Not About That Life

by Vera Roberts

  My eyes don’t leave him as he walks away. He has the same quiet masculinity about him that Ian does; the type that lets a room know he could command it and his only crime was just stepping foot inside it.

  “I see you have an admirer.” Ian whispers in my ear. I blink twice and turn to him. He has a humorous look on his face but I’m not entirely sure if he really finds it funny or if he’s just biding his time before he reacts in another way when we’re not in public.

  Ian removes the gaudy cocktail ring from my left ring finger and replaces it with the engagement ring that occupied the right one. “There. Much better.”

  ~~~~~~

  “I don't do this for the fame and recognition. I didn’t set out to be famous; I set out to be successful. This generation is so occupied for doing things for the likes, the retweets, the follows, but they’re not doing anything to build a legacy. Everyone keeps saying, ‘Oh, I have time, I’ve got time, oh, there’s plenty of time for that.’” Queen Esi shakes her head, “no, there isn’t. You can have everything one day and it’ll be taken from you in a heartbeat. My family has survived numerous wars, plots from our enemies on our lives, and I’ve buried more family members than I want to admit. You only have today to get it right. Your impact doesn’t have to be great. It can be as small as complimenting someone on their shoes, their hairstyle, or even the color they’re wearing. Even that will make a significant impact. Don’t think because you don’t have tons of money to give, you cannot impact someone’s life. Being nice is always free. Thank you and God bless.”

  Everyone stood up and cheered for the queen once her speech was over. She talked to many people and posed for pictures. I wanted to speak with her again, but I didn’t think I would be able to get a word in with her.

  I would just have to look at her from afar and just be in awe.

  As Ian and the rest of the Ferguson clan met with other people, I had a quiet moment to myself at the table. The queen was right – I needed to take more action today and not delay anything any longer. I needed to get my life together, plan my own legacy separate from the Fergusons, and purchase more property I can pass down to future generations like what my mother did with the artwork.

  A light bulb went off in my head – I need to talk to Gerald about how much the artwork is really worth.

  “You shouldn’t be alone,” a voice said from behind.

  I turn around and see Kwesi grinning down at me. I quickly stand up to greet him. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

  “Were they good ones?”

  I slowly nod. “I say so, myself. I’m planning.”

  “Well, that’s always a good thing.” He replies. “Wedding plans?”

  “Estate plans,” I correct him and he seems surprised by that, “what? I’m not allowed to think for myself?”

  “No, you’re definitely allowed to.” He turns his focus back to Ian. “I just didn’t think you were able to.”

  “He’s always supported my dreams and anything I want, he’ll get it for me.”

  Kwesi nods. “That’s good. You deserve to be spoiled like the princess you are.”

  It’s the second time a member of the Agbo dynasty has called me a princess and it’s not going unnoticed. What’s even more disturbing is I like it. Princess Dominique does have nice ring to it.

  A jarring memory pops into my head. Princess isn’t the first time I’ve heard that compliment.

  “Ian’s here. He’s ready for his princess!” He smiled.

  Ian’s princess, huh? I love the sound of that.

  What in the fuck am I doing entertaining another man and his bullshit?

  “Are you okay?” Kwesi’s voice interrupts my train of thought.

  I shake my head to relieve the memory and smile at him. “I’m great.” I briefly touch my cheek. “I need to go join my fiancée.”

  Kwesi’s eyes head straight to my engagement ring and he smiles. “I see someone had a talk with you.”

  “I don’t think it was a talk to me,” I reply, “but it was a message to you.”

  “Oh?” Kwesi’s eyes lock with mine. “What message is that?”

  I beckon him to lean closer to me and I brush my lips against his earlobe. “Unavailable.” I pull back and walk to Ian, who wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my temple.

  Six

  The vibe when we enter the townhome is a lot different from when we left. Ian is a lot more cheerful and happier. His blue eyes dance with each sentence and he’s slightly tipsy. He takes off his shoes and I follow suit, and Ian leads me into an impromptu dance while he sings Anita Baker’s “Caught in the Rapture” to me.

