Chapter 6 #2
She wrote the number on top of the form she had filled out.
“Alright, I’ll put that in the file.” Henrietta smiled.
“Okay, thank you so much.” Cali stood.
Irish followed suit and the two shook Henrietta’s hand. The woman then escorted Cali and Irish to the exit.
“God that was such an awful experience,” Irish admitted once they were outside.
“I know. There’s something eerie about planning someone’s ending.” Cali gave Irish a contemplative look. “What do you need?”
“I need a moment to cry.” Her words ceased as they headed toward the car where Zavier was waiting. “Damn, I’m so tired of crying.”
“It’s natural, Irish. You can cry as much as you want to. Let’s go to the beach where you can sit in front of the ocean waves and cry your heart out.”
Irish chuckled on the verge of another breakdown. “You're really going to sit next to me on the beach and watch me cry?”
“No, I’m going to stop and get me something to eat on the way, pig out, then join you to cry ‘cause as you know, my life has been some bullshit.”
Irish tittered. “You really are the best, Cali.”
She winked at her. “Oh, I already know. Let’s go.
One month later…
Noble: Open the door.
Irish wiped her hands on the towel then traveled out her bedroom and descended the stairs. With her townhouse being three levels, her room was on the third floor. She stopped at Ivory’s room, noticing her put on a pair of platform heels.
“Where you going?”
“Out with my friends from Miami.”
Irish’s brows rumpled. “You're driving there?”
“No, they're here to see me.” She grinned. “You know I’m such a light in people’s life.”
Playfully Irish rolled her eyes. “Girl, please. Be safe and don't do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
The two of them descended downstairs together, and Irish opened the front door.
Noble stood on the other side; his cologne greeted her before he could open his mouth.
All day, she’d been waiting to see him. Her days were filled with crying then yearning then back to crying again.
Noble’s presence always gave the soothing her heart needed.
His chocolate coating looked edible. With a fresh haircut and freshly lined beard, Irish felt the familiar tingle that hadn’t been present since Jovanis’ passing.
“I've missed you,” she cooed, and he pulled her into his body. His arms felt the safest.
She pulled back, kissing his lips with passion.
“Y’all are disgusting.” Ivory faked gagged. “I’ll be back later.”
“Oh, you can't speak,” Noble teased.
She smirked at him while walking out the door. “Hi, Noble. Bye, Noble.”
“Don't be drinking and driving!” Irish yelled out to her.
Ivory put her thumb up and got inside her car. Noble closed the door with Irish still nestled in his arms.
“You had a good day?”
The invisible balloon seemed to pop and her sadness surfaced. It was never too far away. Only hiding in the shadows, making Irish believe that she was getting better.
“I’m trying,” she answered honestly.
Noble kissed her lips. “That’s all I need. As long as you're trying, then you’ll be good…” He studied her for a moment. “Something on your mind, huh?”
Smiling, Irish hated how observant this man was.
She couldn’t get anything past him, not even a crying spell.
The ups and downs of grief had been exhausting.
Each time Irish attempted to have a good day, a memory or a scent placed her back in the dark hole she’d taken so much time to crawl out of.
Noble released her and walked into the kitchen.
Opening the microwave, he smiled as he pulled his plate out.
“I ain't wanna ask if you were cooking but damn, I’m glad to see a plate.”
She smirked at him as he took the foil off. Ivory had been begging for a homecooked meal, so Irish whipped up some shrimp and grits along with fried catfish.
“I figured you would be hungry.” She leaned against the counter. “I tried to eat some but baby didn’t like it. I threw it up.”
Now at four months, Irish had started experiencing a little bit of sickness. It could’ve been the baby or it could’ve been her grief. She wasn’t sure.
“How you feel now?” Noble asked before drenching his fish in hot sauce.
“Okay.”
Irish watched him take a big bite before spooning the grits. Feeding her man had to be her love language. Whenever she was in the mood to cook, Noble devoured her food like she was a five-star chef. Her new favorite thing to do was watch him eat.
His dark gaze landed on her. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”
“I have.”
“You thinking about him?”
She stalled for a moment… “I think now, I’m crying at the possibility of the person who killed him not being held responsible. The police have no leads and I don't know.” She rubbed her eyes. “I don't want whoever killed him to get away with it.”
“They won’t,” Noble assured, still chewing. “Shit takes time, Pumpkin. But I swear I’m going to find out who shot at you.”
Irish believed him but the patience it required had worn her thin.
“What else is on your mind?”
“Cali’s leaving this week, and I’m so sad about it. She’s been another rock for me at this time and I feel like I’m losing another person that I love.”
Noble smirked at her, his eyes were low and glazed over. “She’s only moving out of town. You act like she’s leaving forever.”
“Papa, let me be dramatic in peace, please,” Irish joked. “If I can’t pull up on her, then that means she’s leaving me.”
“I respect it.” He nodded. “I don't get it, completely, but I do respect your feelings about it.”
Cali had spent every day with Irish, making her grieving process a tad more bearable.
Irish saw this day coming, she just opted not to think about it, but now the time had come.
Cali was on her way to a fresh start. Irish was excited for her but also saddened that some distance would be placed between them.
“Then, there’s something else,” she revealed.
“What?”
Irish pushed out a weighty breath, not believing what she was going to say.
“I think my passion has died for my clothing company. Ivory has been basically running it for me, and I feel so bad that I haven’t put in any input. I don't even have the desire to design any collections. I’m thinking about shutting it down.”
Irish felt like a failure but couldn’t admit it out loud.
How could her passion that once burned like a forest fire be gone without a trace?
Once upon a time, designing had been her life.
The feeling of new clothes generated inspiration that she could hardly contain.
These days, Irish didn’t care about her company.
She let Ivory run it without ever giving any contribution.
