Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dice
Killin’ me slowly.
Ipull into Docks, located right on the water, a prime location. It’s just past six. The sun has dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of purple and orange that shimmer off the lake. Words can’t do it justice. Bayside sunsets are what postcards dream of.
I pop the trunk, grab the record case trolley, and wheel it through the side entrance to the booth. Benny throws me a two-finger salute from behind the bar.
Fridays don’t get jumping till later, but I like setting up early.
Adjusting the levels. Laying out the flow.
I’m going to kick off the party with Parliament’s “Tear the Roof Off the Sucker.” Slip in some En Vogue too.
The OG version of Destiny’s Child, one of Lot’s faves.
I usually ride alone in the booth, but tonight she’s gonna be sitting shotgun.
I squat down and unlock the case, then grab the opening set, stacking the records in order.
“Was about to file a missing person’s report.” C’s voice steals my attention.
I straighten as he strolls into the booth. His café, just down the boardwalk, is closed for the night.
“You change coffee shops on me or what?” he asks.
“Naw. Just been busy.” We slap hands in our custom shake.
“So busy you skipped your Black Eye for a whole week?”
“Didn’t realize you were trackin’ my caffeine schedule.”
“Just curious. Haven’t seen Lot either. She the one makin’ you coffee?”
“More like the other way around.”
“Shit! I knew it.” He pumps a victory fist. “I’m about to win that grail.”
“What grail?”
“The bet,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb. “Told you a woman was gonna domesticate your wild ass. You said, ‘never,’ like it was gospel. Then put up Uncanny X-Men #118. 1979. Mint condition. Soon-to-be mine.”
“You trippin’. I’m still single and free. Ain’t nobody domesticating nothin’.”
C grins like he’s all-knowing. My boy’s always been the grounded one. Raised his little sister. Gave up his music dreams to pay the bills. Solid. A real one. Six-three, husky, afro like a crown, and nothing but green flags. The relationship type.
But me? I know how to get in and out of a woman’s arms. Sweet talk. Clean exits.
With Lot, though, I’m handing out keys and asking her to stay. Cat on my couch. Her toothbrush on my bathroom counter. Clothes spilling out of her overnight bag, exploding onto my dresser. Body butter all up in my sheets. In my nose. In my head.
Still… doesn’t mean I’m locking it down. She’s got her life in New York. I’ve got mine here.
“Me and Lot,” I say, “we’re just back doin’ our thing with a little extra somethin’.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“If you need a label, sure.”
“Sounds like a recipe for building feelings,” he warns.
“Feelings have always been there. But we know what’s up.”
“And what’s that exactly?”
“Can’t define it.” I shrug. “But nothing heavy.”
C studies me in that slow, contemplative way of his, like he’s turning it over in his head. “Why don’t you two come for dinner on Sunday? Soph’s in Chicago. We’ll do a couples’ thing.”
“We’re not a couple.”
“So pull up as friends with benefits.”
“I’ll check with Lot.”
“Aight. Let me know what the missus says.”
“Bro, you need to quit.”
He laughs and claps my back. “Bring the grail.”
Once I finish setting up and C’s gone, I show Benny how to make the new drink I created for tonight. Sass in a Glass. Yeah, okay, Lot inspired it.
I mix blood orange gin for the bite, passion fruit liqueur for that touch of sweetness, fresh lime for zing, and a dash of chili bitters to match her fire. Shake and pour in a champagne glass. Finish with a splash of Prosecco for sparkle and garnish it with a blood orange slice and a dark cherry.
“Name fits.” Benny nods after tasting it. “Smacks you in the face, then kisses you sweetly.”
That’s Lot to a T. When he’s replicated the recipe to my satisfaction, I head home to shower and change.
The sky’s turned indigo velvet by the time I pull in. The porch light glows. Inside, the house is warm. The bedroom’s pure chaos. There are clothes everywhere, Lot in the middle like the eye of a fashion storm.
Queenie’s weaving between her ankles as Lot adjusts her short black skirt, its teasing swing enough to fuck with a man’s head.
Her long-sleeve sheer top clings to her like a second skin, baring her midriff, a black bra visible underneath.
