Lovin' Blue

by Zuri Day

Jansen turned off Crenshaw onto Slauson Avenue, headed toward the scene of a recent robbery. This crime had turned ugly because, unfortunately, on this day that the store was closed to the public, the owners had been in their office at the back of the store when the would-be burglars had come in. The man had pulled out a weapon and tried to defend his property and had gotten shot for his troubles. His wife, who’d stepped out of the office to use the restroom, had heard the confrontation and jumped into a large utility closet to hide. From there, she’d viewed the surveillance camera and gotten a stellar view of her attackers. Jansen and Alberto were on their way to interview her.

  “You think it’s the same dudes trying to rob this spot?” Alberto asked, changing the subject. It was clear that whoever had Jansen as giddy as a schoolgirl would remain his secret. For now. But Alberto was sure he’d learn the details eventually. There was very little about the Gonzalez family to which Jansen was not privy. That’s just the way these partners rolled.

  Jansen nodded. “Probably.”

  Alberto flipped through a stack of papers. “I got a report on her old man. He’s out of intensive care but still in serious condition. The bullet missed main arteries by inches but is still lodged in his back. They’re waiting until his organs get a bit stronger before making the final decision on whether to try to remove it.”

  “His wife was smart to do what she did,” Jansen said. “If she hadn’t hid, she would have been shot, too.”

  “Hell, yeah, they would have got her. No doubt about that. They probably thought they killed her husband. That’s—hold on a minute.” Alberto reached for his cell phone. “Yeah, mami,” he answered. “Probably the same time I always get home. Why?” Jansen could hear Delphia’s animated voice from where he sat, though he couldn’t make out her words. “What is it? Just go ahead and tell me.” Alberto frowned. “Why did you even call me then? Damn, girl, you trippin’.” He ended the call.

  Jansen waited a beat before speaking. “What was that about?”

  Alberto sighed. “Delphia’s pregnant.”

  “What? That’s what she just told you?”

  “No. She wants to tell me tonight in person.”

  “So how do you know she’s pregnant?”

  “The same way I knew she was pregnant the first two times. My ass gets morning sickness before she does.”

  Jansen laughed. “Right! I remember that time we stopped and ate some Louisiana Chicken, and you got sick as a dog! Seven months later, your son was born.”

  “Yeah, I thought I was going to get to retire after suing the restaurant, and then I found out it was little Alberto making me sick!”

  “So number four is on the way, huh? Is this the last one?”

  “It could be as far as I’m concerned, but not if Delphia has anything to say about it. That woman loves being pregnant.”

  “Well . . . congratulations, man.”

  They neared the jewelry store that had been robbed. As they turned into the parking lot, Jansen thought about how it might be to have a family, and how cute a certain female would look if she were carrying his child.

  “Her name is Eden,” he said to Alberto as the two exited the vehicle.

  Alberto nodded, a big, knowing smile on his face. “I know a cho cha whistle when I hear one.”

  25

  “Where do you want this box, ma’am?”

  Eden checked the label. “That one goes in the kitchen.” Two other moving guys entered her condo. “Guys, all the boxes are marked. Please put them in whatever room is written on the white label.”

  Two hours later, Eden paid off the last day worker and dropped the four men back at the Home Depot parking lot. Whatever one felt about immigration, Eden was thankful these men had been available to help her move, and they’d expressed their gratitude at her generosity. She believed in honest pay for honest work and had paid each man an extremely fair wage for the five hours they’d spent with her. Not only did she feel her moving mission had been accomplished, but tonight a group of hardworking men had money to feed their families.

  While she was driving home, Eden’s phone rang. Shoot. “Hello? Hey, Mom, hold on, let me grab my hands-free.” After unwrapping the wire from around her purse, she was finally able to plug it into her ear. “Sorry about that, Mom. I just dropped off the workers who helped me move.”

  “So you’re finished?”

  “I’ve just about gotten everything into the house, but that’s just the beginning. I’ll be unpacking boxes and arranging furniture for weeks.”

  “Not if I know you. Miss Organized can’t stand for things to be out of place. You’ll have that house turned into a home in no time.”

  “Well, that time won’t be tonight. I’m exhausted.”

  “That’s what you said when we talked yesterday. What’s going on with you, girl?”

