by Tia Sirrah
Conner wore dark denim jeans and a long-sleeve black henley, with his sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms. His unruly mane was loosely finger-combed back, just the way I liked it.
"It smells great in here. What’s for dinner?"
"Sausage and chicken jambalaya, my great grandmother’s recipe. For dessert, I made a whiskey bread pudding." I headed to the stove to check on the jambalaya before turning back to him. "Would you like a glass of wine?" Conner was standing in front of the mantel, holding a framed picture of Amy and me. We were about fourteen years old in the photo, posing with Minnie Mouse ears on, in front of Disneyland’s Sleeping Beauty Castle.
"Sure." He put the picture back on the mantel before joining me in the kitchen.
I stepped onto a footstool, attempting to reach for wine glasses in the upper cabinet.
"Here, let me help you." His voice was directly behind me. His close proximity to my back sent shivers down my spine. Calm down, Novalee. Conner reached up and retrieved two wine glasses. The scent of his cologne caused me to discreetly breathe him in, while momentarily closing my eyes.
"Thanks. Short girl problems." I stepped off the stool, now eye level to his chest. I reached out and touched his smooth cheek with the palm of my hand. I needed to feel his skin. "I like this. You almost look like a gentleman."
"We wouldn’t want that, now would we?" He kissed the inside palm of my hand. "Turn around. I have something for you."
"So bossy," I said, a smirk on my lips. He arched a brow, and I did as he commanded and turned around.
His body pressed against mine, allowing me to feel every part of him. I snuggled back into the warmth of his body. I wanted him, but I’d already decided that I was not going to sleep with him tonight. Although my body was all in, my mind told me that we were not ready.
"Pull your hair up," he softly commanded. I obliged, and he placed a translucid, violet gemstone pendant necklace around my neck and fastened it. His fingertips brushed the nape of my neck.
"This is beautiful! I’m not familiar with this particular stone." I rubbed the smooth stone between my thumb and pointer finger. It was weighted, the diameter of the rock larger than a nickel.
"It’s a Taaffeite stone. It’s one of the rarest gemstones in the world. It’s considered to be a million times rarer than a diamond." The pendant was secured around my neck by a thin black leather cord.
"I love it," I beamed and turned to face him.
A few gentle smooches quickly transformed into longer sensual kisses, which led to heated erotic tongue strokes.
I moaned in his mouth as he squeezed my backside. "You ready to eat?" I managed to say between kisses.
He arched a brow, a mischievous gleam brewing in his eyes.
"Dinner, Conner," I emphasized, a smile splitting across my face.
"Dinner. Right," he smirked. I stood on my tippy toes and kissed him once more.
He gathered the wine glasses, a corkscrew, and the chilled white wine from the fridge. He poured wine into our glasses, and I prepared our plates.
I watched with anticipation as he put a spoonful of jambalaya into his delectable mouth.
"This is the best damn jambalaya I’ve ever tasted," he said, before taking another spoonful.
Pride swelled in my chest. I beamed and dug in.
After our main course, I brought out the whiskey bread pudding and garnished it with powdered sugar. I placed Conner’s dessert in front of him, and he pulled me onto his lap. I brought the spoon up to his mouth and fed him. Seductively, I dabbed a bit of bread pudding across his lips with his spoon, before running my tongue along the seam of his mouth. He repaid me by smearing a morsel of the bread pudding on my collarbone and down my low neckline before licking it off.
After dessert and our sugary make-out session, we decided to head out to my balcony. We stood side by side against the balcony railing, each sipping on a glass of white wine. A comfortable silence sat between us, and a calm settled over me. Yesterday’s conversation kept replaying in my mind, making me aroused, intrigued, and melancholy, all at the same time.
After finishing our wine, he took my wine glass from me and placed them both on a side table. "I don’t want to fuck this up," he said, as we turned to face one another. Instinctively, I pressed my body up against his, splaying my palms across his hard chest, and tipped my head back to look up at him. I was torn between focusing on his lips, his eyes, or the entire compass of his face, as he spoke. "It’s taking every fiber in my being not to bend you over this railing and fuck you until you cum." I clenched my thighs at his confession. "But I’m trying to show you that I’m here for the long haul and not for just a quick lay." He’d just addressed my fears head-on. My worst fear was us having sex, and in the end, him treating me like he treated the others. It would utterly wreck me.
