Summary: Stack just can’t get enough of the way your scent floods his nostrils!
Pairing: Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!Fem Reader
Warnings: smutty smut, scent kink, cursing, use of n word, vamp!stack, dry humping
Word count: 982
The all too familiar sound of the huge window next to your dresser creaking and the scuff of heavy boots against your floorboards had you grinning before you even looked up from your phone.
He glided inside your bedroom like fog, a cocky grin flashing in the darkness, fangs glinting in the yellow light of your nightstand lamp. The air fluctuated with him, heavy, buzzing, and threatening. It made the tiny hairs on your skin prickle.
“You gon’ get yourself caught,” you teased, tugging your headscarf tighter as you sat up on the bed, watching him kick the window shut.
Stack didn’t even answer. He just stalked across the room, pressed you back down into the mattress, and shoved his face into your neck like a man drowning.
The sound he made was broken, almost desperate. “Mmm. Cocoa butter and sunshine,” he groaned, inhaling deep. “Sweet Jesus, you smell like the goddamn day. Haven’t seen the sun in over eighty years, but I swear I can taste it on yo skin.”
Your thighs clenched under him, a thrill racing through you at the words, dangerous and filthy. Exactly why you kept letting his ass back in, no matter how wrong it was.
“Fuuuck…” he groaned after taking another deep breath, voice shaking like it pained him. “You don’t even know. I could smell yo ass from the corner. Sweetest scent a nigga like me ever knew.”
His nose dragged up the side of your throat, breath shuddering against your ear, teeth grazing but not piercing.
You clutched at his shoulders, heart hammering. “Stack—”
“Shhh,” he cut you off, hand sliding under your shirt, not even trying to be subtle. “Let me have this, Y/N. Just a little. Mary don’t smell like this. Nobody do.”
You moaned softly as he growled, rutting against you already, cock grinding hard through his jeans against the dampening heat between your thighs. His cold nose dragged along the other side of your neck, inhaling like he wanted to do nothing more than to swallow you whole.
“Fuck, baby…you smell so alive. All warm and sweet. Makes me forget what I am.”
You gasped when his hips rolled against yours, denim grinding against your cotton panties. He bit back a curse, nose flaring, drinking you all the way in.
“Stack,” you teased breathlessly, nails grazing his scalp. “What’s Mary gonna say when she finds out you’ve been sneakin’ in here for your little sunshine fix, huh?”
He froze for half a heartbeat, then laughed into your skin, uncaring and low. “Mary don’t smell like this. Never did. All that cold ass perfume and dead air? Nah.” He groaned, rutting harder against you, his voice breaking. “It’s you, baby. Shea, heat, life. That’s what keeps draggin’ me back.”
He shoved your legs open wider and pressed his erection hard against your now soaked panties, grinding slow, filthy circles until you gasped. His hands clamped on your hips, holding you still while he inhaled again, nostrils flaring as the scent of your arousal flooded the air.
“That’s it, baby. You wetter now. I can smell it. Cocoa butter and sun and pussy. Shit—drives me fuckin’ insane.”
Your breath hitched, and the thrill shot sharper, knowing he was a vampire, knowing he belonged to someone else, knowing he might kill you one day and not caring.
“You love this, don’t you?” he rasped, tongue dragging down your rapid pulse. “Love playin’ with fire. Love sneakin’ around with a monster who could ruin you.”
You gasped as he trailed kisses down your breasts and stomach. “You got me, nigga.”
His laugh was ragged, muffled against your skin as he buried his face between your thighs, just above the soaked fabric of your panties, groaning like he was high.
“I ain’t ever bitin’ you,” he muttered. “Not when you smell this good. Cocoa butter, sunshine, life, wet pussy—fuck. If I turned you, it’d be gone. And I ain’t riskin’ that.”
With a supernatural quickness he moved back up your body, kissing you stupid as he ground into you again.
“Ohhh shit! You feel so good, Stack. Don’t stop baby, please.” You begged, linking your arms around his neck.
His grinding quickly turned ragged and sloppy. His strong hands braced on your hips, thick fingers digging in as he rutted against you like he couldn’t stop. Your panties were beyond soaked, the scent of your arousal thick in the air, and every whimper that left your soft lips made him groan even louder.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck baby, you’re makin’ me crazy,” he panted, fangs flashing as his forehead pressed into yours. “Even your sweat smells good. You hear me? You smell like home.”
Your back arched as the friction tilted you closer, his dick dragging over your clit through layers until you gasped, thighs trembling. He heard it, smelled it, knew it.
“There it is,” he hissed. “That scent right there…wet and ready for me. Gonna come for me, huh? Just from me smellin’ you?”
You cried out, your orgasm crashing through in waves, thighs quivering as Stack snarled and thrust hard against you one last time, coming in his jeans with a guttural moan, harsh pants tickling your nose.
He stayed slotted between your legs, trembling, forehead still pressed to yours, breathing deep like you were the only thing between him and death.
“See? I don’t need blood. Don’t need nothin’ else. Just you. Just your scent, baby.”
You trailed your fingers along the short hair at his nape, your lips curving into a spent smirk. “You’re addicted.”
He laughed breathlessly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Damn right and I ain’t quittin’ no time soon.”
Summary: 1931, Chicago summer. The backroom of an underground jazz club. You’ve got ten minutes ‘til you’re due back on stage, but this man’s got his own encore planned.
Pairing: Elias “Stack” Moore x Black!Fem!Reader
Warnings: smutty smut, cursing, use of n word, unprotected sex, cream pie
Word count: 811
The rhythm had started to slow into laze.
Not slow like tired more-so slow like greedy. Like you had him just right long enough for the little high-pitched gasps to fan out into deeper, filthier sounds. Noises that curled the wallpaper, wrapped around the thin smoky air, and tangled in the fringe of that pastel dress you hadn't even bothered to take off.
The mattress wheezed underneath you both, the springs crooning like the horn section outside.
His hands were pinned to your hips, gripping like he was trying to stay in one piece that had his knuckles turning a lighter shade. His mouth was slack and his brown eyes were glued to you like you were a hymn he wasn't worthy of humming.
Stack grunted, “Songbird, you gon’ make a nigga—fuuckk…”
You didn’t even know the man a full 48 hours and he had already given you a nickname. It was a nicer nickname than what most of these other musician niggas hollered at you over the last few years so you didn’t mind. You kind of liked it. You didn’t stop rocking. You were on a time crunch. Your last set of the night was approaching and you were due on stage in ten minutes.
You rocked your hips again and again, grinding down with the kind of pressure that made his head snap back against the flattened pillow, teeth bared like it hurt to feel that good.
“You wanna pull out?” You teased breathlessly, thigh muscles shaking, tight curls sticking to your forehead as sweat pooled right above your breasts. “You think I got time to clean up?”
He stared up at you like you had lost your goddamn mind. The incredulous look on his face made you giggle but that laugh turned into a broken whimper as he angled his hips, reaching a spot so deep inside you your eyes began to water.
“Ain’t never finished in nobody before,” he confessed, voice low and sticky like molasses under the blazing Mississippi sun. “Not even the ones who paid extra.”
Your hands slid up his chest, slow and tender as you leaned down, mouth hovering just above his, “Then I guess I’m ‘bout to be your first.”
And then you snapped your hips down hard enough to make him groan real loud and ugly. Neither of you cared about the other band members down the hall.
“Shit—girl you tryna—damn—”
Now he was bucking up into you, trying to meet every roll, every grind, every slick drag of your soft, warm body against his.
“Don’t stop, Stack! Don’t stop fuckin’ me!”
With everything in him, he tried to warn you. Tried to say he was close, that he couldn’t hold it, that if you didn’t move he’d paint your walls, but you were already locking your trembling thighs tighter around his waist. Taking him deeper and holding him in.
“Come in me,” you whispered, moans crescendoing wildly as that tight heat in your belly began to unravel. “Fill me up, Stack. I gotta sing in ten minutes—gimme somethin’ to keep me warm on that stage, baby. Pleaseeee!”
You didn’t have to tell him twice. He lost it. He unleashed everything he had.
He bucked up into you one more time, body jerking you both forward on the bed and thighs trembling as his slick mouth fell open in a groan so deep that it reverberated through the whole room like a bass line. He pulsed deep inside you, warm and thick almost frantic. Like he’d never done it before. Because he hadn’t.
Still you didn’t stop. You were drunk off him. You stayed bouncing, milking him through every twitch, every soft curse, until he was gasping and gripping your hips tighter, huffing and puffing like you’d just pulled his soul out of him and tucked it between your delicious thighs.
“Shit Y/N…I can feel it,” he mumbled. “Leakin’ already…”
You reached up, grabbing the edge of the vanity for balance, and finally lifted off of him with a breathless giggle.
The slick sound that followed made him groan out loud and flop back against the pillow as his softening dick twitched against his thigh.
“Mmm,” you hummed, licking your bottom lip. “Now that was a warm-up!”
He blinked, completely dazed. “What you just gon’—you goin’ out there like that?”
You pulled the straps of your yellow dress up, smoothed down your fringe, and smirked as you checked yourself in the foggy mirror.
Featuring: Roman Reigns x Ivy (Black Fem OC)
Word Count: 11k
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, mentions of death/funeral, smut. Sorry for the delay but as you can see from the word count...this chapter is a beast. Happy Halloween! 🩸
Happy reading! Read more Roman fics by me or msbigredmachine, if you'd like! ✨
One week was starting to feel like an eternity when those seven days lacked the sight of Ivy and Zaia. His woman, whether she wanted to admit it or not, Angelo loved her like she was meant to be his wife. Sure…it took him time to get his head on straight and show it. And sure…he still wasn’t perfect at it. But it was the liquor that tried to make him meaner, angrier, than who he really was, that’s what his AA sponsor had told him, but damn it…Ivy still wouldn’t let him make things right. And now she wouldn’t even let him see his babygirl who he didn’t mean to hurt. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone.
He was just so fucking heated that Ivy had the audacity to allow a stranger to be so close to her, to their daughter, just because he was a classically handsome nigga. Something about that face of his put a small chill through his heart, even as he felt his blood boil when they fought last week. But none of that shit mattered now. Ivy seemed to have chosen that meathead over him, blocking his number so his apologetic texts couldn’t even go through. He had a key to her house still but he didn’t bother showing up when he feared the woman had changed the locks or put a restraining order on him considering the volatile look in her eyes last Angelo saw her…and the fucking evil look on Roman’s face like if he caught Angelo near that house again, he’d go missing.
And it wasn’t like Angelo was scared of that big ass nigga, but more so he felt something instinctive about his safety, something that made his blood curdle when it tried to heat again at the thought of him. Or maybe that was the whiskey burning through him after he tossed back another shot. The bar and lounge he sat in was a bit crowded for a Thursday night, warm bodies pushed up on him on all sides as he leaned his elbows on the wooden counter with his face in his palms. He let out a sigh, or a grunt, or a burp, he couldn’t be sure at this point. He was wasted, though, that was for sure, the first time he’d been wasted in years. He wanted to be disgusted with himself that he let himself get back here after how hard he worked to sober up and be a better man for himself and a better dad for Zaia…but he was so groggy with that fifth shot of Maker’s Mark that he almost felt nothing, almost numb.
Which was a welcome change to feeling hatred. Hatred for how he unintentionally upset his little girl, how he couldn’t hold her and tell her daddy was sorry. Hatred for how Ivy shut him out instead talking, or arguing, it through like they usually did. Hatred for how the reason seemed to be another fucking man who had no business in their business…
“Ay, gimme ’notha one of thessse,” Angelo slurred to the bartender who was passing by with a tray of shots for the rowdy ass group of older women to his left. The guy took one look at him, sucked his teeth, and shook his head, his short locs shaking with it, before Angelo called to him, “I know y’heard me, man!”
The bartender returned a couple of seconds later with an empty tray and still no drink for him as he spoke over the loud Metro Boomin and 21 Savage song playing throughout the bar, the bass of “Don't Come Out The House” trying to drown him out. “You’re cut off. I told you that after the last one, man. Pay your tab and get outta here.”
Angelo tried to refrain from catching an attitude, tried to reason with him…but maybe his words came out more slurred or hostile than he intended because the next thing he knew, the bartender started reaching for something under the bar like Angelo was a threat. And when Angelo started to reach for him, trying to keep him pulling whatever he had hidden under there by pulling him by his shirt collar after he reached over the bar, security was on him like white on rice, handling him like he was a threat neutralized, tossing him outside until he stumbled into the parking lot.
It took everything in him not to switch around and knock that fool upside the back of his bald head as he walked away because even in the haze of his drunken thoughts, Angelo didn’t want to see a jail cell tonight. But the hatred that still surged in his blood wasn’t wearing off. Matter of fact, that shit just made it worse…and it wasn’t the security guard who deserved the smoke. Nah. That was Roman.
