Chapter 6
Ashlynn
Ilifted the bag of marshmallows off the table beside me, grabbed a handful, and carefully stuffed four into my mouth. Once arranged to the perfect position, I added another. And another.
“Dream?”
I jumped, turning my entire body around in the chair. “Hmm?”
Raphael’s eyes widened at the sight of my mouth partially open, and cheeks puffed out. Shaking his head, he laughed as he placed down a tray laden with our favorite snacks. “What the hell are you doing?”
I took a deep breath, and said, “Remember the show that came on when we were kids? The one where one person puts marshmallows in their mouth and their teammate guesses the phrase?” The words were a garbled mess that resembled the sounds made by the adults from Charlie Brown, but I was fairly certain he understood me. Until his brows dipped and he scrunched up his handsome face, illuminated by the soft glow of the fire he’d lit to ward off the brisk temperatures of the mid-March night and hundreds of fairy lights he’d strung up in the tree.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I waved a dismissive hand, chewing the marshmallows and swallowing. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Nah, that ain’t look like nothing, and it’s too late not to worry. What were you doing?”
Sighing, I tucked my legs under my body and pulled the blanket tighter. “I thought about the TV game show where the kids have different challenges they have to complete, and one of them was putting as many marshmallows in their mouth as they could, and trying to say a word while their teammates guessed it. I can’t think of the name of it, but when I was younger, I always wanted to go on it.” I took a sip of the tea he’d prepared.
“So, you saw a bag of marshmallows, unlocked a hidden childhood memory, and allowed your intrusive thoughts to win?” I nodded, and Raphael chuckled, sitting in the chair next to me. “That sounds like something you’d do.”
“You know me so well.”
A companionable silence fell between us.
We were seated in the backyard of the vacation rental Raphael booked for us in Ellington, Maryland—less than three hours from D.C.—taking turns hitting a jay, while listening to a Lo-Fi RB playlist Raphael put together. A few feet from where we sat was one of those huge outdoor garden igloos decorated for a night under the stars. It had been over a month since Raphael showed up at my office with a proposal for us to work together. Profession-wise, it couldn’t be better. Time was moving quickly, and four-twenty was coming at us like a runaway train. Over the last few weeks, I’d been running around like a chicken with my head chopped off, preparing for this year’s harvest while assisting in other areas of the family business, and the stress of it all wasn’t helping me or my rheumatoid arthritis. Thankfully, I hadn’t experienced any severe flare-ups, but the overwhelming fatigue, the swelling of different parts of my body like my ankles, feet, and fingers, the constant pain, and the overall feeling of heaviness had made doing even the most mundane of tasks difficult. Raphael, on the other hand, was busy with Weed the People while also looking to expand Dream Escape’s distribution market by selling his products in dispensaries outside of the Washington metropolitan area. He’d been traveling and meeting with owners to accomplish his goal. Despite our commitment to our careers, Raphael and I made sure to spend as much time together as possible.
There was no hiding us. Granted, we weren’t tonguing each other down while in public, but on the rare occasions we were out and happened to see someone who knew us, we didn’t shy away from interacting, something we would’ve done in the past. Although there would be questioning stares, no one came outright and asked why we were together, and if they did, we would tell them the truth. We were friends. Raphael and I had yet to define our relationship in terms of being a couple. We were relearning each other after being apart for five years. No one thought it was weird for us to be together since our families were so close.
Yet, intimately, the relationship between Raphael and I felt like it was … dragging, for a lack of better word. When I said I wanted to take things slowly, I didn’t think it would go like this—weeks of us seeing one another without Raphael making a move. We hadn’t even kissed, outside of on the cheek, and those syrupy-sweet kisses he placed on my forehead or temple. A part of me wondered if something was wrong. If Raphael was having second thoughts about us being together. However, before I could get the courage to ask him, he surprised me by planning this weekend getaway for us.
“What are you thinking about?”
I opened my mouth, ready to answer him with a lie, but thought better of it. “Us.”
“What about us?” Raphael picked up a bag of chips and opened them.
It’s now or never.
But before I could respond, the ringing of his phone sliced through the air. Raphael fished it out of his pocket, and chuckled. “It’s your boy.”
He didn’t have to elaborate; I already knew the identity of the caller. “Gimme. Gimme. Gimme.”
Sliding his thumb across the screen, Raphael handed me the phone as it connected the video call.
