2. Sariya
sariya
. . .
“Arch your back, Sariya,” Ro instructed, his voice a raspy whisper.
With her face pressed into the mattress of the hotel bed, arms spread above her head, she did exactly as he said, arching her back until her ass was tilted up, her legs partly spread, pussy pulsating.
“You know how long I’ve been waiting to give you this dick?” he asked as he used both his strong hands to grip each cheek of her ass.
She moaned, couldn’t help it, that shit felt too good. Every touch since she’d walked through that door had felt too damn good. And she didn’t want it to stop.
“Answer me!” He bellowed, released her cheeks then smacked one hard.
The sound echoed through the room, to be quickly followed by her gasp and then a muffled, “No.” She breathed through the pleasurable sting on her skin. “No, I don’t know.”
“A long ass time,” he said, then grasped her cheeks again, this time spreading them open. “Shit, Sariya. You look so damn good, baby.” He groaned and she panted. “So. Damn. Good.”
The next thing she knew, his tongue was easing down the slit of her ass. Hot, wet, and so amazing she screamed like he was killing her instead of pleasing the hell out of her. Over and over he licked and sucked until she dripped from her center, her thighs convulsed and her teeth bit down into her bottom lip.
What felt like two or three fingers pressed into her while his mouth continued to work and she gripped the sheets, closing her eyes to the sensations sweeping through her body. Ro was licking her ass and finger fucking her. In about three point five seconds she was going to explode and just fifteen minutes ago her best friend had driven off into the night with her new husband.
What in the world was she doing?
Having one hell of a nightcap could be the best answer.
When her release ripped through her, she tried to scream but it got caught somewhere between his name and a muffled cry as she buried her face into the bed, eyes closed so tight she swore she felt tears. The way her body convulsed uncontrollably scared her for a split second when she thought she might need to be carted off to an emergency room instead of tucked into bed for a good night’s sleep.
“Yeah,” Ro moaned and sighed as he licked and swallowed every drop of her release. “That shit’s mine too,” he said. “Every last nut you get belongs to me.”
Somewhere in the distance of the hazy orgasm aftermath she heard the tearing of a condom wrapper and before she could brace herself, catch her breath, or hell, pray, he was pushing his thick hard length inside of her. One deep thrust was all it took. His hands clenching her hips, his groin slapping against her ass in a loud, “smack!” and she was done. She knew and he did too, even before he started stroking her like she’d just signed over ownership of her pussy to him.
He was right, every orgasm she would have from this moment on, whether it came directly from him thrusting in and out of her as he was currently doing, or when she touched herself to this memory, they belonged to him. She belonged to him, just like she’d always feared.
“Hey? You still with me?” His hand on her shoulder, giving her a little shake yanked Sariya out of that memory.
That blissfully hot memory of the one night they’d spent together seven years ago.
“What? Yeah. Yeah,” she said and reached for her glass on the table in front of her. “I’m here.”
But she really wasn’t. She was back at that hotel, the night of Donyell’s wedding, when she’d said to hell with all the trepidation, she’d felt about wanting Ro to fuck her, and simply let it be. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, or at least a really attractive one.
And shit, after she took a gulp of the water she’d ordered to go with the loaded nachos the server had brought to their table a little while ago, and glanced at Ro again, he was still too fuckin’ fine.
Pecan hued skin, smoldering dark brown eyes, goatee with a few strands of gray that gave him the start of what she knew was going to be a distinguished gentleman look, and low temp fade cut had set her hormones ablaze the moment she stared down at him sitting in that booth.
The last time she’d seen him had been three years ago when he was home for Christmas. Four years before that had been Donyell’s wedding and before that had been the four years she and Donyell were away at college. He’d come home for a few holidays during those years, but whenever Sariya was home on a holiday break from school she spent that time with her mother and Uncle Larry. Her college summers were spent either volunteering at one of the local hospitals or that year she and Donyell had saved up their leftover financial aid money and spent a month traveling Europe.
“What did I just say?” he asked with that grin that had grown more sexy than goofy over all the years she’d known him.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You talk too much.”
He finished the beer he’d been drinking from the bottle. “And you’re still a daydreamer.”
“I am not,” she shot back, hating that he had remembered anything about her. He should’ve forgotten her by now, the way she’d forced herself to forget about him.
“And you love to argue.” He sat back against the seat they’d taken in the section reserved for the party when they’d returned from getting Donyell’s phone and shoes. “We can’t never just have a conversation without you debating something with me or countering every damn thing I say.”
“Don’t say stupid shit,” she replied.
“So, asking you what you want to do next in your career is stupid?”
Dammit. He got on her nerves so bad.
“Right,” he said with a knowing nod before she could speak. “I want to know why it’s taking you months to find a job and don’t tell me because you’re looking for the right one. You’re too practical for that and you’re too good at what you do to not have had offers from wherever you interviewed. So, tell me what’s really going on.”
