“Open the door, Oshun! We need to talk.”
She took a deep breath, hoping the added oxygen would force her brain to stop thinking of how tasty he looked in his tight black t-shirt. The fabric was stretched so tightly across his muscled chest, it was difficult to focus on how she was going to resolve this situation.
“Mas, today isn’t a good day. I really need to be alone.”
She anticipated more yelling to accompany the anger that had him pounding his fist against her door only moments before. What she received instead was soft-spoken concern that unnerved her more than the violent banging had.
“Oshun, I’ve been worried sick about you. The last I saw you was the night of the fire. You haven’t answered one of my calls since then. Please, just talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s wrong.”
The sound of concern in his voice reminded her of how gentle he always was with her. He always sought to take care of her, meet her needs. It grieved her that her connection to the council had never allowed Oshun to reciprocate in kind.
“Watashi no megami, watashi ni hanashite kudasai.”
God, this man knew her weaknesses. Her mind raced with so many tender moments they’d shared. They were all filled with him working beyond her rough exterior by sharing his heritage with her.
It seemed silly, him speaking to her in Japanese, or him making her traditional Japanese meals shouldn’t have impacted her so greatly. But every time he did, it was as if he were sharing something so special about himself that she couldn’t help but feel proud he’d chosen to expose himself to her.
In their three months together, he’d taught her enough Japanese that she could pick up parts in a conversation to understand general meaning. That phrase specifically, he’d used it consistently when he was attempting to get her to share herself with him.
My goddess, please talk to me.
She remembered the first time he’d spoken those words. She’d asked him why he’d referred to her as a goddess. His response, “I didn’t call you ‘a’ goddess, but ‘my’ goddess. Mine because that’s how I see you, and goddess because Oshun was an African goddess.”
It shocked her that he’d known anything about the history of her name. It shocked her even more that he cared enough to learn it on his own without any prodding from her.
Hearing him appeal to the soft spot he knew she had for him made Oshun replace the safety on the gun, and slide it behind the security monitors on the table before she unlocked the door and opened it.
“Mas, calling me your goddess isn’t going to fix this.”
He walked past her, heading directly for her living room. If she’d been smart, he wouldn’t even know what her living room looked like. But, she’d allowed herself to fall so deeply under his spell, she’d permitted him in her home within a month of them meeting. Now, he was comfortable enough in her place that he didn’t need her to escort him to any part of it. Yet another mistake on her behalf she’d have to try to rectify.
“Oshun, you don’t just get to forget about me. Not without some sort of explanation anyway.”
His anger evident by the narrowed slits of his eyes and his squared shoulders held up by his hands positioned on either side of his waist. He was angry, but there was a control to his anger that made her reasonably certain he wasn't there to hurt her.
She shook her head quickly. A week ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible for Mas to hurt her. But, now that she knew there might be some connection between him and her enemies, she’d be a fool not to consider his ability to bring harm to her.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Mas. I told you when we started this I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’m sorry if the time we spent together made you think otherwise. Moving in together isn’t something I can do.”
He folded his arms across his chest, widened his stance, and licked his lips.
“So, you going ghost is all about the fact that I want you to be more than a piece of ass to me?”
She dropped her eyes to the floor as she nodded her head. Oshun knew full well she was more than just a sex partner to Masaki. He treasured her; it was evident in the way he expertly played her body with the simplest of touches. It was glaringly obvious in the ways he took care of her outside of bed, cooking for her, and showering her with attention and affection whenever they hid behind the walls of each other’s homes.
He stepped closer to her, using his finger to lift her chin, ensuring her gaze was locked on him.
“You don’t believe this bullshit you’re spewing. You may not say it Oshun, but, we both know I wasn’t the only one entangled in this thing between us.”
He dug his fingers through her locs, pulling her mouth to his, slipping his tongue inside as soon as their lips met. His right hand moved deftly up the side of her hip and around her waist, pulling her abruptly against him.
She tried not to crumble, well, at least that’s what she told herself in her head. But the truth was as soon as his lips touched hers, she was willing to do just about anything Masaki wanted.
He removed his hands from her hair and waist, moving them to the front of her button-down top. While his mouth still devoured hers, he pulled the top apart, letting his eager hands cup her lace-covered breasts. He ran his thumbs across her nipples, smiling against her mouth at the shiver he felt pass through her.
When his touch elicited a deep moan of satisfaction from her, he pulled his mouth away from hers. Securing his hands under her arms, he pulled her up until her legs were wrapped around his waist.
He walked them to her bedroom, laying her gently across the cool white linens beneath her. He pushed away from her, briefly taking the inviting warmth of his body with him as he reached for a condom in her nightstand drawer.
