by RB Austin
“Did you tell her you were sorry?”
“Yes. I told her over and over and she still yelled at me. Still took my ball and won’t let me have any dessert. Still sent me to bed.”
Sarid tilted his head. “What do you think she should have done?”
“Not sent me to bed. Let me have my ball. And go camping. She knows Devan’s dad. I never get to have any fun. And let me eat some lasagna. She knows I like lasagna. Not a stupid sandwich. I had a sandwich for lunch.”
“Hmm. Balls can slip out of hands. And you always bounce your ball in the house, so Mom should’ve moved the vase.”
The boy frowned.
“She should move all the pictures and breakable things out of the house because you like to bounce your ball. Sometimes accidents happen. She should understand and not get upset. Like if Devan came over and accidently stepped on your Captain America masher, breaking a piece off of it. Even though you asked him not once, not twice, but many times not to do karate in your room and to be careful about that area, well, it wouldn’t be Devan’s fault if he stepped on it when he was practicing his moves.”
The frown deepened. “Yeah it would. I told him to be careful.”
“But he didn’t mean to do it. Practicing karate is better in your room because you have carpet.”
Keandre’s lower lip pushed out, forehead scrunched in concentration as he stared at his blanket.
“Would you want Devan back in your room after he broke your toy?”
He shook his head.
“Even though he didn’t mean to do it and was sorry.”
“No.”
“Even though it was technically your fault for leaving the toy on the floor where if at any moment Devan decided to practice his karate moves it could get broken.”
Keandre didn’t respond. A moment later, he slipped off of Sarid’s lap and laid down in bed. Sarid pulled the covers up. Rubbed a hand over the boy’s head.
“Was Momma really sad?”
“Yes.”
Tears filled his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make her sad. The ball didn’t slip out of my hands. I threw it, but I didn’t mean for it to hit the vase.”
Sarid kissed the boy’s forehead. “It might be a good idea to keep quiet. Give her time to herself. In the morning, maybe say you’re sorry again.”
Keandre rubbed his eyes. “I will.”
“Ready to go to sleep yet?”
Keandre shook his head, yawned. “Will you read me a story?”
“Not tonight. I need to take care of your mom.”
The boy sighed. “Okay.” Then raised his arms.
When Sarid leaned down, Keandre wrapped his arms around Sarid’s neck. “Good night, Keandre.”
“Night.”
On the way to the kitchen, Sarid grabbed the flowers from the coffee table. He glowered at the large bouquet in his hands. Bad timing.
Under the sink he found a glass vase and filled it with water. After setting a slice of a lasagna on a plate, he wrapped the rest for the fridge.
The kitchen was clean when Asjhone stepped into the room, a robe on, belt tied around her waist.
He poured a glass of wine from the bottle he brought over two nights ago. She smiled, a sad smile. Head resting against the doorframe, she glanced around the kitchen. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He set the microwave to sixty seconds.
Asjhone was silent as she ate, her gaze on the flowers in the middle of the dining room table. He refilled her glass when it emptied and ignored her protests when he took her finished plate and headed into the kitchen. Later he found her on the couch, eyes on the empty shelf. Sarid sat next to her, picked up her hand that wasn’t holding the wine and stroked the soft skin. Asjhone rested her head against his arm.
“Thank you for the flowers and for being here tonight.”
“It’s where I want to be.”
“Do you think who a child’s parent is matters? Like how the adult is, there’s a strong possibility the child will be that way, too? Nature verse nurture. Genes and blood verses learned behaviors.”
Sarid studied her. “Why do you ask?”
“Keandre was mad when I told him no to camping. He started yelling like he does and bounced the ball so hard it hit the shelf.”
“Do you think he did it on purpose?”
She rubbed her forehead. “No. But he was angry enough to throw the ball like he did. Too angry to think about his actions. When he gets like that, he reminds me so much of—” Asjhone bit her lip. Shook her head. “It scares me. I don’t want him to grow up and get angry like that.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
His gaze fell to their joined fingers and stayed. “I was raised in Africa. In a small village.”
“Africa? You don’t have an accent.” She set her glass on the coffee table, faced him.
“I haven’t lived there for many, many years.” At her silence, he continued. “I never knew my father. Since I was old enough to remember, I’d been told he was ibi. Evil. He’d been a wanderer. Not part of our village. My mother had been by the stream washing clothes when he passed. She’d been alone. He raped her. Brutally.”
Asjhone’s fingers tightened around his, but she didn’t speak.
“My mother wished she’d killed me the moment she’d learned I was growing inside her belly.”
Asjhone sucked in a breath.
“I received the marks on my face when I was five. I’d been caught playing with the other children. See, it was forbidden. I was allowed to live in the village. Sleep there. Eat the leftovers. But I was not to speak or talk to anyone, except my mother, who didn’t want anything to do with me. I was the son of a rapist. Poison. The sins of my father, the elders believed, had been passed down to me through his seed. Punishment was swift if I disobeyed. A strapping. No food. Extra chores. It didn’t take long to learn it was better if I was never seen or heard.
