The Never List

by DL White

  I pulled her to me by her hips, tucking her body up against mine. “I'm just asking you to trust me. I know I haven't done a lot to deserve it, but please give me a chance. I'm putting myself out, too."

  "You're right, I know. I'm not ready yet. I will. But not yet. Can we get out of this room now?"

  "Bet. But I'm not gonna stop asking. Just letting you know." I kissed her, then set her free. "Get your Tom Cruise on, girl."

  We both blinked in the brightness of the lobby lights after being in that dark room for an hour. Esme pulled her bun out, absentmindedly running her fingers through her hair, fluffing it around her face. She was flush, but her eyes were bright, and her smile was wide.

  "Whew, that was fun! I'd love to bring my nephews out here. They'd lose their minds. My nieces, too."

  "You made it," I told her, slinging an arm across her shoulder and guiding her toward the exit. "Another checkmark on that list that you'll eventually show me. You proud of yourself?”

  "I am. Not what I had in mind for an extreme sport, but it's done."

  "You made it extreme. You were gangsta in there."

  "I did that, huh?"

  "And you were way sexier than Tom Cruise will ever be."

  "You didn't do so bad yourself."

  I unlocked the Acadia with the key fob. The interior lights illuminated, the running lights popped on, and the door locks clicked as they disengaged.

  "Okay, I'll admit it. Laser Maze wasn't that extreme."

  "It wasn't," she agreed, laughing. "I feel like Lunar Golf would have been more of a challenge.”

  "I thought it would be fun to see you jump over stuff. I didn't lose my planning privileges, did I?"

  "Not at all. I'm happy that I let you plan."

  "Because it wasn't bungee jumping?"

  "No. Well, yes. And because you did it with me. That's kind of my favorite part."

  She rose onto her toes to bring her mouth to mine. A pleasured groan rolled from the my belly as our mouths meshed. I inched her back against the side of the SUV, then maneuvered between her thighs.

  Esme whimpered, which sent my dick into overdrive. She sucked on my tongue while moving her hands around to grab two handfuls of ass and pull me up against her. Her hips rolled against my growing thickness. I matched her rhythm, grinding back.

  I slipped my hand under her blouse, exploring the velvet texture of her skin, traveling up her waist to the orbs encased in the dark bra that I'd been staring at all night. It didn't take long for my fingers to pluck a nipple poking through the fabric.

  She jerked, inhaling sharply when I flicked my thumb across the taut nub, but when I pulled away, she grabbed my hand and moved it back to her breast. "Don't stop. I like that."

  Esme panted hot breath on my neck, her pelvis rocking against mine. I ground out a grunt, my thrusts turning urgent, more aggressive. I marveled at the heft and shape of her breasts in my palms. I longed for the day when I could taste them, when those diamond tip nipples would rasp against my tongue.

  A rhythmic, guttural sound accentuated Esme's movements. Those talons she called nails dug into my skin, but hell if I was going to stop her.

  "Oh my God… Trey…”

  She moaned into my ear, her breath hot on my neck. Then she hissed, sucking in air through her teeth. Her back arched, pressing her body into mine. I pushed us both up against the SUV, using it as leverage to buck my hips against hers until she let out a muffled yelp and I felt a full-body, violent shudder.

  I closed my eyes, absorbing the sound and sensation of Esme in the throes of orgasm— shallow breaths, deep moans, tiny tremors.

  Moments later, she visibly wilted, letting out a long, loud exhale. "Jesus.”She wiped a palm across her forehead. "What was that?"

  "You know exactly what that was." I moaned my appreciation into her ear, planting light kisses up her neck. "And it was sexy as fuck. Damn girl. I can honestly say I have never done that."

  "Get your own list," she mumbled. Then laughed. Then her eyes popped wide open, and she gasped. "Shit, we're outside!"

  I'd been so lost in her, so drunk on her that I had forgotten that we were standing with the passenger side door open. While the lot wasn't full, and we were on the opposite side of the truck, we faced a busy main road for the county. The line of trees between the chain link fence and the four lane arterial wasn't thick. Anyone stopped at a long red light could have watched that whole scene play out.

