Page 19 of The Millionaire Mortician

I stood, sizing myself up and down in the mirror to make sure my choice of outfit was right.

At that point, I had already changed my fit about three times.

First, I felt one was too regular, then I felt the next was too over the top.

Finally, I settled on an in-between choice — a tan fitted dress that didn’t show too much but hugged me properly.

Adding a cute pair of black Givenchy heels and a purse to match.

My hair was laid nicely with my pixie cut, and my makeup was beat with a natural glam.

My phone buzzed with a text message.

Fabe: I’m heading out. See you soon.

Me: Same. See you in a lil bit.

My initial date with Fabian the day before was canceled at the last minute when I couldn’t get out of bed after work.

The salon was extra busy, and I instantly started feeling under the weather once the day came to an end.

When I got home, I showered and crashed, unable to wake myself up to get ready, so I told him we needed to reschedule.

Finally, the time had come for us to step out together. While I was nervous overall, I was yearning to blush and have butterflies flutter in my stomach.

Grabbing my things, I made my way downstairs and out the door. As I slid into my truck, I looked at my surroundings to see if any of Milan’s guards were around and lurking, but the coast was clear. Cutting on my engine, I placed my truck in drive and pulled away from the curb.

About twenty-five minutes later, I had arrived at the restaurant. Before getting out of the vehicle, I shot Fabian a text to see if he was there or not. Almost instantly, I saw the bubbles. He wrote back, saying he was already inside, waiting for me at the table.

Sliding out of my whip, I grabbed the card from the valet and proceeded inside. The restaurant had a nice, upscale feel. The lights were dim as soft jazz played in the background. Looking around, it was a mixed crowd, but mainly of the yt people.

As I approached the hostess, I peeped her sizing me up and down.

“Hill,” I simply stated without uttering another word.

The hostess looked at her screen, then straightened, as if she recognized the name. “Right this way, Ms. Hill.” She led me past the bar where couples were leaning in to each other, and a few solo people looked relieved to be outside their apartments.

Fabian stood as we approached the table like a true gentleman. He wore a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up and some black slacks. His jewelry was simple but loud, and those dimples deepened when he smiled.

Fabian was already pulling out my chair before the hostess could.

“Look at you,” he stated in a low but sweet tone.

“Look at you,” I shot back, giving him a once-over, “trying to outdo me in my own category, huh?”

He grinned, then leaned a little with his eyes sweeping my dress without touching. “Do you feel better?”

I nodded. “Whole different body today,” I confirmed as I settled in my seat. “Yesterday had me done. I was fighting for my life.”

“Rest is important,” he schooled. “For real, though, I’m glad you rescheduled. I woulda waited a week if I had to.”

“Don’t start.” I giggled.

He put his palms up. “Just sayin’.”

The server arrived and went through the entire greeting process before taking our orders. Fabian took the liberty of ordering for me since he knew what was best on the menu. As soon as the server walked off, the conversation started back up again.

“So what about life?” he asked, tapping the table gently like he was keeping time. “You got any of that lately? Or it’s just customers and inventory counts?”

I twisted my bangle on my wrist. “Life’s been... consistent,” I replied. “Busy as hell, but I like busy.”

“Busy is convenient,” he stated, leaning in toward me again. “Life is loud.”

“You don’t know my life,” I teased, but it came out in a whisper.

He held my gaze as those dimples reappeared with his smirk. “I think I know a little.”

I broke eye contact to reach for my water, and as if it were perfect timing, the server came over, placing the oysters in front of us.

Taking the lead, he dressed mine with lemon and a drop of something, slid it toward me with an eyebrow raised like a dare.

I laughed and took it, letting the cold, salt, and heat wake up all the places I’d put to sleep to survive my days.

“Mmm, that’s actually good.” I nodded.

He smiled. “I told you I know wassup.” We both laughed.

It wasn’t long after our main course came, and we dug in. He ordered a steak for himself while ordering lamb chops for me. Both had a side of garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus.

We talked and laughed the entire time. There were no dull moments.

Fabian flirted constantly but carefully, like a man who could read a room and a woman and wasn’t in a rush to do either sloppily.

He asked about my family, and I asked about his.

He told me how he hates late emails, and I told him how I love early mornings.

My phone buzzed once in my bag, but I didn’t pull it out. Whoever it was could wait, and if it were Milan, that was even more reason I didn’t need to answer.

Two hours later, we were full and tipsy. It was clearly time for us to go. As we walked out to the valet, I tripped and almost fell over.

“Yeah, I’m not ‘boutta let you drive like that.” Fabe grabbed and held onto me. He then handed over the valet ticket for my truck.

“I’m fine. I literally just tripped over that crack.” I pointed to it.

While I was tipsy, I wasn’t drunk. I was fully aware of my surroundings and what was happening around me.

“Yeah, aight. I hear you.”

A black Tahoe pulled up with blacked-out tints. I snapped my neck in its direction with the quickness because it was the same kind as Milan’s security. I couldn’t see the license plate, which put me on edge.

Fabian must’ve noticed my uneasiness. “You good?” he questioned.

I turned and shot him a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m cool.”

The valet then pulled up in my truck seconds after. As I was headed to the driver’s side, Fabe stopped me. “I’m not letting you drive, love,” he pressed further.

“I’m not finna let you drive me home,” I giggled to ease any tension that was coming.

“That’s cool. You can come chill out with me, and when your head is clear enough, you can drive home. Cool?” he suggested.

I looked up at his large frame with his eager facial expression. I glanced at the time on my phone and saw it was still early, so I didn’t think the idea would hurt anyone. I thought I could sober up more and still have time to reach home at a decent hour.

“Okay, fine,” I gave in.

