by S. Ann Cole
Pulling my hand away, I sat up. Marsha. The trollop who stole his sperm and impregnated herself had a goddamn ring tone. I listened. Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean.
Wonder what my ring tone was…
Jahleel eyeballed me as he picked up the phone and answered it. “Marsh, this better be about Claire.” He listened for half a minute and then he was up on his feet, nodding as if the conniving slut on the other end could see him. “‘Kay, I’ll be there in a few.” He hung up and stuffed the phone in his back pocket, then looked down at me.
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling then. Numb, perhaps. The competition. Not Marsh, but Claire. You can’t compete with a man’s child. You just can’t.
Crouching down with a sigh, he touched the side of my face. “Sorry about this, Sassy, but I gotta go. Claire’s been rushed to the hospital. Severe asthma attack or something. Marsha says she’s been cryin’ for me.”
Sperm-Stealing Marsha is lying through her goddamn teeth, I wanted to say. Instead, I nodded. “It’s okay. Ride safe.”
Getting to my feet, I picked up my denim shirt-dress and donned it.
Jahleel placed his hand over mine to stop me as I popped in the first button, frowning. “You’re not stayin’?”
“You coming back?”
“Well, I do live here,” he smarted.
“Don’t get pissy with me,” I retorted, a little peeved. “I mean tonight. Are you coming back tonight?”
“The fuck are you askin’ me exactly? If I’m gonna sleep at Marsha’s?”
“Yes, JK, that’s exactly what I’m asking.”
The skin around his eyes tightened as he scraped his teeth over his lower lip. He could get cheesed all he wanted; I didn’t give two craps.
“I’m not fuckin’ her,” he bit out.
“Well, if that’s the truth, I can expect you back here by midnight, right?”
He stepped into my space, circled his arms around me, and kissed me softly. “Midnight.”
Then he left.
For the next hour, I laid in that gazebo looking out at the rose petals and candle-decorated pool as I forced weak, whiny Saskia out of me and welcomed back the old, strong Saskia. I was going to need her if I planned on keeping Jahleel.
I loved this dream.
Because this was the first time a sex dream allowed me to come, instead of having me wake up right before the climax.
My hips shot up off the bed as I cried out at the intense pleasure that raced through me. I came with a force. Sweet baby Jesus, this was some dream. Some orgasm.
But then I felt warm hands on me, the air shifting, then weight on top of me. A steel-hard cock pushed into me next, tearing me open, and I moaned at the utter pleasure of it.
It wasn’t a dream. It was him. My life.
My real life.
With a blissful smile, I flickered my eyes open and met his hooded ones staring down at me.
“Hey,” he whispered, his hair falling down in his face. God, he was beautiful.
“Hey, yourself,” I breathed back, smile still intact as he moved in and out of me, uncharacteristically slowly.
He opened his mouth to say something, but then it just remained agape as his eyes shuttered down and a groan rumbled in his throat. “Wait…I need a…Fuck, Sassy, stop moving your hips…Jesus…”
I didn’t. It was too good watching him come undone above me. “Missed me?”
“I…Ah, fuck…” His hands came up and cupped my face desperately hard, then he kissed me even harder as he flexed in, out, in, bit my tongue, then stilled. Falling completely apart with a stiffening orgasm.
“Waow,” I teased. “That was quick.”
Enervated, he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Was jerkin’ off while I sucked you…you were so wet…” he defended. “And yes, I did miss you all night.”
All night?
Peering over his shoulder, I looked to the bay windows and realized that the sun was already ascending. It was morning. He stayed out all night. With her. Even though we agreed on midnight. He slept there.
My body must have given off some signal or something, because he pushed up on his forearms and stared down at me with an uncertain expression.
“Midnight,” I said in a quiet tone, aiming for calm. “We agreed on midnight.”
“Yeah, I know. But when we were leaving the hospital Claire was cryin’ for me to come with them. So I went. Spent the night in Claire’s room answering 101 questions about nothing. Next thing I knew, she was jumping up and down on top of me and it was morning. Sorry, Sassy.”
