18. Kenyon
18
Kenyon
“ W hat the fuck?” I snapped, staring at the rubber band that came across my face.
Nolan chuckled while the bills wisped through his fingers.
“ What the fuck is right. I’ve been calling you for the last five minutes,” Kross complained.
“Now you see how it feels talking to yo’ ass.”
“If you can’t handle meeting Javier, say it now. We don’t have time for any more shit.”
“I can’t handle it,” I mocked just to piss him off for throwing shit at me.
“Too fuckin’ bad,” Kross groaned.
“He’s too busy looking up,” Shaudi’s voice paused over my shoulder. “Floral arrangement classes. Nigga what?”
Nolan couldn’t help laughing out loud, while Kross’s was subtle.
“You need to schedule a class or two before Blaire replaces yo’ ass with a nigga who does.” My comment wiped the smile off Shaudi’s face.
“Nigga’s plan one date and think they can give advice,” Kross mocked.
“Since you’re such an expert, do something other than work and piss me off,” I fired back.
I had planned dates before, but they usually consisted of reservations at a fancy restaurant with a nice wine menu. Syd was simple which wasn’t a bad thing, it just made planning something for Zara harder. I didn’t know what she loved other than dancing and stealing shit out of my closet, so I started with the things I learned about her.
“More of an expert than you. What do you have planned so far?” Kross’s tone was filled with concern that made me comfortable answering.
“I thought about renting out a dance studio. Dinner. Or a picnic. Movies maybe. I don’t know.”
A half smile spread across his face as Kross grabbed a chair and sat down. He had that Eric Keyes look in his eye that usually accompanied a long-winded speech.
“She dances for a living. It’s thoughtful, but give her something different. Go with the class and plan a picnic. Anybody can make reservations but that shows effort and effort is what women want most. Consistency is next on the list, so don’t start shit you’re not going to keep,” Kross advised. “Considering this is new for you, don’t set the bar too high.”
“Damn Kross. That’s solid advice.” The shock in Shaudi’s voice had Nolan and me laughing. I knew that side of him, but Kross had become cold and stoic since Maliah, so others didn’t.
“I hope you took notes before Blaire gets sick of your shit,” Nolan replied.
“She just likes nagging, pissing me the fuck off,” Shaudi complained.
Kross shook his head, “No woman likes complaining. You’re just not listening, so she has to keep repeating herself.”
“Is the money ready? I need to head out soon.” I asked, checking the time on my watch. We’d discussed feelings more than we ever had in this space, and I needed a change of pace.
“Put your phone down and help,” Kross replied, pushing up on his feet.
I lent an extra set of hands, so I could meet Javier and take my ass home. Zara was frustrated with Megan for giving her so many day shifts, but I wasn’t complaining. Sleeping alone didn’t feel the same anymore.
Dropping the bags in the hidden compartment, I drove across town to the old Columbian restaurant. After a quick pat-down, I was escorted to the booth where Javier sat alone.
“Keyes,” he greeted without turning around, his voice smooth but carrying that edge of danger that came with dealing with someone like him.
“Javier.”
“How’s business going?”
“The product is moving like it should. Everything is there.”
He motioned me to have a seat across from him.
“?Cómo está nuestro amigo?”? *
I met his gaze without flinching. "No tenemos amigos en común? * ".
“Defensive,” Javier exaggerated a fake shiver, which caused me to clench my jaw. It always became a game of who could exert more control and intimidation, but that was the cost of doing business with Javier.
“I’m not here to play games,” I warned.
Javier stared me down before backing off with a satisfied nod.
“I don’t play games either. One of my other business partners had to learn that the hard way. They don’t make them like Eric and Leonne anymore,” he shook his head as if disappointed. “I would love for you and your brother to expand. I need more people I can trust who don’t play games.”
“We’ll get back to you.”
With that, I turned and walked out, leaving the tension heavy in the air. Kross and I would likely be on opposite ends of Javier’s offer. This is what he wanted, but as for me, I didn’t know what my future looked like, and that weighed on me during the drive home.
When I walked in the door, Zara was moving around the kitchen in another of my shirts, holding her phone.
“Did you eat something today?” she rattled off.
