Courtney opened the box, and she gasped when she saw the beautiful strand of pearls inside.“These are your nana’s, Shy. She left these to you in her will. I can’t accept this,” Courtney said.
“You can and you will,” Shy stated.“My grandmother was from Louisiana, girl, and she didn’t pass these down to me because they’re expensive. Her great, great-grandmother gave them to her. She blessed them in the backwoods of Bastrop. You probablyain’t even never heard of it. Those pearls protected every woman in my family from any man who ever wanted to do her harm, starting with the slave master she originally made them because of. Swear to God, last nigga who tried to plot on me teeth fell out his mouth, and the nigga went bald, and his dick stopped working.”
Courtney went from tears to gut-hurting laughter.
“I promiseyouuuu!” Shy hollered.“Now, they yours, so James can play if hewanna. Nigga gon’fuck with them ancestors, and theyain’t never playing about whoever wearing that necklace. Voodoo the fuck out his ass!”
Courtney rushed Shy and hugged her tightly as she released pent-up emotion, crying on her shoulder.
Shy closed her eyes and held her back.“Merry Christmas, boo. You’re going to be okay. We promise you, sis.”
Sloan tossed and turned for hours as she tried to force her mind to shut off. She was worried about so many things. She and Ellie had spoken for over an hour after she got home. Ellie was so hurt, and all Sloan could do was pray with her and be a listening ear. Courtney’s situation weighed heavily on her as well. She had already gone online and started a new bank account in Courtney’s name. Luckily, she had Court’s social security number from her medical records, since she was Courtney’s OBGYN as well. She had put aside ten thousand dollars in emergency money, just in case Courtney ever felt the need to escape permanently. She knew it took time to leave, and that Courtney would likely end up back at home. Sloan didn’t like the idea of her friend being trapped in a situation due to lack of finances. It wouldn’t happen on her watch. It seemed like Shy was the only one who didn’t have a pressing problem to fix, and she was grateful for that. Then, there was the looming heartache hovering over her bed like a storm cloud. She felt like she had been gutted right down the center. She may not share her problems with her friends, but she had them. She had a lot of them, but she was the strong friend. She was the one they went to for support. She couldn’t show weakness and reciprocate a need because who would hold their circle down? She lay in bed in anguish. Cassidy had blindsided her. She could still feel his touch. She could still taste his lips. She wanted to call him, but it justwasn’t appropriate. What would she tell people? They didn’t have a shot at anything real. She couldn’t claim him publicly. She was in a predominantly white and very corporate profession. The medical field was elitist. She had worked very hard to be respected in the healthcare community and to be an advocate for Black maternal medicine. She couldn’t let a man with a record a mile long claim her. She could never introduce him to anyone. As soon as they looked him up, her entire career would be discredited. She knew it was wrong, but it was life. It was how the world worked. He hadn’t been a part of the world in a long time, so he was naïve if he thought otherwise. He could call her uppity all he wanted. She was a realist, and even though she felt such ease in his presence, she knew he was a very temporary visitor in her life. He could never stay. Her history, mixed with his history, was a recipe for disaster anyway. Even if she could get past the professional stain it would cause, the things that traumatized her from her childhood were triggered by his story, and she couldn’t shake that, no matter how hard she tried. Her tears were so natural that she didn’t even realize they were falling until her pillow was soaked. They just leaked out the corners of her eyes as she stared at the wall. She had never felt a connection like the one she felt when she was around Cassidy. It didn’t matter if they were in agreement or at odds, the energy exchange was electrifying. Some days, she went through her routine simply because she had done it so many times before. She knew what to do, when to do it, and what to say, like clockwork. She just switched the day of the week and the color of the scrubs. When she was near him, days felt lived. They felt unique. She felt every second. He ignited jealousy, anger, excitement, intrigue, confusion, allure, infatuation, seduction. She felt alive, but the one emotion that she didn’t want to feel was also present. He triggered a dark place. A fear that he hadn’t put in her was also reignited in his presence, and it was strong enough to halt her in her tracks. Still, being away from him, especially after knowingly hurting him, felt like torture. She remembered meeting him for the first time. He was just as fine then as he was now, and she had been enamored by him. He was the most geared-up boy on his block. He sold dope just to be able to afford his signature Tommy Hilfiger and Jordan sneakers. She wondered if he remembered the day she had become infatuated with him. Sloan was a regular fixture in the Whitlock household, and one Saturday night she couldn’t sleep. She knew she needed to because Mama Whitlock had a strict rule. If you spent the night at their house on Saturday, you were waking your butt up for church Sunday morning, and she wasn’t letting you miss Sunday school either. But Sloan couldn’t shut her mind down. She was in the 9th grade when he walked in on her, eating ice cream at the kitchen table by herself. He was sneaking into the house at two o’clock in the morning, and he hadn’t expected to find her sitting in the dark. It was the night he had asked her aboutDeyontae Cook. She was so proud to have an older boyfriend that she ignored his warnings, but they stayed up all night, eating ice cream and talking about their dreams. He had planned to go to college and pledge a frat. She had wanted to become a doctor. He told her he would show her around if she ended up where he was. He insisted on her ending up where he was, in fact, and she had agreed. She remembered it like it was yesterday. She still recalled the feeling of laughing with him on that living room floor. Telling him all her goals. Him telling her what type of businessman he was going to become. He had kissed her that night. He didn’t know that it had been her first real kiss, or he probably would have remembered. She remembered, however, and although she had a boyfriend, she had planned to meet him at Howard University one day. Only he never made it. She watched him drift farther and farther into the streets until the night of his arrest. All their lives had changed that day. Sloan remembered the sick feeling of devastation that had crippled her for months after the police had taken him. She wondered if he knew that she had held onto that one night… those plans, she had taken them seriously, and he had broken her heart. He had chosen a different path, and she went on to fulfill everything she had told him she would.
