Chapter 11
Deshona
You better stop teasing this man, especially after your last hookup. The last thing you need is another disappointment. How many batteries do you have?
From the intense look of challenge and promise in Alijah’s eyes, I really should listen to my conscience.
But the truth is, I’m more than curious about whether Alijah is capable of stroking me to sleep.
The number of times I have slid my fingers between my thighs and given myself an orgasm, simply from the memory of his impressive dick, warrants me to push the envelope right now.
Alijah didn’t make it any better when he selflessly jumped up to resolve the issue with my SUV this morning.
My original plan was to go to my appointment and come home to chill with a good book.
Days off are a hot commodity, and anytime I can get a moment to breathe, I choose to read.
But Alijah’s kindness made me change my plans, or I would have been repaying his actions with my mouth when I swallowed his anaconda-thick dick.
I have always struggled with honoring Mom’s men ain’t shit piggyback, but Alijah’s ass is definitely giving me several reasons to believe I simply needed a change in zip code. Damn him.
“Food’s g-getting cold.” My voice is just above a whisper as I push through my desire so we can get through this meal.
“We’ll pin that for now. This shit looks good though.” His husky words hit me dead smack in my pussy as she weeps in response.
I nod and disconnect my eyes from Alijah to the plate of food.
It wasn’t anything that took time, but the smothered pork chops, smashed potatoes, and parmesan-crusted broccoli definitely look delicious, if I do say so myself.
Confirmation comes when a masculine groan is heard beside me, and my head swiftly turns to look.
Alijah’s eyes are already on me with his fork in his mouth.
Gotdamn!
My panties flood with moisture at the sincere appreciation that shines within his eyes. I haven’t been this horny and attracted to a man since I was a teenager on a discovery mission of learning all the ways I could make myself cum.
“How would your mom feel if you went home on your next visit rocking my ring?”
A loud, unladylike laugh escapes my mouth, and I’m glad I’m not eating yet, or this could be more embarrassing than the laughter itself. But the thought of his suggestion and Mom’s response is funny as hell.
“The better question is, how fast can you run? If I come home married or even engaged, Mom will be convinced that you have trapped me or something else sinister. Either way, she’s gonna feel the need to kill or Lorena Bobbitt you.”
“Well damn. What’s the backstory for that level of violence? A nigga needs his family jewels and shit.” The dejected and deep frown on his lips causes another round of laughter from me. “Nah. That shit ain’t funny. I need some more information.”
I take a minute or two to quickly run down Mom’s hang-ups where men are concerned as Alijah eats and listens in silence. It’s crazy because I find myself wanting to make excuses for why Mom thinks what she does. But I don’t really know what I could say to downplay what I’ve shared.
“So, do you feel the same?”
I dig my fork into the potatoes and scoop some of the broccoli on before I place the portion in my mouth.
It allows me a second to consider and formulate my response.
I think it would be hard for people who have been groomed to think a certain way to separate what they’ve been taught from their own desires.
But my leaving Columbus was strategic, helping me escape the pressure to impose Mom’s narrative on how my life should go.
My biggest problem is attracting men like the ones I have often seen Mom entertain.
I know I deserve better, and the truth is, I want better. I want a man who rushes home just to lay his eyes on me. I want a man I can see transition from heartthrob to zaddy. I want love’s fairy tale.
“My differences are what brought me to this fair city. No, I don’t feel that way.”
“Good to know.”
Silence fills the room for countless seconds, and all that can be heard is the clanking of forks against plates as we partake in the meal I cooked.
“You said you relocated too. Where are you from originally, and what made you leave?” I ask when I grow tired of the lack of conversation.
I’m curious to finally get the chance to learn more about Alijah.
We’ve been like two ships passing in the night, and it’s something I would love to change.
We’re sharing this apartment, and getting the opportunity to talk or even hang out would be a nice addition since I don’t have any friends here.
Since Alijah seems to hang out here most of the time, I assume that he, too, left his friends wherever he came from.
“Born and raised in Ribax, so not far from here or your home city. I didn’t see myself running from a woman, but here I am.”
My eyes stretch, and my head shifts to look at him dead on because part of me is unsure if he’s joking or not.
“A-are . . . do you have a wife that will be popping up here soon?” My nose twists, my chest tightens, and my thoughts scramble like we’re in a heavy game of Wordsy.
I lean away from Alijah like he has crabs, and I’m scared one of them will jump on me due to our close proximity.
“Why your little ass scooting away and shit? I ain’t fucking married.”
My lips twist into a 'yeah, right' expression as I look him up and down for a couple of seconds.
“Man, you're tripping. Hold on.” Without waiting for me to say anything, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. When the rings sound around the room, my forehead wrinkles.
Who the hell is he calling?