  Eden smiled. Jansen McKnight was what was going on with her. After leaving his house at three in the morning on Tuesday, she’d gone back for seconds last night, and this time birds were chirping when they’d kissed good-bye. “Just . . . trying to get everything organized,” she finally answered. “I’ve stepped up the employment search, so on top of the move, I’m job hunting.”

  “Remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day, Eden. You left the roller-coaster lifestyle behind in DC, right? Don’t get back on it, girl.”

  “I won’t, Mom.” Eden’s headphone beeped. “Mom, I have to take this call. Talk to you later, okay?” She didn’t give Phyllis time to respond before clicking over. “Hey, handsome.”

  “Uh, if you say so,” Phyllis drawled sarcastically. “Personally, I prefer pretty, beautiful, or even cute to handsome.”

  Dangit! “Oh, sorry, Mom. Bye!” Eden rolled her eyes as she pressed the button again. “Hello? Hello?” Just great. Missed your call and busted myself to my mother. Eden reached a stoplight, quickly scrolled through missed calls, and dialed Jansen. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Eden’s heart swelled at the sound of Jansen’s voice. She wondered when she’d get used to him, stop reacting over a single word he’d spoken. “I want you, baby. I want to squeeze that juicy asset of yours and pick my favorite flower.”

  Eden’s vaginal walls clenched of their own accord. Guess I won’t stop reacting any time soon! “You’re welcome to visit my garden, Jansen. But you’ll have to come to Santa Monica.”

  “You’re all moved in?”

  “Yep, just finished moving in the last boxes. The place is a mess, but you’re welcome to come over.”

  “Is your bed set up?”

  “It’s about the only piece of furniture that is.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No, I was going to pick something up on my way home.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just give me your address and clear a pathway to your bedroom. I’m on my way.”

  26

  By the time Jansen buzzed Eden’s intercom, she’d showered and changed. When she opened the door, she could tell her faded short-short jean cutoffs and strappy blue-and-white-striped tee, worn braless, had been a good idea. “Welcome to the garden of Eden.”

  “Girl, that’s a corny line.” Jansen leaned in to give her a kiss. “You can only get away with that because you look so good.” Jansen stopped just inside the door and looked around. “This place is bigger than it looks from outside.”

  “It’s not bad. Not as big as yours or Michael’s homes, but it’s just right for me.” Eden noted the bags Jansen carried. “P.F. Chang’s! Good choice.”

  “I was going to grab some KFC, but they weren’t serving any vegetarian chicken.”

  “Hardy-har-har—now who’s spouting the lame jokes? Come on over to the dining area. I cleaned off the table so we could eat here, and washed up a couple plates and silverware.” Eden went into the kitchen and returned with the dishware and a roll of paper towels. “Thanks for dinner.”

  The two continued chatting as they fixed their plates and began eating. Eden talked of the relatively easy moving day, an
d then Jansen filled her in on his day. “Me and Alberto don’t usually sit in on the general meetings,” he concluded. “And now I remember why. Man, I don’t miss the days when I was trying to make quota, messing with hardheads and being glad when they resisted arrest just so I could get my count.”

  Eden stopped eating and placed down her forkful of vegetable chow fun. “Excuse me?”

  “What?” Jansen was oblivious to anything wrong, as evidenced by how he continued to devour his Mongolian beef, followed by a crunchy bite of pork-filled egg roll. “Oh, no, baby, am I eating with my mouth open? Crunching too loud?”

  “Jansen, you don’t find anything wrong with what you just said?” When Jansen kept looking at her with a blank stare (and kept eating), Eden continued. “You guys have a quota to meet, arrests you’re required to make?”

  Oh, hell. “Yes, there are certain numbers to meet, but trust me, Eden. It’s not hard to do.”

  “And if it is, I bet you guys still find a way, huh? How many of those young men have I seen on television, butts on the curb, hands cuffed behind them, who are part of this quota some zealous cop was trying to meet?” Eden’s shock was replaced by anger. She tried to calm down by eating again, tried to focus on how garlicky the spinach was that Jansen had brought her. But her appetite had all but disappeared.

  “Look, Eden, I was just trying to share a bit about my day. I’m sorry I mentioned anything about it.”