I peered into the screen, watching MJ speak to someone in his background. When he finally turned around, his eyes bulged. “Wait a damn minute. I know that ain’t who I think it is. Ashlynn? Why are you answering a bum’s phone?”
Raphael leaned over, shooting daggers at MJ. “Don’t get fucked up, bruh.”
MJ laughed. “See, Ashlynn, this is why you should’ve given me a chance. At least I’m not an angry muthafucka who wakes up and chooses violence ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“I only choose violence when it’s warranted. Now, if that’s ninety-nine percent of the time, then it ain’t my fault.”
“This is why yo’ ass ‘The Devil’,” MJ said, pointing at Raphael.
I just shook my head. I wouldn’t say I liked the nickname MJ gave Raphael, but I understood where it came from. MJ, who was known for the parties he threw, referred to his friends with names all related to dice. He’d stopped Raphael from beating the hell out of a former basketball rival outside of one of his parties. MJ swore he saw The Devil in Raphael’s eyes, and honestly, I believed him. Back then, Raphael had been an angry sonofabitch, living life like he had nothing else to lose since he’d suffered a career-ending injury and we’d broken up.
But I’d also heard MJ say that The Devil in a deck of tarot cards has several meanings and it was up to Raphael to decide whether he would appear upright, which could signify feeling trapped, fear, and helpless from external situations, or inverted to show how he broke free of the chains holding him back. Regardless of what it meant, if MJ hadn’t stepped in, seen something underneath the anger Raphael allowed to fester deep within him, and then given him ways to redirect it while helping him to discover alternative methods to deal with his pain, who knows where Raphael would’ve been?
“I never claimed to be anything else.” Raphael shrugged, and I rolled my eyes. “What’s up, tho? Everything good?”
“Yeah, man. Everything is everything. You know how busy this shit gets when you’re a boss building your empire.”
“Nah, man. You over there booked, busy, and full. I’m over here trying to add more stuff to my plate, so I won’t be hungry.”
MJ shot Raphael with a look of disbelief. “Bruh, according to what I’ve been hearing, you’re doing a damn good job. How is the infusion going?”
“We don’t know yet,” Raphael replied.
I leaned in so MJ could see me. “As much as I want to test a batch, Raphael won’t let me.”
“Yeah, because you said you think we should let it sit for eight weeks undisturbed.”
“I know. Now, I’m starting to regret the wait, but if the twenty-four-hour infusion I did using the ‘teabag’ method produced an infused bottle that had us feeling nice, I can only believe the barrels will infuse.”
“I used to ‘teabag’ jungle juice for the parties I threw back in college. People would be fucked up. Shit was hilarious. So, I know putting pounds of weed in those barrels is going to produce a good result. Either way, send me some bottles, with and without alcohol. I’m trying to see something.”
When Raphael mentioned creating a cannabis-infused wine, I did my research, and found different methods people used, including what’s referred to as the ‘teabag’ method where you took marijuana that had been decarbed, finely ground the buds, placed it in a cheesecloth, and placed it into the wine bottle, making sure the pouch containing the weed was fully submerged. I refrigerated the wine for twenty-four hours, gently shaking the bottle every couple of hours to get a better extraction. Once the time was up, I drained the cheesecloth back into the bottle, not wanting to waste a single drop, then Raphael and I shared it while watching the first three Transformers movies.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I told him.
“As a matter of fact, Ashlynn, you can deliver those bottles yourself. Just make sure you bring your girls with you, especially your girl.” He glanced at Raphael, then back to me, and I bust out laughing.
Last year, for Dina’s birthday, we, along with four of our girls, went to Vegas where I introduced her to MJ. He took care of us by getting us into different shows, helping us book excursions since everybody who was anybody knew him, and hooking us up with VIP in clubs around the city and at his cannabis club, Blunt Minded Joint. Sometime during the weekend, he and Dina hooked up. Despite my prior relationship with Raphael, I never mentioned it to him, and didn’t plan to do so tonight.
“With me being home, I’m sure we can make that happen. A time was had in Vegas.”
MJ winked. “You know me, I aim to please.”
Raphael groaned, frowning. “Aye, muthafucka, you can chill with all that. I know the only reason you want them to come back is to fuck on my lil sister. You ain’t slick.”
My head whipped around so fast I heard it crack. “You know?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know. I told you, your best friend can’t hold water.”
