by Zane
His fingers gripped and held on to her for dear life as he took her to the edge of reason, then tipped her into a pleasure-filled oblivion.
Niyah thanked God, Yahweh, Jesus, Yashua, Allah, Buddha, Confucius—covering all the bases—for any and every number of reasons, and maybe even ventured as far as speaking in tongues for a few minutes. She damn near blacked out, but her body and mind held on—unwilling to miss a second of his touch, a second of his feel, a second of release only this particular dance could provide.
Her fingers laced in his dark, curly hair, then trailed down his back, resting on the base of his spine. A slow descent down the smooth curve of his tight ass only incited her more.
She moaned as her thighs lifted, wrapping around him tightly, shaking with every thrust, following as his rhythm increased. The tempo became driving, almost animalistic—branding—pure ownership. “This is mine, this is mine, mine—all mine,” he whispered into her ear.
She couldn’t agree more.
Several hours later as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, her back began protesting against the hardwood floor. As she stood to take the party to a softer place, every part of her body ached and felt good at the same time.
He stood and watched her walk up the stairs. She turned just in time to see him pick up his work clothes, holding them steadily in his hands, as he held her gaze for what seemed like forever. Neither spoke. She thought of what happened and for a split second she believed she’d used him, and felt a twinge of regret—but only for a second.
Finally, Mario realized she would remain silent, and he slowly lowered his jeans, with his briefs still tucked inside, and stuck one leg in.
He was never one to press her for more than she wanted to give, and she realized that this time wouldn’t be any different. She always admired that about him.
Telling herself that she had already messed up a three-month sexual fast, she might as well do it all the way. As she watched him get dressed to leave, she extended her hand.
“Mario, come upstairs with me.”
She could repent tomorrow.
He halted, searching her eyes, wondering if she meant it.
She nodded.
He dropped the rest of his clothes and took the steps two at a time. As he embraced her again, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close as possible, savoring the scent of sex surrounding him. It felt so right. Absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder, it made the dick get stronger and the sex last longer. No lie!
Mario kissed her passionately as he carried her to the bed. This time his lovemaking was so intense that letting herself flow with him took away her sense of reasoning. They made love until the orgasms caused a three-second blackout—pleasure overload. That had never happened before. Mario wasn’t bullshitting this time, not one single bit.
After they burned every last ounce of energy, they slept. And for the first time in months the sleep was hard and dreamless, comforting and safe.
She couldn’t walk the next morning, and to tell the truth, neither could he. They missed work that day. The next day they established a comforting routine of making love, then falling into more comalike sleep.
Niyah wanted enough memories that would last until…when?
On the second day of missing work, they finally came up for air. They showered together before she fixed a hearty breakfast. Mario always had a healthy appetite. That morning, since she was equally famished, she almost made a career out of cooking. Meanwhile, the man could barely keep his hands off her, wanting to hold her or kiss her every chance he got, and making her giggle like a little girl, showing her at every possible turn how much he had missed her.
Feeling lighter and refreshed, Niyah had to admit it—she had missed him, too. She didn’t feel so—lost? Unsettled? Alone? He felt good to her. Just him holding her was right. And it wasn’t just the sex—it was Mario being…there.
After their two-day makeup marathon, they ate, then talked and talked. Well, mostly he talked, having so much to say that all she could do was listen. And that, too, was unlike him. She had known him for his quiet strength and reliability. He told her everything that happened during the three months they were apart, but it was his last words that got her attention: “Baby, don’t send me away again. Let’s talk about making this work. Let’s talk about what bothers you so much about me.” He reached out, gently stroking her face, his finger trailing a fiery path. “I love you.”
Mario never said anything he didn’t mean. And she knew for certain that he meant those three words.
No words came to her mind to say she felt the same. He opened his mouth to speak, but she tried to interrupt, preparing to halt any further words of love. “Mario, I just don’t think—”
“No, Niyah,” he said sharply. “Listen to me for a change. I’ve had enough of how you’ve sidestepped the real issues here. We need to find some common ground. I need to get some things out in the open. This time you will not brush me off. You will listen.”
Holding her hands, his tenor voice was strong, sure, and his manner kept her a willing prisoner. This was a first for her. She was normally the one to say what would and would not happen. Evidently things were about to change. She didn’t know how she felt about that.
As he gazed into her eyes, he almost dared her to disagree. She felt a little flustered, and opened her mouth to say something, testing his strength. She didn’t get a sound past her lips as he leaned forward, circling his tongue in the opening and silencing anything she had to say.
When he pulled away, Niyah was a little miffed, but she also secretly admired what he was doing. She’d always taken pride in her stubbornness, so she prepared to say something anyway. This time he leaned forward, kissing her even more passionately until she couldn’t think straight, then he pulled away once more.
He watched her. Dared her.
She sighed, but remained silent, brewing a little, but respecting him and his wishes. He didn’t rant and rave the way some people did when they wanted to get their message across. Mario used a calmer method to get her attention and make his point. The corners of his mouth drew up into a slight smile as he watched her frustration.
