by Love Belvin
I swiped a nipple and heard her suck in air between her teeth over my head. I licked again and again then sucked while rolling the right one between my fingers. Parker rolled her hips over me again, making this so dangerous for me. More than a blow job, I wanted to be buried inside her.
She whimpered, grabbing the back of my head. That shit even turned me on. Her head over mine and elbows on my shoulders, grinded over me. My mouth was wet, slipping over her boobs. I pulled them together and ran my tongue back and forth.
“Mmmmm…” she moaned and I felt her body shiver. “I’m ready,” she whispered in my ear.
I wasn’t. I could’ve sucked on her perky tits all night but I stopped, pushing back against the pillows to let her handle her business. It didn’t take her long to undo my belt and shorts. She moved down my legs and pulled my throbbing dick out. I looked at her, peeped the lust in her eyes, and heard the heaviness in her breathing over the music.
She fisted me first. Her eyes were stapled to mine as she caressed me in her soft hands. I cocked my head to the side, mesmerized by her touch and the site of her. When she reached over and put her mouth on me, my eyes closed like I was free falling on a rollercoaster. I sucked in a heap of air at the first stroke of her tongue. She worked until my whole cock was coated with her and my head rolled. This was more than being waxed. This was Parker being bold, sexy, and aggressive. I could handle this. I could give her what she wanted and not go gorilla on her. But, damn, I wanted to be ass naked with her, running my tongue over every inch of her body. The same way she curled her tongue around me when she pushed down and widened it coming up. My hips started to move with her. I grabbed the back of her head, gripping her at the roots.
That’s when she slowed. Her head lifted and I wanted to ask if I did something wrong. But I couldn’t have.
Parker crawled up my body and kissed me. Hard. She moaned into my mouth when I grabbed her head, pulling her to me.
“Rut…” I opened my eyes to her. “You haven’t said happy birthday.”
I felt her shift over me, coming closer.
Silly ass…
My grin was big as hell. “Happy bi—”
Then we connected. The hairs of her pussy moved against the head of my cock, and I knew what time it was.
“Parker,” I grunted, my eyes closed and hands shot in the air as though it was a stick up.
“Happy…” she grunted, pulling the head of my cock to her opening and squatting down. “Birth—” She sucked in a breath through her teeth again. “day, Ms. Grayson.”
She struggled at first. I grabbed her at the waist to keep her still.
“Don’t.”
“Huhn? You got a few in you.”
I didn’t want her hurting herself.
“I put a few in me to kill my nerves for this. To buffer me for your rejection. Don’t make me go and get more.”
Our breathing was loud as we stared at each other like warriors. My fear was all this good shit falling apart.
“I ‘on’t wanna fuck this up, Gray,” I begged her like a bitch, wanting her at the same damn time.
“You won’t.” She inched closer. “I won’t let you.”
Her lips met mine and the decision was made. I wrapped my arms around her small back, bit into her chin, and helped her navigate her hips until she fit me all the way in.
My fuckin’ life…
My spine seemed to have disappeared for a minute. She felt so damn good. Her thighs moving against my waist, her pussy quaking around my raging dick. I felt shit I never had. In the moment, while feeling everything, I realized I didn’t usually think when fucking. I just handled my biz. With Parker, my mind was sensitive to everything, like the first time we did this. Just like now, I could hear her soft wheezing as she clutched my shoulders.
She giggled. “I don’t think I remembered how big you are,” she breathed.
This was sweet, slow, fucking romantic—some shit I ain’t do. But it was cool to do with her. It was something I’d been wanting for so long but was in no rush to risk. But shit, we were here. Her smell drove me crazy. The taste of her nipples made me wild. And the feel of the muscles in her back moving in sync with the ones in her shoulders and stomach told me how determined she was to put in work.
“Oooh…” she moaned over my head while I sucked on her tits. Her soaking pussy rocked faster around me, throbbed around me. “Ohhhh!”
The tips of her fingers pressed into my neck and her back curled backwards. Licking and sucking, biting and teasing had her folded legs tightening around me. I felt every-fucking-thing.
