Chapter 16 Amelia
amelia
“So… how do you think I did tonight?” I asked, halfway through the drive back to the Heights.
Calvin glanced at me, grinning before he put his eyes back on the road. “You want like… a grade?”
“Duh,” I answered. “Do I not seem like someone who thrives on validation?”
He laughed. “Good point. Uh… Let me see… you definitely lost points for me having to call somebody a bitch on your behalf.”
I scoffed. “Hey – the designation of bitches has been equally distributed tonight – that word got a used a lot. In your defense – they were talking shit about you!”
“You know… that’s fair. You should actually get points for that. But… to be clear, those niggas were plus-ones for somebody who is practice team at best. Nobody was sweating them, and you shouldn’t either.”
“It was just a little too fake for me – they literally interrupted us to dick ride, just to turn around and hate,” I whined, crossing my arms. “I don’t like that.”
“Who does?” he laughed. “It’s just… life, you know? Don’t let it bother you. I appreciate you holding me down though.”
“Aw. That’s what I was there for, babe,” I replied, tagging on a little kissy-face expression for extra seasoning.
“Babe?”
“I called you that as my character – don’t get excited.”
“Too late,” he quipped. “You’ve given me an opening.”
“It’s a trap, actually -- I’m waiting with a bat for you to walk through.”
“Damn,” Calvin laughed. “You’re talking like it would be so bad to fuck with me – you think I’d be a bad boyfriend or something?”
“I think it could go either way, actually,” I admitted. “Extremes, though.”
“Huh?”
“You’re either an excellent boyfriend, or someone’s did I tell you how I almost ended up in jail for killing this nigga story. No in-between.”
“That’s intense,” he chuckled. “How can you make that judgement before you even know what’s in the benefit package?”
“Benefit package? Is that like my – wait, I didn’t get my gift bag!” I fussed, realizing my –supposed—primary reason for attending this little shindig was indeed not in my possession.
“Oh, shit – I’ll make sure you get it,” Calvin said. “Because I’m what? An excellent boyfriend,” he answered his own question. “The fuck you think this is?”
“Some bullshit,” I replied. “An excellent boyfriend wouldn’t have let me leave without it.”
“Correction – an excellent boyfriend is human, and therefore makes the occasional mistake. The true showing of merit comes from how he pivots – but your last nigga was wack, so you probably don’t know anything about that.”
“Uh, ouch,” I scoffed, frowning at him. “That’s actually a little offensive.”
“My bad, baby,” he said, reaching to grab my thigh. “How can I make it up to you?”
Immediately, my chest felt hot. “Baby?”
He grinned. “I can’t be in character too? You don’t like my method acting?”
His hand was still on my thigh.
Gripping.
My gaze skirted up to his. “I’m not sure that’s what’s happening, but… sure?”
“You’re a hater, damn.”
The rest of the ride was spent bantering back and forth, and I still had a grin on my face as he helped me out of the car in the building parking lot. All the way to our hall, in fact.
“Wow – you’re not going to walk me to my door?” I asked, surprised when he stopped at his.
“I’ve got something for you real quick.”
“You’re not still in character are you?”
“Should I be?” he asked, wagging his eyebrows as he unlocked his door and stepped inside, clearly intending for me to follow.
So… I did.
As many times as he’d been in my apartment, I’d never been in his.
It was less… bachelor-y than I expected.
There wasn’t anything gray in sight – it was dominated by warm wood tones and a surprising amount of plants. There were touches of orange and black – tasteful nods to his team colors that wouldn’t necessarily register as out of place with the rest of the palette.
And it was clean.
Nice.
“Here,” Calvin said, and I turned to find him extending a gift bag in my direction.
“This is from the party?” I asked, confused as I accepted it.
It was heavy.
“Nah,” he said. “This is a little thank you for doing me this solid tonight.”
Eyebrow raised, I took it to the counter and peeked into the bag, gasping a little as I pulled the tissue aside. “Now how in the world did you know I would love this?” I asked, pulling out a bottle of an ultra-bougie, artisanal version of my favorite cocktail mixer.
“That night on the balcony,” he answered. “Remember, you picked the pineapple lemonade flavor, cause you thought it might be similar to a lemon drop. So when I saw a bottle at Nectar, I thought about you… figured you might like it.”
I grinned. “You figured very right,” I told him. “In fact… the lemon drop I was having when I heard those niggas hating… I did not get to enjoy it properly. Tell me you have vodka.”
“I do.”
“Then… let’s drink,” I suggested, already cracking the seal on the bottle.
“Bet,” Calvin agreed, already moving for his liquor cabinet. Ten minutes later, we were perched on the couch with our drinks – I’d run next door to switch out of my dress into lounge clothes, and when I came back, he’d already done the same.
“This is nuts,” I groaned after I’d taken a first sip. It was the perfect blend our sour and sweet, the vodka was smooth, the citrus was vibrant… “you did your biggest with this one. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he countered. “Like I said – I appreciate you being Team Calvin, even if it’s just for one night.”
