Chapter One #2
"I know what the fuck you need, Lavender.” He rose, licking his lips as his chin glistened. "Turn over."
She did as told, her body thrumming with a need that felt like it might kill her if it wasn't satisfied. Lennox positioned her how he wanted her—knees tucked under her, chest pressed to the mattress, ass in the air—and then he delivered the first spank.
The crack of his palm against her flesh echoed in the room, sharp and shocking. Lane yelped, more from surprise than pain, moaning as the heat spread and bloomed into something delicious that made her clit throb.
"Count," he commanded, his voice authoritative.
"One."
Another spank, this one harder on her other cheek.
"Two."
By five, she was trembling, dripping, and blissfully blank of everything except his presence behind her.
By eight, she was chanting his name like a mantra, and when he reached ten, he soothed the heated skin with his palm.
As he kneaded her flesh, she felt the head of his dick nudging against her entrance.
"Condom," she managed, the word barely audible.
"Already on," He leaned over her, covering her body with his.
Lane turned her head, catching his mouth in a messy kiss. "I want to feel you, all of you—but protected for now."
Lennox nodded his understanding as he was pushing inside her slowly and steadily until she was completely filled with a thickness that made her eyes water. He gave her time to adjust as his forehead lay pressed between her shoulder blades, breathing ragged.
"Fuck, Lane. You feel—" He spoke between clenched teeth. "You feel like home. I know that sounds crazy, but goddamn,” he grunted before lacing their fingers together.
"Stroke me," she whispered. "Please, Lennox. Stroke me, deep," she nearly begged.
He listened, starting with slow, controlled strokes—but every time he pulled out to the tip and sank back in with a roll of his hips—he found a spot made just for him.
"Harder," she demanded, pushing back against him. “Fuck me like you mean it," she demanded, wanting him as wild and undone as she was.
Lennox snapped, tightening his grip on her hips as his pace quickened until he was pounding into her.
The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room while mixing with their breathless moans and the creak of the bed frame.
He reached around to find her clit, rubbing tight circles in perfect sync with his thrusts.
Lane felt her orgasm building like a tsunami, inevitable and overwhelming.
"Cum for me," he gritted out, his own control fraying at the edges, "Let me feel you, Lane. I want every drop of what I worked for; it’s mine,” he demanded as he smacked her ass, leaving his handprint as a signature.
He sent her over the edge as she came apart with a scream she was sure the whole villa could hear.
Her pussy clamped down on him in rhythmic pulses that seemed to go on forever, pulling Lennox over the edge with her.
He buried himself as deep as he could go while groaning her name like a prayer.
His release was hot and flooding as he collapsed over her, leaving both of them shaking, sweating, and satisfied.
He didn't roll away or rush to get back to his suite—he didn’t reach for his phone to check his notifications.
Instead, he pulled out gently, tied off the condom, and disposed of it before climbing back into bed with a warm washcloth to wipe her down before gathering her against his chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm against her back.
"You good?" he asked.
The softness in his voice and lack of usual authority was replaced by something tender that scared her more than the sex had.
Lane nodded, not trusting her voice. Her body felt like melted wax and her mind hazy with endorphins because somewhere in the past hour, he'd managed to crack open a door she'd kept locked for years.
"I meant what I said," Lennox murmured, his lips brushing her shoulder. "I don't want to share you."
"You're gonna hurt me," Lane said before she could stop the words from slipping out, “Men like you always do."
She felt him stiffen behind her, the shift until he could see her face. His expression was serious in the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
"I might," he admitted with raw honesty in his voice, "But I don't want to. I can be different with you, Lane. I can be the man who brings you coffee in the morning, the man who protects you at all costs, and I won’t go ghost when shit gets real."
"Promises," she whispered, her eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall before continuing, "People make promises they can't keep."
"Then I'll keep showing up until you believe me," He said, kissing her forehead, the tears that finally escaped, and the tip of her nose. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to, and even then I’m not leaving.”
