by Love Belvin
“I swear to god. My grandparents were the coolest. The morning of my first date, I was like twelve and it was a small group of us going to the movies. But it was known most of us were little couples. My grandfather gave me a condom that morning. He told me he didn’t want me using it until I could tell him what a guy did to make my legs shake.”
Raj burst out laughing again, this time he looked freaked out.
“I know. And I was only twelve, so the implication went over my head. But I took it literally. He wasn’t encouraging sex. He was expanding the concept of it. By that time, I knew just about every STD and contraceptive out. He meant what he said. I was obedient, though. I never used that condom or any until my legs shook for the first time. By then, my grandparents had passed away.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured so gently.
He may have been the coldest son of a bitch when we first met, but this church boy had tact and etiquette.
“Don’t be. I know the rhythm of blues. Remember?” I tried smiling. “I know my grandparents’ approach to sexuality would have Pastor McKinnon flip her best wig.” He nodded and I laughed. My tone turned as soft, delicate, and as warm as the memory. “But they showed me what true love looks like. They were everything I needed.” I shrugged, my shoulders lifting high before dropping. “Anyways… Even though my leg-shake was delayed, when I was ready, I went for it.”
“And when was that?”
“About when I was fifteen.”
“I take it he was special.” He was fishing and I wasn’t used to it.
I’d grown accustomed to his indifference as far as I was concerned.
“In my fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—all the way until I was old enough to realize he wasn’t—year-old mind.”
“Damn. You were married.”
“No.” I laughed. “I just wasted a lot of time I can’t get back.”
Damn sure can’t…
“So, from that one dude, you gained ya whole bag of tricks?”
“My tricks come from my imagination.” I took a sip of my water. “But yeah. A lot of them were honed with him.” I pointed to the bottle of Mauve next to the vase. The topic was growing uncomfortable for me and I needed truth serum if I was going to play fair. “You mind?”
“Not at all.”
I stood to grab a glass from the kitchen a few feet away. “Want some?”
After a moment of delay, I heard behind me, “Why not.” It wasn’t posed as a question.
I was back in the dining room in a second when he picked up his interrogation. “That’s a lot of tricks for a young dude. I can’t front, my skills developed from being with a variety of women.”
I poured us both a glass. Right away I took a swig of the brown juice, appreciating the burn down my throat.
“I don’t think twenty-seven is young,” I remarked.
“Oh. Dude’s a year younger than you.” Raj followed suit, finally sipping the brandy.
“No. He’s forty-one.”
A sheet of sweet brown liquid spewed on my face and chest then he grabbed his throat as he choked on what was left.
“You okay?” I leaped to my feet to pat his hard back. Raj was bent over forward, trying to catch his breath. When he was able to nod, I was confident he’d regained his lungs. “Gotta be careful what you ask for, bud,” I teased, though I wasn’t expecting that reaction.
I hated talking about my past.
Thinking he needed help, I ambled into the kitchen to get wet towels, one for him and one for me. I was wiping my neck when I returned, handing one to him. My phone vibrated over the table. The last name I wanted to see flashed across the screen.
Mike Brown
Damn…
I tapped to take it then hit speaker so I could finish wiping brandy from my face and chest.
“Hello.”
“Fuck you been?” I couldn’t care less about his words, my skin crawled at the sound of his voice. “I been calling since yester-fuckin-day. Damn!”
Ragee’s head shot up and his face wrinkled in alarm.
I wanted to say, ‘Yeah. This is the type of treatment the contractor gets in your company!’ but I didn’t dare. It wasn’t wise to let Mike know we were here in Minneapolis, exchanging secrets.
“Sorry, chief. Been busy, traveling and getting dolled up, and all.”
“I ‘on’t even know what that all means, but I do know when I call, you need to answer.”
I closed my eyes, willing my patience.
“Is there a point to this call?”
“Is there a point to this call?” he huffed. “Hell, yeah. There’s a point whenever I call you. I’mma business man. I got better shit to do than call after random muthafuckas.”
