Chapter 5
GIVE ME YOU
“God—FUUUCK!” I groaned loudly as I stroked my dick feverishly, body jerking as I coated the shower wall with the reward of my orgasm.
I didn’t stop until I was lightheaded and damn near about to pass out from the release and the heat of the water, but I needed that nut.
It was the only way I would be able to make it through my planned lunch meeting with Amaya without my dick flipping over the table and making his presence known.
I hadn’t touched a woman in over a year—not since Chanel and I officially ended things.
Yes, I would get hard, and I was more than capable of handling it myself—or occasionally letting Pearl handle it—but the thought of being with another woman fucked me up.
That was until a week ago when Amaya Lewis walked her fine ass into my life and used those sexy ass lips to put me in my place.
Since then, I had been bricked up at any given moment and having to indulge in a lot of self-care.
It didn’t help that I had done some research on her and stalked everything from her professional background to her social media. I knew everything from her shoe size and favorite vacation spots to her last relationship with a ballplayer that she seemed to desperately want to stay private.
The picture of her in a purple bikini from her trip to Jamaica last year was the one currently plaguing my thoughts, and what caused me to end up beating my meat in the shower before I headed out.
I was starting to think that Niko was right, maybe something was wrong with me.
I thought that Chanel had finally pushed me so far that I could never enjoy good pussy again.
Now, all that consumed my thoughts were fantasies of me fucking the baby hairs off the one woman in the world that I couldn’t fucking have.
I sucked my teeth at my reflection and stared at myself in the mirror while I dried my body off.
A nigga was handsome and used to have a whole team of women to handle my needs.
After really trying to make it work and be faithful to one woman, and having the shit blow up in my face, I was off all that shit.
I put all my energy into being the best version of myself and was doing well with that, until Chanel threw another wrench in my fucking plans.
My longer than usual shower routine put me behind schedule, so I had to hurry and get dressed to make sure I made it to our meeting on time.
I was fully prepared to wreck my damn car en route before I showed up even a minute late to see this woman.
I knew she would never let me live it down, especially after all the hell I raised last time.
We went to the same restaurant as before but left our people at home so we could really get to this shit without all the outside noise.
“Nice of you to join me,” Amaya said with a smirk as she looked up from her laptop as I rounded the corner to our table.
She was so fucking fine… and sarcastic as hell, because I was two minutes early.
Still the professional, she had on a pair of wide legged dress pants and a purple button up top…
Purple just like the bikini that I spent my morning fantasizing about.
“I said I was sorry. It wasn’t my finest moment,” I shrugged sheepishly, sitting across from her.
Something about the way she looked at me like she wanted me to let her down made me want to crawl into my own skin.
“This is really taking a toll on me.” My answer was honest, probably the most honest I had been with anyone.
I didn’t want to let anyone know just how much this shit with Chanel was affecting me, but I was tired of shrugging it off.
“Apology accepted, just please don’t make me fire you again.”
“Fire me?” I shot back with an amused look on my face. I couldn’t even play it cool, she was funny as fuck, and I enjoyed being in her presence.
“I told you that you were a lil’ slow. Yes, I fired you. And if you keep actin’ up, I’ll do it again.” I don’t know if she knew what she was doing, but the urge to bend her thick ass over that table grew stronger every time she popped off on me.
“Noted. Can I make one request,” I asked earnestly.
“What?”
“Can you skip all the formalities and extra professional shit?”
“I’m always professional,” she quipped back.
“So you saying that you would rather rub a porcupine on your pussy than work with me, was you being professional?” My eyes narrowed at her and she damn near spit out her water.
“Okay, not my finest moment, but you started it!”
“I’m not gonna argue with you on that, but that’s what I need, more people to tell me the real. I have enough people telling me whatever I wanna hear.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“Just give me… you.” Her eyes narrowed at my words, but I stood on it, staring her down. I already knew so much about her, but the need to know more was so strong that it almost hurt.
