Chapter 28
Juelz sat slouched on the black sectional, with an ice pack pressed to his bruised knuckles.
They were already swelling, split right across the bone.
He kept flexing his hand, trying to force the blood back into the places that felt dead.
Mar let Meeka trail him to Juelz’s penthouse in their car while he drove Juelz, lecturing him the whole ride, but he hadn't heard a word.
His mind was stuck on the image of Tasha, casually sitting with another man. It was a loop he couldn't turn off. He was brought out of his daze by a knock at the door.
One that cut through the silence of the penthouse. Juelz’s head snapped up. His heart did something he’d never felt before, jumped, then twisted. He dropped the ice and made his way to the door, not wanting company.
“Mar, nigga…Ion wanna hear no more of that shhiii—”
He stopped mid-sentence. The air left his lungs.
“Tash…” he breathed.
She stood there, frozen. Her chest was rising and falling in jagged rhythms, her eyes rimmed with the kind of red that only comes from a long, lonely drive.
She wanted to curse him out for the shit he said back at the restaurant, but seeing him there with his man bun and tatts exposed, her body made a different choice for her.
She grabbed his face with trembling hands, crashing her mouth against his. It wasn’t romantic at all. It was sloppy and desperate. It was the taste of salt, sorrow, and months of silence all spilling out at once.
Juelz stumbled back a step from the force of her, his hands instinctively catching her thighs, picking her up like muscle memory. He kicked the door closed with his foot.
“I can bite your fuckin’ lips off right now, Jue,” Tasha said, biting down on his lip.
“Fuck…Tasha… I’m so sorry, stank,” he whispered against her lips, she kissed him harder, fingers tangled in his dreads, breath shaking like she’d break if she stopped.
He pressed her against the wall, breathing her in, kissing her like he’d been dying for it.
“I need you, Jue,” she moaned, pulling him back, looking into his eyes. “I—I need you.”
He groaned low in his throat, forehead against hers, both of them gasping. “You sure?” he asked, even though he was already falling apart in her hands. “You was just with that lame ass nigga.”
The jealousy hit him fast, cutting through the lust. “Did you give that clown nigga my pussy, Tasha? Huh?”
She stopped mid-kiss, lips still touching his, but the warmth had evaporated. “No! Juelz—”
She pulled back enough to look him in the eye, hurt bleeding through her voice, “I didn’t sleep with him.”
He stepped back, the high of her touch replaced by a cold, manic paranoia. He paced a single step, his hands gripped at his head like he was trying to hold his skull together.
“Nah…nah.” His voice cracked. “You, you, you lyin’. I feel it. I feel that shit.” He pointed at her. “You gave that nigga some of my pussy.”
Her jaw dropped. “I told you I didn’t sleep with him!”
Juelz wasn’t believing that. They were looking too cozy at the restaurant. He was convinced she was just trying to ease the sting of his own betrayal with a lie. He dropped to the floor; his fist pressed against his temple as he crumbled a fist full of dreads. “Tash…man, why you do that?”
She kneeled in front of him, her hands reaching for his. “I told you, I didn’t sleep with him, Jue.” She yanked his face. “Look at me! Damn it.”
“You did!” He was in a frantic state, a man losing his mind, moving between her legs while she fought him off. It wasn't a fight of hate; it was two people drowning, clawing at each other for air. “Let me see.”
He moved his fingers against her, breathing her in, searching for the scent of another man but finding only her. Only the warmth, sweet scent that he had missed.
“Damn, girl! You got me losin’ my fuckin’ mind out here without chu. I can’t lose you…Tash. You my peace, girl.”
He reached up, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his lips finding her skin. “I need my peace, Tash!”
Tasha let out a broken sob, her arms wrapping around his head, pulling him in. She didn't have the strength to fight the truth or the lie anymore. She just needed the man.
And then she kissed him.
Deep. Devastating. Like she wanted to forget how bad it hurt to remember. His hands moved over her hips, gripping tighter than he should, like he needed to make sure she was still real. Still his.
Juelz lifted her with ease and carried her to the wide glass window that overlooked the city. Their mouths never disconnected. He kissed her like he had something to prove. Like he owed her every breath he took.
Her fingers clawed at his shirt, dragging it over his head.
She looked at him like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to love him or slap the shit out of him.
