The Eleventh Commandment

by Lutishia Lovely

  “You know what—it really does look like a bow. That’s crazy. I’ve wanted to get a tattoo. I think this might be the time ... and the place.”

  “Well, you know I’m down with that,” Bo said, making a show of rubbing the name “Darius” that was written in calligraphy across his lower back.

  Darius outlined the name emblazoned across Bo’s caramel toned body, skin that was baby smooth and blemish free, first with his finger. Then with his tongue. The lovers traveled familiar territory across each other’s bodies, their mutual desire clearly evident by raised flagpoles pledging allegiance to each other.

  “You know I love you, nut. I thank God for giving me you.” Darius positioned himself over his heartbeat, taunting, teasing, kissing his neck.

  “Yes, and I love what the Lord made that’s tickling my backside,” Bo replied sarcastically. “Now let’s get this private party poppin’!”

  52

  Marriage Vows

  Cy and Hope cuddled in the backseat of the town car that squired them around the snow-covered streets of Washington, DC. When the Taylors had suggested they wanted to spend some time alone with their grandchildren, they’d quickly taken them up on the offer. Cy had arranged a town car so that after taking in some of the historical landmarks, they’d meet Simeon and his date for some drinks at a jazz club and maybe even find a dance club where, as Cy put it, they could “bust some moves.”

  The car crossed 14th Street heading for Pennsylvania Avenue and within minutes they were passing 1600, the most famous address in the country. “It looks so imposing, almost majestic,” Hope said, as they took in the gargantuan Christmas tree in front of the stately, Hoban architecture that had been built more than two hundred years ago. The subdued lighting gave the building an intimate feel, yet power fairly oozed between the wrought-iron fence.

  “Think our president and first lady are home?” Cy joked. “Think they’d mind if we came for a visit?”

  “Naw,” Hope replied, nestling closer into Cy’s warmth. “They’re probably spending the holidays on some exotic island, or back in Hawaii.” They continued riding, passing the Washington monument, the Congressional office building and other famous landmarks. “Let’s let them enjoy the holiday. I’m sure our dear president will call you when he comes to California.” Hope’s comment was only partly in jest. Cy had met President Obama last year, at a pricey fund-raiser. Not one for celebrity photo ops, the picture of the two smiling men was proudly displayed on Cy’s office wall.

  “Ah, here’s somebody calling with even more clout than the prez.” He tapped his phone’s screen. “What’s up, cousin?”

  “Wondering where y’all are at?” Cy could tell that Simeon was already at the club; his voice was raised above the din.

  “We’re on our way.” Cy reached over and kissed Hope as he listened to Simeon. She kissed back, passionately. After listening to Simeon, he answered. “That sounds like a plan because, uh, there’s something I need to do first too.” He finished up the call and then spoke to the driver. “Let’s head uptown.”

  The driver nodded.

  Hope looked at Cy. “I thought the club was on U Street, where we were last night.” Cy smiled, looking like a brother with a secret that he wasn’t ready to share. “Cy Anthony Taylor,” Hope said, in as stern a voice as she could muster with Cy’s thumb playing a light symphony on the sensitive side of her arm. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m not up yet,” he whispered, nibbling her ear in the process. “But that will all change in about ten minutes.”

  Nine minutes and forty-five seconds later, they pulled up to the Mandarin Oriental in Washington, DC. This luxury chain had quickly become one of Cy’s favorites, and he was more than happy to introduce it to his baby.

  “Cy!” Hope looked out the window upon the opulent hotel entrance and the doorman already opening her door. “You told me they were sold out,” she whispered, smiling at the doorman and waiting for Cy to come to her side.

  “It is,” Cy said, nodding at the doorman and placing a light hand at Hope’s back. “But I’ve got connections. The president, remember?”

  “Whatever, man,” Hope said, a squiggle forming at the core of her heat as Cy’s hand made an almost imperceptible circular motion at the small of her back. She was duly impressed when they bypassed the check-in counter and headed straight to the elevators. “I see someone’s been busy,” she said, as a bellman appeared from nowhere and accompanied them to their suite. “As you know, Thanksgiving night signals our start of the Christmas season. The present I wanted to give you tonight was best done out of the sight of my parents and our kids.”

