Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
Jamilah thought she’d run out of tears, but the sight of Rashad as she opened the door reopened the fountain.
“Hey, come on, now,” he said, taking her into his arms and running his hands over the Rapunzel-like hair that, after lounging on the couch and the bed, made her look less like Beyoncé and more like someone whose finger had met an electrical outlet.
“Shh. Come on. Let’s sit down.”
They did. Rashad walked into her kitchen and found a bottle of water in the fridge. He went to the bathroom, ran cold water over a washcloth, and brought both back to her.
“Here, wash your face.”
Jamilah took the facecloth and breathed slowly as she held it over her eyes.
“That’s it. Now drink this water.”
She dutifully obeyed.
He reached over, gently lifted her chin with his fingers, and used his other hand to swipe away an errant tear.
Jamilah walked over to a box of tissues on the bar counter. She walked into the bathroom. Rashad heard the nose-blow, a flush, and a door opening. All the while he had one question.
What happened?
She sat down, reopened the bottle, and took a long swig. Rashad remained quiet, giving her time to collect herself.
When she began speaking, her voice was soft. She looked away from him, toward the large-paned windows, unconsciously wringing her hands as she spoke.
“I had an ongoing issue with the IRS. Worked out a payment arrangement. Fell behind when business slowed. They garnished the business account. Left Side Chic’k with a whopping one hundred bucks.”
“Without any notice?”
“They sent them. I just hadn’t seen them. I’d signed up to go paperless, and somehow they didn’t make it to my main inbox. They went to another file.”
“Damn, babe. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Me, too.” She took another swallow of water.
“As bad as having all my money stolen is, that isn’t the worst thing that happened today.”
“What could be worse than that?”
“My father’s ultimatum. The business or you.”
“You told him about us?”
“I was distraught, Rashad, but not crazy.” She described the visit with her father.
“I think he was secretly okay with what happened. Almost as if getting his way was the most important thing. He doesn’t know you but never liked you.
Always wanted you gone. All he saw was your paperwork, never Rashad the person.
Getting garnished swung the ball of power back in his court.
To keep my business I have to play by his rules. ”
Rashad took her hand. “You know there’s no love lost on this end regarding your father. But still, cut him some slack.”
“Like he cut you some?”
“You’re his daughter. He’s trying to protect you. He’s not used to being questioned. As law enforcement, he’s used to his commands being followed. I’m a threat because you went against him and took my side. You’ve bruised his ego. Men have big egos.”
Jamilah gave him a look and offered her first real smile of the afternoon. To Rashad, it was like sunshine on a cloudy day.
“We can be stubborn. We don’t like being wrong. But guess what? The man he wanted to run out of your life might just be the one who can help you save your business.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But I believe I can, so it has to happen.”
“Rashad, to keep my business, you have to get fired. Why would you help me when you need a job?”
“Because I care about you, Jamilah.” He reached up and tenderly tucked an errant tendril behind her ear. “And I’m ride-or-die with those I care about.”
The room became silent. Rashad jumped off the couch. “Have you eaten?”
“No. Not hungry.”
“I’m starved, baby. I saved my appetite for tonight, so now there’s a hole in my stomach.”
When Jamilah remained silent, Rashad got up and did what cooks do. Went scrounging around in a seldom-used kitchen and made magic with eggs, cheese, and a can of mixed veggies.
Jamilah sat wondering what had just happened. His declaration of caring had left her breathless. The quick mood shift left her speechless and confused.
He brought Jamilah’s plate to where she sat. Watching her scarf down his food gave him immense pleasure. “Changing your mind about food in a can?”
“I never said I was against all canned goods. We’ve got them in the pantry. I just said I prefer fresh, organic, and locally grown.”
Jamilah finished her plate, set it on the coffee table, and drank the second water he’d brought her.
“I wasn’t hungry until the smell of your food made my mouth water.
I hadn’t eaten all day. I appreciate you coming over, Rashad.
I was in a dark place. You cheered me up. Fed me. How can I thank you?”
“I can show you better than I can tell you. Come here.”
She scooted over to close the distance between them.
He ran his hands through her tresses and began kissing her all over her face.
The soft, measured foreplay, like banked embers, quickly roared into a flame.
Rashad pulled off his T-shirt, then stood to remove his jeans.
Jamilah followed suit, throwing her sweater and yoga pants on top of his pile.
He laid her on the couch, kissed her with passion, his hips matching the swirling motion of his tongue.
Jamilah spread her legs to accommodate him, ran her hands up and down his back.
She grabbed his hard ass and squeezed. It was as though a muscle there was connected to his manhood.
His penis grew faster than a lying Pinocchio’s nose.
Feeling his girth, her lips quivered and became slick with dew.
He shifted for better access to her pussy.
Jamilah had a different idea. She grabbed his dick, kissed his thick, sensitive sac.
He hissed, then sighed, giving in to the pleasure.
She slid to her knees and employed the same techniques he’d used on her that first night.
Kissed his chest. Tugged his nipples. Outlined his six-pack with her tongue.
Teased the hair outlining his sex, while massaging his penis into a masterpiece resembling steel.
“Hmm.”
She kissed the tip, then sucked him into her mouth.
His hips created a rhythm of their own, bringing him in and out of her wetness.
Her mouth became a vacuum, her lips delicious friction.
He grabbed fistfuls of hair and directed her actions.
Only sheer will and honed discipline kept him from exploding.
“My turn.” His voice was raspy, a near growl as he pulled her from the couch, picked her up, and carried her to a wall. Using it as an anchor, he raised her high, then slid her wet flower down on his thick stem. Like salt and pepper. Eggs and bacon. Shrimp and grits. A perfect pairing.
Jamilah’s world shattered while pinned against the wall.
He continued the welcome assault, pounding and thrusting, until there were no more juices.
He led them to the bathroom. They took a shower together, then went to her bed where, after just toweling off, he made her wet again.
He eagerly lapped her up. Tickled her ass, his lips and tongue doing things that Jamilah had never experienced.
“Rashad! Oh my God, please!”
He lay down and directed her to climb on top. “Ride me, baby.”
Jamilah did as commanded. She twerked on his pole, bounced up and down, with no idea the vision of loveliness she made. Breasts jiggled. Hips did a slow grind on his heat. Long, curly tresses tickled him everywhere.
After several minutes of a slow sensual dance performed on his pole, Rashad heard Jamilah’s breath catch in her throat.
Her gyrations increased. The bouncing intensified.
Her mouth went slack. Soft ohs kept emitting from her throat until her muscles clenched, her body almost in suspended animation before a powerful orgasm sent her spiraling.
She collapsed beside him, her position perfect to perform his finale.
He lifted her leg, entered one final time and within minutes claimed his own release.
They lay spent, breathing heavily, sweaty, satisfied. When she opened her eyes, they met his, already staring at her.
“What?” she asked, running a hand through his locs.
“We have a problem, Boss Lady.”
“The money. I know.”
“Not that. I think I’m catching feelings for you. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“That’s what you meant earlier by ride-or-die?”
He nodded. Kissed the tip of her nose.
“I think Daddy suspects what I haven’t acknowledged. I’m catching something, too.”
Their laughter turned into a sensuous kiss. The atmosphere shifted. Something between them did, too. Whatever this was they were doing was forming into something, beginning to take on a name. Relationship? Partnership? Friendship? Soul mates?
Jamilah didn’t know which name to give it, but one thing was for sure. Whatever this was that was being created between them was something her father couldn’t control.
“Thanks again for coming over,” she whispered.
“Thank you for the invitation and such an enthusiastic welcome home.” He cuddled her against him and added, “I like your hair.”