One.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Packing up all your stuff and moving to a whole new place was a cheesy, overused way to signify a fresh start. But the thing about clichés is that they got that way because they were relatable, familiar, relevant to the situation. Say what you will about being the new girl in town, but it was common because it worked.
And I needed this to work like I needed my next breath.
Desperately.
Lucky for me, that next breath came, along with a breeze that swept the faint aroma of sidewalk barbecue, car exhaust, and something else – something sweeter – right across my face. I breathed in deep, trying to place it before some other distinguishing scent of the city overwhelmed my senses.
“Jules!”
A familiar voice pulled my attention, and I looked around, following the sound to the building behind me. My gaze traveled up, past the striped awning of the bike shop that lived on the first level, up to crimson, weather-worn bricks. There, on an ivy-covered wrought iron balcony, stood the highlight of spending a week driving cross-country alone, in a car that had definitely seen better days.
Anika.
“Took you long enough,” she fussed, contradicting the smile on her face.
It was easy to return her smile with one of my own as I finally stepped away from my car, closing the door. “Sorry cousin. I was trying not to rush it, you know? Taking time to enjoy the scenery, appreciate the open road…”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she laughed, gripping the edge of the railing as she leaned over it, practically bouncing on her feet. “Get your ass up here, let me show you our place.”
“I got here like two seconds ago, and you’re already bossing me around?”
Anika smirked. “Did you expect that to have changed?”
“Not really.”
“Good. Get up here!”
Shaking my head, I hit the lock button on the car, then glanced around the neighborhood again. So much had changed in the nine years that I’d been gone that it was barely recognizable, in a good way. What had been an area replete with abandoned buildings and sketchy figures, the kind of area Anika’s mom used to rush us through to get home, was now completely revitalized.
All it had taken was a few to decide on investing back into the community their ancestors had built as a refuge, instead of lining the pockets of others. It wasn’t long before that became the standard – became the priority for the people who grew up here. Their action spurred more action, and that action had been the cultivation of what Mahogany Heights was now. A Black neighborhood that was absolutely thriving.
I pulled open the exterior door of the bike shop, which led into a little foyer. From the entryway, I could open another door to get into the bike shop, but I already knew from Anika’s instructions over the phone that I needed to take the hallway around to the back of the tiny shop, which led to an apartment the shop owner used, or a stairway up to the second level, which was where I needed to go.
I took the stairs two at a time, excited about the prospect of hugging my cousin for the first time in years. I clutched my crossbody bag against my side to keep it from bouncing as I went, not letting it go until I burst through the door at the top of the steps.
I was barely on the other side before a warm body smacked into me, clutching me so tight my lungs could barely expand. The only thing I could do – the only thing I wanted to do – was squeeze Anika right back, choosing hugging over breathing for the moment. The embrace was clearly more important.
“I didn’t know how much I missed your face until just now,” she exhaled in my ear, the crack in her voice letting me know that she was already on the verge of tears.
“I missed you too,” I whispered back, deciding right then that I wouldn’t tease her emotional ass, even if she decided to let those tears flow freely. Not today. Not yet.
“Okay. Okay, I’m cool,” she said, suddenly releasing her grasp and stepping back to fan her face. “Come on. Let me show you the apartment.”
“Can we talk about this first?” I asked, reaching up to run my fingers through the soft, super short curls atop her head – lush coils that replaced the thick mass of ringlets that had been her signature feature for the longest. “When did this happen?”
She sighed. “Just a few days ago, actually. Needed a change.”
I waited until we were inside the apartment, and she’d closed the door to respond to that, with a raised eyebrow. “What was his name?”
“Why do you assume it was because of a guy?” she questioned, crossing her arms and pursing her lips, even though we both knew why, and that my supposition was correct.
“Educated guess. And, I know you didn’t cut it because of a guy, but I know one of these fools led you by the hand to whatever space you were in that made you decide to do it. Am I lying?”
“No.”
“Okay, so….” I waved my hands, circling them around each other in a gesture to get her talking. “What was his name?”
“Oliver.”
Immediately, my nose wrinkled, lips curled downward. “Oliver? Ew.”
“I know!”
Good.
Or, maybe not.
That “I know!” meant that she remembered Aunt Darcy’s lesson about not letting men with nerd-ass names dog you, when they should be honored that they – and their nerd-ass name – were even allowed in your presence. It also meant that she hadn’t heeded it.
“He must’ve been some kinda fine…” I said, moving in to nudge Anika’s shoulder with mine.
She pushed out a heavy sigh that managed to be dreamy, even though it was thick with regret. “Fine as frog hair, girl.”
“Yeah, that’s usually how they get you.” I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her into something of a sideways hug as I finally really looked at the apartment.
It was small – something to be expected in the city – but managed to still feel breezy and open, thanks to big windows and high ceilings. Built-in bookshelves lined the walls, cozy furniture grounded the space, and I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see that Anika had managed to make a small piano fit in the space.
