Victoria
The vestiges of Summer brought cooler evenings as it made way for fall to occupy its place in the forecasted weather. I welcomed the change with pleasure. The summer was scorching my ass alive. As the year crept to a close, my spring show to debut the line I’d created for the upcoming year drew closer.
Spring shows typically took place in late mid to late September or early October. We were just two months shy of our deadline. With that fact prevailing, my work days became longer. With every day that passed, an increasing level of stress was added the closer my team and I got to October.
All the pieces scheduled to be part of the spring line had been sketched out. The next step in the process was to get everything created. So far, my team accomplished twenty-five of the intended designs. We had another fifteen to go.
Maybe I had been too ambitious with the new collection. The complicated experimental designs were inhibiting our progress. The tortoise coat and the airplane trench kept my seamstresses working overtime in the atelier. At present, I was locked in my office making digital adjustments to the two designs. The only visible lights came from two desk lamps. One was affixed to the collection board, shining light on the sketches and swatches attached to them, and another was positioned downward to the sprawled images on my desk.
Everything else in the office was dark, save for my computer screen. Working tirelessly was an understatement. I couldn’t bear the thought of going home yet. Not when my team was burning the midnight oil.
“Ugh.” My frustration manifested in the form of a groan. With my elbows affixed to the desk, I planted my head in my hands. I was exhausted and hungry, but going home seemed so selfish. Especially when I considered how much time we had left. A handful of seamstresses were busting their asses to get things a few projects done this evening.
Three raps against my door caused my head to shift in its direction. My lack of visual coordination revealed that I’d dozed off in the exact position I’d settled in. My stiff elbow joints confirmed the offense.
“Yes?” I called out to the soul on the opposite side of the door. “Come in.” Whomever it was could enter. There were only a handful of us in the building.
“Hey.” The gruff baritone issued the greeting, energizing me out of my lethargic position. As I moved my arms, my elbow joints popped in protest.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I smiled and stood as Saint entered the office looking all edible in cargo shorts, Nike slides with socks, and a plain white tee. It was the classic fuck nigga fit, but my husband was far from that.
“I got home, and you weren’t there. Sam informed me he was still at Demure. I picked up something on the way since you seemed to be pulling an all-nighter.”
“I’m not staying all night,” I confessed, wrapping my arms around him and inhaling the subtle smell of coconut, musk, and sandalwood. “I just wanted to pull my share of the weight.”
“Sounds like you need to throw that shit around and go home when your body demands rest, boss lady.”
“I know. I know. What’s in the bag, though?”
Smirking, Saint extracted himself from my grasp and cleared my desk of the papers scattered about. Once he made a clutter-free space, he began unloading the bag’s contents. Hibachi fried rice and vegetables were for me. He’d ordered steak with his portions. Everything smelled like heaven, but as he laid out all the food across the desk, my desire to be at home grew in propensity.
“I don’t know how you work in all this confusion, woman. This shit would run me crazy,” he fussed, glancing around the office at the disarray.
“This was a really sweet gesture, babe.” Ignoring his complaints, I gazed at the food scattered on my desk.
“But…” He froze, waiting for me to rupture the bubble he was on.
“I want to go home and eat in comfort. Then I want a shower, and then I just want to cuddle with you until I fall asleep. I’m tired. I don’t want to spend another minute here.”
“Then why didn’t you bring ya ass home, Beauty? I could have saved the trip.”
“I fell asleep. Your knocks woke me up.”
“Okay. Help me pack all this stuff up so we can get you home.”
Finally home and true to form, I peeled myself out of the chiffon dress I’d been in all day, removed the satin headband from my head, stepped out of the strappy heels, and headed straight for the shower. Had it not been for Saint bringing my plate of food up to the bedroom, I would have happily crashed on an empty stomach.
Looking down at the plate, I noticed everything had been arranged separately. The rice was at least two inches away from the vegetables, and my ginger soy sauce was still in its container –also two inches away from everything else. It all caused me to stifle a chuckle. Saint just couldn’t help himself. He meant it when he said he didn’t like his food to touch.