Feel. Every. Fuck—
Oh, shit!
I wasn’t wearing a cape. How the fuck did I forget to strap the hell up?
Then she started plopping up and down in my lap, her rhythm unsteady. Shit. My girl was coming.
Her breathing was harsh, head flung back, and hips still rolling over me.
“So good…” she heaved. “Rut.” I started plowing into her, excited as hell to see this new, free, and incredibly fucking sexy vixen dancing on my lap. “The best!” she groaned. “Oh, the best!”
That’s when I lost it. My balls drew up out of nowhere and I blasted into her, losing my goddamn mind.
And a chunk of my soul…
“Oh, baby!” I cried, rubbing the underline of my breasts with the palms of my hands and pinching my taut nipples between my thumbs and index fingers.
Rut’s face was buried at the apex of my thighs. His tongue kissed my engorged nub, his two fingers winding in my tremoring sex.
“Come, Park,” he lifted briefly to demand. “I need to hear it again.”
Then he reached underneath me with both hands, cupping my butt and lifting it to his mouth as he stood on his knees. I lay in the air, balanced on my shoulders. He was an intimating vista from this angle. He was broad, muscular, and teeming with unbridled stamina. We’d been at this for two rounds already, and he’d made my body quake as many times. He, himself, had detonated inside me just minutes ago. And here he was, determined to have me skip galaxies once again.
And I did. My hips bucked, head rolled back on its crown, and legs locked over his shoulders. Not only did I explode in his mouth, my petal opened to him as it had been for weeks now.
My eyelids were weakened, body boneless. Rut’s tongue teased my tender clitoris.
“Stop!” I laughed as I jerked at his shoulders.
His cheeks rose in mirth as he performed his last stroke. Then he lowered my legs, laying my full body on the mattress. I noticed his excessive blinking as he backed off the bed. Rut rubbed his eye with the back of his hand. I turned over in the bed and hummed with contented exhaustion as I watched him.
“I’mma shower and get some menus to order for dinner,” his delivery was throaty.
Rut was tired. And as he peeled off the used condom and turned for the bathroom in his bedroom, I was reminded how fit he was by the view of his wide back and tapered waist. Rut’s ass was amazing, too. The man was perfection to me. And I was addicted to having him around.
Two weeks ago we kicked off our sexual affair with real intercourse, and each day since, we’d been together. We’d spoken, slept together, celebrated together, and sexed each other with liberty I never thought I’d have in my circumstances. We’ve learned he enjoys my soaps as much as he did my oils. I was there when he got the call from his agent about another endorsement deal. We lay in bed at night, counting our childhood scars and sharing the stories behind them. He crept into the front office just to steal kisses in the janitor’s room. I endured the heavy arousal it caused as well as his musky frame from working out and running plays.
He’d let me drive his Ferrari—insisted that I borrow it to be exact—when my old Benz from my grandfather conked out on me before church a couple of weeks ago. Because it was an older model, it had been a task finding someone to repair it at a reasonable price for days. Until that happened, Rut practically pushed me into his sexy convertible California, mak
ing it available at my disposal. I’d been in a “Rut Zone” and enjoying it. Nurse Jackie mentioned me finally experiencing the life of a woman my age, even if just a little. Maybe she was right. Either way, I’d been filled with a piece of joy new to me. But it hadn’t been stress free.
Jordan Johnson, the Kings’ franchise wide receiver, married Cole Richardson, who so happened to be the owner’s daughter and an executive in the front office. It was a Kings’ celebration Rut attended…with Emily Erceg. That was the longest day of my life, it seemed. Hours of checking all social media handles for pictures. Googling Rut and Emily’s name for updates on the day. Each image I saw of them was scrutinized for the slightest bit of genuine happiness. Or chemistry. Or attraction. Or flirtation.
Ughhh!
The memory of that day still burned me. Although I understood the business aspect of it, I hated seeing him with another woman. I didn’t care if anyone knew he slept in my bed every night; I didn’t want them believing he had the slightest attachment to someone else. The only upshot of that day was him sending me silly selfies and knowing Emily had to be on a plane that night.
