Page 20 of Beacon Grove Chronicles 1: Hassan & Sylvia

“Can you fix me a Prism over ice please?” I needed her to give me and Sylvia a minute especially since she had her body angled away from mine like I was on her nerves.

A glance at Sylvia for approval stopped her immediate progress. After she saw I truly wasn’t a threat, she nodded at me and turned to fix my drink at the marble, glass and brass bar. The shelves were fully stocked and I knew there was a hidden cache of moonshine somewhere back there for the old heads.

Turning my attention to Sylvia who was still trying to ignore me, I eased into her space before leaning over and speaking close to her ear.

“Is that the way to greet a nigga you got ghost on?”

Those pretty round browns narrowed further and I was again stuck at the way she was handling me. Her hand went to her chest bringing my eyes with it. My thoughts strayed back to the night where her legs were wrapped around me and my lips were sucking on her nipples bringing them to stiff peaks as she rained down on my dick. Those magnificent fuck faces were engrained in my memory and threatening to distract me now.

“I was the ghost? I remember being the one who woke up alone.” The aggressive tone in voice prompted me to focus back on her face and I saw the joy was gone and was replaced with a scowl.

My arms propped against the bar because she wasn’t wrong. But I had a good reason. “I left my card so you had all my shit. You never hit me up.”

The bartender sat down my drink and I gave her my information to start a tab and put Sylvia’s drinks on it as well. Sylvia huffed and picked up her glass from the where it rest on a napkin after the bartender left.

“Well, it was impersonal as shit and I wasn’t sure I could afford your services.”

I paused only for a second cause I knew Dave was a bitch nigga but having him killed didn’t seem like her thing. And I knew Smoke and his girl had been in and out of the Grove for the last two years but I knew he wouldn’t let it slip what we were into. So what the hell was she talking about?

“My services?” The blue silk crew neck shirt I was wearing suddenly felt tight and I wondered how I could talk my way out this.

“Yeah, I’m assuming since you dropped dick and then an impersonal ass business card that the dick was the business.” She looked me up and down with disdain before going back to her drink.

“Wait, you think I’m a ho’?” Laughing wasn’t the direction I wanted to go in but I couldn’t help but smile. That earned me another scowl but she hadn’t realized how she’d just complimented my ass.

Sylvia shrugged before tossing her drink back. “I won’t knock it. It’s a good business model. Give your clients a free sample and then hit them over the head with the price once they’re hooked. Drug dealers have been doing that shit for years.”

“You think I gotta sling free dick to earn a living? Do you remember who I am?” She didn’t really know everything about me but what she did know meant she knew I wasn’t hurting for money. I was secretive about my damn job but nothing about what I told her gave off I was slanging dick for a living.

She was married to a ho’, Hassan. Maybe that nigga Dave finally started charging his bitches.

“Do you normally do it for free and decided to charge after the night we had together?”

It was my turn for my eyes to narrow because she was dragging it. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?” She was cleared offended by either my language or my attitude and I wasn’t about to give a fuck. Whatever confidence had been fucked into her the last night we were together had clearly evaporated the second she washed my nut out of her. I leaned over with one hand braced against the back of her barstool so she understood I wasn’t fucking playing with her. Her eyes quickly took in my face and I saw the way her pulse thumped in her neck.

“You acted like being with you was on some charity shit. Wasn’t nothing about that night we spent together a pity fuck. So if you’ve convinced yourself of that shit since I’ve been gone you need to stop it.”

“Stop it? Are you trying to boss me around?” Her words held less anger than they did when I first sat down but like I told her two years ago, full submission was what I was looking for.

“You need a reminder of how well you submit your body to mine, Sisi?” I couldn’t help the way my tone lowered or my hand gravitated to the exposed flesh of her thigh stroking the skin there just long enough to see the goosebumps appear.

Her lips pressed together almost as tightly as her thighs and I knew she was battling with herself. That at least I’d made enough of an impression on her that she remembered how good I felt after this long. I’d for damn sure been lost over her ass, which had led me to deciding I had to get back to her.

Shit was crazy.

I never thought I’d have been on some puppy love shit with Sisi but it was impossible to ignore. She was clearly my one that got away and I wasn’t about to let that shit happen for a third time. If only I could convince her ass not to shoot me.

“We not doing that.”

The sharpness of her voice stilled my hand, “Doing what?”

“Doing whatever fuckboy routine y’all niggas got taught in high school on how to fuck women over. Let me guess, Coach T was the one who trained all of y’all on how to be dogs? I should’ve known better than to get with the high school gym teacher. They’re all dogs.”

“First of all, don’t ever compare me to Coach T or the weak nigga you married. That’s my fault for having to leave so we never got the chance to see how real our shit was back then but clearly something is still there.” I sat back in my seat but kept my body close enough to hers so we had contact.

“Yeah. We fucked. That’s about it. Why you seem to want to make this a bigger deal that it is concerns me.” She was being dismissive but I could read between the lines of her words.