He Who Is a Protector (Sadik Book 3)

by Love Belvin

  “You two are the real MVPs!” Monica marvels. “Let me go make sure Iban’s up. He went to bed early last night.”

  I nod, acknowledging her before she takes off. That’s when another explosive light gallop catches my attention. Sadik leaps into the family room.

  “Merry Christmas, every one of you!” he shouts with outstretched arms. “I’m so happy we made it!”

  The room lights up with laughter, including the staff helping the kids keep organized in their bubbling excitement. My parents appear behind him in their robes.

  “Did he wake you up, too?” I ask my father.

  “You know he did,” my mother answers for them both. “That boy wasn’t having Christmas without his Papa and Poppa. He tried to go to your room.” She winked. “But I told them you guys had already come down for coffee.”

  I nod then go back to watching these little inspired faces. That’s until my attention is beckoned elsewhere. To the left of me, Iban’s at the top step looking into the living room. On either side of him are Monica and his home health aide. He looks a little winded as he holds onto his walker. I put my glass on the mantel and go over to him.

  “You need help?”

  He shakes his head slowly as he glances down to the lower living floor level. His aide murmurs words of instruction and encouragement to him. Iban drops the walker to the living room floor, steps closer to the edge. He lifts and drops the walker again, this time farther from the step. Finally, he drops one leg down, circling the other in the air, then drops that one, too. The speed of his movements and range of motion has improved over the years, and his need for therapy has decreased in frequency. All of that, and my big brother is still a fraction of the convivial spirit he used to be.

  “Daddy!” NeNe screams elatedly. “Come. Let me feed you food. I cook!” She smiles, bringing attention to her apron.

  Liza runs up to him and lifts her new toy mobile phone to him. “Call Momma, Daddy.”

  Holding tight to the grips of the walker, Iban smiles brightly. “Okay, baby.” His words spill at a low to moderate speed; all of his faculties seem to. “Let daddy get his chair in here, okay?”

  From the entrance at the other side with a ramp for accessibility, his chair was being brought down by another home health aide. It’s why Bilan chose this particular house—why she chooses all the properties we rent for the family now.

  I watch as Iban slowly transitions from the walker to his motorized chair, where he spends most of his day. I’m at his side as always, in the event he needs help. He rarely asks me. He’s out of breath by the time he’s settled in it. I’m waiting too tensely. I should be used to this by now, but I’m not.

  Finally, a smile opens crookedly on his face. “I did it,” he utters. “I walked in on Christmas with all my kids.”

  My chest expands and I nod. “You did, man. I’m proud of you.” I really am.

  Bilan puts down her tea mug when NeNe asks to open her kitchen. She explains Sadia has one they can play with now. When Sadik makes his way around his stack of gifts and finally unravels the coupe, I watch intently.

  “Hey, I want that!” Asad trills as he points.

  My regard finds their mother, hoping she has an immediate solution.

  But Sadik has an even better one. “It’s okay, brudder.” He squats in front of Asad as though he’s so much taller. “We can share. You can go first. Okay?”

  Fighting through a pout, Asad approves. “Okay, Deekie.” He quickly goes back to his group of gifts.

  A long breath of relief pushes from my lungs. Subconsciously, I peer over at Bilan, who’s on her haunches in the girls’ kitchen. She winks and blows a kiss of her own approval.

  Shit…

  This parenting thing causes more stress than staff conflicts. It is a tightrope balancing act to attempt happiness for a family of five. But it fucking thrills me at the same time.

  About an hour later, the adults have found our way into the kitchen for breakfast.

  “I hope you ain’t going back to that shit,” my father grounds out with animated eyes, eyes pointing to my wife.

  The entire table quiets.

  Bilan lifts a brow. “What’re you talking about, old-timer?”

  “That not eating shit.” He peers over to my mother. “Remember she used to do that at your table?”

  My queen laughs as she feeds Ealy cheese. “Oh, leave my child alone, Earl.”

