Her hands wrapped around my head, her hips rolling, her body moving like she was trying to keep me buried inside her forever. I pulled back, smirking as I flicked my tongue across her nipple, watching her writhe. "You always this needy, or just for me? “She whimpered, her lips parted, her hands gripping my shoulders for dear life. "Just for you," she whispered. I slammed into her deeper, gripping her ass and lifting her, making sure she felt every inch, every stroke, every part of me. Her body shook, her nails dug into my skin, and I knew she was close. I wrapped my hand around her throat, tilting her head so our eyes locked. "Say it again," I demanded, my voice dark, husky, full of possession.
She gasped, her whole body trembling, her lips quivering. "Juste—I love you," she moaned. I smirked. "Mmhm I know "And right then, I gave her exactly what she needed—deep, slow, unrelenting strokes, making sure she never forgot who the fuck she belonged to. Her body trembled against mine, her breath coming out in soft, shaky moans as she finally came undone, gripping onto me like she never wanted to let go. I followed right behind her, groaning deep in my throat, filling her up as she clung to me, her arms wrapped tight around my shoulders.
For a moment, we just sat there, her body still wrapped around mine, her head resting against my chest, her breathing slow and steady. The car was hot as hell now, windows fogged up, the scent of sex and sweat thick in the air, but I didn't move. I wasn't ready to let her go yet. I ran a hand down her bare back, my fingers tracing lazy circles against her warm skin. "I love you, Chiana," I mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She didn't say anything, just made a small, sleepy sound, her fingers lightly gripping my chest. I hesitated for a second, my heart pounding, before I finally said it. "I want you to marry me."
I held her tightly, waiting for her to react, waiting to feel her body tense up, waiting for her to say something—anything. But instead—her light snores filled the car. I smirked, shaking my head as I rubbed my thumb across her bare thigh, pulling her even closer. "Of course you knock out before hearin me huh?" I whispered, chuckling to myself. I tilted my head back against the seat, watching her sleep, knowing that no matter what—this was mine.
CHIANA
I sat in my office, staring out the window, watching the cars pass by, my phone pressed to my ear as I listened to Nia's breathless, half-whispered confession. "Girl, why the hell Nash pulled up outside my house?" she started, her voice low but full of amusement. I could hear her shuffling around in the background, probably cleaning up or washing. "Call me out to the car, we talking and whatnot... next thing I know, we end up in this nigga's backseat." I leaned forward, my eyes widening. "Nia, stop playin'."
"I ain't playin'," she said, a satisfied sigh slipping out. "Girl, I fucked that man. Fucked him good, too. Kids in the house sleep and all." My mouth fell open. "Nia, you did NOT."
"Oh, I did. Fucked his ass to death in the backseat of that Audi. Don't even know if it was 'cause I was horny or 'cause I just needed to get some shit off, but nawl... it was get-back forreal." I threw my head back, laughing, gripping my stomach. This girl was so damn unserious. "Oh, you are bold, bitch. I know you not out here cheating with the hometown crush."
"Girl, don't even say it like that!" Nia laughed, but there was something dangerous in her tone. "Jules BEEN cheating. I just evened the score. Call it reparations." I shook my head, still trying to process this messy-ass situation. "You better keep that shit to yourself. Your husband gon' go manic if he finds out. “Nia smacked her lips loudly. "That's the crazy part. After I get out the shower, post-Nash dickin' me down and all, I walk out, and who the fuck is sitting in my damn living room?" My stomach dropped. "Your husband?"
"Mhm." I could hear the smirk in her voice. "Begging. Pleading. Tryna talk. Looking pitiful as hell." I could picture it clear as day—Jules standing in her house, looking desperate as fuck, probably smelling like a glass of Hennessy. "What you do?" I asked, even though I already knew Nia wasn't tryna hear none of that shit. "Girl, I went straight in my room, locked the door, and went to sleep." That did it. I laughed loudly. "Oh, you are ruthless!"
