Courting Guinevere (The Davonshire Series Book 1)

by Olivia Gaines

  When he would not agree to her terms, Carol dumped him. Six months later, she was engaged to Ralph Whatshisface who worked in acquisitions and wore bad ties with stupid prints. He wished her well, sent her a gift and was not surprised when it ended badly. Badly was a euphemism in his book for degrading mortification. Ralph humiliated her over drinks after work by telling everyone she was a cold fish in bed. When her eyes went to him, he stood and walked to her side, shielding her from Ralph’s cold words and led her outside to a cab. Ralph had broken her heart and Gawain truly felt her pain. He swore that the next woman he was with, he would learn her body first to make sure they were on the same sexual sheet of music.

  Gawain toyed with his food as, with some reluctance, he tapped into his reserves to recount how he had met Shontae and why he was confident the relationship would come to a quick end. He was pleasantly surprised at the end of year one when they were still together and shocked at the end of year two when she bought a bigger place and they remained equally into each other. Fond thoughts flooded his chest, causing him to smile as he recalled how they first met on a Friday evening.

  Gawain was just about to leave his office when he remembered a package that needed to be sent to his sister. His assistant was gone for the day, so he rushed to the basement of the corporate office to make the UPS shipment. He walked up to the shipping and receiving counter, not really paying much attention to the young lady behind it – he was almost in a fugue, thinking of what he was going to do to occupy another dull evening in his hotel room.

  Gawain glanced briefly at the young lady behind the counter. Her nametag read Shontae. Her name was as urban as she was, and she was not one to hold her tongue.

  “You just wrapped and packaged this all wrong. It will arrive in several pieces and then you’ll come back down here yelling at me.” She said it with such accusatory authority that Gawain was taken aback. He watched Shontae rewrap and package the shipment, explaining each step as if he were a special needs patient.

  It was an odd thing, listening to the rhythm of her voice until she suddenly looked up from under the pile of weave that kept moving back and forth on her head as her neck moved back and forth, emphasizing each word. Then she asked him out. At least he thought she did.

  “You ever heard of Enclave?” she asked, smiling at him, baring a gold tooth in the front of her mouth that was adorned with a star.

  Gawain stood there staring at her blankly, answering slowly, uncertain of where this was going. “You mean the car?”

  Intense hazel eyes gazed at him and he found himself staring, attempting to see if those were contacts or her actual eye color.

  “No,” she said, “it’s this hot and popping club. I was wondering if you would be interested in going and checking it out.”

  Is she speaking to me?

  Gawain looked behind him to make sure she was talking to him.

  “Are you married or something?” she asked him.

  He again looked over his left shoulder, still checking to see if she was, in fact, talking to him.

  “Stop looking over your shoulder, ain’t nobody behind you!” she added as she rolled her neck causing the mound of multi-colored hair to shift on her head.

  Just to make sure, he looked over his right shoulder again. She reached across the counter and hit him playfully on the arm. He looked down at his arm where her hand had touched and again looked over his left shoulder. Gawain was certain someone was pulling some kind of joke on him.

  Is she serious?

  Shontae began to dance behind the counter. “I am in the mood to dance and tonight the club is going to be on fire!’” She wiggled some more. “I have a new cat suit and you look like you need to have some fun. You game?”

  He looked at her closely. Shontae reminded him of a young Mary J. Blige. She was attractive under the mound of multi-colored hair, multi-colored acrylic nails, and too much makeup. Shontae also realized now that she had his full attention and he was taking her all in. Minus the gold tooth, she had a cute smile and lips that begged to be kissed. Gawain listened to the rhythm of her words as she spoke to him. The cadence of her vernacular woke him up, setting off sparks in his head.

  She is different.

  Still unclear about what she was asking, he attempted to repeat what she had said to him, “So you want me to go and check out this club called Enclave with you?”

  Shontae flashed the ridiculous gold-toothed smile at him, “I thought you would never ask. I get off at 6:30.”

  Gawain smiled from ear to ear at her clever ploy.

  “Wow, your smile really lights up your face. And dimples, too. You need to smile more often,” she said as she applied the label to the package. Gawain could not ever remember seeing her before or having any interactions with her.

  He still held his smile when he responded, “I guess I am checking out Enclave tonight.” He had a laundry list of things to get done this weekend, but this was bound to be more interesting.

  Shontae’s grin became even wider. “Good, meet me out front at 6:30 and we’ll take the L to my place, get changed and head on over to da club.”

  As long as he had been travelling, he had never taken a subway train or a rail system – at least not by choice. A bit confused by the whole interaction, he made his way to the door to go back upstairs to his office. On his way out, she called him by name and waved her hand for him to come back to the counter.

  “Give me your phone?” He wasn’t afraid to say no, yet curiosity had grabbed a hold of him, so he did as instructed. She entered her phone number and snapped a selfie before telling him, “See you at 6:30 pm.” He looked over his shoulder again to see if any of his co-workers were going to pop out and yell, “Gotcha!”

