He Who Is a Friend (Sadik Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  “Oh, God!” slough deeply from my lungs, and my hips began to buck on their own accord.

  “Yes,” he breathed directly in my ear. “Get it, Bilan.”

  My entire frame shuttered as I imploded, energy on hyper-drive. I could feel my walls contract around his fullness as I drove up and down…up and down. It was a resounding reverberation all over my body. Sadik plummeted into me from beneath. He banged into my core, reviving the echoes of bliss. My mind went numb with unadulterated bliss. I was so gone.

  Completely.

  Utterly.

  Lost.

  “Goddamn…” Sadik swore as he continued to buck into me.

  His arms rounded my back and squeezed me into his bedewed chest. The powerful beat of his heart banged against my abdomen. He thrust into me slowly, several times more before freezing, holding me in his embrace. I couldn’t stop shivering, my chest heaving against his head.

  “You okay?” he murmured.

  “No,” I croaked honestly.

  I felt off, couldn’t control my shakes or breathing.

  Sadik’s torso reared. “Fuck!” His arms lifted to my wrists and worked to unknot the rope. “My bad, Bilan.”

  My chest continued to heave, face folded and I knew. The knot was untangled, my wrists dropping mechanically too fast. Pain thwarted in my shoulders, and a sharp howl pushed from my belly. Crashing against his chest, I began to cry.

  “Hey…” He gathered me to him, lifting us into the air to rearrange me without my help. It took a few tugs but eventually, I was nestled into him with closed thighs. “Tell me what I did wrong.”

  “Nothing,” I whispered, tears in my voice, too. My body shivered. “I just feel…”

  “Feel like what, Bilan?” There was urgency in his tone. “You have to tell me.”

  “Just…raw.” It was true. This was new to me, too. Everything concerning Sadik had been a new experience. I hated it. Instantly, I wished I didn’t reserve myself so much, just so I could be prepared for this moment. With him. “It’s stupid.”

  “It’s not!” he bit back, rubbing my back. “What can I do better?”

  “Nothing. You were fine.” Perfect. “Just give me a minute.”

  He steeled. “To yourself?”

  “No!” I barked. “Here. Right here.” I broke down again.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  His snug grip resumed. I felt sick with neediness, and from him. Only from Sadik. I hated it. It had to stop.

  I began to peel from his hold and climbed from the bed.

  “Where are you going?” His face twisted with frustration.

  Confusion…

  I managed a smile, a cheery one. “Let’s go take a dip.”

  “What?”

  I waved him on. “Come on. Let’s take the plunge!” Sadik’s brow line lifted and chin dipped. “Aw, come on! I bet you’ve never jumped into the Pacific after sex.” My forehead rose to challenge him.

  Sadik considered it, or pretended to. My nervous giggle had his eyes shooting to me again.

  “You sure you’re good?”

  I waved off the notion. “Just a little emo-phobic.”

  “Bilan,” he tried.

  “Come on!”

  After taking a deep breath, Sadik slid down and stood from the bed. I took him by the hand and ambled to the deck off the front of the house, facing the ocean.

  “One…” I began to countdown, hand in his. “Two. Three!”

  Together, we jumped off the ledge in the darkness of the night, leaping into water. The doosh didn’t alarm me as much this time as I sunk down toes first. The silky warmth of the water wasn’t a new discovery either. Not even the stillness of sound bothered me. It was when I surfaced with closed eyes, I swiped them of the running water and the first thing in sight was a glowering Sadik. I must have taken too long to spring up. He’d been waiting. He was concerned.

  Before he could utter a word of complaint, I blubbered, “You gave me my first orgasm. Okay?” I managed to shout with limited lungs.

  Sadik rolled his eyes, a dramatic reaction, making me feel even worse.

  “Bilan,” he droned before taking me at the arm and swimming closer to the shore.

  When we were able to stand, he towered me, scowling. “You couldn’t have said that upstairs in our bed?”

  I rotated a shoulder, still feeling the ache from them being suspended over my head. Confusion was etched over my face. “The water seemed like a safer place.”