I started to respond to that, but my phone chimed – a quick glance told me it was Kae.
Sending a picture.
Frowning, I navigated to the message to find that it was a screenshot… from some gossip account on social media, with a picture of me and Calvin.
“So it begins,” I said, holding up the phone to show him the image. “Good thing we kinda expected this, right?”
He nodded, taking a sip from his drink. “Yeah, we knew it was coming… it’s not going to make any trouble for you, right?”
“Trouble with who? I’m grown,” I laughed. “And very single.”
“So we broke up?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“You said very single,” he explained, leaning forward. “like you really needed it emphasized that you’re a free woman, and I’m just trying to understand when that happened. I thought we were in character?”
“Even now?”
“Why not?” he shrugged. “I mean… drinking together in our socks is definitely a kind of intimacy, if you ask me.”
“Friendly intimacy, I thought.”
He nodded a little, then sat back. “Message received.”
“Who said I was sending a message?” I asked. “I’m just giving you my honest thoughts.”
“And what are you thinking right now, honestly?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Honestly.”
I bit down on my lip, surveying him for a moment as I considered my answer. And then…
“Honestly… this vodka is making me feel like I want to climb in your lap.”
His eyebrows went up. “What’s stopping you?”
“Relationship status.” I put my empty glass down on the table, focusing on Calvin’s face. “I enjoy being able to enjoy your company without it being some weird thing.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything we don’t make it.”
“Yeah, people say that shit all the time and then end up in a situationship that wrecks their mental health and turns them into a relationship super-villain for the next poor sucker who has the misfortune of crossing paths with them.”
“Damn.”
I laughed. “I mean… I’ve seen it a million times. And I don’t want that for myself – or you.”
“I don’t want that for either of us either… and… you have sufficiently spooked me out of getting involved with anything that resembles what you’re talking about.”
“Which is a shame,” I sighed. “Cause I really, really want to sit on your dick.”
I kinda hated how easy it was for me to admit out loud, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be on that type of timing.
But… there it was.
He choked a little on the last of his drink. “That… escalated.”
“Vodka kicked in a little more,” I admitted, already moving… to get into his lap.
He offered no objection to my completely contradictory actions, just teased me with a “blame it on the alcohol” reference, then grabbed immediate handfuls of ass once he’d practically tossed his finished drink on the table.
“Now what?” he asked.
Was it the alcohol?
Or was this really always as inevitable as the electricity I felt between us right now suggested, and I was simply... giving in to it.
Again.
Finally.
I shifted a little – the fabric layers between us were very thin, and did little to cushion anything. I felt exactly how hard he was, felt the tension in his arms, easily clocked the restraint in his eyes.
“Promise me you won’t be weird after this.”
He scoffed. “If memory serves, you were the one being weird last time.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right,” he chuckled, and then one of his hands left my ass to cuff the back of my head, pulling my mouth down to his for a greedy kiss I eagerly obliged.
It felt so… easy.
Or maybe… natural was the better word.
Those hands were everywhere – gripping, guiding as he stood me up, sliding my shorts and panties down my hips.
Tossing my clothes to the floor, teasing me with his fingers on my clit.
Pulling me back to my knees on the couch with him, putting one of my legs over his shoulder.
Spreading me open, sinking those fingers into me.
And his mouth… very, very busy as well.
Slow, long, careful licks along my inner thighs, little nips with his teeth that he soothed with soft kisses while his fingers worked, while he made me make a mess.
One of my hands gripped the couch, the other gripped his hair for balance as he kissed, nipped, licked his way to my clit, covering it with his mouth, lapping with his tongue as his fingers still worked.
I came so hard I saw stars, practically collapsing over the back of the couch if he hadn’t caught me, laughing.
He stopped laughing when I deftly snatched his dick out of his boxers, sinking down onto it.
“What’s funny?” I whispered against his lips as I flexed around him, reflexively pulling him deeper into me.
“Not a damn thing?” was his shaky reply.
I grinned… then sank my knees deeper into his couch for stability.
Then I did what I had really, really been wanting to do for weeks now.
I rode the fuck outta him.
I had just enough miles on my knees to get us both to a climax, and then I just didn’t move – I wasn’t worried about him pulling out because my birth control was iron clad.
Calvin’s hands were still on my hips – soft at first, but then suddenly firm as he lifted me off him, depositing me on the couch.
Very, very briefly, I felt a little…. I don’t know.
Bereft?
Offended?
Whatever it was, it only lasted long enough for him to stand up, gather his footing, and scoop me into his arms.
“Ah!” I shrieked, taken off guard by the sudden movement. “What’s happening?” I asked.
“We’re washing up,” he explained. “And then I’m getting my lick back.”
I grinned. “Lick back?”
“Yeah. You didn’t think I was letting you leave after fucking me like that, right?”