Case
I slipped it on and rolled the sleeves up to my elbows.
My tattoos were on full display now. The script running down my forearms, the portraits on my biceps, all of it telling a story I didn’t need to explain.
Next, I put on a pair of fitted black jeans and Giuseppe’s on my feet.
Then, I grabbed my gold Cuban link chain off the dresser.
I put it on and adjusted it so it sat right against my chest before putting on my AP watch.
I wasn’t flashy for no reason. I’d earned every dollar I had, and I wasn’t about to apologize for it.
I’d been thinking about Roemy’s ass all damn day.
Hell, I’d been thinking about her since last night and that shit had me bricked up.
And then this afternoon at the book event when I had her in that bathroom?
Fuck. The way she felt. The way she sounded.
The way her pussy clenched around my fingers when she came.
All I could think about was bending her thick ass over and fucking her until she couldn’t remember her nigga’s name.
I grabbed my phone off the bed and checked the time.
It was eight. I told her to meet me in the lobby at eight-thirty.
That gave me thirty minutes to roll up and smoke to get my head right.
Quickly, I rolled up and stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the city, the warm night air hitting my face as I sat down.
The traffic crawled through the streets below as I sparked it up and took a long pull.
I let the smoke fill my lungs before slowly blowing it out into the night.
Once I was done, I stepped back inside my suite and sprayed cologne.
Standing in front of the mirror, I took a deep breath.
I needed to chill. I couldn’t walk into the lobby looking like I was ready to fuck her right there in front of everybody.
I had to play it cool. But damn, it was hard when all I wanted to do was get her alone and make her cream.
I grabbed my wallet and my room key, slipped them into my pocket, and headed for the door.
The elevator ride down felt like it took forever.
When the doors finally opened up, I stepped out into the lobby.
It was busy as hell. People were everywhere, either checking in or heading out, and people were sitting in the lounge area talking and laughing.
I scanned the lobby, looking for Roemy. And then I saw her.
She was standing near the front desk, looking at her phone.
She wore a tight red dress that hugged every curve of her body.
I could see the outline of her hips, her thighs, and her ass.
Her long, curly hair was pushed back, flowing down to her ass, and she had on heels that made her legs look even longer than they already were. She looked fucking incredible.
I walked over to her, taking my time, letting my eyes take in every inch of her. She looked up when she heard me coming, and when our eyes met, I saw it. That same look she’d had in the bathroom earlier. That look that said she wanted me just as bad as I wanted her.
“Damn, Ms. Blackwell,” I said when I got close enough. “You look good as hell.”
She smiled and I saw her cheeks flush. “Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself.”
“I try.” I looked her up and down one more time, not even trying to hide it. “You ready, baby?”
“Yeah. I’m ready.”
I put my hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the exit.
I could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress, and it took everything in me not to slide my hand lower and grab her ass right there in the lobby.
We walked outside, and the valet brought my car around.
I’d rented a black Range Rover for the weekend.
Opening the passenger door for her, I watched as she slid in, her dress riding up just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her thighs.
I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, trying to keep my composure.
I got in, started the engine, and pulled out of the hotel parking lot.
For a minute, neither of us said anything; the tension in the car was thick.
“So where are we going?” Roemy asked, breaking the silence.
“This rooftop spot uptown. Good food, good drinks, and a dope view.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is. I figured we could eat, talk, and see where the night takes us.”
She looked over at me and I could see the corner of her mouth lift into a small smile. “See where the night takes us, huh?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”
“No. No problem.”
“Good.” I turned the R&B music up a little and tried to focus on the road. We drove through the city, the lights flashing by, and I kept stealing glances at her. She was looking out the window, but I could tell her mind was somewhere else. “You nervous?” I asked.
She looked at me. “A little.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t usually do this.”
“Do what?”
“This. Go out with someone I just met. Let them take me to dinner. Let them…” She trailed off, and I knew what she was about to say.