I shook my head, laughing as I stood. “Damn shame.”
“Hold on, MJ.” Raphael’s brows dipped in confusion as he looked at me. “Where you going?”
“In the house for a split second. I’ll be back.”
Not waiting for a response, I headed through the back door. Something I learned about the dynamic MJ and Raphael had was it was very much a mentor/mentee friendship. If Raphael had questions or concerns about anything, he would call MJ because he trusted his opinion. While I knew neither cared if I was sitting there, I didn’t want to infringe on their conversation. Besides, I needed to freshen up. I was tired of twiddling my thumbs waiting for Raphael to make a move. He brought me to a secluded location for a weekend, then offered me a separate bedroom.
I knew what he was doing.
By giving me the space I needed, Raphael was allowing me to decide where things went with us, to set the pace. His attentiveness to my desire to take things slow was admirable, but a bitch was horny. I wanted my legs spread from east to west, and my pussy licked from the front to the top of my ass crack and back again. And tonight I was going to get what I wanted.
I made my way back outside, smiling as I sat down in the chair next to Raphael.
He glanced over, raising a questioning eyebrow. “You good?”
I noticed he was no longer on the phone, and wondered why, but didn’t ask. “Mmm-hmm. Why?”
Raphael turned until his knee brushed mine. The innocent touch sent a jolt of awareness zipping through me. I pressed my lips together, fighting back a moan. “Just trying to figure out why you left, like I needed privacy to talk to MJ.”
“I had to go to the bathroom, Raphael.”
He chuckled without humor. “Okay. Now, before MJ called you said you were thinking about us. What about us?”
I sighed, suddenly feeling the awkwardness surrounding us. I wasn’t one to beat around the bush or mince my words, especially not with Raphael. We’d built up a rapport to where we could talk to each other about anything. Yet here I was afraid to ask him about his feelings for me or tell him I wanted some dick.
Raphael took me by the wrist. “Come here.”
I stood, grabbing the blanket I had wrapped around me, and walked over to Raphael. “What?”
“Sit down, Dream.”
“Excuse you?”
I folded my arms over my breasts, hoping to hide the treacherous way my body responded to Raphael. I hated how weak I was when he spoke with such authority. It was in the way he said my name with an undertone of warning mixed with a hint of danger. As if I knew better than to defy him. My nipples strained against the cotton of the T-shirt I was wearing. Butterflies, fireflies, dragonflies, and every other flying creature swarmed in the pit of my belly.
“You heard me. Sit down.”
I huffed an impatient breath. “Sit where, Raphe? At your feet? In the fire? I was sitting in my chair until you called me over here.”
For several long minutes, we stared at one another. Neither of us uttering a single word. We were in a standoff. The corner of his lips curled into a smile, and damn if he didn’t look good as fuck. Raphael sat back. “The second-best place for you to sit … on my lap.”
Choosing not to move, I said, “I’m not upset.”
The expression on his face said it all. He didn’t believe me, and rightfully so. He wanted to talk, and I wanted to fuck. At this point, we were two ships in the night sailing in the opposite directions.
Raphael patted his lap. “C’mon, Dream. Tell Daddy what’s wrong?”
Despite the incessant throbbing between my legs, I rolled my eyes. “Can you be serious for once?”
“What’s makes you think I’m not?” He leaned forward, reaching around me to pick up the package of Backwoods off the table, opened it, then dipped it into a cup of water to clean off the rolling paper. “Since you don’t wanna sit, Imma roll this blunt while you talk.”
“Fine.” I huffed. “What are we, Raphael?”
He reared his head back but didn’t stop what he was doing. “Whatcha mean?”
I smacked my teeth. “What are we doing?” Raphael opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand. “And no, I’m not talking about right now. I mean if you had to define us, how would you?”
“Easy, we’re us. Former lovers who never got over the other, and although all signs point to us getting back together, we’re trying to do things right by not jumping into a relationship or making rash decisions.”
“Right.”
“So, why are you mad?”
“Because in the month since we been working together, you haven’t tried to fuck me. You barely make sexual innuendos. We haven’t kissed?—”
“I kiss you all the time,” he interrupted.
“But not on the lips.”
Raphael tilted his head to the side. “Lemme get this straight. You’re mad because I’ve been following your cues, and taking things slow?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but snapped it shut because the way he worded it made my beef with him sound dumb as hell. He was right. I did say I didn’t want to fall back into the friend-fuck-fail cycle that had become us.