“Well, hello, absentee son of mine. Had I known your narrow ass would vacate more than the city, I might have put up more of a fight to keep you here.” The woman's instantaneous rant the minute the call connects makes me fight the urge to laugh.
“Check me later, Ma. Do you remember when I got married?” Alijah’s heavy eyes peer into me as shuffling and air sounds from the receiver like the phone has been dropped.
“Married? What the hell are you talking about? If you ran off and got married without me, I’m kicking your ass, Alijah Khali Dawson. You got me fucked up.” The woman I now know is Alijah’s mother gets louder with each word she spews.
“I would never do something so foul. But I needed you to confirm my status. I’m gonna call you back, though.” His eyes are still on me as I squirm in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable.
“What? You call here, get me all stirred up, and now you want to call me back. Precious Jesus, . . . Mighty wonder of my soul, . . . help this nappy head nigga that you blessed me with.”
That cracks my armor, and I giggle uncontrollably from the distressed tone of her voice. Clearly, Alijah has pushed her buttons with this attempt to prove his point to me.
“Who is—”
“I promise I’ll call you back, Ma.” Alijah’s tone is firmer as he cuts his mother off before he disconnects the call.
“Smooth, Mr. Dawson,” I say before a light smirk slides into place.
“Not trying to be. But I’m not a liar either. Let’s finish this food, and then we can dive deeper.”
I nod as we return to our meals and consume them without any additional interruption.
Nervous energy courses through my body from intrigue about the conversation that’s about to happen.
I’m extremely curious to find out which woman managed to get a man like Alijah to vacate his birthplace.
In my short observation of the man beside me, he’s been confident, unbothered, and chill, so what type of person messed up his comfort to that extent?
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to eat, clean the kitchen, and head to the living room.
“Wow. You mean there were two other women besides your girlfriend? You actually turned down three women who were ready, open, and willing to let you do whatever you wanted to them? I’m uh . . .” My words trail off because the story Alijah had just shared with me is unreal and unheard of.
“I was in a committed relationship with a woman who had what I needed to be satisfied. Random pussy ain’t ever been my thing.” Alijah’s face is tight, and his eyes light up with fire that I feel the heat from.
“Damn,” I whisper.
“Yeah. That shit fucked me up. Seeing my woman’s face coated in pussy juice isn’t the flex most would expect.”
I nod, unsure how to respond, because of all the wild things I’ve experienced in my dating life, this is a new one on me.
It also shows me how different Alijah is, because beneath his rage lies sadness.
He loved that woman, and she threw him away without regard for his feelings.
Bitches like her will never understand the weight of holding someone else’s heart in their hands.
“She . . . man, I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t try. I’ve moved on.”
But has your heart?
“O . . . hm . . . okay.” I wet my lips as I try to settle my mind and the various thoughts that slam into my mind at hyper speed.
“Back to you. What are you looking for in a man now?”
“Honestly, the basics . . . emotional safety, great communication, kindness, and intentionality. Of course, I also want to be attracted to him, but not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Chemistry is also important. How about you?”
Alijah stares at me deadpan before a light chuckle falls from his lips, and the sound hits me low and deep.
I lick my suddenly dry lips as I unconsciously fidget with my hands.
The urge to lean closer and see if his lips are as soft as they look takes shape in my mind.
My body heats as I sit in expectation of whatever answer he’s about to provide.
“Thanks to my ex, I’m looking for someone who will share my values and direction for the future. My parents have been married for longer than I’ve been alive, and they’re my example. I want forever but with someone worth spending it with.”
Well damn.
It takes me a minute to register the movement of my body, and before I can stop myself, my mouth is on Alijah’s mouth.
A moan sounds as I communicate with my lips that he can not only have love but also find it again.
I close my eyes because Alijah’s lips are soft, warm, and welcoming, and I get lost in our gentle yet steady kiss.
It’s a kiss full of passion, and it can only lead to one conclusion.
That’s the thought that snaps me back to reality as I pull back.
“Damn, Dee,” Alijah says on a heavy groan.
My panties are moist and desperately need to be removed. But I’m stuck in a trance as I trace my now swollen lips.
“I suggest you run now, or I guarantee the next action will be one you don’t regret.”
Despite my desire to find out the meaning of his declaration, I follow his advice and hightail it out of the living room.
My heart thumps wildly, and the vein in my neck drums to its own cadence.
I want to take it there with Alijah, but the truth is, I don’t want him to regret anything.
Our conversation took a vulnerable turn that would only lead me to regret his intentions about fucking her out of his system.
When we cross that line, and from that soul-binding kiss, nothing but smiles and repeat orgasms will be on our minds.
I ain’t built to be a rebound chick. But damn if I don’t ride that big dick like a bull.