“Let them fuck you through the mattress?” I finished for her. She didn’t say anything, but I saw the way her breath caught and the way her thighs pressed together. “Listen, beautiful. You ain’t gotta be nervous,” I said. “I’m not gon’ do nothin’ you don’t want me to do.”
“I know.”
“But I am gonna do everything you do want me to do.”
She looked at me, and I could see the heat in her eyes. “And what makes you think you know what I want?”
“I just know, Roe. You want a nigga as bad as I want you,” I told her, briefly glancing her way before focusing back on the road. She didn’t deny it either. She just looked at me, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling a little faster than before. “You followed my instructions?” I asked.
“What instructions?”
“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”
She bit her lip and I knew the answer before she even said it. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I did.”
I felt my dick jump in my slacks. “Good girl.”
We pulled up to the restaurant a few minutes later.
I handed the keys to the valet and we walked inside.
The place was upscale, with dim lighting, candles on every table, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
The hostess greeted us and led us upstairs.
It was lit. I pulled out Roemy’s chair for her, and she sat down, smoothing her dress over her thighs.
I sat across from her, and for a second, we just looked at each other.
“This is really nice,” she finally said, looking around.
“I figured you deserved somethin’ nice."
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to feed you before you feed me.” Before she could respond, the waiter came over and took our drink orders. I got cognac on the rocks and Roemy ordered a glass of wine. When he left, I leaned back in my chair and looked at her. “So let me ask you somethin’.”
She sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be interviewed?”
“Because you are.”
She laughed. “What’s the question?”
“How the fuck you be writin’ those sex scenes so good?” That caught her off guard.
“What kinda question is that?”
“A serious one.”
She shook her head, smiling. “You write the same shit I write.”
“Nah. We both write erotica, but our scenes feel different.”
“Oh, here we go.”
“I’m serious. My readers always talk about the tension and the foreplay. Yours be havin’ women ready to leave their husbands for your MMC’s.”
Roemy nearly snorted while laughing. I thought it was cute. “That is not true.”
“The hell it ain’t. Have you read your reviews?” She laughed harder. “So what’s the secret?”
“There is no secret.”
“There gotta be.”
“There really isn’t.”
I pointed at her. “See, that’s that best sellin’ author answer right there.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine,” she said.
“I think people get too caught up in what characters are doing instead of why they’re doing it.
Anybody can write two attractive people in a room together.
The real challenge is making readers understand why they can’t stop thinking about each other.
Why they can’t keep their hands off each other. ”
I stared at her for a second. “That’s actually the perfect answer.”
“I know.”
Our drinks came, and for the next few minutes, we chopped it up like two people who genuinely loved what they did.
We argued about writing routines, difficult characters, deadlines, and readers who acted like authors could write a whole novel in a day.
And somewhere between the laughter and conversation, I found myself falling for her mindset.
When our food finally came, steak for me and pasta for her, the conversation switched to real-life intimacy.
“I just wanna feel something real,” Roemy said before wiping the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin. “I wanna feel the way I write about in my books. I wanna feel alive.”
“Then let me make you feel that.”
She looked at me, and I could see the heat rising in her cheeks. “I… I have a confession.”
“What’s that?” I reached for my glass of cognac, eyeing her intently.
“Before I met you in person, I wondered about you. About the way you write and the way you describe… sex. The way you make it feel so real.”
“And you wondered if I’m like that in real life?”
“Yeah.”
I smirked. “You want a verbal answer or a physical one?”
Roemy smiled, shaking her head as she twirled her pasta with the fork. “You are really something else.”
“And you’re horrible as fuck at playin’ shit cool.” We laughed and I loved the sound of hers. It was genuine.
But underneath the laughter, there was something heavy sitting between us, and it wasn’t just my dick. else. I reached under the table and put my hand on her knee. She froze, but she didn’t move my hand. I just left it there, feeling the warmth of her skin, the way her leg tensed under my touch.
“You soft as hell,” I told her, licking my lips.
“So I’ve been told,” she softly replied, but her voice was shaky.