So she did both. She slapped his face, then kissed him hard, her tongue tangling with his.
“Don’t ever talk to me like that again,” she warned.
“I won’t. I swear to God, I won’t…”
He peeled her dress off slowly, pausing when he saw the scars along her stomach. His eyes locked with hers. She nodded.
“It’s …it’s fine. Don’t… don’t stop. I don’t wanna feel nothin’ but you right now.”
Juelz said okay and then kissed every scar, every inch like it was the first time, like he was learning her all over again. His mouth moved down her stomach, tracing lines with his tongue, slow and reverent. Her legs parted before her mind gave permission. Her body remembered him. Craved him.
Juelz slid her panties down, kissing the inside of her thigh like a man who knew he was on borrowed time.
She gasped when he touched her—gentle but firm.
His fingers explored her, finding her wet and dripping.
He slid a finger inside her, then two, stretching her, preparing her for what she had been missing.
He latched his mouth on her swollen bud, tasting her, licking and sucking and driving her wild.
She grabbed the back of his head, arching with a cry that almost sounded like a prayer. Her hips moved with need and so much desire.
When he finally slid inside her, it was like the start of World War III.
Skin-on-skin, sweat and tears mixing. They rocked together slow, then deep, then slow again, until all that tension and silence and heartbreak melted into the glass.
He filled her completely, and she wrapped her legs around him, holding him tight.
She cried against his neck as she reached her climax. He kissed her jaw, whispering between kisses, “I’m so so so…sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry…”
But she just held him tighter. Legs wrapped around him like she hated to let go of the moment.
“Just… stay. Don’t let go yet.”
And he didn’t.
They made love like they were trying to put the pieces back together with their hands.
The secrets were still there. The damage hadn’t vanished. But for today, in that moment, in that room… they weren’t broken. Just two people who didn’t know how to stop loving each other.
Then—
Buzzz… Buzzzz… Juelz’s eyes snapped open.
The warmth was gone. The room was dark, cold, and empty.
The smell of Tasha was replaced by the stale scent of the penthouse.
He was slumped on the black sectional, his neck stiff and his legs cramping.
The ice pack had fallen, leaving a cold, wet puddle on the leather.
His knuckles throbbed, a reminder that the restaurant fight was his only reality.
He sat up, rubbing his neck, and then he felt it. Wet. Warm.
“Man… fuck!”
Juelz looked down and saw it. His sweats were dark at the crotch and clinging to his skin. He came in his sleep off a memory, a lie that his brain fed him to feel her one more time. His dream of Tasha was too real.
“Tasha got me out here like a li’l nigga. Skeetin’ on myself and shit. Fuck!”
He stood up, peeling off his sweats, leaving him there in nothing but his boxers. His phone vibrated again. Persistent. He reached for it off the floor.
“WHAT?!”
“What the hell was that?” Tasha’s voice exploded through the speaker. “Why would you say some shit like that to me? Then to yell my business out in front of all them folks? That was fucked up.”
His grip tightened on the phone. “Aye! Why you out and shit with other niggas, Tasha?” His voice cracked with fury. “You got me fucked up, girl. You must be ready to shop for that black dress for that nigga?”
“Really…Jue, just let it go. I moved on, and I wanna see if this could lead to something you fucked up.”
Juelz was pacing the floor now, and the words hit his chest harder than he expected. Then his voice shot up, frustration bleeding out. “A’ight. That’s how you feel, T?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Explore the nigga then. And watch what happens.”
He ended the call before she could respond, the silence that followed sounding louder than her yelling.
“Fuck!” he shouted.
He turned toward the kitchen counter, movements automatic. He reached into the drawer, pulled out what he needed, and laid it out with shaky hands. His breathing was uneven now, frustration and heartbreak tangling together until he couldn’t tell which one hurt worse.
He leaned down, eyes burning as he stared at the fine white line.
He took one sharp inhale, closing his eyes.
The sting hit first, a localized fire in his sinuses.
Then the numbness started creeping in, slow and ugly, dulling the edges of everything he didn’t want to feel.
The anger. The jealousy. The way her voice still lived in his chest.
Juelz straightened up, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His pupils dilated as the chemical rush finally quieted the ghost of the dream.
He knew this didn’t fix a damn thing. But for a moment, the silence was manageable. And right now, that was the only thing he knew how to chase.