“Let me show you your room,” Anika said, grabbing me by the hand to pull me towards a short hall. “Now, I already warned you that it was tiny, but I did my best to make it where you’d love it still, okay?”
I shrugged. “I don’t need much space, you know that. Just a place to sleep and a desk to work.”
“Well, you have at least that.” She gave me a nervous smile before she pushed open the door to a room that made my minimalist heart smile. It was tiny – the full-sized bed turned sideways, and pushed right up against the window was the entire width of the room. It was covered in soft bedding and enough pillows to use it as a seating area when I wasn’t asleep, and a small desk and chair sat against the opposite wall. A door right across the entryway opened into a surprisingly large closet, and above me, Anika had strung lights across the ceiling – a touch she knew I would love.
“It’s perfect, Nik.”
“You really think so? You can tell me the truth. I know it’s small, but mine is only like two feet wider, and—”
“I said it was perfect,” I assured her, stepping in to get a better feel for the space. “You call it tiny, I call it cozy. And look – I have plenty of space.”
Anika watched, then laughed, as I used the empty space in the middle of the room to do a cartwheel, nearly busting my ass when the rug slipped from under me on the hardwood floor. I straightened up, laughing too as I turned the chair in front of the desk around, and dropped into it.
“I’m really glad you’re here Jules,” Anika said, leaning against the doorframe. “Not gonna lie… I was kinda scared you wouldn’t show up.”
I scoffed. “Come on, I’m not flaky like that.”
“I know, you aren’t… usually. However. You told mama you were coming up for the service, but then…”
I shook my head, breaking away from her gaze to stare out the window, at the non-existent view on the other side of the sheer curtains. “Is that what we’re about to do, my first day here?”
“No,” Anika came immediately. “We’re not about to “do” anything, I’m just talking to you. That’s okay, right?”
“About literally any other topic? Sure? Talk my ear off… which I’m sure you planned to do anyway,” I teased, trying to lead us back to the lighter vibe from before.
Anika’s expression was unyielding, not immediately taking the bait. But after another few seconds, her shoulders relaxed, and she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m not the one who always got scolded for talking too much. That was you.”
“Not how I remember it cousin, but I’m gonna let you cook,” I laughed. “We’ll have plenty of time to be motor-mouths together now. Starting with you helping me unpack.”
Anika let out a snort of laughter. “Girl, bye. What do you have, one box of clothes, two boxes of cameras? We have way more stuff than that to talk about.”
I pushed myself up from the chair, heading toward the door. “Um, for your information, I have two suitcases full of clothes… and three boxes of camera equipment.”
“Jules!”
“Whaaat?” I shrugged. “You know where my heart is Nik, don’t front on me now.”
“Ain’t nobody fronting on you,” she laughed, leading the way back to the front door. “I’m just hoping you’ve got something cute in one of those bags, because I’m taking you to the coffee shop tonight.”
“I don’t drink coffee, you know that.”
Anika tossed a grin over her shoulder as she pulled the door open, and started for the stairs. “Oh, you just wait. You’ll see.”
“See what?” I asked, following her.
“The coffee shop,” she said, turning to me as we reached the first level. “Don’t let the name fool you. It is so much more than that.”
“Of course you think so, don’t you work there? Or are you talking about a different one?”
She gave me a disbelieving scowl as she opened the door to get outside, heading straight for the coral-painted Jeep I’d rolled up in. “Once you’ve been to Urban Grind, you’ll understand why around here, it’s the only coffee shop anybody is talking about.”
“Spoken like a head barista,” I teased, handing her a suitcase from the back.
“Just you wait, okay?” Anika grinned, hooking a box under her arm to take upstairs with the suitcase, and still managing to hold the door for me as well. It really did only take a few trips to get my few possessions moved into the apartment, and then Anika came with me to move the car to one of the designated spaces for our building, in a parking deck a block over.
On the short walk back, I discovered the source of the sweet aroma that had welcomed me to the neighborhood. A tiny bakery, with f.w.b. etched into the window was a few doors down from the bike shop.
frosted. whipped. buttered.
“This is cute,” I commented to Anika as I stopped to peer through the window, only to have her grab me by the wrist, tugging me away.
“Yeah, it is, and so is the guy who owns it.”
I planted my feet in my yellow converse, stopping her from pulling me any further. “Hold up. You got history with him or something?”
“What? No. He’s barely ever there.”
“So why are you so eager to pull me away? Those honey buns looked good!”
She nodded. “Yeah, and that is why I’m pulling you away. I’m pretty sure they put crack in their icing – I was eating one every day for breakfast, and had full-fledged withdrawal symptoms when I stopped cold turkey because of what those honeybuns were doing to my thighs. Trust me – that’s not a habit you want to start.”
“Damn, it’s like that?”
“Definitely.”
“Well girl, let me keep it moving then,” I laughed. I had plenty of time to introduce myself to all the local businesses, but for now I was more interested in getting back to the apartment to unpack and get settled in.
