Chapter 11 #2
He was getting pissy, so I ignored his remark and stopped in a shop that was selling brass lanterns.
We repeated that cycle a few times, grabbing candles, a small brass lantern, and a handful of other things I thought we’d use for the proposal.
If Xain’s arms weren’t already at capacity, I could’ve grabbed more things.
Every few steps there was something else that caught my attention, and I knew I’d be back before our trip was over.
After the proposal, I was off-duty and free to be a tourist for the last two days of the trip.
We started the journey back to the car, and I held a basket full of small items while Xain struggled with the larger ones.
“Take the keys out of my pocket,” Xain suggested as we approached our parking spot.
I tucked the basket beneath my left arm and dug around in his pocket with my right hand.
My eyes drifted from his pocket to the unmistakable outline beneath the slutty gray joggers.
I froze for half a second, my gaze trailing the length of his thick, long dick.
The soft fabric told the tale of why Xain was so cocky.
Even on soft, he was all you would need and then some.
AHEM!
Xain cleared his throat and cracked that same grin he flashed me on the PJ. “You going to keep eye fucking my dick or get the keys out of my pocket?”
“I… I wasn’t…” I stuttered, frustrated that I even attempted to lie to him.
My hand fumbled past his wallet, still searching for the keys that were at the bottom of his deep pockets.
“Don’t try to cop a free feel either,” he bantered.
“You only wish,” I scoffed, pulling the keys out.
We packed the items into the backseat, and I chastised myself for being so obvious.
It had been a while though. After my breakup with Montell, I was on my fuck these niggas shit, and focusing on myself.
Andy was the first man I’d even considered giving my number, and that was only because he wasn’t local.
If he was almost four hours away in Miami, he couldn’t expect much from me and wouldn’t have the opportunity to smother me like Montell’s insecure ass did.
I straightened from piling things into the backseat, and suddenly the ground seemed to shift beneath my feet. My body swayed to the right as a wave of dizziness hit me hard. The rear passenger door caught me, and I held onto the roof of the car, blinking my eyes rapidly.
“Fuck, you good?” Xain inquired, rushing to my side of the truck.
“I’m fine,” I lied, feeling a hunger headache coming on.
“I heard your stomach rumbling earlier. Have you eaten anything? Or you trying to survive off that big ass cup of coffee you had when we left the hotel this morning? Or you take those Xanax for fun?” He interrogated, his eyes narrowing in on me.
For a moment I saw a glint of concern as he stared down at me.
“I can’t believe you really went through my purse. Your grandma never taught you to never go in a lady’s purse?” I groaned.
“She did, but I had to make an exception for you,” Xain clarified.
“I do not take the Xanax for funsies,” I refuted. “I just need to eat.”
“You want to eat Moroccan food or something that you know you will like ?”
“Where would we get something that I would like?”
“Just get in the car,” Xain demanded, grabbing hold of my wrist and waist, guiding me to the front seat of the truck.
He made sure I was safely inside, then rounded the truck.
On the short drive to the destination, Xain called ahead and placed the order.
I didn’t bother to ask how he knew I loved burgers; we’d spent too much time together.
Just like Xain knew I liked burgers, I knew he didn’t eat pork.
I told him my order. Cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake.
“I’m impressed. You have been a great chauffeur and guide out here. How do you know so much?”
“I’ve been here a few times,” he replied, continuing to maneuver through traffic.
I don’t know if it was the dick print, or the hunger, but I couldn’t quite focus on the road ahead. My eyes kept admiring Xain’s side profile as he drove. One muscular arm controlled the steering wheel. He glanced over at me, and I childishly had to cut Xain down before he got the big head.
“Why? Were you here to meet with the plug? Or for a hit job? Orrrrr, maybe you were here to kidnap someone?” I sassed.
“No, I came to unplug and vacation. Experience the culture. If you shut the fuck up, I can feed you and show you around.”
“Does telling women to shut the fuck up usually work for you?” I quipped.
“Does accusing niggas of being a criminal usually work for you? How the fuck do you still have the energy to be a dickhead after almost eating the pavement a few minutes ago?”
“I did not almost eat the pavement,” I laughed.
