21. Asha
Asha
Cee dropped me at the building. I walked through the lobby, out the side entrance, and around the corner.
Omar's car was parked half a block down with the engine running.
I got in, closed the door, and we drove to Bed-Stuy without saying much because the anticipation was too great and the danger was real.
It was only the second time I'd been to the apartment but I'd paid attention the first time.
The creak in the third step on the staircase, which key opened the deadbolt versus the handle, glasses in the cabinet above the sink.
He slept on the left side of the bed. The shower ran hot for exactly seven minutes before it started cooling.
I'd paid attention because it mattered to me. Every detail stored, every surface memorized, every corner of his space filed away in a part of my brain that Supreme would never find.
Omar locked the door behind us. I set my bag on the counter and turned to face him.
"Hey," I said, unable to hide the smile on my face despite knowing what we were doing was wrong.
"Hey."
He crossed the room to me, slower than the first time.
No urgency, no rush. He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at him properly.
His hand came up to my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone, then down along my jaw to my chin.
He tilted my face up and looked at me for a long time without kissing me.
"What?" I whispered.
"Nothing. Just looking."
"You always stare this much?"
"Only at you."
I put my hands on his chest. His heartbeat was steady under my palm. "We got about an hour."
"Then we shouldn't waste it."
He kissed me. Slow this time, his mouth moving against mine with patience, like he had all day even though we both knew he didn't. His hands went to the hem of my sweater and he lifted it over my head, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull the fabric clear.
He looked at my bra, then at me, then reached behind me and unhooked it himself.
Took it off slowly, sliding the straps down my arms one at a time.
"You're beautiful," he said, his voice low.
"You said that last time."
"I'mma say it every time."
He kissed my neck, my shoulder, the space between my collarbones. His mouth moved down to my breast and his tongue circled my nipple until it hardened and I gripped the back of his head, my fingers curling into his hair.
"Take your shirt off," I told him.
He pulled it over his head and I ran my hands over his chest, his stomach, the scar on his arm from the knife fight. I traced it with my finger, then leaned forward and kissed it. He went still.
"What was that for?" he asked quietly.
"Because it's part of you."
He picked me up. My legs went around his waist and he carried me to the bedroom, his mouth on mine the whole way. He laid me down on the bed and stood over me, looking at me lying there in just my jeans.
"Take yours off," I said.
"You first."
I unbuttoned my jeans and lifted my hips to slide them down. He watched me do it, his eyes moving over every inch of skin as it appeared. I kicked them off the end of the bed and lay there in just my underwear.
"Your turn," I said.
He undid his belt, dropped his jeans, and pulled his boxers down. He was already hard, his dick thick and heavy, and the sight of him standing there naked above me made my stomach tighten in anticipation.
"Come here," I whispered.
He lowered himself onto the bed beside me, not on top of me. On his side, facing me, one hand sliding across my stomach to my hip. His fingers hooked into the waistband of my underwear and pulled them down slowly, his knuckles grazing my thigh on the way.
"I think about you when he touches me," I said quietly.
He paused. His hand rested on my bare hip.
"Every time he's near me, every time he puts his hands on me, I close my eyes and it's you." I looked at him. "You're the only person who's ever made me feel like I'm not putting on a front."
Something moved in his face. He leaned in and kissed me again, deeper this time. his tongue finding mine while his hand slid between my legs. His fingers found me wet, ready, and I gasped against his mouth when he slid two inside.
"You this wet for me?" he asked against my lips.
"Always."
He worked his fingers inside me slowly, curling them upward, his thumb brushing my clit in slow circles. I grabbed his wrist, not to stop him but to hold him there, to keep him right where he was. My hips moved against his hand and my breathing got heavier.
"Right there," I breathed. "Don't move your hand."
He didn't. He kept that same rhythm, steady, patient, his eyes on my face watching every reaction. His mouth went to my neck and he kissed the spot below my ear while his fingers kept working. The pressure built, climbing, my thighs starting to shake.
