by Love Belvin
“Oh!” I croaked when my groin quickened.
Sadik’s fingertips dug into me with uncompromising pressure to keep me in place. The sound of Dog barking in the yard while I tried to sleep one night rolled to the front of my brain. I shivered under my blanket that night, struggling to go out and see about his safety versus staying in bed relishing mine. I used that animal to protect me, all to have him shot for simply doing his job.
I began pelting back into him, meeting his vicious plunges. Then the memory of sitting in that old B-Way Burger, tied to that chair and regaining my consciousness. The recollection of his velvety alto when I heard him declare, “Shhh, baby. It’s me, Nalib.”
My nipples tightened even more over the mattress. My roped wrists made the memory more crisp. I recalled being heavily aroused when I came through that day. His scent and formidable presence spoke to my subconsciousness. Just like that day, last August, my body responded to his commanding and capable presence without the benefit of seeing him.
Tears fell from my eyes as our thrusts collided over the mattress. That day was the first time I’d been rescued in my life. So many missed opportunities of capturing me until I encountered Sadik Qadir Ellis, the first. He was sure of me in spite of my insecurities and meltdowns. He may have been imperfect, but he’d always been clear. On me.
“Come, Nalib,” ripped from the bowels of him, awakening me from my haunted thoughts.
I felt my sex pulsing, my groin spasming around his stiffness and I released myself to the inundating pleasure.
“Sadik!” I cried with urgency rippling all around him.
My knees and trunk were lifted from the mattress, and he plummeted into me with brute dynamism. And I gave into it all, receiving his imposing ultra-alpha until I broke. The pleasure became so intense I cried. Hard. Sex isn’t always about physical connection. With the right partner, it’s very much spiritual and self-awakening.
Sadik sensed my sobbing and kissed my back as he freed me from the rope. When he pulled out of me, it didn’t improve my feeling of being broken.
“Why are you crying, Nalib?” I’d never heard his voice so gentle.
“I—I’m feeling…everything.” Including those words of declaration he’d shared with Sofia earlier tonight. Sadik had reciprocated my feelings for him.
My body trembled. He gathered me into his arms, being sure to lay off my belly. For a while, Sadik said nothing. My crying slowed and my body began to relax into the silence. I’d just have to figure it out on my own, as usual.
“Iban was a…troubled kid.” His velvety cords were so smooth, though his delivery seemed hesitant. “Although my father’s income had improved our environment by upgrading our neighborhoods a couple of times, he was addicted to the thrill of the streets. He idolized my father’s work. My mother was too busy establishing Ellis Academy to tend to him. And my father made her believe he’d been putting in the time with him. It wasn’t true. Iban got arrested more times than I can recall. He spent lots of time in juvenile detention centers.” There was a pause for an extended time, leaving me too afraid to breathe.
Then he continued, “He spent months at a time in juvie, a few times missing holidays my queen deemed important for family. But we dealt with it, supporting and loving him. My father had me believe his behavior was a symptom of his idolization of our patriarch. My mother always warned it was something more.
“Years later, when he was well into his adulthood, we noticed strange behavior. Violent bouts with the men we were training. Monica complained of him getting physical with her. She said he’d go on these rage binges for days at a time. Once, he was arrested for practice shooting in their suburban back yard. They didn’t want to let him go so easily, so bail wasn’t an option for a couple of days. While in there, Iban got into fights with inmates unprovoked. He had…episodes of rage again in there.”
I felt him tense all around me. “Our lawyers got him out. But I was livid. I felt he was, once again, out of control for no reason. So I picked him up one day and took him to a secluded field…to bust his ass if I had to. I just needed to get him back to himself. We went out there, and he resisted. I whooped his ass. It was pretty bad. We were both bloody. He banged up my eye, and I had a busted lip. I’d done far worse to him. But when it was over, it was over.”