“I got your little chocolate candies and shit too, Beauty,” he revealed once I’d taken a few bites of my food.
“You mean my Paramour truffles?” My eyes hulked in size.
“The very same,” he nodded as he crawled into bed and positioned himself against the pillows.
Once a month, right before my cycle, I had to have those truffles available to me. Saint had picked up on my cravings and was offering assistance.
“Aw. Thank you, babe.”
“Are you about to get all misty-eyed and start crying?”
“Shut up!” I kissed my teeth and did exactly that.
Chicken and waffles. The simple vegetarian dish was aptly named, though it contained no animal meat. It wasn’t named to be deceptive. It was named because of the familiarity – the look and taste made it familiar to meat for herbivores like me.
Like many who’d chosen the particular diet, I wasn’t against meat or the taste of it. In fact, for me, it was pure vanity. I noticed how celebrities had begun to slow their aging process by reducing meat from their diet. At thirty years old, I sought to remain frozen in time with my current appearance, solidifying my decision not to indulge. The Lion’s Mane mushroom deep-fried in batter was seasoned to perfection, giving it a superb taste that rivaled the texture of meat.
After bathing my plate in hot sauce and syrup, I dug into my meal, pleased by what met my taste buds. Across from me sat Dream and Luna. Beside me sat Robyn. After waiting an expanse of time, we all enjoyed our food in cozy silence.
I’d been dodging my friends for weeks as I settled into comfort with my hoax of a marriage. Despite the truth, I hated thinking of it in such a way. There was nothing hoax-like about it to me. Saint was laid back, kind, and excessively endearing. I was energetic, outspoken, and engaging. Often, I felt like the flame to his impeccable cool.
Together, we lacked nothing except for the presence of unconditional love. Though presently absent, I had no doubts that it would soon flood us both and cause difficulty with leaving once my agreement was fulfilled.
Dream was the first to set her silverware down, prompting me to peer at her in curiosity. That heifer could eat. She never interrupted her affair with a meal until it was finished.
“Okay. Let’s discuss the issue at hand,” she announced.
“Issue? What issue?” I probed, scanning the table for any clues. Wiping my mouth clean with the napkin from my lap, I waited for an answer. Default of shame, I’d started on my plate, greedily devouring the contents without consideration for my surroundings.
“I speak for everyone when I say you have been acting weird and standoffish. You don’t return calls or texts. You’ve been flaking on our meet-ups. When we ask if you’re okay, you say you are, but your behavior tells a different story, Tori.”
Three sets of eyes landed on me, and I realized they’d been waiting to tear into my ass. This brunch was a setup.
“Ahem. Okay,” I started, instantly thinking of Saint and his response to everything. The simple affirmative word granted the ability to either end or continue a conversation. The only person wholly aware of which direction it would go was the person who’d spoken it. The fact that Saint had used it so frequently was ingenious, really.
“I’ve been busy…”
“Oh, cut the shit, Tori, we’re all busy,” Dream started. “Luna has her lumber business, I’m running a nightclub, and Robyn is almost always on the clock. That’s no excuse. If–”
“–I let you speak,” I clipped. “If you intend to talk over me and pursue an argument, I will not engage, heaux. Let me finish.”
Dream swatted her eyes at me, motioning with her hands for me to continue. Already, I didn’t like where the conversation was headed, but I pressed forward.
“As I stated, I’ve been busy. I have someone new in my life, and it’s serious.”
It was the only way to describe what was occurring with Saint in a way that my friends would understand. The question of whether or not I believed those words as I spoke them was unsettled and something to revisit later. Saint had latched on to my heart, burrowing roots, though I had yet to address it.
“We’ve been spending a lot of time together, so if you’ve been to the condo in South Pointe, I probably wasn’t there,” I shrugged.