  This is a rare moment of peace between us in a hard month for him. I know the upcoming days and weeks will be difficult on him. I just hope things won’t be so bad and I can somehow ease the pain and torment he feels.

  Ian spins me around and dips me, smiling at me. “Did you have fun tonight?”

  He lifts me back up and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. “I had an amazing time. I was surrounded by great friends and family, plus I was with the love of my life.”

  Ian walks into the kitchen and takes out a bottle of Ace of Spades. It’s one of the most expensive champagnes in the world and Ian naturally has a few dozen bottles, though most of them are for his restaurants. He pops it open and pours two glasses.

  “To my future wife,” he hands me a glass, “to my everything.”

  I lightly gasp and I feel my eyes water. “You’re my everything, baby.” We clink glasses and take sips. The champagne is light and fruity, with notes of peach. It’s already my new favorite.

  We walk over to the sofas and I settle into his body as he relaxes. Feeling his body pressed against mine is every bit of fantasy I could ever want. I feel the soft thumping of his heartbeat. The calmness of his breathing. The relaxation of his mind as his body is more at ease.

  It oddly feels like the calm before the storm.

  I push the thoughts out of my mind. I’ll deal with Ian’s meltdown when it comes. Now, I just want to relax with my fiancée and enjoy the rest of our evening.

  “Why were you getting the ring appraised?”

  His question jars me out of my chill AF mood. I honestly had forgotten I told him about how I’ve met Kwesi. “I wanted to insure it.” I reply.

  “It’s already insured, angel.” He sips his champagne.

  “I didn’t know that but I wanted to insure it myself. I was also looking at getting a cheaper ring in case I had to close up late at the shop.” I reply.

  “You have Courtney,” he calmly replies, “I’m paying her a lot of money to ensure your safety at all times.”

  I set my glass down and turn to him. “Are you mad?”

  He stares back at me with the same relaxed look from before. “No. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

  My mind travels back to that fateful day in the jewelry store. I didn’t leave with any pieces of jewelry I wanted but I couldn’t help but to remember how Kwesi stood behind me and stared at me through the mirror. It felt like he was looking through me, reading my soul, and placing his stamp on my heart.

  Then again, he’s a prince. I’m sure he’s done with a lot of other girls and I was just the lucky one at the time. I just don’t like how there’s still an impact on me.

  “So what was that thing about at the gala tonight?” I glance down at the engagement ring. “You didn’t want to make an announcement for a while.”

  “I still don’t,” he admits, “but I wanted him to know you’re going to be a Ferguson.”

  “He knows that already. I told him.”

  “There’s a difference between knowing something,” he takes another sip of champagne, “and making sure you’re never going to forget it.”

  The message was subtle but loud and clear to Kwesi – back off. No room for misinterpretation of that.

  “How are you feeling?” He asks me. “Are my actions making you uncomfortable?”

  “No,” I look
up at him. I’m surprised to still see the smile in his eyes. Now I just have to keep them there for the remainder of the month. “I’m still getting used to the Ian treatment.”

  “The Ian Treatment?” He replies with a bemused chuckle. “And what is that?”

  The ring. The quiet excess. My black ass on the slopes. “All of this,” I softly gesticulate. “I’ve never been spoiled like this so it’s brand new to me.”

  “Get used to it.” It comes out as a directive, though it feels more like a warning. “I will give you everything you want.”

  The question is on the tip of my tongue. The one thing I want more than anything is here. But I’m not sure if that’s something Ian is willing to give to me, at least not yet. I briefly think if this would be the right time to ask him to finally put me on the deed of the townhome, to make it our home, and not just some place where I’m an extended guest. I want that more than the fancy rock on my finger or the privilege of being a Ferguson will bring to me.

  If the world is truly ours, if I can have everything I want, then Ian shouldn’t have a problem with me having ownership of his home, too.

  If he does have an issue with that, then everything he just told me was bullshit. I’m willing to walk away from it all. “And what do you want in return?”