Taking several deep breaths, she remained silent, waiting.
His smile widened as he pulled her even closer. His deep, resonating voice penetrated her heart.
“Respect, Niyah. That’s all I ask.” He took a long, slow breath. “I didn’t want to pressure you and I almost made a mistake. I’m not going to let it happen again.”
Pulling away, he placed his finger under her chin, gently lifting it until her eyes met his. “I will not make that mistake again.” His voice sent shivers up and down her spine.
She wanted to say something, but thought better of it. His kisses were dangerous and effective.
After a few moments, he pulled away, sprinting to his clothes. He searched through them until he found a small velvet box. He opened it, turned it around, and handed it to her.
A ring! Beautiful. God, it was beautiful!
“It’s real,” he said as she stared at it, mesmerized by it.
When she didn’t reply, something in his expression crumbled. He dropped his shoulders and looked away.
“I’ll get you something better if you don’t…like this one.”
All she could do was shake her head and stare at the size of that diamond. She knew it had taken a few of his paychecks to buy. She knew exactly how much he made. A few times, in between layoffs, his entire paycheck came her way. She never had to ask. He would just say, “Take what you need. It’s a gift, not a loan.”
She didn’t love him, didn’t want to play with him or his emotions. She’d done enough of that already. Every time she got on her feet again, she returned every penny, but he always found a way to get the money back into the house one way or another—paying her bills ahead of time, buying things for the house, or for her.
Mario was a good person, but the only thing they had in common was great sex. He
wasn’t as educated as she thought her man should be—he had only a high school diploma. She had never considered him permanent mate material. She had been comfortable with the way things were, and saw no reason to change—until her need for religion took over.
Glancing at him, she thought about his proposal. She thought about him: handsome, so very handsome, sweet, kind, loving, and passionate. She felt a sharp pain pierce her heart. She couldn’t take his ring. He deserved her honesty.
“Mario, I care for you, but I can’t say that it’s more than that.”
He crooked his mouth into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“I know that, baby,” he said, stroking her face gently. “I know you try to keep it that way. You’ve never talked to me about your true feelings, or even tried to explore what we have. I still want to be with you. It’ll be all right. You’ll love me in your way. It’s only a matter of time.”
Amazed at his determination, she silently studied this gorgeous, generous man.
“Niyah, you’re the only woman I’ve ever been with who treated me like I was worth something. I might not be the man you think you need, but for the last two years, I’ve been more than enough. You’ve shared some of your feelings, your good times and bad. You’ve shared yourself.” He smiled warmly, stroking his hands across hers. “I might not have a lot, but I would have the world if I had you.” Mario looked different as he poured his soul out to her, stating his case with confidence and strength.
Why didn’t she see that before in him? How had she missed it?
“Even though you’ve held back sometimes, you’ve always thought about what I wanted, too.” Mario kissed her gently on the lips. “I’ve been with other women. I know when a person tries to use me. You never did—even when I gave you everything I had. I know you even stopped mentioning when you needed help because you knew I wouldn’t take back the money.” He shrugged sadly. “It hurt me when you wouldn’t come to me. You know I would give you anything. I’ve always considered you my woman, not just someone I sleep with.”
She winced. Because she’d been trying so hard to keep her heart safe, that’s all she saw him as—a sex partner. The guilt washed over her. She wondered how often the man had looked at her, read her, understood her.
Mario glanced at her, taking in her grim expression, and lowered his gaze.
“Maybe you saw things differently, Niyah, but all I know is that you’ve shown me in many ways that you really care. And you give yourself to me in a way that’s pure…cielo.” Heaven! She looked away, but he softly turned her face toward him until she was looking deep into his dark brown eyes. “Helping you is the least I want to do for you. That’s what a man does for the woman he loves.”
Shocked and moved by his admission, she found it hard to breathe.
Mario placed his warm hand over the delicate curve of her fingers. “I want to show you something.” Pulling a slip of paper out of his pants pocket, he presented her with the receipt for the ring. Scanning the description, she noticed he had used Wite-Out on the price. She smiled. Mario wasn’t trying to impress her. That’s how he was. Simple, giving, and honest. He wanted her to see the date of the purchase—two years ago. He had been holding on to the ring for a long time—long before she decided to stop seeing him!
Speechless, overwhelmed with emotion, tears welled up in her eyes and overflowed down her cheeks in spite of her best efforts to keep them at bay. She wanted to pull away, but his embrace kept her in place. He brushed his lips gently across her cheeks, licking away the tears one by one, and reaching deep into her soul.
Slowly lowering to one knee, he kept her hands in his.
“Niyah, will you marry me? I understand how you feel. For a while I’ll just have to have enough love for the both of us. Anything you want is yours. I need you and I would be wrong if I didn’t fight for this, because I know deep down you need me, too.”
Her heart raced and hurt all at the same time. Her emotions wouldn’t allow her to speak or even whisper a single word.
