by Love Belvin
Oh wow!
I wanted to ask if it offended him when I drank, but was too afraid of the potential answer, so I didn’t. But it made sense now, although I’d had a feeling about it anyway.
“And no, it doesn’t bother me that you drink.” He answered the dormant question anyway. “Although it’s one of your favorite pastimes, you seem to handle it responsibly. But I’m ready to cash in my question now.”
A shiver ran through me at that notion, but it was only fair.
“Okay,” I breathed.
“What are you mixed with?” I felt his hand finger through my blonde curls, adoringly.
That had my heart pounding against his arm. It was a question I was saturated with as a child. Back then my imagination was strong and wherewithal thicker. I’d make up fun characteristics and genealogy of my father to entertain myself while satisfying the curiosities of others. Now, I’m too old to give folks a fantasy.
“I don’t know.”
He stilled behind me.
“How could that be?”
“My mother and father separated when I was small. I have vague memories of him, but didn’t know his family to gain that part of my heritage. My mother refused to talk about him for years, when I was young and eventually I got tired of caring to even ask. I’ve heard whispers of him being Hispanic and then my first cousin told me once she heard her mom, my aunt, say he’s French. I stopped caring and accepted my inconvenient truth.”
“Which is?” he didn’t skip a beat.
“Which is, it’s hard to know love when you don’t know who you are. Much of the reason I exploited my body as a kid was because I was never taught to cherish it. That’s self-love. In church, as a kid, I could never grasp the concept of God is love. And the inconvenient truth is I don’t know…can’t identify it. Even when I had a husband, I had no remnants of it.” I shrugged. “But I have me. And I’m learning that I can survive without anything else.”
Things grew quiet and I decided on the comfort of silence. I was getting sleepy and Jackson’s soothing strokes on my scalp only enhanced it. But I fought it, because I had more questions.
“I want to do a question exchange,” I murmured.
His glorious hand movements ceased. “Cash in? From when?”
“From two weeks ago at my apartment when you asked about my affinity to black lace.”
I could hear the cogs of his mind going.
“Fine,” he uttered with hidden annoyance.
“Where do you go on Sunday mornings?”
Jackson exhaled deeply behind me, releasing goose bumps atop my skin. I knew I was pushing, but lying there with a man’s semen seeping from you will bring you to this level of familiarity.
“To see about my father’s business.” I recoiled at the rejection in those words. Jackson, sensing it, pulls me in tighter. “I don’t mean to be standoffish,” he spoke soothingly into my ear. “It’s just a difficult and complicated subject, sweetheart. And not one I share with anyone.”
I wanted to assure him he could share it with me, but how accurate would that be? Yes, I was acquainted with undisclosed demons, but did I have the capacity for someone else’s?
I felt Jackson gathering me. I didn’t know what he was doing until I ended up on my back with him planted between my legs and his erection jutting in the air with wicked vitality. And then his lips were just inches from mine, torturing me with the proximity.
“When you come, your nipples tighten to pebbles.” He reared to position himself at my lubricating opening. Jackson dips his head to capture my right nipple in his mouth, sucking it with a hollow jaw. “These pebbles are a shade of russet with a rose hint. I want to see that again.”
And without preamble, he thrust into me, filling me to the hilt.
Two hours later, I was awakened by unbearable heat. I opened my eyes to Jackson, sprawled out over me, his long limbs entwined with mine. Milk chocolate over French Vanilla. Though thrilled by the combination, it doesn’t last too long. I nudged him to an awakening frantic at the idea of Candice finding out I was screwing her brother. For some reason, I knew that would be a form of betrayal for her young psyche though I didn’t know why; I wasn’t her peer. It was bad enough I was irrationally fine with sleeping with Jackson knowing Stephanie was in love with him—whatever the hell that meant.
Jackson and I cleaned up and tiptoed out and into the garage at my insistence. Once again, I noticed the fleet of luxury vehicles. I recalled Valerie wanting the Austin-Healey 3000 gone.
My inquisitive mind was still at work when I asked, “What’s the hold up?”
Jackson tossed me a bemused glance over his shoulder on his way to his car.
