Page 20 of Cause When You Love Someone

With only a few minutes to finish getting myself together, I switched my ID, lipstick, and key fob to a red Jimmy Choo Callie clutch, then pranced to the living room.

A soft knock on the front door triggered a smile to overpower my face. I checked the security camera to ensure a knight was at my door instead of a frog before tugging it open.

I had no consideration for my fresh lipstick when I swept my tongue across my lips. “Damn, you’re fine.”

“You love to make me blush. These are for you.” He ushered a bouquet of red roses into my hands. “Before you say anything, those are chocolates, not flowers.”

My heart did a pirouette. “Aww. You remembered what I said about flowers. Let me go put these in the fridge, then we can go wherever we’re going since you won’t give many details.”

Our small talk comforted me as we made our way downstairs, but my pulse surged when Ishmael guided me to a big-body Maybach. Don’t get me wrong; I had been in plenty of luxury vehicles. The difference was knowing Ishmael arranged for us to ride in style.

“Pretty lady, I know you’re not crying over this car. You’re always riding in some expensive shit.”

I nodded. “True, but I purchased them for myself. You set this up for me. For us.”

Ishmael removed the handkerchief from his tuxedo pocket and softly dabbed the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’m not messing up your makeup,” he commented. “I’m happy to know I can make a woman who has everything smile about something.”

“I don’t have everything. The more time I spend with you, I realize how much I’ve been missing.”

Ishmael helped me into the spacious back seat, and the partition was the first thing that caught my attention. Naughty ideas came to mind, but I knew my greedy pussy would have to wait until later.

“How long is our ride?” I wondered aloud.

Ishmael peered down at his phone. “About forty minutes, so sit back in that pretty ass gown and enjoy.”

“Mm. I would rather pick your brain.”

“All right. I’ll shoot first,” he replied. “Do you want kids?”

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.” I shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind having a family of my own. Then again, I’m disturbed at the notion that I’ll be too much like my own mother.”

“You aren’t that type of woman. You won’t be that type of mother.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been watching you.”

A second of silence passed before it was crammed with our laughter.

“That shit sounded creepy,” he suggested.

“A little, but I’ve grown to love it. Do you want kids?” I asked, putting the focus on him.

“I do. I want a big family, a wife, and all.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t have that already. You’ve been solid since we met.”

“I’ve made mistakes.”

The switch in his demeanor caused my muscles to shift under my skin.

“Things that would make me look at you differently?” I asked.

“Things I wouldn’t do again. I’ve had the opportunity to make the mistake again and again, but I didn’t slip. I learned that once you add accelerant to a flame, you become as at fault as the person who started the fire.”

Not once did Ishmael look away as he spoke. There was nothing except sincerity in his delivery. After being with a manipulator for years, I trusted myself enough to be able to spot the bullshit.

We pulled up to our location, and my mouth dropped open. The scene looked like a movie premiere, occupied by flashing lights, photographers, and fans. My eyes ascended to the marquee, and the words in place nearly stole my breath.

I couldn’t speak when I faced Ishmael, so I jumped into his arms and squeezed him like a lover being reunited with their soulmate.

“Did I do good?”

“Beyond! I haven’t been to a ballet in years! They’re so far and few on the West Coast.”

“Who you tellin’? Ivy’s Thorns only comes to the Opera House twice a year. This is the last show.”

Overcome with emotions, I chose to hush instead of risking the chance of dropping more happy tears.

The sound of cheers from the crowd met us at the curb when our driver opened the door.

Never one to shy away from a photoshoot, I strutted down the red carpet with a tight grip on Ishmael’s hand.

He whispered something about giving me space to shine, but I ignored him.

I used his hand as a prop and posed for the flashing cameras like a pro.

A few photographers tried their luck and asked about Ishmael, and that was my cue to cut the photoshoot short.

Once we entered the Opera House, an usher escorted us to box seats. In awe, I marveled at the intricate ceiling design and the velvet fabric lining the walls. I never believed Ishmael was broke; then again, I didn’t know he was in a position to spend five figures on a date.

“I’m really trying not to scream. You outdid yourself, Superman.”

“I like hearing you say that.” He rubbed his thumb from the base of my neck to my exposed cleavage. “I really wouldn’t mind hearing you say it for . . . a while.”

