5. The Better Invitation #2
Despite Jay’s obvious poor choice in women, my cousin was a great father.
He didn’t play about his sons, and it showed in the way he made it his business to be there for them even on days when he felt lost. It was Jay who’d first pointed out the difference in development between Justin, his older son, and Baby Jay.
While they were just two years apart, Justin seemed to reach milestones quicker than Baby Jay.
India’s ignorant ass took it as him trying to compare one son to the other like some silent competition, while Jay was clear that if something was wrong, he wanted to catch it early.
I watched him do his due diligence, even with her trying to fight it.
He got the answers he needed and a diagnosis that made things clear.
Jay fully engrossed himself in all things autism in order to learn the ins and outs of the disability.
And he stayed on top of everything to make sure his son was heard and understood the best way we all knew how.
Because if there was one thing you could count on a Sullivan to do, it was to meet you where you were and love you through some shit.
It was a little after eleven when I turned the TV off in the living room and headed for my bedroom.
I was taking it in early tonight. Jay had come by to get Baby Jay later than he said he would, and being the forward thinker I was, I already had him bathed and in pajamas when he arrived.
The moment that two hours turned to four, I knew Jay had gotten caught up at the distillery.
I let him slide this time, even though his son had run me ragged.
The way he’d fallen asleep on his own, sprawled out on the floor, was pure evidence of that.
I reached for my phone on the coffee table when it chimed just before I picked it up.
A small smirk tugged at the corners of my lips when I saw the name on the screen — Eric The Eater.
It had been a minute since I’d heard from him, and I was willing to bet that it had everything to do with his bruised ego.
Eric Chisholm was a Senior Investment Banker and used to having his way with women due to his status and the money that came along with it.
Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t a bitch that was easily impressed or moved by money, especially not when I had my own.
What started out as casual dates, spontaneous trips, fuck sessions that left him in awe, and what I thought was a mutual understanding somehow made him think that exclusivity was a no brainer.
It wasn’t. Not with me at least. See, it only took for me to have to remind a nigga that I was single once to know that he wasn’t with what I was putting down.
And unfortunately, Eric couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was dating a woman who kept options.
I respected that and didn’t take offense when he disappeared. I didn’t chase after him either.
Now, let’s not confuse my wanting options with me being a ho because I was far from that.
I was intentional when I dated. I liked to peruse my men like the toppings at a salad bar.
Sometimes, I wanted a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
And it was on rare occasion that I gave this pussy up.
Oh, but when I did, I most certainly knew how to make a nigga feel like he was the birthday.
EricTheEater: Long time no hear from. You feel like coming to sit the prettiest pussy on my face tonight? I miss her.
I smiled and laughed under my breath. Being subtle had never been one of his strong suits. However, he had me at sitting my pretty pussy on his face.
Me: Look at you, remembering one of my favorite pastimes. I’d be delighted to come and wet that beard up, sir.
His reply came back instantly.
EricTheEater: I can taste you already. Where should I send the car?
“Oh, dear, Eric. How soon you forget who you’re talking to,” I said out loud to myself, already catching on to his attempt to be slick. He knew that by arranging transportation, it made it more likely that I’d stay the night. But I knew the game. I’d grown up with the elite players.
Me: No need. I’ll drive myself. Just send the address. And leave the key at the front desk.
EricTheEater: Will do. See you soon.
Locking my phone, I made my way to the bathroom to get fresh.
Just the thought of Eric’s tongue snaking up and down my slit made me put a little pep in my step.
I hadn’t met a man yet who took such pleasure in eating pussy as Eric.
Great pride in it too. That man would go to sleep with my pussy on his tongue and wake up attached to it if I let him.
Just as nasty as he wanted to be. Placing my phone on the sink, I stripped out of my clothes.
No sooner than I went to turn the shower on, my phone chimed again.
I sighed, hoping that it wasn’t him. Eric could also be a little pushy at times and often impatient.
I had to remind him that a man who couldn’t let the anticipation do its thing would only kill the vibe.
Pussy instantly dried up. Reaching over to pick the phone up off the sink, I was surprised to see Mehki’s name on the screen.
Well, the name I’d saved him under — B.D.E.
Before I could stop it, I broke out in a wide smile.
Cause bitch, not you cheesing and ain’t even open the text yet, I thought as I unlocked my phone.
B.D.E: You sleep?
Me: Nope.
I responded quicker than I should’ve after 11 p.m. but thought, what the hell.
B.D.E: What you up to?
Me: Getting ready to take my cat for a ride.
I laughed out loud after sending the message because I played way too much.