It was a sad reality that she never thought would happen.
Noble pushed his now cleaned plate away. “Come here.”
Irish ambled over to him and sat sideways on his lap. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Noble blessed her with a sweet kiss on her neck.
“Listen, I want you to slow down and think about what you're going through. You're grieving, so your thoughts aren’t really clear right now. You got a lot of brain fog and being pregnant isn’t making it any better. When you come out of this, meaning when you accept Jovanis’ death, then I think your passion will come back.
You going through some tough shit so, no, I don't think you should shut down your company. I actually think you should force yourself to design so you can take your mind off of everything.”
Irish’s days were nothing but a long episode of grief on replay.
When Cali was around, she’d try to cheer her up by getting her out the house.
When Noble was present, Irish presented herself as someone who was on their healing journey.
Truth was, she hadn’t even arrived at the avenue to start mending her broken heart.
“I know you're tired of me being down. I swear, I’m trying to get my mind right but—”
“Aye.” His voice was so authoritative that she had no choice but to silence her words.
“I’m not tired of anything. I want you to get better but I want it to happen naturally.
I’m not no selfish-ass man that I think you should get over Jovanis’ death quickly.
I know how much he meant to you so take your time but be mindful that you carrying my lil’ baby. ”
Irish smiled at the reminder. Her little nugget was progressing well, giving Irish more hope that this baby would come full term.
“I love you,” she cooed before kissing his lips. “What would I do without you?”
Noble deepened the kiss as his big hands roamed down to her hips. It had been a drought on Love Island for them. Irish hadn’t been in a sexual mood. Grief had stolen every part of her life, robbing her of activities she once enjoyed. Noble had been patient, not even making a move to have sex.
Irish recognized Noble’s fervent need for her. For tonight, she would push her grief to the side and meet his needs.
“Papa, do you need me?” she asked as his tongue explored her neck.
“Like a mothafucka.”
She smirked and lowered herself to her knees. Unbuckling his belt, she pulled out his manhood that was so hard, she thought it would break.
Kissing the tip, she teased, “What should I do with this?”
“Swallow it.”
The heavy lust dancing in his orbs heightened her arousal. Swiftly, Irish wrapped her lips around his erection and allowed the head to greet the back of her throat.
“Fuck,” he whispered, leaning back in his seat. With her hand at the base of his shaft, Irish sucked on him, making sure her mouth was drenched in saliva. This was one of her favorite hobbies. Bringing a man of Noble’s stature to his knees was pleasurable alone.
She tasted the early presence of his cum on her tongue. Glancing up, Noble’s eyes were closed as she picked up speed. Flattening her tongue against the base of his dick, prompted him to squirm.
“Fuck, Pumpkin, you ‘bout to make me bust,” he groaned, gripping her ginger tresses.
The sounds of her slurping filled the atmosphere. She felt Noble’s muscles tense and before she could get one more deep throat, she tasted the unique flavor of his fruits.
“Shit, Pumpkin…” he grumbled. “Swallow that shit.”
Irish would have been a fool not to. She swallowed then kissed the tip of his dick before mounting it. Noble didn’t have any time to recover.
“Mmm,” she moaned as his erection stretched her pussy. “I’ve missed this dick so much.”
Noble’s hand found her neck and pulled her forward, “Don't go crazy on the dick, Pumpkin.”
She grinned while slowly sliding up and down on his erection. Closing her eyes, she fell into something she hadn’t experienced in over a month—bliss. The pinching of her nipples propelled her head backwards. Noble planted his hands on her waist, helping her bounce up and down on his dick.
“If you wasn’t pregnant, you damn sure would be tonight,” he declared.
Irish bit her bottom lip, falling deeper into ecstasy. Grief had truly taken over, making her forget how Noble’s dick was her drug. Her addiction had been reactivated. The need she’d had for him would resume.
“This dick is the best, Papa.”
Irish’s eyes flew open when Noble turned her around. She was bent over on the counter as he pushed inside of her from the back. He dived into her ocean with such great rhythm that Irish’s mouth went slack. She was so wet that the sounds mixed in with the meeting of their skin.
“You know you deserve this dick, right?” Noble slapped her ass.
“Yes, I deserve it,” she cried out.
He slapped her ass again. The pleasurable pumps had driven her to the brink of insanity.
“This pregnant pussy got me so gone, baby,” he confessed. “You can get whatever the fuck you want.”
Irish threw her ass back, meeting his powerful strokes. Sex with Noble had to be one of the remedies to get over grief. Not once had she thought about Jovanis’ killing. The waves of sadness had been replaced with ripples of rapture.
“Baby, yes, like that. I’m about to cum.”
Noble pounded her so hard that her orgasm arrived sooner than expected. Her upper body fell against the counter as her walls drummed to a rhythm that only Noble could produce.
“Ooooh fuck… hold on,” she begged.
Noble did anything but wait for her to ride her wave of climax. He pumped faster and with so much vigor that she lost her grip on the counter. Irish felt crazy. Her head spun; her eyes possessed floaters in them. Her pussy hadn’t stopped thumping yet.
“Baby, I can’t take it.”
The pleasure had ascended her to heights that made her feel like she was floating. Noble had been relentless, not giving her a moment to catch her breath. Irish needed this though. His dick had power; it could cure her bad mood with one thrust.
“Damn,” he grunted.
His manhood pulsated inside her, filling her with his nut. The skin slapping had been replaced with heavy grunts. Noble pulled out and fell back into the seat. Irish turned around, laughing at the spent expression on his face.
“That pumpkin spice put me down.”
She laughed harder, feeling his remnants drip from her center.
“Come on, Papa. Let’s go shower and make up for lost time.”
Irish took him to her master bathroom so they could continue their lovemaking.