Probably back to her lover…
It didn’t matter. That evening, while Mr. and Mrs. Jordan Johnson were consummating their new union, Rut and I were mimicking them in the shower after I washed the scent and fingerprints of Emily from his robust frame.
Things had been happening fast and unexpectedly. Sometimes too fast for me. I’d been here to his place three times within the past two weeks. The first two were just for an hour or two on the days I worked at the front office, and I had to forego my lunch to makeup the time for it. We filled that limited time with the craziest, most explorative sex I’d known.
Rut being the aggressor he could be, made a big fuss of me never having stayed the night. He was so fixated on the idea, he sparked a conversation with Nurse Jackie one day last week and texted Mandee to arrange tag-team care so I could stay with him tonight. The determined man did half the plotting behind my back but I’d acquiesced, knowing I could FaceTime whenever I needed, and Jimmy could hear my voice as well as see my face. I knew he wasn’t happy, yet also knew he was safe.
I sighed, rolling over to my reach for my phone. After sending a short checkin text to Mandee, who was now with Jimmy, I did the mindless social media troll. Over the past month or so, Eli Richardson’s friend, Azmir Jacobs, had been in blogs’ headlines. I hadn’t seen any major coverage of it, but apparently, a documentary that had been floating around since the spring had been gaining notoriety. I faintly recalled that topic popping up in their conversation back in…March, which was coincidentally, the last time I’d seen Azmir Jacobs.
The repeated headlines littered down my ‘Explore’ page on Instagram was how the documentary that was once being consider getting picked up by HBO, Netflix, and Stars had been shut down. Apparently, the director recanted a few details in the piece. No matter how many times I tapped on an image, I couldn’t find why. Which details were shaky? Did it include Azmir Jacobs’ mentions?
Rut opening the door to the steamy bathroom broke my attention. An envy-worthy towel clung to his carved hips. And he wore…glasses. Thick plastic frame glasses. Coke bottle glasses.
He barely glanced my way when he muttered, “I’m going to get the menus. There’re a few good restaurants over here.”
And he was out of the room, closing the door behind him. Behind it, I could hear the galloping clanks of Sharkie’s paws. It had been comical to see how much of a child Rut turned into when with his gigantic Tosa. My phone vibrated in my hand.
Mandee: We’re heavily engaged in a tap dancing lesson. Leave us alone.
I laughed at that and typed back I’d be FaceTiming for verification soon. As much as I trusted Mandee, there was still a palpable anxiousness and unmoving guilt from being away from Jimmy like this.
“What the hell’s so funny?” Rut was plopping down on the bed before I registered his presence.
“Mandee. She’s a riot.” I tapped my phone to get back to Instagram and finish the last article I was skimming through about Azmir Jacobs.
“Yup,” he agreed. “My girl.”
“Oh! She’s your girl now? Last month you barely returned her greetings.”
“That’s ‘cause I ain’t know how real she was. Plus, she’s about her paper.”
“She’s about her paper because she accepted your proposal to stay with Jimmy tonight?”
“Yup. And next Friday so I can sleep in late with you on my chest.”
My mouth dropped. “Rut!”
“What?” he reached behind the plastic frames and pinched his nose.
“You wear glasses?”
“I’m blind,” his voice bland.
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is I hardly wear my glasses, which is why my damn eyes are so dry now.” He rubbed his eyes.
“How is it that I’ve been sleeping with you every night all this time and I didn’t know you were visually impaired?”
He turned to face me, and for the first time, I saw just how bad it was. Rut’s lenses were so thick, his eyes looked distorted through them. I would have laughed if I didn’t find him so freaking adorable right now.
Rut Amare, king of assholes and jokers, is blind as a bat!
“How you think I got the Alcon/Opti Free endorsement? Go ‘head. You can crack ya best joke, and it won’t be nothing I ain’t never heard. I tell that to every nigga who try to clown me over it. And after that, I tell ‘em I don’t need these shits to see enough to fuck ‘em up.”
