What in the hell am I doing here? Walking out in this cold ass weather wearing a trench coat, some thigh-high leather boots with a heel high enough to put me at eye level with a baby giraffe, and not a stitch of clothing underneath. Seems like it would’ve made sense to consider how windy it was out, seeing as every tree outside my third story window was swaying, and didn’t stop as I passed them in the parking lot on the way to my car. Leaves were crackling and falling to the ground, their crisp music paling in comparison to the thumping in my chest. I couldn’t even think of who to blame for my poor judgement. I knew better than this shit. Anything that happened before, during, or after this visit, that I swore would never happen in the first place, would be a disaster. We were a match made in hell, and no matter how good it felt when we were together, it would eventually change for the worse.
You know what? On second thought, I do know who to blame. It was Elle Varner’s ass—well maybe it was a split between her and Te’ Russ, since Refill was humming from the surround sound speakers in my bedroom after clicking on her damn Spotify playlist. I mean how could I not? Who wouldn’t wanna relive the moments you experienced while reading Noble Seduction? Everything was better with a soundtrack.
Anyway, had it not been for that, he would’ve never crossed my mind, and neither would his lips, his fingers, his palms, his tattoos, and oh my goodness, his dick. It was no coincidence that the second his perfectly sculpted face popped into my head, he shot me a text, interrupting my favorite part of the song. You know, that part when Elle shows off her range and rifting abilities? There was no way I was gonna ignore that “Wassup, Big head?” text with all the heat pooling in my pelvis from the sight of his name on my phone screen. It made absolutely zero sense to be this wrapped in somebody I swore to ignore just two weeks prior. But here I stood, at his door, buck naked in some boots under a got damn trench coat.
The nerve it took to simply ring the doorbell almost made me feel like I was twelve years old again. Similar—scratch that, identical, to the first time I ever met this dude. My brother was mostly a good kid, but he always attracted the most thugged out friends. Daddy once called him the Hoodlum Whisperer, and to this day, I don’t think he realizes how funny that was.
Though Nick was only two and half minutes older than me, he swore that equated to a damn decade. If I even so much as blinked at one of his friends, he’d kick me out of the living room, kitchen, or wherever they were gathering, and threaten to tell Mama that he caught me smoking weed with my friend Alicia behind the school. Of course, that wasn’t true. I could barely stand the smell of that stuff when I was little. Now, of course, my smell receptors had matured and taken a liking to the smell of many things. But that’s beside the point. Mama believed everything her little Nicky said, and I wasn’t willing to gamble on that ass whooping.
In any event, that iron fist mentality my brother took up kept me away from his friends for the duration of the time we spent under the same roof, and almost a decade afterward. And it wasn’t all his doing. Seems my taste matured the older I got, and the bad boys who were once the objects of my adolescent fantasies, were now caution signs that I dodged at every turn.
Until now…
“Ma’am, you lost?” Slim’s deep, smoky voice hurried me out of my thoughts, as he stood there in his doorway, creamed skin dewy from a shower, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
“I umm… I was. Hey.” My brows went up and a nervous smile crossed my lips.
“Sup?” He nodded, eyes roving down then back up my body, effortlessly setting me on fucking fire. “Surprised your ass didn’t run off. Get in here ‘fore you freeze to death.”
“How would I freeze with this coat on?” I asked, stepping into his place, grazing his wrist with my hip as he held his long arm along the door.
“Cause, you’re naked under that mother fucker.” He grinned, taking his eyes on another trip up and down my frame.
“Wait, how’d you know?” I turned around, squinting at him as he pushed the door closed and locked it behind his back, stepping toward me, sending that V that traveled from both sides of his pelvis, down to the thing I couldn’t wait to get my hands on.
“You just told me.” He grinned. “You need some help getting out of it?”
There was no need to act shy. He’d contorted my body into more positions than I even knew were possible on various secret rendezvous. And I’d spent the bulk of my days sitting at my desk, bedroom, kitchen table, hell everywhere basically, remembering him and the way he made me feel. I was hooked. Sad thing is I knew I would be; which is why I listened when my brother told me not to fuck with Slim.
“Only if you want to.” I teased, scraping my teeth over my bottom lip.
Slim’s eyes caught mine somewhere in the middle, where restraint had died and lust had taken over, and he held me there in suspense like a kitten desperate for milk. I was too proud to beg him to hurry up and put those tattooed hands on me. To rip off this damn trench coat, that now felt ten times heavier and twenty times hotter than it did before I walked through the door of his black and gray splashed condominium. But if given another thirty seconds to stew in this desperation, I would have no other choice but to give in and turn into TLC right where I stood. An avoidance had turned into a want. A want had turned into a need. And though I didn’t want to admit it, it would probably eventually turn into much more than that if I didn’t control myself.