Angelo ran his slightly trembling hands over his white t-shirt that had gotten wrinkled from the altercation, the whiskey starting to scorch through the hatred, or fuel it, as he took a deep, shaky breath to calm himself enough to get behind the wheel and pull up to that meathead’s house across town. His car was on the south side of the bar and Angelo staggered past rows of vehicles, having to grab a few by the trunk to get his bearings when either his Jordans caught on the loose gravel of the asphalt, or when he left the street lights behind him as this side of the building was shrouded in darkness.
Thankfully he could still see his silver Lexus tucked between two black SUVS in the short distance. He could also see the darkness move near his car, a flit of a shadow fitting itself between his vehicle and the building and out of sight. “...Thuh hell?” Angelo said under his breath and blinked, wiping his hand over his face, a wriggle of shame crawling up his spine that he was so drunk that he was seeing shit like that. Or maybe it was just a stray cat. Either way, he steadied himself and slipped into his front seat, swearing to himself he wouldn’t get pulled over or let Roman punk him again tonight…not when he had the glock under his seat for occasions such as this.
He got the engine going and got going down the road fast, foot heavy on the gas and brain just as heavy as it sloshed with one mission in his skull, the darkness following him as the road was dimly lit with the sparse street lights zipping past him on the side of the pavement. Only the reflectors on the road glared in his vision with his bright headlights lit his path and Angelo wasn’t sure when even those disappeared, that darkness engulfing his view before it was a wide oak tree consuming it at full speed that his brakes didn’t want to keep him from crashing into. His tires screeched on the dewy grass and soft soil and his shocked yelp just was piercing as his foot mashed the pedal that suddenly wasn’t working no matter how many times he stomped on it…that darkness that was after him surrounding him in an instant as everything went to black.
“The Hartford County Sheriff's Office is asking for the public’s help to find Bianca Belair, a 25-year-old woman who is missing,” Linda, the local anchorwoman, said in a monotone as she sat at her news desk. “She was last seen October 19th at one p.m. leaving her place of work, Planet Fitness on Ellington Road wearing a black leotard and black leggings. Anyone with information regarding Bianca’s whereabouts is urged to contact the Hartford County Sheriff’s Office Central Dispatch or dial 911.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Ivy mumbled as the evening news report she peered down at on her iPad zoomed in on a photo of the missing young woman, her pretty, bright smile and long, braided ponytail falling over her shoulder with the bold, black words MISSING appearing right beneath it. She was glad she listened to the news with her AirPods in her ears so Zaia, who was hopefully fast asleep upstairs, couldn’t hear such scary and sad stories. And what a scary and sad image, someone who looked so full of life was missing and potentially in trouble…or dead. Ivy hated to let her thoughts stray to the worst, but with what happened to that other woman, Rhea, and her unborn child, as well as the several other women who wound up missing and murdered…she prayed Bianca would be found safe and sound and soon.
She sank further into the cushions of her couch and took a sip of her evening hot tea, a blend of lemon and chamomile, usually the perfect after-work potion to relax her nerves when the hospital could be so busy and yet bleak at the same time, but the soothing flavor in her mug didn’t do much soothing with that news still on her screen before it flashed to another.
“A suspected drunk driver is dead after his car crashed five miles south of the VIBES Bar and Lounge on Thursday night,” Linda said and Ivy shook her head as she tucked her knees to her chest, balancing her iPad against them as she cradled her warm mug in her hands. “Emergency responders were dispatched today after multiple 911 calls reported a crash on the side of Maple Avenue. Upon arrival, they discovered a vehicle, a silver Lexus, had collided with a tree with one person found inside the car, identified as Angelo Harris, aged thirty-three, who was pronounced dead at the scene.”
The mug of tea in her hands nearly spilled into her lap as Ivy suddenly felt numb from the neck down, and yet somehow she felt a vicious shudder slither through her body and sink into the pit of her stomach until she felt violently nauseous, ripping out her AirPods because she couldn’t hear the rest of the story. She wanted to gasp, scream, cry, but all that left her lips was a feeble gurgle that housed her shock. Angelo was…dead? How? He was just in her house last week. He was drunk? He hadn’t drank in years.
And if that feeling of him being in her life and out of it just as fast wasn’t already making her sick, it was the wriggle of the slightest of slight…relief. Ivy didn’t hate the man and certainly didn’t wish death on him, but the stress he had been putting her through was going to send her to an early grave, she was sure of it. It’s why she banned Angelo from ever coming near her or her daughter ever again, especially after he confused and hurt the child with his stupid rage. Yet to hear that he had fallen victim to a drunken accident…it made her feel like maybe she pushed him to it—or maybe he pushed himself to it after the stunt he pulled last week. He was getting more explosive, more angry, and less easy to manage. Maybe his relapse was bound to happen…but Christ, a car fatal wreck?
Ivy shut her iPad off and tossed it to the couch before she all but slammed her mug to the coffee table before she leapt up and down the hall to the downstairs bathroom, her thoughts a fucking jumbled, guilty, sad, anxious, horrified mess, just like her stomach as she threw herself to her knees in front of her toilet, bracing the lid and hunching over. Except the churning bile didn’t come up, only hot, stinging tears that came down from her eyes and dribbled from her chin as she let out a sob. A part of her felt bad to even cry because before she heard that news, she was still grateful about her decision to kick Angelo out of her life…but the other part of her felt the abrupt and disgusting grief of losing a person she once cared about—about her daughter losing her father.
Zaia. How on earth was Ivy going to tell her baby that her daddy was gone? She couldn’t think straight enough to form thoughts let alone words, her tears choking her up as she struggled to quiet herself lest her daughter or Duchess wake up to investigate the noise. But noise sounded from beyond the bathroom, anyway, her cell phone bleating with what she inherently knew was a call from Gemini who definitely was watching the late news and saw the same story. And then another sound blared out, three heavy and steady knocks at her front door, the sudden cacophony in her head and now in her home making her sick to her stomach all over again.
Ivy couldn’t imagine who it could be as Gemini couldn’t be here that quickly, and she silently prayed it wasn’t Roman, her new, next door neighbor who she hadn’t had the nerve to speak to much in the last week after the physical altercation he got into with Angelo. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on his behalf as he’d left her a hand-written apology letter on what felt like an expensive stationary of weighted paper in a cotton envelope, followed by a couple bouquets of white and pink roses. Yet none of it made Ivy feel ready to deal with a new man in her life when she finally got through dealing with the old one. And absolutely not now.
However, when the knock persisted, a woman’s voice trilled through her door. “This is the Hartford Police Department. We’re here to speak with Miss Ivy Jones regarding Angelo Harris.”
Ivy rubbed at her puffy eyes and cheeks with the back of her sleeve before she scrambled to her feet, flinging herself to the mirror above the sink to check if she looked somewhat presentable as she wasn’t expecting visitors at ten p.m. on Saturday, especially not the fucking cops. They made her nervous, even though she never did anything to make them wary of her, yet she found herself frantically tucking her curly flyaways into her messy top knot, smoothing her shaky fingers along her black sweater, and trying to walk at a normal pace and look normal when she opened the door to see an older, brunette woman and bald man behind her in their blue uniforms standing there with stern looks on their faces.
“Are you Ivy Jones?” the woman officer asked after glancing down at the clipboard in her hands.
“Y-yeah. I am,” Ivy blubbered, snatching her sleeves over her knuckles to blot at her watery eyes again. The woman’s steely line for lips shifted into a softer sort of grimace to see Ivy visibly disheveled before she flipped through the papers on her clipboard, the officer behind her pointing a flashlight over her shoulder to provide a little more light than Ivy’s porch lights.
“I’m sorry but we’re here to deliver bad news. Your partner Angelo was killed in a car accident three days ago.” The woman officer paused as she waited for Ivy react, step aside, do something, but Ivy felt stuck, her feet in her fuzzy slippers grouted to her wood floors, her eyes fastened to the dark space behind the officers’ heads, and her head bogged down in too much noise to even hear the officer properly, her thoughts and phone still ringing like a shrill cry for help. “You wanna answer that, ma’am?” the woman officer offered in a soft tone and Ivy blinked twice before she nodded and ripped her feet from where she stood to trod over to her couch and grab her phone.
Fresh tears brimmed her eyes when she saw Gemini’s name and the five missed calls from her as another one came through, and Ivy let them marr her face as she answered and heard her best friend try to soothe her before she could even say a word, likely hearing her subtle snivel on the line. “I am so, so sorry. I can be there in twenty minutes if you want the company, love.”
“Yes, thank you,” was all Ivy could muster up through her tears so thick they clogged her throat. Hearing her best friend’s calm voice amid the chaos gave Ivy a bit of solace, even for that brief call before she hung up and let the police talk her through Angelo’s accident before delivering her a copy of his death report since he had her listed as his next of kin. And she would need every single bit of that solace as she contemplated how to talk her babygirl through what just happened tonight in the morning.
She made her way upstairs now, tiptoeing as she neared Zaia’s bedroom and slowly twisting the doorknob to not make a sound and disturb her as she poked her head in to look at her sleeping peacefully, thankfully not disturbing Duchess, either, who only lifted her tiny head a tad to witness Ivy gently closing the door behind her. However, when she was halfway down the stairs, another, quieter rap upon her front door made Ivy’s head hurt again as she wondered what the cops had forgotten to speak with her about. She longed for the night to just be done, a gargled, exhausted sigh leaving her lips as she pulled open the door. She swallowed that sigh against her will, though, heart aching in a new, mangled way when she saw it was Roman on her porch, instead.
“Ivy…I just heard. I’m…I’m sorry.” The depths of his deep voice reached his eyes, dark, deep, and gazing down at her through a lock of his loose, long hair, a remorse in them that she felt try to shudder her bones as he stood before her tall but almost crouched in his position. Wide shoulders sunken and big hands buried in the front pocket of his red, Nike hoodie. His bearded chin downturned with a slight clench that worked through his jaw as he studied Ivy studying him, the surprise on her face to see him seeping out of her slowly as his sympathy for her seeped in. She could feel it, feel how sorry he was not just for Angelo’s accident, but for what happened last week. Sorry that he was part of her troubles, sorry that he upset her enough that she didn’t want to see him, and sorry for Angelo’s demise.
And Ivy knew it to be true, his letter and roses still tucked away in her bedroom, the card lying facedown on her vanity dresser and the flowers in the glass vase they came with and perched on the opposite side. But things between them were just…awkward. And now unsettling as neither of them could have predicted that this would be the way Angelo would stay gone from her life. Something that she had felt Roman wanted to help her with before he put hands on the man, and now she found herself slipping her hands around his waist after a small step towards him, his own hands carefully slipping up her back until he cradled her to his chest, her face hidden in his as she freely wept into it.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” Roman whispered to her again, his warm breath wisping through her hair before he rested his cheek there as he held her as she cried, wordless, aching sounds rasping out of her and muffled by his hoodie as everything and nothing made sense all at once. This man, by all means a stranger, comforting her and that comfort feeling familiar to her, giving her a different taste of the solace she desperately needed. The ugly guilt of that peace wrapped up in him tried to make Ivy cry harder, but Roman’s fingers stroking little circles along her spine tried to soothe the rattle in her bones.
In the haze of her tears and fears, it felt like another breakthrough of sorts. Just like that moment they shared in her backyard as they held hands…that even in such scary and sad times, there was a glimmer of hope and healing to be found in the seconds that ticked away. Those seconds turned into what felt like minutes as Roman let her cry and cling to him for as long as she wanted, until Ivy glanced up at him with glistening eyes and asked quietly, “Do you want to come in? It’s cold out here.”
Truth be told, she hardly felt that autumn chill with his heat surrounding her, but the goosebumps on her bare legs in her pajama shorts told a different story. Roman nodded once, his full lips tucked in between his teeth as if to lessen a hopeful smile as he followed her inside, the heat of her home almost waning in comparison to his when they settled onto her couch and he put his arm over her shoulder, nestling her to his much bigger and muscular body that she could feel tense up beside her as she rested her head on his chest. It made her wonder if that sudden stiffness in him was because he, too, felt that odd coiling of sin to be so close with a person he’d essentially just met…and yet that coiling of curiosity and warmth kept them close, anyway.
He cleared his throat, Ivy’s eyes on his Adam’s apple shifting and his hand coming up to run over his mouth and grayish beard, his other hand on her arm with fingers still stroking in those little circles, pacing slower now, his voice somewhat gruff and cautious when he spoke softly. “I don’t wanna say the wrong thing here…but I just wanna let you know that I’m here for you. I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about…and I know he wasn’t someone who made shit easy for you, but still. I know you cared about him. In your own way. And I’m sorry, Ivy.”
The apology, like the ones he belted as they stood outside, felt strangely two-pronged to Ivy. Maybe it was the repetition or maybe it was the remorse she still felt in his tone, something lingering in the bass of it like maybe…he felt the same as she did. Sorry that Angelo was dead and sorry that his death was the end to her headaches. That shudder tried to make its way through her again, Roman felt it for certain because he squeezed her to him a little tighter.