I cocked my head to the side and pouted my lips before asking again, “And your point to these allegedly important calls was…”
“Smart ass,” he swore underneath his breath. “Make sure you get mad pix with TB’s wife. You know who dat is, yo?”
My curious eyes swept to Raj. His were on the phone as if Mike was there on the table himself. His mouth was open and jaw twisted in contemplation, it seemed. He couldn’t help me out with the TB answer, too stuck on Mike.
“No.”
“Raj’ll tell you. That’s Trent Bailey, the quarterback of the Kings. Make sure you get pix with his wife. She been in the blogs lately for her new baby, and shit. People wanna know what they baby look like. They been hiding it. TB go to Raj’s church. That connection could help us out with solidifying this shit. Got it?”
I frowned, trying to keep up with his fast paced orders.
“I guess.”
“Man, just remember to get lots of shots with Jade Bailey. She a short cutie with hazel eyes. You can’t miss her, she dat little. Ask Raj to point her out. Ask for a selfie if ain’t no paparazzi around outside the party tonight. She gone be at the first one y’all hit. Don’t. Fuckin. Forget.”
“Okay.” I shook my head, frustrated already. “Got it.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed that quickly.
“Where Raj at, yo?”
My eyes shot to him and saw he was still staring at the phone. I was looking for a cue from him, but nothing.
“You want me to get him?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Hold on.”
I muted the phone and looked to Raj.
His eyes remained on the table when he asked, “He always coming at you like that?”
I snorted, finding that question comical. “Until he pushes too far. But yeah, this is us.” I stood from my chair, going to put my finished dishes back on the room service cart for pick up.
Raj tapped the mute button. “Yeah.”
“What up, nigga?” Mike’s tone was one hundred percent more amicable, though I knew he was frustrated with Raj, too. Raj didn’t respond. After a while, Mike caught on. “I just wanted to know if you was good.”
“I’m good.” His response curt.
“Yeah. I know having her around ain’t where it’s at, but we getting shit done, my nigga. I just told her what it is for tonight. Get camera time with The Flash Johnson tonight. He supposed to be at both them parties. Make sure you hit TB’s suite tomorrow, too.”
“I ain’t going,” thick chords pushed out.
My neck snapped too fast to look into the dining room.
“You ain’t going to Super Bowl?” Mike asked just as alarmed as me.
Raj casually wiped his face with the wet towel then answered, “Nah. Tonight. I ain’t going.”
“The hell, Raj? They said you ain’t show to the lunch thing today either.”
Ragee took his time answering that, too. “Been in a creative zone all day. It is what it is, man.”
This time, Mike didn’t come back right away. Even he needed a minute to process it.
“Look…” Raj started.
“Wait up, man—”
“I gotta get back to what I was into. I ain’t taking her back the phone. You gone need to call her back.”
&n
bsp; He tapped to end the call.
“Such a fucking douche. I really hate that dude,” I groaned gutturally. “And I’m indifferent to most assholes, so I have a pretty high threshold for them.” Raj didn’t respond. He sat quietly with his eyes to the table. “I’m sorry. I know that’s your boy and all, but he’s pure evil. I picked that up from him on day two.” I leaned against the wall. “I didn’t pick it up on day one because I was kind of drunk when he encountered me with this opportunity.” I shook my head, filled with regret. “He’s the devil. Trust me, I recognize the devil. I’ve cut a deal with him twice in my life. Mike Brown was the second time.”
Still he said nothing. The air around us had changed since that call. And now that we weren’t going out to those parties, things felt awkward.
“Well,” I took a deep breath, pushing from the wall to stand straight. “I meant what I said.”
“We gonna finish this drink or what?” he rasped, one leg extended under the table and an elbow on top where he flicked his fingers.
“I guess so, now that I know we’re not going back out.” I moved for the table. “Why not drink the last of my deals with the devil away? No more deals for me. Pastor McKinnon’ll make sure of it.” I plopped back into my seat and raised my tumbler.
Raj snorted with a smirk then he met my glass with a clink.
