Love UnExpected (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Love Belvin

  She took her time fitting me in, making sure she was comfortable. I thought I was going to explode prematurely when she eyed me with intensity as she glided down. Fuck! I’m never going in sheathed again. The sensations I felt from her warm walls sliding down my cock could start a war.

  Before long she slowly whispered in my ear with labored breathing, “You feel so good. It’s like my insides are carved for you.”

  Her pace was moderate. She was trying to take me all in as she stared me square in my eyes. She was really making love to me. As she grinded her breasts danced. Her taut nipples bouncing in my face had me out of control. She would slow down and then speed up. The inconsistency delayed my explosion.

  I could feel her tightening and relaxing her internal muscles. I grabbed her ass. Damn! She felt incredible.

  “I don’t wanna be with anyone else. This…all of this…is all yours.” She exploded all over me, melting onto me. Her pussy constricting deliciously over my stick.

  The thought of what I was in…what I was feeling being all mine made me lose control. I tried to hold back as much as I could but between what she was putting on me, her words and her sensual tone, I was in bad shape.

  “Oooo! You’re scratching…my…asssssssss. Go ahead. It’s…alright. Let it…go. Don’t…worry about me…baby. Let….it…go!” she sputtered as her soft breasts clapped my face.

  And with that, I had no choice but to let it blow.

  Chapter 3

  Rayna

  Life began to move so fast after my birthday excursion. One debacle I was faced with just two weeks after our return was the recurrence of Michelle’s cancer. It happened so all of a sudden. She was in and out of the hospital and it was all consuming.

  I’d practically moved into her place, I had to in order to help out with Erin. She needed to be taken to all her appointments including the doctor, acting classes, and soccer. In addition, I made sure Michelle was transported back and forth to chemo and radiation therapy as well as doctor visits. She had others helping out when I couldn’t, but I assumed the responsibility of primary care-giver.

  The responsibility grew so great that, with the permission of the higher ups of the firm, I brought in consultants to take appointments for me when I needed to be with Michelle. The only reason that idea was entertained was because it was Michelle who was being cared for; the niece of one of the partners. If such wasn’t the case, I’d be in a heap of trouble. I could tell they preferred per diem consultants rather than stretching the therapists on staff.

  One Saturday Azmir and I decided to hit The Grove. I had a few things to pick up and so did he. I’d been putting going to the mall off with my crazy schedule, but this particular day Michelle insisted that I get out and be with Azmir. It was a beautiful day in sunny California so I was happy that I obliged. After doing a little shopping, we decided to have a bite to eat. We spent our entire lunch debating the top five best rappers. We agreed on the best but couldn’t sync the order of our lists otherwise. The conversation spilled over into our post-lunch stroll and found its way into a store or two.

  “You think LL’s one of the best because of his ability to stay relevant after over twenty years in the game, but I’m basing my rankings on lyrical style and content,” Azmir argued.

  “And you allow being a Brooklyn-native to factor into your ranking. You cannot have three Brooklynites in your top five, MirMir!” I pleaded.

  Not too long after those words left my lips I heard, “MirMir? Hmmmmm…based upon that pet name, I can tell you’re fucking her and—she likes it. You must be into it as well because you do have her in the mall…a place where it can be assumed that you’ve spent money on her. It must be the newness of the pussy because you are carrying bags, which means she’s got you spending a little cash. Oh, and judging by the names on the bags, you’re not making it rain on this hoe.” That was followed by a chorus of laughter.

  I turned abruptly to find this beautiful light complexioned woman with long silky hair parted down the middle. She wore bold orange-red lipstick and donned a cute, off-white maternity blouse that exposed her cleavage, white capri pants and white stiletto slide-in heels. She had handsomely-sized diamond stud earrings, a beautifully decorated diamond brooch above her left breast and wrists full of shopping bags. I could tell she was a diva. My question was how recent a lover was she of Azmir’s with her belly bulging the way it was.