“I’m sorry, too,” Ivy heard herself say, her eyes distant even as they fixated on her abandoned mug of tea, ice cold on her coffee table as Roman’s warmth did the job the little beverage was meant to do. “For not speaking to you after…after all that shit went down. You were just trying to defend me.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You were only tryin’ to protect your peace,” he reminded her before she felt the tips of his thick fingers beneath her chin to steer her gaze to his. Something a little heavier than remorse swirled in his brown eyes, perhaps more akin to disgrace, like he felt the weight of his actions last weekend nearly crush any goodwill he had built with her. Something she felt heavy in her chest as her heart thudded with his eyes on her like this, looking at her in that way of his that both made her feel his sincerity and his longing to make it right. Roman’s thumb brushed below her bottom lip, his lips already closer than they should be to hers as he searched her eyes to see if she’d accept his next words as the truth. “I need you to know I’ll never treat you like he did. I’ll never put you through anything like that again. Ever.”
His vow touched her lips with his hushed breath she felt on her cheeks, the scent of mint and his cologne filling her nostrils, filling her head with placid thoughts for the first time tonight. Like how hope was closer to her than she thought. Like how soft his lips were when they met hers. So close that their noses nudged together, his skin and even the hairs of his mustache soft as his mouth moved with hers, a delicate kiss that made a delicate smacking sound as Ivy instinctively leaned into him, chasing more of that warmth, her and Roman’s breathing just as delicate until it deepened with a hitch as she slid her hand up his chest, as his hand on her chin slid around to the back of her head, locking them in that delicate moment before a knock at her door erupted the contained silence of her living room.
They faltered back from each other, Ivy’s heart racing and the blissed look on Roman’s handsome face revealing that his was, too, but he composed himself first and quite quickly, a grave look brewing in his eyes as his brows furrowed. “Is that the cops again?”
“No, no…that’s gotta be Gem. She was on her way here,” Ivy replied, slipping off the couch to head to the door and hiding from him her own eyebrows knitting together at the uncomfortable yet thankfully fleeting feeling Roman’s reaction gave her. And when she swung the door open to let in her best friend, she expected the feeling to dissipate altogether as Gemini wrapped her up in a hug…but the embrace was just as fleeting when she spotted Roman on her couch some feet away.
“Oh…hey, Roman. Didn’t expect to see you here,” Gemini greeted him curtly but still plastered a pleasant grin on her face as he approached the women in Ivy’s foyer. Gemini’s eyes flashed to her with a wariness that only she could read and Ivy did her best not to roll her tired eyes because now was not the time for her friend to exercise her judgment of Roman who was only here to support her like she was.
“He was just leaving...just came over to see how I was doing,” Ivy said after Roman waved two fingers at Gemini with a polite smile that seemed to unnerve Gemini more for some reason. Ivy looked to Roman with regret swimming in her eyes to essentially shoo him away, especially with his kiss still shimmering on her lips, but he seemed to understand as he nodded along to her suggestion, despite Gemini watching him like a hawk as he stepped towards the door. But he didn’t walk through it without turning back to put his arms around Ivy for one last hug…and one last delicate kiss that he planted on her forehead before glancing at Gemini and bidding them both a good night.
Roman was careful to keep the glance simmered, not a glare like it could have been as Gemini wasn’t so careful with how she glowered at him, but regardless, the message was sent. He was going to be a part of Ivy’s life now whether her best friend liked it or not.
Funerals weren’t occasions Ivy attended often, not with Zaia in tow who was bright and understood the dreary meaning behind such occasions. The atmosphere of them was too suffocating and grim and she hated to be engulfed by it in a church where the spirited gospel music tried to encourage a lighter feeling than the one twisted up and gnawing in her stomach. But Ivy hated even more that her little girl had to feel the same twisting and gnawing as she sat in her mama’s lap, her small, round face stained with tears that hadn’t stopped flowing since she had to sit her down and tell her that daddy was with the Lord, her small whimpers in her ear as she clutched a Kleenex that she had given to her but her baby didn’t use as much as she cried into the lapel of Ivy’s black, collared dress as she held her.
It broke her heart into a million pieces all over again, reliving the news of Angelo’s death through Zaia as her daughter tried to process it the best she knew how: Clutching onto her mama for dear life and shielding her face from the new horror that confined her. Ivy would hold her for as long as she wanted, carrying her as they huddled into the black limo Angelo’s family sent to her home to pick them up for the services; carrying her as they filed inside the chapel and viewed the closed casket as Ivy learned from his cousins who would talk to her that his parents, who handled the funeral arrangements without her, decided it was the best decision since he didn’t look the same after the horrible accident; and carrying her into the church annex where the repast was taking place.
Just as Ivy despised funerals, she despised being surrounded by most Angelo’s family, their self-righteous scowls and downright shrewd stares upsetting her as they watched her sitting with her baby still on her lap when they found their own table with Gemini mercifully at her side…and Roman at the other. Angelo’s relatives, and especially his Christian and overbearing mother, were never too fond of her for not accepting him into her life with open arms—even though they were all aware of the bullshit he put her through time and time again. Instead, they always treated Ivy like the issue, like Angelo’s drinking problems, his struggle into sobriety, and now maybe even his death, was her fault because she didn’t love him unconditionally like they did.
“We can leave whenever you’re ready. I think you going to the funeral to pay your respects was doing more than enough,” Gemini mumbled in Ivy’s ear after a reproving glance around the room, her hand covering her mouth. The annex was a bit noisy with the clattering of forks on plates, gloomy chitchat, and the like, but even her best friend knew she couldn’t be too sure about who was eavesdropping in on their conversation since it felt like all eyes were on them and who Ivy decided to bring as her support system. And it wasn’t like Gemini didn’t try to warn her, yet she didn’t fight her on it, either, because she wanted her friend to have all the support she could get during this time.
Ivy shrugged her shoulders, half to gently readjust Zaia’s chunky, black bow headband and keep her cozy as she had fallen asleep on her and half to Gemini’s proposal, looking at the barely touched plates of baked chicken, mac and cheese, and greens Gemini had made for her and Zaia. She was seriously contemplating it as she spotted Angelo’s mother, Gloria, who had been talking with the pastor who presented Angelo’s eulogy but was now starting to walk towards them, making her stomach twist again. She felt herself bristle because she was certain the woman had nothing consoling to say to her, not with Gemini already staring her down right back and with Roman, a random-to-her man at her son’s repast, not even his funeral, in his black, three piece suit, holding her hand on his lap beneath the table that wasn’t obvious unless she was intending to glare at it.
“You really have some nerve, you…you harlot,” Gloria hissed at Ivy, the slits of her eyes zeroing in on Ivy before they appraised the man next to her with disgust. “My son isn’t even in the ground before you bring another man around his child! God is ashamed of you!”
“Who do you think you’re talking like that in front of your grandbaby?!” Ivy hissed back, keeping her voice a bit more restrained than Gloria’s to avoid more eyes swarming their way but it was too late. And even then, her voice was drowned out by Roman’s who abruptly spoke at the same time as her, much to her surprise as the bass of it was commanding yet calm and made Gloria’s eyes snap to him.
“You’re way out of line usin’ that language, ma’am,” Roman said, fingers flexing softly around Ivy’s when she tried to squeeze his and make him hush. Yet he had that grave look in his eyes that she recognized from last week when they were on her couch…a look that made Gloria’s mouth fall open slightly, with awe or fright or both as he continued, “This woman did all she could for your son and that includes bein’ an amazing mother to your grandchild. It’s not her fault what happened to him…and it’s not your concern how she chooses to cope with his tragic mishap.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Gemini hopped up then when Gloria looked like she was about to screech or swing as the older woman raised her hand too close to where Ivy sat before her best friend stood in between them. She glared at Gloria in her big, black and white church hat and chided her, “I suggest you lower your hand outta my friend’s face if you wanna keep it,” but she also turned to chide Ivy as she added, “Get up and let’s go. Now.”
It was like that suffocating and grim air got sucked right out of the room and into Ivy’s lungs as she gathered up her baby, her Gucci mini handle bag, and Roman who followed behind her with Gemini leading the way to the parking lot of the church, those eyes of his family and Gloria burning holes into their backs, leaving Ivy gasping with a fit of rage, despair, and frustration she couldn’t put into words. Gemini took Zaia off her hands to carefully lay her down in the backseat of her Mercedes-Benz before she took Ivy into her arms next.
“Let’s get you home, babe. Y’all are riding with me,” she said to her friend as Roman loomed behind them with his eyes on his black leather loafers before they shot up to meet her glare. That same, simmering, not-a-glare but not-a-kind-look in his eyes as Gemini all but held Ivy away from him.
“I’m parked on the other side of the church…I’ll see you later, if you want, Ivy,” Roman inserted his words as a soft coo, his hand on Ivy’s lower back as she shimmied free of Gemini’s hug to give him one, too, before they parted ways. Both of them being there for her meant the world to her, even if she knew Gemini wasn’t particularly pleased that Roman was allowed in her space on a day like today.
But what her friend failed to realize, and what she would explain to her when they got back to her place, is that it wasn’t like Ivy was doing anything intentionally malicious, especially not like Gloria had insinuated. She still felt that ugly guilt, that bitter bile on her tongue because she felt solace in Roman, from his kiss, one that she didn’t let happen again since the first one for that very reason. Her attraction to the man, her hopeful feelings trying to spring up from the soil of grief that was sown against their will…she had a dozen feelings trying to overwhelm her without her input since Angelo died. Hell, since before he died.
The sadness, the relief, the hope, the comfort…she needed more of the comfort lest she spiral to a place where no one could find her. And if that comfort was a sin just because it happened to be in the arms of her new friend who was a beautiful and charming man, then God would just have to forgive her. Eventually, so would Gemini.
Yet after they both watched Roman pull away from the church in his black Maserati, the tinted windows of his car masking if he was looking at them as they looked after him zipping down the road, Gemini surely looked to Ivy with nothing vague about her worry as they sat at her kitchen island with the half-full bottle of wine she’d brought over the other day. It was only after they got Duchess to settle down with fresh food and water in her doggy bowls and got Zaia settled into her bed for a nap, Ivy silently thanking Jesus that her baby mostly slept through one of the worst days of their lives.
“I appreciate you being here for me, but Gem…I don’t like that look on your face,” Ivy vocalized in a concerned utter. Gemini didn’t even try to fix it and instead let the slight wrinkles of her forehead deepen as she frowned at her friend. The lavender tips of her nails anxiously tapped against the bowl of her wine glass before she let out a sigh, and Ivy braced herself for what she had to say.
“I just…I don’t like this, bestie. You know I love you and all I want is to see you and Zaia be okay…but I’m feeling like something isn’t right. With Roman.”
“Gem, please…I think you’re overreacting.”
“Am I? Listen, I didn’t want to make you feel bad about inviting him to the repast because I understood why you did it…but him accepting the invitation after knowing you a whole two weeks? And then him talking to Angelo’s mom like that? That’s not his place at all.”
“Well, look how she started talking to me! He’s my friend and he was doing exactly what a friend does…stick up for me. It’s the same thing you did, too,” Ivy asserted and gestured to her before Gemini shook her head like she wasn’t trying to hear it.
“Difference is I can do that because I know you. He does not. And we don’t know him like that, either. Like…how can you trust a man who acts like that?”
“Like what?” Ivy folded her arms over her chest and tried not to feel offended because she wasn’t sure what Gemini was getting at exactly.
“I told you something about his energy is off to me…and when you told me about that fight he got into Ange, it clicked. He acts all suave and charming but you told me he beat that man into a pulp almost in an instant. That’s an impulsive anger that men like him try to hide until it jumps out.” Gemini lowered her tone, then, perhaps to keep her niece upstairs from accidentally hearing what she knew was about to be out of pocket. “And who’s to say it jumped out again and that’s why Ange isn’t breathing now.”
“I’m not listening to this,” Ivy shot up from the barstool, her fingertips pressing into her temples as felt the pang of a dreaded headache try to pierce through behind her weary eyes because what the hell was that connection? It made no sense to Ivy other than her best friend being too caught up in conspiracies that she thought she could contrive another one with a man who had done nothing but try to protect Ivy. She swiveled back around to face her, straining to keep her voice even as she asked, “You know what, no. Answer me this. Why would you want Roman to be the reason Angelo is dead and not Angelo who hurt himself? His autopsy showed that he was definitely intoxicated, triple over the limit, when he decided to drive that night.”
“I don’t want that, Ivy! I’m just telling you to keep your eyes open, baby.” Gemini got up, too, and met her on the other side of the island to put her hands on her shoulders. Ivy knew she meant well, she always did, but her timing hardly felt appropriate when she knew Ivy craved comfort, not a damn conspiracy. But her friend’s brown eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses were on her like she was the only one who truly had them open to see what Ivy couldn’t—like Ivy was too blinded by grief or lust or some uneasy mingling of the two. Like she was the only one who could comfort Ivy the right way as she tried to mutter sweetly, “I’m not calling Roman a bad guy because he did stand up for you. But you can never be too sure where guys like him will point their anger next. We know this because of Angelo. So, just be mindful…okay, sis?”