Slim took one step closer to me, reaching down to the towel wrapped snug around his waist and unraveling it slowly. My wet lip slipped from between my teeth, springing out and falling open as saliva formed on the inside of my mouth. I wanted to look down, having no desire to miss even the tiniest exposure of the area below his waist. That massive bulge hanging beneath that towel was real. I’d seen it, touched it, and committed it to memory, but he stopped me, stepping in against me and raising his hand from the towel he was holding in place, letting it fall to the floor as he grabbed my chin and directed my eyes up to meet his.
“Did you miss me?” He whispered against my lips. I came a little bit from the rumbling in his voice.
I swallowed, sending a salty taste spreading across the top of my gums. I wanted to welcome his kisses so bad, the anticipation was borderline painful.
“Just say it.” He whispered again, pecan brown eyes fixed on me like a pen to paper. “Say it so I can rip this fuckin coat off you.”
“I did.” I purred. And the words completely drained me. I had spent so much energy trying to breath and not collapse in these boots, I was exhausted.
“You did what?” His eyes widened, soft, skinny fingers still enveloping my chin.
My eyes went up and my head tilted to the side. I just wanted to come here, get my brains fucked out, then go back home and sleep like a bear. “Slim, really?” I sighed. “Is all this necessary?”
I could feel his erection die against my thigh. “What you mean, all this?” He let go of my chin, still standing close enough for me to smell the minty weed on his breath. “You can’t admit to missin me? I missed yo ass.”
“It’s not that.” I rolled my shoulders backward. “I just thought we had an understanding. Like this mushy shit ain’t necessary.”
“Pssh.” He blew out a breath, backing away from me and bending over to pick up his towel and wrap it back around his waist.
“What the fuck is that?” I squealed. My whole vagina was dry at this point.
“Nothin.”
“Slim, seriously? I drove fuckin thirty minutes to get over her and you actin like a bitter ex? And we ain’t never been a couple. So, why?”
“Cause you actin like a dude, Tori.” He shrugged, walking past me to sit down on his black, leather sofa. And even while I stood there pissed, this mother fucker still managed to look sexy.
“A dude?” I huffed out a laugh. “Listen, most dudes would kill to be dealing with a chick who acted like a dude. I mean, I assumed that’s what y’all want. Especially you, Casanova.”
“You right.” He looked over at me, standing with my arms folded, shifting my weight to one hip to take the pressure off my feet. “With most chicks, yeah, that’s what we want. But you ain’t most chicks. You’re Tori.”
“Yes, Tori who is horny as fuck and doesn’t care to exchange niceties right now.” I returned, unfolding my arms and starting to unbutton my trench. “Now I was giving you the opportunity to unwrap this plate I brought for you.” I undid the first and second buttons as he watched with a big ass smile on his face. “But since you wanna be childish and play with your food,” I continued, swaying my hips as I made my way toward him, using half my focus to undo the buttons and the other half to not fall on my face since my feet were nearly numb. “I’ll just peel the foil off for you.” I quickly unfastened the last two buttons and pulled my coat open, exposing what must’ve looked like an early Christmas present since that bulge under his towel had reappeared.
“Foil? Really?” He grinned, exposing the sexiest set of pearly whites that had ever bitten my nipples. “You country as fuck. You know that?” He stood up, dropping the towel that he hadn’t secured around his waist. He and I both knew that I didn’t make this drive over here for either of us to wake up the next morning not happily exhausted.
I didn’t say another word, though I wanted to go back and forth about how he was more country than me and that he got on my damn nerves. But the throbbing between my legs as he walked over and stood before me, fully erect and naked, spreading his long, skinny fingers across the soft skin on my shoulders, slipping my coat right off me and watching it fall to the floor, rendered me completely speechless. I bent a knee upward to accentuate my bare hips. I secretly wanted to see how sexy I looked under the lighting in his place with those black leather boots clinging to my caramel thighs. Slim probably could’ve busted a hole in a wall as hard as he was, bathing me with those deep brown eyes, licking his lips and shaking his head. He wanted to taste me. It was written all over his face. That same longing gaze he gave that night in Vegas when he picked me up, placed my ass on top of his mini bar top, spread my legs apart, and leaned in to pull my panties off with his teeth. The brother was almost salivating, taking in as much of me as possible before it became too much. Slim was breathing in my pheromones, resisting the urge to add taste to the plate of me that he was already having, until he couldn’t anymore and pulled me in against him, taking my lips into his mouth then slicing them open with his long, warm tongue. I could very well have been on fire inside, all hot and boiling from the pressure of his palms pressing against the small of my back, fingers grazing the rise of my hips, killing me ever so softly. Excited by his hardness throbbing against my thigh, I raised my arms to drape them over his inked shoulders, but he stopped me. Back in Vegas it was whatever I wanted to do, but this go-round, we were on his turf, and I wouldn’t be controlling a got damn thing.