It didn’t take much, honestly. Anika’s joke about me having more camera equipment than clothing was deeply rooted in the truth. I’d sold every piece of furniture from my apartment in Emeryville, packing nothing except my wardrobe and shooting equipment for this move. That money had paid for gas and a new set of tires, and everything else went straight into my little bank account – the same account I was draining for this venture.
When Anika’s parents – my Aunt Darcy and Uncle Will – had begged me to move back, to be closer to my family, they’d offered a lifeline.
Their checkbook.
While I appreciated their generosity, one of my biggest goals for this move was making my business happen on my own. Well… mostly on my own. Any offers to clean, help paint, or otherwise set up the space I’d leased without ever stepping foot in it myself would be gladly accepted.
“This is really like… a perfect night,” Anika gushed a few hours later as we stepped out the door of B.Spoked, waving at Brittany, the owner, as we passed. Anika’s big silver hoops flashed bright, reflecting the streetlights as she tipped her head back like she was letting the warm, breezy Spring air settle over her face.
I didn’t say anything, but I agreed. I wasn’t sure if it was the weather, the neighborhood, or both, working in concert to create a vibe that only lifted my already great mood. Anika grabbed me by the hand to lead me down the pavement, dodging a giggling pack of teenage girls, people walking dogs, a flower vendor packing up her sidewalk display for the night. Across the street, there was a guy selling hats and watches, and all I could do was smile and wave when he called out, asking me to check out his merchandise, because Anika was on a mission.
As we approached the big coffeehouse on the corner, I understood why.
“Why is this place popping like a club?” I asked in Anika’s ear as she led me right to the front of the line of people waiting to get inside. Even on the sidewalk, people were grooving to the heavy bassline and guitar of the music carrying from the building, so vibrant that I could practically feel it on my skin.
“Because it basically is,” she told me before she turned, flashing a smile at the security guard at that door before he stepped aside, letting us in. The lights were low, and the crowd was thick, but Anika moved with authority, pulling me past all of that to end up back outside, in a different area this time.
I grinned as she urged me into a chair on the patio, at a table that was already half full.
“Jada, Andrea, Whitney, this my cousin Juliet,” Anika said, finally introducing me to the homegirls I’d heard about over the years.
“Jules is fine too,” I told them, returning the warm greetings they gave me before a server came past, asking about drinks. After we’d put an order in place, I nudged Anika in the side before I leaned to speak into her ear.
“You didn’t tell me it was like this,” I said, and she shook her head.
“I definitely did. You just didn’t believe me,” Anika laughed. “Tonight is kinda crazy though. Songbird Dani is singing, so everybody and their mama is out.”
My eyes went wide. “Are you kidding? A coffee shop, with the kind of juice to get friggin’ Dani, on a Thursday night?”
“I told you. Urban Grind isn’t any regular ass coffee house.”
She wasn’t lying. She had. But I guess I needed to see it to believe it, and sure enough, the crowd that had gathered went wild when Dani stepped on stage, accompanied by her heartthrob keyboardist, Logan. From our seats out on the patio, we could only see her back, but we could hear that pure, soulful voice perfectly, and there was a live feed on the TV monitors that anchored along the pergola-style walls.
In next to no time, Dani and Logan had the whole building enraptured, singing along to her sexy, playful, heart-wrenching, angry, reverential lyrics and buttery vocals. The girl had a little of everything, and I knew damn near all of it, and wasn’t afraid or ashamed to belt those words at the top of my lungs, with everybody else. By the time her set was over, I was hoarse, but I was more than okay with being the victim of a great time.
Once she left, a lot of the patrons did too, but there was still a good sized crowd. Our little group took our party to a table inside, since the night temperature was dropping. After a while, we lost Jada and Andrea to work responsibilities the next day, and then Whitney got scooped up by her boyfriend, leaving just me and Anika at the table.
“I gotta visit the ladies’ room,” she told me, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” I jumped up, intending to follow. “You’re leaving me by myself?”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Yeah, to go pee.”
“Or, I can go with you…”
“Then who would watch our table?” Anika asked, carefully pronouncing the words, like I was slow. And hell, maybe I was, because I hadn’t even considered that.
“Right,” I nodded. “I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll be right back,” she assured me again, and of course, she wasn’t. After I’d chair danced my way through two songs, turning down more than one offer to dance, I stood up, looking in the direction she went to see if maybe she was stuck in a line for the bathroom.
She was stuck alright.
Stuck in the face of some dude who just looked like his name was Oliver.
I waved in her direction, getting her attention before I pointed toward the bar. She nodded, essentially giving me permission to relinquish the table that we really didn’t need any more anyway, then went to the bar for my standard I’ve already had enough liquor drink, pineapple juice with seltzer and a splash of lime.
I was just raising the glass to my lips when I felt eyes on me, damn near staring a hole in the side of my face. Shyness wasn’t really my “thing”, so I felt very little shame in turning right in the direction the stare was coming from to identify the culprit.
I wasn’t expecting to lock eyes with a living, breathing bar of chocolate.
I know.