As much as Ivy wanted to protest that she felt no such energy from Roman, none outside of those little bursts of passion when he wanted to defend her, she didn’t want to extend this lecture. She just wanted to crawl into bed, sleep, and wake up when this day was over. “Okay, sis,” Ivy repeated and let Gemini hug her as she put her arms around her friend, too. And with a promise to check on her later, Gemini left her to rest—but not without a promise to herself that she would dig a little deeper into Roman because it was obvious to her that her best friend would not bother.
Because one thing for certain and two things for sure, Gemini wasn’t in the Neighborhood Watch for nothing. There were too many women missing or dead in their area lately and something about Roman smelled suspicious to her, the stench too close to her friend for her liking with his home right next door. And as Gemini got home and in front of her laptop in her office to bring up the resources she needed to investigate, like the police’s criminal history search and hopefully Roman’s social media, she swore it would have to be over her dead body for Ivy to be his, or whoever was behind these murders, next victim.
The dark sky would have felt like the morning before the sun if there weren’t stars still littered in the black expanse, Ivy’s eyes on them through her bedroom blinds slanted open, letting her know she didn’t sleep long enough for it to be the next day, the horrid day of Angelo’s funeral still present. She grabbed her phone on her nightstand, the time glaring bright as 11:11 p.m. on her screen before she winced and rubbed at her puffy eyes.
Her first thought was to climb out of bed and check on Zaia until she remembered her daughter was right next to her, her baby crawling under the sheets to sleep beside her mama because she said she didn’t want to sleep alone. Ivy leaned over to kiss her head and kiss Duchess’s furry head, too, since she snuck her way in between them at some point during the night, before she eased up to stretch and fetch a glass of water for her throat that was a bit sore from the week’s worth of crying and emotion wearing on it. Yet just like that one night, the light glowing through her window from the street lights and her neighbor’s window caught her attention before she left her room. Yet unlike last time, Ivy yanked her eyes away before she could spot Roman appearing in her view or her appearing in his…
She padded down to her kitchen, plucked a glass from her cupboard to fill with water from her Brita filter pitcher in her fridge, and gulped a couple of cool, relieving sips as she entered her bedroom to see her phone lighting up by itself in the darkness with a phone call. Ivy expected it to be Gemini as she put her glass down and picked up her phone, but it was Roman’s name on the screen, having exchanged numbers a few days ago to keep in touch should she “want him for anything” as he put it. Yet when she answered, the soft yearning in his deep, slightly sleepy voice sent an unexpected yet pleasant, warm thrill through her as he said her name and stated what he wanted.
“I notice you’re still up…would you like to come over? I wanna see you.”
“I’d like to see you, too…but I have to stay put with Zaia. Wait, though…how did you know I was up? Are you…watching me?” Ivy spoke quietly, teasingly, because as clearly as she could see his bedroom light, surely he could have seen her kitchen light flick on and off when she was in there moments ago.
“I saw your light on…and I know you see mine,” he said and she could hear his little chuckle on the line. It made her pipe up with a somewhat startled giggle because did that mean he saw her looking through his window the other day? “Come to your bedroom window. So you can watch me, too.”
“I…watch you do what?” Ivy mumbled in an excited hiss she wished she could contain better as she heard Zaia whimper in her sleep and hoped she didn’t perturb her. Yet as she approached her window once more, drawing up the blinds until nothing was blocking the hauntingly beautiful sight of Roman standing in his window, too, almost made an eep escape from her throat as he looked directly at her with a tantalizing grin on his handsome face. He was fully clothed this time, his hair pulled up into a slick bun with his pajamas consisting of a black tank top that showed off the bulging muscles of his shoulders tatted on one side, hugging his cut torso as it tucked into a pair of gray joggers low on his hips, one of his hands shoved into its pocket as he held his phone to his ear.
“Nothin’ R-rated. Not like the last time.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about...”
“Yeah, right.” They both laughed softly before he said in a hushed tone, “If you can’t come over, maybe we can spend time together like this. If you don’t mind.” Roman winked and Ivy blushed as they locked eyes across the short distance between their respective, dark yards and yet with his voice in her ear, his soothing breathing that was almost in sync with hers, she felt like they were just as close as they were the other day on her couch.
“I don’t mind…maybe I’ll come over some time this week, too. If my crazy ass work schedule allows it. I have to be back to the hospital tomorrow.” Ivy sighed to herself as she saw Roman frown at her expense, thinking of how she was grateful for her job but not grateful that because of her position, she was rarely allowed time off, even for bereavement. Nurses deserve much better, she thought.
“Take a day off. You’re the boss there, right? God knows you need it as hard as I know you work.”
“I’m the assistant head nurse. Which basically means I do my job and every job the head nurse doesn’t wanna do, soo.”
She heard and witnessed Roman blow a raspberry through his lips and she smiled a bit, especially as he said, “Fuck that. Take yourself off the schedule for this Friday comin’ up.”
“What’s on Friday?” Ivy asked, coiling a few strands of her hair that fell from her bun around her finger. She felt coy to even ask because she had a good idea from how Roman was looking at her with that subtle yet heated glint in his eyes that she could see even from where she stood, could feel smoldering along her skin, too. It sent another heated thrill through her as he confirmed what she was thinking, what she wanted…what she needed.
“You and me. Dinner. I was thinkin’ The Mill on the River. Somethin’ to get your mind off things…escape somewhere as beautiful as you.”
The little, black, strapless dress that Ivy had pulled from her closet was leaving little to the imagination and little to warm her as the fall, evening breeze skirted her skin and shins laced in strappy black, open-toed heels, but at least she had her sage green, faux fur coat to help, as well as Roman’s arm around her waist as he walked with her on the wooden dock bordering the sparkling, black river under the moonlight and fire-lit torches. The bridge led them to the restaurant on the water where Ivy felt in awe to have never dined despite living in Hartford for three years—but it would only make sense because the last man in her life unfortunately never bothered to take her anywhere, and any and all of her free time she spent picking up shifts at the hospital or enjoying her daughter’s company while she was still young and enjoyed hers, too, Zaia calling Ivy her best friend.
Her little babygirl was her best friend, too, her adorable face one she loved to see each and every day, her precious laughs the reason she’d do anything to make her smile, her favorite Disney Princess dolls and video games why she pushed herself to work and provide a life that made her daughter want for nothing. Ivy felt especially indebted to maintaining the life her daughter deserved now that she was the only parent that could, which is why she wanted to feel guilty about using her PTO to take off this one day. She wanted to feel guilty in general, what with being away from Zaia and with Roman’s fingers gently digging into her hip as he held her close when they stood in the lobby of The Mill, the heat of him and in the fine dining room feeling good as they stood enclosed within rustic brick walls decorated with lantern lighting and pristine, white cloths on the tables.
However, even Gemini had given her grace when she picked up Zaia and Duchess earlier that day, packing her niece, her overnight bag, and the puppy’s kennel into her Mercedes, Zaia’s favorite video games and Duchess’s favorite toys in tow to keep them busy at her house across town and potentially overnight should Ivy want to enjoy her evening with Roman that long. Ivy was shocked that her best friend cosigned the date night after the earful she gave her earlier in the week, but she knew it was likely because she knew deep down that Ivy deserved a night off, just as Roman had said. Ivy knew she deserved it, too…but that didn’t make the complex knot of feelings settling into her heart as she sat across from him during dessert any easier to deal with.
But something about the way he talked, the way the intelligence he possessed extended beyond his work in finance but into philosophy; the way he made her think about life and death; made her laugh to ease the heft of such a conversation; and made her tremble with the glint in his eyes as the lowlights of the room brought out the warmth in them, the chocolate brown of them, staring at her sweetly as he spooned his crème brûlée into his mouth as she dipped her spoon into hers. She felt that knot try to unwind more and more…
Maybe the glass of Cabernet with her lobster pasta helped, too, as Ivy didn’t drink often because of Angelo. Yet the glass had to be doing its job as the brief thought of him didn’t cloud her mind as it did before, instead it moved along as Roman’s eyes moved from hers to her lips that she licked at when a bit of custard spilled there. He licked his, too, but there was nothing there as far as she could tell, just the plush pink of them as they smiled at her, looking more alluring than usual in his steel gray suit and black shirt beneath that formed to his muscles. And again…maybe that was because of the wine…or because of how he purred across the table to her in his captivating voice, “I don’t want this night to end after dessert…care to join me for a nightcap at my place?”
“A ‘nightcap?’” Ivy asked back, wiping at her mouth with her napkin as he nodded with a small sip of his water.
“An after-dinner drink. Something sweet, like placin’ the cherry on top of a lovely evening,” Roman responded. The idea lingered in her thoughts for a moment as Ivy realized it’d be the first time she’d step foot in his home…finally seeing more of the man who was both getting closer to her heart but still a mystery to it because that was one thing Gemini had right. She didn’t know Roman as well as she could…but she’d like to...
“Yeah, that sounds nice…just one drink,” Ivy stated. “I don’t wanna be out too late and abandon Gem with my babies.”
“Of course,” Roman agreed. And once he paid for their dinner, escorted her to his Maserati, drove them back to their quiet, lush cul-de-sac where the lights of their neighbors were off in the still of the night, Ivy followed him up to his wraparound porch and inside his house where he flipped on his lights to illuminate the space of his home that opened up to sleek wooden floors and a crystal chandelier as hung just above his staircase off to the right.
Yet after he took her coat and purse to hang on the hook by his door, he led her to the left into a room where there was a glass dining table with marble legs, a design matching the coffee table she remembered the young movers hauling into his place the day she met him. Roman strolled to the glass bar behind it as he grabbed two crystal whiskey glasses and lifted a well-aged Glengoyne scotch from the many bottles on the shelf, Ivy taking a couple tentative steps behind him as she tried not to gawk at the fine taste he had for décor, like the colorful paintings on his walls of mock Jackson Pollock’s—or maybe they were originals considering his income—and the lavish, sterling silver picture frames on the opposite wall near the window.
Ivy couldn’t help but stare at the woman in those pictures, her deep brown skin the same shade as hers, her wavy hair dark and falling down her back like hers did now as she wore it down tonight, and her small waist and wide curves reminding her of her own as Roman had his arm around them in each photo, his chin on her shoulder or forehead pressed to hers, their engagement pictures from the look of them...and from the look of them, Roman seemed to have a type of a woman he preferred…Ivy found it intriguing.
“She’s gorgeous,” Ivy observed aloud in a soft voice before she looked over her shoulder at Roman coming closer with her drink in his hand. She took it from him with a small sip, the bittersweet cherry flavor warming her chest before she added, “I think it’s nice that you honor her memory like this.”
“She was…and thank you. We can, um, sit in the living room if this makes you uncomfortable,” Roman said almost sheepishly as he stood next to her with his drink hovering near his lips as he waited for her response.
“No, it’s fine. I’d like to know more about her…if you’re okay with talking about her,” Ivy said and he pulled out a chair at the dining room table for her and sat down facing her, his eyes flitting to his photos again before they landed on Ivy with what looked like gentle relief.
“Elesha was…an angel. Kind to everyone she met and I mean everyone…even people who didn’t deserve it,” Roman said with a small shake of his head and a smile, making Ivy smile, too. “I think that’s one of the reasons it’s so…difficult…proccessin’ how someone so kind, so full of light like that could be taken away by somethin’ so mean and foul. Liver disease. She didn’t survive the surgery to replace the organ.” Roman’s features became wrought with that grief she knew he was still holding on to, grief she knew all too well herself.
“She sounds like she was incredible. She didn’t deserve that. Neither did you,” Ivy expressed, her mouth feeling raw with a twinge of fear that she was speaking out of turn. But Roman nodded with a sniffle, tossing back the rest of his scotch like he needed it to singe his throat of the pain welling in it.
“It’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. Even the move here…I didn’t want to leave our house. I lived alone for about a year. But it’s like…we built that house together, you know? Planned to raise a family together in that house. But without her there…I just couldn’t be there without her.”
She slowly placed her hand on top of his when he rested it on his knee, hoping it would lull him as it did before…but when his eyes looked wet with tears she could tell he was trying not to let fall, she pulled him into a hug with her arms around his neck. Roman nuzzled his nose to her neck as he hugged her back and she felt his warm breath there as he sniffled again when Ivy let her fingers swirl on his back in his suit jacket, drawing those little circles he did on her that felt good, calming, praying it would have the same effect on him.
And when Roman grasped her closer in the hug, nearly pulling her into his lap as he murmured, “Thank you, Ivy,” she knew he meant it and appreciated her like she appreciated him. Like friends who appreciated each other. Friends who pressed their lips to her neck with those delicate kisses she’d been thinking of but didn’t dare ask for or allow herself to want because it all felt like the wrong timing…but his mouth felt right as it trailed those soft kisses gingerly up her throat, along her jaw, and, at last, on her lips for a tender moment before that gaze of his was on hers, intense and heated as they parted, as he confessed under his breath, “Sorry…I’ve just been wantin’ to do that again. Is that wrong?”