  Just as they were getting settled into the Oriental Suite, Hope’s phone rang. She reached for it and immediately, her playful mood vanished.

  Cy noticed immediately. “Who is it?”

  Hope showed him the screen: Trisha Underwood.

  “Just ignore it, baby,” Cy said. They’d already had the conversation with Trisha about not being able to continue the friendship, seeing that she was improving, and wishing her well. Especially now, since it appeared that she wouldn’t be leaving this earth, not in the near future anyway, Cy had done so without feeling guilty. He sincerely felt that given the circumstances, he’d done everything that he could. “Whatever she wants can be said in a message. We can check it later on.”

  Hope had different plans, as evidenced by her answering the call. “Hello, Trisha.” She pressed the speaker button.

  “Hello, Hope! It’s still Thanksgiving there so ...I hope you, Cy, and the children have had a happy one.”

  “We did,” Hope replied. “And you?”

  “It was great. My parents came over to Australia to spend time with me. That meant the world.”

  “I’m sure it did.”

  “Hope, hold on a minute.” There was a pause where the garbled sound of a man was heard in the background.

  Is that Trisha’s father? Cy thought, telling himself to relax as a feeling of guilt surfaced, something that he’d sworn he’d gotten over. Why would he be suspicious of Trisha calling and wishing them a happy Thanksgiving? Especially since she’d called Hope? Obviously, she wasn’t trying to be underhanded. “Hey, Trisha,” he said, to let her know they were on speakerphone.

  “Cy! Please give a hug to your parents for me. I’ve thought of them often over the years; they were always so kind.”

  “I will.”

  Cy and Hope became silent then, waiting to hear the reason for Trisha’s call. She quickly obliged them. “You’re probably wondering why I’m calling.”

  “Yes,” was Hope and Cy’s simultaneous reply.

  Trisha’s laughter was genuine and heartfelt. “Well, since you guys indirectly played a huge part in what just happened, I wanted you to be the first to know.” During the next few seconds of silence, Cy’s brain raced with possibilities and Hope held her breath. “I’m getting married!”

  What!? Cy and Hope looked at each other, stunned. Hope recovered first. “Congratulations, Trisha.”

  Cy leaned toward Hope’s phone. “Wow, Tricky, that was fast. Who is it? I mean, where did you meet him? How?”

  “Maybe I can best clarify.” A deeply accented voice wafted over the phone.

  Again Hope and Cy shared a simultaneous moment. The doctor?

  “Kendrick?” Cy’s joy was genuine. “I mean, Dr. Adzikiwe.”

  “No,” the man said. “My name is Allen Adzikiwe. I’m Kendrick’s brother.”

  “Allen,” Cy repeated, still shocked at this quick and unexpected turn of events. “Nice to meet you.”

  Kendrick, who was with the recently engaged couple, joined the conversation. “They met when I invited Trisha to a family dinner. One look at each other and it was love at first sight!” After talking a bit longer, Kendrick and Allen extended the Taylors an invitation to the Adzikiwe-Underwood wedding, planned for Valentine’s Day in Sydney, Australia, where Trisha now lived. Surprisingly, the Taylors found themselves saying
yes. They’d been around for the beginning of this unbelievable turn of events—the search for a cure that turned into a love affair. It seemed only right that they’d be there for the ending.

  Once Hope ended the call, Cy immediately took her hand and pulled her toward the closed bedroom door. “I think we should take full advantage of all of this love that’s in the air.” He opened the door and smiled at Hope’s gasp. The already beautifully appointed room was awash in lit candles, and there were several presents on the bed.

  “Cy! What’s all this?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  She opened the first box and pulled out a lovely negligee. It was a powdery pink number with satin straps, a satin hem, and a gauzy, see-through material in between. She smiled, remembering the first time he’d bought her negligees, the ones she’d worn on her honeymoon. “Great taste as always, baby,” she said, kissing him softly on the mouth. “Can’t wait to put this on.”

  “Can’t wait to see you in it.”