16
She’s a savage…
Everything about her was amazing. That was all I could think as she bounced up and down from my lap. She used her muscles to squeeze and lift from my thighs that were between hers. The structure in her shoulders were more defined than I’d seen them, the curvature from her waist to her hips was outlined in the glow of the blazing fire in front of us.
I sat back on the couch and watched Wynter ride me reverse cowgirl style to the strings of an Ameerah cut.
“So you really like her?” Wynter asked earlier when I hit play on the recent album L.I.T. Music put out.
“I told you. She’s dope.”
“It’s a violin. That’s sad, not sexy.”
“It’s string—more than a violin, and you’re sexy. That’s all I need.”
That’s when her eyes lit with a passion I was learning had been a hidden talent of my wife.
“That simple, huhn?” The slant in her eyes from being tipsy appealed to me more than I wanted her to know.
“What’s your favorite position?”
She bit her lip before giggling. “I have more than one.”
“What’s your least favorite?”
She spit air from her mouth. “Easy. Reverse cowgirl. That’s labor…especially on a man with your girth.”
Smiling, I nodded my head, biting the inside of my cheek.
“Oh,” she cried, losing her talented cadence.
Wynter was feeling a lot more than the labor she claimed came with this position, and I knew she would. The dramatic rise of the orchestra in the track and her soft skin smacking against mine was all I heard. The demanding glow from the fireplace across the room was all I could see around Wynter’s torso that bounced up and down on my dick. She was a spritely one, had been at it for a while, adjusting to me.
She likes this…
I could tell when her clenched fingers left my knees and her arms moved in the air. One hand curled over to the opposite shoulder, and the other grabbed her hair sitting on top of her head. She was stunning…and poised with her driving game. She was enjoying herself, riding the hell out of my cock.
And my nose is wide open…
Wynter was right. She was very much aware of her sexuality and she owned it. It wasn’t something she shied away from. She was expressive with it.
The guilt…
It was what I realized earlier while in the gym, after Wynter finished her work out and left for the suite. I knew, as a man of God, I shouldn’t have been involved in this arrangement. I also shouldn’t have been receiving pleasure by enjoying her body. Now, it was turning into a fast addiction and a current obsession. The worst part of it was, I didn’t see it ending anytime soon. Our agreement was for three years.
I’d been delaying the inevitable decision of stopping this…thing. It wasn’t just that her pussy was good, but she had a sharp mind, too. Wynter was a thinker—an independent one. What I hadn’t caught on to yet, was how capable she was at feeling. She’d convinced me she understood the rhythm of blues. She seemed conversant with a rhythm as her tempo on my dick showed right now.
I’d had decent sex, and on occasion, good sex. Wynter was going for the gold in my book. But that wasn’t how I operated. I’m a man of faith, a believer of God’s promises. It wasn’t healthy to thrive in a season of blues. When you join lives with someone in marriage, I was taught you were supposed to fill the earth and multiply. What were we creating with this mind blowing sex?
I was taught in marriage, there should be an even exchange of love, joy, and fulfillment amidst the trials of life. You’re supposed to fight for peace and happiness…for wholeness and forever. What was I giving Wynter in exchange for the pleasure and escapism she’d been giving me—even before I laid a finger on her?
And I hadn’t been giving her the attributes of wife or a marriage, but I’d been enjoying her company. I hadn’t enjoyed the company of a woman without anxiety since I was an innocent kid. Life had been so polluted since then, so this thing with Wynter had been so perplexing.
But right now, I can’t think…
I didn’t have time to because right then she was vibrating on top of me. Her inner thighs clenched the outside of mine. Her shoulders jolted back and forth. She was about to explode. If there was one thing I learned in the past two days, it was the ruthless and impulsive decision to get the apadravya piercing was a premature plan laid for a Wynter Blue…McKinnon.