“No…s’okay. I did, too,” Ivy breathed back, the air in her getting stolen by the feel of his fingertips slightly digging into the small of her back, by how she wanted to feel them inch onto her hips and maybe her thighs…
“Yeah?” Roman breathed, too, before he rested his forehead on hers, feeling her quiver under his touch as he traced the seams of her dress down her left hip. “I got the feelin’ there was a line we drew after the last time…a line I didn’t wanna cross with everything that’s happened. But…”
His fingers caressed lower now, finding the bare skin of her thigh where it met the hem of her dress. It was like he could read her mind as Ivy watched him watch her eyelids flutter when he teased a finger towards the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “But?” she tried not to whimper.
“But…if you want this…I want it, too, beautiful,” Roman whispered before he retracted his hand from her thigh to slip around her throat, the surprise of his sudden yet agile grip forcing that whimper she tried to swallow to tumble out. He inhaled it with another kiss that felt as deep as the curiosity still coiled in her belly, spreading to her core like delicious sin to yearn for someone she shouldn’t yearn for right now. But he tasted just as delicious as his tongue curled on hers, sweet like scotch, as well as his words tasting tempting and sweet as he uttered in a growl, “What do you want, Ivy?”
“You. I…want you,” she replied through his kisses, his mouth consuming hers with a hunger yet a sophisticated deft that gave her just enough to desire more. It was almost like it was on purpose, like he was testing if she meant it, testing his grip on her throat with a little squeeze that made her let out a pitiful moan.
Pitiful because the comfort she craved felt snug with his hand on her, felt hot like his kisses, felt aching like his voice when he grunted back as he suckled the tip of her tongue…it was comfort like this she couldn’t give to herself, couldn’t get from the last man in her life…
“What do you want from me, darling?” Roman’s strong hands fell to her waist, hoisting her up until she sat on the table before him. He remained seated in his chair as he slowly spread her thighs open, just enough that the black lace of her thong peeked at him from beneath her dress, his palms slowly massaging up her inner thighs with wide thumbs nearing the heat that called to him, telling him exactly what Ivy wanted. She gasped with another whimper when she watched Roman’s head fit between her legs, his lips just as delicate on her skin as they were on her upper body, all of her body trembling in his hands when his eyes drifted up to hers as he demanded after each kiss, “Tell…me…I’m listening.”
Ivy couldn’t remember the last time a man asked her what she wanted and waited with patience for her to respond, let alone make her this damn wet with just his kisses and words as she felt the cling of her thong to her pussy before Roman’s lips dipped there for a kiss over the damp fabric. “I want you to make me feel good,” Ivy moaned the honest truth. She’d gone too long with the bare minimum, the good enough, or the almost there. Years of putting another man before herself because she thought it would make her a better mom but it only made her a bitter woman. She wanted—no, needed more.
And Roman seemed to understand as his lips grazed at her thong and his thumbs hooked at the strings, moaning back, “Lay back then, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”
She let herself settle onto her elbows, her mind trying to slosh with a fervid, fuzzy warmth from the nightcap and from Roman as he rolled her thong down her legs, past her heels, and onto his floor before he placed her thighs on his shoulders. The silk of his dark hair swept off his face into his signature bun still felt soft on her skin, as did his beard as he wet it with a kiss that swiftly grew messy from his mouth savoring how she drooled on his tongue that was in no rush to push and flit and thrust and lick and explore the soft folds of her pussy. Ivy wanted to feel ashamed of how her airy moans echoed in the silence of his vast home, but he gave her no reprieve to feel anything but good, so good she couldn’t bother to choke the sound with her hand over her mouth as that hand came down to fondle the back of his head, keep him where his tongue finally curved around the shape of her clit, slow flicks of it widened to make her feel him all over it.
“Taste so fuckin’ good. I knew you would…sweet girl like you,” Roman groaned to her pussy, biting his lip as he looked at her before a mischievous smirk appeared on them. “I think that’s my third or fifth compliment…and you still owe me two.”
“Mmm, fuck,” Ivy bleated instead when he swept his tongue over the pearl of her clit, but he pulled back once more with a cute shake of his head.
“Talk to me nice, baby. Tell me how good I’m eatin’ this pussy,” he commanded, the bass of his voice rolling through her as he held her still in his hands to keep that pussy in his face as he wagged the tip of his tongue along her sweet spot.
“Oh, god…I-I like what you’re doing with your tongue…just like that,” Ivy hissed, her heart pounding in her ears from the rush of sweet blood in her veins as he kept flickering his tongue from side to side.
“One more,” Roman urged her with a sloppy, audible kiss to her pussy that made Ivy want to crawl up the table but his grip on her was tight. She was about to lose her grip on reality as he made her feel unreal…
“You’re gonna make me cum already…Jesus, yesss,” Ivy panted, that heat ever-present between them spiking with the buck of her hips as Roman studied her squirming on the length of his tongue. The look in his handsome, hooded eyes was confident and lethal, like he didn’t need words to tell her to cum for him, letting the ripple of his skilled tongue on her spot and a thick finger carefully nudging inside of her until she clenched around it as he found her other spot do the talking for him. Ivy talked enough for the both of them, anyway, as the heat in her core licked at her like supple flames until she dripped on what had to be the expensive wood finish of his dining room table, fluttering in his mouth as she tried not to shout his name and shouted to heaven how he made her feel. Which felt better than good, better than healing—it felt divine.
“I—I can’t take anymore. Please,” Ivy whined as her trembling hands in his hair that had been keeping him close tried to push him back. But she felt Roman’s cool breath scatter along her wet warmth with a devious chuckle, his mouth still suckled to her clit before he pulled away with a small slurp for a few seconds.
And only a few seconds when Roman licked at his lips, glossy with her wet, and stroked his finger in her, pulsing until she could only see his knuckle and cried out from the tingle of over-stimulation that tried to make her eyes see the back of her head as he reminded her, “You said you wanted me to make you feel good, right? Well…I’m just gettin’ started,” and brought his mouth back to her.
. . .
The Boy Next Door: Chapter Three
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“Uhhnnn, fuck...baby I’m comin’...”
Angelo’s deep, rough voice broke as he yanked a little too hard on Ivy’s hair, causing her to wince from the sharp pain. He thrust inside her just as hard a few more times before his body seized up, his pelvis mashed against her backside to make her feel him pulsing inside her as he came. Not for the first time, she was thankful condoms were a thing and she always insisted that he had one on him before he touched her; there was no doubt he would get her pregnant the next chance he got with the aim of tethering himself even deeper into her life. It was apparent in the desperation with which his admittedly above-average dick dug all up in her pussy every time they got together. On the bright side, his efforts got the job done…Well, that, along with the frantic circling of her fingers around her clit that never failed to drag her to a long-awaited nut that currently had her moaning noisily into her bamboo sheets. Thank goodness her daughter was a long way down the hallway, fast asleep in her four-poster bed, oblivious to the late night goings-on of her dysfunctional parents.
She hissed with relief when Angelo finally released his vice grip, flopping onto his back, his sweat-slick chest heaving up and down. The same old routine followed, with him lazily and unwisely reaching out for a cuddle, prompting her standard rebuff of rolling away from him. She waited patiently for the gradual shift in his breathing, from heavy to relaxed, signaling that he was out like a light. Glancing over to confirm, she rolled her eyes with a huff. This dude left the condom on. Again. Even in his sleep, he was making her clean up after him. Exhaling heavily, she reached over to carefully slide the thin latex off his dick and tie it up in a knot, climbing out of the bed to dump it in the trash can nearby.
The lights illuminating the paved streets outside her home seeped through her bedroom windows, shedding more light than was necessary considering it was deep into the night. She padded over to the window to draw down the roller blinds, making a mental reminder to herself to keep them closed more often now that the house across was occupied. Her fingers wavered when she noticed that the lights of his bedroom were still on. It piqued her curiosity as to what would be keeping him awake at this late hour. Work, perhaps?
And then, almost on cue, the hulking figure of her new neighbor came into view, and her breath caught.
Roman stepped out of what was probably his bathroom, his towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. His hair was down, long, silky and clearly wet, the droplets of water glistening against his bare chest. He was walking around the room, seemingly acquainting himself with the new space. Ivy was on the money with the athletic physique, unable to take her eyes off his bulging muscles, the ridges of his abs, and the intricate tribal tattoos adorning his right arm, pec and half of his back that only embellished the majesty and beauty of this stranger. Standing there like the voyeur she’d become, she allowed her mind to wander, to wonder what those taut, rippling muscles would feel like pressed against her nakedness, his long hair fanning her face as his big body pinned her down…his voice, deep and rough and needy in her ear, talking her through her pleasure…
So entranced was she in her fantasy that she didn’t realize he had pivoted in her direction, fully facing the window, until it was almost too late. Her eyes widened as his hands slid south, unraveling the towel from his waist…
Gasping in alarm, she quickly turned away, fumbling with the blinds to snatch them shut. She leaned against the wall, her cheeks blazing, hand on her hammering heart as it dawned on her that she’d almost seen him naked.
And yet, as scandalized as she was, a small part of her wished she did.
Damn.
Willing away the disappointment and the stirring in her loins, she dragged herself back to bed, hoping she would get some sleep.
Morning arrived too quickly for her liking, and she was up too early considering it was her day off, with her next shift not until tomorrow. Untangling herself carefully from Angelo’s clingy grasp, she rolled onto her side and checked the time on her phone charging on her nightstand. Seven a.m. was a decent hour to take Duchess out for a morning walk and be back home in time for Zaia to be out of bed so they could make red velvet pancakes together, assuming she wouldn’t be glued to her father’s side like she liked to be.
Climbing out of bed carefully so as not to wake Angelo and kick off her day on a sour note, she threw on a forest-green sports bra and matching leggings from Actively Black, along with a pair of Nike sneakers, and wrapped up her hair in a bun on top of her head. Grabbing her phone and headphones, she stopped by Zaia’s room to check on her. As expected, her baby was sound asleep, buried beneath her Disney Princesses duvet. Ivy would have woken her up to join her but she wanted her to rest; she’d worked so hard all week in school and with her chores and therefore earned this Saturday morning lie-in.
Laying by Zaia’s bedside, Duchess’ head snapped up when the door opened. She bolted across the room towards Ivy, her tail wagging excitedly, bouncing on her hind legs and pawing at her mama’s shins.
"Hi, girl! You awake? You’re a good girl, yes, you are!" Ivy cooed softly, shutting the bedroom door quietly before lifting Duchess in her arms to be attacked with excited licks and doggy breath. "Come on, let’s go for a walk." Grabbing her leash, harness and a water bottle, she headed downstairs and out the door.
The route was a simple one, the expanse of tarred road sandwiched between rows of houses of various sizes and styles leading down a winding path to the public park. The weather was perfect, the fresh air sweeping over Ivy's face with a calming, peaceful feeling that was a stark contrast from the controlled chaos of her life. She let Duchess lead the way, the little dog stopping every now and then to sniff a tree or bark at an innocent squirrel. Another sharp turn round the bend brought them to the entrance of the dog park. Lowering her headphones around her neck, Ivy settled down on a nearby bench, watching Duchess run towards the puppy playground. It was relatively empty with just two other owners and their equally small dogs, but she was sure she’d leave once it became crowded. To pass the time, she scrolled through her unread emails, responding to the urgent ones while keeping a watchful eye on Duchess. A flash of movement to her left caught her attention, and looking up, her heart raced in her chest.
Slowing down to a stop on the pedestrian path, dusting his knees off, was Roman. Even with a beanie and a hoodie covering his head, there was no mistaking his striking features; the prominent cheekbones, the sharp jawline framed by his thick beard. His long-sleeved Nike shirt clung to his upper body, straining the fabric’s futile attempt to contain the burgeoning muscles underneath. Ivy found herself taking a swig of her water due to the heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
She shouldn’t have disturbed him. She should have let him go about his day - but her mouth and hand moved faster than her brain, waving from her seat, “Hey Roman!” She watched him glance around in search of her voice, a hint of apprehension on his handsome face before his eyes landed on her. His tight frown bloomed into a bright smile that sparked a sensation similar to the one last night when she was ‘spying’ on him. The way he walked exuded confidence and power, commanding the space around him, as she noticed, to her chagrin, other women doing double takes as he passed by them.
"Wassup, neighbor? This seat taken?" he asked.
"Not at all,” she answered, a little too eagerly as he settled down on the opposite side of her bench, keeping a respectable gap between them which allowed her to gawk…respectfully. His dri-fit shorts accentuated the thickness of his thigh muscles that flexed when he shifted, inadvertently drawing her eyes there. She’d seen a lot of him last night and internally she craved more, craved to see exactly what lay underneath. The sunlight enriched his caramel skin, the light sheen of sweat giving him a vibrant glow. Ivy swallowed hard, willing herself to remain composed. “How’s your morning going?” she asked.
