by Amarie Avant
“Are you okay?” Raven called after William as he scurried away, through the dancing crowd.
“You might wanna come back with your bodyguards,” Liam assured Chris as he stepped close to him.
“It’s okay.” Raven tried to get in between them. It’s my prom night!
“Nah, bro,” Chris glared at his adversary. Then he looked at Raven, defeated. “Four years? That’s how you are gonna do me?”
It took a while, but Raven relaxed and enjoyed her date. When the DJ announced “All lovers to the dance floor,” Raven and Liam took to the floor for a slow dance. As the music played, Raven stood up on her tippy toes. She stole a kiss from the tip of Liam’s earlobe. “Babe, I’m ready to go.”
Liam searched her eyes for a moment before understanding her meaning. She was palpable in his hands. As all the blood from his brain rushed down low, he said, “You sure? This is the only prom you’ll ever have…”
“That’s true,” Raven replied, tasting his mouth. Soft and fleshy and pleasing was Liam’s bottom lip as she nibbled on it. He harshly squeezed one hand over her ass as warning, but only received a titillating moan, which made him go mad. Liam clasped her hand tightly and started to lead her to one of the exits.
Raven’s name was being called as one of the Prom Queen candidates. Hazel eyes ablaze, Liam looked to her, but she didn’t relent. So they rushed out of the gym like horny-ass teenagers.
“What if you were Prom Queen?” Liam asked as he pawed her freely.
“Overrated,” Raven murmured to the soundtrack of frogs croaking and crickets, they rushed to Liam’s car.
Liam hadn’t considered any extravagant hotels due to Raven’s curfew, and he was dressed in a custom tux, sitting in Annette’s favorite magnolia tree, which was right outside of Raven’s window. Raven had to be rehashing some of the prom night with her grandma after stepping into the house. He bit his bottom lip, waiting for her to come let him in. His cock strained against his pants. Being forced to linger gave him time to consider how slowly he wanted to unwrap the clothing from the love of his life.
The curtains opened slowly, and then the window. Raven stood there with a finger to her pink lips. Liam climbed inside.
“Shhh,” she said, heartbeat drumming in her ears.
“I am. You’re paranoid,” he whispered.
Then Liam found himself laid back on Raven’s bed. Instead of revealing the color of her bra or the material–lace or silk–of her thong, she straddled him in her dress. There wasn’t one sound as Raven breathed in the testosterone and patchouli cologne on his thick neck while unbuttoning his linen shirt.
“Do you know I hated Paris?” Raven’s hands roved down his bare chest. With each word, she kissed a trail. “Every single time I had to add your grandparents’ address to another letter for you, I hated it even more.”
“I’m sorry, Re.” He tried to catch her gaze, tried to understand her feelings, but she was making him go delirious.
“Then. You. Made. Me. Love. It.” Raven said, allowing her kisses to glide across each of Liam’s abdominal muscles. She began to unbuckle his belt, “Babe, you make me love...love.”
Liam sighed. “I love you too, Raven.”
He helped her tug his pants off. His dick plopped out and stuck up like the Eiffel Tower. As Liam tried to grab Raven to him, she pushed him away. “No, Liam, I want you.”
“I want you, too.” He leaned up on his elbows. For the first time since having sex, and he’d had a lot of sex, Liam felt out of control. Her hand gripped the base of his manhood. “Re…”
Warm and wet was Raven’s mouth as it slid down the head of his cock. She’d been invisible while girls talked about their latest sexcapades in the school locker room after phyiscal education. And she’d read countless Cosmo magazines the day after the museum, wanting to be more experienced for Liam.
Liam’s body sunk back down onto the pillows. Air whooshes out of his lips as she began to suck. This was her first time, and she was doing it very well. The back of Raven’s throat tightened around the top of his erection, a technique she highlighted in the magazine. Her moist mouth got to work.
“Shhhhhit,” Liam finally spoke up, at his brink.
“You like it?” Raven eyed him innocently while licking a trail up his thickness.
“I’m going fucking crazy.” Liam grabbed Raven by the waist. She giggled and then placed a hand over her mouth, blue eyes peering around the room.