  My heart raced, mouth dried and eyes immediately flew to Azmir to find his reaction to this bitch calling me a hoe. Azmir didn’t appear ruffled at all. His demeanor was calm and very well anchored, per usual. Azmir always possessed the ability to remain placid during less than favorable events. I guess it was a characteristic required for a man of his caliber. He took a cursory glance at her and turned his head back to what he was doing as if her being the donor of such callous jargon didn’t surprise him at all.

  “Tara…” he said extremely deadpan as he placed the item he was eyeing back on the shelf.

  I could tell he was very familiar with her, but I was still waiting to judge where he was going with this so that I could decide on my follow up. Secretly I was panicking. This couldn’t be happening to me. Not now. Not after I allowed my feelings to run wild for this man. The suspense kept me on edge.

  “Is that how you introduce yourself to the next woman?” Azmir continued, still browsing the shelf. “And are you expecting me to top that indecorous rant with an insult? Because if you are, I’ll pass.”

  I think I saw a hint of a mocking grin on his perfectly sculpted face. Even in the midst of my anger I couldn’t deny Azmir’s impeccable features.

  Tara wore this addling expression and I could tell she was ready for a verbal war, but wasn’t provided a cue.

  And that’s when I came in feigning a puzzled look on my face, “Tara…Tara? Ohhh, Tara!” as if to say I finally realized who she was from a previous conversation with Azmir about her.

  I wanted her to know that I wasn’t a garden variety chick on his belt, but that we had informative conversations about our previous relationships. Azmir mentioned the “next” woman. He’s not the one to consider just any woman his, which led me to believe she was his most recent ex—an ex he’d never informed me of being pregnant, but that was neither here nor there. I had to verbally jab this bitch right back for her unprovoked and cruel outburst.

  After a thorough once-over of her—complete from head to toe—I noticed that Tara was beautiful and well suited. That intensified the sting. Fuck that—I felt a burning sensation course through my chest. Immediately, I felt out of place, as if this moment of her and Azmir sharing air somehow made me the intruder. I don’t know the last time I’d felt a twinge of jealousy. And I was damned pissed that I felt it here with her.

  I followed with, “You’re right, sweetheart. She is narcissistic,” with a giggle in my tone. I then took his hand and strode off. She and her two cheerleaders looked like asses! I could tell she was caught completely off guard.

  After we were a few feet away she screamed, “Bitch, you think you got him!”

  No response was necessary on my behalf. Had she not been pregnant that story would have had a different ending. My violent tendencies still laid dormant waiting for the right opportunity. But for now I had to collect myself. I felt the walls of self-preservation elevating all around me. Survival.

  As we waited for the valet to bring the car around, I seethed in silence. Azmir had a whole other world that I wasn’t privy to until now. Pain seared through my chest and it took every bit of strength that I could muster not to break down.

  He broke the ice once in the car. “Okay. Go.”

  Azmir didn’t even look me in the face, he just braced himself, cowardly thinking I would discuss this casually in his car after having discovered a pregnant ex. Is he out of his mind?

  “I’m sorry…?” I asked with an even breath, baffled by his direction.

  “I know you have questions about her. I’m prepared to answer them,” he c
larified in his CEO mien.

  This doesn’t work that way, Jacobs!

  “I just don’t like surprises or feeling like the third party out…I have no clue as to what just took place in there and I’m not comfortable with that.” I tried being cognizant of my tone, I didn’t want to bring too much emotion to the situation. I was in control!

  “You handled yourself well in there,” he tried to assure me. “Tara is egotistical. It’s funny how you hit that one right on the head,” Azmir continued with a chuckle.

  When I didn’t join in he relented, “Tara is an ex. We were together for quite some time and the breakup came as a surprise to her, although a blind man could see the shit coming.”

  He glanced my way while driving and I kept my eyes glued to the pavement ahead so that he knew I was not satisfied with his answer.