"Let go," he said against my skin. "I got you."
I came on his hand with my face pressed into his shoulder, my body curling into his, my fingers digging into his arm. The orgasm rolled through me in long waves and he held me through it, his hand still between my legs, not moving now, just resting there while I came down.
"Shit," I whispered when I could speak again.
He smiled. Actually smiled, which was rare for Omar. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. His hands went to my hips, gripping the curve of them. I reached between us and took his dick in my hand, stroked him twice, then positioned him at my entrance.
I lowered myself onto him slowly. Inch by inch, taking all of him, watching his face change as I did. His grip tightened on my hips, his head pressed back into the pillow, and a sound came out of him that was somewhere between a groan and my name.
"Fuck," he breathed.
I started moving. Slow rolls of my hips, grinding down against him, finding the angle that hit every nerve. His hands slid from my hips up to my waist, pulling me down harder onto him with every roll. I put my hands on his chest and leaned forward, changing the angle, and we both felt it.
"Like that," he groaned. "Just like that."
I rode him with my hair falling around my face, my breasts brushing his chest every time I leaned forward. His hands were everywhere: my waist, my ass, my thighs, my back. He sat up beneath me, wrapping his arms around me, his face against my neck, and I locked my ankles behind his back.
"I missed this," I said into his ear. "I missed you so much."
"You got me now," he said. "You got me."
We moved together, his hips rising to meet mine, my body grinding down onto his. The rhythm built until the bed was creaking and my breathing was ragged and his hands were gripping my ass so hard there'd be marks tomorrow.
"I'm close," I told him.
"Come again for me." His voice was rough, strained. "Let me feel you."
I came again with his arms wrapped around me, my forehead against his, our breath mixing between us.
He followed me seconds later, his whole body tensing underneath me, a low groan vibrating through his chest into mine.
I collapsed against him, both of us breathing hard, skin against skin, sweat cooling between us.
We lay there tangled together for a while. My head on his chest, his arm around my shoulders, his thumb drawing lazy circles on my skin. The apartment was quiet except for the street noise coming through the window.
"I'm close to the number," I said after a while. "Two thousand five hundred away."
His thumb stopped moving. "Yeah?"
"I've been thinking about actually leaving. For real this time. Not the plan or the daydream. Actually going."
He was quiet for a moment. "Would you let me help?"
"I've been doing this alone for so long, Omar. I don't know how to let somebody else in on it."
"You already have." He looked at me. "You're lying in my bed telling me about it. That's in."
He was right. I didn't know when it had happened exactly, the moment I'd stopped keeping the exit plan locked inside my own head and started sharing it with this man who had his own reasons to want Supreme gone. But it had happened and there was no undoing it now.
"If I leave," I said carefully, "Supreme will come looking."
"Let him look."
"Omar."
"I said let him look." His voice was level but the weight underneath it was something else entirely. "He can look all he wants."
I pressed my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong underneath my ear. "You can't fight him alone."
"Who said anything about alone?"
I lifted my head and looked at him. His eyes were fixed on the far wall, his expression calm, calculated, already working through something in his head that he wasn't ready to say out loud yet.
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"I'm thinking that when the time comes, you won't be doing this by yourself. That's all you need to know right now."
I put my head back on his chest. He tightened his arm around me. We stayed like that until I had to leave, neither of us talking, the silence doing more than words could have managed.
I got dressed, kissed him at the door like last time, texted Cee my location, and walked to the pickup spot. Eight minutes to spare.
"Everything go okay?" Cee asked when I got in.
"Yeah, all good. Took longer than I expected."
"No worries."
Supreme was out when I got home. Meeting, probably. I went to the bathroom, locked the door, and sat on the edge of the tub.
Two thousand five hundred away.
Omar's voice in my head: Let him look.
For the first time since Supreme, I believed somebody when they said it was going to be okay.
That terrified me more than Supreme ever had.