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She was hiding again, avoiding my question. She did that a lot, kept parts of herself quiet and locked away. I hated that shit. I wanted—needed—to know everything about her, wanted her open to me in ways that never even mattered with another woman. But I wasn't ready to think too much about that, so I kissed her, my strokes picking up pace between her soft thighs.
I broke away long enough to cup her face and direct her gaze to mine.
"It was never optional, love."
* * *
My pretty little thickums didn't know what to do with herself. I had her all off her square and I loved the shit. I'd held her as she slept again, refusing to give her the space she'd tried to put between us. When I joined her in the shower, she almost died—she wasn’t ashamed of her body, but she only showered alone. And when I knelt and pulled her plush leg over my shoulder and pushed my face into her center, I'm pretty sure she did pass on for a minute.
She climbed into my car after we dressed—Moms had always taught us to carry an emergency overnight bag and I was grateful. She was quiet, her hand clutching her purse so tightly, I thought she was going to break a nail. And if she thought she was tense now... I looked over at her and smiled.
"What?" she asked after a few seconds, her gaze still straight out the windshield.
"Relax, girl. You in good hands."
She pursed her lips, but she released that chokehold on her bag. Her anxiety was not surprising. I’d known since the first night I met her that she had no intention of us spending nights together. I hadn’t had an issue with it, at first. Hell, I’d appreciated it. But spending time with her over the last year and some change left me feeling like I didn’t want to leave her plenty of nights. Still, I’d been patient, hadn’t pressed the issue before.
My patience had run out.
(Fifteen monthsearlier)
I loved ass and titties as much as the next red-blooded, heterosexual man. I really did. And God knew, the flesh on display at The Bleu Wave was prime—tight, oiled, and flawless. This was the premier strip club in the city. These chicks had the best bodies that money could buy. I’d had firm asses on my lap and firm titties in my face for most of the night.
And I was bored as fuck. I looked over at Targen who looked no more excited than I did. At this point, I was more interested in identifying the exotic fish swimming in the walls made of aquariums than another lap dance. But we were celebrating closing a business deal with Russell Moore, who sold us the lucrative property. It was zoned for residential use and Targen and I already had the plans for an exclusive, ultra-luxe condo project in the works.
"Real, you need something else? Whatever you want, order it and put it on my tab," Russell invited, speaking to be heard over the music, although the dampers up here did a good job.
I shook my head as I stood. "Nah, I'm good."
Walking over to the edge of the section, I peered over the frosted glass railing at the first floor. A sleek, mocha body undulated on the center stage, performing Olympic level moves with the help of the floor to ceiling pole. I watched, impressed by her flexibility but feeling nothing else. Then, a flash of orange caught my eye. It was the color of fabric that had been woven into a body-hugging, sleeveless dress wrapped around the figure of a woman who was unbelievably stacked. I blinked in amazement, my interest stirring for the first time that night as I took her in. She was extra-thick and even with her back to me, I could see the classic, coke bottle shape outlined by the dress. Her hair was pulled up into a tight, neat bun, revealing the graceful lines of her neck and I had the sudden urge to see her face. I knew instinctively that she was gorgeous. Almost without thinking, I started to walk toward the stairs. Targen was on me in a second.
"Still good?" he asked.
I nodded. "Be right back. Something caught my eye."
"Yeah, all right!"
He chuckled but went back to his seat as I made my descent. She'd been walking to the bar, and it didn't take me long to find her. The orange of her dress wasn't loud, but combined with her shape, it stood out. I walked up just as some guy was eyeballing her and sliding up toward her. I tapped his shoulder then shook my head when he looked at me.
This you?he mouthed. I nodded. Hell, he didn't know, and I didn't want to have to lay his ass out. He threw up both hands and stepped back. I eased behind her just as the bartender walked away from taking her order. She turned slightly so I could see her face in profile. Beautiful as fuck. I knew it! I needed her to turn all the way around. I opened my mouth, but she spoke first.
"You gon' get the same answer he was about to get," she said in a voice coated in southern lyricism.
I couldn't help my smile. "Oh, yeah?"
She shifted to face me. For the first time in my life, I understood why people were called stunning. I definitely felt like someone had shocked the fuck out of me as I got my first full glimpse of her. She was beautiful on some level I'd never seen. Thickly-lashed, up-tilted eyes stared up at me, set above a pretty little nose and a luscious mouth twisted into a smirk. Even in the play of the club's lights, I could see the glow of her honey-gold skin, its velvety, unblemished texture making me want to touch her everywhere with my hands and my mouth. I was close enough that I could distinguish how good she smelled. I couldn't wait to see if she tasted just as mouthwatering.
"Yeah."
The word caught my attention. I let my eyes scan her again before I smiled.
"I can promise you that your response to any other man will never be the same as your response to me, love."
Her head tilted to the side as she studied me.
"Arrogant," she said finally.
"Confident," I corrected. "Now, what did you think your response would be?"