I heard him swallow deep. “While we were laying out in the dirt, soiled and breathless, he told me something that broke me like nothing else before it.” This time, my body went rigid. I stilled, tried controlling and muting my breathing. “When he was being…detained in juvie all those years ago…” Sadik’s breathing turned harsh. “He was assaulted by the warden, a man named Hubert Jackson who was twice his size. It was, apparently, the culture for the center. The kids with the biggest personalities and sharpest tempers were disciplined by the head.”
My heart rented at the sound of Sadik’s croak. “He made my brother go down on him.” I felt his body tremble next to me. “I’d seen my brother humbled at the physical hand of our father, but never had I seen him weakened outside of our parents. Iban could hardly repeat the stories of terror that day in the field. And he shared there were more who faced assault under that sick muthafucka. Rory was one. They were locked up together once and when she fought off one of the officers, Jackson tried to humiliate her by fuckin’ her in a room full of men and boys. The fucker personified evil, and I couldn’t live in a world where the Ellis name didn’t provide protection for its own.”
I felt the same way. The Ellises doled out their own justice.
So that was Rory’s connection to Iban…
“I hugged him—hard. I felt him cry in my arms, almost not recognizing the hardest man I knew outside of my father. That night I couldn’t sleep. The following week, I couldn’t focus at work. It wasn’t until I’d come up with an airtight plan that I rested soundly. I used my scant resource, at that time, to gain information on Jackson. I shared the plan with Iban and we executed it. We found Jackson at a sex club of sorts for kids. Incidentally, Popov ran it.
“We were able to isolate Jackson one late night in a warehouse room. He was drunk with his pants down when we accosted him, but he recognized my brother. He begged for his life, sobering quickly enough. Iban and I beat the man until he was unrecognizable. It was so emotional for my brother; it consumed me to the point of stripping down to my pants to relish his revenge. I knew it would be a bloody pursuit, but actually wanted it all over me. I had him tied up to the ceiling, hanging from a rope. I beat Jackson’s ass to point of cutting busting my own knuckles.”
Sadik’s chest heaved. “At some point, Jackson was still alive, but his body barely reacted to the blows. Iban fell into an episode of sorts, sobbing and collapsing into a fetal position against the brick wall. I had a job to finish. I wouldn’t be satisfied until Hubert Jackson was dead.” He paused again. “He needed to be humiliated—even in his wake—as he’d done my brother, an Ellis man. I stripped him, pulled out my machete and carved out his lips.”
His body trembled again. “I placed his lips around his dick, pinning the soft tissue to his belly. Then I shot him in the head. When I was done, I grabbed my tools, my brother and my discarded clothes, and we got the hell out of dodge.”
I spent the next few minutes in silence, creating a visual of the event. My entire frame had chilled, too. Sadik must have felt it because he began rubbing down my arm and leg exposed to him, creating heat.
“Two days later, Jackson’s body was found. Iban began telling his former juvie mates what he’d done, leaving my name out of it. A week later, my brother was arrested for the murder. He’d told too much for the cops to ignore. My father rounded up the most competent legal team in the region. The state threw every charge they could at Iban, making him pay for my father’s reign as a drug lord. It didn’t look good for a while. It wasn’t until they found another blood type on Jackson’s corpse other than Iban’s.
“On top of that, adults and children once incarcerated in juvenile faciliti
es he ran in the state came forward with compelling complaints of sexual assault. I’d seen to that when plotting to kill Jackson. Apparently, for some reason, even more survivors were willing to come forward after proof he was dead. The prosecutors ran the blood samples found on Jackson against Iban’s to find it was an inconclusive match, at least not enough to convict. My father and I had airtight alibis for that night and were never considered to have involvement. Those two factors: the new and overwhelming allegations of Jackson’s previous assaults and the faulty blood match, provided victory to my brother’s legal team.”
“While Iban was being held after he was charged, he’d gotten into a bad fight in the county jail. He fucked up two correctional officers. The state wanted to be petty and hold him to those offenses. Our attorneys conceded, seeing how one of them would never be able to work to the capacity of a C.O. again. Iban had done that much of a number on him. With that happening, the prosecutors pushed for the lesser charge. They wouldn’t let him walk scot-free. So, he did the four years.”
