Page 8 of Blake University HBCU Chronicles: Nuri & Silas
The Morning After…
T he sound of running water whispered through the bedroom, soft but steady, like it was calling her.
Nuri stirred from the kind of sleep that didn’t come often.
The kind that pulled you in deep, made your body forget its weight.
The kind that came after getting your soul stroked and your body handled.
She lay there wrapped in Egyptian cotton and sin, still tasting Silas on her tongue, still feeling him deep in places he’d touched the night before. She’d fucked her psychology professor.
Fine ass, mysterious, Professor Silas Sullivan…
Truth be told…She didn’t regret shit. It was indeed a wild night that Nuri wouldn't mind reliving.
Everything about Silas was forbidden, but that element alone made Nuri want him more.
Perhaps she would have been able to maintain without him had she never experienced him, but now that she had, there was no turning back.
She was in too deep. She blinked at the ceiling, head resting against a pillow that smelled like cologne and contentment, and processed the wild, beautiful truth of what had happened.
His scent lingered in the air, the scent of him still clung to the expensive linens tangled around her legs.
Something on the inside of her tugged for her to move in his direction.
She stretched her arms above her head, let the sheet slip down to her waist, nipples still tight from the chill in the room—or maybe from the memory of his mouth.
Chris Brown's No Interruptions spilled tastefully from the house speakers—every lyric crawled across her skin like it had been placed there for her and her alone.
She moved on instinct, body still loose from the night before, and her muscles tender in the best way.
Her hips swayed to the music, her confidence loud in her bare skin.
She danced her way across the hardwood floor, her personality on full display.
She entered the bathroom like the woman she was—bold in a soft kind of way, and lit from the inside.
Silas stood under the stream of the shower, shoulders wide, muscles dripping, smirk deep. He watched her like he already knew she was coming. Like she belonged there.
“Good morning, handsome,” Nuri greeted, her voice soft, but laced with something that sounded like ownership.
She didn’t wait for an invitation—just reached for the cloth he’d just finished using, filled it with sensitive Dove soap, and began working the lather across her skin like she had no audience.
Silas chuckled, eyes dark, amused.
“Good mornin’, love. How you feelin’?” Silas asked, removing the towel from her hand so he could do it for her.
"Oh, you don't have to do that."
"You gon' find out real quick,” he cut in, voice steady, eyes locked.
“that when you wit' me, I'ma do what the fuck I wanna do," he told her.
"Right now, I wanna wash your body from head to toe…
then wash ya hair when I finish," Silas rasped, boring deep into her eyes, creating an intensity so great, Nuri came accidentally.
He didn’t raise his voice, but the way he said it like it was law and her body belonged to him did something to her. Nuri held his gaze, and that’s when it happened. Without touch, without warning, just from the intensity in his stare alone—her body responded. It was soft. Quick. Unexpected.
“Ohh…Ssss,” A low gasp left her lips before she could catch it.
Silas smiled like his mission was accomplished.
Fresh out of the shower and feeling like paradise, Nuri stepped into the bedroom with her hair wrapped in a towel, droplets of water still sliding down her spine.
The scent of Dove Sensitive body wash lingered on her skin.
Everything about her felt brand new. Silas walked beside her, towel hanging low on his hips, chest glistening.
Nuri couldn't peel her eyes away from the lion tatted on Silas' chest. Nuri couldn’t stop staring.
That chest.
That ink.
That man.
He caught her watching and smirked, cocky with ease, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“I ordered you something to eat while you were sleep,” Silas said, walking across the room and snatching his phone off the dresser. “And something to wear. If it don’t fit right, I’ll get you another size.”
Nuri blinked dramatically twice. “Wait… What? How’d you know my size?
Silas looked at her like the answer was obvious.
“Easy work. I looked at the tags on the clothes I peeled off yo’ fine ass last night.”
Her mouth parted, and the blush came before she could stop it. This nigga got jokes, and applying pressure at the same time. She was too busy dancing when she woke up to recognize the outfit that was laid on the back of the couch that was situated across the room.
"Thank you," Nuri said, strutting across the room to see all that Silas had purchased for her.
Silas was mesmerized by Nuri's thick, toned thighs, and that ass she effortlessly carried around.