  Eden took a deep breath and a sip of tea. “And I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. If we’re going to be together, I need to make peace with what you do, no matter how I personally feel about the profession.”

  Jansen nodded. “I’m not going to lie about the rogue cops that give us men in blue a bad name. But we’re not all like that, Eden. As quiet as it’s kept, most of us are not that way. But doing good deeds rarely makes the news. There was no video rolling the day I saved Sassy from being raped, or when I act as a stand-in father to many of the boys I coach. Yes, there are some bad apples in the bunch, but, trust me, neighborhoods would look quite different if the police weren’t around.”

  Yes, and some look different because the police are there. Eden thought back to her friend in DC, more of a work associate, really, Renee Newton. Renee had also worked on Capitol Hill, and after finding out she was semivegetarian, eating fish only, they often met for lunch. It was during one of these meetings that Renee had shared a tragic family secret, one that haunted Eden to this day.

  “Have you listened to Mike’s CD? Your brother’s group is pretty good.”

  Eden nodded, glad for Jansen’s change of subject. “You’ve heard it?”

  “Yes, and was especially intrigued with the song, ‘Flower of Love.’ I’d almost demand royalties, except there’s no way a brothah in London would know he’s copping the words meant for you alone. Wait,” Jansen said, a slight frown interrupting the handsome on his face. “Did Mike tell this dude about you? The one who wrote the song?”

  Eden laughed. “Not until after Kory had written it.”

  “Kory—how do you know his name?”

  Jansen’s possessiveness could have been irritating, but it wasn’t. Eden felt good knowing it mattered to Jansen if other men were interested in her. “I had the same reaction to the song you did, felt it ironic, considering the conversation we’d had the night before.”

  “It’s just fate, baby,” Jansen countered, his countenance once again unruffled. “We’re meant to be.”

  The topics stayed safe and relatively neutral—Michael’s band, life in Los Angles, the upcoming Labor Day weekend. By the time they walked back to Eden’s bedroom, the earlier friction between them had dissipated. Once again, they let their bodies do the talking. Jansen slowly undressed Eden, his fingers playing a symphony on her body as he deftly slid the straps off her shoulders. A nipple winked its pleasure at being released, and Jansen flicked it with his finger. The bud hardened, and Jansen pricked it, lightly running his fingernail over its ridges. His mouth watered, and he leaned forward, lightly brushing his tongue over her nipple once, and again, before suckling her breast like a thirsty man. He gave the other breast equal attention before slowly removing his shirt, muscles ebbing and flowing as he did so. Eden’s hands acted of their own accord and slid themselves over his washboard abs, tickling the hairs that dotted his chest and formed a nice, neat line into his crotch. She followed the line with her fingers, but just as she reached the band on his boxers, he stopped her, placing his large, strong hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her to him and crushing their lips together in a mind-boggling kiss. He prodded her mouth open with his tongue: forceful, owning, taking no prisoners. Eden opened her mouth wide, welcoming the taste of him, her tongue dueling, dancing, searching. Jansen rubbed his muscled chest against Eden’s soft globes and hardened peaks, the friction causing an instant wetness between her legs and a hardening of his shaft. She moaned, and he swallowed the sound, answered back by the wrapping of his arms more tightly around her, crushing their bodies together.

  “Jansen,” Eden cried, feeling she was losing herself in his firm grasp.

  “I’m here,” he whispered, walking them to Eden’s queen-size sleigh bed. She sat when they reached it, her legs incapable of holding her up one minute longer. He knelt before her, his eyes boring into hers, his hands on her knees, gently prying her legs apart. He kissed the insides of her thighs, a probing finger quickly deducing she wore no underwear beneath her shorts. “No panties? Nice. . . .”

