Chapter 9
“I LIKE WHAT I SEE, TOO, PRETTY GIRL.”
O rielle could’ve sworn she placed her phone on do not disturb before going to bed last night. It didn’t feel like she’d been sleeping that long, and even if she had been, the persistent vibrating was ruining every bit of shut-eye she was trying to get.
“Oh, my gosh,” she groaned, sliding her hand across her soft, white sheets.
Squinting thanks to the beaming rays pouring through her window and from the phone screen’s brightness, she hurriedly answered the call from her loft’s main door. “Yes?”
“Wakey, wakey. We’re outside with breakfast.” Zoey’s chipper tone floated through the receiver.
It was the total opposite of how Orielle felt and sounded.
“Girl, what the hell is wrong with your voice?” Cheyla blurted.
She should’ve known Zoey hadn’t popped up alone.
“This is how normal people sound when they’re woken up out of their sleep,” she said, yawning.
“Hmm. Well, we’ve come to intrude. Open up and be sure to brush your teeth before greeting us,” Cheyla insisted.
Going to her keypad, Orielle pressed nine, and she heard the door unlock before the call disconnected. Her best friends were the only ones allowed to pop up when they felt necessary. Obviously, it wasn’t an emergency. At least, Orielle didn’t believe it was.
Stretching her limbs, bones popped as she exhaled and reopened her eyes.
There was a slight tingle in her legs as she stood from the bed in all of her naked glory and walked into her bathroom.
She didn’t worry about them getting inside her place; they had a key.
Slowly sitting down, Orielle used the toilet, then washed her hands and brushed her teeth.
Next was a quick face wash. She wasn’t in the mood to do a whole facial routine, so scalding hot water and a white towel it was. Just as she applied a moisturizer, Cheyla’s voice broke through the silence.
“Sis! Do you have some syrup?”
“Look in the cabinet right by the fridge. You should see it.”
Cheyla mumbled okay and walked off. Opening the second drawer on her dresser, Orielle pulled out a pair of leggings before grabbing an oversized T-shirt from another drawer. She slid both onto her body, before inserting her feet into her house shoes, and grabbed her phone from the bed.
The spread of food they laid out on her high-top dining table made Orielle’s stomach growl. She still had a slight buzz from the night before, and it wasn’t because of the edible she’d eaten.
Orielle cleared her throat. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, sleepy head. You look well-rested and refreshed,” Zoey teased, knowing she looked anything but.
“More like well fucked to me.” Cheyla gave her the side eye and lifted a brow.
“And is.” Orielle chuckled, rubbing her eye.
Zoey stopped chewing. “What? You’re lying.”
“No, she’s not,” Cheyla said, giggling. “I told you she was over there getting put through the damn mattress.”
“It was actually a couch, but okay.” Orielle smirked while scooping eggs onto her plate. She winced while sitting in one of the chairs, and Cheyla amusedly shook her head.
Zoey hollered. “Oh, my gosh. That’s why your location was at the studio for so long.”
They were waiting for Orielle to confirm her suspicions, but she didn’t say anything. She took a bite of her turkey bacon and eyed them.
“Girl, say something, damn,” Cheyla fussed. “You being all hush-hush like you don’t want to tell us.”
“Right. If you don’t like us anymore, just say that,” Zoey added.
Snickering, Orielle drank some of the warm green tea they brought her. Though their visit was unexpected, she appreciated her girls for always coming through.
“I really should preserve my voice. I overworked it last night.”
Cheyla and Zoey turned their heads toward one another, and they smirked before loudly clapping. Orielle couldn’t mask the smile on her face if she tried.
“I know that’s right!” Zoey celebrated, affirming her like only a Black woman could.
Orielle had no intentions of having sex with Najee last night.
As a woman, there was always a ninety-nine percent chance of knowing whether she’d give the goodies up to a man.
There was always intentionality behind her decision, yet last night proved otherwise.
Besides just wanting to feel his mouth on her lady parts while rubbing the waves in his head, Orielle had no explanation to give for riding Najee’s dick the way she had.
There was no motive behind it, and that wasn’t typically her style, but she wasn’t regretting her choices. It’d been the best damn ones she’d made in a very long time.
“So, you can barely walk or sit down. Your voice is gone, and had you been of a lighter complexion, that hickey on your neck would be easily detected.”
Cheyla’s observations made Orielle brush her hand across both sides of her neck. She wasn’t sure where Najee had left his mark and obviously didn’t care, judging from her nonchalant mood. It was anything a bit of foundation couldn’t cover up.