Hell, up to now, I’d only been back to South Pointe a few times. Once to inform my parents I was moving, and the second time around was to collect personal items from the condo. My parents were nothing like my friends. For them, it was all out of sight, out of mind. It didn’t bother me that our relationship had been that way. Being raised under them, I’d grown accustomed to it.
As far as my friends went, you’d swear they pushed me out of their coochies.
“Wait, what do you mean by serious?” Luna pressed.
“I mean, I’m in his bed more often than my own.”
“So, do y’all live together? Tori, who is the nigga? Damn! Give us something,” Dream fussed.
“If you all would let me speak, I would,” I rolled my eyes. “His name is Saint Miller. He’s a marine biologist. He’s sweet, respectful, very handsome but shy.”
“Ew, shy Tori? Really?” Dream cringed, causing my nostrils to flare. The way her miserable ass disregarded every other adjective to run with that one word seeped under my skin and presented a red flag. “That’s not even your type.”
“The last of my type nearly locked me into a sex-trafficking ring, but alas, I digress.”
“Digress, heaux.”
“He’s autistic,” I blurted, not expecting any consequences as I tried to explain Saint’s shyness. He wasn’t my type, but he was growing on me. In fact, his type was swiftly becoming the only type that made sense for me.
“So, he’s slow?” Dream asked again.
“Like, does he interact with people well? Is he weird or into weird shit?” Luna tacked on.
“How did you get serious with a nigga on the spectrum?” Dream pressed, rolling her eyes.
The offense I harbored was heavily embedded in me. My friends had, in an instant, become frenemies. Saint didn’t deserve their judgment or their harsh words.
“First of all, fuck y’all!” I spat, lifting my glass and swallowing its contents before speaking again.
And maybe it was an overreaction, but were they being fucking for real? I reached for the prosecco, filling my glass again before adding a small drop of orange juice.
“He’s not slow. He’s more intelligent than all of you at this table combined. His brain isn’t broken. It just runs on a different operating system. People like y’all are truly, deeply what’s wrong with the world. The inconsideration, the ignorance, the condescending tone, the disrespect…”
I grunted and shook my head as if it would clear the ickiness emanating from them onto me and then turned to Luna.
“How dare you come for me as if your taste in men hasn’t been questionable, Luna. And Dream? You can’t keep a man to save your next breath. The nerve of you all to sit here and judge me as if–”
“We weren’t judging you, Tori,” Luna tried to assuage my rage, but at that point, I was on a war path. She should’ve eaten those words because they made the affront worse. “We just want to know who this new nigga is.”
“That’s not the way you framed the shit,” I huffed.
“Because we’re ready to go to war for our friend?” Dream chimed while Robyn sat back and sipped her mimosa. Fuck her, too, for being silent.
“Bravo bitches” I raved, clapping my hands for every camera in the restaurant. “Do you feel better about your fucked lives? They have to have been for you to feel the need to berate someone you don’t know. An attack against him is an attack against me! What the fuck is wrong with y’all? And Robyn? How could you sit there and say nothing?”
She began to open her mouth, but I was done listening to those heifers talk.
“Sis, you haven’t even given us the deets on this one, and you’re ready to bury us on the battlefield,” Luna tittered.
“What I do with my pussy is my motherfucking business. Whatever dick I land on is my concern, not any of yours!”
I motioned around the table to every one of them to drive my point home. And that dick they wanted to discuss at length as we often did with our non-prospects actually belonged to me. Saint was my husband, regardless of our agreement. I’d erected barriers around my man. Our sex life was not up for discussion.
Sure, I’d gotten lax with Dream, Robyn, and Luna in the past as we discussed the men in our lives and their performance in the bedroom. We were never serious about anyone when those discussions took place. All four of us were single, mingling, and casually dating up until I secretly bowed out. I was married now. Things with Saint were… different. I’d chosen to carry on as such because he wasn’t like those other niggas. Saint wasn’t a nigga at all. He was a man.