“Fuck this,” she whispered as she climbed out of bed and abandoned the room, bare feet carrying her to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of Cabernet. The silence in this beautiful home was ugly. To be this successful, yet this unaccomplished all at the same time was nasty fucking work. Where were her children? Where was her man? Where were the wedding pictures that were supposed to be sitting on the mantle? The home was sterile, barren— like her womb. She picked up her phone, and her thumb lingered over his name. She swallowed down the whole damn glass of wine. Liquid courage. She surrendered her burden to the ceiling as she let her head fall back on the couch pillow in despair.“Don’t call this man,” she whispered. She reached for the bottle on her living room table and poured another glass. How she could clear an entire bottle of wine, by having only two glasses should be studied. A bitch was sulking, and wine was the remedy. She wondered if they had wine drinking contests, like those stupid-ass hot dog eating contests. She scoffed at the ridiculousness of her own mind. She was that fucking bored. That lonely. She had nothing better to do but think about stupid-ass shit because she had done some stupid-ass shit and let some phenomenal-ass dick slip through her fingers tonight. She was a smart girl, but clearly, she lacked common sense.“Know damn well prison niggas got good dick,” she scolded herself.
She swallowed her pride and centered herself Indian-style on the couch. She had rejected Cassidy earlier. She was nervous that he would push her away. She pressed his name anyway. She braced herself as the phone rang. She was so damn anxious, and her worst fears were realized when the voicemail picked up. Fear crippled her as she wondered if he was with another woman. Maybe the woman who had borrowed her face the other night. He didn’t have to do that tonight. No need to fantasize. He could have the real thing. All he had to do was answer the phone. Sloan didn’t know if she was chasing something that was bad for her or avoiding something that was good for her. Her discernment was off; she just knew she needed something from him. There would either be a consequence or a blessing at the end of this decision. She was prepared for either. Or maybe the Sauvignon was convincing her that she could handle this.
“Answer the fucking phone, boy!” she shouted into his voicemail.
Her doorbell rang, and panic struck her. Hurried feet and white-painted toenails ran across the hardwood floors, and she pulled the curtain aside to peer outside. It was two o’clock in the morning, and it looked like a blizzard outside, and he was standing on her doorstep. She unlocked the door, and her chest heaved, and her brow wrinkled. Her entire body was revolting. A stampede of soldiers marching on behalf of love charged forward inside her chest. She didn’t even know how he knew where she lived. She really didn’t care. He could have stalked her ass, and she would have given him a gold star for ingenuity at this point. He stepped inside, and she shut the door. He was in different clothes, so she knew he had gone home first before coming there. He smelled like he knew he was about to make love to a woman. The Tom Ford cologne infected her air as soon as he crossed the threshold of her home. She never wanted to forget that smell. She wanted him to move in and spray that shit all over the place, to make her home, his home, to turn her scent to his scent. How long had he been outside her house? Was the conflict between them weighing on him the way it was with her? Was the distance between them torture for him, too?
“Why does this feel like this?” she panted.
“Because life made us wait,” he answered. Her eyes misted, and she held her breath as he closed the space between them.“It’s two decades of anticipation between us,” he said, as he stared at her. She nodded and lowered her head. She was so emotional and a little drunk. He lifted her chin.“I know why you’re mad. Iknow where the resentment comes from. I know why you’re holding back. I hate that you’ve been lonely, Sloan, but I’m so fucking grateful itain’t a nigga in the way. Almost like you saved it for me,” Cassidy said. She had so many things to say before he arrived, but now, she couldn’t find words. Only tears. Only fears. He was gentle in the way he kissed her collarbone. She pinched her eyes closed, and she felt her chin fall victim to the trap between his fingers as he kissed her and then scooped her off her feet. She dropped the wine glass, not caring that it shattered on her floor. Frantic hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders as he carried her into the living room. He placed her on the oversized, plush, ivory couch, and she unwrapped her package, removing his hoodie, then his t-shirt, as they kissed slowly. The Nike Tech joggers came next. She knew what to expect at the end. She had felt it when they had kissed earlier in the day, but seeing all of him was mind-blowing. She hadn’t had dick like this before, especially dick that was making up for lost time. She was afraid she may not be able to take it, but damn it, she was going to try. He pulled her thighs to the edge of the couch and lowered to his knees. Her powder blue silk teddy and short kimono robe allowed easy access, and he hoisted her hips up in the palms of his hands like he was prepared to eat watermelon on a hot summer day.“Damn,” he whispered as he dove in. Her clit was paying attention. She was so ready and wanting that it was swollen and glistening in a pond of desire. It was so fat and pretty that Cassidy licked his lips and took a preliminary taste just to sample it first.