A deep sigh oozed through the speaker, and I recognized Brandy’s voice, “I don’t feel like eating.”
Pinning Zara between my body and the counter, inhaling her scent, soothed all the shit running through my head.
“So you’re going to waste away because Otto is in jail?” Zara sucked her teeth, annoyed that Brandy was taking it so hard.
“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” Brandy sulked.
My lips found Zara’s neck, and she’d even craned it to give me better access while fussing at Brandy. Finally, Zara paused her conversation and peered back at me.
“I want video evidence of you eating, or I’ll come over there and shove it down your throat myself. I’ll call you later,” Zara hung up and turned at the waist facing me. “What’s wrong?”
“I missed you all day.”
She smirked and tossed her arms around my neck, prompting me to lift her on the counter.
“Get used to it. I’m back on nights, so I’ll spend more time at home,” Zara explained, embracing my fingers in her curls.
“I’m not getting used to shit. I don’t like that plan.”
“You don’t like any plan that’s not yours.”
I didn’t know what Megan’s beef was, but it didn’t have shit to do with me. It didn’t seem to be based on merit anyway, just catty female bullshit. Zara told me not to get involved because she didn’t want a bigger target on her back at the club, but she deserved a ‘lil favoritism. She wasn’t like them and deserved to be treated differently. I told Zara I wouldn’t say anything to Megan, but she didn’t say Kross couldn’t.
“Now, how am I supposed to sleep without those cold ass toes on me?”
“I’m hanging with the girls tomorrow, too, so you’ll have to figure it out. Brandy isn’t doing well. Still,” Zara rolled her eyes, “I wish she would just forget about him.”
“Damn, so it would be fuck me if something happened?”
“No, because nothing is going to happen.”
“You’re starting to make a nigga feel like a piece of meat,” I joked, watching Zara unbutton my pants.
“Then feed me.”
That failed threesome seemed to do something to Zara. Before that, she was adamant about not fucking me. She'd stop me immediately whenever things got too hot, but now she couldn’t get enough.
I watched her slide off the counter to her knees, pulling my pants down. Her soft, sexy lips latched onto the head, allowing the shaft to slide down her throat. The suction made my knees buckle as my thumb stroked her cheek for encouragement. Swirling her tongue across the tip had me on a high that I needed after a long day.
Zara took offense to my muffled moans while my dick slid down her throat. Mischief was written all over her face as she sucked harder until I had no choice but to cum down her throat. The way Zara licked the lone drop on the side of her mouth had me eager to taste her, too.
“I can’t fuck this pretty pussy on an empty stomach.”
Lifting Zara to the counter, I pulled my shirt over her head, pleased that nothing was underneath it. The sight of her pussy so wet, ready, and perfect was an easy view to get lost in.
“If you run, I’ll chase you,” I warned, feeling her body tense as my lips nipped the inside of her thigh.
I slid my fingers inside, and she whimpered, “Please,” in the sexiest cadence I’d ever heard.
“You can do better than that. Please what, baby,” I nipped again, this time my thumb brushing against her moist nub.
“Please!” She begged, making my dick pulse so hard it hurt.
“Ah. Ah. Just because you’re whining doesn’t mean you get your way. Not today.” Her stomach grew bigger, humping and thrusting against my fingers, desperate for more.
“Use that mouth and tell me what you want.” Zara’s moans were sweet. She had me confessing feelings I usually delivered in tapered doses. “Tell me anything, Baby. I’ll do it for you. Whatever it is.”
My fingers stopped, forcing her to yell, “You! I-I want you, Kenyon!”
Her response was music to my ears, so I swapped my fingers with my tongue as a reward.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?”
She hummed something inaudible. “Let me hear you say it!”
“I’m,” she paused, to catch her breath with my tongue weaving between her folds. “I’m s-so beautiful.” She rushed out, gripping the back of my head for leverage.
“Damn right, you are. You taste just as good as you look, too.”
I came up for air, with her juices decorating my face so I could position Zara exactly where I wanted her. She was bent over the counter with one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip.
“Kenyon!” she whimpered as the head barely slipped inside. I turned her around, taking her neck between my teeth. “Baby!” she begged, her hands holding on to the counter for dear life.