"I appreciate you saying that." Your track record intimidates the hell out of me. What if I’m not good enough? Pressing my lips to his, I parted his mouth with the gentle coaxing of my tongue.
"So damn beautiful," he murmured into my mouth, as he cradled the sides of my face with his large hands.
It seemed a bit surreal, how safe I felt Conner. He was flawed, but who wasn’t? He had secrets. Was potentially a sex addict. And based on last night, he possibly had a drinking problem. He was undoubtedly an arrogant rich asshole. He was bossy and rude to strangers. I knew my father would never approve of him. But over the last month, he’d inched his way into my heart in a way that no one ever had. After Marcus and I stopping sleeping with each other, I realized that mediocre companionship was not for me. I vowed to stay single until the one found me. I just never imagined he would come packaged as Conner Brathwaite.
My nerve endings sizzled as we kissed, and my panties grew damp. "Conner," I moaned into his mouth. "Are you sure? I mean, really sure that you want to do this?" I wanted…no, I needed to be sure that he wanted this. Wanted us. I could get lost in this man. I wanted to give him a way out before I fell head over heels in love with him.
His expression softened. "I’m sure." He brushed his lips against my forehead. "I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. Just give me a chance. I know you’re much too good for me. Fuck. I don’t even deserve you." He avoided eye contact with me momentarily and focused his eyes downward at our joined hands. "I’m selfish. I told you that. You’re so innocent. So pure. You don’t have an evil bone in your body. And I’ve done terrible things in my life. But maybe… maybe, this is my redemption. Meeting you." I searched his pained face, silently beckoning him to look at me. And he did. His eyes were a bright, brilliant green. "I didn’t expect this. Didn’t even want it. But now, I fucking need it, like I need air."
I looked up at Conner and thought to myself, I’m a goner. This will probably end badly. My heart had already been broken. Endured enough pain to last a lifetime. Yet here I was, willing to put it all on the line, all over again.
Conner looked down at me with rare vulnerability in his eyes. Yep, this was so going to happen, and I wouldn’t fight it. I was tired of trying to please everyone but myself. I tried to please Keisha, craving a nurturing relationship with her that I never got. I tried to please my parents, never wanting them to regret taking me in. I tried to please Andre, being a ride or die chick, forcing my heart to catch up with my head. Conner said he was selfish. I envied that. I wanted to be selfish, for once.
The differences between us were evident. I knew those around us would stare and speculate. Conner was perceived as a southern billionaire from a prestigious wealthy family. At twenty-seven, it was only a matter of time before he would quit his playboy "citified" ways and marry a woman of like-mind and of the same ethnic background. She would be an upstanding socialite with the proper pedigree and plenty of zeros behind her family fortune.
I, on the other hand, was the daughter of an educated elite black family but was finding myself, my big hair and nose piercing the talk of our small circle. The plan for me was to trade in my hippy dresses for a Donna Karan one. I w
ould replace my nose piercing for a pearl necklace. I would tame my curls into silken tresses. I would eventually settle down with an IBM – ideal black man, someone picked explicitly by my parents.
Yet, here we were. Our two worlds were colliding, and I couldn’t be more game.
Marsha Ambrosius’ Lose Myself crooned from the speakers inside my apartment. "My want for you is so intense, and it scares the hell out of me." The words spilled out of my mouth, unbridled. "This is all so new and so unexpected." Our bodies were close, so close that I could feel the outline of his muscular chest and the ridges of his abs.
"I’m all in. I want everyone to know," he said with resolve.
That’s all I needed to hear, apparently. I fisted Conner’s shirt and kissed him hard, expressing all the things I felt for him but was not yet ready to say. So lost in our kiss, I was caught off guard when he effortlessly swooped me up in his arms. Never once did our mouths separate, as he carried me back inside and laid me on my sofa.