I laughed. “And what do you tell women?”
He shrugged, going back to rubbing his eyes. “I ‘on’t have chicks in my room. I ‘on’t have them hanging around my crib.”
“You’re so tough. What do you have to say to me?”
“That I ‘on’t need these shits to make you scream my name.”
A pulse of pleasure lit across my belly at that. I didn’t doubt him at all.
“Uhn-huhn,” he hummed cockily. My Rut. “Look at you, biting ya lip.”
“But how did I not know all this time?”
“Because I been sleeping in my contacts, some shit I ain’t supposed to be doing. It’s catching up to me now.”
“Then you should bring your glasses when you come over. We can use them to role play,” my voice turned dark, sultry.
I could see a tent rising underneath his towel. When he saw me gaping, Rut handed me a small stack of menus while snatching the phone from my hand. “What you got going on over here?” he playfully growled. “Hmmm!” he hummed again, reading. “Oh, damn. He back in town?”
My brows narrowed. “Who?”
Rut peered over to me and blinked, clearly caught between thoughts. “Nobody. You see what you want? I’m hungry.”
My regard went to the menus in my hands and I began going through them. Indian, Japanese, Soul Food… Thai looked tempting. I opened that one and browsed the columns.
“You know…” his deep vocals called my attention. “I’ve been thinking—”
“Oh, brother…” I droned playfully.
“Nah. For real. What you’ve been doing with your cosmetic line is dope. You actually got some quality shit. My moms, who swears everything breaks out her sensitive skin, hit me up yesterday wanting more soap and lotion. She want some for her girls, too. She said her neck marks from tweezing has been clearing up.”
When Paula was here a few weeks ago for Rut’s WAWG coverage, I sent her a few of my products as a warm gesture. I’d forgotten all about it.
“That’s amazing.” My eyes were back on the Thai menu, deciding.
“What I’m tryna say is you should go legit with it.”
“How?” I handed him back the Thai menu. “The veggie Penang.” I pointed to it.
“Like broaden your exposure. Increase sales.”
“How?” I stuck out my tongue, being silly.
“Trademark…file a patent. How ‘bout proper l
abeling and business insurance? Go to stores who sell the same products and would retail it to their audience. There’s mad shit to do to grow ya brand, Gray. You’re too young to sit on ya talent, shawtie. You gotta chase the bag. You know how many people don’t even know what hustle they have in them? How many people waste away, working for the white man instead of making good of the natural intelligence we’ve been born with? You know we, black people, were the original people on Earth? Education should be fashioned to enable us to be self-sufficient as a people. You just need the tools, Gray.”
I nodded, considering his advice. So soon, I became overwhelmed by the prospect and collapsed dramatically on the bed.
Rut chuckled. “The hell’s that about?”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about what’s that next level for me. I earn a few dollars from it but mostly enjoy the process of creating. I’m inspired by setting and enhancing moods through scent and texture of the skin; have been since I started toying around with it in college when I thought I’d flunk out. But I’ve been stuck on the business end of it since.”
Rut stood, holding his towel that covered a valued possession by me. “I’mma see what I can dig up for you. We gone get you off the ground, Gray.” He moved for the door, murmuring, “I’m gonna see what Fats want then put in the order.”
Needing to pee, I moved to leave the bed. But I wasn’t left unmoved. Rut’s words of entrepreneurship rang like belief…in me. That was something I hadn’t had in almost forever. It almost made me forget about his four eyes.
~Seventeen
He picked up after the third ring.
“Peace. Peace.”
“What it do, king?”
“Getting this paper, man. How you?”
“Everything’s everything.”
“Indeed. Congrats are in order, I see,” Divine’s voice seemed to perk up.
“Yup. Tried to hit you a few weeks ago. Heard you skipped town.”
“More like was put in timeout by my bone.”
“Oh, word? Ray-Choppa snatched you up like that?” I laughed.
“Aye!” he growled. “Easy. The hell you know about that alias anyway?”