He expected me to believe him? “You fucked her, didn’t you?”
“You know,” he seethed, getting off me, off the bed, eyes narrowing to slits. “There’s another question you could’ve asked me to avoid unnecessary fuckin’ arguments. Another question that would’ve made me feel like you actually give a shit about more than my dick.”
I sat up in bed, using the sheets to cover me up.
Jahleel angrily dragged on his boxers. “A question that goes something like: ‘Will your daughter be okay?’ or ‘Was it anything threateningly serious? ‘“
Crap. I was awful. Here I was worrying about Marsha when the real deal was that his daughter was ill and he was being a good father by being there for her.
He didn’t give me a chance to apologize, though, as he went on. “You’ve got no idea how hard I worked to get to this point with her, for her to know who I am to her. I was a stranger to her, and now she fuckin’ cries for me. I missed four fuckin’ years of her life. This means a lot to me, Sassy.” Marching over to the bedroom door, he wrenched it open. “I’m her father, Saskia. She owns me, too.”
Ouch. I winced as he dropped that one and disappeared through the door.
She owns me, too.
Well, wasn’t that a wakeup call? Not like I was trying to shun his daughter or anything. It was Marsha who I didn’t like. Still, he was right. I should have acted like I gave a crap about his daughter. And I did. Care about Claire, that is. But I was so blinded with jealousy and distrust that I failed to see what was important.
Jahleel must really love me to put up with me and my nonsense.
Slipping out of bed, I plodded over to his chest of drawers and took out one of his plain white tees, pulling it over my head as I shuffled out the bedroom and went in search of him.
Found him in the kitchen arranging ingredients to prepare breakfast. His back was turned to me as he filled a kettle with water at the sink, but he must’ve felt my presence, because he spoke without turning around. “You’re never gonna trust me again, are you?”
I didn’t answer. Why bother? He knew it was the truth. Last time, he’d promised me exclusivity then went straight ahead and unapologetically cheated.
My memory catapulted back to that night.
Leave. I won’t be there.
He’d tried to get me to leave the house. Because he knew what he was going to do. Therefore, if I hadn’t been there to catch him in the act, he would’ve easily cheated and I wouldn’t have known about it. He would’ve carried on dating me as if nothing never happened, most likely having an affair with Krissy behind my back.
So, no, trusting him wholly again was miles away from here. And that was a problem. A huge problem. Because we were bloody engaged. About to get married. And there was absolutely no trust on my behalf.
Jahleel turned off the tap and set the kettle on the stove before turning around to face me, gripping the counter-top behind him. He almost read helpless.
“I know. It’s my fault. I’ve given you solid, inexcusable reasons not to trust me,” he said quietly, humbly. “But you have to believe me when I say you’re all I want. I’ve never been in a place like this before and I feel so fuckin’ helpless tryin’ to convince you at every turn. There was a time when I wanted nothing and no one. Now I want everything with you. But you don’t trust me and you don’t believe I’ll stay, and I don’t know how to keep you. I’m tryin’, but no matte
r how hard I squint, I can’t see any future happiness with us except for arguments, accusations, and assumptions. We’re just stuck in one fuckin’ place with no progress whatsoever and I can’t…”
What’s he saying?
I walked up to the kitchen island separating us, gripping onto its edges to stop my fingers from trembling. “What’re you saying, JK?”
Moving away from the sink, he came across to the island, standing opposite me, pressing his palms flat on the counter. “I’m saying, you need some time to yourself to figure out if this is what you want. If I’m what you want.”
Oh God, no. I gripped the counter harder, but my hands trembled anyway. “I don’t need time to myself to know that. Because that’s bloody easy. I’ve known since the very second you touched me in that dancing room back in Manchester. Yes, this is what I want. You’re who I want.”
“A man you can’t trust?”
“No—I…I just need time—”
“Exactly what I just said.”