“I’d often follow the other children from a distance. Watch them play. Wonder at their games. Their laughter. One day I got too close. A round rock they’d been playing with landed near my feet. I picked it up. Threw it to them. The boy that caught it smiled, beckoned me closer. One of the women saw this interaction. Told the elders.
“The boy said he didn’t know who I was. He was lying, of course. Everyone in the village knew. But the boy’s father was part of the council.
“The elders decided I should be marked to avoid further mistakes. Everyone would know upon sight who and what I was.
“Four large cuts were made on each cheek with a sharp blade. Then in order to prevent it from healing properly, and, thus, perhaps fool others, a powder was pushed into the wounds. It burned my skin.” He paused. Resisted the urge to touch his cheeks. “The powder was successful.”
“That’s . . . barbaric. They . . . How. . . To a child? Where was your mother?”
He hesitated, shook his head, continued speaking. “For a while, I believed them. I was evil. Deserved punishment. Wasn’t I half my father? Was his blood, not my blood? It took many years to realize I was my own person. Made my own decisions. Lived my own consequences. I could choose to be good. To make right choices.
“And, though what they did was extreme, I had done wrong. I knew I wasn’t supposed to play with those children. I did it anyway.”
Asjhone slid off the couch, knelt in front of him. Ducked her head, until he met her gaze. There were tears in her eyes. One slipped down her cheek. “You think you deserved that punishment?”
He shrugged, frowned, wiped the tear from her face. “I’ve come to peace with my past. I didn’t say this for your sympathy or concern. I said it to ease your worry over your son. He’s a good boy, Asjhone. You’re a great mother. He’ll grow
up to be kind and gentle just like you. He’ll make mistakes, everyone does, but in his heart,” he placed a hand over his chest, “he’ll be good. And that’s what’s important.”
She rose, lifted her robe before placing a knee on either side of his legs. On his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugged him tight. He held on just as strong, listened to her quiet sniffles, sometimes felt the wetness on her cheek where it rested against his neck. After a while she pushed back, stared into his eyes, then her gaze moved to his cheeks before placing her lips upon every scar.
A lump grew in his throat with every soft, gentle sweep of her mouth. “I love you.” He spoke the words without thinking and froze, waiting for her reaction.
Her slow growing smile restarted his heart. “I hadn’t planned it. Was afraid to wish for it. But, I love you, too.”
He cupped her head, brought her closer. An inch before their lips met, Asjhone paused.
“Will you come to my bedroom?” Her words were spoken quietly. The scent of jasmine and chocolate thickened the air.
His dick stirred at just the thought of getting to taste her again. “Yes.” Then stood, not letting go of her. She giggled, wrapped her legs around his waist, tightened her grip around his neck. The laugh was light, carefree and held none of her earlier melancholy.
New favorite.
Inside the bedroom, he set her down and closed the door. At her glance, said, “I will hear Keandre if he calls out.”
She considered for a moment, then, “Okay.”
He was at her side. Had her robe untied and parted in the next instance. Then sucked in a breath. Her beauty hadn’t been forgotten. It was imprinted on his brain, but somehow she still managed to steal his breath.
“This,” he had to pause, swallow. “This is what you’d been wearing underneath your robe the whole time?” He was unable to raise his gaze from her perfection.
She chuckled. A bit embarrassment. Some amusement. A lot of pleasure.
Definite favorite.
Then she closed off his view, wrapping the garment back around her.
He gave a low growl.
She inhaled sharply. And he would’ve thought he’d scared her until her scent bloomed again. Her hand rested on his chest. “Stop. This isn’t why I brought you in here.”
The letdown was huge. All the plans he’d been making since he rose from the couch came to an abrupt halt. His cock almost wept its disappointment. “It’s not?” He couldn’t contain the whine in his voice. Finally lifted his gaze, resisting the urge to untie her robe.
“I want to do something for you.” She cupped his cheek.
His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“I want to pleasure you, like you did me a few days ago.”
Asjhone’s mouth around him . . . A shudder ran through him. Followed by panic, but he pushed that aside. “You want to pleasure me?” His voice was low.
Her chest rose faster. “Yes,” she breathed.
“Good.” He untied her robe and had it sailing across the room before she could protest.
Nothing. She’d been wearing absolutely nothing underneath her robe.
“Wait—”
He picked her up, laid her on the bed. Two seconds later was in between her legs.
“Sarid—oh.”
The long, slow lick up her center was just the appetizer. And he planned to order seconds of that before even getting to the main course.
“This isn’t what—”
He dug into his feast. Licking. Sucking. Eating up every moan and pant she gave.
“How do you turn me on so fast?” she groaned, hands fisting the sheet underneath her.
His hand glided over her belly to cup her breast. Lightly pinch her nipple. She arched her back. And, damn, if that didn’t make him conflicted as to where to put his mouth next.
Stay where he was? Or head north?