Lane closed her eyes and allowed his words to settle into her chest. She wanted to believe them even though her intuition screamed this was dangerous and that attachment to a man like him would lead to heartache.
Her mind said end this now before he could hurt her, but her heart wouldn’t let her.
For the rest of the night, she let him hold her and trace patterns on her skin as they found a comfortable silence that allowed Lane to wonder if just for a night this could be real.
That he could be different for her because maybe she was worth staying for.
Outside, the ocean crashed against the shore, indifferent to the promises being made in the dark. Lane Sanders, who never let anyone see her soft side, fell asleep in Lennox Jackson's arms while pretending she wasn't already half in love with him.
Three Months Later
The gender reveal was giving bougie block party meets music video set.
Custom balloons arched across the backyard.
The vinyl-shaped cake was so glossy it looked Photoshopped, and a DJ in a bucket hat spun 90s R&B classics, getting the aunties two-stepping with plastic cups in hand.
Matching lawn signs made it painfully obvious to the other houses in the cul-de-sac that this was a gender reveal and you should pick your team wisely.
Everyone was excited for KC and Cadence, but Lane Sanders wasn’t here for baby games.
Not when Lennox Jackson’s dog ass had the audacity to stroll in with a woman on his arm like this was the Grammy’s red carpet.
She clocked the woman instantly because she couldn't be bothered to follow the gender reveal theme.
She was tall and pretty but basic, a Zara mannequin come to life.
Her hair was tucked behind the ears, and she sported a neutral-toned bodycon with kitten heels that screamed “church brunch.” Again, cute but nothing revolutionary.
Nova leaned in close, letting her eyes cut sideways as the couple brushed past them, leaving a trail of fake laughter behind them.
“Not Lennox bringing a poorly dressed prop to the gender reveal,” she muttered while sipping her sweet tea like it was shade in liquid form.
Lane didn’t so much as twitch. Her rose-tinted sunglasses stayed firmly in place as she tipped back her cucumber lemonade.
“Let him flex,” she said coolly, voice flat as a good silk press, “Props belong on stages, and weak men need an audience.”
After their vacation tryst ended, Lennox did exactly what Lane knew he would do—break every promise he made.
He didn't ghost her physically but rather mentally and emotionally. He reached out, but it was for sexual purposes, and Lane didn’t need a man to get her rocks off.
She wanted a man that wanted her in all her glory and all her shortcomings, and that wasn’t him.
Lennox was afraid of the feelings that surfaced during their vacation tryst, and he ran.
And since Lane had never chased a nigga down and she never would.
Nova smirked at her. “You’re evil.”
Lane turned her head just enough to give Nova a sidelong glance as her lips curved in a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m minding my business. I hope they’re enjoying themselves,” her tone sharp.
Her gaze drifted back across the yard, tracking Lennox’s every step without a single blink because, if nothing else, men kept audacity.
“That man ate me into oblivion in St. Barts and made promises he knew he couldn’t keep, but what really pissed me off was instead of ghosting like a normal ain’t shit nigga—he tried to treat me like a late night creep as if he was the one with the upper hand.
I ignored every message, every call, and every smoke signal.
So, I’m sure him walking in here with deaconess Barbie is his attempt at getting under my skin. ”
Cadence, who sat perched in her shaded cabana chair with her bump cushioned by a mountain of throw pillows, burst out laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “The way y’all weaponize vocabulary is a gift.”
“I do what I can,” Lane giggled, still watching Lennox laugh obnoxiously fake at something his date said.
Her jaw didn’t tighten, nor did her pulse quicken in a way that would visibly show how bad she wanted to drag his date by her hair and throw her out of her best friend’s home.
But Lane would never give him the satisfaction of knowing she was jealous.
What she did let him see was poise, the glitter of her lip gloss, and a calmness so cold it bordered on art.
Every time Lennox happened to glance her way, and he did—several times. He saw a woman who wasn’t pressed or competing for his attention, because props could be returned when the stage got cleared. But Lane? Lane was unforgettable.