“Great, now that I’m talkin’ to you,” Roman smiled at her, leaning back in his seat to admire her in her sports bra and high-waist tights, her afro curls piled high on top of her head. “You look really nice.”
The blush threatened to burn her cheeks as she tugged shyly at her top. “Thanks. It’s just sportswear though.”
“Maybe, but that don’t change what I said,” he insisted, his deep brown eyes deliberately scanning her body. A shiver swept up her spine at the growing intensity as he looked at her. Flustered, she played it off by looking around for Duchess who happened to be just a foot away, racing two other dogs around the canine condo.
“I see you came alone,” Roman observed, “Your little girl alright?”
“She’s good. Sleeping in. She’s been a busy bee all week so she’s earned the rest. We’re gonna make pancakes when I get back.”
“Hmm, sounds delicious. I heard you call her Zaia? Am I right?”
“Correct. It means ‘precious’ in Arabic.” A fond smile fell over her features at the thought of her bright, beautiful little six-year old angel.
Roman nodded, digesting the information. “It's a great name. Pretty, just like her mama’s.”
Ivy looked away, her grin now bashful. “Here you go again with the compliments.”
“We still on that, huh? You do owe me a couple yourself,” Roman replied with a cute smirk that made her warm all over. “I’m still working on it, tryna find the right time,” she joked.
“Any time is a good time for a compliment.” His smile faltered, his cheery tone hardening slightly, “Unless you’re worried about the boyfriend. He still bein’ a headache?”
Ivy scoffed. She’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. “He's not my boyfriend. We share a child, that’s it.”
“Oh? He made it pretty clear when he was all over you and then tried to jump me.”
She almost laughed at that. One look at Roman quickly erased any scenario where he could be jumped. “About that…I’m really sorry…he can be a little…assertive sometimes,” she began.
But Roman shook his head, his nose turned up. “Don’t apologize for him. He might be your kid’s father but you’re not responsible for his foolishness.”
Most times he didn’t give her a choice in the matter, forced to deal with the mess afterwards. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” she sighed.
“That’s my point. There shouldn’t be a next time,” he replied, staring into her eyes, the sincerity radiating from them unnerving her a little. Her issues with Angelo was the last thing she wanted to talk about, especially with a relative stranger. Thankfully she was given a way out as the playground started to fill up with more people. “Well, I’ve been out long enough. It’s time I headed home,” she announced, getting to her feet. “Duchess! Come here, girl!”
"Cute little puppy. How long have you had her for?" Roman enquired, watching her hook the leash and harness around the puppy.
"About three months. She was Zaia’s birthday present from my friend Gemini. She’ll be eight months old next week. She and Zaia keep me fit with their combined energy," Ivy explained with a laugh, going quiet for a moment. “What happened to your hand, by the way?” She nodded at the white crepe bandage wrapped around his left hand that was peeking through his sleeve.
Glancing down, he cleared his throat and shifted his hand out of view, seemingly embarrassed by his injury. “Oh. Knife wound. I was meal prepping and accidentally sliced my palm. A little bit of bleeding but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Wow, that must have hurt. I can take a look at it if you want, make sure it’s-”
Roman smiled and waved away her concern. “I know that’s your nurse instincts poppin’ out, but I’m fine. Don’t worry your pretty little self. But who knows? Maybe somewhere down the road I might need you for…other things,” he finished with a sly wink.
The lowered bass of his voice had Ivy biting her lip at the blatant innuendo, not missing the way his eyes flickered to her mouth. She grinned sheepishly and shook her head, tugging gently on Duchess’ leash. “Alright then, I’ll leave you to your workout…”
“I’m done, actually, and I’m about to head home. I can drop you off too, if you'd like. I drove here,” Roman offered.
For a split second, she imagined Angelo’s reaction to her pulling up in another man’s car. But the visual was gone as quickly as it surfaced. It was none of his business. “Sure.”
As they approached the parking lot, her eyes widened as he remotely unlocked the doors to a shiny, sleek black Maserati GranCabrio. “Is that yours? Oh, you ballin’, ballin’,” she remarked, noting the blush creep up his cheeks as he opened the passenger’s door for her. “I do alright,” he mumbled.
“Wow. What do you do? I don’t think I’ve asked.”
“I’m a Senior Finance Manager at an accounting firm downtown,” he answered, starting the car and letting the top down. “But I also freelance for private individuals, angel investors, pro and college athletes. I mainly work remotely, so you’ll be seeing me at home often.”
Ivy settled in her seat, awed by the lush beige color of the interior, feeling slightly intimidated being inside such an expensive car. “Well, they’re treating you real well,” she said.
“They’d better, I work my ass off for ‘em,” Roman chortled, backing out of the parking lot.
Conversation flowed easily on the drive home. Ivy did her best to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn’t resist taking the occasional peek at Roman while they chatted. She noticed he was doing the same, sprouting more butterflies in her belly. As they pulled up to their street, he killed the engine next to his sidewalk. A tentative silence fell between them that would probably have been suffocating if it weren’t for Duchess’ routine panting. Ivy dared another glance at the big man, the feeling in her stomach intensifying as those gorgeous eyes of his lingered on her again.
“Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it,” she whispered, gathering Duchess in her arms.
Roman smiled. “Not a problem. Tell Zaia I said hi.”
“I will.” Another long look, another grateful grin before she stepped out of the car and crossed the street towards her front door, fully aware that his gaze was still on her, fully aware that she liked his gaze on her. A lot.
However, a deep frown replaced her giddy smile when the door swung open, Angelo standing there, his face like thunder. The darkening of his light eyes as he glanced over her shoulder and the sound of the Maserati’s door slamming shut told her the two men had locked metaphorical horns, the tension pulsing from both sides.
“What the fuck! I know I ain’t just seen you come out of his car,” Angelo hissed.
“Wassup, man. Ivy, you good?” Roman called out behind her. Stoking the fire.
Quick to douse it before it raged, Ivy threw a smile his way. “I’m fine! Thanks again!” Not waiting for a reply, she ushered Angelo back into the house and set Duchess on her feet, the puppy immediately dashing away in search of Zaia. “If you must know, I ran into him at the park and he offered to bring me home,” she explained, entering the kitchen. “I had to apologize to him for that disrespectful crap you pulled yesterday. I get along with all my neighbors and you’re not about to fuck that up for me.”
“Get along, huh? Zaia coulda seen you. How you think that’s gonna look, her mama joyriding with some other dude, huh?” Angelo demanded, his eyes narrowed accusingly.
Incensed, Ivy spun around, glared at him. “Are you using my daughter to gaslight me, Angelo? Seriously?”
“Our daughter, Ivy! You out here lookin’ like a thot and for what? Is that the example you wanna set for our kid? Where’s your sense of self-respect?”
Clearly, the audacity of the man she called her daughter’s father knew no bounds. “Respect?! Like the respect you showed me when you cheated on me?” Ivy countered, crossing her arms, fire in her eyes. “When you only came crawling back because that bitch dumped your slow ass and left for California? When you refused to be in ‘your kid’s’ life until you had a DNA test done, despite your dumbass knowing you’re the only one I was with? Refresh my memory, Angelo!”
Silence. Deafening. Tense. Truth.
Angelo shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, his tone low and exasperated. “Why you keep doin’ this shit, Ivy? How many times do I gotta apologize for that?”
“I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it,” she snapped. “You lost my trust a long time ago and nothing you say or do will ever change that. Period.” She trailed off, focusing on the clock on the wall like she’d learned to rein in her emotions. It was only eight o’clock and she had a headache already. Rinse and repeat. “Don’t you got some conference to be at?” she threw at him, eager for him to be out of her face.
Bristling at her harsh dismissal, Angelo sucked his teeth, snatching his belongings off the countertop. “Ol’ meathead ass gives you some attention and now you got a fucking attitude.” His sigh was heavy and dramatic as he finally, thankfully walked away. Her eyes closed with a sigh of her own, the familiar gnawing in her chest surfacing as she overheard her daughter’s sniffles from the living room pleading with her daddy not to go, him soothing her and promising that he would be back soon. Her heart broke for Zaia, but selfishly, she was glad he was out of her space, even going as far as to wish, yet again, that he could take it one step further and be out of her life, too.
A crime documentary come to life.
The news reporter stood in the neck of the woods, under the shaded protection of a few giant sequoias and a couple of smaller deciduous trees, a short distance away from a clearing that was cordoned off with caution tape guarded by several uniformed cops. In the background, a body bag was being loaded onto a gurney. The face of the victim splashed across the screen made Ivy’s blood run cold.
She’d seen the young woman, Rhea, just three days ago at the hospital. They didn’t interact, but she was hard to forget with her pale skin, numerous tattoos and goth clothing that stood her out from all the other patients at the Gynecology ward. Never did Ivy imagine she’d be dead just days later. Murdered. The news said she had been reported missing yesterday and was found by a jogger, bound and gagged with her throat slit from ear to ear. The woods were close to the dog park, so to know that such a horrific crime was committed so nearby, while she was out there just this morning with Duchess, sent chills down her spine.
“I’m still in shock,” she confided in her best friend Gemini over FaceTime, adjusting her iPad on her kitchen island. “I remember seeing her in the hospital earlier this week. She was so young, barely in her twenties. Who could have done that to her?”
“That’s what everyone’s trying to figure out,” Gemini said, her expression grim as she lounged on her patio. “I spoke to Officer Gable. He says she was killed in her home then her body was dumped in the woods either last night or early this morning.” She dropped another bombshell. “And get this…this hasn’t been made public yet, but they also found a positive pregnancy test in her backpack.”
Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth, floored. That poor girl was pregnant?! “Oh my god.”
“I know, it’s wild. They’re looking for her boyfriend, Dominik. Apparently he’s outta town but they’re ruling him as the prime suspect,” Gemini went on, “If you ask me, I think there might be a serial killer on the loose. She’s not the only one that’s turned up dead in the last few months in the surrounding counties.”
If it weren’t for the severity of the situation, Ivy would have rolled her eyes. “What? Gem, don’t start with all that again.”
“Girl, you haven’t been following this like I have. Similar cases happened in the last three months in Fairfield and Middlesex. Twenty-something women. Throats slit, dumped in ditches and bushes. The M.O.’s are all the same.”
Casting a quick glance over at the living room where Zaia was dancing with Duchess to ‘The Veggie Dance’ by Gracie’s Corner, Ivy shifted to a quieter side of the kitchen to prevent her baby from overhearing this gruesome conversation. “Well, let’s not jump to conclusions when the police don’t even have all the facts. What does the group think about this?” she asked, referring to the local Neighborhood Watch of which Gemini was a member. In the three years she had lived here, they had only dealt with vandalism and break-ins. To her knowledge, nothing this violent had ever occurred in this harmless, almost sleepy little town, and it spooked Ivy that it happened so close to home.
“We’re having a meeting tomorrow to update everyone and address safety concerns we know will be brought up. Make sure no one’s panicking unnecessarily.” Gemini chuckled at the trepidation on her friend’s face. “Girl, relax. Zaia, Duchess and I will protect you.” There was a brief pause as she stood up from her lounge chair and walked around her backyard pool. “Want me to come over later? I haven’t seen my two babies in a while.”
Enticed by the thought of having company that wasn’t Angelo, Ivy happily replied, “Of course, babe, you never have to ask. How about dinner tonight?”
“You know I could never say no to your cooking.” Gemini wrinkled her nose. “But if that bitch baby daddy of yours is still lurkin’ then I’ll pass.”
“Nope. He’s away for the weekend,” Ivy assured her.
“When will I hear he’s away for good?” Gemini prodded, her words drawing a sigh of defeat from Ivy. It said a lot that none of her friends got along with Angelo. If she had a dime for every time Gemini warned her to get rid of him, she’d be living in the Hamptons instead. But she understood that she was only looking out for her and she would always appreciate it and reciprocate accordingly.
Beautiful, wisecracking and often cynical, Gemini was a successful, high-powered corporate lawyer with a love for fashion trends and (Ivy called this an obsession) crime and mystery shows that fed into her crazy, oft-amusing conspiracy theories. Like Ivy, she often had it tough with relationships, swearing off men every couple of months. It didn’t help that suitors were usually intimidated by her financial status and her brash, blunt nature. But all of that also came with a heart of gold. Ivy would never forget her hospitality, being the first to welcome her and Zaia with open arms when she first arrived in town. Helping her secure the mortgage on her house. Taking Zaia to the local dog shelter on her birthday and pairing her little girl with the most loyal companion she would probably ever have. She was the life of the party everywhere she went, including Ivy’s household, as she sauntered through her doorstep later that evening with a big bottle of Pinot Noir and an even bigger hug for her favorite niece. The wine was very welcome, as Ivy was forced to abstain around Angelo who was a recovering alcoholic.
