Chapter 16 Emani
“I told y’all I was the baddest, ass move like the phattest. Niggas trying to tag it and bag it. Way the waist winds, I’m a savage. Grab a hold when I look back at it. Grab it. Act like you know what to do with it,” Emani’s voice pumped through the speakers of the party.
There was a sea of college students and alumni doing exactly what Emani’s lyrics provoked.
She rapped her lyrics, danced alongside Donnée while indulging in shot after shot.
There wasn’t any worry about cameras and what could possibly go wrong because for once, she was having fun that wasn’t dependent on the optics.
Ashton drunkenly slid behind Emani as she twerked to the beat, holding on to her waist.
Playfully, she threw over her shoulder, “Boy, I’ll break your little ass.”
Donnée giggled. “Don’t hurt him, E!”
“Carson, be useful and hold me up!” Ashton shouted over the music, immediately realizing Emani was right. “Matter of fact, Jahlil, bring your big ass over here.”
“I’m not helping you with shit but a toss over the fuckin’ rail,” Jahlil muttered, just as enticed with Emani as everyone else.
Difference was, he knew how to handle her.
Then at least. Emani was a grown woman now with curves and territory he hadn’t explored yet.
But he wanted to. Needed to but pacing was important.
If it were up to him he’d snap his fingers and the years of them apart and strained would be erased.
“Your man is a hater, E,” Ashton grumbled, being graced by the bounce of Emani’s twerk.
“Aight now,” Jahlil muttered. Those two words rested against her ears and spirit like it was a reclamation of the space that was always meant for him. There would be no other man in the world to make Emani take heed.
“Alright, that’s all you get,” Emani said, laughing and moving away from Ashton, who was grinning at Jahlil like he’d won a prize. “I told you, you couldn’t handle it.”
“Might want to tell his little ass who can,” Jahlil muttered again, making her look up at him and chuckle.
“You can’t either.”
“How much you tryin’ to put on that, E?” Jahlil asked, craning his neck and locking eyes with her.
She creased her brows, trying to keep the intrigue off of her made-up face. “You can’t afford the thought of having me again. You’re blocking my view.”
Jahlil bit a smirk and nodded. “Open up.”
“I don’t know where your mouth has been,” she countered.
“Want me to show these little niggas in here where it’s about to go?” he challenged. The glint in his eyes proving he was crazy enough to do it. “I don’t give a fuck about them cameras or that nigga.”
Emani rolled her eyes and slightly opened her mouth, accepting the pour of liquor.
Gone were the plastic shot cups and the cheap liquor provided by the college students.
Emani welcomed the warm, full-bodied notes of the aged cognac.
Smoked caramel, cinnamon, oak and dried fruit danced over her tongue.
Once she swallowed Jahlil’s branded liquor, she plucked the bottle from his hand.
“I’ll be taking this. Thank you.”
As she pranced away from him, Donnée was shoulder-to-shoulder with her. “So when are we going to go pack your things and take them to his house?”
“Never,” Emani replied. “I’m just having fun. Before I have to return to life.”
Back at the house, the music was blasting, more liquor was flowing and the backyard of the rented house was toppling over with women Ashton and Carson had invited back.
Donnée and Kyrie were hugged up on the opposite side of the pool and Emani took it all in.
Donnée no longer hiding her marriage placed a tiny smile over her drunk face.
Ashton trying to out play Jahlil in water basketball and then there were the women invited back who were vying for Jahlil’s attention.
The moment her silly laugh turned into a slightly jealous sneer, her thumb subconsciously found the diamond engagement ring and spun it around her finger.
Bitterness wrapped itself in the groan Emani pushed out and she turned her attention back to her phone.
A growling stomach and a craving for tacos took her to the JoyCart app.
While she added the necessary ingredients to the cart, she could feel Jahlil’s presence.
“Whatever it is, no,” she buzzed, submitting her order and moving to her emails. Anything other than looking at him half-naked with water droplets dripping and gliding over washboard abs.
