The Rhyme of Love (Love in Rhythm & Blues Book 2)

by Love Belvin

  “Man, I ‘on’t know about no email,” Raj returned. “If I missed it, my bad. I been dealing with some shi—things!” he added with a mocking tone.

  “Beyond that, if you gotta beef with me, as ya mans, you come to me!” Lord continued. “You mean you been actin’ like a bitch all fuckin’ day over some busta type shit this nigga that don’t mean shit to me did? Over some child’s play? That’s fucked up, Raj!”

  I stepped back into Raj with pressure. No fucking way did I want these two fighting. They were friends, and Young was right. The way Raj had handled him all day was wrong if this was why. I had no clue. I felt like shit. All of this because of me. No matter how many times I said it, who really believed I didn’t sleep with Teke? I mean… Really?

  And what was up with Raj telling Teke not to bring that here? Bring what? Something didn’t feel right.

  I turned to Raj, whispering again, “Let’s go. We’re making a spectacle.”

  “What?” Teke shouted angrily out of nowhere. “Over this nigga? Man, fuck him!” He spat at the floor. LaChateau’s fucking floor! “He ain’t god. That bitch ass nigga ain’t nothing to me! Fuck him. He ain’t even on the label!”

  I didn’t know what was said to him. All I saw was Jackson and now Lord in his face.

  “Fuck outta here!” Lord shouted at him, pointing toward the elevator.

  Then security appeared, and Jackson stood back with his arms crossed, looking stately, and reminding me of the occasion.

  Security surrounded him, closing my vision of Teke. There was scuffling and grunts.

  This shit is wild!

  “Fuck you! Fuck him!” Teke bellowed. “Oh, you ‘on’t know me, Raj? Bitch ass! You ‘on’t know me? Bet you remember my mother, bitch! ‘Memba fuckin’ her in the damn garage? Huhn?” He shouted as he was carried to the elevator and the call button was pushed by one of the beefy security. “You remember getting caught bustin’ her down by my brother, who ‘posed to be ya friend? You think ‘cause it was fifteen years ago, everybody ‘posed to forget? Fuck that! I’m suing ya ass for sneaking me in L.A., nigga! I’ll take ya G550 and ya bitch, nigga!”

  Teke shouted all the way into the elevator, even after it closed. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. Couldn’t believe that was the Teke who seemed level headed and prideful on the West Coast. I didn’t feel myself turning to face him. My hands covered my face, though. Sheer fucking shock! But I schooled myself. We were in public, and the moment I saw the pain and shame in Raj’s eyes, I knew I had to act.

  I grabbed his hand and pulled him to me. Then I glanced around for Trent or his wife…or Kennedi. Trent was right by Raj’s side with his arm on his shoulder.

  “You mind grabbing his jacket from in there and taking it home and we’ll get it from you?” My pulse was on my damn tongue and I swallowed mechanically before I could complete the sentence. I hadn’t been this nervous and embarrassed in years. But Trent understood and nodded with sympathetic eyes. “Thank you.”

  I tugged at Raj’s heavy arm and led him over to the staircase, not wanting to wait on the elevator. I needed to get out of here. No one spoke to us as we made our way there, graciously allowing us space. Before we descended the curling staircase, I reached around Raj’s waist for his pocket and pulled out his phone to text the driver we were on our way out. Raj didn’t speak, didn’t object. He just hung his head and trudged down the gazillion steps with me in silence. His pain emanating from his big body like heat. It took us a while to arrive, but by the time we hit the ground floor, the driver texted back he was outside. I quietly sighed in relief. I was sure paparazzi was around. This event was just as star studded as the damn Soul Train awards.

  We dipped out against clicking cameras and jumped into the truck as the driver held the door for us. The ride to Jersey City was brief, only separated from the City by water. But I’ll be damned when Raj opened my door to let me out at the apartment building, the first tear fell. When the second did, I knew I was done. I covered my face with my little clutch, rushed through the lobby and onto the elevator. Raj spoke to the concierge and elevator attendant as I tried to control my sobs. He held me to his chest inside the elevator, rubbing my back.

