Page 7 of Giving Him Something He Can Feel

Chapter Three

Jovie

My eyes hurt because I had been staring at this damn board in front of me for hours.

I don’t know what it was missing, but it was something.

I prided myself in near perfect events so the fact that I felt like something was missing with this one irritated me.

Made me wanna pull my hair out, bite my nails to the beds and scream.

Something was off, and I couldn’t place it.

Something with this ghetto ass shindig was completely off.

Maybe it was the fact that this vision clashed with what I was used to.

No expense was spared, but it was something.

Then again maybe it was the fact this was a first. I’d never planned a shoe ball.

I always shied away from the low budget events with no real purpose.

However this one I couldn’t, the money was plentiful, and the nigga was flashy.

My phone buzzed on my desk, prompting me to turn around.

I already knew who it was, it had been him the last day and a half.

Cartier was too cool for this shit, but also the type of nigga not used to being told no.

Gotta admit that even though I longed to be the bitch telling him yes, I liked grounding his ego.

I was inclined to let the call rollover, but he would just call back. He wasn’t a good morning text type of nigga. He was a let me call you at the ass crack of dawn and have a whole ass conversation about a day that hasn’t started yet.

“Cartier it’s called stalking.” I picked the phone up putting it on speaker, before going back over to my work area.

“I’on give a fuck. Buzz me in.”

“For what? I’m not at home and it’s five in the morning.” I glanced over at the clock momentarily before my eyes went back to my board.

“I know that. Had yo’ ass up at four in the morning running that mile so you cou?—”

“No, really. It’s called stalking.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as he ran down my very early day’s events over the phone like it was normal.

“You about to buzz me up or not? ‘Cause I could go give this egg frittata shit to the homeless lady under the overpassing.”

Giggles escaped my lips as I walked over and pressed the button near the light switch. He knew how to get up here. Food… fucking food.

He hung up seconds later, leaving me to stare at this damn board until I heard his footsteps moving through my space.

“Eat.” I heard him sit the carton of food down before I turned around and looked at him.

“How did you know I didn’t?”

“Despite what you think, I don’t only just pay attention to yo’ backside. Kind of got a nigga studying and fucking stalking.”

“So, you admit it.”

“That what I gotta do to get you to see this how I see it?”

I laughed. “And how do you see it? Matter of fact what is it?”

Shaking his head he of course took a seat in my desk chair, before pulling it back so he wasn’t eating on my work. Yes, my desk was full of shit and a complete mess because I was in the middle of three projects. “Us.”

I couldn’t control the laughter that spilled from my lips. “Us, and what am I missing? When has there ever been an us ?”

“When I ate the pussy. When I nutted in you. Then I ate yo’ pussy again. Then I took my ass in that Walgreens and bought that Plan B to kill my junior. Shit whe?—”

“Now Cartier. I know I’m not the only female you’ve had those experiences with.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You are. Kind of shit bonds us for life, don’t you think.”

I didn’t have a response at first. “What abou?— ”

“No bitch can ever tell you I put my mouth on her or even touched her without the latex between us.”

“We were drunk that night though, we could’ve slipped up. You know like humans do.” I had to rationalize what he thought bonded us for life.

“You ever slipped up with a nigga?”

I shook my head no. “It was a first for me as well.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what does that mean, Cartier? You know you, and I know me. We’re better as friends. Not to mention you’re fucking Taylor and God knows who the fuck else.”

Of course he nodded his head. “I ain’t saying I wanna be in no relationship or any of that. Shit I guess I could be yo’ friend. Thing is I’m the only fucking friend.” He put the emphasis on fucking making sure I knew what he meant.

I laughed. “Do you hear yourself? Only fucking friend. You just wanna fuck and du?—”

“No, ‘cause the friend part is in there. We friends, shit homies. So we chill and all that shit. See how I bought you breakfast?”