There was another of those clichés, but the comparison was more than appropriate. He was deep dark chocolate, with a nice lush beard, and glossy black locs pulled into a pile on top of his head. He was dressed simply – fresh white tee, fresh white sneaks, jeans. He didn’t crack a smile, but he tilted his head up, acknowledging me before his attention went first to the drink in his hand, and then to the performer who’d taken the stage for open mic.
Interesting.
While his attention was elsewhere, I took the opportunity to just observe. He was seated, somewhat near the stage, sitting by himself on an armless couch. After placing his drink on the table, he stretched his arms wide, completely relaxed as his tee shirt pulled across his chest and arms.
Not wanting to get caught staring, I found something else to look at too, but a moment later, I felt his eyes on me again. I let it ride for a few seconds, but then I turned to face him, only for him to look away.
Again.
I took a sip from my drink, and then started in his direction, not caring if he saw me coming. When his eyes came back to me, they widened a little, like he was surprised to find me much closer than before, but I was right in front of him before he had much time to react.
“You know,” I started, taking a seat in the empty space beside him on the couch. “It’s not really polite to stare. If you like what you see, you could just… talk to me.”
His lips parted a little before he let out a quiet chuckle and un-stretched his arms. “Uh… wow,” he said, before swiping a hand over his mouth.
“Wow, what?” I asked, turning my legs in his direction. “What are you “wow”-ing about?”
He sat up, looking at me like he could barely believe I’d sat down. “Well… the fact that you thought I was looking at you because I wanted to holla.”
“I thought?” I lifted an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you weren’t?”
“No, I wasn’t,” he told me, in a rich, deep tone that I could appreciate now that the stage was clear, and the volume in the coffee house had gone down.
I pursed my lips, twisting them to the side in disbelief as I waited for him to drop the façade. “Oh come on,” I said, when he said nothing else, still giving me that same baffled look. “Why the hell else would I have caught you staring, twice?”
The confusion on his face morphed into an awkward sort of smirk as he leaned in a bit, voice lowered like he was giving me confidential information. “Your cut, mama,” he said, gesturing with two fingers toward my hair. “My bad for staring, but the precision of your cut – three equal sections, detailed line work, a nice gradient effect to your fade… it’s impressive. Dope as hell. That’s… what I was looking at.”
Oh.
“Ohhhh,” I repeated out loud, raising my hand to brush my palm over the shaved side of my head before I ran my fingers through my thick curls. “It is pretty dope, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “It is. Who’re you rockin’ with?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your barber. Who is your barber?”
“Oh. Tiana. But she’s not from here. I stopped through and got a fresh cut when I passed through her city on my little road trip to get here. The girl has skills.”
“That she does,” he agreed. “Kudos to her.”
“Uh-huh, yeah,” I said, waving off that line of conversation. “Let’s talk about how you just tried to front like I’m not out here looking good as hell tonight.”
He’d been taking a sip from his drink, and nearly choked when I said that. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Mr. I Was Just Looking At Your Cut. You were not just looking at my haircut,” I laughed, putting my own drink down on the table. “You wanna know what I think? The hair may have gotten your attention, but this face is what had you staring.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as he sat back again, looking at me. “I’m not trying to front on you,” he insisted. “I really was studying your cut, that’s it.”
“So you don’t think I’m pretty?”
His eyes got big again. “What? Nah, you’re fine as hell.”
“I am, huh?” I said, fluffing my curls as I let my lips spread into a big smile that he couldn’t have resisted if he tried.
“Okay,” he nodded. “I see what’s happening here, you with the smile, and the hair, and the dimples, all of that.”
I smirked. “Do you really though? Cause I’m pretty sure I caught you all the way off guard just now. Or are you gonna front on me again?”
“I didn’t front on you a first time,” he countered, with the kind of smile that made it very easy to remain in a seat that very well could’ve belonged to another woman. Before I could find out, a server came past, asking if we wanted refills on our drinks.
He said yes, asking for another Hennessey and Coke, and because I was a sucker for a dark man drinking dark liquor, I said yes as well, opting for Sprite and vodka.
“So… am I in someone’s seat right now? In danger of getting swung on?” I asked, meeting deeply amused eyes that were the same color as deep roast in the light from the stage, but seemed glossy black when he turned to fully face me.
“Not really. My boys are off chasing ass, so I doubt they’ll mind.”
“Why aren’t you off doing the same?”
His response was delayed by the delivery of our drinks, and I offered no argument when he instructed the server to put them both on his tab. Once she left, I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his response.
“Well?” I prompted, when he still didn’t answer.
“Well what?”
“Why aren’t you off chasing ass like your boys?”
He shrugged, then took a sip of his fresh drink. “Don’t have to. It usually comes to me,” he suggested, giving me a pointed look that made me laugh.
“So you’re caught up now, huh?” I teased. “Welcome to this conversation.”
I raised my glass, and to my absolute delight he met me halfway, clinking his drink against mine.
“Happy to be here.”
“Are you really though?” I asked, then took a swallow of my drink. “Cause a few minutes ago, you tried to—”
“I wasn’t trying to front on you,” he interrupted, with a warm chuckle that gave me a tingly feeling akin to the soda bubbles exploding on my tongue as I drank again. “You gotta stop saying that shit.”