  It was sarcasm. Really!

  “Look, it’s clear to me you don’t want to talk about your sexual history. I get it, but you’re making it damn hard to avoid doing shit like this!”

  “Why?”

  “Why— Because as a man who wants to please you by way of orgasms, it would have been encouraging to know after it happened up there. You don’t think I need that feedback?”

  “For what? To add to your already pompous state?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “This trip—escape—is for you and not about me. Remember on your ‘jet’, when you told me to get in line?”

  Sadik’s globular shoulders dropped as he exhaled, and his eyes rolled. He swiped his nose, glancing away.

  “I’m sorry about that. I lost my temper…had a lot on my mind this week, leading up to this trip.”

  “Like what?”

  “Business…work.”

  “That’s it.” I stated rather than asked.

  “It’s nothing that concerns you.”

  That stung. Bad. I took a deep breath, slightly turning in the water, too.

  “And I’m supposed to believe those things still aren’t on your mind?”

  Out of nowhere, I heard, “An employee—the same one that was the cause of me having to cut our picnic short at the park. I fired her, and now she’s suing me. I had to type up a letter to my staff about our position regarding it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I grumbled, brushing my hands over my face.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah, but like you said earlier, we’re not supposed to fight after doing what we did up there.”

  He scoffed. “Can you even name it?”

  I shot back, “Can you?”

  His head nodded softly. “Mental therapy. A connection, I hoped.”

  Like a child, I was speechless, without a clue on how to proceed.

  “Did I do anything wrong?” His tone was softer. Blow my mind, yeah. I shook my head. “Is there anything I could do different?” I shook my head again. “Anything I can do better?” Again, I shook my head. “Were the ropes too—”

  “Again, Sadik,” I blurted again. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.” And again.

  Why was I reduced to a child around him?

  Probably warranted…

  Only when it came to sex.

  He pulled me into him, making a splash when our flesh met in the water. It was instinctive for my hands to round his tapered waist and lay into his neck.

  “I can’t guarantee what’s to come,” he murmured over my head. “but I can promise to be completely honest with my feelings for you moving forward.”

  “Even if it means breaking my heart?” I joked dejectedly.

  He shifted and took me at the shoulders. “Even if it means you breaking mine.”

  My mind attempted to tackle the meaning of that as we strode up the beach and back into the villa.

  “Oh!” I cried out, enduring delicious thrusts from behind.

  Our skin slapping, the fat of my hips—and everywhere else—flapped to and fro. I felt more helpless in this position than any other one. I couldn’t see his face, measure the “connection” we were supposed have when engaging in copulation. But I felt him. As he pounded into my core, gripped my hips with desperation, and splattered sweat onto my back, I felt every inch of Sadik. He was thick and long with ridges to tease delicate nerves of the walls of my sex. Deep inside, his impression resounded all the way into my wom
b.

  And when my groin began to stir that familiar motion, I knew no matter the early hour of the morning when I rolled over to him, meeting his erection, I had to have him. When I tried to leave the bed to brush my teeth and wash my face, Sadik flipped me on all fours and buried his face in my butt, licking me senseless. Then he entered me from behind and I didn’t know how to receive him.

  He was right; sex with Sadik was some form of therapy. This was our last morning in Costa Rica, the place where, oddly, my sexuality had been awakened and deeply disturbed. I knew I’d never be the same after this getaway. Sadik had given more than a graduation gift. We’d been at it all weekend, spending Saturday in the bed, cancelling the scheduled excursions. Then yesterday, after a late morning rendezvous in the shower where Sadik used the faucet as an implement of pleasure, we were able to make it to a cooking class—yes, a cooking class. It was intimate, just the two of us with a world class chef. It was a fun and romantic way for Sadik to increase my desire for food. He hand-fed me along the entire experience, and by the time we were done, I was so revved up for him I couldn’t keep my hands off his body. I had no idea where that facet of my personality came from, but I felt free to express sexual needs. To remedy that, Sadik pulled me into a pantry for my first session of clandestine sex where I had to choose between breathing and screaming during an orgasm.