She could lie, like she’d been doing for the last hour since he’d decided he needed to sit right next to her while all the other attendees at this party mingled, danced, drank and ate. She and Ro had done the eating and drinking part, but from this spot where they’d been sitting. At one point, in an effort to get away from him she’d thought about getting up to dance, but instinct told her he would just follow her ass out onto the dance floor and that she didn’t want. As platonic as she could keep this encounter with him, the better. There would be no reason for him to rub his still dense, body against hers like he’d done outside and absolutely no reason for him to put those strong hands she remembered so well on her again.
But Ro was persistent, annoyingly so. If he had a question he was going to find the answer, no amount of denying or scrambling would stop him. So, she didn’t even try.
“I don’t want to go back into a hospital setting. I want to do something…something that’ll make a difference,” she said.
“Okay,” he replied. “Tell me more.”
She huffed and figured to hell with it, she might as well. They weren’t doing anything else but sitting here while a whole party happened around them.
“I don’t know if you knew this, but the clinic I was working at accepted a lot of patients on Medicare or Medicaid the state subsidized health care system. That was part of the claims against the director and the owners, that they were defrauding the government by billing way more than they were servicing.” She waved a hand because that had only been the tip of the iceberg. “Anyway, I don’t want to get into that drama. It’s not my business. But what hurt me most about the clinic being closed, wasn’t that I lost my job, it was the patients. Many of them came to the clinic because it was the closest health facility they could get to that would accept their insurance and still provide quality care. We also offered alternative treatments that they couldn’t get in the larger hospitals.”
“What kind of alternative treatments?”
“Mainly medicinal cannabis. We also had a holistic healer on staff as well as two trauma therapists. Our goal was to minister assistance to the mind and body. And we were doing it in a place that was familiar to the patients, where they felt safe and unjudged.” She toyed with the edges of the silver napkin she’d set her glass on top of.
He eased his head back, his eyes going a little wider. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She frowned. “Why’d you say it like that? What’s wrong, you don’t agree with medicinal cannabis? I know that’s a lie considering how much weed you used to smoke back in the day and probably still do. I mean, it’s been legal in Denver way longer than it has here in Maryland.”
“Nah, that’s not it at all. And you’re right, I did used to smoke a lot.” He chuckled at that. “The good ‘ole days. But I really didn’t while I was out in Denver. I was working so much, trying to move up in the bank. I wasn’t trying to do anything to mess up that internship. Then when I got the job permanently, I knew I could only go further if I kept my eye on the prize.”
That sounded just like the Ro she’d always known. The focused and determined boy who’d spent hours after dinner when it had gotten too dark for Ms. Christine to let him wander the streets, shooting that basketball in the alley at the back of their rowhouse. Then, when he’d gotten into his teen years, he spent most of his time at the rec center where he did the exact same thing, play basketball. That had seemed to be every Black boy’s dream at the time, to get a basketball scholarship and eventually end up in the NBA. That, or become a rapper. But Ro couldn’t rap. He could dance his ass off though.
“And you finally claimed that prize, didn’t you?” she asked, trying not to sound irritated at the thought that to get what he’d always wanted, he’d had to live so far away.
“No, actually,” he said, catching and holding her gaze. “I didn’t. At least not yet.”
Well, damn. It had been a really long time since a simple look from a guy could make her panties wet. Then again, the barely masked hunger that was clear in his eyes and the fact that it was coming from him, made this far from a simple look.
“Anyway,” he said, just before she was about to turn away. “Back to your original inquiry, I’m not bothered by the mention of medicinal cannabis because I happen to be a cannabis banker. That’s why I moved back to Baltimore, actually. I’m the Chief Financial Officer at Dukane Bank now. I’m spearheading the cannabis banking division. Made a few trips back and forth to Annapolis and D.C. in the past three years to do some lobbying to get that bill passed.”
“Oh, wow,” she said. “Like, really wow. I had no idea you were doing it that big. I mean, I always knew you would because you wouldn’t settle for anything less. But, wow.” Then she frowned. “So, wait, you’ve been back in town on and off for the last three years and you didn’t tell anybody?” She wanted to say, he didn’t tell her, but she snapped her mouth shut and waited for his response.
“They were short trips and I didn’t want to tell my moms and pops about it until it was official that I was going to come back for good. Didn’t want to get their hopes up, you know.”
“I get it,” she said. “Didn’t want to get their hopes up.” She stared down at that napkin again as she mumbled those words.
When he reached out to take one of her hands, lacing his fingers through hers, she tried not to sigh at how amazingly good that touch felt. How comfortable and relaxed it made her feel. “It was always my intention to come back here and settle down. This is my home,” he said.
She swallowed. “Yeah, it is.”
Why they sat like that staring at each other, that one hand connected, for endless moments she had no idea. And she put an end to it before the ideas, aka her daydreams, had a chance to restart. “So, what do you do as a cannabis banker?”
