Page 13

13

Raya

I find out as soon as I walk through the door.

Jonetta barely looks up from her clipboard before saying, “Aniya’s parents want a meeting. With you. And me.”

I stop mid-step, gripping the strap of my messenger bag. “For what?”

Jonetta finally meets me eyes, her expression unreadable. “About something you said. They didn’t give me the details. But whatever it was, Aniya said she was sick the next day, which also happens to be the same day you called out sick.”

Her tone is accusatory, but her face is still neutral.

My fingers clench, nails digging into the fabric of my purse strap.

“Weird coincidence,” I say.

I don’t have time for this shit, but I really should have seen it coming.

The urge to turn and walk out the door is strong, but I need this job, at least until Ace retires me and puts me up in a big pretty house like I deserve. So I say, “Of course. I’d be happy to straighten this out.”

After I get my kids served their disgusting breakfast, I walk into the office, closing the door behind me. The moment I step inside, I feel the tension thicken the air like humidity before a storm.

Jonetta sits behind her desk, her hands clasped together on the wooden surface, mouth drawn in a firm, neutral line. She’s watching everything carefully, like a referee before the first punch is thrown.

Across from her, Aniya’s parents sit side by side with her in the middle. I take the seat on the wall next to Jonetta’s desk.

“Raya, these are Aniya’s parents, Sisco and Nevaeh.”

Sisco and Nevaeh.

I repeat it in my mind, barely managing to hold back my smirk. I only knew them as Mr. And Mrs. Hansby.

Sisco.

Sisco?

As in, “Thong Song” Sisco? But…why? Whose idea was that? And, Nevaeh? Girl. I wanna know what life is like for a black woman who was forced to share a name with every biracial born after Y2K.

I blink, shaking off the thought. My gaze shifts to Aniya, who’s sitting stiffly, arms crossed tightly, lips pressed together in a thin, straight line.

Sharp. Focused.

Not bad for a four-year-old.

Let the games begin.

I smooth my hands down my thighs, arranging my face into something resembling sincerity and concern.

“What’s this about?” I ask, tilting my head like I’m utterly confused about why we’re here.

Sisco jumps in without hesitation. “Aniya told us what you said to her.”

I hate that all I can hear is violins.

I blink, willing the song out of my head, then ask, “What did I say?”

Jonetta shifts in her chair, waiting for the answer.

Nevaeh leans forward, her manicured nails tapping against her knee. “She said you told her she should’ve been swallowed.”

That sucks all the air out of the room.

Jonetta’s a pro, so she doesn’t react outwardly, but I know she’s clutching her imaginary pearls.

I let out a soft, incredulous chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief. “Wow. That’s…” I press a hand to my chest like I’m genuinely rattled. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Aniya’s eyes narrow slightly.

She knows.

But knowing and proving are two very different things.

I shake my head again, sighing to show how hurt I am by the accusation. “I would never say something like that. Ever. It’s completely inappropriate. I wouldn’t even joke about something like that.”

Nevaeh’s lips part slightly as she reads my reaction. Sisco frowns, his brows furrowing.

“So are you saying our daughter’s lying?” she asks.

I shake my head gently, my expression softening. “I’m not saying that at all.” I keep my voice even like I’m guiding them through a missed answer. Always the patient teacher. “I just think there might’ve been a miscommunication.”

Aniya’s fingers twitch against her arm. “I know what I heard.”

I give a sympathetic look. Poor, stupid child. “Sweetheart, maybe you misunderstood. You’re a smart girl, but sometimes when we’re upset, we get confused and hear things differently than how they were meant.”

“Okay, then what did you say?” Sisco demands.

I stare at Aniya. “I honestly don’t know. I’m trying to figure out the context. When did I supposedly say this, Aniya?”

Her nostrils flare as she realizes I got her little ass. Yeah, tell your parents what you did and what you said first, you little miscreant.

“I don’t remember,” she lies. “But I know what I heard.”

I smile gently. “Well, if you can’t remember when you think you heard this—“

“I did hear it!”

Sisco and Nevaeh shift in their seats. Jonetta’s eyes dart between us, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.

Nevaeh exhales sharply, folding her arms in front of her. “I don’t see why she would make something like this up.”

“I don’t either,” I say quickly, nodding like I’m on their side. “Aniya is a bright, amazing kid. You two have obviously done a wonderful job with her. That’s why this is so confusing. If she truly believes I said that, then somewhere, something got twisted.”

Sisco looks down at his daughter, then scrubs a hand down his face. She must lie at home. A lot. He looks like he’s sick of her shit.