“Okay. But you’ve been warned, I’m a lot, and now that we have a verbal contract, you can’t go trying to let me go because I cussed you the fuck out. I’ll sue your ass… And win.”
“Bet,” I nodded and held in my laughter. It had been a while since I met a woman as funny as her. She was too quick with the comebacks and had me scrambling to catch up. How anyone could ever call her “a lot” was beyond me because I needed more.
We paused our conversation for a moment so we could order our food, but I couldn’t help the way my eyes landed on her, even when she wasn’t speaking to me. She had every molecule of my attention and didn’t even know it.
My phone rang and I pulled it out, looked at the name, then ignored it. When I found out who the fuck kept giving my sperm donor my phone number, I was cussing them the fuck out.
“Chase, what the hell is that?” she yelped, her eyes wide in confusion as she looked at my phone like it was some sort of alien communication device.
“It’s… my phone.”
“Nigga… You have a flip phone?! Exactly how old are you?”
“36,” I shrugged. Her almond shaped eyes looked at me blankly for a few moments, then she blinked slowly.
“So why would you have a flip phone? With big ass buttons at that!”
“All I need is to make calls and texts, and my phone bill is $25.99 a month! I don’t need all that other shit!”
“Is everything okay? Like, do I need to get my payment upfront?” I couldn’t tell whether she was kidding or not, but the dead serious expression on her face quickly let me know that she wasn’t and didn’t play about her money.
“I’m good,” I chuckled, knowing that I was more than good. I never really splurged and had enough between my savings and investments for my great grandchildren to never have to struggle. “I just don’t see the point.”
“How do you check your emails? Social media?”
“I have laptops and tablets at the crib, but when I’m out and about, I don’t have time to be reading emails and shit. All that is just a distraction. I play football, and that’s my number one priority. Anything urgent is taken care of by Niko.”
“If someone wanted to send you nudes, ain’t no way you can see em on that lil’ ass screen!” Her thoughts spilled out of her lips, then she immediately snapped them shut.
“I’m actually a physical media type of nigga. No hacking a polaroid. Any more questions?”
“Nah, lemme see it! I really can’t believe this shit!
I haven’t seen one of these since at least ’06!
” She snatched the phone from me and immediately put it to her ear before saying bye and aggressively flipping it shut no less than five times, each time with a different personality—one of which was French.
That time, I had to hold my stomach she had me laughing so hard.
It was like I gave her the freedom to be herself, and she immediately showed me how looney she was.
I couldn’t lie; I liked it.
“Are you vegan or something?” I asked, my face frowned up when I saw the salad that she ordered. I swear that motherfucker had every single fruit on the planet, and absolutely no meat.
“No,” she laughed and shook her head. “I just like fruit, any fruit. I prefer it to meat.” She looked at the expression on my face. “You don’t eat fruit?”
“Too many carbs,” I said, looking down at my plate of grilled chicken, brown rice, and broccoli that looked boring as fuck next to her colorful ass dish.
“Oh God. I’m about to represent a lunatic.”
Once she got all her jokes off, she looked down her nose at me like she was looking over an imaginary pair of glasses, then pulled a notebook and pen from her bag.
“Okay, so let’s get down to work.”
“Where do we start?” I asked.
“At the beginning,” she said, looking me dead in my eyes.
So, we did.
“My nigga! We in here! We fuckin’ made it dawg!
” My best friend Rome screamed over the bass of the track the DJ was spinning.
I was a few games into my rookie season in the NFL, and he was about to start his second year in the NBA for the New York Knights.
Rome and I had grown up together and after splitting up for college, me in Texas and him in Washington.
We finally reunited on the East Coast after somehow getting drafted to the same city.
“We did my nigga! We did it!” I clapped his shoulder as the two of us basked in our success.
We were just lil’ niggas and had rented a small section in a club to celebrate life with a few of our teammates.
Young us had no idea, but that was just the tip of the iceberg on the amount of success we would achieve.