  I wonder if she has any idea who I am.

  However, he had been so bored all week, stuck in one meeting after another, and he seriously needed to get something “popping.” He wrapped up everything in the office and met her in front of the building at exactly 6:30 like she asked. Although he had a rental car, he decided to just go with the flow.

  She is attempting to show me something. She is communicating.

  Shontae spoke an urban, rhythmic language that made his skin feel hot as she talked. When she made eye contact with him and talked at the same time, it felt like two gerbils had nested in his crotch. They were both trying to get out and play.

  She is actually talking to me. Not at me. She speaks and waits for my response.

  Shontae pelted him with every kind of personal question few women ever bothered to ask him. Not questions about his job, his businesses, or any of his family members. She inquired about the things he liked to do.

  She asked if he could dance.

  She talked about her brother.

  She asked about his brother.

  She talked about her mother.

  She asked about his mother.

  She talked about her apartment – an apartment that was so tiny, he didn’t really know where to sit. The small hand-me-down loveseat she ushered him towards had a spring sticking up in it that ripped his pants.

  My coat is worth more than all the possessions in her apartment.

  She asked him to remove his Seville Row suit so she could dress him in something her brother had left over.

  “I’m not putting on another man’s clothes,” he told her flatly.

  “Well, if you go into the club with a hole in the seat of your pants, I sure hope you can fight!” She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that he found himself grinning, which only got bigger when he looked at the leopard print cat suit that clung to every curve her mother gave her.

  Good Lord, I am being tested.

  As she undid his tie and unclasped his cufflinks, her hands were steady and her touch did not linger on his body. He secretly wished they would. She asked more questions about him. He answered as clearly as he could, hoping, praying, wishing that she didn’t see the activity of the gerbils. The smell of her was intoxicating to his senses
and the apartment was feeling even smaller.

  Yet, her touch is not intended to be sexual. She is making a point of it. I understand what she is communicating to me.

  “You don’t talk much do you?” she asked as she threw a British style scarf around his neck.

  “No need, really,” he mumbled as he stared at himself in the mirror.

  “It must be nice to have everything fall at your feet,” she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  For the second time since meeting her, he looked her squarely in the face, staring deep into her eyes. “I worked hard for everything I have. What I have, I earned.”

  “Well look at you, saying more than one sentence,” she said as she playfully hit him on the arm before urging him out the door. She looked amazing in her high heels. With his swagger added to the borrowed suit, they made quite the startling pair. Her honeyed skin glistened with the glittery powdered sheen she had brushed on her arms and breasts. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him.

  Now I am confused. I don’t know what she is asking of me.

  The club was insane. They danced to up-tempo songs and he was careful not to invade her space. He was smooth on the dance floor and impressed at how she was able to move like that in those heels. He hadn’t danced in a while but it didn’t take long to follow her lead. Soon he set the pace. She was also surprised at how well he moved and he almost read the question in her eyes asking if he could move as well in bed.

  He smiled, sipped the beer, and said, “Yes, I can.” Her eyebrows shot up and she looked over her shoulder trying to see if someone else had said something to him or if he was reading her mind. It was his turn to restate her earlier words, “Stop looking over your shoulder, I am talking to you.”

  They ate Bratwurst, drank beer, and laughed. He laughed a lot. When they returned to her place, he collected his things, holey pants and all, and asked her to call him a cab.

  “A cab? In this part of town, at this hour?” She rolled her neck like he had asked her for a jewel encrusted sword.

  She told him he could stay since it was late. He eyed the small loveseat with the reminder of the spring that poked him in the ass earlier, “Thank you for a wonderful evening, but I think I will pass on sleeping on that tiny loveseat.”

  When she pressed her body in that painted-on cat suit against his to thank him for a great evening, it took a great deal of reserve to return a platonic hug.

  That’s it, nice and easy, step back. Four strides and you are out the door.

  As Gawain headed for the door, she called his name. It was the way she said his name that made him turn around. That rhythm. That tempo. Gawain heard the hunger in her voice. It was the way the syllables rolled from her lips when she asked him to stay with her that made come to her like a Siren’s song on the currents of the wind.

  Her hug lingered too long. The cat suit felt like a second skin in his hands. The muzzle of the cat was pressing against the cage of gerbils and it was a fight of wills. He had nearly won until her left hand grabbed the waist of his pants and her right hand opened the cage.

  Shit. The fur is going to fly.

  One night with Shontae Jackson changed his life.

  3

  Training with the Squire

  In Gawain’s sexual life, there had been models. There had been actresses, businesswomen, D-list celebrities, and A-list celebrities. He never had a preference for race, he was a man that loved women.

  But Shontae, she was a first.

