1. Cedar Omarion Jackson #2
Now, both my sisters and their husbands were on the dance floor with the other guests.
My parents were out on the floor, and my dad was feeling my mom up like a horny ass nigga.
Emmett’s parents were super slow dancing to Wale’s “Matrimony” featuring Usher.
Taylor and Monica were dancing and giggling like a happy newlywed couple.
And if that shit wasn’t bad enough, Sunday was out there dancing with my cousin Jamal.
The song switched from “Matrimony” to “Crush” by Yuna and Usher. My sister was a major Usher fan, hence the playlist. When my cousin Rod’s ass rolled up on Sunday and pulled her from Jamal, I knew it was time to dead that shit.
Rod wasn’t shit, but he pulled the honeys like nobody’s business.
It was like females couldn’t say no to his curly-haired, deep dimpled, hazel-eyed, pretty boy ass.
He wasn’t about to run through my roommate the way he did the other girls, though.
I had to live and work with her, and that shit would blow back on me.
“I need all the lovers on the floor tonight. Ladies, get your man on the floor. If your man ain’t here, grab the one you’re crushing on,” the deejay announced just as I stood from my seat.
Several girls headed toward me as I walked to the dance floor. Sunday beelined in my direction, cutting all them heffas off.
“Aye! Where’re you going?” Rod asked, rushing behind Sunday.
“I need to get back with my man.”
I didn’t wait for Rod to say shit. I simply grabbed Sunday’s hand and pulled her against me.
“Damn, cuz. Like that?”
“Didn’cha ass bring a woman?”
“Hell nah. You know how I do.”
“My point exactly. Your ass ain’t ’bout to do shit with my li’l homie.”
Rod snickered, and I heard him mumble something about me worried about him stealing my girl. I wasn’t on his bullshit.
“Thought ya li’l ass would be tired by now,” I mumbled.
“I thought you would have rested and saved me from your thirsty cousins.”
Sunday giggled, but it slid off her face as the deejay made his next announcement. There were lots of singles at the reception, so the dance floor wasn’t crowded with people.
“Men.”
We all looked at the deejay booth. “Show your woman what she means to you. Don’t be scared. Show her what them lips do.”
There was laughter throughout the reception hall, except for between Sunday and me. Her eyes ballooned as she stared at me.
“It’s all good. I know I asked you here to ward off my matchmaking ass mama and aunts.”
“And to protect your heart from shattering at the sight of your ex-wife and her girlfriend all night.” Sunday smirked.
“And that. But you ain’t gotta do that shit.”
“Come on, men. Show your girl what you’re working with,” the deejay called out again.
Sunday looked around, and I did too. Everyone was kissing on the floor except for us. And the single women and men on the edge of the floor were watching us.
“It’s okay. Do what you gotta do. I’m good, Cedar. I promise.”
“I’m not trying to disrespect you.”
“You’re not. I came here under the pretense of being your woman. Might as well give them a show,” Sunday declared and caressed the nape of her neck with her fingers that were casually draped behind me.
My family had betted on Sunday and me transitioning from roommates to lovers over a year ago.
Although it hadn’t happened, we led my family to believe that it had.
It was all so that I could save face with my ex-wife who turned up at the wedding with the woman she cheated on me with.
I felt bad for lying to my family because they had always liked Sunday, but it couldn’t be helped.
I moved one hand from around her waist and carefully cupped her chin. Tilting her head back, I caressed her chin with my index finger and thumb.
“You sure?”
Her nut-brown eyes narrowed, and her lids lowered slightly.
“I’m sure.” I could have misread the moment, but Sunday’s voice was thick and husky.
I knew that I shouldn’t do it despite what she said.
I knew I should have said “fuck what everyone thinks,” but I couldn’t.
The temptation to do what I’d wanted to do for some time was too great, and now she was giving me permission.
I brushed my lips gently across hers as I held her chin in place. I repeated the gesture gently several times before I pressed into them. Sunday pressed back and licked my lips with her tongue. That shit caught me off guard.
I pressed back into the kiss. Sunday whimpered, and I pulled her closer.
Her soft curves felt like they belonged against my body.
Her warm, sweet fragrance tickled my nose.
Her lips, curves, and scent all combined to create an intoxicating elixir that had me drunk off her aura and not wanting to pull back from the kiss.
If my dick jumped in my pants, that wouldn’t have been too bad. Sunday was beautiful, smart, funny, and sexy as hell. But that wasn’t the only thing that happened.
A warm glow filled my insides, and my heart squeezed in my chest like I was having a heart attack. My hand dropped from her chin, dragged over her shoulder, and down her arm. My other hand tightened around her waist, not wanting to let go, but even as the song switched up, I knew that I needed to.
There was just one problem. When I tried to pull back from the kiss, Sunday pressed deeper into it. What the fuck had I just done?
My little homie, my roommate, and the woman who worked for the same company that I did had always been off-limits.
I knew that she wasn’t ready for a nigga like me, who was damaged goods.
From the first time I found myself attracted to her, I vowed that I would never pull her into my shit.
But now, . . . I would never be able to forget the kiss.