Together, the women moved the food to the dining table, with little Zaia playing her role as the dutiful assistant to her mama and aunt and filling up Duchess’ food and water bowls. As they settled down to eat, a knock on the front door startled them, their heads whipping in its direction. Gemini exchanged a look with Ivy. “Expecting someone else?”
“No…” With a heightened sense of caution, Ivy crept towards the door and opened it, surprised to see Roman standing behind it. “Hey,” she greeted, a hint of concern in her tone. “What’s up? Everything alright?”
“Hi…wow,” His greeting was distracted, rendered temporarily speechless as he took in her sweater minidress that clung to her generous curves. “Uh…sorry if this is a bad time, but I was wondering if I can borrow some sugar? I’m trying to bake cookies for my office party in the morning and I haven’t got time to run to the store.” Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he continued, “I know it’s cliche as hell, but I thought I’d come over and ask since your cooking smells so delicious.”
Corny request or not, it was way too charming to turn down. Not that she would. “Mr. Compliments does it again. Come on in.” She motioned for him to follow her inside and into the warm, homey atmosphere of her kitchen. His eyes glossed over the spread of food on the table, then fell upon the two other sets of eyes staring back at him, one innocent, the other suspicious. “I see I’ve interrupted dinner, sorry about that, ladies,” he said, a demure, friendly smile gracing his lips as he waved.
Gemini got to her feet, almost burning a hole through this stranger with her sharp gaze. “Ivy, who is this?” she demanded with an attitude, making Ivy shake her head behind Roman’s back. Her friend always had a hard time warming up to new people.
“Gem, this is Roman, my new neighbor. He moved across the street a couple of days ago. Roman, this is my friend Gemini,” she introduced them, watching Roman extend his hand, the other woman hesitating for a long beat before shaking it. “Hi, Gemini. Nice to meet you.”
Gemini gave him a tight smile. “Hi. So you’re the one who got that big ass house.”
Well, that went as well as it could have.
“Zaia, wanna say hello to Mr Roman?” Ivy encouraged her daughter. The little girl cocked her head to the side, and Roman noticed how much she resembled Ivy at that moment. “Hello, Mr Roman. You’re really tall,” she pointed out, her eyes filled with awe.
“Thank you Zaia, I get that a lot,” he laughed, crouching down to pet Duchess who had bounded over happily, recognizing him from earlier this morning. Ivy rummaged through her walnut kitchen cabinets looking for the bag of sugar she had purchased a month or two ago. Locating it, she handed it to Roman along with a small-sized cookbook. “Here. You can use as much as you need. And I earmarked the page for the recipe for chocolate chip cookies, in case you need it.”
“You are so kind. I appreciate that,” said Roman, his deep brown eyes shifting downwards shyly. The subtle action did something to her, compelling her to utter next,
“Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having Cajun chicken pasta and Caesar salad,” she spoke up, ignoring the look Gemini leveled at her. It was the way his eyes softened right away, clearly touched by her gesture, that let her know she did the right thing.
“I’d love to.” His smile lit up the room, warming Ivy’s heart. This was her house. She could invite anyone she wanted. Attraction aside, Roman seemed like a really sweet guy that just needed new friends in this new town.
In no time though, he and Zaia became fast friends, discussing everything from their favorite cartoons and hobbies to their favorite subjects at school, and the rather funnier topic of why the adults could have wine and she couldn’t. Even Gemini seemed to warm up to him over the course of dinner, also seduced by his charm and wit. Watching them all talking and laughing caused a funny sensation to stir within Ivy, but she banished any wayward thoughts before they had the chance to settle.
Afterwards, Roman began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Ivy to rush over before he could move too far. “Er, no booboo. You’re a guest here.” She turned to her daughter. "Baby, why don't you take your fruit salads to the living room and turn on the TV for Mr Roman?” she suggested.
“Yes, ma’am! Come on, Mr Roman.” Zaia’s little fingers closed around his thick forearm, Roman briefly glancing back at her mother as he was all but dragged away, Ivy simply giving him a reassuring smile as they disappeared from the kitchen.
“You like him.”
Never one to beat around the bush, was she? Gemini’s words shook Ivy inwardly as she fought to maintain a poker face. “Girl, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days.”
“And he likes you,” Gemini continued, easily rebuffing her lame excuses. “I saw the way y’all kept looking at each other, you giggling like a damn school girl at his jokes. You could cut the tension with a damn steak knife. I wonder how Angelo’s gonna feel about that.”
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about Angelo’s feelings?”
“Never. But I bet he’d combust into flames if he was here,” Gemini smiled evilly.
Sighing heavily, Ivy loaded the last plate in the dishwasher. “Do you know he got into it with Roman on the first day? A whole shouting match. Barely twenty-four hours since the new neighbor moved in and he’s already fighting the guy. This was just me kinda trying to make up for it.”
“What?! I’d love to see that fight. My money’s on the dude that looks like a linebacker.” The stretch of silence that followed was ominous, and Ivy could already forecast her next words. “I’ll admit. He seems…nice. Sexy as hell. Charming and all that shit. But I need you to be careful, hun. There's an energy about him that I can’t put my finger on.”
Unsure she was ready for this lecture, Ivy rubbed her temples. “Judgmental much? You only just met him.”
“I’m good at reading people. You know this.”
“And I’m just being a good neighbor. You know this.”
“I do. You can’t help yourself, my sweet, wonderful bestie,” Gemini playfully nudged her friend with her shoulder. “But don’t forget you have a young daughter to look out for. I don’t want either of you to get hurt by getting too close too fast.”
Taking in a calming breath, Ivy spoke again, slow and measured to keep the peace. “Gem. I love you and I appreciate you always. But I’ll be okay. I promise,” she answered, her eyes shining with resolve.
As the two women continued to gossip, Roman stood silently by the entrance of the kitchen, his expression unreadable as he listened to every word.
Another long, tough week segued to another weekend of needed rest which found Ivy relaxing in her newly purchased hanging daybed, watching her daughter and her puppy play together as 2000s R&B tunes wafted through the Bluetooth speakers stationed in her backyard. However, her watchful eye was a bit distracted today as it kept glancing over her picket fence for any sign of Roman, who seemed to have vanished without a trace in the past few days. His outdoor chairs remained unoccupied, no coffee mug on his side tables, the house as quiet and empty as it was before he moved in. The serial killer discourse with Gemini and the feedback from the Neighborhood Watch had her feeling slightly more agitated these days, and as absurd as it was, she found herself hoping that her new neighbor hadn’t suffered the same fate as Rhea…
There was no need to worry. Maybe he was caught up with work, or was away visiting friends or family. Either way, she found herself missing his looming yet comforting presence, missed seeing the crinkles around his eyes that accompanied his sunny smile, longed for the longing glances they’d shared far too many times to count now...
Blowing out her cheeks, she leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping to clear her head. For someone who she just met, he was on the brain way too much. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. At all.
“Hi Mr Roman!”
Zaia’s excited voice, as well as the deep one that followed her daughter’s greeting, startled her from her thoughts as her eyes flew back open, landing on his big frame as he stood at the fence that separated their homes. Ivy rose to her feet, trying to ignore the relief, excitement and nervousness bubbling inside her as she approached him slowly, their eyes locked. Other than the bags forming under his irises, he was still as handsome as ever, his cable-knit sweater and dark jeans giving off that polished, modelesque aesthetic she’d become accustomed to.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he said to her, the sound of his voice deep and soothing and sorely missed.
“Hey, stranger. Been a minute. Are you okay?” she asked, getting her answer from the way he dragged a big hand down his face with a loaded sigh. She noticed the bandage was gone. “How’s your hand?”
“Good as new.” Roman lifted his now bare hand and rotated it for emphasis. “As for my absence, just work stuff. Back-to-back late hours. It be like that sometimes. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” He met her stare with a knowing smile, the same smile that made her swoon since the day they first met, and not the first time had her averting her gaze, tugging coyly at the hem of her retro Backstreet Boys t-shirt.
“I never got to properly thank you for dinner, and for the cookie recipe,” he continued, “It was a big hit at the office, everyone loved it.”
Ivy beamed. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I’m glad to hear that.”
“Man, you saved my ass, that’s for sure. You’ve been so wonderful to me, Ivy, and I was hoping I could repay it by taking you out to dinner sometime.” Gauging her raised eyebrows, he chuckled softly as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Ay, I woulda stayed home and cooked somethin’, but my skills could never measure up to yours or my wife’s.”
Wife.
This was the first time he’d mentioned a spouse of any kind. There was no ring on his finger, so there was a story there, one she felt compelled to know more about.
“Your wife…Is she not here with you?” she asked, treading lightly on what she could already tell was a sensitive subject.
Roman was silent for a moment, then when he spoke again, his voice was a little more than a hoarse whisper. “Nah, she isn't. She, uh, passed away last year.”
That explained it. The haunted expression she perceived lurking behind the vibrance of his eyes. Carrying the burden of grief and heartbreak that she empathized with more than he would ever know. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Clearing his throat, he managed a nod, returning the sincere look she gave him. “Thanks. It’s been…rough, to say the least. But I’m hangin’ in there. One day at a time, ya know?”
He looked so sad, so worn down by opening up about his loss, and it tugged at her heartstrings. Without thinking, she reached out to rub his arm, offering him comfort, solace. When his eyes shut at her touch, she feared she had toed a line, crossed it, even. Until he opened them again, the sadness wiped away by a searing heat she felt in her bones. Her heart raced as he shifted their hands to link their fingers together, sending a defibrillator’s worth of electricity through her curvy figure. Fuck. He was looking at her that way again. All intense and serious and sexy and all sorts of tempting. She didn’t want him to ever look away.
There was no denying the mutual attraction that simmered between them. It was clear as day. But it was also clear that he was still grieving and was lonely and craved some semblance of comfort. Yet, she found herself wanting to give him that comfort. She wanted to get to know him. She wanted to jump over the fence and into his sturdy arms, wanted to kiss those soft-looking lips of his. To know what his hair felt like between her fingers…
How she missed it, she wasn’t sure. The roar of the engine of the Lexus pulling into the driveway, the owner of the vehicle storming through her house. She’d been so lost in Roman and in his aura and the intimate moment they were sharing that she hadn’t even heard Angelo barreling into her home like he always did until he was standing in front of them. Her deer-in-the-headlights countenance could not have helped her cause as Angelo looked from her to Roman and then back again, zoning in on their entwined hands, the bewilderment on his face giving way to blind wrath.
“Motherfucker, I thought I told you to stay away from my girl!” Swiping Ivy aside with enough force to send her crashing against the fence, he shoved Roman hard in the chest, knocking him a few steps back. “Oh I see what this is! You wanna fuck my woman, huh?”
“Angelo stop!” Ivy yelled as in the distance, Zaia began to cry. Grimacing through her pain, she tugged him by the arm and dragged him forcibly away, which was a tough task as he was nearly a foot taller than her, outweighed her by a good fifty pounds and vibrated with misplaced rage. Glancing behind her, she watched with an almost morbid fascination as Roman’s disposition completely shifted, his gorgeous face twisted with unbridled fury.
“You put your fucking hands on me?!” In what seemed like slow motion, the much bigger and much taller man leapt smoothly over her fence like it was nothing. He propelled forwards with long strides like an angry bull across her backyard and into her house in a matter of seconds. “A’ight, I’m tired of being humble! You wanna fuss like a lil’ bitch, let’s go!”
Guiding Zaia and Duchess to safety, Ivy’s anxiety reached a fever pitch as the two men stood literally nose to nose sizing each other up in the middle of her living room. “Guys, please! Zaia’s here!” she pleaded.
Angelo puffed out his chest as he eyeballed his adversary smugly. “Don’t get yourself hurt cuz you tryna comfort my bitch or my kid when I ain’t around. You in my house, fool,” he threatened.
Thick eyebrows raised in cruel amusement, Roman looked around the house. “Funny, I don’t see your name or your face anywhere.” He leaned in closer, his next words loud enough for only the other man to hear, “But pretty soon, your bitch gon’ be screamin’ my name and sittin’ on my face,” he bragged, pointing at his chin, hoping, praying that the punk bitch would take the bait.
Too easy.
With teeth bared, Angelo swung at him. Wildly and carelessly enough for Roman to dodge easily and retaliate with his huge fist smashing into the other man’s face. There was an ugly cracking sound, and blood spurted from Angelo’s nose as his head snapped back and he stumbled backwards.
“Stop it! Stop it right now!” Ivy cried, but it was to no avail as Angelo lunged again, crashing into Roman. She threw herself between them, trying and woefully failing to pull the warring men apart who were seeing nothing but red as they beat the crap out of each other.
“Daddy, stop fighting! You’re gonna hurt Mama!”
Zaia, bless her brave little heart, was at her father’s side, tugging desperately on his sleeve. It all happened so fast, Ivy only able to see the moment Angelo lashed out blindly, his hand smacking Zaia right in the face. Her scream of pain as her little body collapsed on the ground pierced the air, plunging the room into stone cold silence.
