16. Kenyon
16
Kenyon
D riving to the hotel, my mind drifted back to Zara and everything she said at the bowling alley. Every time I thought we were making progress, she’d move the damn goalpost. One minute, it felt like we were finally getting somewhere and having real conversations just for her to say it wasn’t enough.
My brain told me to stop chasing after something that wouldn’t happen. God knows, there were plenty of reasons to let it go.
But I couldn’t.
Every time I told myself to forget about her, that I was done with the back-and-forth, something pulled me back in. It didn’t matter how hard she pushed or how many times she threw up those barriers. There was something about her, something I couldn’t shake, even if I wanted to.
And, right now, I wanted to. Sydney’s so-called surprise tonight was another distraction, especially after discovering that John was behind Miyan’s traffic stop. His ambitions were becoming a pain, creating more problems I didn’t need.
I walked through the lobby, pushing Zara’s wishy-washy behind to the back of my mind.
“Wassup?” I laughed at the giddy ass smile on Sydney’s face as she opened the door.
She grabbed my wrist, pulling me inside. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Why are you so turnt right now?” I asked, turning the corner, and the sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
Zara sat on the sofa in a black lace outfit, leaving nothing to my imagination, or Sydney’s, for that matter. The woman I told myself I didn’t care about anymore was standing in front of me like some twisted joke. Like the universe was throwing her in my face, daring me to pretend I didn’t give a damn.
“Surprise!” Sydney stood beside her, eyes glinting with mischief, a smug smile like she’d pulled off the ultimate trick. I had dreamed of having Zara more times than I would admit, but not like this. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes because she knew she had no business here.
“Get up!” I barked, sucking all the positive energy out of the room.
“What’s wrong, Keyes?” Sydney asked, trying to piece together my anger.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I closed the distance between us, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside to the patio.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
She smacked her lips, staring over the balcony to avoid looking me in the eye.
“You don’t hear me talking to you now?” I asked, tapping her forehead. She immediately swatted my hand down, “If yo’ ass can’t answer a simple question, you ain’t got no business being here. You need to leave. Now!” I grabbed her arm, prepared to drag her inside the same way she got out here, but Zara yanked away.
“You’re here! You get the freaky fantasy you wanted, so what’s the problem?”
“I don’t give a fuck if Jesus himself is here. What does that have to do with you ?”
Confusion riddled Zara’s face because she believed I wanted what all men wanted.
“I’m not arguing about it, Kenyon. I’m here, so deal with it or don’t ,” Zara tried to walk around me like the conversation was over.
“You popped all that shit about not wanting her, and now you’re here! What the fuck is this, huh? What changed?”
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” She yelled, trying to pull away, but I wouldn’t let her, “I need the fuckin’ money, okay!”
“You’re packing out Utopia every fuckin’ night. Miss me with that you need the money shit.”
“Don’t be so fuckin’ dense! Some people have more problems than they do money, Kenyon! Why the hell do you think?” Zara yelled, turning her shoulders to hide the tears in her eyes.
“Then why didn’t you call me?” I yelled arms outstretched at the obvious solution.
Zara turned around slowly, her eyes hooded like hawks. “It’s my problem. Why the hell would I call you ?”
I hated feelings because they ran rampant with no logic or reason. Just doing what the fuck they wanted to, like standing in front of Zara, pissed off that I was about to have a threesome. All because she was compromising herself by doing something she didn’t want to do.
Or maybe she did want to. I couldn’t be sure because there were still so many things I didn’t know about Zara.
“Time is money, and you have a job to do, right?”
Zara shoved me in the chest, “Fuck you, Keyes !” and continued back inside.
“Careful what you wish for,” I mumbled, following her.
The door opening caused Sydney to perk up, and her eyes darted to Zara. “Is everything okay?”
“Great, I just need a minute. Where’s the bar?” Zara asked.
“Right over there. Help yourself, tabs on him,” Sydney joked, awkwardly smiling.
“Oh really?” Zara popped the top and poured the liquor down the sink while glaring at me. “Might just waste it all.”
