“I’m not sure I have satisfactory answers,” he warned. “My cousin directed me to the club because he said I looked stressed. After I was approved, I just asked… what they had for that.”
My eyes went wide. “You asked… what they had for stress?”
“I sure damn did,” he chuckled. “And… they gave me suggestions for some shit to try. So I tried it. Nothing quite clicked until I saw you from across the room though.”
“How romantic.”
“Hey, you’re playing, but… I’m serious. It was in your eyes, and I just knew – you were the missing piece.”
I pushed out a sigh, tamping down the little butterflies that statement set off in my belly. The connection between us made for excellent sex, sure.
But that was it.
Nothing more.
“It’s funny to me,” I spoke, after a brief pause in the conversation as our food and beverages were delivered. “How I wound up being the cause and the cure for what ailed you. Unless you’re going to tell me that review didn’t send you running to request me at the club?”
“Oh nah, that shit definitely stressed me into needing some relief – more than once,” Dre chuckled, the warmth of it sending a tingle of… something down to my toes. “I don’t feel like those two things are in opposition though. Your ability to frustrate me into needing relief… and also providing it. Plus you’re fucking beautiful. Intelligent. Funny. Total package.”
I almost choked on a mouthful of plantain, and had to take a big gulp of water to clear my airway.
“Hold up,” I said, when I could breathe again. “I know you’re not… are you… pitching me? Like as in, something beyond what we do at the club?”
“Would that be a problem?”
I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. “I… I guess not necessarily. But why though?”
“Do you think you’re not interesting, or attractive?”
I frowned. “I know I’m both of those things. But we already have… an arrangement. And I’m sure you have more appropriate dating prospects. I’ve seen the women you dated in the past, Dre.”
“So you looked me up?”
“I sure as hell did. Is that a problem?”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t want a woman who could help herself.”
Hm.
On one hand, I got what he was saying – and doing, with flipping my own words back on me. On the other hand, as much as I wanted a man to be all about me in a healthy way… that healthy part was key.
I hoped he had the same idea.
And that none of those socialites and starlets he’d been attached to were obsessed with his ass.
I mean… why wouldn’t they be?
Dre was fine, and successful, and… walking around with the kinda dick that could drive any woman at least a lil’ bit crazy.
I was thinking about him a little too much my damn self.
Already.
This had never been an issue before I knew who he was – before he had a name.
Before he’d been inside me.
“You’re thirty-six, right?” I asked, even though I damn well knew the answer to that already. “I would expect you to already be settled down with some undercover freak from a nice family.”
“I’m sitting across from her right now,” he countered, then tore the meat off one of the jerk chicken wings with his teeth.
For some reason, even that was endearing – he wasn’t doing anything special, just… fucking eating. Enjoying it.
There was actually a sauce stain on what was undoubtedly an expensive tie, and he hadn’t even noticed it yet – and when he did, he wouldn’t fly off the deep end about the shit either.
Obviously, I was comparing him to my ex.
Which was kinda unfair, I guess.
Jaylan and Andre were similar in a lot of ways – driven to the point of being uptight, demanding, particular. The difference was – or at least seemed to be, so far – Dre knew when to let it go.
“You think I’m from a good family?”
“I think your father is a renowned pitmaster who literally wrote the books about grilling and smoking meats. Aiden uses his methods at 81C. He helped your mother create and produce a whole line of marinades and sides, all that. Y’all were downright adorable in your matching pajamas for Christmas this past year,” Dre said, laying out his receipts and then looking at me, waiting for a response.
“Fine. You got me,” I admitted. “I’m barbecue royalty.”
“Wow. That’s really how you’re going to phrase it?”
I nodded. “It is. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Forgive me – you’re distractingly sexy,” he said, leaning across the table. “Remind me of the question?”
“Why do you need this,” I repeated to him, making a point of articulating every word carefully. “This dynamic, with me. What were you looking for?”
“Somebody else to be the one with the answers,” he said, simply. “Somebody else to make the decisions, to tell me what to do. Somebody else to hold the reins. That’s the responsibility I carry every damn day, all damn day. Sometimes… I just need a break. Respite. Thank you for stepping into that role.”
I blinked. “Oh. Um…you’re welcome. Thank you for trusting me with it.”
He swiped his tongue over his lips as he stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “You’re welcome.”
I… wasn’t sure what shifted between us, from there, but we were pretty damn comfortable. He got offended when I tried to pay for my own meal, and when I revealed that I lived too close by for it to make sense to call a car… he insisted on walking me home.
It wasn’t a long walk, which made the quiet that settled over us not so awkward. At the steps of my building, we just looked at each other. I didn’t know what to say – I was thinking too much.
I wanted him to come upstairs with me.
With everything we’d already done, it seemed like a simple thing, but… everything we’d already done made it not so simple. It was never supposed to get here, with him walking me home after laughing over dinner – we were never even supposed to share names. With the exception of that little impromptu office scene, every sexual encounter between us had occurred at the club.