Raven whispered in a bossy tone, “I wasn’t done. Now, don’t get us killed–”
Liam sealed a kiss over her lips. He breathed easily realizing she was just that innocent. There was no fucking way he’d spill his seed in her mouth their first time.
Instead he flipped the script, now she was below him. He silently thanked God that Raven was on the pill while allowing his dick to delve into her taut, wetness. Concentrating on pleasing her, Liam caught a rhythm. “Damn, you’re getting wetter and wetter for me,” he murmured against her ear.
“But I want to taste you again,” Raven said, eyes glazed as his manhood coaxed its way deeper.
He engulfed her mouth once more with a kiss. Raven moaned louder. It was as if sucking his cock had been as much as an addiction to her as it had been to him. With each thrust, she groaned into him, holding tightly to his bicep. Finally, when her body was spent with desire, Raven bit down on his neck so as not to scream out. At that very instant, he came inside of her.
“There’s no fucking way I’m ever letting you go,” he whispered against the hollowness of her collarbone.
~~~
A hummingbird perched on the magnolia tree outside roused Raven from sleep. Before turning to her side, she instinctively knew Liam was no longer next to her. A slip of paper from her old stationary was on the other pillow.
“Bitten neck. Scratches all over my arms and shoulders. And God’s most beautiful creation snores… Is it idiotic of me to want to see you again (very, very soon)?”
Raven scoffed, then her mouth curved into a full-blown smile. She’d remembered being a bit aggressive. After clutching the note closely, Raven’s lungs filled with air. The intense rush from seeing him every day was wonderful; but having to go their separate ways was torture. Longing ached in the pit of her stomach. I’m in love…
She recalled how Grandpa mentioned as much last week during a visit. Otis had even said “All I know is the boy better be good to you. I’ve called Liam ‘son’ a few times on camping trips, but that won’t stop me from showing him my shotgun, no matter how much I like ’em.”
Raven stifled a laugh as tears sprang into her eyes. Her grandfather knew her like the back of his hand. Yes, she was madly, deeply in love.
Laughter traveling through the house broke into her thoughts as Raven stared at the hummingbird. Most Sundays, Annette left home early to visit Otis at the hospital. Raven had missed church today because of prom, and hadn’t expected to hear her granny downstairs until later in the evening. Sunday dinners were no longer “Sunday dinners” while Grandpa was at the hospital. What could explain the laughter downstairs?
Peering beyond the magnolia tree, shading her bedroom window, she noticed cars in the driveway and scattered along the sidewalk. Spotting the Reverend’s car, her heart lodged in her throat. They often got together at the house of church members who had a death in the family.
Laughter? Grandpa…
Rushing to put on house shoes, Raven opened her bedroom door to be met by the sweet aroma of desserts. All of her concerns flowed away as she recognized Mrs. Jackson’s famous apple pies, Granny’s peach cobbler, and Mrs. Wimble’s sock-it-to-me cake. The sugar and spice made her stomach rumble.
It must have been Granny’s turn to host the “Baked Goods” church program. They often made desserts for members who were sick, disabled, or dealing with a family crisis. Sweets had this miraculous ability to make any boo-boo feel better, if only for a little while.
Sunlight streamed into the living room windows, and the a
ncient China on the dining room sparkled. Annette must not have visited with Grandpa Otis today, not with the way she liked to clean the house before hosting visitors.
In the kitchen, Raven was greeted by warm smiles from hardworking women. Mrs. Jackson, with her rosy cheeks, stopped peeling apples and hugged her goddaughter. Wimble, the smallest in a kitchen full of thickly boned women, turned off the mixer and hugged Raven next, followed by the rest.
“How was the prom?” Mrs. Jackson rubbed her hands together, smiling.
“Great.” Raven took a spoonful of the upside-down cake batter.
“You came in here for samples. Chile’, you ain’t been in this kitchen to help out in such a long time. You been smooching with Jonathan Junior on the dance floor all night.” Mrs. Wimble smiled big, fake teeth.
Raven picked up a peach and washed it off, turning away from them to blush. After biting into it, she replied, “Well, y’all haven’t baked nothin’ for a while.”