I raised a hand, spreading my fingers wide. “Hey, I’m just standing in my truth here… you should try it.”
“Damn, it’s like that?”
“Yup.”
He nodded, then raked his free hand through his beard. “Okay. The truth then.”
I leaned in, into his personal space, and he didn’t flinch, falter, or pull back, just kept with that cool, penetrating gaze. “Please,” I uttered, sounding it out slowly, as his regard fell to my lips.
“The hair is what got my attention,” he insisted, once our eyes were locked again.
“But…?”
A yielding sort of smirk spread across his lips as he conceded, “But… the pretty face is what kept it. I’ve never seen you before, so… I was curious.”
“Finally, he admits it!” I laughed, dropping my hand onto his knee and squeezing. “I love it when I’m right!”
“It’s all good,” he granted. “Live it up at my expense, I can take it.”
Still grinning, I told him, “So can I…” with a wink that made him suck in a little breath before he pulled his bottom lip between nice, even white teeth.
“You’re really not from around here are you?”
“Technically I am, actually. Grew up near here, moved away, and now I’m back.”
“That’s wassup. Where you coming from?”
“A cozy little town called none of your business,” I replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay… well then, what made you move here?”
“Proximity to family, and starting a business.”
“What kind of business?”
“Not yours,” I told him, then grinned at the flash of frustration that sparked across his face as I finished off my drink. Over his shoulder, I spotted Anika heading my way, with a sexy chocolate of her own in tow. “Give me a second,” I said, then stood up, walking to meet her halfway.
“Jules,” she started, wearing an expression that was distinctly… annoyed? “This is—”
“Oliver,” I finished for her, saying the name like it was gross to my tongue.
Both of them frowned. “What?” Anika asked. “No. No. This is Royal. He’s… shadowing me, I guess,” she explained, gesturing toward him. “You know I told you about my boss, Roman? Well, this is his cousin, and he’s trying to learn the business. I need to walk him through a few things, so I might be a little while. Do you want me to get a car or something for you, and just meet you back at home?”
I shook my head. “Uh… no. I can entertain myself, and then make my way home.”
“Are you sure?” she questioned, sounding concerned. “I am so sorry. It’s your first night here, we’re supposed to be kicking it. It’s supposed to be my night off, but I just got this promotion, and I don’t want to—”
“Nik,” I interrupted, grabbing her shoulders. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Do what you need to do for your job. I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay. And yes, I’m sure, do not ask me again.”
Anika blew out a sigh. “Okay. Okay. I just hate this,” she said, stepping in close so she could lower her voice. “I lowkey hate this dude, and cannot wait until he leaves to open his own shit.”
My eyebrows went up as my gaze shot to Royal, with his strong jaw and smooth skin and haircut and dimples he probably used for evil, giving the rest of us a bad name. “You screwed him, didn’t you?” I whispered back, only to be met with rolled eyes.
“No, I didn’t screw him! Even I can see that he’s a fuckboy. I know better. Why do you think I’ve screwed everybody?!”
I squinted a little, averting my eyes. “Well…”
“Oh kiss my ass Jules,” she hissed as her face dropped into a scowl. “We’ll have a conversation about that later. For now, I need to get this shit over with, so I’ll see you later boo. You be safe tonight,” she said, pulling me into a quick hug before she turned back to Royal. He grinned the grin of a man who knew a little too well just how fine he was, and her lip curled up, barely suppressing a sneer before she gestured for him to follow her.
I watched his eyes go straight to her ass as she walked off, shamelessly ogling as he trailed her. Laughing, I turned back to my chosen “entertainment” for the night, pleased to find that he was, again, openly staring.
I took my time walking back to him, knowing exactly how good I looked in my high-split, floral maxi situation. I wanted him to absorb every second of it, and from the look he was giving me by the time I stopped in front of him, stepping between his open legs, he’d enjoyed the view just as much as I enjoyed giving it.
In the background, Ro James’ Permission came on, and I immediately started moving my hips, snapping my fingers to the beat. He sat back a little more, spreading his arms across the back of the couch to relax as he watched, but I shook my head, brought my hand in front of me to hook a finger at him, beckoning him to his feet.
He was game, apparently. Not one of those “I don’t dance” kinda guys that were so woefully prevalent these days, or one who intended to just stand there, stiff as a board while I twerked on him. As soon as he was on his feet, his hands were at my waist, his touch confident as he eased me over to the dance floor.
“I’m guessing you’ve done this a time or two?” I asked as he effortlessly moved with me, undaunted by my arm draped around his neck, the other swinging freely as I rocked my hips into his.
His smirk was cocky, confidently sexy as he nodded, pulling me closer as the hook started. “Nah. First time.”
I kept a smile on my face after I laughed, and then closed my eyes, settling comfortably into his touch, breathing in the rugged cleanness of his scent. I fought the urge to press my face into his neck and inhale, focusing on the skin-to-skin contact instead. His hands were pleasantly warm against my bare back, taking full advantage of the way my dress dipped in the back, giving him free access to skin.
