26. SKYE
SKYE
By nine o’clock that night the house had gone quiet. Rita was down. Dream had passed out mid-sentence about that horse. Storie had shut herself in her room the second she got back from Kira’s, same as always.
I should have gone to bed. Instead I poured myself a glass of wine and went wandering, and that’s how I ended up on the lower level, standing in the doorway of the theater Justice had built, watching the back of his head in the dark.
He had a drink in his hand and some movie going that he clearly wasn’t watching.
“You gon’ come in, or you gon’ stand in the door being nervous?” he asked, without turning around.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Mm.”
I sat down. Not right beside him. One seat over, which felt like a decision I’d made for both of us. He tipped his glass at mine without a word, and we watched about twenty minutes of a movie neither of us could have summarized at gunpoint.
Then I opened my mouth and let out the thing that had been sitting in me all afternoon.
“Can I ask you something? And you can tell me to mind my business.”
“Ain’t that my line?”
“I’m stealing it.” I turned my glass by the stem. “What happened out there today. With Kira.” I felt him go still beside me. “The way she looked at me… I’ve been trying all day to figure out what I did to that woman.”
He was quiet long enough that I almost took it back.
“You ain’t do nothing to her,” he said finally.
“Then what is it?”
He set his glass down, then rubbed his hand down over his mouth. I could feel him thinking about how honest he wanted to be with me.
“Kira was my wife’s best friend,” he said. “Twenty-something years. Godmother to both my girls. She was at the hospital every day at the end. She’s the one who held Dream at the funeral so I could carry the casket.”
“Okay.”
“And I slept with her.”
I kept my face exactly where it was.
“Not back then,” he said. “Nothing like that, not when Monica was alive, I need you to know that first. This was recent. Last few months. Few times.” He shook his head slow. “We usually met at hotels. That’s the ugly truth of it all. I feel a lil guilty about it because it’s a messy situation.”
“Was it serious?”
“Not for me.” He looked over at me then.
“And that’s the part I feel bad about. Because I knew it was for her.
Knew it and let it keep happening anyway.
Then I ended it, and she ain’t take it well.
” He picked his glass back up. “She been finding reasons to be around ever since. Today when we talked, I told her that we needed a break from her. She can’t see the kids right now. ”
The screen threw blue light across his face. He was looking straight ahead again.
“You judging me?” he asked.
“This is a judgment-free zone.”
He let out a laugh, exposing his Colgate smile. Some of the tightness went out of his shoulders.
“Alright then.” He shifted in that big seat to face me. “Since it’s judgment-free. Where your man at, Skye?”
Two glasses of wine had my mouth looser than it had been in five years. That’s the only excuse I’ve got. Because the truth was sitting right there behind my teeth, the terrible weight of it, and for one insane second I felt it try to come up.
My man is a monster in an eight-thousand-dollar suit. My man ended my illustrious career. My man is the reason I answer to a name that isn’t mine.
My man was standing in your casino Friday night.
I swallowed all of it back down and gave him the shape of the truth with the face filed off.
“He left me,” I said. “For my sister.”
Justice’s head came around so fast I almost laughed.
“He did what?”
“Mm hm.”
”Your sister?”
“My sister.”
“Nah, where he at? For real. Say the word, I’ll go whoop his ass tonight. We can go over there right now,” he said as he sat up as if he were ready to go to war.
“Justice.”
“I ain’t playing with you.”
“I know you’re not.” That was exactly what scared me. “Please don’t. It’s water under the bridge.”
“Fuckin’ around with me he’ll end up under a bridge with cement on his ankles. Skye, that’s foul,” he muttered. “That’s just fucked up.”
“It was.”
“Your own sister.” He shook his head, then sat back, and after a minute the corner of his mouth pulled up. “I mean. I guess if he ain’t leave you for your sister, you wouldn’t be here right now. Sitting in my house. Drinking my wine.”
My chest turned over.
“So really,” he said, “I owe that man a thank-you card.”
I laughed. It came out of me before I could stop it.
He wasn’t laughing.
He was looking at my mouth.
Whatever was in my face must have said yes, because he reached over and slid his hand along my jaw into my hair, and he leaned in slow enough for me to stop it a hundred times.
I didn’t stop it.
He kissed me. And every wall I’d spent five years building came down in about four seconds.
He kissed me like a man who’d been thinking about it for weeks, patient at first, then not patient at all.
I heard a sound come out of me I didn’t recognize.
His hand slid down my throat, over my collarbone, splayed wide across my ribs, and he pulled me up out of that seat and into his lap like I weighed nothing.
“Tell me to stop,” he said against my mouth.
“Don’t stop.”
“Say it plain.”
“Don’t you dare stop.”
His hands were everywhere—rough, insistent, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as I had.
The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine, and I melted into him, my fingers tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
I could feel the hardness of his dick against my thigh, and the heat between my legs pulsed in response.
His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me tighter against him, and I could feel every inch of his dick pressing through the thin fabric of my pajama shorts.
My pussy throbbed, wet and aching, and I rocked against him without thinking.
A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his hands slid down to grip my ass, grinding me harder against him.
“Fuck, Skye,” he muttered against my lips. “You feel that? You feel how hard I am for you?”
I whimpered, nodding, my breath coming in short gasps.