  All I could envision was the oversized kid, being seduced by another mature aged woman. Teke said this was fifteen years ago. Raj was twenty-three, brain still not yet fully developed, and I imagined still very much in pain and confused about his sexuality. Pair that with the raging hormones of a young man his age. All Teke mentioned was his mother smoking weed with his brother’s friends. That bitch was fucking at least one of them, too. My heart bled for him. What was his sex life like before me? Had he ever been in a healthy sexual relationship before?

  With my chest against his, I could feel the hollowness of him. The brokenness. Why did I feel an innate pull to it? I didn’t understand my anomalous desire to heal it. Or was there something in me naturally receptive to brokenness, to troubled spirits?

  The elevator door opened to the spacious two-toned foyer accented with gold trim. It was dim inside, encouraging my thoughts and fears. Ragee held the door with his hand. His eyes on me were inconsistent. He was ashamed, and respectfully cautious. I now knew the reason for the Apa piercing. Teke’s brother was the friend he’d betrayed. That was what made Raj go out and puncture possibly the most sensitive part of his body. That was why he wanted to punish himself. To ugly himself in the area he felt most ashamed of. But I didn’t see ugly when I looked upon him.

  What I saw was the man Young Lord claimed was hot and cold. The man whose powerful pastor and celebrity football playing friend cheered on, wanting him to feel appreciated. The one who others thought of as peculiar, weird, and even gay. Once again, he was letting me go so he could return to his reclusive ways. Fight his demons alone. His friends didn’t have a choice when Raj withdrew. I understood this now.

  “Sorry about this,” he mumbled so lowly, I hardly heard him. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “My bad for everything.”

  I knew I’d regret this. Maybe not tonight while he was drilling between my thighs, maybe not in the morning when I decided to brush my teeth before touching his lean body, or maybe in a year when he turned moody, yet another time and that time was my limit. But I didn’t care. I felt an unnamed pull to this man. I felt so at home with him—more than I had with my family. I felt…my purpose. For the first time in my life, I saw my fulfillment in human form.

  Ragee McKinnon.

  When he began to retreat into the elevator, I grabbed his wrist. His eyes finally landed on me, surprised by my touch.

  “You don’t deserve”—I hiccupped from a burgeoning sob—“me.”

  Raj’s regretful auburns danced with mine before he shook his head softly. “Maybe I never will.” His tongue swiped his lip and he swallowed, brows furrowed. “But I plan on trying until I die.”

  I nudged him at first then yanked him off the elevator. Raj lost his balance and I caught all six-two of him as I reached up and snaked my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling his head down and face to mine. Without too much hesitation, he opened his mouth and received my oral yet non-verbal acceptance of his broken nature.

  A hot wetness stirred my sleep. It was soft. Silky on my dick. Then my stomach lurched and I was awake. My eyes opened, and the sun was barely up. But my cock was up and raging. I glanced down and saw the top of her head. When I squinted, I could see her tongue darting occasionally. My head slammed back down on the pillow. Wynter giving me head was every bit of a fantasy to me. I didn’t feel worthy.

  When her soft, little hands joined in, my whole body heated. I swallowed even though my mouth was dry. How did I deserve this? What had I done to have this happen to me? Her happen to me.

  Last night, she pulled me back here to her old room and shed both our clothes then walked me into the bathroom. As she started the shower, she told me to tell her about that morning I sent her to Arizona alone. As cowardly as it sounds, if we weren’t naked when she pushed fo
r it, I wouldn’t have told her. This fear I carried of Wynter leaving me for good was stifling. But I told her. As she washed me from head to toe, I told her everything, starting with that night, years ago when Pat came by Checkerboard to blackmail me. As she washed herself, I told her about the guilt I’d carried for not jumping out of the truck and telling her she was being given bad dope. I even shared how I not only paid for her funeral, I sang at it. Got lost in a hymn as Pat’s cold body lay lifeless in a box where her flesh would remain until God had His way.