  But now, minutes into his deep thrusting, I had no choice but to receive him. I was coming apart, thrust by thrust. My core jolted, spine dipped more, inviting him in. The soft fabric of the bedding teased my erect nipples, intensifying my senses. His helpless grunts over me propelled my launch as I pushed back into his drives.

  “Goddamn, Bilan,” he cried. “you’re swallowing me…”

  Before he was done, I was lost to an earth-shaking orgasm ripping me at the core. My pelvis rocked back into him, fingers clawed the sheets, and teeth clenched as I endured the indelible explosion. Sadik rocketed into me, pumping hot semen I’d wanted to taste, mumbling a string of expletives.

  I groaned against his slow strokes, knowing he was momentarily depleted. Hearing his wheezing confirmed that.

  “You can go get washed up now,” he joked, slapping my hip.

  I squirmed, giggling. “We’re leaving,” I croaked.

  “Wanna stay a few more days?”

  “We can’t.” I slammed my face into the pillows.

  “I can. You just say the word.” He used his palm to wiggle my butt. “Your ass is so sweet, Nalib.”

  That sent a cackle from my belly into the air. “Lin-what?”

  “Nalib. You’re not the only one researching names,” he panted. “Yours is unique, too. Bilan means ‘first born’ and is given to the first born baby girl in a Somali family.”

  “Right. So where does that other name come into play.”

  “Nalib is my nickname for you. It’s your name spelled backwards. It means my last.”

  Humor drained from my face.

  “You’re stiffening.” He palmed my cheek again. “Don’t—”

  “Your last what?” My wide eyes rolled all around the crisp white sheets beneath me.

  Perhaps this position did have its benefits.

  “My last everything,” he groaned with charm as he circled a stroke, still mildly erect inside of me. “Don’t close up on me, Bilan. I can’t take that shit right after sex. You know this now.”

  “I—” I closed my eyes, squeezing them. “I just don’t know what you mean by your last.”

  “My last girlfriend, Nalib. My last lover…hopefully.”

  I swallowed hard, growing lightheaded. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

  “You are my girlfriend, just a stubborn one I have to give time to get adjusted to it.” No way I could gather the words to reply to that edict. Things went quiet for a spell, my mind whirring with questions—logic. “Bilan…”

  “Hmm?” My eyes went wild again.

  “I have a connect for an MBA program in Jersey. A friend of mine sent me a link yesterday. They have online and in-class courses, making it a flexible program for someone like you, who likes irregularity in your weekly schedule.”

  And when he said things like that, providing a balm after dropping a bomb, I was able to breathe again. I leaned forward, ejecting him from my body and turning to face him.

  “You know the chairperson?”

  He shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow, swollen chest still heaving, but mildly. “I have a connection to him. I can send an email this morning with the request. And before you ask, the request is just a meeting for you to get an introduction to their program, and for them to see if you’re a good fit, too. It would be on your own merit: I don’t know the people at the school. I doubt my friend has any control over their enrollment or practices at all. I just know he has the ear of the chair.”

  His tone was soft, eyes direct and sincere. And MBA program? I never considered it, but his adamancy influenced the possibility.

  I nodded. “Okay,” the word but a whisper. “I’d like that.”

  Sadik reached over and brushed his lips against my forehead. “Okay, Nalib. I’ll do that while you shower, but first, I need to take a leak.”

  He hopped off the bed, managing a last smack to my rear. Just as he took off, one of his phones vibrated near me on the nightstand. Sadik turned back toward the bed.

  “Damn.” His brows met. “I thought I powered them both off.”

  I settled onto my side, peering over the nightstand. “Not this one. It’s Lia.”

  “Shit.” He grabbed his hanging penis. “Answer and tell her I’ll be with her in a minute.” He continued to the bathroom.