It all made sense now, even though, once again, I’d totally overlooked a major detail. When I Google’d the case last summer in Macen Beach, I’d been struck by the usage of a rope. It was a detail too glaring, seeing I’d just witnessed Sadik use one on Damien in the old B-Way Burger. That was the sight that had aroused me to sick degrees.
“Why couldn’t you share this before?”
“Because it’s something we don’t discuss—not me, Iban, my parents, Monica…Rory. No one. There’s no statute of limitations on murder. The case could be reopened at any time, putting me at risk. The only reason the prosecutors didn’t target me was because of the countless people who came forward with claims of assault by Jackson. It wouldn’t have been a good look for them attempting to prosecute the victim’s brother for killing the predator. That would have opened a can of worms the state didn’t want on their plate. It’s been a weight I’ve carried for years and didn’t want to share with you.”
My head shook.
“I’ve scared you,” he murmured, fear crackling through his vocals.
I pushed my hand down to his dried cock. It swelled in my hand immediately.
I squealed lowly, “I’m sick, Sadik.”
I was. Had to be. How else could I be aroused after hearing about my lover—my protector—gruesomely murdering a man?
I fisted him several times before his face dropped to mine and he covered me in an impassioned kiss before taking me all over again.
∞26∞
I felt vacuumed into consciousness. A very pleasant and virile scent crept up my nostrils and infiltrated my brain. Heavily, my eyes rolled open and just a few feet away, the Sadiks sat at the side of the bed expectantly and unmoving. The senior’s face opened to a warm smile. Too disoriented, I couldn’t return the courtesy. My baby began to wobble in his father’s arm. If my brain wasn’t so fuzzy, I’d think he was happy to see me.
That was confirmed when Sadik let him down on his belly next to me. My baby boy’s breathing hiked, his eyes widened, and he began to babble in excitement.
Finally, I smiled. “Morning, Sadik.”
I pulled him over my chest and kissed his cherub cheek. He pulled his fist to his mouth and began to suck. Then his eyes landed on his father across from us and the sucking stopped. He studied his father then traveled his gaze over to me. My son appeared stumped at first. His dad and I exchanged a look of confusion. When the baby began to laugh, it was contagious. As if a switch was flipped, the baby’s laughter stopped and his fist was the main attraction again. That caused me to chuckle, too.
“Morning, beautiful,” Sadik’s velvety alto greeted.
My smile was involuntarily. “Good morning.”
Visions of last night into this morning began to flood my mind. Positions of eroticism, declarations of forever, and my equivocating emotional response all flashed in living color before me. I reached to clear the crust from my eyes; I’d cried so much up until just hours ago. Embarrassment blanketed me. Last night had been an event of more lows than highs.
“Are you mad at me?” my voice cracked from shame.
“For what?”
“For showing up to your meeting at City Hall unannounced.” I sat up, reclining against the headboard. “For the things I said.”
Sadik shook his head, a peace settled over him I couldn’t explain, but could feel. “My time in Julius’ cabinet isn’t long-term. He and I always knew this would be. It was only to lay a firm foundation for his work in office. Much of that was done before he was elected. Most of it has been completed.” He thumbed his bottom lips as he considered his next words. “It wasn’t a good idea for Sofia and I to work together at this point. The problem was, we’d planned so much of this before March of last year, when I finally decided to get to know you.”
Sadik playfully tried to pry the baby’s fist from his mouth. “And you weren’t unexpected last night. No one runs up on Sadik Ellis, you know that. My security escorted you over and brought you in.”
I nodded, biting my lip, considering that. “So Johnson told you where he found me?”
Sadik nodded, his eyes fixed on the baby. “I knew about your plans to see Jason, and I knew the FBI would be there to ambush you. I found out late, but was still able to have my FBI connect, Jefferson be there in case things got too overwhelming for you.” My heart stopped. The Black guy. He was Sadik’s associate! “But before I learned Jason invited them there, I did know you were up to something, booking that room. It was just a matter of waiting you out to see what you’d do with it.” An alluring smirk cracked his golden face. “I thought you bonding with the kitchen staff was you diggin’ into your Irene Ellis bag, but now, I’m not so trusting.”