  "Come on here. We don't want to get arrested for fucking on Cobb Parkway."

  I stepped back, offering a hand to help her inside, then closed the door. Then I hopped in, snapped my seatbelt, and reached up to flip the dome light on.

  Esme turned in her seat to face me, tucking a leg up under her. Her lips were swollen and puffy, her hair a wild mass of curls, her eyes at half-mast.

  I love how a woman looks after orgasm. So satisfied. Esme looked satisfied.

  "You straight?"

  She nodded. "You?"

  "I'm real good. You 'bout to cuss me out?"

  She laughed. "No, Trey. I'm fine. I'm not ready for tonight to end yet, though."

  "I feel you on that. You trust me?"

  "Yes," she answered, her tongue thick. "Why?"

  "Field trip," I answered, turning off the dome light and putting the truck in drive. "We need a place to eat our pie."

  Chapter Twenty

  Esme

  * * *

  If my situation were different, i.e., I'd already had sex, I'd have demanded that Trey take me somewhere, anywhere and give me every inch of what I'd been grinding against until I was hoarse from screaming his name.

  I was closer to the end than the middle of my sexual peak, but my hormones raged like a hot-in-the-ass co-ed who had her eyes on the sexiest piece of chocolate on campus. It was far from my first orgasm, not even the first with him on my mind, but it was the first that he'd been actively involved in producing and… damn. Even through two layers of clothing, that shit felt good.

  He felt good. When he pulled me to him and held me by my hips, tipping his pelvis into mine… Mmmph. I reflexively clenched, adjusting in the seat.

  Trey had wedged a hand between my thighs as he drove, so when I moved, he took his eyes off the road briefly, checking me out. "Do we need to stop? There's a Quick Trip up here."

  I shook my head. "No. I don't…"

  "You don't… need to stop? You don't… like Quick Trip?"

  "I like QT fine. I don't use public restrooms." I knew he was going to laugh. I didn't expect him to put so much energy into it. "You know what? Fuck you, Mr. Pettigrew. I can't imagine what quirks you have that make you annoying."

  "You've already discovered a few of them. I don't think I have quite so many, though, Esme."

  "What an adventure for me. I guess I get to discover them all."

  "An adventure indeed," he said. I liked the way his voice dipped low when he said that, like he was thinking about the same thing I was thinking about.

  But probably not in the same way. My thoughts were consumed with the need for him to lay me down, to run those lips over every inch of my skin, to take his time introducing me to the world of sexual pleasure.

  Being honest, I really, really...really wanted him to fuck me. To be the first to fuck me. I huffed, feeling my body begin to heat up again.

  Trey squeezed the thigh gripped in his hand. "You alright?"

  "Yeah. You like that thigh meat, huh?"

  "This thigh meat?" He squeezed again. "This sexy thigh meat right here? These beans and rice that didn't miss ya? Yeah. I like it. That ok?"

  I wound my fingers around his, tipped my head back against the seat, and closed my eyes. "That's more than ok."

  I don't know when I fell asleep, but I woke up when we hit a bump in the road. It felt like we lurched a foot in the air. We weren't on Cobb Parkway anymore, a major thoroughfare through one of Atlanta's largest counties. And we weren't on the freeway.

  Trey was picking his way across an unpa
ved road, around more bumps like the one that woke me up.

  "Sorry about that. Fixing this road is up next on the list."

  I sat up and yawned, then reached for my purse at my feet. While I unwrapped and chewed a piece of gum, I tried to get my eyes to adjust to the pitch black night. I couldn't see a thing except for whatever was illuminated by the headlights.

  "Where are we?" I asked.

  "Stockbridge. We're actually not far from your house. I wanted to show you something. A little side project."

  We rode through a thicket of trees that gave way to an expanse of land. After a few minutes of total darkness, the road ended at a bare bones frame of a home under construction. Trey stopped at a spot in front of two wide open bays that I assumed would eventually be garage doors.