Conner was now on top of me, and I eagerly wrapped my legs around his waist. My hands roamed underneath his shirt, my nails scraping along his muscular back. Conner traced kisses from my throat, to my collarbone, to the swells of my breasts.
"I won’t take this all the way. I know you’re not ready," he said, the deep timbers of his voice provoking me on to ground my center against the swell of his cock.
I nodded, relieved that he understood. "But I want to feel my skin against yours." My voice sounded needy and breathless to my own ears.
He expertly unwrapped my dress, exposing my bare skin. I was braless. Only a black barely-there thong covered my sex. "You’re beautiful," Conner said, as he looked down at me.
"I... I know they’re probably not as big as you’re used to."
"Don’t do that. You’re perfect," he reinterred. He looked at me with so much desire, my womb clenched. I grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, revealing a sculpted six-pack, hard pectorals, and muscles wrapped around his shoulders and arms. Oh. My. Goodness. He was truly drool-worthy.
"Ah, God!" I cried out, as his hot mouth enveloped my nipple. He was needy with my breasts, as if feasting on his last meal. He swirled and flicked his tongue against my nipples, showering both breasts with equal attention.
"So fucking hot," he growled.
His erection was straining against his jeans, digging into my center. A tiny bit of fear and a whole lot of excitement bit at my core, at the sheer size of it. It felt massive, even while restrained underneath his denim.
I gripped the locks of his hair and pulled him back up to my mouth. I kissed him hungrily as we ground our centers against each other. My panties were soaked, as were the insides of my thighs. As we kissed, he slowly trailed his fingers down my stomach. His hand stopped at the waistband of my panties, as if he were waiting for permission. I guided his hand underneath the cotton barrier and onto my sex.
"You’re so fucking wet," he groaned, as he moved his hand to my entrance. I spread my thighs wide, wordlessly begging for his touch. Without further hesitation, he thrust three long fingers inside of me, all at once. I gasped in shock, as he pushed his fingers in and out of me with reckless abandonment.
My body bucked, meeting his hand with the thrust of my hips. His other hand twined around my curls, pulling my head back hard, but not to the point of pain. "Look at me while I fuck you with my fingers." His cold, commanding voice sent erotic shivers down my spine. He bent his fingers, hooking them to meet my g-spot. My eyes rolled back in my head before I snapped them back to him, as he yanked my hair again, this time with more bite.
I watched him through hooded eyes as he pushed me over the edge. I screamed out his name as the pad of his thumb massaged my tiny bundle of nerves. I came undone and clenched around his long fingers.
Our tongues erotically mingled as he withdrew his fingers from me. He brought his wet hand up to our kiss, separating his tongue from mine, so that he could lick my juices off two of his fingers, before inserting his third finger inside of my mouth. "Your pussy is so fucking sweet. Taste it," he demanded. His wish was my command, as I sucked his finger and seductively swiped my tongue around it.
His cock felt as if it was going to burst through his zipper. He looked pained, as he pressed his forehead against mine and firmly gripped my hips, prohibiting me from grinding into him any longer. He gathered his breaths as if willing himself not to cum, which really swelled my ego. Our noses and lips gently swiped across each other's faces, as I came down from my orgasm.
"What you fucking do to me, angel," he uttered in a low whisper, before caressing my face with soft kisses. I pressed my body into his, and he moaned in my mouth.
He supported himself on his forearms as he looked down at me, stroking the sides of my face. "I better go." He hesitantly raised off me and wrapped my opened dress across my breasts. I held my arm up to keep my haphazardly wrapped dress in place and blew stray curls out of my face. "Yeah," he drawled as his piercing eyes took me in. "I need to leave. Now."
I sighed regrettably as he pulled his shirt back on. I immediately missed his touch, his closeness. I secured the tie of my dress and said, "It’s late. Do you want to stay the night?"
He hesitated, as if really giving it some thought. Please say yes. "I don’t think that’s a good idea."
"I’ll be good." I chewed on my lip, and I ran my fingers along his arm.