“Mhm,” Zoey hummed. “That tells us everything we need to know.”
“That dick was good, huh?” Cheyla asked.
“Stupendous, actually. Gave very much, that dick makes my soul smile. That dick makes me so damn proud .”
Breaking out into a Jhené Aiko song to describe the way Najee laid that dick down was so Orielle-coded. She’d written entire songs about him, so of course, hitting a few gravelly notes was nothing. They were lucky she hadn’t put on a full performance because that’s truly what he deserved.
“Not you the pussy fairy!” Zoey shouted.
“I can’t believe this.” Cheyla snickered.
Orielle shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t either. I’d blame it on me being high, but that wasn’t even the case.”
“Well, tell us what happened. The last time we talked, he was bringing you some food before you went home,” Zoey said.
“And then she got eaten up instead. Wait, he did eat your pussy, right?” Cheyla questioned. It was mandatory in her book, and she hoped Orielle applied the same rules no matter how long it’d been.
“Off the bone,” Orielle answered, with pursed lips.
She wasn’t letting him slide that dick up in her without coming up off the head first. Najee wouldn’t have had it any other way.
T he Previous Night
Accepting his offer to bring her food probably wasn’t the best decision for Orielle to make when she was high.
Najee hadn’t even offered, though. He readily gave her a solution for her post-high munchies that just so happened to be him catering to her needs.
It was a gesture he didn’t put much thought into.
For that reason alone, Orielle was floating.
Had she been on the phone complaining about the delivery drivers to her ex, he wouldn’t have made any moves to accommodate her.
Dealing with a fuck boy and then elevating with a real man who just did without her having to ask was the type of treatment every woman deserved.
If a man wanted to, he would.
Some men didn’t and never would.
It was that simple.
Actions always spoke louder than words, and Najee’s had done just that. They also had Orielle eyeing him, as if she would have rather eaten him instead of the fresh fries and spicy chicken nuggets she requested from Wendy’s.
“Why you staring at me like that?” Najee asked.
She’d zoned completely out, gazing at him beside her on the couch. He’d just returned from the bathroom, and she couldn’t help but wonder what his parents looked like. They had to be extremely attractive because Najee was too fine for words. So, she didn’t speak right away.
Orielle quietly assessed his handsome features. His crisp line, smooth, blemish-free mocha complexion, and long lashes were a lethal combo in conjunction with his wild brows, kissable lips, and well-manicured mustache and beard. She loved his hooded brown eyes, too.
She inhaled his scent, which subtly overpowered the lavender and linen candle burning inside the booth.
When his warm, calloused hand touched her thigh, Orielle broke her trance.
You’d think she had nothing on the way his touch felt like it burned her skin through the material of her yoga pants.
He asked her something, but she failed to hear him over her loud thoughts.
“Sorry. What’d you say?”
“I asked if you were good. You were staring like a mothafucka. You got somethin’ you wanna get off your chest?” Najee asked jokingly.
She giggled, rolling her eyes. “No. Is it a crime for me to stare? Maybe I like what I see.”
Najee knew Saleem would talk shit if he saw the way this girl had him grinning. Had he been shades lighter, a blush would’ve appeared. He didn’t bother masking the expression, showing off those pretty teeth she wanted to run her tongue across.
This man is too damn fine, she thought.
“I like what I see, too, Pretty Girl.”
She sat cross-legged on the couch, with her bare feet tucked beneath her.
Her ginger hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail with soft tendrils framing her face.
The cropped, zipped hoodie she had on showed her belly, which was slightly poking out from eating.
Her bare face, with no lashes and only lip oil on, was so naturally pretty, it made Najee stare right back.
“You don’t have anything to do tonight?” Orielle asked, fiddling with a string on the pocket of his pants.
“Nah. I’m chilling here with you. Why? You ready for me to leave? Just like a Black person; eating and dipping out.”
Laughing, Orielle said, “No. That’s not why. I was just wondering.”
Grabbing her hand, Najee lifted it to examine the tattoo symbols on her wrist. He smelled the lavender oil she rubbed there to calm her during sessions. Sometimes, her nerves got the best of her when recording or writing.
“Why’d you get the peace sign in the middle?” he asked.
Although he hadn’t seen many tattoos with the symbols, he knew the mantra: ‘Peace, love, and harmony.’
“Because I found peace through music and love. It’s the grounding force between the two things I value the most.”
“Damn,” Najee uttered.