  I knew he wouldn't answer, so I didn't ask what this place was. Trey was a man that liked to tell his own story in his own way. So I followed his lead, climbing out of the truck. He left the headlights on so that we could see.

  "There's a little bit of power out here. The guys hung some lights so we could work after dark if necessary. Or if I need to sneak over here at night and check up on them."

  He led me through the open space, lined with building materials stacked and organized along the walls. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and keyed two locks, then swung the door open. A burst of cool air swept past me as I stepped inside. I listened to my sneakers echo across the wide boards that made up the floor. I heard a metal sounding switch, then a flood of light from a hanging construction lamp lit up the space.

  Whatever this place was, it was going to turn out nice.

  "We came from the garage, obviously. Mudroom over there," he said, pointing to a small alcove, then continued ahead of me, pointing out spaces where things like appliances and cabinets and counters would go. "I think I'm going to do granite countertops. I haven't picked it out yet, though. You like to cook?"

  I smirked. "That depends on if you're going to ask me to cook for you."

  He stepped into an open space and turned. "The gas range will go here. Built-in stovetop grill, double oven, microwave. One of those warming drawers. I don't know what that's for, but I hear it's good for resale value. Then over there," he said, pointing to the other end of the room. "Double sinks, those deep motherfuckers that you could practically bathe in. I'll probably never use it because the dishwasher will be over there too."

  He made his way around the room, calling out different spaces: pantry, the alcove for the wine refrigerator, storage closets, and the power room where everything would be run and house a state-of-the-art security system.

  "Over here is where things get interesting," he said, leading me to another part of the house. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now, but he turned on more lamps. The rooms were spacious, flowing from one end of the house to the other.

  "These are windows?" I asked, pointing at the boarded up cutouts in the frame.

  "Yep. The deck wraps all the way around this side of the house. Some doors lead to the outside from every room down here."

  "A lot of natural light from both sides of the house."

  "This is entertainment and living space. Kitchen, dining room, formal living room, family room, theatre room— that'll be nice. I'm looking forward to outfitting that. A big office with one of those doors that lead outside to the deck. Then outside, there's all this land. I have landscape plans for the backyard—definitely adding a pool eventually. I want to do something with the acreage without having to maintain it. I'm thinking about racquetball courts. Get my boy Ken out here."

  He seemed to pop out of his monologue to remember that I was there with him. "Do you play?"

  "I'm going to let you guess if I've played a sport where a rubber ball comes flying at my face."

  Trey's laugh was warm as he draped an arm over my shoulder. He led me toward a set of steps that were plain wood. Not stained or carpeted. Freshly built.

  "Bedrooms are upstairs—"

  "Whoa, wait. Are these safe?"

  "Nah. I plan to lead you up these totally unsafe steps. I thought you trusted me."

  "I have terrible luck, remember?"

  I followed him up the flight of stairs to a wide landing with several door openings. "I like open spaces. There are more possibilities for changing it up. I'll probably put the library up here, some nice leather seating. Get a camera, film some skin flicks..."

  "Alright, now."

  "Anyway, this spot will be a place to chill. The master will be over here," he said, pointing.

  The only way I could tell that area would be a room were the spaced poles that framed it.

  "I wanted a lot of space, room for a big ass bed, big ass furniture, a gas fireplace. The master bathroom will be laid out, too. Italian marble, soaking tub, double sinks. Everything premium. I'm not skimping on anything."

  "So, this is your house?" I finally asked. He'd dropped enough hints to know the answer to my question, but I was sure that he wanted me to ask. And that he wanted to talk about it.

  The pride that made his eyes glow in the dim light almost brought tears to mine. "Yeah. This is my place. Or, will be my place, once it's built."

  "Well, you have a loan on it. It's yours. It's been yours."

  He smiled. "I like how you think, Esme."

  "When is it supposed to be finished?"

  "I'm hoping to be moving by Christmas." He looked around, squinting, and bobbing his head side to side. "Might be tight. They'll likely still be finishing some things, but I want the big things done by then."

  A breeze whipped through the open, unheated space. "It got kind of cold tonight, huh?" He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me and dropping a kiss on my forehead. I already loved being in his arms.