“You call me spoiled, then say something like that.”

“I guess I’m your enabler.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip, taking in the smell of his minty exhale. “It sounds like you’re trying to be my man.”

“You think you’re ready for that?” I rolled my eyes, instantly reminded of what Simone said in her message. “Don’t get defensive because I questioned you. If you believe it, stand on it.”

“Don’t you feel how much I want you when you’re inside of me?”

A luring smirk ambushed his face as he said, “I do. I would actually?—”

The curtains went up, silencing whatever wicked comment he was prepared to utter.

For the next hour and a half, I sat on the edge of my seat, sipping wine and whispering to Ishmael.

I felt bad when I realized I kept talking during the performance, but I couldn’t stop.

The dancer in me raved about every Russian fouetté and leap.

I held my breath when the performers completed stunts that I had only attempted.

Even the love story that moved the show along almost drove me to tears.

By the time we made it back outside, the crowd had settled, making it easier to get to our car without a scene.

About ten minutes in our ride, I still stared into space replaying the show and planning out one of my own in my head.

Inspired more than ever, I knew I made the right decision get back into an art form I loved.

“Baby girl,” Ishmael called out to me once we were back in the car.

I snickered, seeing his head fall back. I asked him to drink with me during the show, but I didn’t think he had that much.

“Lightweight. We only had wine,” I muttered.

“There ain’t nothing lightweight about me, woman.”

“Oh. You’re tipsy and talking shit.”

I kicked off my heels then pressed a button to roll up the partition, blocking the driver’s view of us.

“Bad girl.” Ishmael reached out and tugged on the bottom of my high-knee stockings. “You are sexy as fuck. Come here.”

I entered his personal space, prepared to swallow him whole, but Ishmael made me take his seat.

Our eyes remained latched together while Ishmael removed his jacket, then undid the first few buttons on his white button-up. All that talk about rocking exaggerated pieces went out the window when they kept Ishmael’s warm touch away from my skin.

“You have to be quiet,” he muttered as he bunched my dress above my waist. “Can you do that for me, Clarke?”

“Yes,” I moaned. “I can be . . . quiet.”

My words guided the hungry man between my legs, but instead of licking me, he nibbled on the inside of my thighs. Since the first time he ate my pussy, I noticed Ishmael got a kick out of making me beg.

“Ishmael. Please, baby.”

“Please what, mama?”

“You know. You know what I want, Ishmael.” I groaned and cupped my breasts. “You are such a tease.”

A one-sided smirk shifted his lips while he rubbed his thumb over my clit. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Fuck. That.” I grabbed the back of his head and ushered his face to the puddle between my thighs. My dominant behavior only seemed to entice my greedy lover. He didn’t pull away when I forced him close. Ishmael got comfortable and feasted on me.

With me sitting upright, I had the perfect view of his long, pink tongue making circles around my hard clit. The sight triggered my teeth to grab hold of my bottom lip, but my cries for him to slip his finger in one of my holes still cut through.

As I rode his tongue, Ishmael snaked his hand up my midsection.

He took a few seconds to strum my nipples, but his hand didn’t stop until it reached my neck.

When his fingernails softly ran against my flesh, I guided his thumb into my mouth.

Hard and slow, I sucked on Ishmael until an ache in my gut pried my mouth wide open.

On the brink of an orgasm, my head dropped back, but my moment in paradise came to a halt when Ishmael left me hanging.

“Baby, what the hell?” I whined.

Ishmael didn’t offer an explanation as he unzipped his pants, then sat in the seat beside me.

There wasn’t anything to say once he took hold of my waist and placed me on his hard on.

The sensation of our bodies colliding conjured a deep moan from Ishmael.

The need to taste him made me part his mouth open with my tongue.

“You taste your pussy on my tongue. You taste good, huh?” He requested to know while squeezing my ass cheeks together and rocking my wet spot back and forth against his pelvis. “Let me hear you say it.”

“My pussy tastes good, but your dick feels better,” I whispered while stroking the back of his head. “I can feel myself leaking all over you.”

Ishmael sank his teeth into my shoulder, sending a tremble through my core. I was so wrapped up in our moment that I forgot we were in a car until I caught the vision of passing cars out of the corner of my eyes.