We had a specific vibe, specific roles to fill for each other.
But I wasn’t feeling any of that right now.
I just… wanted him to come upstairs.
None of the extra shit, as much as I enjoyed it.
I’d just had a really good time on a date, and wanted to let it go further.
How the hell was I supposed to know if he was thinking the same?
“I was serious about what I said earlier,” he spoke up, once it was clear I’d lost my ability to speak. “Eat with you… then eat you. It was kind of a whole thing.”
I smiled. “Oh, was it? I don’t think you said it quite like that.”
“Semantics,” he shrugged, stepping closer to me. “Let’s just get straight to the point – are you inviting me up, or not?”
“I am. But,” I said, then took a deep breath. “If you come up here with me, I… don’t wanna do what we do at the club.”
His eyebrows went up. “Oh. What, you want me to make sweet gentle love to you, and cuddle afterward,” he teased, wrapping his arms around me in a way that… shit.
“What, exactly, would be wrong with that?” I asked, shifting in his hold to meet his gaze with a raised eyebrow of my own.
“Nothing,” he said, a smile gracing his lips as he shook his head. “Why aren’t you getting out your keys?”
6
Andre
She was a bit of a slob.
I hadn’t noticed it last night, since we’d been otherwise occupied, but now that my internal alarm clock had woken me at six in the morning, and Drew was still asleep, there was basically nothing else for me to focus on.
Drew was… messy.
Which was, for me, quite a revelation.
>
There wasn’t like dirty laundry or trash strewn about, but the chair in the corner was piled with clothes – shirts on one arm, bottoms on the other, dresses across the back. Her closet door was open, so I could clearly see the available space where those things could’ve gone. She just hadn’t put them there.
The same with the shoes tossed against the wall – haphazard, but in their pairs. In the bathroom, her products were… all over the place, activating my personal urge for order. But as I stared at it all, while I relieved myself, it struck me that there was order.
Nothing was missing a cap.
None of the bottles were open.
The shelves right there where these things were supposed to go were painfully empty, but the crowded counter was organized.
Skincare, dental care – I grabbed a swig of mouthwash since it was right there in my purview -, hair care.
Everything had a section.
The shit was fascinating.
So much so that I went exploring, taking note of how this phenomenon played out in the other areas of the apartment she called home. But it wasn’t until I reached the kitchen that finally, I got it.
There were all kinds of snack bags and boxes on the counters, instead of put away in the pantry.
Each of the bags was neatly rolled and clipped for freshness.
When I opened a box of crackers and peeked inside, I found the same thing with the bag inside of there.
This wasn’t careless.
She wasn’t messy.
She was in control.
Our conversation from last night about her ex popped into my mind – her tidbits about how particular and critical he’d been. I could imagine – maybe because it grated at me too – him constantly on her back about putting things away, things being organized according to his convenience or standards. Especially if they’d lived together.
But hell… even if they had… I could learn to live with this, probably, now that I realized my initial impression of chaos wasn’t that at all. Maybe she just liked things in front of her, easily accessible, whatever.
This was what worked for her – what made her comfortable.
Why the hell would I try to suppress that?
So you’re moving in together now nigga? Is that where your mind is right now?
No.
Nope.
Not at all.
I was, admittedly, feeling Drew a little – a lot – more than expected beyond our erotic romps at the club, but imagining what I would do if I lived with her… was doing a lot.
A whole lot.
So instead of letting my imagination run down that trail, I shifted my focus to where it was every morning at this time – breakfast. Fixing it for myself was part of my everyday routine, so I padded over to her fridge, hoping I could scrounge together enough for something for both of us instead of having to order something.
“Well shit,” I mumbled to myself, once the fridge light popped on, baring the contents to me. “Scrounging” something together was not going to be a problem.
The inside of the fridge was like something from… a perfectly curated social media post, like the couple I’d seen on her feed and promptly wrote off. I’d assumed they were styled specifically for the picture, but nah – Drew’s fridge was colorfully stocked with everything I might need.
Honestly, it kinda put mine to shame.
I was gonna have to ask her for some tips.
In the meantime though, I turned the oven on and pulled out the ingredients to make a simple baked veggie frittata – a dish Aiden had taught me a few months ago. I’d just slipped it into the oven when I heard the soft pad of footsteps behind me, and looked up to find a sleepy-looking Drew coming into the kitchen.
“It’s hella early,” she complained, making a big production of yawning and stretching in the itty-bitty robe she’d put on. Her eyes were low, but I could tell she’d washed her face and probably brushed her teeth too – the line of drool she’d been sporting when I left her bed was gone.
I didn’t say anything, just moved to the sink to tend to the dishes I’d used in the process of making breakfast. She moved to the counter, taking a seat at the bar to watch me.
“You’re one of those rise n’ grind people, aren’t you?”
I grinned at that little jab, but… I had to nod too. “Maybe. I take it you like to sleep in a little later?”