Her muscles tensed. “I’m going to come,” she gasped, pushing her hips off of the bed.
Decision made. He’d postpone his visit for a bit.
Letting go of her breast, he slid his fingers inside her warm heat. Moved them out. In. Continued pleasuring her with his hand and mouth until she cried out, her walls tightening around his fingers. Once was never enough, though. With his tongue and fingers he made her come three more times before she pushed him away.
“Enough.” The word had no strength behind it, but he complied, remembering his earlier dilemma.
Her body was lax, arms and legs spread, eyes closed. He made his way up, kissing and gently biting until he reached his destination. Nipples already hard, he sucked one into his mouth. Swirled his tongue around it.
She cupped his head. “I’m mad at you,” she moaned.
With a soft pop, he let go of his prize. “You’re mad?”
One lid lifted. Her expression mock-stern. “Yes. This wasn’t what I had in mind.”
His shoulders relaxed. “But you wanted to pleasure me, yes?”
Her lips pursed. “You know what I wanted.”
“Hearing you say my name in that way you do when you come.” He closed his eyes. Inhaled deep. “Pleasures me to no end.”
Eyes softened for only a moment, before determination formed. She reached down. Stroked him through his jeans.
He sucked in a breath.
Her hand squeezed gently. Then moved up and down again. “But what if I want the same thing?”
Their eyes locked. His breath became unstable. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Will you let me?” she asked after a moment, her hand never pausing its rhythm. “I’ll stop any time you’re uncomfortable.”
“I . . .”
She stroked faster. He groaned.
“Please,” she whispered and brushed her lips against his. Swept her tongue along his lower lip. “Please.”
Pressure was building. Both in his cock and in his chest. His last conversation with the pastor flowed through his head. Trust yourself. Trust the Creator.
He checked in with the demon. Nothing. Like he’d thought, the demon was soothed by Asjhone’s touch.
Nerves began to rise. Only a small amount due to fear and what could happen.
A strangled moan escaped when Asjhone’s thumb rubbed the spot where the head of his erection pressed against the denim. “Yes,” he managed. “Yes.”
She stilled, then ripped her hand away. He couldn’t stop the groan at its absence. Her lower lip was in between her teeth. Deep lines in the middle of her forehead.
His eyebrow rose. “Change your mind?”
She shook her head. Pursed her lips.
He resisted the urge to lower his hips, press his cock—now pulsing with need—against her still warm heat. Instead, he lay on his side. Brushed a stray hair behind her ear. “What’s the matter then?”
“I feel like I tricked you somehow.”
“Tricked me?”
“Coerced you into saying yes. With my hand.”
It took a moment to catch up. “First you’re mad I pleasured you, because you wanted to pleasure me. Then when you do begin to pleasure me and I tell you yes I’m okay with it, you feel guilty?”
She dropped her head into her hands. “Yes,” she said, voice muffled.
He groaned. “Woman, you drive me crazy.”
With a sigh, she sat up. His gaze fell to her breasts. Didn’t realize his hand had reached up to stroke one, until she caught it, held it. “I wanted you to come to me willingly, but instead I bullied you. My hand bullied your,” she waved a hand to his crotch, “penis into it. And that’s not what I wanted. I want your mind on the same page as your—”
He placed a finger over her mouth. “Don’t say it. With that word you managed to knock,” he gestured to hi
s zipper. “Him out completely.”
“Well, I am a nurse.”
“Yes,” he said and sat up. He threaded fingers through her hair, kissed her. “Listen. I love it when you touch me. On the cheek. My chest. Lips. And, yes, even when your hand was on my,” he flashed a grin. “Penis. I want you to pleasure me. You didn’t bully me into a decision. It was your love and patience and tenderness that swayed me. Okay?”
Her eyes searched his face. “Okay.”
“But you can only do it for a little while. I’m getting hungry again.”
She laughed. It was a different one. A naughty one. His new favorite. Her hand trailed down his shirt. “Will you take this off? Pants, too?”
Not removing his eyes from her, he stood, stripped off his shirt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the floor.
Her gaze slowly traveled over his chest, abs, then lower. She sucked in air. “No underwear. A regular occurrence? God, I hope so.” The words were spoken under her breath, not meant for his ears, but that didn’t stop his smile. She didn’t notice, though. Had yet to lift her eyes.
He’d lied to her earlier. He was still hard. And very eager to feel her hands, barrier-free, on him. It seemed impossible, but his cock grew even more under her scrutiny.
With a shake of her head, her gaze lifted. She moved to make room for him on the bed. It was his turn to stare. Would he ever tire of looking at her?
His hand lifted of its own accord, thumbed an erect nipple—no, no he wouldn’t—then cupped as much as he could, massaging gently. She closed her eyes, head falling back. He slid his hand to the other breast.
“No. Stop it. It’s my turn.”
His lips turned up at the lack of command in her voice. He lowered his mouth to her chest, wrapped his arm around her back.
She inhaled, clutched the back of his head. “I’m serious, Sarid,” she said, pulling him closer.