“Keep it up, and I’ll take that shit out of your pay,” I warned.
Zara flipped her middle finger and poured herself a drink while Sydney pulled me in the opposite direction, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
“What the fuck, Keyes! Are you trying to make her leave?” Sydney complained.
“No.”
“Then what was that?” She tossed her hand toward the door, frustrated, because if anyone knew how badly she wanted Zara, it was me.
“I don’t know.”
Sydney watched me crack my knuckles before announcing, “I’ll check on Nova and get you a drink to take the edge off.”
It would take more than alcohol to do it, but Sydney returned with a half-filled glass of brown liquor anyway. I told her to get started without me, and she wasted no time prancing back out of the room. Syd wasn’t here for me anyway.
After a mental self-talk, I pulled myself together. If this is what Zara wanted to do, then fuck it. I strolled to the living area in briefs, gripping the rim of the glass with plans of enjoying my night.
“Just in time for the show,” Sydney announced, her smile wide and welcoming.
I did my best to seem indifferent, watching Zara on Sydney’s lap, trying to look relaxed.
And failing miserably at it.
Normally, she owned any room she walked into, especially when she was dancing. But tonight, she was slipping. Sydney was oblivious, though, or maybe she ignored it, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder.
This was supposed to be fun, an adventure, but all I felt was anger and jealousy watching Sydney grope her breasts. The way Zara cowered let me know she had never done this before. I respected her ambition and hustle, but Zara was out of her league.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Sydney complimented, but it didn’t make her blush or stammer over her words like mine.
I was still recovering from sharing her with Romello. Now, I had to watch Syd slip her tongue into Zara’s mouth. The view had my hands clenched at my side.
Syd came up for air long enough to ask, “You’ve been quiet. Are you participating tonight?”
“Enjoying the show,” I lied.
In reality, my pulse quickened, fighting the urge to yank Zara off Syd’s lap, but I held back because I needed Zara to understand. If she thought she could mess with me, I’d show her exactly what it felt like to be messed with.
“Perfect nipples.” Syd complimented, rolling it between her lips before easing her way down. “Your perfect pussy too. She’s so pretty.”
Sydney glanced at me, a question in her eyes, and I nodded, giving her permission to continue.
“Tell me how it tastes,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
Sydney leaned back with a smug grin, happy to oblige because she didn’t see what I saw. She didn’t notice the way Zara’s gaze kept flickering toward me. I had never wanted to keep someone all to myself like I did with Zara.
I moved closer, not touching Zara, but close enough that she had no choice but to acknowledge me. Her breath hitched slightly, her eyes darting to mine as I stayed low, looking up at her.
“Go on. Tell me how it feels,” I encouraged.
Zara didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. She was cracking as Sydney spread her legs.
I smiled reassuringly. “Relax, Syd’s good at her job.”
The room quickly filled with soft breaths and quiet moans that made my dick hard. Initially, Zara’s face was conflicted. Likely because her body reacted in a way she wasn’t sure aligned with her heart and mind.
“Hmmm!” Syd moaned, sliding her finger inside before tasting it. “Hmm, it’s so sweet.”
I could hear the soft, almost imperceptible sighs and murmurs of pleasure. The tremor in my hand intensified as Zara struggled to catch her breath.
Finally, I leaned in, my lips barely brushing against Zara’s ear as I whispered, “You like it?”
She couldn’t answer because she was too busy torturing herself like she didn’t hold the power to put us both out of our misery.
“Fuck, you taste as good as you look,” Syd praised, cupping Zara’s breast with her free hand.
The sounds of Sydney devouring her pussy continued. Each gentle smack and soft moan felt like a dagger, both beautiful and painful. I wanted to say something to end it, but I choked on my pride. Zara wanted to do big girl shit, so I had to let her see it through to learn that compromising herself was a steep price.
My jaw clenched because the sight had become unbearable. Zara was uncomfortable, and I couldn’t do nothing. I took a deep breath and tossed the rest of my drink back.
My role suddenly switched from participant to protector.