Malik had gone on a run and Sandi was sitting in the sun, swiping away on her iPad. Joanna’s phone chimed and it began. Feigning innocent, she went back to playing with Malachi. Stacking the blocks, asking him to say words he may never speak although Emani had written the check for his speech therapist and covered the sessions in full for the sake of being the boy’s godmother. A sick request to sleep with her man, have his child and ask her to be the godmother.
Like a bolt of lightning, Sandi ran in the house, iPad in hand. “This isn’t good.”
Joanna knitted her brows and Janet turned to look at her. “What’s not good?”
“ShadyPalms just uploaded a post.”
Joanna shrugged nonchalantly as if she didn’t hire the photographer and sell the images to the blog. “Okay, they do that all the time.”
“Yeah, except this time, it’s you and Malik hugged up on the beach,” Sandi spoke, shoving the iPad in Joanna’s face. “Do you understand if this shit goes up in smoke, so do we?”
Janet snatched the iPad from Sandi and scrolled through the images of them hugged up in a cabana and another of Joanna on her knees between his legs. “How many times have I told y’all to keep this shit out of the public eye?”
On cue, Malik strolled in from his run, sweaty and confused about why all three women held a pensive expression. “What’s wrong?”
“The blogs, somehow, have picked up you getting your little dick sucked on the beach,” Janet huffed. “I don’t know what’s worse, not sticking to the plan or getting caught right before you have your way.”
Janet tossed the iPad on the couch and stomped off. “I’ll make some calls and have this disappear just like that night you two got drunk at the club and got caught with your tongues down each other’s throats. Malik, pack your shit, you got to beat your fiancée home.”
“Shit,” Sandi blew. “Emani is going to lose her shit.”
Malik turned to look at her. “Aren’t you her manager? Fix this. The fuck you standing there for.”
“Malik,” Joanna finally spoke up.
“Don’t say shit to me right now. I’m a week from marrying her and having access to her shit and this is about to fuck up everything. Get this shit packed up.”
23 /JAHLIL
Emani Rose in the morning.The sight of her fresh-faced, tucked at his side and peacefully sleeping after a night of mildly-drunk sex and reconnection had to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever experienced in his life. Then and now. He could feel his heart literally skip a beat as he took her in. To say he missed her was an understatement. Every bone, nerve ending, organ, muscle, nail and hair follicle longed for this woman. She was made for him. She supported, pushed, and created space for the parts of him that were tender to be protected. Being from Los Oceania, surrounded by Azul Hearts, showing softness or tenderness was off limits. That shit would get you killed. Even on the court, opponents would take the people you held dear and use that to get in your head.
Emani was safety and strength and he’d foolishly let that go. The longer he stared at her, the more his body melted underneath her leg thrown over him and her hand on his chest. He kissed her face. Slowly, placing his admiration against the top of her head, forehead, and the tip of her nose once she lifted her face up for exposure. Jahlil turned his body to press against hers and held her face while he continued to kiss her.
Emani moaned, one arm folded between them the other wrapped around him. “I love your kisses.”
He nestled his nose against hers. “I know. You be bringing this shit out of me.”
“What’s that? The best?” Emani asked between kisses and touches.
He hooked his arm between her thighs so she could wrap herself around him. She reached between them, placing his hardness at her opening and pushing her hips against him as he thrusted into her. Their mouths open and pressed against one another.
Jahlil shuddered. “Fuck, E.”
“Tell me what I bring out of you,” she winced against his lips. “Tell me.”
“The fucking best,” he groaned, palming her ass. “I’m not coming off of you, baby.”
“Please don’t,” she moaned, arms wrapped around his shoulder, hands pressed against the back of his head. Sloppy kisses, her body making a mess around him, sweat lessening the friction between their bodies.
“Put me through the mattress, Savage,” Emani moaned and Jahlil did exactly what was requested of him.
When he woke up again, he could hear laughter flooding the house. The crew was here and Emani was more than likely downstairs in the mix. He groaned with a smirk on his face at the fact that Emani had fucked him to sleep for the second time in a row. At this point, she was two for two and he was going to have to reclaim his title. The sting of the scratches on his back were a sweet reminder that his world was coming back to its rightful order.
Showered and dressed for the tailgating at the game and a quick check in with this aunt and kids he headed downstairs. Carson was fixing Emani a plate of food, Ashton was mixing drinks and Emani and Donnée were in the living room with Derrick giggling about something.
“Look at this nigga, walking like a peacock at eleven thirty in the morning. Who did the bending last night?” Ashton asked.
“Not the nigga running around all night in the pink cut-off shirt asking me if I got bent up?” Jahlil asked, popping him across the back of the head. “How many ways your ass get fold up last night?”