  She held me afterward, sharing body heat under a stream of hot water cascading over my naked truth. Then she dried me like a kid, dried herself and walked me out to her bed. After getting in, she wrapped herself around me like a vine and asked me more. I ended up sharing with her my fears from abuse. How for years after, as an adult, I didn’t have sex. I masturbated a lot and when that didn’t satisfy me, chaos did. I fought a lot, participated in robberies, intimidated people to feel good about myself. I shared how there was a period I thought I was gay. I considered it. The only problem was I had no attraction to men. Zero. That period didn’t last long because it made no sense that I’d only be mentally gay and not physically.

  She held me, not saying much at all. What was crazy was how I talked so much, opened so much, we ended up crying. Together. Wynter cried into my chest and I let a few wet ones slip over her head. It wasn’t something I’d ever done before, but it felt right. With her I felt so safe. That was the last memory I had of last night. At some point I crashed, physically and emotionally drained.

  And now she was blowing me, and so well. The bad thing about the Apa was deep throating was almost impossible because of the hard barbells. But Wynter took me in as much as she could and upped her fisting game, making the bottom of my feet heat. So I wouldn’t bust, all I could think about was returning the favor. I wanted to eat her pussy. To buy her diamonds for her ankles. Tell her thirty-three was my stage age and I was two years from forty—or had I told her that? It was easy talking to Wynter if I could put aside my fears and open to her.

  Just when I thought I was going to have to shoot up her mouth, she lifted, pulling off the head of my cock with a pop. Her lips were swollen and her eyes dark as she stared at me. She crawled up my body slowly, revealing her bare tits, bouncing along the way. I wanted to toss her onto her back, bang her out, using all my might to show her how bad I wanted her in my life. But in this short period, I knew Wynter well enough to let her lead when she pounced on me.

  Her parted lips got closer and closer. Then I felt her hand on my dick as she reached behind herself to align us. I wanted to moan, smelling her all over me. Feeling her heat again was a miracle. A privilege. Before I could even tell her, she slipped her tongue in my mouth. An angry moan pushed from my belly and released through my nostrils. Her mouth was hot, wet, and slightly stale mixed with the musk of me. I missed this. Her aggression, my need. Her greed and my obsession. Her tongue swirled and only slowed when she sank down on me, trembling along the way. Her mouth went lax against mine, but I was super charged and pushed my tongue into her mouth. I held her at the back of her head and kissed her like my life depended on it.

  When she started to bounce over me, Wynter moaned so deliciously. It made me crazy. I pushed my dick up, slowly at first, making sure she took in all of me. Her body misted and shoulders shook as she strained to swallow me whole.

  “I wanna make you mine. For real this time,” I growled, mouth so close to hers, her breath cooled my face.

  Wynter’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she rolled her hips over me. She dipped and lifted, squeezed and pushed. I grabbed her tits, massaging them then twisting the peaks. She moaned again, sitting straight and strengthening her thrusts. I sat up with her, bringing her left tit to my mouth and sucking on it. Her hands at the back of my head felt divine. Those moans that were driving me crazy came more often and grew louder.

  “Oh, baby…” she cried.

  She called me baby. That common title made me feel affirmed and loved. It made me want to suck harder and meet her pussy smashing onto my cock. And I did, resting on one arm behind me. I drove into her, trailed my tongue from her tit to her neck, around to her right nipple and sucked there, too.

  “Shit…” she breathed, squeezing her arms around my shoulders to keep me close.

  Then her ass began to shake over me, her pussy started to buck, and her head tossed back. Wynter breathed through her orgasm as she held on to me. As I pelted into her, I watched her every expression as she came. When her head came up, her eyes were lazy as she tried to look at me.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I whispered while she still moved over me.

  “Shhhhhh…” she shushed me. “I’m here.” Her lips brushed over mine.

  “For how long?” I hated the desperation in my voice.

  “Forever, if you’ll have me.”

  Did she—

  I couldn’t trust my ears as she danced over me.

  “C’mere.” I pulled her by the back of her head and threw my tongue in her mouth.

