by Xyla Turner
This woman pushed all of my buttons, but I was determined to make sure that she knew and felt that I would not stop or let go. I would not let her just leave.
Moving toward her bed, where she sat, naked, I directed her, “Now undress me. Slowly.”
She obeyed, and I watched in fascination as she boldly put her hands on almost every part of my body. When she went to pull down my pants, she slid to her knees and let my cock rub across her face while she moved her head around.
The next morning, I woke to an empty bed and the warm and sweet aroma of coffee. My bag was no longer at the front door, but on the side of the bed. Sheryl must have brought it up for me.
The gesture was a nice one, almost welcoming, even though I’d definitely taken liberties. Once I showered and dressed, I joined her in the kitchen, where she sat at the island looking at her iPad and laughing. “What are you watching?” I asked.
“Comedy show.” She looked up with a smile. “I always like to watch something funny. Life is depressing enough, right?”
She wasn’t asking, but I could appreciate the boundaries she put in place to keep life from being too much. Moving toward her, I wrapped my right arm around her neck, pulling her in to kiss her temple.
“Yeah, it is,” I murmured before letting her go.
Turning, she looked at me with a lifted eyebrow before telling me that my breakfast was in the oven.
“Thank you.” I nodded. “Did you eat?”
“Yeah, I did.” She turned back to the iPad.
“Next time, let’s eat together.” I retrieved my food from the oven where it was warm and covered in foil.
She’d made croissants, spinach, a boiled egg, and some bloody tea. Nodding, I sat next to her and began to eat. It was quite appetizing.
“So let’s get some things straight.” Sheryl’s head turned toward me as I finished off the last of the pastry. “You’ve moved in and infiltrated yourself into my life. I have allowed you to, but I want you to know this, Jacquez. I want a baby, but it does not have to be by you. Again, what I want can be achieved by other means, and if you even act like you want to play games with me, I am telling you now - I’m out. I don’t have time. I have nothing to lose. I’m a single woman with many prospects, and you are not obligated to be my child’s father, nor are you beholden to me in any way. I just want us to both to be clear on that.”
This was the business Sheryl. The one who brokered all the deals.
“We’re clear,” I told her. “The same goes for me, but I think we picked each other for a reason. I do not believe in coincidences, nor do I think that what we started should end there. I follow the signs, Sheryl. Those have led me to the best places in business, and I am doing the same for this. So yeah, we are clear. Now can we cut the shit and start really planning the rest of our lives?”
Her smirk morphed into a smile, and then she said, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Nine
Sheryl South
We spent the day looking at homes and then ended our day exhausted, hungry and tired, and also decided to have our home built. Jacquez contacted a contractor and realtor to see where homes were being built, and we planned to meet them tomorrow.
While we were out, I purchased baby books, magazines on décor, and enlisted in every course there was about parenting. Well, we both did.
Instead of sex, the two of us picked out what our child’s room could look like as we ripped out the pages of how we wanted it to be and what that entailed. Jacquez took notes in his little black book with people to call and the types of home designers we needed to get. Apparently, he felt like I was just as much of a bachelorette as he was a bachelor, so we’d need some help with having our house look like a home for our child.
This was a good point, because I knew nothing about décor or feng shui. Were the walls and baseboards clean? Okay, then I was good.
Jacquez thought that was funny.
By Sunday, we’d already had sex in every room again, but we were wrapping up all the loose ends for our next steps, including the dates we planned to travel to see each other. We met with the contractor, checked out some neighborhoods and narrowed them down to three areas within the Philadelphia region. Jacques and I were so caught up, he forgot about the visiting his mother, but sent her some flowers and her favorite cannoli.
Jacquez Costa
By the time Phil dropped me off at the airport, Sheryl wasn’t as guarded as my last visit. Therefore, I chalked that up as progress. Before I left, I pulled her into me, since she was standing outside the car, and nipped her ear.
“See you in a couple of weeks.” I squeezed her arse. “Have Tammy send your itinerary for your flight.”
“Sure.” She smirked back at me. “Safe travels.”
“Yeah. Thanks for hosting this weekend. I can’t wait to host you next.” I gave her a quick pat on the butt and then proceeded to go to my jet. She watched until I turned around before dipping my head to get in, then she climbed in the back seat, and Phil took off.
To say that the next two weeks were not Sheryl-free of my mind would be a lie. She was present and therefore had me texting a few times and even calling to see how she was doing. The first phone call was a bit awkward, but it bloody beat agonizing over what she was doing and who she was with. Though it was likely her friend, Maxine, who was back from her honeymoon.
The second call was less awkward, because I focused it on us discussing our parenting styles by answering questions, which we both stumbled over.
Were we either of the following four:
Authoritarian or disciplinarian, permissive or indulgent, uninvolved or authoritative. It was clear that I would probably be authoritative, but some mates of mine shared that once you have children, everything changes. Especially a little girl and their fathers.