“Turn around.” He demanded, sending a chill traveling down my spine and other parts that I never knew a chill could reach.
He held me by my fingertips with my arms still up in the air, and spun me around until my ass was facing him and I was facing the balcony of his condo. A stretch of stratus clouds floated past the tall, glass doors separating us from the outsidr, and it felt like I was floating on them as Slim’s hands laid on the rise of my shoulders, smoothing down my back, over my behind, finally reaching the curve of my calves where the zippers to my boots started. He unzipped them one by one, planting kisses on my ass cheeks and looking up with a cunning grin every time I giggled. I was sensitive and tingly all over when it came to him. Nobody had ever explored my body in this way and that attention to detail would take some time for me to get used to.
I slipped my foot out of the first boot, leaning back to balance myself on his squared, broad shoulders. Then on to the next with his approval, relieved to be standing flat on my feet, nearly half a foot shorter than this 6’5 sex machine. I involuntarily curled my neck to the side as he rose from his knees, pressing his body against the back of mine, peppering kisses down the side of my neck, biting down as he arrived at the space between my neck and shoulder because he knew I liked it.
“You taste so fuckin good.” He mumbled against my skin, awakening yet another region with tingles. “You sprayed sugar on your skin before you got here?”
With anybody else, that would’ve been a rhetorical question. But with Slim, it definitely needed an answer. Plus, I had sprayed sugar on myself… kind of.
“It’s a sugar scrub.” I giggled, tickled and turned on by his tongue wagging away at my neck. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be tasted, though. I must not’ve rinsed it all off.”
“Your ass was in a rush to get this dick.” His windy chuckle landed in my ear. “And in the future, don’t rinse that shit off.” He resumed kissing and tasting my skin.
“You’re gonnna have ants if I don’t rinse it off.” I smiled, breathing easy while my heart beat found a rhythm in my chest that matched the repetition of Slim’s kisses making smacking noises in my ear.
“Let me worry about that.” He said, having had enough of the sugar scrub from my neck, bending me over at the waist and dropping back down to his knees to see if I had any left between my legs.
His big hands spread my ass cheeks open like a CCJ paperback, diving into me tongue first before I could estimate what was happening. I rapped my hands around the back of my ankles to keep my balance. He was licking me so vigorously, I would’ve easily tipped over otherwise. Thoughts of anything but cumming had long escaped my mind as he reached his hand under me, locating my clitoris and rubbing it fast and firm. With blood rushing to my head, a failed to pacify the scream that had been lodged in my throat, quickly succumbing to the warm electric energies shooting down through my pelvis.
Satisfied with his ability to make me lose control and let go of all inhibitions, he stood back up right before climax sent me falling over on my face, grabbing me at the waist and turning me around to face him. I could look up into this man’s eyes until I fell asleep every night. Big, and brown, and telling, contrasting with his tinted creamy skin. I hated myself for allowing him to hypnotize me like this. Sixteen years of name calling and sisterly hatred, all went down the drain as his finger slipped between my thighs, spread them apart, and pushed into me, damn near lifting me off my feet. I was soaking wet around his fingers, rolling against his palm while he stared into my eyes, not smiling or speaking, fully focused on making me cum before we even made it to his bedroom. My face contorted with satisfaction, breasts smashed against his chest as I draped my arms over his shoulders, scratching him without considering the scars I might leave on the surface of his inked skin while I held on for dear life. Slim was fingering me like his life depended on it and it didn’t take long before I gave both of us life, exploding over his digits, sending a cascade of climax flowing down his forearm.
“You needed that shit, Tori?” He grinned after making me shiver and shutter like I was having a damn seizure. This shit wasn’t safe. Nobody should me making anybody feel that damn good.
I bit down on my bottom lip, eyes closed as I recovered, arms dropping to the side as he pulled me in and sucked my tongue out of my mouth, sliding his lips up and down it, driving me fucking insane.
Then, “You hungry?” He asked, squeezing my ass then backing away. I was not in the mood for this tease shit. I needed to be fucked. Hard and without any consideration for my damn back.