  “Please do,” Bilan rotates her head over her shoulder with closed eyes as she groans. She’s showing signs of crashing. “I eat and you know it. That was so three-four years ago.” She waves him off dismissively. “You just better be up for those slopes. Better hope you can keep up with me.”

  “Little girl of mine, I will smoke you!” my father playfully challenged.

  The table finds humor in their verbal battles. I’m likely the only who doesn’t. My eyes are fastened to her profile, trying to measure her mood. For me.

  “Bilan,” Taaliba calls from across the table as she scrolls through her phone. “We have time for me to show you the designs I’m between for my tea boutique.” She pats the empty seat to the left of her as Danny is at her right. “Come. Let’s get started.”

  Before Bilan can answer, I drop my napkin and prepare to stand. “That would be a negative.” I reach for my wife’s hand.

  Without a moment of dither, she reciprocates and stands next to me.

  “Why? You guys flew in late,” Taaliba notes, cleaning her gums with her tongue as she speaks. “I haven’t had any girl time with her.”

  “Same here, girl.” Monica rolls her eyes, holding her coffee to her face.

  It’s nice to see how, after Bilan dropped Randi as a friend, she grew into healthy friendships with my sister and sister-in-law. Bilan and Tasche have remained friends. Two years ago, Tasche applied for visitation rights for her daughter in New Jersey now that she’s a resident. Bilan had Julius put in a word with the judge presiding over the case, and she granted Tasche weekly visitation rights and a review of her ability to parent fulltime. I’m still humored at how Bilan knows to use her “Ellis privilege” when necessary. Bilan hasn’t spoken of Randi since years ago when she said Tasche and Randi had a falling out over Randi wanting to stay with Tasche after Tasche’s boyfriend moved into her apartment. Selfishly, that delighted me. It put even more of a distance between Randi and my wife.

  “And neither have I.” I clear the chair from behind Bilan. “I take priority. Sorry, ladies. Hold down the Ellis trio for us.”

  “For how long? I really need to go over this with her.” Taaliba is demanding behind us as we head for the hall.

  I shrug, peering at her from over my shoulder. “I’ll see what she got in her when I’m done.”

  “My boy!” my father shouts over Bilan’s feminine giggles as we turn the corner.

  I hum, totally relaxed at his hands and fingers in the jacuzzi. One hand is tightly clasped to my scalp as I sit in front of him, between his hard, hairy legs. His other hand busy strumming my swollen clit beneath the heated water. He’s precise with the massages. Pressure on my head necessarily strong, and the one between my spread thighs, locked outside of his, is circling the parameters of my pearl.

  I’m relaxed and heated deliciously in the silky water, submerged in white rose petals. Soft, relaxing music plays, deluding the reality of the early morning hour. I need this time alone with him to regroup. These past few weeks between work and preparation for today had me stretched. Sadik, too, has been busy acknowledging his staff and supporting Julius in Paterson. He’s finally been seen publicly with his friends since… Jason. I quickly switch my thoughts. It doesn’t help that Sadik’s rubbing has neared the nucleus of my pleasure house.

  My breathing hikes again, pussy pushing into his hand to increase the pressure.

  “Don’t cum again, Nalib,” he cautions in my ear, those velvety cords enticing.

  I want to. So badly, I want another orgasm to take the last bit of the edge off. I clu
tch the rope binding my wrists in the air as my head pushes back into his hard shoulder. He peers down on me, his face fixed into a scowl as he focuses on the varying pressures. I angle my face so my mouth can near his. Thankfully, he takes the hint and brings his lips down to meet mine, taking me ravenously. His tongue strokes my mouth, aggressively licking against my own. His hand on my head pushes me closer to him. The assault drives me wild and I buck my pussy into his hand between my legs…until it disappears.

  I’m in love with this man. Still. He’s powerful, broad-minded, talented, and protective of his family.

  “I get it now.” I whisper into his lips when I pull back.

  “Get what?”