  She reached for the second box, a smaller one containing a perfume bottle—shaped somewhat like a curvy woman, but with a flat bottom allowing the container to comfortably sit on a vanity. She tilted the label to read it in the subdued lighting. Tears came to her eyes as she read the single title: Hope. “You didn’t,” she whispered, already unscrewing the cap to smell the essence inside the crystal decanter. It smelled divine: ylang ylang, vanilla, what smelled like a spice that Hope couldn’t quite define, and a hint of cinnamon. She immediately tilted the bottle, but Cy grabbed it before the liquid spilled. “Here,” he murmured, his eyes darkening as he stared at Hope’s chocolate skin. “Allow me.” He tilted the bottle and dabbed amounts of the custom-made cologne on Hope’s wrists and temples. “I’ve got a few more places in mind,” Cy whispered. “Later.”

  Hope sat on the bed and pulled the third box to her. She opened it, and smiled as she saw a smaller box. “What did you get me?” she asked. Cy shrugged. She opened another box, and another, three more times until she got to a box that was smaller than the others...and colored blue. Tiffany! “Cy, it’s not even Christmas yet!”

  “Doesn’t matter. Since I get to enjoy my present every day.” He shrugged, “Maybe I got carried away, but you know I’m one of those rare brothers who loves to shop.”

  “That you do,” she murmured as she slowly lifted the lid. “Oh, my goodness, Cy,” she exclaimed, pulling the modern-day mother’s ring from the black velvet case. “It’s stunning.” In lieu of the gems the setting astrologically called for, Cy used colored diamonds to tell the story of the family that he loved. “Everything is so gorgeous, so perfect,” Hope whispered, suddenly hot and ready for the only man she’d ever loved like this. “Thank you, baby. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome, baby. Now, can I see you in your presents?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Within minutes, Hope was dressed in her signature cologne, the mother’s ring, the silky negligee...and nothing else. The only thing Cy wore was his wedding band. They climbed onto the massive king-sized sleigh bed and after kissing her thoroughly, in a manner that almost took her breath away, he eased himself down to the bottom of the bed and sucked a freshly showered toe into his mouth. Hope moaned, having not known until she was married how sexy sucking this particular appendage could be. A soft moan was all it took for Cy to continue his journey upward, spending long, languid moments around and in her heat, his tongue parting and pushing, his teeth nibbling her nub, his mouth covering her paradise, giving her pleasure until she began to shake from the intensity of the oncoming orgasm, and her love of the man who’d once again showed her what an exceptional husband looked like.

  Before she could catch her breath, Cy had raised himself over her, nudged apart her legs with his own, and entered her. Hope gasped at the incredibly delicious girth of him, a sound that was caught in Cy’s mouth as he kissed her. Soon, his tongue mimicked his pelvic thrusts, before twirling with Hope’s as they settled into a rhythm perfected over the past six years. With each thrust, memories of the confusion, insecurity, and friction that Trisha’s reappearance had caused was replaced by the love, commitment, and honor expressed in their marriage vows. Cy’s rhythm increased and before long, Hope felt the familiar buildup in her core, felt herself begin to shake with anticipation at her inevitable release. Cy soon joined her, a long hiss escaping from his lips as he released inside her. For the next several seconds, heavy breathing and rapid heartbeats were the only sounds.

  Cy kissed Hope’s nose before rolling off her. “That was delicious.”

  “Simply scrumptious,” Hope agreed, nestling into his side. “Oh, no! What about Simeon? Aren’t they waiting for us at the club?”

  “Don’t worry.” Cy wrapped his arms around Hope. “I told him that we’d take a rain check and do breakfast instead.”

  “When did you tell him that?”

  “Texted him when you were in the restroom.”

  “Hmm, I see that you’re full of surprises.”

  “I knew that one round wouldn’t be enough for us.” Hope laughed. He smiled and pulled her even closer. “I love you, Mrs. Taylor.”

  “I love you, Mr. Taylor.”

  They spent the rest of the night showing each other just how much.

  53

  As Long As It Takes

  “You’re cheating!” Stacy stood up, reached over and bopped the middle brother, Damien, on the head. “You know good and damn well that wasn’t your book!”

  “Watch your damn language!” Stacy’s mom shouted from the other room.