  "I'm fine right now, though."

  I felt his chuckle through his chest. "Let's go to the car. I can turn on the heat, and we can eat our celebratory pie."

  Trey pulled the truck into the garage, turned on the heat and the radio, and lifted the hatch in the back so that we could sit in the trunk space behind the rear seat. Then he unpacked our individual dishes of peach pie, which were cold and congealed by now, but it didn't matter. I was happy to swing my legs and eat pie in the back of a truck listening to Jill Scott in the middle of nowhere.

  "Why'd you want to show me the house you're building?" I asked, before sliding another slice of pie into my mouth.

  "Because I'm proud of it," he answered, around a mouthful. "And because, you know, we talked about that glow up period when we both decided to be better people."

  "Yeah. You said you started dabbling in stuff. You built a house?"

  "I designed this house. You got an MBA. I got a Master of Architecture."

  My jaw dropped. All of those jabs about him going to a fancy school suddenly seemed shallow and uninformed. Trey shoveled another forkful of pie into his mouth and chewed, grinning at me. I felt like shit.

  "I…" I shook my head, still in surprised mode. "I'm sorry, Trey—"

  "I forgive you for thinking I'm a pedestrian dude with a lil' four-year degree from a state school."

  "That's not—"

  Trey's laugh cut through the dark, quiet night. "Esme, really. I'm not precious about it. It was something I wanted to do, but I couldn't miss a lot of work. The University of Florida offers an online program. It's slower, and I had to fly down for some week-long seminars and group activities, but what else was I going to do with my time? While I was at it, I got LEED Certified. Now I can build green homes and buildings."

  "But... your family owns a construction company. Did Saul say that you had to get another degree?"

  "Nope. He had nothing to do with it. But it was strategic. This is what I really want to do: design and build smart, sustainable homes like this. This house is the prototype. It's everything I wanted, and I needed to know that I could dream up something that could be applied to modern design. I needed to draft it, to plan it, then contract it to be built."

 
; Trey shrugged. "I'm not trying to flex, but I make good money being a Pettigrew. Every assumption you probably have about me is true. Saul Sr. left me a little trust fund. I work for my father at a well-off business that I'll probably inherit. By the time it mattered, I was a kid with rich parents, living with a lot of privilege, even though I'm Black. I'm spoiled, and I'm not used to hearing 'no.'" He paused to lob a self-deprecating grin in my direction.

  "Pops instilled a lot of real-world common sense and work ethic, though. He made sure that I knew the value of a dollar and the meaning of hard work and responsibility. I've had dirty, calloused hands, an aching back, a crew that didn't respect me. I own work boots. And when it came time to bring me up the line, he did that. Which comes with expectations of continuing the line."

  "How does Saul feel about the architecture degree and you designing your own house?"

  "Well…" Trey inhaled, sucking in a long breath through his nose and furrowing his brow. "He's proud that I did something I wanted to do. I set my mind on a goal and didn't let anyone or anything stop me. That's Pettigrew shit right there. Business-wise, he thinks it's a waste of time and money."

  "He doesn't want you to run residential?"

  He sucked his teeth. "Woman, we ain't got no residential division."

  "So start one!"

  "He's never been a proponent of residential design and construction. Too many variables. When he asked me to run Pettigrew while recovering, I told him that my agreement came with strings. He knows what the strings are. That's why I can't fuck up this deal with Miller."

  I understood, at that moment, what the acquisition meant to him, and what hung in the balance. If he screwed up, an opportunity to fulfill his life's dream would dissipate like vapor in warm air. He'd have to leave Pettigrew and strike out on his own, which would probably break Saul's heart, and, given his health struggles, Trey wouldn't do that.

  I also understood that The Never List played a part in this game. And seemed like a petty pawn to play.

  "Trey." I elbowed him to get his attention. He sat with his back against the seat, one leg bent so that his elbow rested on his knee. "We don't have to keep doing the list, just to get concessions on the contract. If you make reasonable efforts to negotiate, Miller will work with you. He wants it to happen. He's just not giving up his company without a fight."