  “What you were offering the first time you approached me at Michelle’s.” When his eyes glaze over, I know he needs specificity. “When we discussed Christina C. Jones’ stance on Black love. You said you agreed there’s been a deficit of Black love and commitment presentation in America.” I swallowed, developing my words. “You’ve been my Black love story. You friended me when I rejected you, made love to my doubts of this…thing existing, and you protected me even when I didn’t give you my best.”

  I think the revelation came full circle last night when I saw Sofia Cruz at the holiday dinner. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of Sadik. When we spoke to people, I caught her gaping. When we ate dinner, I found her staring. And when we danced hard on the dance floor and I endured his hands all over me, at one point, I opened my eyes to her chocolate ones as she clutched a martini glass in her hand.

  When I found my way into the bathroom to relieve myself, Sofia appeared. She told me for the first time since knowing him, she’d seen Sadik in a natural element she never knew existed. Sofia shared how she followed the news reports when Sadik and I were covered for Jason’s murder and thought that would be the end of our marriage. She followed each court appointment the media captured us walking into and paid close attention to the coverage. Sofia shared she noted Sadik’s hands or arms around me in a protective manner each time we were photographed together. I was shocked to have that much of her attention. I was also reminded of my Google-stalking of the Ellises for Iban’s trial.

  “His mother pulled me aside one day when visiting his place while I was over.” Sofia shared. “She said, ‘When a Black man loves you, he protects you. The prize for a Black man is finding a woman who understands and appreciates his plight because she, too, has one akin to him.’ I thought she was being mean. But when I saw how you two were there for each other through that debacle and stayed together, I saw something I didn’t feel when I was with him. Something I didn’t know to aspire to. Tonight, I saw it was something so organic, I couldn’t replicate it even with the help of his mother.” She turned to leave the restroom. “Congrats for finding that with him.” Wordlessly, I watched her slip out as quickly as she’d slipped in.

  “That’s because you were always mine,” he declares effortlessly, spiking my temperature. “And you will forever be.”

  His lips are full and promising, eyes under those dense, unruly brows, a dark brown perimeter enclosing a hue of green, then yellow and an impossible orange before a speck of black at the mecca of the iris. I look forward to seeing such exoticism every day of the rest of my life.

  “Please, Sadik,” I beg.

  He stands, causing heavy beads of water to fall over my head. When I think he’s going to untie the rope from the hook above, he ducks to cross beneath it. The moment his steely rigid erection nears my face, I shift forward, taking him into my mouth without the assistance of my hands. I watch as his eyes darken while watching me bob over him. My tongue lashes on the underside of him against the thick veins. I tighten my lips around him and suck him deep, nipples pebbled, clit throbbing, and sex contracting.

  With sudden speed, Sadik withdraws, bends to lift me from the water, and turns me around. Before I catch my breath, he’s inside me, thrusting into my hungry sex. I relax into him until those thrusts turn into plunges. My groin spins and hanging wrists go numb at the same time.

  “Best lover…” he grunts over me. “My friend.”

  My ultra-alpha’s declarative words take me over the edge and my thighs jerk crudely as I implode over him.

  Best friend, my only lover, and protector.

  Forever.

  ###

  #PenningWithoutParameters

  #ImGonnaMakeYouLoveMe

  www.LoveBelvin.com

  See visuals from the series here on my website – http://www.lovebelvin.com/Sadik

  ~Love Acknowledges

  Visuals: 365 Photography – “Hello, Brooklyn!” Your talent is boundless. Thanks for taking a chance on Black literature. I look forward to more collaborations! Fierce Faces – Kaydene, I can’t say thanks enough for brokering this deal. As we both learned, what’s meant to be will gel seamlessly. Thanks for your artistry and patience (and not cussing me out as you threatened). KNGQ – Q. Williams & Brittney April, thanks so much for serving as visuals for our Sadik and Bilan. May this be another ideal step in the direction of your promising careers. My best to you in all your endeavors!

  Researcher: Shumethia S. — Thanks so much for always going the extra mile for me, even when it’s inconvenient. I love you, woman!