“Your dad’s convertible. Why haven’t you gotten it repaired yet?”
I could see realization settling upon his face. Jackson shrugged as he opened the car door for me. “I don’t know. Time, I guess. I wish I could just wake up one day and have it repaired, but life’s not that simple, right?” He issued a rueful smile as I dipped into the car.
I gazed at the Austin-Healey while Jackson crossed the front of his car and got in.
“What will you do once it’s rebuilt?” I asked, still gaping at the sports car against the wall of the garage, feeling an eerie sense of dread from its neglect.
Its owner was deceased and now there was no one to tend to it. The car’s sleek build told of vivacity and adventure, so unlike the image before me of waste and negligence. Why I was so drawn to this small vehicle, I had no idea, but I did understand it held a piece of history to my exceptional fascination sitting next to me now.
“Ride it. Drive out on an open highway against the water.” There was a small gleam in Jackson’s eyes at that description. It was also accompanied by a forlorn smile.
“Hmmmmmm…” I sighed as I relaxed into my seat, enjoying the sound and feel of the roaring engine as we pulled out of the garage, headed to the city.
Since our disastrous trip back to my hometown, Jackson and I seemed to have spent more time together, personally of course, but also for the business of Dynamic Branding. We took on lots of social events together, vetting prospective clients and spreading the word of our existence and mission. We worked well together, this was noted by associates as well as Jackson’s partners at J.G., Wizer and Hunter. Jackson’s and my business chemistry was almost as remarkable as our sensual magic. Almost. Nothing topped our erotic accord and that continued to concern me.
Doing these rounds of social marketing gave the awful pretense of dating when I got the opportunity to get dressed up and feel courted by Jackson in formal dapper garments. The penetrative gleam in his eyes each time he’d see me dressed for an event communicated more than my blackened heart could manage or perceive. While I would trick my mind into thinking it was consuming lust, I knew it was more even if I couldn’t quite articulate what that ‘more’ meant.
But invariably, Jackson would douse the somber moment with the question, “Borrowed or bought?” At first, I didn’t catch the meaning until he recalled my sharing with him my JAGMisha Fashion Club activities. That would set the mood of the evening with me getting caught up in a giggling fit that lasted long enough to relax the rigid muscles around Jackson’s eyes and lips into a face lit with so much contentment it scared me. But it was oddly powerful enough to relax me, too.
fourteen
“Believe me when I say, you’re in great hands, StentRo. I wouldn’t entrust you to anything less,” Jackson assured his friend.
“Oh, please believe, I do.” I could detect a bit of urban dialect from Stenton Rogers, star player of the Philadelphia 76’ers.
I was rarely star struck, but couldn’t deny the spasm of excitement mixed with dizzying disbelief of sitting directly across from him, but wouldn’t dare express it. Stenton was extremely tall and…handsome as fuck. I mean, he was no Jackson; the two men had two unique swaggers. Jackson was the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air while Stenton was a hood guy with rocker tendencies. Their twangs were diffe
rent as well, considering they were both New York tri-state natives. Stenton’s multitudinous tattoos varying in color and shape presented him as dangerous, forbidden, and sinfully intriguing. However, his warm demeanor and impressive articulation made him less intimating. And the fact that he was extremely fond of Jackson oddly won him over in my head.
It was about two weeks after sending Candice off on a date with Trevor and we were meeting with Stenton, affectionately known as StentRo by his associates and fans, to introduce me to him. Jackson was handing me his file. He’d been considering Stenton’s retirement transition and had several corporate endorsement offers to sift through, for which he needed dedicated eyes on it. He’d also been receiving offers in whispers from major sports stations for hosting and commentating roles. All of these things needed to be strategically vetted to ensure a lucrative shifting for his brand. From my understanding, Stenton Rogers was Quincy Hunter’s first official and unofficial client.
“I know, bruh, but I don’t want you to think this wasn’t thoroughly considered seeing that Elle is also the lead for Erika Erceg’s account. I totally get that’s old hat, but Stent, you’re family, not just a client.”