“So are we supposed to just let this go?” he asks Jonetta. “What do we do here?”

Jonetta sighs, her fingers pressing against her temples. “Look, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly what happened. What I do know is that Aniya is one of our best students, and Raya is one of our best teachers.”

That last part is a bold-faced lie, but I appreciate it anyway. Then I feel bad for Jonetta. She’s always been a good director. She gets on my nerves sometimes, but she’s good at her job, and this is her livelihood. She doesn’t deserve this.

Aniya’s nails dig into her arm, her eyes burning into mine. “She said it,” she insists, deliberate and unshaken.

I lean toward her, my voice dropping to a tone that’s as close to maternal as I know how to get. “I would never say anything to hurt you, Aniya.”

She doesn’t blink.

It tastes bitter on my tongue, but I say it for Jonetta’s sake.

“I’m sorry, Aniya, if you misunderstood something. I hate that you’ve been carrying that around over the last few days, thinking your teacher would say that about you. That’s awful. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

Jonetta exhales. “I think we can all agree that open communication is best moving forward.”

I nod and visibly relax my body, releasing the weight of this travesty. “Absolutely. The last thing I want is for Aniya to feel uncomfortable in my classroom. She’s such an incredible student. So bright. So inquisitive. One of my best.”

Thong Song and old girl are smiling now. Crisis averted.

I take that as my cue and stand.

Then I walk over to Aniya. I smile sweetly. Like a teacher should smile.

I hold my arms out.

She rolls her eyes.

She’s got my number.

But I got hers, too.

“Go on,” Sisco urges. “Remember your manners.”

Well, now, wait a minute, Sisco. I lowkey don’t like that. They shouldn’t make her hug me. Children shouldn’t be made to do anything physical. It has nothing to do with manners.

I drop my arms, hating him now.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Really, it is. I just hope we can put this whole thing behind us.”

I leave Jonetta to finish up, smiling brightly as I get my class started on breakfast cleanup.

I won.

I always win.

Ace summoned me in the absolute worst way.

My husband

Come over after work. I wanna talk to you about some things.

That was it. No elaboration. No context. No, “Baby, I can’t wait to see you.” Just straight to the point and deliberately vague like I'm a damn contractor at his work site.

I stared at the text for a solid ten minutes, feeling my skin crawl. Because what the hell does “talk to you about some things” even mean?

Like…I’m already ready to jump out of my own skin at 10:04 a.m. on any random Thursday. Why the fuck would he amplify that for me? Read the room, negro. Your girl is anxious. Be her fucking peace.

But then I remind myself—he doesn’t know that about me yet. I’m not sure he should ever know. Who wants to marry a basket case?

So I take a breath, put on my good-girlfriend costume, and drive over to his place after school, my nerves buzzing the whole way.

He’s smiling when he opens the door, looking like he actually wants me there. And for some odd, unfathomable reason, that bothers me even more.

I’m still irritated, but it’s like low-grade irritation, the kind that sits in the back of your head like a dull ache, and you can’t even remember what’s annoying you, everything just irks you. Like when my bra strap digs into my shoulder at the end of the day, or when the wi-fi slows down right before my favorite show loads.

Right now?

That’s his face.

Irking me.

“What’s wrong?” he says as I pass by him to enter.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

I shrug. Because what’s the point of saying anything? Everything is stupid and annoying right now. Fuck.

“Can we talk after?” I mutter.

He wraps his arms around me, his lips brushing the top of my head. And I hate it.

But I also love it.

I hate that I love it.

I melt into him—just a little. I close my eyes and exhale deeply. Damn. His effect on me is strong.

“After what?” he asks.

I pull back to look up at his dumb ass. “After we fuck.”

And just like that, an annoying, Grinch-like grin spreads across his face, and I think, my God, men are so stupid. Testosterone must be real fucking strong if this is how they act when they think they’re about to get some.

I don’t wait for his goofy ass to answer. I grab his hand and pull him behind me to the bedroom.

When we get there, we strip. It’s boring, mechanical, clothes off, bodies bare, and I’m still annoyed.

But also…I want this.

Which is new for me.

Because I don’t want this in a transactional way, for getting what I want or for shutting a man up. I truly want him .

Ace has really managed to do the impossible—he’s made me actively, consistently want sex. I savor the actual, physical experience. The pleasure of it.

If that’s not proof he’s my soulmate, I don’t know what is.

He needs to hurry up and figure that out.

He slides into me with ease, stilling his body as his mouth finds mine. He’s a good kisser, too. Not too aggressive, but not limp and gross like the last guy I fucked. Ace kisses like he wants to heal me. He can’t see my carefully hidden wounds, but it doesn’t matter. He has the remedy.