  The room is silent for a brief moment and I faintly hear the air conditioner running. Ian finally answers. “Loyalty.”

  It was an answer I wasn’t expecting. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what I was expecting to hear from him. He could’ve named a laundry list of what he wanted and expected from me starting from appearance and working his way down to how I should perform in the bedroom.

  But he didn’t. One word. Three syllables. Then again, Ian was always a man of few words. He didn’t like to repeat himself and made sure he was understood the first time.

  “I can do that,” I sip champagne, “so, what do you want to do tonight? The night is still young unless you have to get up early tomorrow?”

  “I always have to get up early but I can always make time for the most important person in my life,” he finally sets down the empty glass of champagne and I quickly follow suit. “there is something I do want to try tonight.”

  “Oh?” I’m a little drunk and I hope all of this liquor inside me makes me ready for whatever Ian has in mind. “What is it?”

  Ian stands up and holds his hand out to me. I grab it and I follow him back to our bedroom. He stands behind me and wraps his arms around me. “Angel…” His voice is a breathy whisper. “…you’re so beautiful.”

  I love how Ian does foreplay. He makes love to my mind and then my body. It’s always been like this and I hope it never stops. “Thank you, baby.”

  He rubs his hands up and down my arms as he studies my face. I watch his eyes as they travel to various parts of my body – my toes, my legs, my navel, my breasts – and back up to my eyes. “I want to see you masturbate tonight.”

  My eyes widen. Masturbation was a sticky (pardon the pun) subject between us and it was clear Ian wanted me to explore my body more without his assistance. I kinda wanted to explore it without him seeing it first, but I guess I’m making my spectacular masturbation debut right fucking now?

  Ian’s gaze holds mine. “You never tried masturbating?”

  I felt his words in my core, the heat in my belly, and the intensity of his blue eyes as they focused on mine. I’m not ashamed I’d never done it; I’m sure a lot of women haven’t.

  I grew up with the thought of doing so was unpure, nasty, and potentially harmful. Classy and educated women didn’t masturbate. Those who did would be out in the streets, jumping at anything that walked past them. I didn’t want to bring shame to my family or somehow destroy the Kimbrough name by doing so, so I’d never attempted.

  It wasn’t that I wanted to. I read enough trashy e-books to get my fill there and very few of them had the heroine masturbating, so I thought women just didn’t do it. Those who did do it, were sex experts. I was definitely not that.

  Ian was willing to teach me everything he knew and then some. I had no reason to be afraid and for some odd reason, I felt a bit empowered by his boldness. “No, I haven’t,” I quietly answered.

  “I want you to,” his voice matched mine. “Now. In front of me.”

  I swallowed. Twice. “Now?”

  “You liked it when I did it to you, yes?” He asked. “I want to see what you look like when you give yourself that same pleasure.” He stands behind me and slowly unzips the gown. He pulls down my body, caressing it along the way and helps me step out of it.

  Ian slowly removes the expensive La Perla thong but leaves the pantyhose and garter belt on me, along with the bra. I feel the coldness of the air conditioning on my heated sex, and my body responds. Desire races throughout my body like a maze, and unrelenting pleasure takes over. I look at him through the full-length mirror in our bedroom, and his intense eyes are fixated on mine.

  He’s not just watching me; he’s studying my reaction, my every movement, and bidding his time on what he should do next. He wants me to become more open for him, more exposed and vulnerable. To be willing and eager for the experience, no matter how scary it could be.

  We’ve played the roles since we’ve been a part of each other’s lives – he leads and I follow. Except now, he wants me to lead. He wants me to show him where it feels good. He wants me to show him how I give myself pleasure, how I make my toes curl, how I can myself scream out in orgasm.

  Could I? Could I really do such an intimate act?

  “You knew what you were doing, though.” I weakly reply.

  The thought frightens me. It sounds silly to think I had no problem doing a pole dance in front of millions around the world. I share a bit of my world on Instagram every day. But the thought of masturbating…doing such a private act in front of my lover?