“Mmm,” he appreciated. He immediately went back in. Her stomach caved in as he sucked on her whole pussy. Clit, labia, perineum, ass, he ate it all. She thought she might have to coach him, that she would have to tell him what she liked. Sloan didn’t have to say shit. He was a man deprived, and she was a woman in supply of everything he needed.
“Cassidy!” she shouted.“Oh my god!”
It had been so long since she had been touched by a man. Nobody had ever eaten her pussy like this. She folded. Literally, he folded her in half, pushing her legs back and ravishing her. Some men were too rough with a woman. They sucked too hard or used too much spit, or not enough, or they licked the cat wrong like they were scared to get their faces wet. Cassidy did every motherfucking thing right, EVERYTHING. She Didn’t know if it was because he had been constrained from a woman for so long or if the nigga was just a beast, but he slurped on her pussy like it was his job; like she was his parole officer, and he was trying to seduce his way out of a drug test; like it was his last meal before execution. He had, indeed, fantasized about her; she could tell just from the way he handled her. There was so much appreciation in his touch, so much gratefulness in every suckle of her clit. He was in distress, and her clit was pacifying him. He didn’t rush. He went through seven courses, and Sloan was losing her mind.
“Is it good,baby?” she whispered as she stared between her legs, mouth slightly ajar as she witnessed his exquisite work. She was amazed.
“Mmm,” he groaned.
“Cass,” she panted.“Cass, please don’t make me cum yet. I won’t be able to cum again if you don’t slow down.”
He paused, and she sat up on her elbows, winded as he worked around her clit, placing teasing kisses on her inner thigh.
“Please. I want to last with you. I can’t orgasm more than once,” she admitted.“I don’t know why. It just doesn’t happen that way.”
“Yeah, you can, baby,” he whispered confidently.“Let me show you.” He inserted three fingers inside her and pumped them slowly as he massaged her clit with his free thumb. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head.A guttural sound escaped her as he covered her clit with full lips and applied pressure, then circled it with his tongue.“I’m about to nut.Cassssss.”
“I can taste it,”he assured her.“Good fucking girl.”
He stood, and his dick was completely hard. His skin stretched so beautifully over those eight, thick inches that she didn’t dare ask him to cover it. She knew fucking better too. She taught sex education classes, and still, logic was snatched from her brain at the sight of that good dick. He could see her weighing the consequences of some deadly disease in her mind. The doctor in her was overthinking. Not really because she was a grown-ass woman and she was thinking on point, but she was in her head and about to ruin the moment.“Trust me,” he whispered. He knew he used condoms with other women; she didn’t, but the fact that she let him proceed spoke volumes for him.
He slid his girth up her wet slit, coating himself in her first and teasing her sensitive clit even more before finally entering with ease. He slid all the way inside until his balls touched her ass, and then he rested there for a minute. That pussy was tight, warm, and soaked. She hummed around him. Pussy would talk to a man if he were doing his job and hers was speaking in French. He pulsated inside her. His dick was begging him for a little release. Precum was oozing out of him as he rested inside her for a few seconds. He was hitting a spot so tender that she reached down to grab his wrists.
“Iain’t gon’take nothing you don’t want to give, baby. I’m in the right spot. You give me how much you want me to have,” he coached. She rolled her hips slowly, adjusting to his size and whimpering with every movement she made. She was timid, and he knew it was because someone had hit her with sex that had hurt or caused discomfort before.
“Can I take care of you?” he asked. She knew what he was asking. He wanted control over this night, over her body. He was about to deliver some good dick, and he needed her to trust him. He hit her with one slow stroke, and he felt her get wetter. She nodded, and he continued. His body was incredible. He used every muscle to control the pace and was careful not to weigh her down as he tensed into her depths. Missionary with him wasn’t boring. It was the position for lovers. She had never felt this connected with a man before. He placed kisses of adulation all over her body as he stroked. His favorite spot to kiss was her lips, but he gave every part of her a little time. Her ears, her chin, the valley at the base of her neck that sank in every time she cried his name. Each perfect brown nipple, her fingers that he made her dip into her juices so he could taste her more, and even her toes.
“That’s two,” he counted as he watched her cream on his dick. She was coating him, and Cassidy had to stop stroking and change positions to stop his nut.
He climbed on the couch, sitting on his knees.“Turn around, baby. Sit on it,” he instructed. She used the back of the couch to hold onto as she rode him in reverse. Sloan was a fit woman. She did Pilates every morning to make sure she stayed in shape, and it showed in her stamina. The way her ass moved as she rode him was a vision, and the stretch marks that covered it was art in human form.
“You riding it so good. You waited for me, didn’t you?” he asked.