“I’m still not fucking you behind Tayl?—”

“That’s done. I already told her that shit.”

I crossed my arms across my chest. “And why on earth would you do that, especially if you didn’t know what I’d say to you.”

“Cause I only kept her ass around to get to you. She knew what was up. It was never that fucking deep.” Within seconds he was on his feet and walking toward me.

I tilted my head to the side looking at him. The more I thought about this the more I didn’t think this was a good idea. “I don’t know.”

“You said it yo’self. I could come back from Taylor. Right? Long as it wasn’t sis.” Why he insisted on calling Virtue sis I did not know. By now his body was making contact with mine, and in no way was I able to move. Hell, I didn’t even think to move until he had already picked me up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Probably didn’t fully but I’m a smart nigga. I can read between the lines.” His hands were on my ass holding me in place, while his legs were moving in the direction of the sofa that sat at the far end of my work loft. When we made it, he sat down with me in his arms.

“Your interpretation of a conversation doesn’t mean that’s how it went. That night we had both been drinking and you nev?—”

“Lotta honest shit happens when we’re both drinking. You got something to drink in this motherfucker right now?” His lips were now pressing themselves against my neck.

“It’s five something in the morning, Cartier.”

“So.” He pulled back looking me in my eyes before he leaned in and ceased ahold of my lips at the same time as his hand gripped my neck.

The feel of his touch was dangerous, horribly fucking dangerous.

There was absolutely no way this was a good idea, but just like the dare devil I was I chose the opposite of what my common sense was telling me.

I told myself this would be great, shit it would… until it wasn’t.

“We gonna be like that?” he asked hands now easing up my cami?

“Like wha—” my word was halted because his lips were smothering mine, swallowing my words.

“Best fucking friends. Typa’ friends that make sure we’re both good?”

“Mhmm.” By now I was on my back, dress up above my waist while he unbuckled his jeans.

“Tight like this.” He was back between my legs, massaging his free mushroom tip against my opening.

Fuck! It was like every time I was in this space with him, I was under a fucking spell. Too aroused to speak, or even listen to the common sense floating through my head like a blimp. Fuck!

He pressed forward, thrusting into me with a hunger that matched my own.

We shouldn’t have been doing this, but I couldn’t stop and he didn’t.

It was all coming down, my leg on his shoulder while he touched depths no one had ever touched while I attempted to hold on for dear life.

This nigga didn’t come here to feed me today, he came to make sure I knew that no matter what I said none of it mattered.

“You hear me, Jo?” he asked lips sloppily against the side of my face. “This shit with me and you ain’t—Fucck,” he interrupted his own sentence.

“Mhmm.”

“Tell me that. Tell me we more than friends. Right now.” His lips found mine, and he began nipping at my bottom lip while his hand fondled with my breast under my shirt. He knew just what to do to send me over a fucking cliff, out of body free air and groundless cliff.

“Tell me you’re done, Jo.” He fucked the sentence into my system suspending me with each stroke.

I couldn’t help but agree, shit repeat anything he wanted because an orgasm so wicked threatened to escape my core. “Fuck.” I moaned.

“Say it.” He began to drill into me mercilessly not giving a fuck that he had my body feeling like it was in an inebriated state, and words of any language just wouldn’t come to me.

“I…mm...d...done…pl...playing…Fucck.” I whined out on the brink of an explosion.

“Good, now where you want it, baby girl?” he asked huskily barely holding on himself.

“Wherev—” The word never ended because our lips sloppily locked as the orgasm I had been holding on to ripped through me.

After Cartier finally left, I tried to get some work done.

I was successful until my grandfather’s nurse called me.

He was in a foul mood, refusing to take any of his medication.

That part was normal but when she said he hadn’t gotten out of bed and didn’t seem well I was alarmed.

Instead of requesting she take the phone to him, I decided I’d go to him.

A day or two in burbs would probably do me justice.

I needed to ground myself and get some actual work done.