“Everyone is having fun,” he started, plucking her phone out of her hand like she’d done the bottle earlier. “And you’re on your phone.”
“I’m handling business,” she lied, watching her phone land on a nearby pillow. As she reached to grab it, she was hoisted over his shoulder. “Jahlil! No! My hair-”
Submerged in six feet of water, her body clung around his as she came back to the surface. Emani smacked his arms and chest. “Take me back! Now!”
Jahlil laughed, welcoming her legs clamped around his waist.
“Why are you laughing?” she groaned. “You know I hate the deep end, Jah.”
“Settle down,” he groaned in her ear. “You’re good. You know I’m not going to let you go.”
“My wig is sliding off,” she huffed.
Jahlil moved one hand from her waist and gently lifted the wig off and tossed it on the edge. “Now it’s gone. You didn’t need that shit anyway. Beautiful without it.”
“Don’t start. Your little friends might get jealous,” Emani grumbled. “Please take me back.”
Jahlil moved them further away from the crowd of people. “Nah.”
She rolled her eyes. “How long am I subjected to this?”
“Until you have some fun. You were over there stewing.”
“No one is thinking about you, Jahlil,” she sassed with an eye roll.
“Cut that shit out. I’m too drunk for full control and I’d hate to test how much of a lie that little statement was.”
Emani jumped off of him forgetting that she couldn’t touch the bottom. As quickly as she jumped off of him. She jumped back on him. “Stop playing.”
Jahlil laughed. “If you just swim, you can go back to what you were doing.”
“It’s the mere fact that you brought me over here knowing I won’t swim back,” Emani grumbled, rolling her eyes.
“Testing the waters,” Jahlil replied, taking Emani in under the glow casting from the lights from the college, the hanging string lights, and the moon. “If you swam back, I would know you weren’t fucking with me for real. But you still here. Still wrapped around me.”
“That’s the fuckin’ problem right there,” Emani huffed. “You think I’m wrapped around you.”
“You never been wrapped around me. Wrapped up in me, yeah. And I let it go on. I replay that shit you know. Over and over when I can’t sleep, those final moments at that little apartment you made feel like a castle. The look in your eyes when you told me you got signed.”
“We don’t have to. Go backwards,” Emani softly replied. “I just-”
“You felt guilty. I saw it. So I didn’t chase you. You can’t be contained, Emani. Don’t let no nigga box you in. No label, no brand. None of it.”
Emani’s drunk eyes drifted from Jahlil’s eyes to the ring she wore. For a moment, suspended around him, she forgot Malik even existed and that she ordered food. “Yeah, I’m going to go. Can you…”
Before she could finish the ask, he walked her over to the edge. As Emani got out, she grabbed her hair and started inside the house to find a towel. Jahlil, close behind her, grabbed her by the hand and led her in the direction of his room.
“I’ll walk you back. Put these on though,” he stated, handing her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “I’ll be by the door.”
Thankful he left her space, anywhere closer than she was would have had her crawling his body for a taste. Wet clothes in tow, Emani met him by the door, a small smile on her face.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Come on.”
Emani walked in stride with him, taking in the peaceful silence void of the need to be filled with meaningless conversation. When they reached the steps, he held his hand out for the key. Reaching down her bra, she handed it over and gave him a innocent smile.
“I had to keep it safe.”
Jahlil bent over and picked up the bags of groceries and opened the door. “Damn, you were making drunk tacos and not sharing.”
“If you help, I’ll share. If you’re going to sit by and watch, you can trot right back down the street to your groupies.”
“I knew it,” Jahlil spoke with a smirk, watching her walk past in his clothes.
“What?”
“You were jealous.”
Emani rolled her eyes. “Says the man who was about to jack up his friend over a little twerk.”
Jahlil bit a grin following her into the kitchen of the JoyBed.
“A little twerk? I was watching you. I’ve seen your music videos.
