“Yeeesss!” they both sang out in pleasure at the same time.
Jerome took it slow, sliding in and out of her wetness at a gentle pace, moving his hips in a rolling rhythm. He leaned into her, easing his hands from her hips to her shoulders, holding her as his thrusts became more intense with growing speed.
Erica moaned, begging him to go deeper, harder, and faster as she turned and looked up at him. His face was outlined in sweat and etched with desire as he responded to her call. She watched with brazen lust as he pounded her, creating a sweet pain that made her call out his name. The force of his thrusts was in step with the sway of her hips.
“Yes, baby, yes!” Erica cried out, giving in to a bright electric sensation as she climaxed in a creamy haze.
Jerome laid his body flat atop hers as he continued to pump in and out of her at a heated and steady pace. Her hot wetness sloshed against his leg, creating a sound and a feeling that took him over the edge. He arched his back and swerved his hips, plunging as far as he could go into the soft folds resting between her legs. His pelvis rubbed against her ass, adding to the euphoric feeling spreading through his body as he experienced a release so hot and intense, he collapsed against her back. His body spasmed, his eyes shut tight, and he lay still, completely satisfied.
“I love you,” he whispered into Erica’s ear.
She moved her head to the side and looked at him. “I love you, too.”
Jerome didn’t want to move, but he knew his body weight was too much for Erica’s delicate frame to hold, so he gently rolled off of her warm back and lay by her side. They were cuddled face-to-face, holding each other close, their bodies wrapped together like they were born that way. He gently stroked the side of her face and kissed her on the bridge of her nose. He loved Erica so much, it scared him. She’d spawned emotions deep inside him that were new and raw, challenging his once ironclad ego.
He’d been pissed during the party tonight. Jealousy and self-doubt had coursed through his body when Erica stood beside him and acted as though she were mute when her ex showed up. Jerome had always worn his confidence like a broken-in pair of jeans—comfortable and easy—but that moment had tested him. Until tonight, he’d never felt threatened by another man. He’d always been sure of who he was and how he appeared in his world. But stepping into Erica’s domain, filled with pedigree and status, he’d felt as if he was wandering in an unknown land where all the rules as he’d known them had changed.
During the silent drive back to Erica’s house, he’d thought about the fact that this was what he’d said he wanted just a week ago: meeting new people, learning new things, branching out of his comfort zone, and exposing himself to another side of life. But now that he’d stepped into it, he questioned whether he belonged. He’d never wondered if he was good enough for any of the women he’d dated, and when he thought about it, he didn’t know if that was a poor reflection on him or them.
Looking at Erica as the light from the window illuminated her body, he thought she was the most precious, amazing creature he’d ever seen. The soft curves of her full hips and thick thighs looked like they belonged on a much larger woman, but it was part of her alluring appeal that held him in her spell, a confluence of consistent contradiction. She was a polished, highbrow sophisticate, yet she was down to earth and humble. She was a hard-edged businesswoman, yet she was compassionate and kind. She’d been hurt by failed relationships, yet she still believed in true love and happily ever afters.
She was complex and funny and frustrating, and he loved every part of who she was.
“That was incredible,” Erica said, stretching her arm over his shoulder.
He kissed the bridge of her nose. “Yes, it was.”
“Jerome?”
“Yes, baby?”
“I’m not with you just because you fuck my brains out.”
Jerome felt bad when he heard his words repeated back to him, and coming out of Erica’s mouth, they sounded especially biting. “Baby, I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did, and it’s okay. I want you to let me know how you feel so I’ll understand how my actions affect you. If we’re going to make this work, we have to be responsible to each other in that way. What happened tonight . . . I won’t let it happen again.”
“I have to step up and take responsibility, too. Some of the thoughts and feelings going through my head had nothing to do with you. It was about how I feel about myself.”
“And how is that?”
“Like maybe I don’t measure up. Like you should be with a brothah on your same level. You know, educated, good job, big fancy house—”
“Jerome . . .”
“Erica, please, let me finish,” he said gently. “I know I’m a good person. I’m smart, hardworking, honest, and I’ll make a great partner. But right now I can’t offer you the kinds of things that you’re used to . . . that your parents think you deserve.”
Erica softened her eyes and touched his cheek. “You can’t put a price on happiness or love, and that’s what I have with you. You’ve given me what I want and what I need.”
“So, you’re cool with how I am, my lifestyle, and my status?”
“Well, yes and no.”
Jerome cocked his head against the softness of the pillow and stared into Erica’s eyes.
“What I mean is that I love who you are, but I want you to continue to grow, just like I want to continue to improve my life. And I definitely want your status to change. I want you to complete your GED, start your business, get your company certified, and build projects all over this city. I can help you develop a business plan, and you can help me remodel my boutique. We can learn and grow with each other.”
Jerome thought about the things Erica had said and what their future would be like. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with.”
Erica smiled. “And I better be the last.”
Chapter 32
Jerome sprang up with a force so strong and a speed so quick, he didn’t realize he was awake until Erica’s cries jarred him into awareness.