  She was the first woman he had bedded who had matched him on a sexual level with an intensity that scared and turned him on at the same time. After the night he shared with her, he would have bought her anything, given her anything. He smiled, remembering that woman did things to him that he could barely think of again without his body replaying every move like an intense chess match. The sex was beyond mind-blowing and Gawain had almost cried it was so good. Shontae had actually made his toes curl and when she was done with him, he was two steps away from sucking his thumb and asking his mother to come tuck him in. He slumbered, spent, depleted and exhausted face down on the bed, with a lopsided grin on his face.

  Somewhere in the distance he heard his phone chime once. In the recesses of his mind, he knew that could not be right because it would mean that it was either one in the afternoon or one in the morning on Saturday. Slowly as if he has awakened next to the nest of bugs who cleaned the dragon’s hide, he cracked one eye open and realized where he was. Either something was wrong with the bed or he had a hell of a hangover.

  Gawain tried rolling to his side, but his action was slowed because he seemed to be sticking to the sheets. Touching his abdomen, his fingers stuck to his stomach.

  What in the hell?

  “Hello,” he called into the space between the cramped bedroom and what he remembered was the living room. The walls looked more dingy than beige and he sat up and called to her again. She rounded the corner with a hot cup of instant coffee, a fried bologna sandwich on white bread, and something that resembled orange juice. She kissed him before he had brushed his teeth and said, “Good morning.”

  Gawain was shocked that there was no shyness, no remorse, and no shame for their night together. He attempted to upright himself on the bed now understanding that it was broken. “What happened to the bed?” he asked.

  She cocked her head to one side as she gazed at him with a different kind of twinkle in her eyes, “We leveled it on the second go round.”

  The coffee was terrible and he noticed her staring at the sandwich; he was hungry as hell, but he was a gentleman first. He gave the saucer back to her. She tore the soft breaded meal in half and shared it with him. Perched on the edge of the bed, Gawain was trying to sip on the bitter coffee and the covers fell from around his waist. When he looked down, his breath caught. “WHOA!”

  Shontae jumped, “What’s wrong?”

  He pointed to his crotch, “Why am I shaven and please tell me that’s chocolate!” She was laughing but he was not amused.

  “Well,” she said sipping on the orange drink, “after you popped that E, you said your skin felt hot and alive.” His eyebrows went up. “You said your skin needed to breathe and that we should shave you.”

  Choking on the coffee, he asked incredulously, “Who is we?”

  “Me and you, us, that is the ‘we’.” A devilish grin came across her face. He found himself smiling back until she asked, “So you haven’t checked your legs?”

  He sprang off the side of the bed with the covers pooling at his feet. True enough only the front of his legs had been shaven and the question still remained about the dark stuff around his person. He pointed at it and Shontae leaned forward, “It’s chocolate, and it appears that I missed some as well as the whipped cream below.”

  Using her finger, she moved his penis aside so that he could see the remains of whipped cream dollops that were stuck to his testes. Standing before her with one hand on his hip, it took a concerted effort for his body to not answer to her touch.

  Gawain blinked furiously, “Wait, back up. You’re telling me that I took Ecstasy and had you shave me?” He took a breath and noticed she was still holding his member in her hand. Gently he disengaged himself from her fingers to remove her grip while asking, “Is there anything else we shaved?”

  Smiling, she sat down the cup, licked her gold star capped tooth and leaned back on the bed, simultaneously pulling up her tee shirt. Gawain actually gasped when she revealed her baby smooth shaven area. He sat down beside her on the broken bed.

  What have I done?

  The multi-colored weave hung loosely across her forehead like a bad comedy skit on Saturday Night Live. This also made Gawain notice that it wasn’t as thick as it was yesterday. He slid his foot a little to the right to locate the sheet to cover up, but when he picked it up, he also picked up a missing piece of her weave and jumped up off the bed.

  “Yeah, you pulled those out of my head last night,” Shontae said as she turned her fac
e so he could see the gaps in her hairdo. “Thank God they were sewed in!”

  Before Gawain sat back down on the bed, he located the books that were used to hold up the mattress and box springs and uprighted the bed. When he sat next to her, still trying to clear his head with his forearms resting on his thighs, hands hanging limply, he was still holding on to the horrendous cup of sewage she called coffee.

  She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, “Can we talk about the whole crying thing?”

  He slowly turned his head to gaze at her full on, “Crying?”

  She twisted her mouth, “Yeah, you cried afterwards.”

  His expression was deadpan, “Please tell me you are joking.”

  Shontae held up four fingers, wiggling them at him. Skeptically he asked, “I cried four times or we made love four times?”

  Shontae actually clucked, with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. “Whew! What we did this morning was the furthest thing from making love!”

  He actually found himself blushing when she said, “Man, you were letting your freak flag fly high! If I didn’t know where you worked, I would have sworn you were just released from Dixon or some shit….”

  She fell back on the bed in laughter, “I didn’t think you had that fourth one in you, but you were wearing a sister’s stuff out! I was impressed, worn out,” she was still laughing as she touched herself there, “sore as hell, but impressed!”