His mouth moved to my neck, sucking and biting, and I arched into him, my fingers tightening in his low-cut Caesar.
The theater was dark, the movie still playing in the background, but neither of us cared.
All I could focus on was the way his hands roamed my body, rough and possessive, like he was claiming every inch of me.
He pulled back just enough to yank my tank top over my head, tossing it aside.
His eyes darkened as he took in my bare breasts, his thumb brushing over my nipple, making me gasp.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in to take my nipple into his mouth.
I moaned, my back arching, my hands caressing his head as he sucked and teased, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
His hands slid down to the waistband of my shorts, fingers hooking into the fabric. “You want this, Skye?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You want me to take these off?”
I nodded, biting my lip. “Yes.”
He didn’t waste another second. He stood, lifting me with him, and set me down on the edge of the seat.
His hands were on my shorts in an instant, pulling them down my legs along with my panties, leaving me completely bare in front of him.
He stepped back, his eyes raking over me, and I could see the hunger in his gaze.
“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded.
I did as he said, my heart pounding in my chest. He dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading them wider. “Justice,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against my pussy. “Let me taste you.”
Before I could respond, his mouth was on me, his tongue sliding through my lips and over my clit, licking and sucking.
I cried out, my hands flying to his head, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he devoured me.
His tongue was relentless, flicking over my clit, driving me wild.
I could feel the tension coiling inside me, my body trembling with need.
“Oh God, Justice,” I gasped, my hips bucking against his mouth. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
He growled against me, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through my body.
His fingers joined his tongue, sliding inside me, curling and stretching me as he licked and sucked.
I was so close, my body trembling on the edge, and then he sucked my clit into his mouth, his fingers working me faster, and I exploded, my orgasm crashing over me in waves of pleasure.
He didn’t stop, his mouth and fingers working me through it, drawing out every last shudder until I was limp and breathless.
He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with desire.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss me, letting me taste myself on his lips.
I reached for his belt, my hands shaking with need. “I want you inside me,” I whispered against his mouth. “Please, Justice.”
He didn’t hesitate. He undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and pushed them down, his dick springing free, thick and hard and glistening at the tip.
I reached out, wrapping my hand around him, stroking him slowly.
He groaned, his head falling back, his hands gripping my hips.
“Fuck, Skye,” he muttered. “You’re gonna make me come just from that. ”
I smiled, leaning in to kiss him, my hand still working him. “Not yet,” I whispered. “I want you inside me first.”
He growled, lifting me up and turning me around, bending me over the back of the seat. His hand slid between my legs, his fingers sliding through my wetness. “You ready for me, baby?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Yes,” I gasped, pushing back against him. “Please, Justice.”
He didn’t make me wait. He lined himself up, the head of his dick pressing against my entrance, and then he was pushing inside me, filling me inch by inch.
I cried out, my hands gripping the seat, my body stretching to accommodate him.
He was big, bigger than I’d ever had before, and the stretch was almost too much, but it felt so fucking good.
“Fuck, Skye,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips. “You’re so tight. So fucking wet.”
He pulled out slowly, then thrust back in, deeper this time, and I moaned, my body arching into him.
He set a rhythm, his hips snapping against mine, his dick filling me over and over again.
The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the theater, mixing with the sounds of the movie still playing in the background.
“Justice,” I gasped, my fingers digging into the seat. “Harder. Please, harder.”
He growled, his hands tightening on my hips as he slammed into me, his dick hitting that spot deep inside me that made my vision blur. I could feel another orgasm building, my body trembling with need. “I’m gonna come,” I gasped. “Oh God, I’m gonna come.”
“Come for me, baby,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Come all over my dick.”
His words sent me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me, my body shaking as pleasure ripped through me. He groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then he was coming too, his dick pulsing inside me as he filled me with his cum.
We stayed like that for a moment as his fingers grazed me, finally landing on my chest.
“Skye.” His voice had gone careful. “What is this?” When he found the scar that was etched in me.
It’s funny, that scar wasn’t from my ex-husband but it was a result of his actions. He didn’t put that one on me but he was the reason it happened.
Everything in me went cold at once.
“It’s old.”
“That ain’t what I asked you.” He lifted his head, trying to see my face in the dark. “Somebody did that to you. Somebody cut you. Who?”
And I was already moving.
I got off that man. Found my shirt on the floor. My hands were shaking so bad I put it on inside out and didn’t care.
“It was a long time ago. It’s nothing.”
“Baby.” He sat up. “Wait. Talk to me.”
Baby. That word almost took my knees out from under me.
“I have to go up.” I couldn’t look at him. “Rita gets up early. I have to be up.”
“Skye.”
“Goodnight, Justice.”
I left him sitting there half dressed in the blue light of a movie neither of us had watched a single frame of, and I went up those stairs so fast I nearly fell.
I made it to the second floor before I heard it.
A door. Closing. Somewhere down the long hallway, soft, careful, the click of a latch being eased shut by somebody who did not want it to make a sound.
I stopped dead with my hand on the wall.
The hall was dark. Dream’s door was shut like I’d left it. Rita’s was shut. Nothing moved anywhere. I stood there in a shirt I’d put on inside out, that man’s hands still all over me, listening to a house that had gone completely silent.
Then I looked down toward the end of the hall.
Under Storie’s door, a thin gold line of light.
It went out while I was looking at it.