Nuri glanced toward the couch across the room and finally noticed the laid-out outfit she’d been too distracted to see earlier—denim high-waist jeans and a custom bandeau top iced out in crystals.
Lined up next to it lay a big bottle of Baccarat Rouge 540 , the matching body butter, Cashmere Mist deodorant , a shiny tube of Fenty gloss, and a sleek pair of Chanel sunglasses.
Every detail screamed ‘I pay attention.’
Nuri strutted over, her hips swayed softly, as Silas followed her with his eyes like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at.
And that ass was a fucking statement…He could watch it for life.
“Wow, Silas?—”
“Call me Si’, like you did last night.”
She laughed and shook her head. “This man.”
He stepped closer, voice deep and smooth as wine.
“Mhm. This man is a real ass man. What I look like bringing you to my crib and not takin’ care of you?
” He licked his bottom lip. “Shit, we not even gon’ talk about the things I did to you last night…
or the way I own that pussy now. This? This was the least I could do.
Best believe I plan on doing a lot more. ”
Nuri was speechless.
Not because she didn’t have words, but because she’d never had a man say some shit that real with his chest and mean it.
Silas didn’t just talk, he backed his words up with presence. He stepped in behind her, pulling the towel gently off her hair and tossing it to the side.
“We gotta keep it low for now until I figure this shit out,” he told her, voice low, but heavy with certainty. “Just know… I ain’t just tryna fuck. I’m tryna make you mine.”
She turned to look at him, eyes calm, lips parted. “You got a way with words, Si’.”
He shook his head, and leaned down until they were eye to eye. “Words don't mean shit with no actions to solidify them.”
Then just like that, he dropped to one knee. Not with a ring—with intention. He reached for the Baccarat body butter and opened it slowly, dipping his fingers into the jar like he was about to apply it to a muthafuckin’ work of art.
“I got this for you ,” he said.
Nuri sat on the edge of the ottoman, legs spread slightly, with only a towel wrapped around her top half. Silas started with her calves, massaging the butter into her skin like she was made of gold. His touch was slow and in circular motions. He didn’t rush a single moment.
“You soft as hell,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than her.
She chuckled, smoothing her hand over his deep, ocean waves.
“You do this with all your students, Professor?”
He looked up with a smirk.
“Theirs only been one woman that was able to fuck around and take over my mind like you did.”
Speechless again…The tension was so thick it could be bottled and sold.
Two Hours Later…
Nuri was still glowing when she left. Outfit hugging every curve.
Skin soft. Energy still carrying the aftershocks of a night that rewired something in her.
She didn’t even try to mask the satisfaction in her walk.
That was the thing—when a man touched your mind before he touched your body, everything else fell in place naturally.
Silas stood in the doorway shirtless, arms crossed, watching Nuri back out slow.
Beyond the kiss he’d given her before she left, he gave her something heavier.
His word to attend the upcoming block party even if he didn’t stay the whole time.
They’d had breakfast together, seated at the bar in his open-concept kitchen while his chef moved in silence behind the scenes.
She wasn’t just a good night.
She was starting to feel like a good choice.
Twan had brought the keys back after Silas had fucked her into oblivion.
He’d been on Silas’ payroll for years, and was always sharp, and didn’t speak unless spoken to.
He’d shot Silas a text to let him know he was there, handed the keys off, confirmed the car was clean, then left without any further questions.
The chiming of Silas’ phone yanked him from his thoughts. As soon as he picked up his phone, Memphis’ name was lit up on his screen along with a picture from his thirtieth birthday..
“Yuh! What’s good, fam?” Silas answered.
"Not shit,” Memphis said casually. “What’s good with you?”
"Shit, from the looks of it, you had a good night."
Silas chuckled, thinking of the night he’d just had. “Hell yea, my night was lovely.”
He revealed, knowing that what he said would remain between them.
No details.
Just energy.
But Memphis didn’t bite, didn’t even play around with the moment. “Yuh… I can tell. But I gotta tell you some shit you not gon’ like.”
Silas didn’t miss the seriousness laced in his boy's voice, he became silent. He sat down at the edge of the kitchen bar, and rested his elbows on the granite countertops. He got quiet, but Memphis understood that meant to continue.