“Baby, what wrong? What’s going on?” Jerome asked. He looked at Erica for answers, searching for her eyes through the darkness of the room. His heart pounded inside his chest as he reached over and pulled her close against him.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me!” he demanded.
Erica trembled in his arms. She was silent. Drenched in sweat. Shaking and scared. Wide-eyed and frightened as a lost kitten. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself.
Jerome looked into her face and saw that it was covered in horror. She was terrified, and he wondered what awful thought or memory had ripped her so violently from her sleep. He rocked her back and forth, trying to soothe her. “You must have had a bad dream. It’s gonna be all right.” He stroked her damp hair, pushed it away from her face, and wiped her tears with his hands. “Shhh. I’m here, Erica. I got you.”
The early morning sun pumped life in through the side window, flooding the room with soft rays of warmth. It was the start of a new day, and as Jerome and Erica lay in bed, with him watching her sleep peacefully, he thought about what had happened just a few hours ago.
At around 4:00 a.m. he’d awakened to the piercing sound of Erica’s cry of “Noooo! Noooo!” She had repeated it over and over until she was inaudible. Once she finally stopped trembling, she fell back into a peaceful slumber, sleeping in Jerome’s arms as if someone had drugged her.
After Erica’s hellish screams had pulled him from his relaxing sleep, Jerome had lain awake until the sun rose, holding her and wondering what had caused her nightmare. Yes, he now knew she’d had a nightmare and not just a bad dream. A bad dream would have meant that she’d had a scary thought that passed through her mind during sleep, leaving her restless and a little uneasy. But a nightmare was much worse. It was terrifying and extreme, and it had left her helpless, as if she’d been pleading for her life.
Her body had s
haken so badly with fear that she was nonresponsive. Then, finally, she succumbed to the explosive weight of the experience, causing her to drift away into a deep catatonic-like state. He wondered what kind of awful thing she’d experienced that had made her plead in the night as if she were fighting for her life?
Erica squinted as her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the brilliant light streaming into her bedroom. She smiled when she saw Jerome staring back at her, and took a deep breath as she inhaled his woodsy vanilla scent, completely amazed by how good he still smelled after a night of heavy sex.
“Good morning,” she whispered through pursed lips, shielding him from her morning breath.
“Good morning,” he whispered back.
She smiled and stretched herself against his lean, muscular body. But when she looked down at herself, her face drew a tight line of confusion. She realized that Jerome’s wonderfully fragrant scent wasn’t coming from his skin. It was coming from his T-shirt—which she was wearing! When she’d drifted off to sleep last night, she’d been naked, and now she wasn’t.
“You were soaking wet and trembling,” Jerome said, tracing his index finger along the contour of her cheek. “I didn’t want to search through your things, so I put my T-shirt on you.”
She stared at him, and it all came rushing back. She’d had a nightmare, and this time there’d been someone beside her to witness it.
Although she’d spent countless nights in bed with Claude and the other men she’d dated in the past, none of them had ever witnessed one of her heart-thumping, panic-stricken nightmares. But it was only her second night with Jerome, and she’d screamed and cried out, nearly scaring him to death, waking him from his sleep, too. Then something happened mere moments after her frightening episode that she’d never experienced—her eyes closed and she fell into a dead sleep.
Normally, once she was awakened by a nightmare, she couldn’t go back to sleep. She’d lie in bed, wide-eyed and exhausted, staring at the ceiling until it was time for her to get up and start her day. But that didn’t happen last night. Jerome had held her in the comfort and safety of his arms, and it was that safe place that had allowed her to doze off into dreamland.
She looked up at him. “I had a nightmare.”
“I know.”
“It was a bad one this time. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“Does this happen a lot?”
Erica shrugged. “Not a lot, but I’ve had quite a few lately.” She sighed and bit her bottom lip. “I’ve been having nightmares since I was ten.”
She went on to tell Jerome about the night that had been living with her every day for the last twenty-five years. She explained that triggers, such as stress, anxiety, or any kind of pressured state that made her feel unsafe or unsure, could bring about a nightmare. “The length of time they last, or even how often they occur, is unpredictable,” she said. The only thing she knew for sure, as she’d learned from studying dream analysis over the years, was that the episodes were rooted in fear. “I always wake up just in time, though.”
“In time for what?” Jerome asked.
“Before I crash to the ground or my heart stops or I suffocate or I’m strangled. Sometimes I’m chased and hunted, sometimes I’m about to have an accident, and at other times I’m just running from danger. But I always wake up before I die in the dream.”
Jerome tilted his head and looked at her with concern. “So, is it like the movie The Matrix, where if you die there, you die here? I’ve heard that people can die from dreams, like if you’re falling and you actually hit the ground.”
“No, that’s an old wives’ tale. Although I don’t doubt that if someone is scared enough or goes into shock or has a weakened heart, it could happen. But generally, no.”
“Good.”
“Actually, I wish I wouldn’t wake up in time. I want to die,” she said softly.
Jerome looked visibly disturbed. “Baby, why?”