Her locs are down, but my attention shifts to her thigh-high stockings.
The look is edgy, sexy, and chic.
“Damn, Web,” I exhale. “You got anything under that skirt?”
She grins, the corner of her lip tipping up, making it a half smirk. “You’ll have to find out.”
Challenge accepted. I cross the room and tug her toward me. She stumbles over Queenie and lands right in my arms, letting out a startled gasp, and I swallow it. Kissing Lot is like diving into a whirlpool—all silk heat and wild current.
My hands slide under her skirt, finding thick, soft, and completely bare cheeks.
“Fuck, Lot,” I growl, squeezing two handfuls. “You really taking your gorgeous ass to Docks like this?”
“Mm-hmm.” She moans and cups my dick through my jeans. “Go commando and we’ll be even. I’ll rub against this piece all night. Did I mention dancing makes me horny?”
“I need to bang one out now or I won’t last.”
“You’ll manage.” She wiggles away with a throaty laugh. “Think about the buildup.”
“I’m already about to explode.”
“Go take a cold shower and don’t you dare jerk off. Save it all for me.”
“Expect punishment for making me wait.”
“I’m counting on it. I even brought a surprise for you to punish me with.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Killin’ me slowly.”
“I promise you’ll survive, and it’ll be worth it.”
The cold shower stings my skin but helps to calm the beast. I trim my beard, slap on cologne, and get dressed in a black vest with no shirt underneath, a deep V at the chest. I pull on black slacks—no drawers as requested.
I add silver rope chains around my neck, and for the final touch, I slide on tinted shades. My DJ persona.
“Slick Rick,” she teases, painting her lips the color of cherry wine. I can’t help but think that would look real good wrapped around my cock. “Lookin’ fly, Jones.”
“Gotta keep up with you.”
“We are fine.” She snaps selfies of us, then just of me. “Money shot. Post this one with ‘Let Me Funk You Up. Docks Tonight. Where the party don’t stop.’”
She’s got a knack for promo. I upload it to my socials with the caption, then say all casual-like, “C invited us to dinner on Sunday with him and Lex.”
“Just the four of us?” she asks, brow furrowed.
“Nothing but friends gettin’ together.” I pocket my money clip. “You know C likes to entertain.”
“True.” Her frown eases. “Okay. I’m down. We should bring something. Wine?”
“Whatever you think.” The moment’s skirting couple territory. That’s when I usually start to feel those arms too tight around me. But there’s just a little squeeze, a pinch. Nothing I can’t handle. “Ready, Web?”
“Born ready.”
I laugh as I follow her out, watching her hips sway, her bare ass bouncing under that skirt. I stifle a groan. Ain’t no way I get through tonight with my sanity intact.
“Mind grabbing Queenie’s bed and Spider-Man?” she asks, scooping up the furball who’s been trailing her heels.
“She’s coming?”
“I’ll keep her in the office. Check on her through the night. You’re such a diva,” she coos at Queenie, trying to make it a scold. Cat nuzzles her neck like she knows she’s won.
“You keep lovin’ on her like that, she’s never leaving.”
“I’m not loving on her.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She shoots me her classic side-eye. But I’d bet my grail that what started out as temporary, a short-term stint, is now a permanent thing. Queenie’s hers. Lot just hasn’t caught up yet.
She sets the bed on the back seat with a soft blanket. After we’re all buckled in, Lot looks over at me. “I need your phone to download an app.”
“What app?”
“iJoy.”
“You got a sex toy in your purse, Web?”
“Nope. I’m wearing it.”
My gaze drops to her lap.
“Not there. In back.” That little devil tongue peeks out to wet her cherry lips, the implication clear.
“Fuck. How’m I supposed to spin while I’m buzzing your ass?”
“I have faith in your ability to multitask. But if it’s a problem…”
“Hell no.” I unlock my phone and pass it to her.
She downloads the app and hands it back. “I’m already wet,” she purrs, dipping her fingers between her legs and sliding them into my mouth.
Tastes like sugar and sin.
My dick’s rock-hard and the party hasn’t even started yet.