  Wynter pulled her legs up, planting her feet next to my hips and danced over me. She threw her pussy into me even more in this position. She wanted me to lose it. It didn’t take much work on her behalf. With her whole body wet, slipping on and off of me, her tits bouncing softly against my chest, and the smell of her pussy so close to me, I lost it. My hips bucked as my balls went tight and I skee’d all in her box. And Wynter danced until I emptied into her, my body wrung out from withholding nothing.

  I fell back on the bed.

  “You okay?” I barely heard her over my heavy breathing.

  My heart pounded against my chest.

  When I opened my eyes to respond, I realized she was asking about my bed phobia. I smiled, guilt haunting me. But I knew it wasn’t the worst thing.

  “I’m with you. I’m good, Wynter.” My eyes were closed as I tried catching my breath.

  She lay over my chest with my deflating dick still throbbing inside her.

  “You’re not in your bed, so I suppose you are. But this is your apartment.” I heard her reasoning, but didn’t see the need to answer until she asked, “What was this room before I moved in anyway?”

  “My prayer room.”

  I heard her gasp. “Really?”

  I nodded, still breathing deeply. “I kept junk in here but carved out a spot to pray alone.”

  “And the bathroom in here?”

  I shrugged. “I may have used it once.”

  Wynter laughed as she lifted her chest from mine and wiggled what was left of my erection out of her. She jumped off the bed from what I could hear, then I felt a cloth near my leg. I cracked open one lid. She was handing me my tank tee from last night to clean myself.

  “I’m going to shower then I’ll make you something to eat,” she shared while walking and holding her breasts. “Jashon texted you first thing this morning. I replied for you.”

  My face went tight as I processed that. “And said what?”

  “Something like, ‘give me a second. I’m about to fuck my wife. I’ll hit you when I’m done.’ I think.” She giggled and her booty jiggled all the way inside the bathroom.

  That had me cracking up first thing this morning, and after a draining night. After I wiped myself off, I looked for my phone. It was in the nightstand. I only had eight percent of my battery left and a bunch of notifications to say Wynter had opened my phone already. I could hear the toilet flush in the bathroom then the shower started as I began replying to my texts. I started with Heather’s about Pastor’s Appreciation Day at my grandmother’s church. Of course, she wanted me to come. I rarely did. But I tossed it in the back of my mind to ask Wynter if she’d like to go.

  I couldn’t front. That was hard to get used to. Wynter was here. She said forever, but I couldn’t trust that. I had so much mess with me. So much junk I was trying to set right. Last night was evidence of what a process this would be. So many times last n
ight, I wanted to go against every promise I made to God about my conduct. I spent the three days, after picking Wynter up from boot camp, praying and fasting. I hid out, didn’t take any calls, and ate very little to kill my flesh. I needed to reconnect with my Savior. Things were spinning out of control and I felt it. The problem was I couldn’t regain the handles.

  “You will be dealt with but covered. You need to stop leaning unto your own understanding and thinking it’s up to you to clean up your mess. All you have to do is surrender all. Totally. Completely. And finally.”

  Grandmother McKinnon’s prophetic word was right. After Wynter spazzed out on me on the plane, I thought I lost the one true gift I’d been given in a long time. No way could I begin to fix this. I had to cleanse my spirit and reconnect to the vine. I had to surrender my need to control the situation and recommit to having faith that He’d supply all my needs. It would be a struggle, though. Wynter still didn’t know the contract was now void. Bogus. Mike Brown’s lawyer sent over all resolved paperwork regarding our business to my attorney, Chesney. That was a relief. One of my many major stressors since losing Mike was the contract getting in the wrong hands and being exploited. Jerry wasn’t beyond it.

  Wynter stepping out of the shower caught my attention. She was wrapping her hair up into a ponytail.

  “You need to call your friend, Young, and apologize for the way you treated him.” She slipped on short shorts as she spoke.

  My dick jerked at the sight of that.

  She was right. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was only right. I mentally put it on my morning to-do list as I scrolled through comments on an IG post.