I smiled, rolling my eyes. “Getting to know them was born out of boredom and simply returning to my roots. I know kitchen staff. My parents had one, and I was a part of one professionally at Michelle’s. The group Irene’s put together here is soulful and family-like.” Then a thought struck. “Please don’t punish David. He had no idea what I needed his car for.”
“Which is the only reason he’s still allowed on this estate.” Sadik’s eyes were on his son when he advised. “But I will be having a sit-down with him.”
“For what?”
“To give him an official orientation, something that hasn’t been provided because when he was hired, my parents were on mental retreats. Stacy’s been inundated with managing almost the entire domesticated staff. He slipped by her. David needs to learn the chain of command.”
“And what does that mean?”
“That my wife is the boss of me, but not him. And if he’s going to be friends with you, he needs to know how unreasonable of a husband I am.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Did he get his car back? I was supposed to park it again by midnight last night. It’s what I told Johnson when I gave him the keys before we left campus for Paterson.”
“Rory was sure to arrange for his car to be delivered to his home at a fair hour last night.
My eyes fell. “I pulled out my gun on Randi,” I muttered.
Why did I feel a morsel of guilt when in greater measure, I still felt rage at her betrayal?
Sadik held the baby in the air. “You should have. She looked horrid in your purple leather top. She made a mockery of it.” He shrugged with his lips.
“She said you killed Ricky because of her.” I held my breath.
Those feline eyes were upon me. “I’ve only killed for one woman.” His regard returned to our son. “Ricky’s death had nothing to with Randi, Nalib. It had nothing to do with me either. That was your father-in-law’s business.”
It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it in great detail. I didn’t care. As long as the reason didn’t involve Randi, I wouldn’t concern myself with it. I came so close to being a murderer. The thin line was so chillingly frightening.
“I spit in her face, too,” I felt the need to share.
“That couldn’t ha
ve been more gangster than throwing a shopping cart at a woman fighting Rory.” My eyes blossomed. Without looking at me, he hummed. “I told you, I know everything, Bilan. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me. Then I had to tell Rory I may have to fire her.”
I gasped. She said I’d be the reason he’d let her go. “Why?”
“Because apparently, your loyalty to her compromises yours for me. You haven’t mentioned a word to me. That’s very unsettling.”
Not expecting that response, I covered my mouth as I sputtered a howl. “Sadik.”
“I’m sorry.” His kaleidoscopic irises were on me regretfully. The quick change of mood took my breath away. “I shouldn’t have interfered in your relationship with your friend. More than that, I should have thought long and hard—after”—his volume increased for emphasis—“—I became your lover. That would have been my only hope at keeping you. You gave me such a hard fuckin’ time just to be your friend.” His forehead wrinkled as his face morphed into an expression of grief.
All I could do was shake my head. “And just to think, I went along with your every unreasonable command at each turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“You wanted to be my friend, I went along with it.” I counted off on my fingers. “You wanted to be my lover, I went along with it again—”
“You were more than interested in that prospect.” He lifted a brow, as though daring me to disagree.
“My point is, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, including fall in love with you. And still, I feel like I’m not where you want me to be. Do you think we’ve moved too fast? Maybe that’s why you’ve never been satisfied with my pace. Maybe if we’d just dated longer, used condoms…” I pushed my bottom lip into my teeth and chewed on it and that thought with doubt.
“Nalib, there’s no goddamn way I would have moved slowly with you. And there’s no fuckin’ regret in the world about not using condoms. Using with you them felt unnatural even before I’d been inside you.” His eyes went to the baby admiringly. “I’ve only been obsessed with two things in my life. The first was power. This is the result of my second obsession.” Sadik’s regard landed on me. “You’re that obsession, Bilan.” His tone was suddenly regretful.