His lips move with just enough pressure to make me part mine, just enough tease to get me to lean into him, just enough patience to let me adjust to the shift in my mood.

His tongue swirls languidly and deliberately, teasing and tempting, coaxing out my irritation like a skilled masseuse rubbing tension out of muscles.

And damn if it doesn’t work.

The frustration, the restlessness, the vague irritability? It all melts into the slow, deliberate slide of his body against mine. I love the way he moves. He treats my pleasure like it’s his mission.

My breath hitches as my hands grip his back, my nails sinking into his skin like an anchor.

Suddenly, I’m not mad. I’m not annoyed.

I’m happy.

“Goddamn,” he moans just before he flips us over like I weigh nothing at all.

Disoriented, I stare down at him as I adjust my position, getting myself comfortable in my rightful place—above him.

Not that I mind getting tossed around. Ace is strong. I know because I’ve followed him to the gym before. Planet Fitness, three times a week. He has no idea I’ve watched him grunt under the weight of those barbells, sweat dripping down his chest. He doesn’t know I masturbated to the thought of him using that same strength to throw me around just like this.

So yeah, I don’t mind.

“I should have asked you before,” he says. “Are you on birth control?”

I’m not ready for this question.

I blink. My body is still buzzing. Still floating. But my mind? My mind just crash landed back to earth.

This is the first time we’ve had sex without a condom. No reason, no discussion, no planning, just a silent agreement between two people who couldn’t be bothered. And yeah, if his dumb ass was that concerned, he should have asked me that ten minutes ago.

I feel my irritation creeping back in.

Of course I’m on birth control, stupid, and do you know why? Because niggas love talking that I’ma put a baby in you shit when the sex gets good . Yeah, okay, I’ll let you cum in me for the express purpose of creating one, then suffer through nausea and throwing up and getting fat until a whole human decides to shoot out of my vagina, but not before it stretches the rest of my body beyond recognition and leaves marks that are a forever reminder that a parasite once lived in there, which, by the way, I have to raise for the next eighteen years of my life.

Boy, fuck you.

I have no desire to be somebody’s mama.

But if Ace ever wants a baby…well, I don’t see how I could turn him down, especially not after what I learned yesterday. Which reminds me… that’s why I was irritated.

But we’ll cross that sustainable bridge when we come to it.

I nod. “I’m on the pill.” It’s the truth, for once.

He exhales, relief softening his features. But then he has to ruin it, of course, sporting that goofy ass grin again, eyes wild as hell when he says, “So I can cum in you?”

I bite my lip. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

And I mean that. As annoying as he is today, this man still has me down extremely bad.

“Don’t tell me that,” he teases. “Ain’t no tellin’ what I’ma have you on.”

“I’m on whatever you’re on.”

I start to move, rolling my hips in slow, deliberate circles, watching his face closely. I like studying him, learning the things that make him feel good. Because if I know that? I own him.

He likes it slow.

His groans make me wetter. It feels even better now. I grab my breasts and squeeze, letting my eyes close, letting myself moan for him.

“Lemme do that,” he says, pushing my hands away. Before I can protest, he sits up and sucks my nipple into his mouth.

And my entire body betrays me.

My walls clench around him, so tight it makes me shudder. And it scares me. It always does.

I prefer to stay in control.

I don’t like when my body does things without my permission. Not all the time. Sometimes, very rarely, I can let go, but apparently, today isn’t one of those times.

He switches to my right nipple, and I switch my speed, grinding faster. It feels good. Ace has a big dick, let’s not get it twisted. On his worst day, he’s the best I’ve ever had. I’ll deploy that information at the optimal time. Which isn’t today. Because, again, he’s on my fucking nerves.

I’m over the nipple play. I put my hands out and push him onto his back, much harder than I mean to, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He bites his lip, eyes dark as he grips my ass so tight I cry out.

“Yeah,” he grunts. He likes my pain.

That’s fine.

I like his, too.

I haven’t hurt him, yet, but I will.

His eyes roll back, and I feel it. The tension. The slow build-up. The pulse of his dick in the deepest part of me, swelling, warning me he’s about to explode.

But, I think not.

It’s too soon.

“Fuck,” he grits. “I’m close.”

“I know,” I say, rolling my eyes. “It’s not time.”

“Then don’t fuck me like that.”

“I’ll fuck you however the fuck I want, Ace .”

He shudders, and I feel it in my bones.

Oh.

He likes when I’m mean.