“Never have I ever judged or condemned any of you for the fucked up choices in the men you all have made. The fact that any of you could sit here and make tasteless commentary about a man you don’t know – a man I very vulnerably informed you I was serious with – tells me this is no place for me.”
They’d tried to keep the conversation light despite my anger, but I was done expending energy for their sake. My life had changed drastically since the addition of Miller to my last name. I was ready to get the hell back to my little oasis on the beach.
I gathered my belongings and the full bottle of prosecco we were previously enjoying and eased out of the round booth amidst their shocked expressions. Never mind the materialized phones from other tables recording the drama as it unfolded.
Limbs tingly, heart fluttery, head a cyclone, I returned to the house on Paramour Beach tipsy but on top of the world. Brunch with the girls was indeed immaculate until it wasn’t. Now safely back at home, I stumbled up the walkway to the front door, hauling the pair of heels I’d worn along with an empty prosecco bottle in my left hand. My purse was strewn over my shoulder, anchored by my right hand.
Determined to key in the code for entry, I put everything in my hands on the floor and pressed the buttons I assumed were correct. After the first failed attempt, the door swung open, saving me the effort. Clumsily, I fell into the steel chest of the mahogany-infused man standing before me.
“Saint,” I crooned, tossing my purse to the floor and wrapping my arms around his neck.”
He smelled good, he looked good, and I already knew he tasted good. Immediately, I wanted him between my lips. The verbal lashing I’d given my friends required my mouth to be rinsed clean, and I knew just the solution. As I dipped into that fantasy world, I was swiftly tugged out. I could feel myself being hoisted over the threshold and the front door closing behind me.
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m horny, husband. Put it in.” I swayed, rocking my hips against him.
“I’m about to put you in bed,” he said pointedly, both rejecting and riling me. His face dipped into a frown as he stepped back to observe me. It was a look that inspired a vision of me rocking on top. He continued to scrutinize me with those beady rounds, deeper summoning my arousal.
“How was brunch, Beauty?”
Immensely sobering, the question forced me to stand up straight. Up until Saint had become the focus of the conversation, brunch had gone well. As it shifted to me having to defend him, I found myself angry with my friends. Dream and Luna had been so ignorant and insensitive, and Robyn sat in silence, examining the attack as a bystander. Her complicity in remaining quiet further agitated me. They hadn’t even met him and were judging and berating him. Saint was being discussed at length without the ability to defend himself, and that triggered me to be protective.
I felt attacked. I felt territorial. For the first time in a long time, I felt uncomfortable around my friends. They’d been discussing my husband as if he wasn’t a person at all, and that left me unsettled, stewing, and happy to dismiss myself after reading them from crown to toe about their apathetic commentary and disrespect. I left the booth, chugging the prosecco I’d stolen as I hailed a cab. Without delay, I got the hell away from there. Tears were staining and stinging my cheeks, drying as quickly as they surfaced against the arid heat.
“Fuck those bitches,” I spat, recalling the memory comparable to bile surfacing on an empty stomach.
Saint’s brow hiked as he locked rounds with me. I’d told him about my friends and how important it was for us to maintain our closeness, so my apparent frustration was the pinnacle of his curiosity. The exchange between them wasn’t one I cared to discuss.
“So, not good?”
“It was fine until…just never mind. Can you take me upstairs and break my back?”
“Not like this, Beauty,” he declined, convinced that I wasn’t clear enough in the head to engage in sexual activity.
“I’m not drunk. I promise.”
“Tori, I can smell it on you.”
“Because I snatched the bottle from the table, and it spilled on me during my cab ride back here.”
“Should I be concerned about you storming off from those you speak so highly of with the bottle of wine you shared?”
“No!” I fussed, rolling my eyes. Discussing people he’d had to shelter himself from his entire life was not something I wanted to do. What I wanted was to fuck him so good that it made my pussy sore.