"I won’t." The words tumbled out without hesitation. "If I stay here," he added, as I planted gentle kisses along his jaw, "we’re going to fuck, all night. I’m going to do things to you that will have you blushing for weeks." I froze my kisses. "You’re not ready. We’re not ready for that. I’m trying to prove to you that this is different. You’re different."
"I’m sorry," I murmured into his neck. "I’m the worst." I didn’t want to be a tease. I sat beside him with my back against the couch. He leaned into me and planted a kiss on my lips. It started off as a sweet and gentle kiss but quickly turned into a sensual and erotic one.
"I’d better go," he said against my lips, before rising from the couch.
I nodded. "Okay." My lady parts were screaming at me.
"Come here," he said, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me up to stand in front of him. I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I’ll call you tomorrow."
"You do that," I said, before walking him to the door.
We said our goodbyes with a few more kisses before he left into the night.
Chapter 6
I FIRED OFF A TEXT while leaving Conner’s office.
Novalee, 1:41pm
Running late. Will be there in 20.
I looked up and found Conner’s receptionist, Lydia, curiously staring at me. For the last two days, I met Conner in his office for lunch. Let me clarify. He had lunch. What was on the menu? Me. On Monday, he bent me over his desk and feasted on my sex from behind. On Tuesday, I straddled his face as he laid back on his sofa, all while he fingered my asshole.
My moans were stifled with his tie shoved in my mouth, so no one was the wiser. But I left his office thoroughly flustered and red as a beet. Based on Lydia’s speculate stare, I’m sure she was privy to our little rendezvous. "Bye, Lydia." I smiled faintly, too embarrassed to make eye contact with her. As I walked the hall of shame, I wondered how many others had walked the same hall after having lunch with Conner.
"Goodbye, Miss Dumont." Lydia smiled. Today she was polite, her previous condescending attitude a thing of the past.
"I’m sorry, Miss. Do you have an appointment?" Lydia asked, her tone laced with impatience. Raising an arched eyebrow, her lips formed into a smirk. Her hazel eyes skimmed over me, focusing on my septum nose piercing before looking at the rest of my ensemble - a long flowy hippy-inspired dress with a boho pattern of vibrant colors and a fringed hem. Helena would have cringed if she saw what I looked like in the sea of all the business suits that occupied Conner’s office surroundings. My curls were on their third day of a wash n go, their volume
adding a few inches in height to my short stature.
"He’s expecting me. Novalee Dumont," I coolly replied with my smile in place, even under her scrutinizing eyes.
"Mr. Conner Brathwaite is expecting you," she said as more of a statement, rather than a question. She was really trying my patience.
"Miss Dumont," a pretty brunette in a black Alexander McQueen suit called out from behind me. "It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Stephanie. Conner’s Executive Assistant." She extended her hand.
"Hi Stephanie," I beamed while shaking her hand.
"Lydia, this is Conner’s girlfriend, Miss Novalee Dumont." The look on Lydia’s face was priceless. She blinked twice, as if to compose herself, before smiling tightly.
"Oh, yes. Of course. You’re Miss Dumont." She appeared flustered as Stephanie ever so slightly narrowed her eyes at her.
"Have you been waiting here long?" Stephanie asked, returning her focus to me.
"No, actually. Lydia was just about to check me in." Turning my attention back to Lydia, her features relaxed, and she smiled brightly at me.
"Great. I’ll show you to his office."
What a difference a day made.
∞∞∞
"NOVALEE!" AMY CALLED OUT as she rushed towards me through the sea of people. We met at a street fair, not too far from Conner’s downtown Houston office. "Oh, my goodness! I’ve missed you!"
I embraced her the best I could while holding two lemonades. "I missed you, too!"
"You look beautiful as always, Novalee!" She stepped back, giving me a once over. "You’re glowing," Amy said enthusiastically, before linking her arm with mine. We headed over to a shaded park bench. I handed her a lemonade. "So, what gives? How could you not tell me about you and Conner? You two are a couple now?"
"How do you already know this? I was planning on telling you today." Amy and Quentin had returned from Lake Como, Italy, a couple of days ago. I didn’t want to tell her about it over text, and that had been the only method of communication between us over the last month.