I swallowed a moan as his thumbs skimmed my waist, and tried to keep my rhythm. But it was hard when he was hard, and the very clear evidence of his arousal was pressed against my stomach. The music shifted, to Twenty88’s Push It, and I took that as my chance to get a little reprieve, turning so that my back was to him.
Not a wise decision.
Because as soon as his arms were back around me, one hand pressed to my stomach, the other at my waist as I grooved to the music, I started wondering just how far he was willing to take this tonight. Once I got myself settled, I planned to focus as solely on my business as I could, no distractions. But until then… what could it really hurt to have a little fun beyond flirting, to be a little… carefree?
It was my first night in town.
A fling was practically required.
Just as I was wondering how to approach the topic, I felt his lips on my neck. Just a delicate brush at first, that could’ve maybe been an accident, but then they were there again, firm and soft and perfect. And then again. And then, a little flick of his tongue, followed by a little more, and then a barely-there sinking of his teeth, and then I was turning to look him in the eyes.
“Come home with me,” he said, before I could even open my mouth.
When I did open my mouth, at first there was no sound. Being “lost for words” was an occurrence outside of my experience, usually, but at that moment, all I could do was nod – which wasn’t good enough, based on the raised eyebrow he hit me with. “Yes,” I told him, finding my voice to answer once it was clear my non-verbal response wasn’t enough.
After that, there was no wasted time, no wasted words, just his hand around mine as he pulled me out of the coffeehouse, back into the warm, clear Spring night. Even with the usual noises of the city, compared to the inside of Urban Grind, the street was quiet, and neither of us was talking.
The silence was loud.
“You know this doesn’t have to be awkward, right?” I asked him, tugging at his hand as he led me down the street. “I’m still cute under these bright lights, you’re still tall and fine,” I said, making him grin. “You don’t have to get all quiet on me.”
“Nah, it’s not like that. Just… sorting through my thoughts, you know?”
I cringed. “Yeah, I actually do. What, are you thinking you were too hasty in asking me to come home with you? Wondering if you made a mistake?”
He stopped walking and turned to face me, with my hand still clasped in his as his thumb strummed gently back and forth over my knuckles. In the streetlight, his eyes were intense brown-black marbles that would’ve frozen me to the spot if his touch hadn’t.
“No,” he answered, seemingly mystified by it. “I’m not wondering that at all. And the fact that I’m not wondering is what has me thinking so damn hard.”
I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip, not caring that I was taking my carefully applied lip gloss with it. “So… are we doing this or not?”
He dropped his hold on my hand, which I first thought was his answer. But then, he grabbed my face instead, cupping my chin in his hand as he tilted my head back, making my eyes go wide. His free hand pressed against the small of my back, pulling my body into his as he dropped his head, and kissed me.
Right there on the sidewalk.
Immediately, my eyes closed and I parted my lips, giving in to the insistence press of his tongue at their seam. Honking cars, passing laughter, sirens, everything blurred together into indistinguishable noise as he consumed me with a smoky-sweet, Hennessey and Coke flavored kiss that had my toes curling under the straps of my wedges.
My hands twisted around fistfuls of that crisp white tee as his tongue lapped against mine and then diverted, exploring my mouth. He pulled back, teasingly nibbling at my lips, first the top and then bottom before he dove in again, kissing me in a way that made it impossible to take a full breath, just shallow tastes of air that contributed to my intoxication.
And he was the controlled substance of choice.
“Yes,” he said in a low voice, finally answering my question once he pulled back. “We’re doing this.” As if to emphasize his point, he grabbed my hand again, leading me up the steps of the building we’d stopped in front of. I opened my mouth to protest, only to snap it shut again when he pressed a random-to-me number sequence into the aging keypad beside the door, and the sound of a disengaged lock hit my ears.
Inside, he led me straight to the elevators, giving me a look that made me grateful an empty one opened as soon as he pressed the call button. My heart was racing, thumping against my chest, roaring in my ears as he backed me into it, straight into the corner, where he kissed me again.
This time, one hand went into my hair, his fingers grazing my scalp as he buried them in a loose, possessive grip on my curls. His other hand went lower, slipping down the curve of my waist before settling lower, palming a handful of my ass to pull me closer. I moaned into his mouth as he pressed me harder into the wall, dipping his head to deepen the kiss as the elevator creaked toward whatever floor he’d chosen.
I couldn’t help the disappointed sound I made in my throat when he pulled away, once the elevator chimed to signal that we’d arrived. He practically snatched me out, rushing me down the hall so fast that the elevator doors were still sliding closed when he pulled keys from his back pocket, letting us inside his apartment.
That was where I broke away from him, more interested than I should be in what his place looked like. It was an open loft, with worn hardwood floors and exposed beam work in the ceiling – obviously a feature of a remodel, since this was an older building. Still, there was obvious charm. Exposed brick, carved woodworking around the windows. And it was obvious from the décor choices – dark leather furniture with modern lines, Black artwork on the walls, comfortable rugs – that this guy cared about the balance of the old and new.