Saint dipped his head to sniff my blouse. His face lingered there before he kissed my neck.
He squeezed my breasts.
His hands grazed under my skirt and thumbed my clit.
And I whimpered, hiking my leg up to give him better access. Firmly, he held my thigh up, keeping me open and ready. Slow and steady was his pace, and I’d learned over the course of the last five months to revel in it. Inch by inch, he basked in the marveling of my body. As his tongue and teeth worked my neck, he slid the devastated cloth covering my sex aside, fingering me as I bucked into him.
I’d acquired the patience to relax as he took his time with my body, coming to appreciate it. The painstaking pace only made me wetter. Made the sex better. Intensifying the pleasure.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, Beauty. I don’t like this stench on you.”
As Saint freed me from gravity, lifting me from my feet, I wrapped my arms and legs around him. He carried me up the steps, and my lips wrapped around his, enjoying the mintiness of his breath and the clean, leathery scent of his cologne.
“You went diving today?” I asked, breaking away from our fiery kiss as he turned the corner to get to our bedroom.
“How can you tell?”
“You always spray cologne after you shower when you go diving. Why? You expecting some hot young stallion to be in your face and on your dick?” I teased.
“I don’t– Yes, I do,” he amended with a grin. “She’s 5’5. Deliciously brown-skinned. Big sultry eyes. A sexy mole on her left near her nose. An addictive dimple on her right.”
The summation of his obsession he housed for me left a satisfied smirk on my face. Sitting me on the edge of the bed, his hands gently tugged my skirt away. He hiked my blouse over my head and unsnapped my bra. For several seconds, he raked over my attentive nipples, pinching the pierced one.
“Saint…” My eyes lowered with need as I bit my lower lip.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, wifey.”
He pulled me to my feet and escorted me to the shower, pushing me under a stream of hot water that washed away my tipsy splendor. I soaped myself, keeping my eyes locked on the man my body cried for. It felt good letting the shower head beat against my limbs. I just wanted him to do it instead. He stood at the shower door’s opening, watching me until I reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him inside.
Inexplicably, my need for his closeness beset my heart and head. I needed him enveloping me in his essence to wash away the blemishes of Dream and Luna’s words. I wanted to bask in whatever it was that we’d been developing. I wanted to be overwhelmed by it.
He was fully clothed, though not for long. As water fell against us both, he removed his shirt, balling it up and tossing it over the glass door. Already, I was working the buckle of the cargo shorts he wore, unzipping them and letting them fall to his ankles. I, too, fell, massaging his growing erection and sliding the tip into my mouth. Saint eased backward into the marble walls for leverage, watching me work my mouth while he proceeded to catch flies with his.
Again and again, I slid that pole back and forth in my mouth, triggering the urge to gag.
Again and again, my fingers palmed his balls as I continued stuffing and sucking.
Again and again, his eyes shuttered and opened as if fearful he’d miss the highlight of my performance.
Again and again, I jawed him until he was ready to explode as he curled his toes.
Again and again, he pulsed until he released every drop of essence he housed.
And when I finished, I stayed on my knees, glancing up at his stunned afterglow and dragging my palm across his lower abs in feverous reverence. He was an absolute masterpiece, and he was mine, at least for another seven months.
The way his chest rose and fell.
The way he made my chest swell.
The way water ornamented his skin.
The way he made my head spin.
The way shadow and light danced against his frame.
The way lust pirated his face.
The way he permeated the space.
The way his teeth dug into his lips.
The way he made my heart skip.
The way he arrested my thoughts.
The way he granted my soul rest.
The way I’d go to war at his behest.
My God, I was obsessed.
My God, I was in love.
“Get up, Beauty.”
With his hand outstretched, he beckoned for me to stand. Once fully vertical, he captured my lips, grabbing a handful of ass as he went. The sensation was felt with overwhelming depth as I liberated myself to acknowledge the feelings that had been growing between us. Every touch stung with electric intensity. Every kiss coerced a stampede in my chest.