“Not for food.” I rolled my eyes up at him, dragging my nails down his chiseled abs, landing at his dick.
“We got all night.” He said, placing a kiss on my lips that had boyfriend written all over it.
Was I really gonna have to go over this shit again?
“Slim— “
“Don’t start that fussin shit.” He cut me off. “It’s cold out. Pops made me some chili and I ain’t about to eat it all. Just eat some.”
“I didn’t come over here for no chili. I came over here for dick.” I never had an issue being blunt with Slim, and that wouldn’t change, even under these conditions.
“Well to get this dick, you gotta eat. I’m not tryna have you tappin out like you did in Vegas cause your ass skipped breakfast.” He walked his naked ass into the kitchen and grabbed a huge Tupperware bowl from the refrigerator.
“I tapped out cause nobody can have that much sex without damn near dying.” I defended, following the path he made to the kitchen, stopping at the round, glass table with four gray, leather chairs around it and taking a seat. “Your Pops a good cook?”
He peeled the lid off the big bowl and poured the chili into a small sauce pan that he’d fetched from a high rack over the kitchen island. “Best one I know.” He looked over at me with that sex still shimmering in his eyes.
He turned on the pilot under the sauce pan and reached over to pull out a drawer and grab a large spoon. “Why didn’t you just stick it in the microwave?” I asked, puzzled as to why he’d turn a four-minute task into a ten-minute one.
“You got somewhere you need to be, man?” He scrunched his nose, smiling at me, making me wish he wasn’t who he was so I could love that shit.
“No. I’m just wondering why you’d dirty up a sauce pan when you could just pop it in the microwave and be done with it.”
“First of all,” He started, now focused on stirring the chili and not at my rude ass face. “Pops would lose his shit if he found out I nuked anything he cooked.”
I would’ve laughed had it not been for the dead seriousness in his voice as he stood naked before a sauce pan stirring his father’s chili. “Second, some shit should just take time. I mean look how long it took me to get you.”
Until then, it hadn’t dawned on me that my naked ass was pressed against a warm leather chair, but suddenly, it was the only thing I could focus on; that and the truth in Slim’s statement. He’d gotten me. After sixteen years of running and jumping through my stupid hurtles, Slim had me, physically. And I wasn’t about to get all self-righteous and storm out. I was gonna let him have me again after we ate this damn chili. And probably several times after, because I simply couldn’t help my damn self. But that would be it. My body would be the only part of me he could have. Not my mind, not my heart, not my anything else. We could have casual sex. People do that all the time with no strings attached, and Slim was a player already anyway. Shit would be second nature to him if I could convince him to get all the way over this crush. He was a grown man, for God’s sake, and he should understand that sometimes, things ain’t meant to be.
“Whatever.” I said, leaning forward on my elbows, admiring his physique as the steam rose from the pot.
He dipped the spoon into the pot, coming up with a small bit on the spoon, and blowing it before he sucked it into his mouth. “Come taste it.” He said, dipping the spoon back in and pulling it up to his lips to cool it for me.
I stood from my warmed seat and padded over to the stove, nipples hardening in the tiny, warm breeze I created from moving so fast. His eyes stayed on mine, not traveling down to my body like they did earlier. He cupped my chin and brought the spoon to my lips, feeding me chili like I was a toddler.
“Hmmm, this is good.” I said, not exaggerating at all. Might’ve been the best chili I’d ever tasted. And I considered myself a decent cook, so that was a well-earned compliment.
“Told you.” Slim nodded, turning his eyes from me back down to the pot for one last stir. “Pops can throw down.” He turned off the fire and slid to the left to grab two bowls from his glass fronted cabinet. “Got some wine in the frig.” He disclosed, spooning the chili into two separate bowls.
“Are these glasses okay to use?” I pointed to the built-in glass rack that hung over his sink. “Or would your Pops rather we drink it from mason jars?”
“You’re funny.” He smiled, picking up the bowls of chili and taking them over to the table. “Funny and distracting as fuck with your nipples poked out like that.” He looked up from the table as I approached with chilled wine and glasses in hand. “I’ma fuck the shit outta you when we finish this food, T.” He said, like it was a threat.
And do you think I was bothered?
Not one damn bit!
We powered through that chili and gulped down that wine so fast, you would’ve sworn we were fugitives hiding out in somebody else’s house. I licked my spoon clean, making sure he saw me do it. Within moments, Slim had cleared the table, picked me up, and had my legs wrapped around his waist.