Keeping with that same mindset, the next day we FaceTimed to discuss the house we were going to buy in the suburbs. The following day, I sent her some listings of homes in London so she had an idea of what I was looking for. Each day following up until she came to visit me, we talked about our co-habitation, reviewed what we liked, and took online quizzes and personality tests so we could share and see the best way to live together. Hell, my secretary joined the cause, once I explained without details, and had us doing the strengths finders assessment so we could evaluate both of our strengths. The kicker was that we were both achievers and liked to command. We veered with me being analytical and she had competition. Those were our top three, which meant that we would likely bump heads. What it also told me was that, thus far I had been leading, but more importantly, she was allowing me to do so.
A leader cannot lead if no one follows. I might be the one to take action, but if there is no one willing to go with me, then everything would be for naught.
The fact that Sheryl was willing to do this with me and inconvenience her life brought a greater awareness by the time she came to visit.
Maybe a bloke was feeling a bit vulnerable or just bloody honored, but when she touched down on the tarmac and descended from her jet, I pulled her into me and kissed her hard. It was one of desperation and dare I say, need. The two of us had been talking every day, and the bond between us was growing stronger. This would be great for our child. They would know what a loving home should be, so we were on the right track.
After Mateo was killed in the streets, Mum was never the same after that. She held on to me with a power grip. It was suffocating, of course, which is why I subconsciously probably moved to London. To be free from the hold. She was not happy about this, but I think on another level, the woman might have been relieved. Happy to know that I was safe or could be safer.
“Well, hello to you too.” Sheryl pulled back and smiled at me.
Damn.
I wasn’t sure if she had reserved one of those smiles for me, but she was beautiful. Hell, it caused me to smile back.
“Hey yourself.” I nabbed her carry-on. “How was your flight?”
�
��I went to sleep, so it was great.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know you were meeting me here. That was not what we discussed.”
She was right, but I wanted to be here when she touched down.
“Right,” I commented. “Figured I’d show you around a bit. We get to pop around and get some food, then you can rest if you want. Jet lag sneaks up on you.”
“That sounds great,” Sheryl agreed.
Nabbing her hand with my right, I escorted her to the car. My driver was off this evening, because I wanted to make sure I had her to myself for a bit.
Sheryl was excited to ride up front and sit on the left side, which was our passenger’s seat, because the driver was on the right, unlike in the States.
“This is so weird,” she exclaimed with a happy but curious expression on her face.
Her hands caressed the dashboard, and then she turned to look at me as I started up the vehicle. Her face was filled with wonder, but fuck, was she pretty. She looked almost child-like.
“Was it weird for you, coming to London and adjusting to driving like this?” she asked.
I found my face morphing into another smile. Damnit, this was so different for me.
“At first, yeah,” I confirmed. “Now it works. What do you have a taste for?” I asked as we pulled into traffic.
Driving over here was not so different during than driving in the suburbs in the States. Traffic was traffic, hackneys were taxis and people were people. Just on the right side.
By the time we arrived at our destination, I listened to her admire the architecture, the telephone booths and many of the cobblestone roads. She explained that she was no stranger to London, as she did business here. Yet she found that her focus was on her work and not enjoying the city. I could understand it, because though it was my residence, I was focused on work. Lately, that had shifted, and I had been thinking about our plan. Our child. Leaving a legacy.
For some reason, it took priority and made work to be something that wasn’t what I ate, lived and breathed. Though the feeling was welcome, it was still foreign.
We popped into a pub and had a quick lunch, then I showed her a couple of homes and a plot of land that my realtor had found. This was on the Knightsbridge side of town. It was not my intention to tax her since she’d just arrived, so we only drove by the homes before I took her to my condo so she could relax.
My humble abode was definitely a bachelor’s pad, but luxury was dripping everywhere. Marble floors, walls, gold-encrusted pendants within the doors and various finishings. Smart everything, including the refrigerator, which alerted me when I was getting low on groceries. It was the best money could buy, and I had no problem exploring what those things were. For fuck’s sake, I worked hard. I also knew Sheryl was the same way, therefore she could understand. I had to make no apologies for my wealth, and I didn’t have to explain myself about why I lived the way I lived. Also, I didn’t have to worry about her using me.
This notion had been the bane of my existence when it came to relationships. Which is why I was doing what I was doing. Fucking with no expectations. Nothing owed and nothing to be borrowed. It was a mutual experience that required nothing from the other. An exchange of sex and then it was good night. This same thing was supposed to happen with Sheryl and now, look at us.
“Very nice.” She observed everything and touched only a few objects as she boldly took her own tour of the suite.
“You, sir, know how to live.” She gave me a half turn with a smirk.
“You’re supposed to be resting, not turning me on,” I called to her, as I remained in the front observing her in my space.
It was natural. Almost too comfortable, as if it was déjà vu again. My mother always believed that déjà vu was God’s way of letting you know you were on the right track. I tended to believe it as well, so when Sheryl did that half turn with an upturn of the corner of her lips, my heart skipped one beat. It was just one, but also confirmed that the route we were headed was a good one.