"And he gon' stay begging, too." Nia said, completely unbothered. "Told his ass a long time ago—don't play with me. 'Cause when I play back, I play harder." I shook my head, grinning hard as hell at Nia's mess. “Enough about my fucked-up life," Nia said, her voice light but tired. "My brother-in-law tell you where he taking you yet for your birthday? “I smirked, leaning back in my chair. My birthday was a little over a month away, and Juste still hadn't told me shit about where we were going. At this point, I didn't even care. I was just ready to be wrapped up in him, away from reality.
"No, he won't tell me," I admitted, gathering the stack of papers on my desk to get ready to leave. I had only stopped by to grab something for the upcoming week, but with it being Sunday and the office technically closed, I found myself sitting at my desk, caught up in this conversation with Nia longer than I should've been. "Hmm," Nia dragged the word out, like she was thinking of ways to get it out of him. "Y'all coming to Evie and Saint's for dinner tonight?" I exhaled dramatically. "Unfortunately, yes. I'll be drunk or high before I get there. I can't deal with that lady."
Nia let out a knowing chuckle. "Girl, you and me both." She was in the middle of saying something else when my attention snapped to movement outside. Through the window, I saw a blacked-out Escalade pull up to the curb. The windows were so dark I couldn't see a thing inside. But then the driver's door swung open, and I frowned instantly. Maseon. Dressed in dark grey, his usual swagger in his step, looking good as he always did—but that wasn't the issue. I didn't know what the fuck he was doing here. Juste had made it clear that Maseon was not to be around me.
I sat up straighter, my stomach tightening. "Nia, let me call you back," I muttered, my voice already shifting. I didn't even wait for her response before hanging up, setting my phone face down on my desk.
Maseon pushed through the entrance of my building, the automatic glass doors sliding open like they were welcoming him in. He moved with too much ease, too much comfort, like he belonged here. But he didn't. I squared my shoulders as he approached my office, my eyes cold, calculating. "What up, Mase ?" I asked before he could even open his mouth. He smirked, that signature cocky, amused look playing on his face like I was his favorite game to play.
"Damn, Ana," he drawled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "That how you greet an old friend?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "We ain't friends. You know that. And you damn sure know you got no business being here." His smirk widened, but there was something sharp in his gaze. Something unspoken. "Just wanted to talk. Ain't nothing wrong with that, right?" I didn't trust that for a second. My pulse ticked up, but I kept my face cool, unreadable. I wasn't stupid. Nothing about Maseon showing up here unannounced was a coincidence. And if Juste found out, Shit was gonna get ugly.
I adjusted my bag on my shoulder, glancing at the time on my phone. "You got about two minutes, 'cause I'm headed out the door."
Maseon smirked, completely unbothered. "I got a business opportunity for you." I rolled my eyes so hard I damn near saw the back of my skull. "I'm good." I stuffed the last of my files into my bag, not even looking at him. But he kept going. "My boss out in Texas? He lookin' to migrate this way. Needs an accountant to handle a few things before his move. Good money, Ana. "I paused mid-motion, finally looking up at him, frowning hard. Hell no.
I wasn't about to get tangled up in whatever shady shit Maseon had going on. Trouble followed him like flies on shit. "Thank you for thinking of me, but I'm not taking new clients at the moment, Mase." My tone was final, clipped, letting him know the conversation was over. I turned toward the door, making it real clear I was done here. But before I could reach it, his hand clamped around my arm. The fuck? I snatched back, but his grip was tight, fingers digging into my skin. "Mase, get your fuck—"
"Shhh," he cut me off, his voice low, calm, and entirely too bold. "My boss, Ana? 'No' ain't an option. You already in with the St. Jeans. This shit is literally no different." I damn near saw red. My face twisted into the ugliest frown, and I knew he saw it because the smug-ass smirk on his face only grew.
I took a slow, deep breath, forcing myself not to pop off too quick. "Maseon, get your filthy, dick-beating ass hands off me. Have you lost your goddamn mind?" His grip tightened for half a second, his jaw clenching like he was considering pressing his luck. But then, finally, he let me go, the smirk still on his face like he was enjoying this shit.