“No!” I shouted, slamming my fists down on the counter. “Not that kind of time. Not time away from you. I meant that I need time to trust you again.”
“You need time overall, Sassy.”
“You are not the one to determine that!”
Jahleel pushed back from the island, grabbed his vegetable basket, cutting board and knife, brought them over and started chopping. “It wasn’t a suggestion, Saskia. I’m telling you to leave.”
“What?”
“Two weeks, come back and tell me what you decide.”
“You’re asking me to leave your house, your life?”
“Telling,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Not asking.”
He couldn’t look at me. He was playing tough, playing man, when he knew this was hard. He couldn’t even be an asshole with me anymore without me reading right through it. This was bullcrap and he knew it.
Rounding the island, I sidled up beside him, hand on my hip as I stared up at his side profile. He still wouldn’t look at me, his hands working as he chopped sweet peppers at professional-chef-speed.
“Look at me and tell me to leave,” I dared him.
“Don’t care for your games now, Saskia.”
“It’s Sassy. You call me Sassy!” He was the only person who called me by that name, and I cherished it. Now he was taking that away, too? “Look at me and tell me to leave, JK.”
When minutes ticked by and he did nothing but chop fucking vegetables, I tipped up on my toes so my lips reached up to his ears, and hissed, “I’m only going to leave because I think you’re the one who needs some time to figure out if this is what you want. Two weeks is all I’m giving you. And no, I’m not gonna do the whole ‘take the ring off and throw it at you’ thing. You gave me this ring. You asked me to marry you. This ring is mine. You are mine. And if two weeks passes by and your head is still stuck up your fucking shitty arse, I’m coming for you.”
As I lowered back down from my tippy toes, I thought I glimpsed something akin to a smile on his face. But that wasn’t verified, because his face was as hard as granite by the time I double checked to be sure.
Turning on my heels, I marched back to his bedroom and stole one of his boxers, hauled it on under the previously stolen white tee, scooped up my car keys from the dresser, and stormed back out.
As I passed through the living room, I looked across to the kitchen. Jahleel was still chopping away. There was a lot of chopped vegetables there. A lot more than I think he really needed for whatever he would be preparing. Not once did he look up as I stomped through the house and out the door.
If he thought he was backing out of this, he was sadly mistaking. Not a chance on this wretched earth I was giving him up. He wanted me to stop whining and accusing, I would, but he wasn’t leaving me, that’s for sure.
I eased into my Mercedes convertible and fucked-off down the driveway. When I braked at the gate to make a left turn out, I shot a glance into the rear view mirror to look back at the house.
And there standing at the window of his living room, was Jahleel. Watching me leave.
Something he knew deep down he didn’t want me to do.
“I love you, too, Jahleel Kingston,” I whispered to the rear view mirror as I drove off.
Leaving him alone to his guilt.
Chapter Four
“Have I ever told you that I love you? Well, I love you. So, so much. Like, really, really love you. Seriously. I mean, love as in love—”
“Okay! I get it, you love me,” I said through a laugh, cutting off Alina’s ebullience over the surprise party I threw for her eighteenth birthday.
The party was supposed to be a lot bigger, grander, but I’d completely forgotten to have Stacey, my assistant, set a reminder for Alina’s birthday, and ended up remembering when it was down to the wire. So at last minute, I settled on renting out an exclusive night club and whipped up something quick. Still ace, though.
I wanted to be the “cool mom,” after all.
Not just that, but because of the relationship hiatus I was suffering through, adding to the fact that she had a crush on Jahleel, I’d been a bit unreasonable with her of late. Which she didn’t deserve.
When I sat down with her a couple days ago to apologize for my moodiness, I was happy to learn that her Jahleel-crush had died a slow and painful death the minute she set eyes on her new friend’s older brother, Davian. The garage band lead singer, son of once-upon-a-time legendary rock star, Dave Hamilton. Which was precisely the reason I invited his band, Ice Steam, to play at Alina’s party.
Hence her exuberance.