My balls lurched and legs opened even more to prepare. I leaped from the back of the couch and grabbed her by the breasts, pulled her into me as I bit down on her soft shoulder. I felt cool bumps rise all around me. I clutched her frame tight, not giving her much room to toss her clenching channel back to me. More than I needed the added pleasure, I needed a nearness to my latest passion. I felt my seeds jet into her hot core. The more I shot, the more pressure I applied to my teeth into her skin.
“Damn, Raaaa—” she cried. “Oh…” Her hand shot to the back of my head, holding me.
When my shooting stopped and I was able to loosen up on her, I pulled her down with me on the couch, falling on our sides.
“Ahhhh!” she shrieked playfully then fell into a fit of giggles.
“You said you were born in the winter. When’s your birthday?” I swear, I had no idea where that question came from.
The thought crossed my mind last night after she told me her full name, but I didn’t plan on asking her after blasting off.
She giggled again, panting in my arms. “January seventeenth.”
I went stiff around her.
“You serious right now?”
The alarm in my pitch must have been funny because Wynter laughed even harder.
Hardly able to breathe, she wheezed, “As serious as I can be after a monstrous orgasm.”
Wait…
“You’re twenty-nine?”
“Couldn’t stay twenty-eight forever, church boy.”
“Wheeeeeeeeeew!” he hooted, pulling his fingers from my grip on a snap. “Kings Nation, baby! Kings Nation!”
His crew in the suite cheered with him. We all did.
“Yaaaaay!” his toddler shouted alongside us, not knowing why we were cheering, but had clearly been indoctrinated by arguably the biggest Connecticut Kings fan there was.
“Yo! Did you see that play, my dude?” I shouted, walking up to Azmir with my body curled over.
Azmir’s head tossed back in a tortured laugh. Behind him, sitting with his daughter, who was a twin to the young CK fan, his wife rolled her eyes as she smiled infectiously at him.
“Butler, man! Butler!” Azmir chanted, one fist in the air.
> “Nah! Instead of the Chiefs handing it off, they threw it!” I laughed, drunk-happy.
“Dumb asses!”
“Mr. Jacobs!” Rayna warned him.
Being drunk off excitement, too, Azmir covered his mouth as his eyes blew up. He went over to her seat, reached down and kissed her in a way I couldn’t see because he didn’t want me to as he covered her whole frame from my view. He was soothing her. Nothing could bring us off this high we were on. The kids went back to playing around. They took full advantage of their father’s wealth in buying a suite for his favorite football team’s Super Bowl try.
Or re-try. This was impossibly the Connecticut Kings’ second time at the Super Bowl for the second consecutive year. They’d lost last year and it was nothing short of a blessing—and miracle—they were able to make it back this year. That never happens in football. Was it crazy that I actually prayed for this win? Out of the things I needed to work out with my Savior, I asked Him for this CK W.
As their parents took a time out for affection, I started a victory dance with Azmir’s twins. We went around in a circle with our own CK chant. They were undeniably cute, and had behaved this whole time. As I celebrated with them, I saw the field being emptied by the teams and staff out there doing whatever it was they did after the game. Outside of the suite, people were lining up to leave in the hallway. Azmir Jacobs was a big dawg and got a cabin suite. It was pretty dope in here, but I couldn’t say I’d be willing to cop this over what Jade Bailey, Trent Baily’s wife, had. Hers was more modest. Her husband was the star quarterback of the Kings. That’s where Wynter and I started this public relations run. I could have gotten my own suite here in Minnesota, but it would defeat the purpose of being out amongst my friends with my new wife.
When Wynter and I showed just before kickoff, we headed straight to Jade Bailey’s suite as arranged. She was in there with friends, family, and her and Trent’s children. Trent and I belonged to the same church. And from my understanding, he was just as close to our pastor, Ezra, as I was. A pain ran through my chest each time I thought of my pastor, who was actually my former therapist, and one of my closest friends. I was known to shut down on the world, but Ezra was one I couldn’t take a break from even if I wanted to. Trent, on the other hand, was one of those I had retreated from. It wasn’t because of anything he did. Wasn’t his fault at all. Retreating was something I did.