And then, he went left. "Mmm," he dragged out, tilting his head like he was reminiscing. "That boy Juste know how filthy that pretty lil' mouth get? How filthy you get?" He chuckled, running his tongue over his teeth. "Tell me, Ana, that nigga make you climb walls? I remember how you used to cu—" That was it. I turned fully to him, arms crossed, my own smirk creeping onto my lips.
"Maseon," I said slowly, making sure every single word cut him. "Juste makes me climb the goddamn ceiling in that big ass house. And he loves how filthy my pretty little mouth gets when he fills up the back of my throat." I watched his jaw flex, nostrils flaring, as that smirk of his disappeared instantly. Yeah. Now he was mad. Good. "Now," I continued, my voice even, smug, throwing his own shit back at him. "You can get the fuck out, Maseon." His hands clenched, his face hard, but he didn't say shit else. He just turned and left. The second that door closed behind him, I exhaled slowly, rolling the tension out of my shoulders.
I drove home, gripping the steering wheel a little too tight, the tension from earlier still buzzing in my veins. Maseon was a bold-ass nigga, I'd give him that. But he was also stupid as hell. I wasn't about to let him pull me into whatever messy-ass, dangerous-ass business he was trying to dangle in my face. Juste would kill him. Literally and I wasn't even exaggerating.
I exhaled deeply, shaking my head, trying to push that whole encounter out of my mind. I needed to focus on getting ready for this Sunday dinner bullshit. The moment I pulled into the driveway, I noticed Juste's car already parked out front. He was home. I cut the engine, grabbed my purse, and made my way inside. The second I stepped in, I heard his voice. He was in his office, talking loud on the phone, his tone edged with frustration and finality. "Man, I don't give a fuck about none of that. don't call me until it's done. Let the mayor in Thiloux know he can have me an answer by Thursday, if not I’ll pull up on Friday." I paused for a second, standing near the stairs, watching him through the cracked office door. He was leaning against his desk, one hand gripping his phone, the other running over his low-cut waves. His suit jacket was thrown over the chair, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top.
He looked stressed, but good as hell at the same time. His eyes flicked up and landed on me. I Just lifted a brow and kept walking toward the bedroom. If he was busy, he'd come find me when he wasn't. I kicked off my shoes and went straight for the closet, grabbing the Jeans and a body suit I'd picked out for the night. Something simple. I had just pulled down my pants when I heard heavy footsteps approaching. Before I could even turn around, warm, strong hands were gripping my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest. I smirked. "You gon' say something?" I teased, still facing the closet. Juste's lips brushed the side of my neck, his voice low, gravelly. "I got a lot on my mind, baeeby." I turned in his arms, looking up at him, searching his face. I could see it all in his eyes—he was still heated. Whatever the fuck that phone call was about had him on edge. I ran my hands up his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt. "You good?" He exhaled through his nose, jaw flexing. "I will be."
Translation: He wasn't trying to talk about it. I nodded, pressing up on my toes to kiss him lightly. "You hungry?" He smirked, eyes darkening. "You offering somethin' else before dinner?" I laughed, shoving his chest. "Boy, get out. I gotta get dressed." He smacked my ass lightly as he backed away. "I'll be waiting downstairs." I turned back to the closet, shaking my head with a smirk.
_
By the time we pulled up to Ms. Evie and Saint's house, everyone was already there. We were the last to arrive. I wasn't surprised. Juste had taken his sweet time getting out of the house, claiming he wasn't in a rush to be around "all that extra shit" tonight. I hadn't even argued. Not because I liked being late, but because something in the air already felt off. And the second we stepped inside, I knew I wasn't tripping. The usual noise—loud talking, laughter, Evie's sharp ass mouth popping off about something—was damn near nonexistent. Instead, there was a thick, quiet tension sitting heavy in the air. I glanced around, taking quick inventory of the room.
Ms. Evie was quiet. Too quiet. She sat at the head of the table, her usual glass of red wine in front of her, swirling it around in slow circles like she was deep in thought. That wasn't like her at all. Pierre and Noles were seated next to each other, locked in some low conversation. Pierre looked bothered, rubbing the back of his neck like something was frustrating the hell out of him. Nia was posted up with the kids wedged between her and Jules, putting as much space between them as possible. I knew what that was about.
