
Stand up straight, don’t slouch. Don’t grind your teeth.
Marry up. Get an education. You’re putting on extra weight, go workout.
Do something with your hair. No one will ever notice you if you dress like that. ”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, so if I wasn’t perfect then I wasn’t her daughter. If I wasn’t winning, I wasn’t her daughter. If I wasn’t number fucking one, I wasn’t her daughter.”
“That’s crazy.”
“After my father died, I put some much-needed distance between me and Inglewood and never looked back.”
“Y’all still talk?”
I shrugged. “She calls from time to time, mainly to tell me how I could’ve done something better from something she saw posted on my Facebook. You know, always criticizing me about something.”
“You don’t need that type of energy in your life.”
“Eh, I’m used to it by now, but that’s exactly why I live in San Jose. But at the end of the day, she’s still my mother. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about that.”
“I don’t give a fuck who she is. That’s negative as hell and you don’t need that shit. Nobody fuckin’ needs that shit. If I was you, I would’ve been told her about herself.”
I was over talking about my mother, so I decided to change the subject. “What about you? How’s your family?”
He let out a soft sigh. “Pops is good. He’s got about another ten before he’s even eligible for parole. Moms is doing good, too. She got her house and her cars and shit like she’s always had, so you ain’t gon’ hear a complaint outta her.”
“What did they say about the trade?”
“Pops told me to keep my head up and stay focused on the game. Whereas, Moms don’t really give a fuck as long as I’m still doing what I love, and the money is coming in.”
I frowned. “Damn.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Real talk, this conversation is about to drive me to drink. You want a shot?” I offered.
“Sure.”
“Oh, and before I forget, Lauryn invited me to her birthday dinner tomorrow night. I hope that’s cool.”
“Yeah, no. That’s fine.”
“You sure? I don’t want you to think I’m tryna impede all on your trip and shit.”
“It’s just a meal, Hendrix. It’s fine.”
A three-course meal and two Shots of D’usse later, I was feeling buzzed and frisky. I paced back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, cleaning off the table and putting our dishes in the sink. Hendrix occupied himself by pouring us a third shot and bringing it over to me.
“Bottoms up,” he said.