She held up her hands to gesture as she spoke. “Just a little. I like to make it the office before nine.”
“That’s not too bad – I’m usually at mine around seven-thirty.”
“Ah,” she nodded. “So that’s why you’re in my kitchen making… whatever you’re making, at this time of morning. I’ve gotta admit… when I woke up alone, I thought you’d snuck outta here.”
“It’s a frittata,” I told her. “And… I don’t sneak. I do have to leave though. After breakfast.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned across the counter, her ample cleavage spilling out of that robe. “You sure?”
Shit.
That was all it took for my dick to lead me around the counter to where she was seated.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked, unbelting the robe, opening it to get a full view of the splendor of her nude body underneath.
She grinned. “Doing what?”
“Looking this damn good, that’s what.”
Drew bit down on her lip, eyelids fluttering closed as I pinched her nipples between my fingers. Even with her eyes closed, she expertly guided my dick from my boxers, gripping with both hands.
I glanced at the timer I’d set on the oven, and made a quick calculation in my head.
Then, I grabbed her under the thighs to pull her up to the counter.
We had time.
Drew’s legs locked around my waist as I guided myself into her pussy, relishing her slick, wet heat like it was the very first time. Her hands went to the back of my head, dragging my mouth down to hers as I started moving.
This was exactly the shit we were not supposed to be doing.
Slow, sensual, morning-after fucking while breakfast was in the oven wasn’t part of our arrangement, but… it sure as hell felt good. Starting the morning between Drew’s legs, her nails raking my scalp as we kissed like star-crossed lovers… I wasn’t prepared to explore the implications of how organic it all felt.
So I didn’t.
Instead, I focused on the moment, on the way her pussy clenched with each stroke, on her little moans and whines of pleasure, on the way she grabbed at me, trying to pull me deeper, and closer.
I wanted that too.
But we were already as close as we could get, despite our attempts otherwise.
In more ways than one, it felt like we were in this as deep as we could go.
I’d forgotten about the state of my office.
It wasn’t until I was walking in, with Lincoln and Braxton in tow, that I remembered Drew sweeping all the shit off my desk to get my attention – even though she already had it.
With the context of her ex now though… I halfway wondered if it was more of a test to gauge my reaction than anything else.
I couldn’t think about that right now though.
“Damn nigga,” Braxton jeered, stepping in to peer at the mess of files, stress-relieving knickknacks, and my damn laptop on the ground. “You get pissed off and turn into the Hulk or something?”
Shaking my head, I went over to start gathering everything back up. “Nah. Pissed a woman off.”
“That makes sense,” he nodded, grabbing a couple of things to help.
Lincoln though, was still at the doorway, his face twisted in confusion. “Yeah… maybe for Addi. Or hell, even Aiden. I expect them to be dealing with volatile women, but you?”
“She’s not volatile,” I defended, even though… I wasn’t sure that was true. But still. “It was more like… part of our vibe, I guess.”
Now that the mess was up off the
floor, Braxton dropped into a seat across from the desk, chuckling. “I’m reading between the lines to understand that you had some broad in here roleplaying crazy? The same one you had bragging about your dick on Instagram?”
“I’ma bust Addison in his shit,” I laughed, knowing that was the only way our cousins knew the details of that. “But… Yes, it was her.”
“That’s not a sustainable business model, cuz,” Braxton warned, while his twin remained at the door, open-mouthed. “You can’t fuck every fine woman trying to take your business down.”
I scoffed. “Every? Boy you put a ring on the only woman that happened with,” I teased, bringing up his recent engagement to Eden Frazier. They’d been together a while – longer than I thought Braxton was even capable of, but apparently he was smitten. But… his fiancé had used some pretty heavily criminal activity to get his attention, so I could only imagine she was more than capable of holding his interest.
From the doorway, Lincoln snapped his fingers, pointing at me like he’d just realized something. “You went to the club, didn’t you? No wonder you’re so damn calm,” he laughed, but I shot his ass a look too.
“You’d know, wouldn’t you? Since your ladies were a criminal duo.”
“Ay,” Lincoln chuckled, tossing his hands up as he closed the door and joined us over at the desk. “The past is the past, and if they hadn’t been scamming Braxton… we’d have never known love.”
Braxton smacked his teeth. “How is your corny ass my twin, wow.”
“Speaking the truth isn’t corny, motherfucker,” Lincoln said. “And Dre should be thanking my corny ass for sending him to the club. Look at this motherfucker,” he jeered. “He was stomping around here like a supervillain until I passed that address his way. Now his balls so light he’s damn near levitating.”
“We’re supposed to be talking about revamping the dining options in the Drake properties here in Blackwood, I thought?” I spoke up, ready now to change the damn subject. It was all in fun, sure, and I knew they didn’t mean any harm, but I wasn’t feeling downplaying Drew to somebody whose only purpose was… the emptying of my balls.
Controlled Chaos Page 5