He carried me down the hallway, kissing me so intensely, he sucked the Cheyenne from the chili off my tongue. My fingers traveled over his tapered coils, massaging his scalp in appreciation of how amazing he was making my body feel, squeezing me tightly against him so I could feel him come to a swell. Slim pushed open his bedroom door, flipping the light switch to display a sea of silky blackness. Abstract paintings hung along his walls. Long black drapes hung from the ceiling to the floor. Smooth black linens covered his California King bed, and the crisp, cool sheets were like a dream come true as he laid me down on top of them.
He kissed me from my toes to the parting of my thighs, spreading them as far apart as they’d go before landing his face between them. Slim’s mouth was on me, sloppy and wet, licking up and down my clitoris, breathing into me like a wild beast.
“Even yo pussy taste sweet.” He glanced up into my eyes, lapping his tongue to the rhythm of my rolling hips. I held onto the back of his head, not wanting him to stop. I couldn’t pacify my moans If I wanted to at this point.
Emerging from between my legs like a serpent, he hovered over me, stroking himself while I squirmed beneath him, watching in suspense, waiting to feel him inside. Those brown eyes scanned me from my navel to my breasts. There was no denying that this man was loving what he saw. Slowly, and without hesitance, Slim lowered himself, sinking into me, sending me spiraling back into that familiar ecstasy. He filled me to capacity, thrusting harder until he reached my spot, tapping on it over and over again until my pelvis began to boil. I threw it back at him, giving as much as I could give. The walls were collapsing around us and I didn’t give a damn. He hummed in my ear, sucking my neck to stop from screaming. Slim was deep inside my pussy, fucking me like I was his.
“Fuck, Tori.” He moaned in my ear, voice trembling, on the verge of coming unglued. I shivered as his chest pressed against my breast, nearing an explosion with every single pump.
“Fuck me!” I cried out, begging him to take me there, back to where he took me in the jacuzzi, on the balcony, and on the kitchen island of his hotel room in Vegas. Scratching down his back, I held on tight out of fear that I might sink through the bed because it felt so good.
Harder and harder he plowed into me. My titties bounced up and down as he raised from my chest. I placed my hands on either side of his face, locking into his stare unintentionally. I’d never watched a man cum before, but Slim wouldn’t let my eyes go.
“Look at me.” He commanded as my face softened with submission. I was on the verge of climax and he knew it. “I wanna, uuugh! Fuck.” He moaned uncontrollably, pounding into me, sending blood rushing to my clit. “I wanna see that pretty face when you cum.” He struggled to finish.
I breathed in and out, faster and harder as the wave of lust encompassed me. And before I could say yes, or no, or maybe, I was spiraling into ecstasy, releasing all that was inside, with Slim spiraling behind me and collapsing on my belly.
We laid there in that position for a while. I caressed his head while he reached up and fondled my breasts. It felt so familiar, us grooming each other like monkeys and shit. Second nature is the best way I could describe it. Almost too perfect for two people who were so mix-matched.
“I gotta go, Slim.” I said, breaking the silence, or rather the sound of the cool winter breeze blowing outside his ninth story window. “I got work in the morning.” I looked down at the top of his dark brown coils to find that he was sound asleep, with his hand planted on my tittie.
I remembered how hard Slim used to sleep whenever Nick had sleepovers. He was always the one who got Miracle Whip, mustard, ketchup, and toothpaste on his face for falling asleep first, and even with all that stuff being squirted on him, he never woke up until one of the boys screamed in his ear. Mama always got on them about doing her boy like that, but that never stopped them, and I was about to use his dead sleeping disorder to sneak out of bed and get my ass home.
I pried his long arm from over my waist, dragging his hand off my breast, then slid out of the bed to collect my coat and heels, and hurry to the door before he took a breath and realized I wasn’t there. I felt guilty as hell, rushing to my car like a coward instead of lying in his arms all night until the sun came up like I really wanted to. But a line had to be drawn for the both of us, and if I didn’t draw it, Slim sure as hell wasn’t gonna do it. It was dangerous to take this further than we already had, and I wasn’t willing to risk having my feelings hurt because he couldn’t live up to what I needed. In so many ways, I was a broken woman, and I just didn’t see Slim as the type of glue that was necessary to not only pull me together, but hold me together for a long time.
So, I drove home fast with the radio blasting, and silenced my phone just in case he rolled over and called to confront me for ditching him without a round two. And when I got home, I turned the phone off completely, so that I could fall asleep without having to fight the urge to pick it up and see if he called. It wasn’t easy but it was necessary. If we could both survive this night without me giving into guilt or him feeling like he could call me out on being rude and dismissive, then the next time we saw each other, there’d be a better understanding of what we were… or weren’t.
To be continued...