  “Well, actually I . . . ah!” Eden’s reply was cut short by Jansen’s fingers skimming the hem of the denim and finding her treasure. He leisurely stroked the nub to attention while leaning in, capturing Eden’s mouth, and mimicking this agonizingly pleasurable swirling with his tongue. His breathing increased as he pulled her closer, spread her wider, and sank a finger to the hilt, then another, and another still. Just when Eden felt she could take no more pleasure, he nipped her nipple, blew and sucked, until she exploded in an unexpected orgasm that left her legs shaking and her insides quivering. Jansen licked his fingers, as if he’d just enjoyed a gourmet meal, before reaching for the band on her jeans. In his haste, the lone button flew across the room, the zipper zinged with the urgency of his mission. He quickly rid her of clothes, anchored his arms around her thighs, and lowered his head between her legs. His tongue was sure and steady, focused, parting her folds with leisurely licks before feasting in her heat. Eden screamed his name, tried to push away from the agonizing pleasure. He gripped her thighs, held her in place and increased the blessed torment, nipping sensitive skin, thrusting into the length and breadth of her being.

  Eden felt like molten lava—hot and burning—all the way to her soul. The climax into bliss left her whimpering and reaching for her man. “Please,” she whispered, her hand on his leg, precariously close to his engorged manhood. “I want to—” Her breath caught as Jansen placed one last kiss at the top of her still pulsating mound.

  Jansen was ready for her to return the favor. He stood, quickly pulled off his boxers, and released the beast that bobbed and weaved for attention better than a boxer ever could. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Eden went to work straight away, lovingly grasping his massive shaft, licking her appreciation from the base to the tip, swirling her tongue around its smooth edge before taking him fully into her mouth. A loud and sustained hiss told her she was on to something. Smiling, she continued, tickling his sac with her fingers even as she repeated her previous ministrations over and again. She didn’t think it was possible for him to grow larger, but he did. That she was responsible for this physical transformation turned her on immeasurably. She became a wanton nymph, concerned only with her lover’s pleasure. She opened her mouth wide, took him in deeper, lavished unspeakable love on a man she’d been infatuated with since forever. Jansen moaned and writhed beneath her, exciting her further. She lightly brushed his inner thighs with her fingernails, and he grew bigger still.

  “Now, woman,�
� he growled, his body shuddering from her actions. “I want what belongs to me . . . my garden. . . .” He reached out, in seconds had flipped them over, and now hovered above her.

  “Wait, I have to—”

  “Already done.” Jansen seared Eden with a kiss, hot and filled with promise, even as he reached for his shorts and pulled a condom out of the front pocket.

  Eden’s eyes fluttered open as she watched him protect them. The move was at once ordinary and amazing, his sword making “Magnum” work hard to live up to its name. Once covered, he moved to the middle of the bed, bringing Eden with him.

  “Do you want to go for a ride?” he murmured as he lifted her onto his lap.

  She figured she could show him better than she could tell him and did so by aligning his tip with the entrance of her love and slowly joining them together. She snugly clasped him within her walls before rising slowly and sinking down again. She increased the pace, up and down, and then swirled her hips, the gyration as playful as it was nasty. She braced herself against his broad shoulders, rocked back and forth. Jansen took advantage of her mouth’s proximity. The kiss was wet and steamy, broken when Eden reared back her head and closed her eyes, her body rocking, hips grinding as she strove to ride him harder, feel him deeper. Ever the leader, Jansen grasped her hips and began to command the dance, his eyes glazed and darkened as he watched Eden’s movements. He took a jiggling globe into his mouth and increased her pleasure. Just when she thought she could take no more, Jansen lifted her off him, silently commanded her to her knees, and entered her once again with one powerful thrust. The new position touched parts of her body, and her soul, that heretofore Eden hadn’t known existed. He ran a finger along her crevice, kissed her neck and shoulders, before straightening up and getting down to business for real. He grabbed her hips, pulled her body toward him as he pushed into her with stroke after powerful stroke. He shifted his body from side to side, his sword dancing along her inner walls, claiming every inch of her, melting every ounce of resistance she had ever felt. Over and again he pounded her, reaching for her hair and lightly tugging it while he slowed the pace, in and out, allowing her to feel every glorious inch. He released her, but only for a moment, moving them both to the edge of the bed. After positioning Eden exactly as he wanted her, Jansen stood behind her in that firm, wide-legged stance that was his signature and entered her once again, slow and easy. A few inches. Out. A few more inches. And out again. Eden rocked back, impatient with longing. Jansen smiled, grabbed her hips, and demanded she wait until he was ready, and she was even crazier with desire. In again. Four inches this time. Out, slow, steady. Eden wriggled back against him, her body shouting demands for which her discombobulated mind could not find words.