“Where can I freshen up?” she asked me, looking around.
“Let me show you,” I instructed before picking her bags back up and tilting my head so she’d follow me.
Once we stepped into my suite, I shared that she could use the master bathroom as I placed her bags on her side of the bed.
“I’ll be downstairs,” I called to her retreating form as the door of the restroom closed.
“Okay,” she yelled back.
I took the time to catch up on some work, and two hours later, there was no Sheryl. Calling her name yielded no response, but eventually I walked in the bedroom and saw her lying across it in a towel that barely covered her mid-thigh. Quiet snores escaped through her nose, and for some reason, she looked perfect in the space. Not just because she was asleep, but it looked as if she was supposed to be there.
Moving toward the bed, I covered her with the blanket from the corner of the side she was sleeping on and then went downstairs to begin my preparations for the evening. She and I were supposed to go out for dinner, but I decided it would be good to cook, stay in and have a night for ourselves. God knows, I couldn’t wait to ravish her later. She was not ovulating, but I didn’t quite give a fuck anyway.
Quickly, I ordered whatever groceries were missing and began to cook while playing soft classical music. The sun was beginning to set, casting a glow in the condominium that was perfect for a photoshoot. This was why I’d purchased the place. Sitting on my deck or just in the sitting room reading to watch the sun set was amazing. That sort of scenery I wanted my mother to experience. She wouldn’t leave New York though.
Almost as I finished making the food, I heard soft footsteps on the stairs, and then Sheryl appeared, looking a bit dazed. Without a thought or even a moment to process, I laughed, went to her, and pulled the woman into my chest to kiss her forehead.
“You look like you’re a zombie and trying to figure out life right now.” I was still laughing.
“I was so freaked out.” She looked up at me with that same dazed but cute look.
I leaned down to kiss her lips and asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” She nodded. “Did you cook?”
“Yes, luv,” I replied. “I did.”
One of her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but I simply led her to the dining table.
“Sit and I’ll be right out with our meal,” I instructed.
After bringing everything out, the two of us piled food on our plates and in the beginning, we ate in silence. Well, not completely, Sheryl would moan here and there when she especially liked the food. Then we began to talk about where I learned how to cook and why was I hiding my talent. Once I explained some of my mom’s story, but just the part where it was just her and me I had to learn how to cook.
Essentially, I had been living alone for a while, therefore eating out wasn’t always the healthier option. Plus, as I traveled, I would pick up something here or there that I incorporated into my repertoire. Then she talked about her cooking skills, or lack thereof. Her preferences were for movies and television series versus going to the opera or Broadway. What her favorite foods were and her ideal vehicle. Places she’d been and wanted to travel to, along with business venues she still wanted to pursue.
It was an informative conversation and caused me to see the intelligent woman in a different light and on a deeper level.
Chapter Ten
Jacquez Costa
Sheryl was hiding something, and I wasn’t sure what. Either she was getting cold feet or she was rethinking our agreement. Bloody hell, I didn’t know what to fucking believe. We’d been seeing each other every two weeks and during ovulation season and it had been three months. So far, nothing. There was no rush, but there was. It was like an internal clock was going off in my mind about how this needed to happen with her now for fear that the opportunity wouldn’t come again.
When would I find a woman that wasn’t looking for my money? Sheryl South was a fucking millionaire and could h
ave whoever she wanted. Fuck, the woman could get a surrogate to have a baby, but she wanted to do it, and she was willing to do it with me. She was on board with my plan. This had to happen now and bloody soon.
Therefore, when I arrived this time, I met her at her job. According to Tammy, she was available after eleven-thirty in the morning, so I planned to take her out to lunch. My flight landed early, so I was there early and camped out in the lounge so she wouldn’t see me until the time. I swore her assistant to secrecy with a promise to do something nice for the holidays.
Many people walked in, spoke, grabbed a snack from the counter or food from the refrigerator, and left. Her assistant came in after a while and asked if she could get me anything. As we were chatting about what I didn’t need, two guys came in and saw us speaking, and I noticed that Tammy rolled her eyes.
“You all right?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the two men who were staring at me.
“Yeah,” she huffed. “They are just douchebags is all.”
The professional masks slipped off, and it seemed to be trouble in paradise. I thought it was with her, until Tammy spilled.
“They have a thing against South. Always talking shit about her. She don’t pay them any attention. According to them, she caught them talking shit, but she gave no consequences. Just told them to their jobs. I can’t stand them. Just a bunch of…”
She didn’t continue, but I knew what she wouldn’t say.
They were a bunch of pussies.
The two men were eyeing us but congregating around the microwave, whispering. Without much thought, I stood and went over to them.
“Hey, mate,” I greeted them. “I’m a companion of Ms. South and I do not like what I’m hearing. I hear it again and you’ll have to answer to me. Or just resign. I don’t really care.”