Just… not right now.
Right now, he seemed exponentially more interested in backing me against a wide pillar that anchored the middle of the loft, and using the high split I’d loved so much as an access point to get underneath my dress. He met my gaze as his fingers hooked the sides of my panties, and dragged them down.
“Straight to the point, huh?” I asked, holding his gaze as he kneeled to pull my panties down the lower part of my legs, then waited for me to step out.
“That a problem for you?” he queried back, tossing them over his shoulder once he’d straightened up again.
A smirk spread across my lips as I reached up, untying the halter-style bow around my neck. As soon as it was loose, I dropped the ties, letting my dress fall with it, leaving me totally nude as it pooled around my feet in a mashup of color.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not at all.”
“Damn,” he muttered, in an appreciative tone that widened my grin.
“I know.” His eyebrows went up as I grabbed his belt buckle, pulling hard to tug him closer. “Now… your turn.”
He hooked his fingers together behind his head, watching my hands as I undid his belt, then his buttons and zipper before I pushed his jeans down. The impressive bulge sprouting beneath his boxers was calling my name, but since I was a believer in big reveals, I ignored it, reaching for the hem of his shirt instead, after he’d stepped out of his shoes and jeans.
He took over the removal of his shirt, treating me to an up-close and personal view of the smooth, espresso-toned skin that covered his chest. His body was nice – thick enough to have something to hold on to, but nicely cut, with all the grooves and ridges. What I really cared about though, was underneath his boxers, and I was ready to see it.
Before I could go for what I wanted though, he’d scooped me into his arms, easily hefting me over his shoulder.
My shocked gasp quickly turned into a shout of laughter as he carried me to a part of the loft that had been partitioned off – a part I quickly realized was his bedroom. He tossed me onto the bed, making me laugh again as he flipped on the lamp on the bedside table to dig in the drawer, coming up with a condom that he tossed at me to catch.
I did, then watched, enthralled, as he rid himself of his boxers, allowing his dick to spring free – long, just as black as he was, and mouthwateringly thick.
Down girl, I told myself, knowing that I couldn’t do what I wanted to do with a dick like that when it belonged to a stranger. But my face must have given me away, because his barely-suppressed smirk was cocky as hell as he stepped up to the edge of the bed.
I was right there to meet him, having raised up on my knees, moving closer to where he was. I tore the wrapper open and tossed it away, looking him right in the eyes as I rolled the latex onto him, then kept him in my hands, stroking him.
“This is perfect. You know that, right?” I asked him, unabashedly feeding his ego, even though he hadn’t really proven himself yet.
He planted one of his big hands on either of my ass cheeks, cupping and squeezing. “You know I wanna – nah, am gonna, fuck the shit outta you, right?”
I tightened my grip on his dick, making him groan a little as his hips rocked reflexively forward. “You know I’d rather you be about it than talk about it, right?”
His eyes narrowed, bringing back that intensity that sent a shiver up my spine, and he said one word before he was on me.
“Bet.”
Instead of pushing me backward, like I would have expected, he used his grip on my ass to easily scoop me up, catching me so off guard that I let him go. He had my legs around his waist before I even knew what was happening, and then lined himself up with my opening and pulled me onto him in one swift, firm motion that yanked a cry from my throat as I helplessly clutched at his shoulders.
Then we dropped to the bed, with me landing on my back against the plush material of his comforter as he put the full weight of his body into a stroke that filled me past capacity.
“Oh my God,” I cried, digging my nails into his back as he circled his hips, pressing all the way into a spot that had my legs feeling like jello already. I didn’t breathe until he finally pulled back, but he snatched my breath again with the next stroke. And the next, and the next, and the next, until I was breathing like the women in Lamaze classes on TV as he did exactly what he claimed he would.
He grabbed my ankles, holding my legs in the air as he pounded into me, and I screamed my head off. Every cry, moan, whimper, every single shout I felt, I let it out, because that’s what you did with a one-night stand, you didn’t hold back. And apparently he felt the same, because he was giving me every possible inch of him, driving into me with exactly the kind of focus and vigor my last sexual encounters had desperately lacked.
I needed this.
Especially the explosive orgasm that rocked me just a few moments later, in what felt like record time, especially considering that the only foreplay had occurred before we were even in his apartment. Still, as I collapsed onto his bed after he’d shuddered his way through his own eruption, I didn’t feel like he owed me a single thing. I closed my eyes, reveling in the moment of feeling amazingly boneless, appreciating the fact that he wasn’t trying to talk to me, or cuddle.
I felt, rather than saw him leave the bed, and didn’t open my eyes until I could no longer hear his footsteps padding away as he presumably went to take care of the condom. Biting down on my lip, I shook my head. I was so satisfied with myself that it was ridiculous, but experience had taught me the importance of quitting while I was ahead. It was time for me to go.
… if only my legs would work.