“Yeah, alright. Ya ass was swaying like a newborn giraffe,” Xain joked before imitating me, swaying with his free hand stretched in front of him and his eyes blinking rapidly.
“Your uncultured ass really played. Talking about was I here for a hit job,” he scoffed.
“You didn’t even know what a souk was. What the fuck do you think you know about me? ”
“I only have assumptions to go off of. You did kidnap me a few years ago,” I reminded him.
“You were running around playing detective. Minding business that didn’t pay you. Eventually, you have to let that go.”
“I must admit, we have come a long way. You force-fed me noodles that fateful day, and now you are taking me for a burger. You’re making progress,” I joked as he pulled into a parking spot.
Xain had to slam on the brakes because a scooter darted out in front of us.
“Have you ever driven around on scooters during your trips out here? It looks like fun.”
“Yeah, it was a vibe too,” Xain informed me. “I’mma grab the food, and I’ll be right back. I don’t need you swaying your ass inside of here.”
I watched Xain disappear behind other cars, and had to run my hands down my face.
We were joking and laughing, and the only thing I kept thinking about was his dick print and what I could do with it.
This is what abstinence got me, craving the touch of a man I swore was a mortal enemy.
Ironically, “Tired Of Being Alone” by Al Green played lowly in the silent car while my thoughts ran wild.
That was a sign. Loneliness had to have been influencing my filthy thoughts.
The car was connected to Xain’s phone, and I was surprised that his playlist wasn’t full of hardcore rap.
Then I thought about him being raised by his grandma; it made perfect sense.
Just as Xain crossed my mind, his handsome face appeared, darting between the cars.
He approached the car with our food and shakes, and I was so grateful.
A hunger headache was on my ass, and I needed to beat it to the punch.
I didn’t waste time digging into the food and guzzling the milkshake when Xain handed the items to me.
“Damn, slow down, Hoover,” Xain urged, maneuvering through traffic.
“Hoover?” I parroted, swallowing the burger I was chewing.
“Yeah, you sucking that shit down like a vacuum,” he joked.
“Oh, you’re a cornball on top of everything else,” I chuckled.
“I can’t tell. It made you laugh.”
“I can give you that.” I flitted my fingers in his direction.
Xain’s eyes lingered on me before he refocused his attention back on the road. The car fell silent for the rest of the ride. I was filling my belly, wondering why he was so quiet. Before I knew it, we were back at the hotel, going our separate ways.
At eleven o’clock, I was twirling in front of the mirror wearing a lavender, semi-sheer, square-neckline dress with a pair of gold Rene Caovilla heels and matching mini bag.
After eating in the car with Xain, we went back to the museum to drop off the items and retreated to our riads for the remainder of the day.
While enjoying a quiet dinner at the hotel restaurant, I wound up sitting next to a pair of best friends, whom I overheard planning to hit a club that played Afro hip-hop.
With nothing to lose, I butted in, asked to tag along, and ended up enjoying dinner with them.
They were knocking at my door, and I quickly glossed my lips in the mirror. I rushed downstairs, ready to see what the vibes would be like. Since I didn’t know them that well, I scheduled a private car service to and from the club, and they were ecstatic.
“You ready?” Malony, the tall one with her knotless braids pulled into two high ponytails, questioned.
“Ready,” I confirmed, turning to lock the door. “We are a good-looking trio tonight.”
“Period!” The shorter one affirmed.
We took a few pictures beneath the beautiful white archways in the hotel lobby before piling into the awaiting truck. Since I was exhausted when we got in the night before, I didn’t take the time to admire the hotel in all of its glory.
The massive three-story riad felt like a private Moroccan palace all on its own.
Our entrance opened onto a beautiful private courtyard that let you know you were not in the States.
The architecture, dark wood details, and plush rugs and pillows made the first floor feel special, with a sitting area, office, and living room with a fireplace.
On the second floor was the bedroom, the marble-covered bathroom, and a service door for the butler assigned to my riad.
My favorite part was the third floor, which contained a spa terrace with my own French pool and seating area overlooking the other riads.
If I didn’t need a night out after everything I’d been through over the last few weeks, I’d be in my riad, doing crossword puzzles next to the fireplace.