  I don’t know.

  Ian kisses the back of my legs and I go weak as they softly buckle. He wraps his arms around my body to keep me from falling as he moves upward. He places two small kisses on each cheek before moving to the small of my back. His tongue traces up my spine and finally and the small of my neck, my weak spot.

  “No, I didn’t,” he purrs in my ear, and softly nibbles on it. I close my eyes and lean back against him while his hands slither all over my body. “I didn’t know if you would like me playing with your pussy. I do, now.” He stops kissing my ear and my eyes open. I meet his eyes in the mirror staring back at us. His right hand travels to my sex and cups it, feeling the soft thumping against his palm. “What are you afraid of?”

  The question stunned me. He read my thoughts, knew my heart, and my heart is racing. Masturbate? In front of Ian? “I-I-I don’t know how or where to start.”

  Ian takes my hand and leads me to the bed. He lays me down and stands over me. “Pretend I’m not here,” he begins.

  “That’s kinda hard since I know you’re right there.” I mention.

  Ian walks over to a nearby drawer and grabs a blindfold. He slides it over my eyes. “Now you won’t be so distracted.”

  I gulp. I only hear my pounding heartbeat and the sound of the AC. I’m getting performance anxiety and this isn’t good. “I need music,” I say. “I can’t do this on my own without anything.”

  “Any requests?” He answers.

  “Something slow and sexy,” I reply, “something that would make my hands perform.”

  Ian chuckles. “It’s not a performance, angel. If you can’t do this, I’ll be glad to help you.” He turns on some music and I’m pleased to hear “Father Figure.” “Is this a good a choice?”

  The song describes our relationship to a tee. I’m not sure if that was an intentional choice on Ian’s part. “That’ll work. Thank you, baby.”

  I feel the synthesizer and keyboard permeate my body, followed by the haunting bass line that reminds me of a heartbeat. I forget Ian is in the room as my hands explore my body like never before.

  My breasts are
pillow-soft and full. My nipples are hardened from just thinking about what I’m going to do. My tummy is a little round, but not flabby. My mound has a small patch of hair on it. My pussy is warm, wet, and eager.

  I spread my legs and bare myself all to Ian. He’s never seen me like this nor have I ever been like this. So open and so wide, as he watches me.

  My fingers are clumsy and shake a little. Am I really doing this? Is this really happening? How would I know how to rub myself just right? What if my nails hurt when I insert them?

  The song’s chorus stirs something inside of me and I feel my pearl peeking through my wet slit. I take two fingers to my lips and briefly wet them, lightly sucking on them before taking them back down to my sex.

  I circle around it and my body responds, by first a soft jerk, then relaxation. My fingers quickly work to keep up with the haste tempo of the chorus. My body rides the wave of ecstasy building inside me.

  My free hand caresses my other body parts, working its way up to my nipples and softly pinches both of them. I slightly bite my finger before I insert it inside my mouth, pretending it’s Ian delicious cock.

  Pressure billows my core as heat spreads throughout my body. This orgasm is coming hard and fast. My mouth gasps and soft moans come out as I don’t try to control them. My body begins to shudder and shake as my fingers circle faster and faster.

  The orgasm rips through my body like a harsh current. I scream at the top of my lungs, as my body is lightly covered with sweat and collapse back down on the bed. It’s another out of body experience for me and I’m completely spent.

  Ian joins me on the bed and kisses my forehead just as the song ends.

  Seven

  “Have I told you how sexy you look with glasses?”

  I’m trying to focus on buying some more property and I have my eye on an apartment building up for sale in Inglewood. Ian’s in the kitchen experimenting and we’re leaving each other be with only Luther Vandross’ “At Christmas Time” between us.

  It’s like we fell into a tried and true routine – I do work while he’s cooking. Sometimes, it’s reversed. But it’s a familiarity I’ve longed for when my world seemed to change every few moments. Just a few years ago, I was a high school student. Just two years ago, I graduated from college.