Stenton flipped his wrist, dismissing Jackson’s concerns. “Water under the bridge, Jax, trust, man. I wish Erika and the Erceg’s the best. I’m still in touch with Erik. My passings with his sister have always been amicable.”
Jackson nodded. “Glad to hear that. Now, on to personal business: how’s Zo making out with this pregnancy?”
“You can ask her yourself.” Stenton checked his wrist for the time. “She should be here any minute. She needs to hurry her ass,” he growled. “She had a staff meeting at her bakery in Jersey.”
“What are you two going to do in the city?”
“Shit,” Stenton gave noncommittally. “We’re gonna check out Ezra’s Bible study tonight and chill the hell out, kid-free for the next two days before I have to leave for Washington.”
“Sweet.” Jackson noted. “I know JR’s gonna miss his number one.”
Stenton scoffed. “JR is in the land of MaMa and PaPa. They’re taking him on a playdate with his girlfriend”—Stenton used air quotations—“trust when I say, my little man ain’t checking for his old man at all.”
“Nice!” Jackson smiled his rare megawatt smile, expanding my chest cavity in delight. I’d be damned if that simple occurrence didn’t do things to me. “Are we there already?”
“Man, Jordan gets more play than I do, seems like.” Stenton laughed at that one, eyes shrinking beautifully and Jackson followed, only his aroused me.
“I guess I’m not all that late.” We all glanced up to find a slim woman with warm bronzed almond skin and thick tresses pulled back into a ponytail, highlighting her high cheek bones as she smirked.
Her style was extremely simple: teardrop diamond earrings, three-quarter brown bubbled goose for the arctic winter temps, blue jeans underneath and brown Ugg boots. Her eyes bounced between Jackson and Stenton with a gleam. For a moment she paid a glimpse to me and offered a polite wink.
Upon recognition, Stenton leaped to his feet with stark athleticism. “Shit, you ain’t,” his tone taut.
Jackson laughed coolly. “Hey, Zo.” He stood to greet her, that simple gesture sending a bitter wave of jealousy through me. Not because he touched another woman, but because of the radiating affection he had for her. I, for some pathetic reason, wished I had that level of intimacy with him. “You’re glowing. No sickness, I see.”
“The only sickness to speak of is the pain in my rear end from this guy,” she referred to her husband whose arms were wrapped around her like a vine. This was weird to experience. The Stenton Rogers the world knew, years ago, was grimacing and detached, but with two women on his arms, leaving the bar after having a fight, or the police station after having been bailed out from a fight. This Stenton Rogers was a new being. Even in his days with Erika, he seemed angry with life. But today his aura was light and now with his wife at his side, he actually beamed, happiness seeping from every pore as he regarded each inch of her being in his arms. “And you, Jax, with these darn cupcakes you requested from Niña’s Sweet Cakes.” She handed him a box with the logo on it. “I didn’t know you had a particular liking for cupcakes.”
“I don’t,” Jax clarified as he passed me the box. “They’re not for me. But anyway, I want you to meet Elle Jarreau. She’ll be taking over Stenton’s file for me while I focus on other things in my portfolio.” He turned to me. “Elle, this is my savior, Stenton’s beloved wife, Zoey Barrett-Rogers—”
“Rogers,” Stenton interjected. “It’s just Rogers.”
“My bad,” Jackson feigned corrected. “I just know Zoey…anyways.”—he dismissed the thought—“Elle, you may want to get acquainted with Stenton’s leash here. It may be beneficial somewhere down the line.”
While chuckling at Jackson’s teasing at Stenton’s expense, I extended my arm to greet Zoey. She had an inviting spirit, something familiar to it. Zoey smiled kindly as she reciprocated.
“Elle is my number one rep. She’s a damn Rottweiler in designer garb. I have no concerns of her abilities.” Jackson regarded me with a certain gleam, erasing my previous jealousies. The world seemed to have stopped. Damn the magic you have over me! He then continued with his lighthearted banter as he turned back toward Zoey and Stenton. “I’m glad to be able to lay my eyes on you as a married woman, seeing that I didn’t get an invite.”