There is no little twerk. I’ve experienced it.
You know Ashton is a troll too. You know you give his little ass a little bit of attention and he thinks it’s license to loose his damn mind. ”
“Now look at whose the jealous one.”
“Been,” Jahlil stated. “And you know that.”
“Whatever, Jah. You just talkin’ shit now.”
He moved to the bottle on the counter and opened it. “I’m not talking shit. How many niggas did I lay down for fuckin’ with you?”
Emani rolled her eyes again, pretending like the thought of Jahlil snatching someone up behind her didn’t have her wrapped around him. It did. Protection. Though he might’ve been slightly off, she had protection. It’d been a long time without it.
“One of ‘em is in my way but I’ll handle that,” he said, pouring a shot before moving to the bags of food.
“I heard that.”
“I wasn’t trying to whisper. You do know I can move him out the way at any time.”
“I’m not going to be a prize you two win in a dick swinging contest,” Emani replied, grabbing a pan.
“First of all, you already know who winning this shit,” Jahlil stated.
Emani stopped, placed her hand on her hip, and asked, “How do you know it’s not him.”
“Because if what you needed to be done was actually being handled, there wouldn’t be any room for me to step in. I wouldn’t even be in your mix for real. But here I am.”
“You’re mighty sure of yourself. Make yourself useful and open up the tortillas please.”
They moved around each other, three shots in because drunk tacos only worked while you were still drunk, pretending to ignore the barely there touches.
“Okay that’s enough,” Emani huffed, washing her hands and hopping on top of the counter. The taco shells were in the oven warming up. “I will not be hungover fuckin’ around with you.”
“You right. That pick up game is in the morning too,” Jahlil swapped the shots for water. “Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Avoiding looking at me?”
Drunk tongues never lied and Emani found it hard to tell him anything other than the truth. “Because I’m trying to forget and remember at the same time what you feel like. Honestly, you this close to me is a bad idea.”
“It’s only a bad idea if I’m bad for you,” Jahlil commented, moving into her space, boxing her in. “Despite the bullshit, I’ve never been bad for you, E.”
“Jah…”
“If that’s what you want, you can have it.”
For a moment, she was lost in all that he was.
His large, tattooed hand on her throat, squeezing just enough.
Her head tilted back in anticipation of his lips on hers.
On contact, she moaned. Her hand wrapping around his wrist, encouraging him to deepen it.
Cognac-tainted tongues swiping over one another in a frenzy.
Heat rising as his hands traveled down her body.
Groping breasts, gliding into the shorts she wore, his long fingers finding her bare.
His mouth still on hers. One finger pushed inside and a beautiful gasp pulled into her mouth, her wetness tightening around his finger.
Jahlil pushed another inside, her hips winding against them and then the timer sounded off. It zapped her drunken mind out of the haze. Emani broke their kiss and put her hands on his chest.
“Fuck. I can’t do it,” she groaned, tangled in the web of wanting him inside and wanting to be right.
Jahlil sucked her juices from his fingers and groaned. “He’s gotta get out my way.”
“Until then,” Emani huffed, wiggling off the counter and grabbing the oven mitt. “You got to take your tacos and go before I do some shit that’s going to make me fall back when it’s over.”
With haste, she fixed his tacos, shoved them into his chest and pushed him toward the door. With a grin on his face, Jahlil strolled to the door, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. “See you in the morning E.”
With every step he took away from her, it felt like her pussy was trying to crawl off her body and follow him.
“Oh, you shut up. About to get me in some shit I can’t get out of,” she muttered to herself.
Once he was gone, she locked up, grabbed her taco and sat on the couch.
Drunk and alone, she sighed. Maybe calling Malik would zap the feelings she held toward him.
Maybe she’d run back into the box she hadn’t for the sake of familiarity.
The drumming between her thighs silenced those thoughts.
“I guess you’ve spoken. At least can we keep the purring at a minimum until I call this engagement off?”