He leaned forward and peered up at me. “You think I don’t know what you want? What you need? As if the five years of us being apart could somehow sever the hold you have on me. Maybe you thought our bond—our love—would weaken with time and distance. Or …” the seriousness he displayed beforehand dissipated with the one word, yet his expression remained stoic, “did you think I would somehow lose the ability to read you and your body?” Raphael chuckled, but it lacked warmth. “Trust me, Dream, I know. I hear when your breath hitches whenever we’re close. I feel the rapid beating of your heart when I hold you. I see how your eyelashes flutter and the haze of desire in your eyes.” He leaned forward, burying his nose at the apex of my thighs. “I can even smell your arousal for me.”
The moan I’d tried to suppress earlier bubbled from my throat, out of my mouth, and into the cold, March air. “Raphe.”
“Come sit down, princess.” He patted his lap. This time, I took a step forward, about to straddle him, but he held up hand. “Nah, not like that. Turn around.”
Sitting down, I leaned back, burying my nose in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, filling my nose with his powerfully masculine scent. My mouth watered to taste the skin there.
Placing his hand on my chin, Raphael tilted my head until our lips were inches apart. “Don’t ever question whether I want you or not because I crave you, Dream. You are the sustenance that nourishes my withered bones, feeds my depleted mind, and pieces together my broken soul. You are the light that guides me through the darkness threatening to consume me.” His lips met mine in a soft, slow, drugging kiss that melted my insides and would’ve caused my knees to buckle had I not been sitting. Before I could truly savor the feel of our mouths meshed together, Raphael pulled back, wearing a smirk. “Now that we’ve gotten that outta the way, break down this weed for me.”
“Bruh.” I released an impatient breath, leaning toward the table to pick up the bag holding his marijuana in it, and took out several buds, crumbling them into tiny pieces before spreading it over the rolling paper. I picked up the makings of the jay, ready to hand it to him, but Raphael shook his head.
“Hold it.” He wrapped his arm around my midsection, pulling me back against him. The hand on my stomach moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of the shorts I’d changed into after my shower.
“Raphe? What— oooooh,” I moaned as he swept a finger over my slickened folds and found my clit, circling it with the pad of his index finger. My head dropped onto his shoulder. “Fuck.”
Raphael chuckled, pulling my earlobe between his teeth. He bit it gently. “You remember how to roll?”
Rolling my hips, I nodded. “It’s like riding dick. No matter how long it’s been, you never really forget how.”
“That’s right, pretty baby.” Gathering more of my juices on his index and middle fingers, he removed his hand, and dragged them along the edge of the Backwoods. Seconds later, Raphael’s hand circled my clit.
I brought the sides together, then raised it to my mouth to lick, but Raphael stopped me. “Nah, sweetheart.” He smeared more of my juices over the blunt and replaced his hand down my shorts, gliding one finger then a second inside of me.
“Shit, Raphe,” I gasped, my eyes fluttering closed.
“Focus, Dream.” Raphael slowly moved his fingers in and out of me while trailing the tip of his tongue from the shell of my ear, down my neck, to my pulse point, alternating between kissing, licking, and nibbling the sensitive skin. “You can’t cum until you finish.”
My eyes popped open. “What?”
“You heard me, sweetheart.” He brushed the heel of his palm to my clit, causing my entire body to tremble. I was close; there was no denying the sweetest of agony threatening to incinerate me.
I pinched the jay tightly, then smoothed the rolling paper over the weed to create the blunt.
“That’s it, baby. Do it just like I taught you.”
I’d just sealed it and was about to lift it so Raphael could assess my work when a powerful orgasm washed over me, hitting me with enough strength to knock the air from my lungs and render me speechless. I slumped against him. Minutes later, as the aftershocks subsided, my pulse returned to a normal pace, and I could breathe again. I handed him the blunt.
Raphael removed his hand from my shorts and lifted it to his lips, licking my juices off his fingers. “You taste sweeter than I remember.” His eyes darkened with a possessive glint that caused goosebumps to form over the exposed areas of my skin. I should’ve been afraid. It was a look I’d seen one too many times before, one that spoke volumes despite no words having been said. I belonged to him, and oddly, I didn’t mind. I thought he would stake his claim, but instead, Raphael took the jay and smiled. “Let’s spark it up.”