  My face folded. Answer it? Your unborn child’s mother? I bit my lip, challenging myself to be an adult about this. It was clear Sadik and Lia had, at most, just a sexual affair and created a baby from it. They were in agreement about it being over. If he asked me to answer it, it was because he wanted transparency. As the phone continued to ring, I gathered a sheet around my body, leaving the bed for the deck. At least when she saw my bare shoulders against the ocean, she’d think I was dressed for the beach rather than just finishing sex with the person she was calling.

  I slid the virtual bar to answer. It took a couple of seconds to connect, which allowed me to prepare my greeting.

  Lia’s face appeared. It wasn’t enhanced by makeup the way it had been the night we met. She looked even paler than the night Sadik FaceTime’d her at The Garden. Lia looked ghosted, shocked by me answering. That was understandable.

  “Hey, Lia!” I tried for cheery; she seemed so down to earth the night of the Pixie concert. “Sadik’s in the bathroom. He didn’t want to miss your call and asked me to ans—”

  Someone in the background spoke, causing Lia’s regard to peer over the phone. That’s when I noticed her eyes were pink at the rim, lips swollen, and cheeks puffy to Botox proportions, something I knew was out of the ordinary based on just the two times I’d seen her.

  “I asked who the fuck is that?” a man shouted, and I believed at Lia.

  She didn’t speak.

  “Honey, answer your father,” a woman urged.

  But Lia didn’t speak. It was as if she couldn’t from fear.

  “Give me that goddamn—” I couldn’t hear the rest from the whishing and crackling from the phone being snatched from Lia.

  “No, Daddy!” she cried, but I could no longer see her.

  Coming into view was a robust White man, thick dark brows, dark circles under his eyes, mostly salted hair, and a flaming red neck.

  “Who are you?” He squinted with palpable energy into the screen.

  My heart began to gallop and suddenly, I felt indecent, tightening the sheet at my chest. His unwavering scowl was bone-chilling. It was scarier than Sadik’s undercurrent dark energy because with him, I felt an odd and uncanny sense of safety. This man’s vibes told me he could harm me and sleep exceptionally well at night.

  “Answer me! Who the fuck are you
!” he barked into the phone. I couldn’t speak to answer, my throat closed tight with fear. Tongue with a bitter coat of silence. He snarled, “Do you know who the fuck I am, bitch?”

  “Daddy!” Lia cried behind him. “No!”

  He continued, “I will find where you live, where you work, where your mother lays her head at night and make you regret dropping your panties for those exotic eyes, bald head, style, and that smooth talk.” I blinked, utterly shocked and shaken. Lia tried calming him in the background, as did another mature female voice. This man didn’t seem like the type to yield to compromise. “You hear me, you dumb cunt—”

  The phone was snatched from my hand, making me recoil, and I dropped onto the wooden planks of the deck. My heart fell from my chest, and my entire frame vibrated with fear as I found Sadik standing over me as naked as the day he was born. His scowl more baleful than it had been in our worst fight, his eyes darker than they’d ever been when aroused.

  “I don’t give a shit about why your fuckin’ face is on my screen,” he growled, tone too calm, too deceiving. “That fuckin’ point is moot at this time. What I will give you is the opportunity to apologize to my lady for your irrevocable disrespect.”

  The man scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me? I will not apologize to no bitch you’re romancing on a fucking beach. I see the background, you asshole. My daughter is here pregnant! All fucking alone while you’re gallivanting God knows where with random whores—”

  “Salvatore.” Sadik was just a pitch over the man, but dominant in his tone. Commanding. “You don’t know me.”

  “I don’t know you?” The man seemed flabbergasted. “I knew your father before your dumb ass was ever born! Don’t you ever tell me—”

  “I’m not that Ellis.” His tone still calm, threatening.

  “What Ellis?”

  “The Ellis you want to ruffle.”

  “The fuck do you mean! You bring disrespect to my daughter all these months since you knocked her up. Didn’t even have the decency to tell me, like a man you were seeing her, and you want to talk ruffled feathers? Fuck you, you asshole!” His Italian accent was sharper the louder he shouted.