“Hands on the wall,” he instructed, and I knew this was about to be toe-curling and soul-snatchingly good. I planted my palms facing up against the marble, waiting for further instruction. With his lips pressed to my neck, he issued the second command.
“Spread your legs, Beauty.”
I could feel his dick pressed against my back and the top curve of my ass, desiring nothing more than to feel it buried deep in me. Without delay, I widened my stance and waited.
“I really want to suck that pussy clean, but I’ma give you what you want,” he whispered, positioning the head with my opening. “Arch that back, Tori. You know what time it is.”
As soon as my back dipped into that requested curve, he dove into me, menacingly sweet and slow. Lengthy strokes met my center repeatedly as he entered. And all the ill vibes I’d brought home with me were tempered. Dissipating like a vapor, my anger was hardly remembered. Instead, I surrendered to pleasure. Instead, I surrendered to the grips of my skin. Instead, I surrendered to his hands – his fingers threading mine. Instead, I surrendered to lost track of time. He vanquished every concern, filling me repeatedly, caressing my insides with his strokes.
His palm collided with the side of my ass as he mumbled incoherently from behind. Hearts and bodies aligned, we commenced a slow grind. My walls contracted against savory strokes, causing him to dig his teeth into my shoulder as his touch continued to smolder.
“Tori,” he gritted as eager hips pushed back into him, requesting a higher speed.
He dipped into me once more, slowly removing himself until I felt his absence. Ending the shower, he pulled me by hand out of the stall until we were in the bedroom. With my body dripping wet everywhere, I watched him ease onto the bed.
“Since you want to set the pace, come and put that pussy on me.”
He pulled me between his legs, looking up as I straddled him. As I seated myself on his lap with him inside, his dick pulsed, issuing the green light for me to move. My hands connected to his shoulders as I menacingly rocked forward and back, enjoying the feel of him filling me.
Guttural moans and mewls tumbled from our lips. Saint dug into my hips, colliding with my movements and never losing his grip. Bites were awarded to my neck and breasts as the momentum progressed. Saint lifted his hips, leaving me absolutely breathless.
As I bounced up and down, my breasts did, too, sending Saint into a frenzied state. He slammed into me from below, pound for pound. Blow for blow, we both mowed. And then he shifted us, and I was on my side as he dug into me, hiking my thigh to meet my eyes. The friction from the position caused impossible tension to peak in me, and,
“I’m cumming!”
“Victoria! Fuck, baby!” Saint growled, and I could feel him letting off in me with a firm thrust forward.
Both spent, we lay there, still connected and a sticky mess. With neither of us desiring to move, we laid chest to chest –me tracing his jawline and him tracing his name on my thigh. Immersed in bliss, we eyed each other, sharing comfortable silence. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was the sound of his snores.
“So, are you ready to tell me what happened at brunch?”
Repeatedly, my eyes continued fluttering as I shifted from sleep to lucidness. Judging by my position, Saint was still lodged inside of me. We’d been asleep for over an hour. His hand caressed against my thigh, still draped over him, as I felt his erection growing to fill me up again.
Never removing himself from his resting place, he shifted to stand on his knees with my legs spread on both sides of him, commencing a slow rock of his hips.
“Mmmh, Saint…”
“Tell me what happened, Beauty.”
“I told them about you.”
He hit my bottom then, causing me to wince from the pleasure tinged with pain.
“And?” He rocked.
“And they were…”
“They were bitches about it,” he summed, causing my heart to falter a bit. The fact that he knew my plight with my friends gutted me. He’d been exposed to ignorance and unkindness frequently.
“Yes, and I just don’t want to think about them with you inside meeeee,” I crooned to his increased rhythm. I made a mental note to take a Plan B –just in case– since we’d been so leisurely with ourselves.
“Okay,” he resigned, stroking harder, wilder, and shorter and causing me to lose my breath for the umpteenth time today. “Let me fuck you until you forget.”