“Ish. Baby. I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Then let that shit go,” he demanded. “Let me feel that gripper squeeze the nut out of me.”

I nibbled on his chin when his head fell back. “Only if you say it’s mine. Tell me it’s mine, Ish.”

“Everything,” he moaned. “Always. All yours, mama.”

Ishmael’s strokes shifted from fucking me to something close to lovemaking. I refused to reach my peak without him, so I squeezed my walls around the hardest part of him, summoning his moans.

“I love you, Ishmael. Baby, I love?—”

“I love you, Clarke,” fell from his lips, and triggered my orgasm. When I felt him twitch inside of me, I knew we had reached heaven together.

Though I tried to assure Ishmael he didn’t have to escort me to my door, the gentleman in him wasn’t having it.

Tipsy and all, Ishmael wrapped his long arms around my body and guided me to the elevator.

On the way up, we sang along to Jodeci playing in the elevator, then we continued our karaoke moment until we reached my front door.

“I enjoyed you, pretty lady,” Ishmael declared, pinning me against the door.

“Not too much.” I pouted. “You’re leaving me.”

“Stop acting like that. I have an early morning with Izzy.”

“Oh.” My arms fell to my side. “In that case, I understand. Lord knows if you stay, you won’t get any sleep.”

“Damn. When you put it like that, maybe?—”

“Stop it.” I giggled at his mannish behavior. “You know you won’t flake on your sister. Your word is bond. That’s one of the things I love—I mean . . . ”

“Nah, nah. It’s too late for you to take it back,” he boasted. “Get in the house, Lois Lane.”

We shared a kiss before Ishmael walked backward to the elevator, humming “Human Nature” like he was the happiest man in Silk Hills.

Butterflies danced in my belly as I floated into my place.

All I could think about was the next time I would be close to him.

I purposely avoided checking my phone since I didn’t want to read any opinions about us on the red carpet.

Just like my mom’s opinion couldn’t keep me away from Ishmael, neither could people on the internet.

“Look who finally made it home.”

Chaz’s menacing tone punctured my heart.

Like he didn’t have a care in the world, the round man sat on my kitchen island swinging his legs and smacking on pretzels.

His mangled clothes and unkept hair nearly made him unrecognizable.

Every other time we separated, Chaz had time to fuck different women in peace, but this time, he appeared frazzled.

“I don’t understand how you got in here. I changed the code on my alarm. I’m suing this fucking building.”

“Sue whoever cut your hair.” He dropped a drunk laugh at my feet. “I don’t like the new look.”

“And I don’t like you . Whatever you left over here was put in storage a week after I beat up your baby mama, and your brother has the key. There is no reason for you to be here.”

“I wanted to check on you.” His nonchalant delivery drove my eyes shut.

“Chaz, I don’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight. Get out of my house.”

“Why? So you can call that nigga back over here?”

He leaped off the counter, and for the first time, I noticed the blade in his grasp.

“When shit in the music business got slow for me, you loved to call me a broke ass cheater. Then, you go and fuck with the help. You make a big deal about me doing my thang, but you cheated on me with your bodyguard.”

“Chaz, we aren’t together, and the only reason I pressed you about fucking your baby mama is because you did it when we were supposed to be making money together. You can’t understand that?”

“I don’t understand shit!”

I pretended to be unfazed by the knife and stepped over to the couch to remove my heels. As if he wasn’t built like a linebacker, Chaz slammed me on the couch. The liquor on his breath and the fire in his eyes pissed me off.

“Chaz, let me go!”

“Fuck no! You think shit is a game.”

The same spot Ishmael christened with a kiss only minutes earlier, Chaz damaged with a knife. A stream of what I assumed was blood flowed from the cut to behind my ears.

“Chaz. You have a daughter. Don’t do this. Just leave.”

A deep scowl cut past his face before a trail of spit leaked from his lip and dropped between my eyes. Humiliated, I was more hurt by the spit than by his putting a blade through my skin.

“I told you I won’t live without you, and I meant that.” He stumbled to his feet, knocking over furniture in the process. “I got something for yo’ ass. Your name won’t be the only one in lights when this shit is all over!”