Seemed Davian had eyes for her, too, as he’d been sneaking longing glances at her when she wasn’t looking, even with their age difference.
Davian was freshly twenty-five. Alina was freshly eighteen—though unbelievably more mature that her age.
As huge as her crush was on Davian, you’d never guess it if you saw them together. She was a complete woman around her crush, never gushing or blushing, never giggling or flustered. She would stare him right in the eyes and spoke to him without batting an eyelash.
Alina, I was in awe of her, that girl. I was a grown woman, and I couldn’t even do that with Jahleel. Even at this stage where we were engaged. I was still a dumb klutz around him.
As Alina’s brilliant smile dimmed, a solemn expression tinged with a hint of fear supplanted.
“What is it, Alina?” I asked her, touching her arm.
The gorgeous new adult was resplendent in a gold-toned cutesy dress cropped mid-thigh. Her hair—long, dark, and straight—flowed down her back. Minimal make-up, and an inherent beauty mark above the left of her upper lip. She was stunning.
Lion had been trying to get her to make a portfolio so he could land her a runway model deal ever since he laid sight on her. Damn Lion. All that man ever saw were dollar signs.
Alina ran her thumb-pad over the tops of her nude painted fingernails. Nervous. “I was wondering…um, Cousin is coming back next week and, um…”
“You want to continue living with me,” I finished for her.
The thumb-pad over the fingernails thing continued. “I really like living with you. And Amanda and Ferbie and Sylvie. Even Amy and Jamie, and my new friends next door. And the noise and the fun and the love and I feel like we’re a family and—”
She stopped yammering when I placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. “Alina, I wanted to steal you before he even asked me to keep you for a while, and I don’t intend on giving you back.
Her dark eyes flashed with a gleam of hope. “You think he’ll let me stay? He’s so overprotective and—”
“Scary?”
“Quite,” she affirmed, holding back a smile.
“Well, I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf. He broke my heart. I rebuilt it with bricks instead of straws this time. No way can he blow this Brit down.”
Just then, Davian came over to interrupt, giving me an apologetic smile. “S’cuse me, but is it alright if
I steal the birthday girl for a dance?”
Alina slid him a bored, uninterested glance then looked back to me. Fucking awesome.
Davian shifted on his feet. “You’re making me say ‘please,’ Ali. And I hate that frickkin’ word. Swear I’m a better dancer than Fresh Prince.”
Compressing my lips to fight back a smile, I watched as Alina looked at him again and shrugged, as though she were doing him a favor out of pity. She walked off ahead of him, and Davian had to catch up with her, snaking an arm around her waist.
Alina glanced over her shoulder back at me and, grinning, she mouthed, “Fight for me. Please.”
Oh, I would. I loved her too much. And I wasn’t afraid of her cousin as others seemed to be.
“You need to stop accusing me of breaking something I never had to begin with,” an all too familiar voice said from behind me.
I jumped at the deep, sexy rumble and spun around to see my sneaky ex-lover stepping out from his hiding spot behind a potted palm tree in a corner to the right.
My hot-as-hell ex-lover. Suave as usual, semi-formally dressed in jeans, dress shirt, and blazer. He looked fresh. Well-rested. Well-fed. Totally fuckable.
He looked like himself. Chad.
“Seriously?” I guiltily raked my gaze over him in a leisure ogle. “This a new hobby of yours, Chad? Camouflaging behind potted plants to eavesdrop on girls’ period talks? If you wanted to know what a tampon feels like up your arse, all you had to do was ask. I’d be happy to shove one up there for ya’.”
Chad raised a “not-funny” eyebrow at me, then came up and pressed a hand to my lower back, urging me forward as he ordered, “Walk.”
I fell in line with his strides. Not like I had a choice. He was practically pushing me along.
“You have no right touching me like this,” I muttered through a smile plastered on my face for the inquisitive eyes watching us as we wove through the throngs.
“You used to love it when I touch you like this,” he shot back, rebelliously making a swirl of his thumb on my bare skin, as my clothing was…sparse.