That piqued my interest. I never saw coverage of Stenton Rogers’ wedding, only heard he’d married his son’s mother out of the blue.
“Oh, don’t be cute, Jackson. It was either marry him right away or continue to be miserable. You know this guy is über demanding.”
On a chuckle, Jackson pinched his chin. “Nah, I didn’t. You don’t say.”
Zoey blew out air as her eyes widened. “So, you think he’s been checking his watch for the past twenty minutes just because he wanted to see my face? You get the cupcakes in that box, your boy here hasn’t been home in a week; he has a particular fondness for a different type cupcake I produce exclusively and gets cranky at the delayed delivery of it.”
My mouth dropped and Jackson’s neck and shoulders went in the same directions at catching the analogy.
In one rapid motion, Stenton turned Zoey 180 degrees in his arms.
“Holy mother of—” she yelped in utter shock.
Stenton swooped down until their mouths were inches apart. “Shut the hell up, Niña,” he growled before taking her mouth.
It was sheer insight into their love life. Stenton Rogers was completely taken by this around-the-way—and apparently feisty—young woman.
Jackson faced me with amusement bouncing from his eyes. Was he accustomed to this open display of intimacy from them? I had to remember to breathe.
When he released her, Zoey’s eyes were hooded and voice turned husky as she studied her husband’s face that was taut with lust.
“Did he tell you about his baptism, Jax?” she murmured, still unable to remove her gaze.
“Yeah. So, Ezra wore him down,” Jackson remarked with humor in his tenor.
That’s when Stenton broke his heated regard of Zoey. “He didn’t. I made the decision on my own. Not a hard decision for me.” Stenton went to grab his things from the table as he spoke.
“You think he can do anything with that blasphemous mouth of yours?” Jackson jeered.
“I’m working on it,” Stenton cringed. “But if the big Man upstairs accepts me and she”—he tossed a glance at Zoey—“can’t get enough of me, don’t judge, Hunt.”
While I didn’t think Stenton was seriously offended, I could tell his foul mouth had been a common topic of criticism for him.
“We’re working on it,” Zoey offered with less concern.
She then began to regard Jackson and me suspiciously. It was eerie and blatant, but I didn’t sense any malevolence, so I didn’t address it as Stenton and Jackson exchanged m
anly hugs. When they were done, I offered my hand to Stenton and told him I looked forward to working with him.
Before I could part my mouth to Zoey, she’d already had me pulled into her small frame in a clutching embrace.
When she released me, she smiled contently. “Why don’t you guys join us in Melbourne in June after Stenton’s season is over? It’ll be my first time in Australia and sure to be a blast and my last time traveling before delivering.”
I was stunned into silence and apparently, so was Jackson, who stood with his mouth agape as his eyes went between Zoey and me, trying to figure how it had been revealed that quickly.
Stenton must’ve caught on to his wife’s sharp perceptive abilities because I caught the moment his mouth opened and closed at Jackson’s duress.
“Zo, it’s time to roll, baby. I have some Christmas shopping lined up for us before service tonight,” he murmured, taking her at the shoulders.
“Oh, so, we’re going to play it like that, huhn?” Zoey challenged. When we were still unable to speak to provide a response, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll wait.”
Without many more words being exchanged, the Rogers left Jackson and me alone, shocked into oblivion. It took Jackson less time to shake it off.
“Have a seat, Elle.” With one hand in his pocket, he used the other to gesture to our table.
As I settled into my seat, the sight of the cupcake box caught my attention.
“Am I really slacking on my diet restrictions that you have cupcakes hand delivered from New Jersey from the owner?” I asked sardonically.
Jackson snorted gently. “No, Elle. Though I do enjoy the new curves.”
I recoiled at that comment. It was a sensitive topic because I’d put on several pounds over the past two months, thanks to Jackson. Between our late night eating after sexual excursions and early morning romps where he’d cook for me afterward, my hips had been widened. Secretly, I liked the added inches, but was concerned about it getting out of control. My exercising had slowed as well because our sex life had been sporadic and frequent. We’d been spending lots of time together. It was clear to me, this cut buddy affair had adverse side effects.