Mario’s eyes were intent in their constant contact. “I never asked you before. I was afraid of what your answer would be.” His gaze lowered slowly. “If you said you wouldn’t marry me, it would prove you weren’t looking at me as a man—you only saw me for how good the sex was.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t ready to hear that. I wanted you to see that I could be so much more to you. At times I thought you did.”
He stood slowly, linking their hands. “Sometimes when I’m at work and I’m around all those other men—men who are supposed to be smarter, or who are older—I see and hear their unhappiness. They talk about how their wives and girlfriends don’t seem to love and respect them. But you’ve never been like that. You treat me with love and respect in the way you do things and how you talk to me. That’s all I ask.”
His piercing, dark brown eyes reached into her soul. “Before you stopped seeing me, you’d treat me like a husband: loving me, listening to me, caring for me, cooking dinner for me every night, making sure I had everything I needed for work.”
His beautiful smile tugged at her heart.
“You didn’t have to do that. But I needed it. I needed you.” He kissed the back of her hand, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. “It’s so hard to find a woman with the right combination of everything. I had to do this, Niyah. I had to make things right for us. You have always been…mi vida—my life.”
He wrapped his arms around her as she laid her head against the beat of his heart. His deep, resonating voice penetrated her soul.
“Baby, my apartment has been the loneliest place since you’ve sent me away. That’s why I’m here every night, standing outside, not trying to hurt you, not trying to stalk you. I’m only trying to make my way in. This is where my heart is. You’re holding it hostage. You always have, but you’ve been too stubborn to see it.” He began stroking her back.
“If you had another man, I could understand and I’d let this go. But just being in church isn’t a reason to push me away. Marry me and do whatever it takes to make you feel good in church. But don’t let this go—even God wants us to be happy.” He entwined his warm, strong fingers with hers. “Doesn’t it say somewhere in the Bible that we’re supposed to make a joyful noise and serve God with gladness and thanksgiving?”
She simply nodded.
“Well, you’ve been in church for the past three months and at night it doesn’t sound like you’re making a joyful noise. It sounds like you’re crying because you’re lonely and have an empty space right here,” he said, placing his hand gently over her heart. “Marry me and make me happy and I’ll make you happy. You can have two men in your life—God and me.” He smiled slyly. “I’m sure He won’t mind sharing just a part of you with me. That’s what He intended.”
She smiled as she thought about what Mario said. And how the simple things she did meant so much to him. She did them naturally because of his kindness and because he appreciated everything. When she placed a meal in front of him, he savored every bite, even the new dishes she tried strictly to please him. He enjoyed them mostly because she took the time to do it for him. The thought made her tremble as reality struck. She’d had to jump through hoops for other men—flaming hoops at that—and the relationships still never seemed to make her happy.
She realized that maybe the fact that she felt settled and more peaceful when Mario was with her said it might be something more. The everyday relationship was far from the fireworks she had experienced with other men, but those fireworks had made her do some foolish things, and she’d ended up unhappy anyway.
Sometimes a woman had to go for sparkle instead of fireworks; sparkle could stay consistent, fireworks died out. As Mario held her, she felt warm, loved, and complete. That sparkle was fast turning into pure dynamite!
She reached up to touch his face, fingers trembling as she tried to hide her emotions. “I’m scared, Mario. Really, really scared. This is so different than what I want. So different than what I�
�expected. I’m afraid and I don’t know how to stop being afraid.”
“You think that I’m not afraid, too? I see the looks that couples like us get on the street—brothers ready to tear me a new asshole because I’m with you. My people believe this is all about sex and that I couldn’t want more from you than that.”
He kissed her then.
She pulled away. “My family won’t agree with this and they—”
A single finger silenced her. “Your family’s not here right now. They don’t get a vote. Mine don’t get a vote. You do. We do. We say what’s right for us. ’Cause at the end of the day, when the door is closed and the outside world isn’t looking in—there’s only us.”
She took a minute to absorb that, then said, “But what if I want a man that’s already successful, not a man that’s just making it? My father and mother struggled all their lives.”
“Why does it have to be one person making that money? Why can’t it be something we build together? A business maybe?” He sighed, letting out a long, slow breath. “Six figures isn’t hard to make with a good plan. Keeping it is another story. It takes strength. It takes determination. It takes teamwork. I think we’d be a good team. Don’t you?”
She searched his eyes for a moment, as the real reason she had held back for so long came to the forefront. “Mario, I don’t know how to say this…”
“Just say it, baby. We’re laying it all on the line now.”
Niyah swallowed hard. “I probably won’t ever love you as much as you love me.”
He winced just a little, enough to know that she had hurt him again, then his sexy lips lifted in a small, bitter smile. “Has that ever really been the problem?” He kissed her fingertips. “Open your heart, Niyah, stop trying to find excuses. If it wasn’t me, it would be some other man you’d push away for the very same reason—or one like it.” Mario pulled her into him. “I won’t hurt you, mi vida. Hurting you would only be hurting myself.”