“I don’t mean die in real life. Just in my dream. Usually dreams about death symbolize the end of something, like a relationship or a friendship. It puts an end to whatever trouble is lingering. I think if I actually died in one of my dreams, it might set me free. That’s why near the end I always give up and let whatever is happening overtake me. I surrender to it. But instead of dying, I wake up.”
“Have you ever considered talking to a therapist?”
“I did once, when I was in college. But it was a terrible experience that left me stale on the idea.”
“Don’t let one bad experience keep you from breaking through. I’m speaking from personal experience. After I was shot, I was . . .” Jerome paused, taking a deep breath. “I was scared. I didn’t even want to go around people I didn’t know, because I saw everyone as a possible threat. But the hospital hooked me up with a therapist, and it changed everything.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll look into it.”
“Think about it. What you went through as a child was traumatic.”
“I felt scared and helpless that night,” Erica said. “I saw a man brutally attack and shoot my father. I remember how they struggled and fought, all the blood and the noise.” She touched the dark scar on the left side of Jerome’s chest, gently rubbing her finger across the slightly raised skin. “You know what it’s like.”
“Yes, violent memories are hard to shake. They stay with you.” Jerome kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry you experienced that as a child, and I’m so sorry I caused your nightmare last night.”
Erica shook her head. “You weren’t the cause. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately that has nothing to do with you. You calmed me and made me feel safe. You’re the only reason I was able to even sleep.”
“But I caused the stress and anxiety that led up to it. I upset you twice yesterday, and I’m so sorry about that, baby.”
Erica perched herself up on her elbows, looking Jerome in his eyes. “Did you hear me when I said I feel safe with you? As soon as you held me in your arms, all my fears went away. This wasn’t your fault. Yesterday was rough, but our night was wonderful and magnificent,” she said, circling her finger on his forearm. “So it wasn’t you. I was worried about other things.”
“Like what?”
“Last night I could tell there was something very strange going on with my parents. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I got a vibe that something’s not right. Then there was that weird, uncomfortable flirting between Ashley and Nelson. I don’t know what that was about.”
Jerome shrugged. “I know you said she’s engaged, but from what I saw, she needs to put that on pause. She and your brother got something goin’ on.”
Chapter 33
Erica knitted her brow. “You think Ashley and Nelson are fooling around?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jerome said, looking at Erica as if she didn’t have a clue. “Don’t you?”
“Just because they were flirting doesn’t mean there’s anything going on.”
“Trust me on this one. I’m a man. I can tell. If they’re not fuckin’ now, they have in the past.”
“How can you say that, and how are you so sure?”
“Because of the kind of eye contact and body language they had goin’ on. It went beyond just flirting. They were very familiar. Nelson looked at her like he’s tapped that.”
Erica shook her head from side to side. “No. Ashley would’ve told me. We tell each other everything.”
“Uh, apparently not.”
Erica thought about what he’d said. “No, I’m sure she would have told me something this important. That’s why I can’t understand their behavior.”
“If it’s bothering you this much, you should talk to Ashley and your parents so you can find out what’s really going on.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I’m going to do that this afternoon.” She didn’t want her questions or confusion to linger, and that thought drew her back to her curiosity from last night. “What’s up with you and the Butterfields, and specifica
lly, Mrs. Butterfield?”
She could see Jerome averting his eyes as he shifted his body. “I did a roof repair job for them last weekend.”
“Okay. What else?”
Jerome let out a deep sigh. “Damn, pillow talk is dangerous.”
Erica’s eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that some things shouldn’t be discussed, not even after a night of good lovin’, hell, especially not after a night of good lovin’,” Jerome teased as he pulled Erica in closer to him.
“I’m serious,” she said. “We just talked about how important it is for us to be honest with each other. Please tell me, Jerome. I want to know.”
She could tell Jerome was thinking about what to say.
“Just say it.”
“Okay, but you have to promise me you won’t run back and tell your girl.”
Erica thought about what Jerome was asking. He wanted her to withhold information that could possibly affect Ashley in a negative way, and in her mind, it had to be bad if he was making her take a vow of silence. “If it’s something that’s going to hurt Ashley, I don’t know if I can keep it from her.”
Jerome rubbed his chin, and she could tell he was debating what to do. “All right, I’ll tell you.”
By the time Jerome finished his story, Erica was startled, disturbed, and pissed all at once. “Jason’s high-and-mighty mother won’t approve of a black woman marrying her son, but she’s fine with getting herself some black dick. That bitch!”
“Whoa, baby,” Jerome said with surprise. “I’ve never heard you talk like this.”
“When someone messes with the people I love, it’s on. No wonder she could barely look you in the eyes. That old heifer should be ashamed of herself.”
Jerome laughed. “Damn. I’m gonna make sure I stay on your good side.”
Erica shook her head. “I just don’t like that kind of fakeness. And you know what? Mrs. Butterfield was kind of obvious. I mean, she was all nervous around you, and she looked at me like she wanted to brawl. I bet you Ashley figured it out on her own.”
Breaking All My Rules Page 22