He waved at the same Tahoe, then the door opened, and a hooded-looking guy exited. Instantly, I was relieved to know it wasn’t one of Milan’s peoples.

“Just follow me. I’ll drive her shit,” he told the guy.

“Aight, bet,” he acknowledged and made his way back to the truck.

Fabian helped me into the passenger seat, then rounded the vehicle and got behind the wheel.

I wasn’t all the way feeling the fact that I had a next man driving the whip my man recently purchased me.

At that point, shit was just happening so fast. Before I knew it, we were in traffic, heading to an unknown destination.

We arrived at a building somewhere in the city. The drive wasn’t long. It was about fifteen minutes with the night’s traffic. Fabe drove into a garage and went up a few floors until he slowed down and parked. Helping me out, I held onto his hands as I was feeling a little dizzy.

With Fabian’s help, we made our way inside the building, then onto an elevator.

He hit the penthouse floor button, then scanned a card before the elevator instantly shot up to the highest level in the building.

Once off and walking up to his door, my stomach did some flips.

It wasn’t the kind I had when I flirted with him, but the nervous as fuck kind.

When I stepped inside, I took in the scenery.

It was indeed plush and beautiful. Fabian had expensive taste, as I noticed the decor in his place.

Exquisite paintings lined his walls, while a large fur rug sat in the middle of his living room, surrounded by couches that looked so comfortable you’d fall right to sleep once you sat on them.

“You can take off your heels,” he invited. “And let me get you some water.” He gestured for me to follow him into the kitchen.

My feet were screaming from my designer steppers, so I didn’t hesitate to slip them off. I then followed him to get the water. As soon as I got it, I gulped it down as if I’d had nothing to drink all day.

“Thirsty as hell,” he joked.

I wiped my mouth. “Sorry,” I simply stated, and giggled.

“It’s cool, shorty. I’m just fuckin’ wit’ you. You good though?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for everything.”

“No problem. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and led me into the living room.

We plopped down onto the couch, and the assumption I made about it was true. It felt so smooth, fluffy, and soft. It also didn’t make things better that he had pillows and throw blankets on it. Who needs a room when you’ve got a couch like this? I thought to myself.

Fabian turned on the seventy-five-inch TV he had and flipped the screen to the Tubi app.

“Is this what you watch?” I quizzed with sarcasm.

“Hell yeah,” he excitedly responded. “These lil’ hood movies be good as shit. Plus, I fuck wit’ the whole hood romance thing.”

I was also a Tubi watcher. While Fabe made some good points, I watched the movies because they were relatable and reminded me of the urban fiction books I would read by author P.

Wise. Her catalog was long and impressive.

Plus, I was pro-black anything, and most of our black independent filmmakers were distributed through Tubi.

“I get it. I’m just messing. I watch it too.” I giggled like a schoolgirl again, still feeling the Henny Colada I had been drinking earlier.

“You like to play, huh?” He smirked at me.

We were sitting right up under one another. His hand was behind my neck on the top of the couch while I leaned into him just a little.

“I do...” I playfully sang.

“Oh, yeah? I like to play too. But with certain things.” Fabian’s voice dropped in a sexy, flirtatious tone.

“Like what?” I felt heat coming from both of us.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Looking at him in the corner of my eye, I hung my head and just blushed. Out of nowhere, Fabian grabbed my chin with his index finger and turned my face to him, so we were looking in each other’s eyes.

With every second that passed, our lips got closer and closer until they finally met and locked. He stuck his tongue into my mouth, meeting mine to tangle. The kiss quickly deepened, sending chills throughout my body. Almost instantly, my nipples became hard, and my honeypot started to throb.

“Mmm,” a moan slipped out, making me pull away. “I’m sorry.”

Fabian turned my face to him once more. “Don’t be sorry if it feels right,” he shot at me.

That was the thing. I was conflicted with my feelings. Part of me wanted to grab my shit and run out of there fast as hell, while the other part wanted to see what else his tongue could do.

As I sat quietly, with all sorts of thoughts running through my head, he whispered in my ear, “Let me show you what I like to play with.”

Before I could answer, Fabe slid on the floor and positioned himself between my legs. He hiked up my dress and quickly pulled down my thong. I didn’t utter one word. I just let him.

Without warning, he spread my legs wide and buried his face in my man’s favorite place. His tongue flicked, licked, and sucked with a rhythm. Fabe definitely knew what he was doing, because I felt my juices flowing out more and more.

My hand found its way on top of his head, guiding him all around my center as I grind against his face.

“Shit,” I cried.

Fabe then inserted a finger inside me while he continued to devour my knob. I threw my head back in ecstasy, wanting that moment to never end. With him working his tongue, I fucked his face like my life was dependent on it. Moments later, I felt myself reaching my peak, and I came all in his mouth.

Although I’d had an orgasm, I was still heated and wanted him badly at that point.

We had gotten that far, so I said fuck it when I saw him getting undressed.

Fabian’s muscular build was jaw-dropping.

He looked like he could pick women up and turn them every which way.

In that short space of time, I envisioned what was about to happen.

But when he pulled down his slacks, the print through his boxer briefs didn’t match the big dick energy he gave off.

What’s that? I asked myself as I tried to keep a straight face. His dick wasn’t a total shrimp, but it wasn’t big. It was skinny and lacked length. He was not Milan, and I instantly regretted everything.

He then pulled down his boxer briefs and slid on a condom. Still putting on a show that I was in the mood, Fabe laid me down and came near my entrance. Sliding in, I felt nothing, and while he stroked, I still felt nothing.

It wasn’t my man’s thick, long, curvy dick. I was pissed I not only cheated, thinking I was missing something, but wasted a body count on a failure of a man.

Fuck!