Unfortunately for me, those deep strokes had rendered them temporarily useless, and it wasn’t until he’d come back and spread himself out beside me that I could really feel them again. When I could, I pulled myself up and climbed out of bed, stopping for a moment to stretch my limbs.
“The bathroom is right beside the kitchen,” he told me, sitting up.
I nodded. “Thanks. I’m gonna clean up a bit, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
For some reason, that seemed to surprise him, enough that he sprang up as I took a few steps, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me between his legs as he moved back to a seated position on the bed.
“You serious?” he asked, licking his lips. “Not up for a second round?”
I grinned, running my fingers through the locs that had come disengaged from the band that was keeping the rest back. “I didn’t know you’d have a second round in you.”
“Well… now you do.” He released his hold on my arm to move his hands up my sides, his touch featherlight until he reached my breasts. There, he cupped his hands underneath, in a gentle caress as his thumbs skirted over my nipples.
I sucked in a breath as he moved his thumb, covering me with his hot mouth instead, rasping his tongue over the hard peak. My hands went deeper into his hair, burying my fingers in his locs to keep his head in place as he sucked my sensitive flesh.
“O-oh,” I breathed, damn near falling into him when I suddenly felt his hand between my legs, covering his fingers in my wetness before they plunged into me. A low moan pulled away from my throat as his thumb pressed against my clit, circling as he stroked me with his fingers. His free hand tweaked and pulled at the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, and just like that… I was definitely staying.
My gaze traveled down, watching his fingers disappear between my legs before I shifted to watch what he was doing with his mouth. He gave me another one of those smirks as he pulled back a little, looking me right in the eyes as he grazed me with his teeth, then licked the same spot to soothe the sting.
Oh, he was good. He was very, very good.
I closed my eyes, giving myself over to pleasure as he pushed all the right buttons for me. And when he pulled that drawer open again for another condom, I happily climbed aboard, intent on securing another win for the night by riding him like my life depended on it.
He had other plans.
As soon as I sank onto him, he grabbed my face, pulling me into a kiss. And then another, and another, and the next thing I knew, I was slow grinding into his lap like I had Quiet Storm music playing in my head.
“You feel so goddamn good,” he groaned in my ear, just before he did something that was half-bite, half-suck, and would definitely leave a mark on my neck.
“Holy shit, you too,” I whimpered, helpless, as he grabbed me by the hips, taking over with upward strokes that brought tears to my eyes as he plunged into me.
I can’t go out like this!
With more force than was probably necessary, I shoved him backward, planting my hands on his chest once he was mostly flat across the bed, with his legs still propped over the side. I pressed in, anchoring my knees against his sides before I started circling my hips, keeping that motion as I moved up and down on him.
“Fuck,” he hissed, closing his eyes as he locked his hands behind his head, after I batted him away from my breasts. His touch felt a little too good, and I needed to be focused, needed all my attention on this.
I sat up, shifting positions to use my feet as the necessary leverage for a little more bounce, enough to have him letting off another stream of curses he couldn’t help. My power move was a double-edged sword though, because next thing I knew, his hand was between my legs again, and it was… God, it was too much. The sweet friction of him being buried deep inside me, the teasing stimulation of fingers against my clit, and goddamn….
“Ahhhh!” I cried, letting out the burst of pleasure I felt as he sat up, catching a nipple in his mouth again, clamping tight enough to skirt the line between bliss, and pain. I wanted to push him away, wanted him to not feel so damned good, but neither of those things happened.
What did happen was me basically melting into liquid on his dick, babbling incoherently as I came again, harder than the first time. I collapsed onto his shoulder, unable to move as he slammed into me one last time, with a harsh grunt that set off a whole ‘nother round of convulsions between my legs.
This time, when we fell into bed together, he stayed engaged, keeping his arms locked around me as he settled back. He was still inside of me, had gone soft after his orgasm and then come back to life by the time I felt lucid enough to try to move, only to be met with his quiet snores.
Shit.
I relaxed into his chest, almost feeling bad about waking him up so I could leave. After what he’d done for me, I kinda felt like he deserved this sleep. He’d earned it, for making my body feel this good.
With a heavy sigh, I decided that it couldn’t hurt anything to let him sleep for a bit.
Might not be a bad idea to catch a few Zs yourself…
Hmm.
Maybe not.
Sleeping in men’s beds – especially strange ones – wasn’t my thing, so I knew I wouldn’t do too much. Just a few minutes… just a power nap, then I would try to untangle myself, and sneak out. I could easily make my way home.
With that settled, I made myself comfortable against him, looking up at his sleeping face. He wasn’t the type of handsome that could classify him as a “pretty boy”, but with that deep, rich brown skin, lush beard, and those locs… he was beautiful.
I smiled to myself, happy with the way I was ending my first night as a new resident of Mahogany Heights. The impromptu Dani concert, and then… this, with him, had been a perfect welcome.
As I closed my eyes, intent on making sure that I really did stay just a few more minutes, there was only one thing that left me feeling the tiniest bit unsettled.
…. I wonder what his name is.