That’s such a relief.

“Don’t cum, yet. I mean it.”

He groans like he’s in pain. “Baby, I can’t control it.”

“Yes, you can.”

I rake my fingers through my hair while I grind against him. So unbothered. Not a care in the world except making Ace my bitch tonight.

“You better try your best,” I warn.

He taps my thigh, but I ignore him. I don’t understand Morse code.

“Chill for a minute,” he grits.

“What does that mean?”

“Be still .”

“ No . Learn how to control your fucking dick, Ace.”

His face balls up. He grabs my hips and tries to still them, but he’s weak in this position. He can’t stop me.

“Look at me,” I demand.

His heavy-lidded eyes drag up to mine.

“You feel how wet I am?”

He nods, swallowing hard.

“Do you really wanna waste that?”

He blows out a breath so deep I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

“Don’t disappoint me, Ace. I need you to come through for me tonight.” I bounce up and down, watching his jaw clench as his fingers dig into my hips. “You can’t expect me to ride a dick like this for a few minutes. I wanna stay up here all night.”

“I can’t—“

“All night, Ace. Your dick is mine, now. It’s my toy. I wanna play with it all night. Squirt on it. Cream on it. Cum on it. Take it out and suck it, then sit on it again and—“

“Raya, stop talking. Stop fucking talking to me.”

“Boy, fuck you. I say what I want. I ride this dick when I want. And you take it like a good boy. Cuz that’s what you are.”

His eyes roll back again, then shut tight. He’s losing .

I smile and rake my fingernails down his abs, pulling another groan out of him. The most beautiful sound in the world.

“You might be the man at work, but when I’m on this dick, you ain’t shit. You hear me?”

He nods, chest heaving.

“Mmm…” I moan. “Perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Shhh…” He pants, his grip bruising me. “You gotta ease up. I can’t hold it much…longer…ahhhhhh, fuck…”

His body locks up, every muscle going taut like a drawn bowstring. He’s holding onto my hips for dear life, knuckles pale with effort. His mouth falls open, but no sound. Not at first. Just a sharp inhale, his chest expanding before it all rushes out in a hoarse, broken moan. His head tilts back, his eyes roll shut, and his brows pull together like he’s in the deepest kind of agony, the kind that feels too good to fight.

Then a shudder rips through him. I watch his abs contract, his thighs tense, his hips jerking helplessly beneath me. His fingers flex at my skin, clenching and releasing like his nervous system is misfiring, synapses sparking with no clear command. Finally, he lets go, his hands falling away, his body sinking into the bed like he’s a balloon I’ve just popped.

I watch every second of it. Honestly, it’s cinema. 10/10, would fuck again. He’s so damn sexy , and he’s mine . This is what I worked so hard for. Two long years. This is my fucking reward.

I feel like I could cum, too.

But I don’t. I just stare as his face relaxes, his mouth parted as he tries to catch his breath. A faint sheen of sweat rests on his forehead. He looks nice and relaxed. Good for him.

But I’m irritated again.

“Did you just cum?”

He laughs sheepishly. “That shit felt too good, Raya. I couldn’t hold it.”

“But I told you not to.”

His smile falters. “Yo, you serious?”

I go cold, sliding off of him to walk over to the dresser, yanking a t-shirt over my head and punching through the arm holes like I’m in a fight with it.

“I’m sorry ,” he says, his voice strained with desperation. “I didn’t think you would really trip.”

“Whatever,” I say. “Don’t say shit else to me. I’m leaving.”

His cum leaks out of my pussy and slides down my leg. His eyes follow the trail, but he doesn’t move.

“Did you hear me?” I snap a finger to catch his attention. “I’m leaving. Come walk me to my car.”

“Raya. You can’t be serious.”

I stare at him until his shoulders sag.

“You know this is some bullshit, right?”

I say nothing.

His chuckle is tinged with bitterness. “Yo, I ain’t never…something is wrong with you. For real.”

I let my gaze shift to his clothes.

“You know what? Fuck it.” He jumps out of bed and picks up his things. I resist the urge to stare at his beautiful dick. It’s hard, because, well, it’s hard . Again.

That speaks volumes.

And I like what I’m hearing.

Silently, I watch him dress. He keeps shooting me looks like he’s waiting for the punchline, but there isn’t one. Just the silent walk to my car.

“You didn’t even wanna clean up before you go?” he says, but to no avail. I’m ready to go. Nothing left to say.

He buckles me in, then closes the door, giving me sad puppy dog eyes as I pull out of the driveway.

I’m smiling by the time I get home.

That was kinda fun.