“Um-hum,” Mrs. Wimble said.
“Get off my goddaughter’s back. You know she in love,” Mrs. Jackson teased, making all the women laugh.
“No, she’s not in love.” Annette wagged her hand at all of the starry-eyed women. “Raven’s just good friends with the boy. Besides, Raven’s on her way to college–don’t have no time for no boys.”
“Hush, Nettie.” Mrs. Jackson waved Annette away, then winked at Raven while kneading dough. “Your gorgeous grandma used to be in love with every boy that came her way.”
“Oh, hush your mouth.” Annette waved off her friends’ words, placing foil over an apple pie on the counter. “Raven, take this to Mrs. Jenkins while it’s hot. You don’t need to be in this kitchen listening to these old ladies talking mannish.”
Tossing the peach pit into the trash can, Raven grabbed the pie and took the short walk to Alvin’s house. The heat from the bottom of the pan warmed her already sweaty palms. She inhaled the sweet fragrance, trying not to ponder about Alvin, disappointed that he wasn’t her father. After knocking on the door, she tapped her foot on the rickety planks, praying that chatterbox, Mrs. Jenkins, would answer.
The door opened, and Alvin appeared in the dark entryway. He ran a plastic Afro pick through the top of his short ’fro in annoyance. Then his eyes lightened as he noticed the pie in her hands.
“This is for your mom.” You don’t get any. Raven shoved the pie forward.
“She’s sleeping. I’ll give it to her.” Alvin took the pie. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Raven turned on her heels.
“I really ain’t your dad.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 17
“I thought we were going to see her today,” Raven pouted. Wind flowed through her hair as the Chevelle sped down the highway.
When she’d told Liam that Alvin confessed to being Charlene’s oldest friend, and always knowing where she was, Liam promised to make flight reservations. Pierre was on one of his treks, and he didn’t want to ask his nana to use another family jet. They were supposed to leave today, and had skipped school for this reason.
“It’s spring break in Southern California, Raven, I had to get redeye tickets for later this evening in order for us to travel together. It was too last minute,” Liam repeated.
Though he was being deceptive, he had a surprise in mind. Only a phone call was required before one of his family’s Learjets would be in North Carolina, gassed up just for him. Yet, intuition told him to stall. Stall like he’d done that one fateful day on the gorge, when he feigned more head pain than he’d really had. And look how that ended? Later on, Raven mustered enough courage to ask about her father.
A sort of sixth sense forewarned that finding Charlene might leave them in a worse fate than having a thirteen-year-old girl heartbroken over being shut down for just one simple question. Who was her dad? Who, really, was Charlene Shaw?
“We’ve got a late flight, this evening, Re. I promise we’ll get to L.A. soon enough,” he said taking a deep breath.
Raven grumbled.
“Hey, none of that frowning. I thought we were going to make this a relaxing day. No talk about family, friends, or enemies.” Liam turned to her for a split second, and added, “Just us.”
The smirk turned into a full-blown grin as she kicked off her flip-flops and crossed her legs, feet on the dashboard. Bright orange toenail polish showed flicks of gold in the early morning sun. It matched her camisole which was under an old pullover sweater.
“So where are we going?” If they weren’t going to find her mom today, she wanted to know where they were headed. When he grinned, she added, “We passed the gorge. C’mon. Tell me already!”
He’d told her to pack a bikini, which she wore under white Daisy dukes and her top. In the past, they swam at the gorge during summer. No matter how much she loved being near the water, she was happy when they passed by that particular one. She didn’t really want to go to the place where she first kissed Chris.
“We’ve gone to the gorge thousands of times as little kids, no gorge today.” With a wink, he flipped on the radio.
When he took to the highway, heading to the beach, she asked, “Are you taking me back to the lighthouse?” They’d been there a month ago, and she wanted to go back.
“Nope.”
She gave a slight frown of disappointment as they passed the entrance. Pulling her hair to the side, she braided it over her shoulder, then unbraided it, again asking where they were going.
“Don’t worry, ReRe. Today will be a good day.” He took her hand in his, holding it on Raven’s thigh. Just that simple touch sent a lightning bolt through her leg.