“Ooooh,” one of the girls we had brought into our section hooted, sounding like a damn fire truck.
“There’s Starr Biggs!” Our heads snapped in the direction of the large group of people walking past our section.
We were happy enough to witness, but when she stopped and looked in our direction, it took everything in us to play it cool.
“Hey, you two play ball, right?” she asked with her brows raised, laughing when we nodded in awe. “What are your names?”
“Chase Andrews,” I gulped.
“Rome Pierre St. John.” I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at that nigga… regal sounding ass name. I knew I lost that battle when her eyes hazed over and fixed on his ass.
“Y’all wanna party with us upstairs?” she propositioned with a wink as she leaned in closer, her perfect titties pushed right in front of our eager young eyes.
“Us?” Rome asked with a confused expression.
We were Z-List compared to the singer turned actress who was one award away from a fucking EGOT.
We were in our early twenties and had been lusting after that woman since puberty hit so we nearly tripped over our own feet, shoving each other aside so we could join her entourage and head upstairs.
The girls we were with were pissed when they realized they were getting left behind until we told them they could keep the section and bottles that we had ordered.
An hour later, my social battery had completely depleted as I sat in a corner watching Starr and Rome dance and slob each other down.
I was 99% sure they would be ending the night together and knew I would never hear the end of it.
I had just made the decision to give it another ten minutes and head out when I felt someone sit down beside me.
I turned, my gaze going right into the prettiest brown eyes I’d ever seen.
I immediately broke into the goofiest grin imaginable as I took in her pretty round face with high cheekbones and slim thick frame.
“You’re Chanel King, right?” I asked with more excitement than I intended to.
“You… know me?” she asked, her pretty face mirroring my shock.
“Yeah. I’m not ashamed to say I was a Youtube addict my freshman year of college.
I saw that cover you did of Believe It and was locked in ever since.
I mean I would rush back to the dorm after my Thursday class to watch your new uploads.
I’m a day one, I been with you this whole journey.
Congratulations on your new deal,” I laughed, tipping my imaginary hat to her, then immediately feeling like a lame for doing the most.
“Thank you!” She gave me a smile so bright, it made mine return even bigger. “And congratulations on all of your success. I heard one of the girls say you were recently drafted?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the second string running back for the Tigers. Nothing too crazy.”
“Uh uh! Hell naw! We don’t downplay shit over here! You’re doing things that I’m sure you dreamed of since you were a little boy. It’s only up from here,” she scolded as she clinked her glass with mine in a celebratory toast.
“For both of us,” I added.
And it was… for a while. Chanel and I were inseparable after that—going from acquaintances to full blown lovers in a matter of weeks.
She was my best friend and my biggest supporter.
Her debut album catapulted her into instant stardom, and eventually a torn ACL bumped me to first string.
Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to show up and show out.
For the first two years, things were absolute perfection, then the cracks started to show.
I wasn’t perfect by a long shot, but I knew that my biggest mistake was trying to hold on for way too long.
“So if you could do it over again, would you have ended it earlier?” Amaya asked.
Every time she moved, I caught a whiff of her, she smelled like sunshine…
and fucking caramel. All the hard work I did before to drain my balls was reversed in an instant as I adjusted myself to conceal what was happening under the table.
“I-… sorry, what?” I asked with a squint.
“I said, if you knew what you know now, would you have ended things earlier?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she leaned forward on her elbows. She was dressed professionally, and I was still doing everything in my power to make sure she stayed fully clothed in my head.
“Knowing that she’s capable of some bullshit like this? I never would have gave her ass a second glance. My reputation is everything to me, and she knows that. I was born into an abusive household, so the fact that she would use this against me? Fuck her! Sorry…”
“No, I agree, fuck her, but you can’t go saying that to everyone. Just say it to me if you need to. Attorney-client privilege,” she mused with a coy grin.
“Noted,” I assured her with a warm smile. My face immediately fell, because I could already feel myself getting way too friendly with this woman, and I knew it couldn’t be anything more than what it was.