  “I’ve talked a little about her to you, not every detail because she doesn’t matter, not to mention the complexity of the situation. I have an extensive and extremely sensitive business relationship with her father. It’s a fragile relationship but as you can see, we’re both aware of the termination,” he included.

  I choked down my pending tears. He was skirting around the big issue.

  “What about her belly? Make me aware of the details concerning that, Azmir,” I demanded still facing forward.

  “That’s not my baby, sweetheart.” His voice very firm, just above a whisper.

  I wasn’t impressed, neither was I convinced. My heart twisted in pain and my throat restricted preventing the bile rising from my belly. I felt sick.

  “Oh, yeah? And are you both aware of that?” I could no longer conceal my anger.

  Needless to say we parted on bad terms that day.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  I didn’t see Azmir for weeks after that. He called and left messages, but I never returned them. We did however correspond a little through text when I asked him for some time. I tried to explain that the pregnancy was a deal breaker. I didn’t think I could wait for the birth of the baby to learn of its paternity.

  The way I viewed it was she had a few months to go and in that time my feelings for this man could have increased tenfold. I was not so desperate that I would take on a man with a child, a child that was conceived just months before we became involved no less. And my brief encounter with that Tara chick told me that she would play the hell out of the baby momma role. I could see myself choking the hell out of her ass and catching troubles that I didn’t need in my life.

  My heart wouldn’t endure the aftermath of a breakup if he were to decide to be with her because she was, in fact, carrying his child. Where would that leave me? No. Right now I would manage the sting of disappointment. I was undoubtedly in pain. The disappointment played similar to the countless encounters with all the men who I took on over the years. Azmir was good and damn intriguing, but he wasn’t worth me taking on baggage of that nature. It was difficult to stay away. Difficult to survive the lonely nights, but I managed. Because that’s how I mastered getting from day to day in my life; I managed. Through pain, betrayal and mistrust. I managed. Alone.

  Within that time I decided to begin my Azmir detoxification.

  Nearly three weeks later, I went out to a trendy nightspot with Michelle and her girls. Michelle had started to even out with her sickness and demanded to get out to feel some level of normalcy. Britni was always going to the latest and hottest clubs in L.A. and this one was on her list. The energy was crazy inside and the music was exhilarating. I had a ball on the dance floor and had to keep reminding myself to take it easy because I had on a very short off the shoulder, taupe, sequenced dress. It fit like a large T-shirt. I loved it, but quickly learned it truly wasn’t the best thing to dance in.

  One of the things I loved most about L.A. was how at the trendier clubs, there was a great mixture of people blending ethnicities and ages. I threw my ass from one side of the room to the next. I was wild and thrilled to be out again. I made dance floor friends with a gay guy. He had olive skin with groomed facial hairs and a neon pink Mohawk. We jammed to the music like nobody’s business. There were times he emulated me and I him out of pure fun. It was a blast, so fun that I needed a break after a while.

  As I walked off the dance floor, I threaded over to our table where Michelle and Britni were sitting to get money from my purse. The table was close to the dance floor so that we had a good vantage point and quick access to our things. We agreed that someone would be at the table at all times to watch our things and we alternated.

  April so happened to just walk up as well and yelled over the music, “Damn, I’m thirsty as fuck! All this dancing has my ass sweating like a fucking farmer. I’m going to the bar to get a soda or something. Does anybody want something?” That damn April had the filthiest mouth of the bunch.

  “Hold up. I’ll go with you. I want another drink,” I shouted.

  We made our way over to the bar together and ordered our drinks. April’s drink came first but mine, which was a peach martini, seemed to have been delayed. After waiting a few minutes, I grew impatient not understanding what the hell took the bartender so long. I used the metal pole at the bottom of the bar as a stepping stool to look over onto the other side, hoping to see what the dilemma was. I could tell she was held up doing something back there. My irritation forced me to fix my attention back there to learn of the problem that had been delaying her. As I was doing this, April tapped me on the arm and shouted something inaudible over the music, but I couldn’t hear her. I got down off the bar and asked her to repeat herself. I noticed her face had brightened and sea blue irises were glued to something fascinating across the room. I leaned in closer to her.