His lips spread into a wide grin and suddenly she wanted to say whatever, do whatever to see that look on his face again and again.
“A lot,” he replied. “And I think a lot that can help you fulfill your purpose.”
She gave him a quizzical look.
“Come home with me,” he said.
And she immediately started to pull her hand out of his.
He held it firmer. “To talk about how I can possibly help you with your next job.”
His chest expanded and he bit back a smile as Sariya walked into his house. He’d hit the switch beside the door so that the recessed ceiling lighting illuminated the foyer and into the open living room area.
“Wow, again, Ro,” she said as she walked ahead of him. She passed the stairs on her right and kept going until she stood on the portion of the light wood floor that was covered by a slate blue area rug.
The rug had just been delivered a week ago and the mist gray sectional, matching barrel chair and the large white coffee table had arrived yesterday.
“This is so much space,” she continued as she turned to her right where the open floor design continued into the kitchen and a dining area with patio doors leading out to the deck. “You could have the entire Simmons side of your family here for the holidays then they wouldn’t have to all squeeze into your mother’s house like they do for every other holiday or special occasion. Your Uncle Pete could actually sit at the table, or in a chair somewhere else in here, instead of on the steps like he always does.”
Ro had just finished removing the wool trench coat he’d worn and dropped it onto the barrel chair, when he had to laugh at her comment. “Uncle Pete does that shit on purpose. He knows he can sit someplace else in my parents’ house. Just likes to be contrary.”
“Yeah,” she said as she found a switch on another wall and turned on the pendant lights over the kitchen island. “Just like my Uncle Larry.” Whatever she was going to say next was cut off as she walked further into the space. The island was white marble, the cabinets beige and the four armless high-boy chairs at the island were a rich dark chocolate leather. “Oh. My. Goodness,” she sighed. “This is amazing. Ms. Christine’s gonna love cooking in here.”
He wondered why she was relating everything about his house to his parents’ house but didn’t question her. Mostly because that’s not the conversation he wanted to have with her right now. The why’s behind his purchase of this house and the plans he had for it moving forward—which may or may not include hosting the next Simmons family Christmas dinner—was something they could discuss later. Something, he planned for them to discuss later.
“You want something to drink?” he asked and moved to the refrigerator. “I’m still getting settled in, so I haven’t really had a chance to do a big grocery shopping run yet. The living room is the most furnished space in the house right now. But I do have some bottled waters, cranberry juice and lemonade.”
“I’ll take lemonade,” she said, just as he figured she would.
Sariya had never been much of a soda drinker. A quick bout of acne when she was thirteen and she’d put a pause on the daily sprite she’d stop at the corner store after school to buy along with her three musketeers bar. The moment her cheeks had cleared up, she’d decided there would be no more sodas for her. But when Donyell had mentioned that chocolate could’ve also been the culprit for her breakout, Sariya had immediately declared her favorite candy bar as sacred and thus safe from any exclusion in her lifetime.
He fixed her a glass and grabbed a water bottle for himself. “Let’s go sit down and finish our conversation.”
He’d sort of wished she’d been in his truck with him as they rode out to his house, they could’ve gotten most of their conversation done then, but she’d driven to the party and was adamant about driving herself to his place. Because he knew Sariya could and usually did attempt to argue about any and everything, he let her have this one, deciding to pick and choose his battles.
“You need some coasters,” she said when they were back in the living room area. Then she reached into a black leather bag that was big enough to fit his entire desktop computer and perhaps the rest of the contents of his desk inside of and pulled out a pack of tissues. She took a few out and set them on the coffee table, then motioned for him to put their drinks down.
He watched her remove her jacket before taking it from her to toss onto the chair beside his. But when she was about to sit on the sectional, he reached out and took her hand. “Wait, you owe me something,” he said when she stared at him in question.
“Owe you what?” she asked with a frown.
Damn he loved how good she looked in those pants that hugged her perfectly round ass and her thick thighs. And that little ass hoodie that he should’ve told her she was gonna freeze in, was cute and sexy at the same time. Her ankle boots were black with a wedge heel that made her a little taller and just all around finer. Then again, he was biased, there wasn’t a time that he hadn’t looked at Sariya and not thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“A welcome home hug. A kiss. A ‘damn, Ro, it’s good to see you’. Something,” he said with his brows arched.
She laughed. “You’re bossy, you talk too much, and you’re spoiled,” she replied, but didn’t argue when he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
When her arms circled his waist, he sighed, loving the feel of her allowing herself to melt against him. To lay her head against his chest and just hold on. Damn, he’d missed this feeling most. Not that he hadn’t dreamed of the one night he’d been able to lose himself completely inside of her, because he had. A lot. But this right here, just holding her and having her hold him, was some bomb ass shit that could not be duplicated.
So, when they finally pulled back from the hug, he had absolutely no qualms about leaning in to touch his lips to hers.