I wound my hand in her hair, pulling her back with her mouth open like my dick was still inside it.
“I got you, Babygirl.” I pinched her clit, making her hips rock like she was on stage. “Breathe,” I demanded, the heat from my words made her body shudder but she listened, making me proud, “You’re taking it so well.”
It felt like the temperature in the kitchen had reached dangerous levels, watching the arch of Zara’s back.
“Fuck you feel so good, Babygirl.”
”Cum!” she paused, trying to catch her breath, “Cum with me, Baby! Please!”
The way Zara peered back like her life depended on me cumming for her. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her, and she knew it, dropping her chest to the counter and inviting me deeper.
“Oh my god, yes baby!” Zara yelled.
My dick tensed up, I tried to hold her in place, but Zara was focused on winding her hips to my stroke. Not being able to hold my nut back any longer, I released while she leaned against the counter, catching her breath.
I scooped her in my arms, and Zara locked her legs around my waist. “You did so good, Babygirl.”
A hot shower brought her back to life as we laid in bed but I could tell something was on her mind. I resisted the urge to fix it for her and waited until she was ready to share.
“I saw Sydney at Aire’s party.”
“Did y’all kiss and make up?” I asked.
She frowned and shoved my arm.
“Did you?”
“Nah, Syd isn’t fucking with me right now. I’ll holla at her soon.”
“Have fun.”
Zara was too proud to admit it, but she thought she was out of my league. Truth be told, I was out of hers.
"That lip’s gonna trip someone if you keep stickin' it out like that," I teased, leaning in a little closer.
She glared at me, but it wasn’t serious. It never was when she looked at me like that. I reached out, brushing my hand against her lip, barely touching it.
“You’re not funny.”
“So tell me about these other nigga’s you’ve been with so we’re even.”
“It’s a short history lesson, unlike yours. I broke up with my ex before moving here. He didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted something different.”
“That means he was nice and boring.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being nice. You’re nice to me,” Zara challenged.
“I’m a sucker for curls and big foreheads. What can I say?”
Zara shook her head while tucking her feet under my leg and flipping through the channels. I’d barely registered what was on the screen until I saw Sydney's face. My jaw tightened as I watched the interview unfold. Her father was doing what he always did. Manipulating the narrative, acting like he was the savior of whatever cause he had attached himself to, but Syd’s words froze me.
“The miscarriage... it changed everything for our family,” She glanced off-camera for a moment, gathering herself . “It showed me how fragile life can be. I’m not just a daughter standing behind a politician. I’m a woman who wants to see real change. I hope, through my story, we can push for policies that support reproductive health and rights in a meaningful way.”
This interview wasn’t just about her miscarriage. It was about the public image her father had crafted, an image that needed to be carefully maintained, especially with his political campaign in full swing.
“Was it yours?” she asked quietly, her brow furrowed, remote still in her hand.
The knot in my chest tightened until I could barely breathe, let alone answer her question. I hadn’t talked about it in so long. But here it was, back to that dark place like it had never gone away.
“Talk to me,” Zara insisted, turning the television off.
“It’s not much to say,” I started, then my voice cracked. “Syd got pregnant, and it wasn’t a thought to keep it or not. Not because we planned on some love child,” I felt the need to clarify, “I just never saw myself like I am with you, so it just felt right to keep it. Syd would be a good mom, and she knew I’d always be there for her.”
I shook my head, remembering the hope I’d held when Syd was rushed to the hospital. “But then Syd got in an accident, the car flipped, and she lost her. A little girl.”
The crazy part was I never thought I wanted kids until I lost one.
“Now she’s using her like some sympathy card to get her father elected like that shit is something to play with.”
The grit in my tone made Zara hesitate before she shifted closer and wrapped her arms around me. The warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her breathing anchored me.
“I’m so sorry, Kenyon,” she whispered, stroking my back in small, soothing circles.
Going any deeper with Zara was a risk, but she carried a type of peace I never knew I needed. Sydney was in her feelings about Zara, but she should’ve been praising her. She was the only thing keeping me from doing her father in the worst way right now.
* ? "How is our friend?"
* ? We don't have friends in common