  “Oh, my god! Your boo is here, girl. Look!” she squealed animatedly.

  “What?” I asked almost at the same time as she shouted, “Over…at our table!”

  Without thought, I turned to see what she was referring to.

  I glanced over towards our table to find Azmir bent over exchanging words with to Michelle. My body froze in place and I could no longer hear anything but the beat of my heart as blood rushed through my veins quickening my pulse. How crazy was it that he was at this place tonight!

  Azmir’s presence was always commanding no matter where he went. His tall lean frame stuck out over all of his entourage. Before I knew it, Michelle had pointed him toward my direction. My first instinct was to make an volte-face to the bar, but it was too late. He had seen me. I couldn’t help it, I completely turned my body around back to the bar.

  Of course, in true April fashion, her blue orbs and attention stayed fastened across the room. She used her straw to twirl in her glass while she lusted over Azmir.

  She even had the nerve to go as far as to say, “Mmmm…mmm…mmm! If you don’t want that man, Rayna, I got something for that ass. I knew I should have snatched his ass up before you started fucking him.” She continued after a short pause with, “Who am I fooling? I could give a rat’s ass that you’ve fucked him. I’ll take him anyway.”

  Her neck twirled swinging her silky bleach blonde hair with perfect golden highlights, her pointed nose protruded and narrow lips pouted salaciously. If she and Michelle were not distant relatives I would have strangled her ass years ago.

  I wouldn’t even dignify her comment with a response. Though, I must admit I was surprised that she would be so bold to even admit that. April knew that I would break that ass off in a heartbeat. I guess I was too preoccupied with being jarred by Azmir’s unexpected presence to even give light to what she said.

  Trying to steal another glimpse, I did a double-take when I saw the woman standing next to Azmir, taking in the atmosphere as he bent over to talk to Michelle. She was relatively short and wore black leggings and a black halter-top as she gripped a martini glass. Was he really going out with someone else that quickly? That thought killed my buzz. My initial thought was to leave. I thought it would be too weird to stay there knowing that Azmir and I were in such a strange place. I mean, I
’d practically shut him out of my life for weeks.

  Now, I really needed a drink. After a few seconds of deliberating, I decided to stay and play. If he could easily move on with someone else, so could I. Alone.

  A half hour later found me on the dance floor again with my gay, neon-pink-haired dance partner. I shimmied with my drink in my hand. He motioned to me saying he had to leave. I waved goodbye while still getting down when I noticed my martini was done. It was a bold move on my part but when I saw the broad Azmir brought whispering in his ear while they eyed the dance floor from a distance, I decided to go for my third drink and find a new partner. This time one of the heterosexual nature.

  That didn’t take long because immediately after leaving the bar, a short and bulky dark haired guy tapped me on the arm gesturing he wanted to dance. Perfect! I obliged and we strolled into the crowd and created a space to bust a few moves.

  I could see Azmir from where I was dancing. He kept looking at me with no break in his gaze. I took a sip of my drink seductively and moved closer to dude who was all into it. I don’t know where the nerve came from, but I decided to start ticking. Ticking is when you methodically switch your hips in conjunction with your arms and/or shoulders to the beat of the bass. The best tickers incorporate seductive gestures with the movements to enhance the performance. I knew my behavior was borderline chicken-head but simply didn’t give a damn. I did that for a few seconds before switching up moves. When I turned my back to him, he came closer to grind on me. I didn’t particularly care for that but couldn’t resist him because I was on a mission to put on a show. While into my groove, the dark haired dude kissed my bare shoulder. I couldn’t stand for that so I scooted up so that he was no longer touching me.

  He whispered in my ear, “Where are you going, Miss?” as if that would turn me on. I turned to face him and began to shake my head no in a polite manner and with a smile while still dancing.