  Everyone laughed.

  “She’s just mad,” Damien told his brother, Brent, as he raked up the cards and shuffled for another hand of a family favorite, bid whist. “The only way she and Scully are going to see Boston is if they pack their bags and go with us!”

  Damien and Brent high-fived.

  Stacy rolled her eyes.

  “Forget both you nuckas,” Scully mumbled.”

  “Mama, Scully’s in here cursing,” Damien yelled.

  “Stop lying, punk! I said forget!”

  Their mother walked into the dining room with her hand on a slim hip. “I tell you, some things haven’t changed in twenty years. Am I going to have to break up this card game?” She placed a hand on Stacy’s shoulder. “Do you need some more girl power in this room?”

  Stacy placed her hand on top of her mom’s. “I can handle these clowns.”

  “Come on and sit down,” Scully said, rising from his chair. “I need to go check on the nieces and nephews.”

  One of their cousins sat down and soon the trash-talking, and bantering across the table began again. Amid raucous laughter, Scully reentered the room. “Stacy, you have a visitor.”

  Stacy’s brow furrowed. “Who?” Her answer walked into the room, carrying two dozen roses. She stood and faced him, indignation written across her face. “Tony, I told you that I didn’t want drama today. What are you doing here?”

  “It’s on me, sis,” Brent said, rising. “He called me, asked if he could come over, and I said that it was okay.”

  “Oh, so when did you start speaking for me and when did I stop being able to speak for myself?”

  “Listen, I’m not trying to get in your business—”

  “I can’t tell—”

  “But I know that both of you are missing each other; both of you are hurting. I figured that since this is the day we’re being thankful and all, that we could call a truce for a minute.”

  “I can’t believe you did this, Brent. You of all people. It was just a few short weeks ago that you were on the verge of getting arrested for assault!”

  Brent fixed Tony with a determined look. “I’m still not far from it. If he ever puts his hands on you again, Tony knows how it’s going down.” He turned to Stacy. “But what you don’t know is that he also called two weeks ago and asked to meet with the family. Without you.” Stacy looked from Brent to Tony, with a confused expression. “He shared
what had brought him to that awful place with you, and what he was doing to make sure it never happened again. He also wanted our forgiveness. I’m one of the ones who gave it to him.”

  “I’ll only stay a few moments,” Tony said, the conversation now finally with him instead of about him. “But I wanted to see you, Stacy. And give you these.” He held out the roses.

  Several seconds went by without her moving. Brent finally stepped forward. “Girl, are you going to just let the man’s arm fall off?”

  Stacy took the flowers. “They’re lovely, Tony. Let me put them in some water.”

  When Brent left the room, an awkward silence followed. Unlike Brent, Damien still had nothing to say to the man who’d dared put his hands on his sister. His and Scully’s was the forgiveness for which Tony was still waiting. “Time will tell,” was Damien’s answer when Tony insisted how sorry he was. Even now his fingers were itching to open up a can of whoop ass and use it on the man who hurt his sister. As for hotheaded Skully, he was only two seconds and about five feet away from let-me-handle-this-punk-ass-fool, so he again left the room.

  He’d left, but Stacy didn’t trust Skully. He was likely to get to thinking about what happened and bum-rush a brother. “Let’s go outside,” she suggested, turning and leaving without waiting for a response. While walking to the sliding doors just off the dining room, she tried to sort out the myriad of feelings that seeing Tony had brought on.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Tony said, as soon as they were alone in the Gray’s backyard. “But you haven’t answered your phone all day. Or returned my calls.”

  “Maybe that should have told you something,” Stacy quietly replied.

  “I guess. But the last time we talked, you said that you weren’t going to close the door on us, that you were going to give me time to prove to you that what happened was a once-in-a-lifetime mistake.”

  “I said that, Tony. And I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk to you on the regular, because I don’t. Yes, I’ve forgiven you, but I haven’t forgotten. I’m not going to fake the warm and fuzzy feelings when they are not there. I always said that if a man ever hit me, it would be one hit too many. And I’d be gone without looking back. Whatever you said to my brothers may have softened Brent’s position, but two of my brothers are still very angry. And, quite frankly, so am I.”