After staring at their entwined hands for a while, she looked up. They were headed toward a dock. He swooped the Chevelle in between a shiny gray luxury camper and a new Mercedes AMG. She watched as he pulled a wicker picnic basket out of the trunk. He slammed it closed, stuffing his keys in a pocket of his khaki shorts. Taking her hand, they walked down to the docks.
“Wow, these are yachts, huh?” Raven slowed down, mouth open wide. There were long pointy ones with slick designs. Some even had a Jacuzzi on the back. Her neck tilted up as she looked at the tall ones with two stories. She stopped at one with shiny orange paint and purple trim, whistling. He gave her waist a little tug, and she reluctantly kept moving.
“That’s Elise,” Liam said, when she looked at a multi-tier, white yacht with black tinted windows. “Grand-père Pierre got it for my mother’s birthday a few years ago.”
“Oh,” was all Raven could say as she looked the yacht up and down. It was huge. There was a side bar with silver stools and fluffy dark green seats. There were olive-green and white striped lounge chairs, and a covered Jacuzzi. To the opposite side, a round booth with cream-colored seats and fluffy dark green pillows. She stepped toward it, waiting for him to tell her how they’d get onto it.
Liam laughed and shook his head. “We’re not getting on that.”
On the opposite side of Elise was a small, shiny black sailboat. It wasn’t really small, but compared to the Elise, it was. By any other standards it was huge–bigger than the rowboat she’d gone fishing with Grandpa and Uncle Oscar. The glossy black color contrasted perfectly with the bright white interior. Her eyes stopped at the white cursive on the backside, he’d named it…Raven.
“This one is all mine,” he said, chest puffed out, looking all the stronger in his blue flannel shirt.
~~~
She’d tried to help him as they sailed, but her mind was just as foggy as the early morning sky, so she wasn’t able to recollect the names of all the “whatchamacallits” and how they operated. The boat kept teeter-tottering. Hands cradling her stomach, Raven pulled the sweater over her head. She felt nauseated in the salty, morning wind. The mist made her feel clammy. Raven watched as he shifted stringy thingies from the sail and prayed that her breakfast sandwich would stop flip-flopping in her stomach.
“…And then you have to…” His voice
got carried away by the breeze.
Turning around, Raven leaned over the side of the boat, throwing up into the beautiful, blue-gray water. Chunks of eggs and bread twined in the sudsy sea as it hit the side of the boat.
“Raven, are you okay?” Liam’s voice sounded far away, but at least the wind was carrying it in her direction.
Screaming, she closed her eyes. Her body was being lifted from the air and she felt like she was going overboard. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. She stumbled back onto Liam, and they tumbled on the floor. Laughing hysterically, she wiped her lips, getting the excess throw-up splatter before he saw it.
“I’m sorry.” Raven scrambled off of him.
“It’s okay.” His voice sounded weak. There was blood coming from his nose.
“I’m so sorry.” Raven hurried to her sweater, trying to balance herself as she hurried to wipe his nose before the red liquid stained his shirt.
“Owww, you’re a bit rough.” He took the sweater from her. She grimaced. He gave a reassuring smile, and then dabbed his nose.
She looked away and closed her eyes with a frown. I’m an idiot! Cupping her hands to her mouth, she did a breath check. Not good. I suck! This was supposed to be romantic–the calm before the storm of meeting Charlene...
“Sorry,” she apologized one last time.
“It’s okay.” His head tilted back, he pinched his nose with the sleeve of the sweater. “Let’s just get back to the dock.”
When they got there, Liam tied up the boat. Then he told her to come onto the Elise and look around while he got a blanket. They were moving on to plan two. He dropped the still unopened picnic basket on the stairs at the entryway of the yacht and helped Raven climb down.
“Do you still feel like you’re on the boat?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He pulled the keys out of his pocket and opened the sliding glass doors.
They stepped into what appeared to be a living room as Raven took in the scene–glossy, dark wood wall-to-floor panels. Suede, beige fluffy couches were so soft-looking she was almost compelled to run and jump on it. A glass coffee table with big sea shells linked together as a stand. She felt like putting her ear to them to hear the ocean, just to see if the shells were as real as they looked.