  Beta Reader: — Yorubia, thanks for all the work you put in…all the listening to the plots and developments with patience and anticipation. I know I won’t hear from you for a few weeks until you call and ask about my next set of characters, but… WHATEVER!

  LBTR — Afi, Angela J.J., Artemysia, Ash, Asha-kai, Ashleigh, Ashley, Ayanna, Ayo, Azaria, Bonita, Brittany, Courtney, Danielle, Dee, Deidre, Denise, DeVona, Diana, Diane, Diva Dee, Doresha, Doris, Ericka M., Gail, Grace, Heather, Heidi, Hezie-Ann, Hyacinth, Jasmine, Jessica, Kamashia, Karmen, Katrina, Kendra, Kerry, Keyma, Kim, Kimmiko, Kita, Korei, LaLa, LaSonde, Linda R., Linda W., Lee, Malaika, Marshall, Michelle M., Michelle R.O., Michelle T., Mocha, Monique H., Monique N., Natoya, Nena, Nikki, Pamela, Rakia, Quan, Regina, Richell, Rose, Roslyn, Samona, Sharon L., Sharon F.W., Shaun, Sola, Sophia, Stacey K., Stacy M., Tamara, Tanisha, Tanya, Tara, Té, Teresa, Terri G., Tesha, Tia, Tiffany, Tineka, Tonya, Tralaina, Vivian, Wendi, Yolanda P., Yolanda U., and Yorubia, it’s crazy how I’m finally convinced of how connected we are. I love you guys for teaching me the magic of Black women supporting our arts. I brag about you to friends and family, and feel the love you give me behind my back (I hear about it). Thanks for being that core of support. Jemeka & Rita: You two are like the proverbial smarter and more resourceful wives. You make me look so put together and organized. I can’t say thanks enough for being by side. Love you for real!

  Christina C. Jones aka CCJ — Your friendship grows more valuable by the day. Thanks so much for all you contribute to my life and brand. May God continue to increase everything you touch! And Lord, heal her road rage!

  Interior Artist: Cedeara Ardell McCollum — Thanks, baby girl, for the imagery you’ve designed for my books! Love you always!

  Proof Reader: Tina V. Young — You’ve been a rock to me, a special gift. I hope to return the favor in some form or fashion. Love you so much, T!!!

  Editors:

  Zakiya Walden of I’ve Got Something to Say! — I appreciate your hard work and dedication. This process reminds me of our L.I.P. days. LOL! May we have many more!

  Santisha Thomas of AccuProse Editing Services — I was an ever bigger pain. I know! You were a trooper. I appreciate you greatly!

  MDT: That break you’re pushing… Ummm… Yeah. It’s time.

  Master, my Jireh, my Rohi, Proverbs 16:3 (AMP) “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” This, oh Lord, is my worship.

  ~Other Books by Love Belvin

  Love’s Improbable Possibility series:

  Love Lost, Love UnExpected, Love UnCharted & Love Redeemed

  Waiting to Breathe series:

  Love Delayed & Love Delivered

  Love’s Inconvenient Truth (Standalone)

 
Love Unaccounted series:

  In Covenant with Ezra, In Love with Ezra & Bonded with Ezra

  The Connecticut Kings series:

  Love in the Red Zone, *Love on the Highlight Reel, *Determining Possession, End Zone Love, Love’s Ineligible Receiver, & *Pass Interference (*by Christina C. Jones)

  Wayward Love series:

  The Left of Love, The Low of Love & The Right of Love

  Love in Rhythm & Blues series

  The Rhythm of Blues & The Rhyme of Love

  The Sadik series

  He Who Is a Friend, He Who Is a Lover & He Who Is a Protector

  ~Extra

  You can find Love Belvin at www.LoveBelvin.com

  Facebook @ Author - Love Belvin

  Twitter @LoveBelvin

  Goodreads: Love Belvin

  and on Instagram @LoveBelvin

  Join the #TeamLove mailing list on my website to keep up with the happenings!

  Click here (with WiFi) to join!