“Mama!” Zaia burst into fresh tears as she clutched her face with one hand, the other reaching out to Ivy who quickly rushed over, scooping her into her arms and gently cradling her little head as she wailed loudly and clutched at Ivy for dear life.
A bloodied Angelo clambered to his feet, visibly devastated by his mistake. “Baby…Princess, I’m so sorry…Daddy didn't mean—”
“No! Don’t touch her!” Ivy snapped, backing away. Enough was enough. “I told you to stop. I told you!” Grasping her baby carefully, she glowered at him through unshed tears of anger. “Get the fuck out of my house! Now!” she hissed.
Swallowing hard, Angelo edged forwards again, his eyes full of regret and focused on his daughter sobbing into her mother's shoulder. “Zaia-”
“I said get out!” Ivy shouted again, feeling for the first time in a long time, nothing but disgust towards her ex-boyfriend. “I’ve had enough of your childish bullshit, enough of you!” She hated cursing in front of her baby girl, but her father had pushed her to her absolute limit. “Leave and never come back. You’re not welcome here anymore.” He could perform his fatherly duties from across town. Today was the last day he was setting foot in this house.
Stunned, his face contorted indignantly at her words. “You playin’, right? You seriously gonna do this? It was an accident! Zaia, come here. Come to Daddy,” He extended his hands towards his daughter, his features sagging in dismay when she burrowed deeper into Ivy’s bosom, refusing to look at her dad as her sniffles intensified.
“She asked you to leave. Several times.” Roman towered over Angelo menacingly, his big body shielding Ivy and Zaia. “Don’t make her repeat it again.”
Angelo tilted his chin defiantly. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you deal with me. I’ll be happy to whoop your ass again,” Roman said simply, silently daring the son of a bitch to make a wrong move.
“Baby, you trippin’. That’s my daughter! This meathead nigga needs to know that he’s oversteppin’! You’re mine!”
“No I’m not!” Her reply was cold and exhausted. “We’ve been over for years, Angelo! Get that into your thick skull and get out of my life!”
Scoffing snidely, the man’s blood-stained sneer was a frightening visual as he walked backwards out the front door, talking his shit on his way to his car. “You’re not keepin’ me away from my child. You need me, Ivy. You’ll come crawling back,” he growled, then pointed angrily at Roman, “And whoever the fuck you think your bitch ass is, bet, I’mma see about you...”
Roman stood in the driveway, muscular arms crossed over his torn, blood-stained sweater, watching like a hawk as the piece of shit backed out onto the road and drove off. He looked down at Ivy to his left. “Are you oka-”
But she had already retreated into the safety of her house, slamming the door shut. Roman returned his attention to the Lexus driving down the street, silently vowing that today would be the last time Angelo would ever be seen again.
Thanks for reading and thanks again to this anon for the story idea. Your replies and reblogs would be much appreciated if you enjoyed!
Featuring: Roman Reigns x Fem Black Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, and Roman being a bit of a sub because we love giant, mean men who are only soft and sweet for you. 🥹
Happy reading! Read more of my Roman fics here, if you'd like! ✨
There was something beautiful about humbling a man, a big man like him, putting him in his place. A place that he was happy to be in, no less. On his knees, between her legs, and begging for what he wanted because he knew even with his strength and size, he couldn’t just take it. He had to ask for permission.
“Why you gotta tease me?” he asked instead after a while of his begging went ungranted. His tone husky, low, nothing short of a stubborn huff as she slipped her fingers through the loose, long crop of hair atop his head. Her thumb caressed down the side of his face, gathered in her hand to grip the thick, grayish beard he'd been growing out and trying to make messy with her wet that his lips hovered near. Dark eyes hovered, too, first on the pretty, pink, sweet thing he so badly wanted to taste, before they flooded up the swells of her delicious body laid before him.
“Why you gotta be so greedy?” she asked back, a soft smile on her plump lips as she looked down at him. All those muscles bulging from the width of his shoulders, the large curves of his biceps, and his big, handsome head between her thighs that kept them spread...and yet he didn’t shove his way through to her pussy. Because he was a good boy who listened well. His hands were curled into the sheets at her sides where she commanded they remain instead of on her as if he held her with those strong fingers smoothing wide and firm over her hips, they'd cinch to keep her in his grasp, those long fingers eventually finding their way to curl inside of her before she was ready to cum. Something Roman craved to lap up with his tongue, she could damn near see the drool in his mouth when he went to speak again.
“Think I've waited long enough to eat, baby,” he said quietly as she massaged his scalp in big, slow circles. A groan just as quiet seeped out of him, perhaps from his impatience but likely from her touch. Her other hand was free to massage and touch herself, her red, coffin nails glistening and delicate fingers sticky with her wet that she only allowed him to admire the sight of as she swept a lone fingertip along her clit. She groaned back, a fleeting, little whine as the warmth of that good stroke simmered through her, Roman's breath rolling over her warm, too, somewhat of a soft kiss to her pussy that he was huffing and all but pleading to devour.
“Just watch me. Enjoy the show,” she smirked before she moaned again, hips tilting up ever so slightly with a flutter of her pussy she caught with the swirl of her finger, watching him watch with his eyebrows weaving together like he felt that flutter, too. Like it felt good to him, listening to him pant with desire to be the one who made her flutter, to be the one who sipped on the string of wet that flutter made drip down to her satin sheets.
But she knew what patience and control could do to the mind, the body. The will bended and shaped to satisfy time before pleasure, that time rewarding the pleasure that builds and ebbs and flows until it runneth over. Roman let his dull nails rasp at the sheets, restlessness whitening his knuckles, white teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he studied the art of her playing with her pussy in small doses, feathered rubs and taps, nothing that would push her over the edge. That was his job tonight, the duty of his tongue that slid from between his lips to lick at them before he puckered them together for a swift, trembling kiss to the backs of her fingers. Another silent plea before his words came out kind of strained with a hoarse laugh.
“Just one lick, baby. I’m dyin’ here.”
“No.” She lifted that finger that dribbled with her essence and made a slight trace on his full, soft lips with it until it became his favorite flavor of gloss, his tongue darting out before she yanked at his silken hair, tugging back to expose his Adam's apple shift in a gulp and breathy moan. She almost giggled in his face. What a needy, little, big man.
And while she was needy for him, too, she wanted him to not eat her like a starving man but like a distinguished gentleman who knew the delicacy of his meal was meant to be savored, experienced. She gazed into his eyes as he gazed back, that demand no secret between them yet she clarified once again as she pulled at the root of his hair, heard him grunt, and declared, “You'll eat this pussy when I say so...got it?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Roman uttered quickly, a gruff, tiny stutter of a chuckle escaping him. Something to shake off how badly it turned him on for a small woman like her telling him what to do, she was sure of it. She released him with a soothing of her fingers through his hair again, observed him nuzzling the crown of his head to her palm with his eyes closed before she made them pop open with her fingertips to his lips again, beckoning him to open. He understood to do it carefully, allow her to guide her fingers over his moist tongue, glide her wet along it, let her chin fall in a single nod so he could suckle his lips around her, tongue soft and waxing between her fingers to clean every crook of her flavor from them for him to swallow. His eyes almost faltered shut again, relishing in her as she expected to see, and she knew right then that he was ready.
With a bite of her lip as she adjusted beneath him, thick thighs laid flat on the bed, cool air grazing her valley of heat that Roman's eyes feasted on as she arched her back just so and mumbled sweetly, “Eat, baby,” he finally dipped his head down.
Steady eyes still fixed on her, seeking her approval, as his tongue fixed flat with a press to her pussy, a slow thrust in, a couple shallow, long flicks, if only to feel her throb, before he licked up to mimic those feathered rubs and taps along her clit with the widened tip of it. Roman was careful to pull back slightly when she whimpered from a flutter he caught with an even slower lick as his massive hands settled onto her waist, gripping tight until the fine hairs of his mustache caressed her skin along with his lips smudged to her, tongue easily slipping from side to side to taste every groove of and around her clit.
A warmth that sparked like fire shot through her, shooting a moan from her throat that Roman echoed as he purred with relief into her. Such a mighty man humbled and pleased to please her, it felt right. Heavy strokes of his tongue that followed the whispery sound of her pleasure, followed by the whisper of his fingertips as he trailed them down the outer lips of her soft, soaked pussy. Coy pushes until he seated two of them knuckle deep, a complement to his tongue seated on her sweet spot that tingled with the flames of a potent and close orgasm.
She petted his head, quivering thumb at his cheek to skim as he observed her subtly shake, subtly cry to him, “Mmnn, fuck...that's a good boy.”
. . .
Humbled, Part 2
Thanks for reading! This isn't wasn't intended as a direct sequel to Humbled, but the vibes are the same and it fit so why not?! Join my tag list here, if you wanna. ❤️
🫶🏾 Tag list: @msbigredmachine @visionarymode @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37
Warnings: 3k+ Words & Adultery. *Please read my Author’s Note at the end! Thanks and I hope you enjoy!
1st Stage of Infidelity: Intuition
Something about Okoye’s call rang very strange to Sariah but her initial reaction was to shrug it off and she looked back over at her baby boy.
“You got it Aasir!” She cheered him on as Ayo threw a mock punch and he caught it.
“Good job baby!”
He looked over and smiled at her, he looked so much like T'Challa it was ridiculous.
“Watch out!” She called but Ayo side swept him and he fell. He was dazed but like the little warrior he was he got back up, making her clap and smile.
“Baba is going to be so proud of you!” She called out.
***
“So where are you from, entle?” T’Challa asked the flushed young woman, draped in his sheets.
“I’m from West London but I originally lived in Romania with my parents. My dad was a military man, met my mom and they had me.”
“Interesting.” He traced her skin and she shivered.
"Stop it Challa! My legs are already sore.“ He chuckled and pulled her in.
"I know a good remedy for that.” Grabbing her hands, he lifted her up, making her squeal as he carried her to the bathroom.
“How did I ever get lucky by meeting a man like you?” She asked as she rubbed the sponge on her body. He didn’t answer, he was just taking her all in as she sat between his legs-seeping in the hot bathtub.
She looked back at his lustful gaze, “You want to help?”
He nodded and took the sponge out of her hand and began washing her slowly as she moaned, “That feels amazing.”
“It does, eh?” He scooted closer to her, so that his chest was touching her back. He began to place kisses on her small delicate shoulders.
What was it about her that made him commit this terrible act? Was his ass going through a midlife crisis? She made him feel young, well younger he admitted to himself.
After their long bath, he helped her back to the bedroom. “Shit, I don’t have any clothes. I left them in my room.”
“No worries my love, just give me your room key and I,”
Little did he know that his personal guard had been standing at the door, frozen for nearly 2 hours. Too ashamed to move. Okoye finally burst through the door after hearing enough.
“OKOYE!” He shouted.
“Who the hell is this?” Michelle jumped and covered herself back up.
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” Okoye shouted.
“Ukuma phantsi!” She stiffened at her command but never took her eyes off the woman, “My King-”
“Woah, you’re a King?”
He nodded and smiled, “Yes.”
JACKPOT, Michelle thought. Her mind ran wild with the possibilities. Not only was he rich, he was royalty.
“And a married man and a father!” Okoye felt anger welling up inside of her. She had sworn to protect T'Challa and his family but she didn’t sign up for this.
Hello all! This is the Prelude/Intro to my Lemonade series based off Beyonce’s album of the same name. Each title will reflect and capture the essence of each song as we read through the stages of T’Challa’s infidelity. All songs will be used except for Freedom and Formation.
Please bear with me as I really want to do each song/chapter justice to capture the real raw emotion of adultery through the eyes of the person being cheated on.
Warnings: Adultery, 2.3k, & minor smut….
*Timeline takes place over the course of a few months or so
Song reference: Say No To This- Hamilton
in·fi·del·i·ty (noun): the action or state of being unfaithful to a spouse or other sexual partner.
A cool calm breeze wiped over the royal court as they all made their way down to the landing pad. Aasir, the young Prince of Wakanda, skipped playfully around his personal Milaje.
Light chatter occupied Shuri and Queen Mother while Sariah tried to make sense of how distant T’Challa had been as of late. While their hands were connected, the spark wasn’t there.
“So do you think you’ll get through to them on the new-” She stopped mid sentence after she noticed a change in his demeanor.
“I do not wish to talk about it, Ikumkani.” Stopping, he gave her a faint smile and let go of her hand.
The group stopped just a few feet away from the Royal Talon, “Come my son.” Ramonda smiled with open arms, urging her oldest to give her a hug.
“Get back safe, brother.” Shuri struggled to get out of his embrace as he playfully picked her up and twirled her around.
“Let go, idiot!”
Chuckling, he placed the Princess on her feet, he straightened up to approached Sariah.
Her petite hands softly caressed his cheek before standing on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his lips, “I love you.”
