by DL White
"I know how to clean up."
"I wanted to help, though…"
"No need. You're going to be busy."
We passed a few closed doors and turned into a darkened room. Trey released one of my hands to tap the light switch. Two bedside lamps turned on, bathing the room in soft light. The bed, clearly the centerpiece of the room, was a wide king covered in a black goose down comforter and coordinating beige and cream accessories. Thin, sheer curtains obscured picturesque windows.
"Ooh, you have a Peloton."
"Yeah. I ride every morning. And some nights, if I can't sleep."
I walked over to the sleek exercise bike positioned in front of the window. The screen, which looked like a large tablet, was dark. I tapped it, and nothing happened.
"Really? You want to play with the bike right now?"
"I've never seen one up close. Can you turn it on?"
Trey reached behind the small tablet affixed to the machine and pressed a button. The tablet came to life, the Peloton brand emblazoned across the screen. He pressed a few buttons, then turned a lever to lower the seat.
"Hop on. Let's see if Sharida has a class that's up."
"Who the hell is Sharida, Trey? Is that your girlfriend?"
Trey laughed, waiting until I climbed up onto the molded seat. "She's my Peloton girlfriend, yeah." With a few taps, he pulled up a class and pressed the start button. "Ride to the beat, adjust your strength with the knob under the screen. She'll pump you up, keep the energy going, let you know when you should be working hard, and when you should go all out because cool down is coming up."
"Neat." I was already huffing, trying to keep up with the class riding to The Jackson 5.
"She's got a live DJ tonight. These are fun rides. Like a party."
Trey stood next to me, watching the screen with his arms crossed, nodding his head to the beat. A gorgeous, bald, bronze bombshell was upfront on her bike, barking out commands over a headset mic with a smile.
"Uh, huh…"
"They make special shoes so that your feet stay secure on the pedals—"
"Ok." I hopped off of the bike before I broke a sweat. "I'll stick to yoga. Let's uh…" I nodded my head toward the extremely comfortable looking bed. "Let's talk over here."
"Ain't gotta tell me twice."
I climbed onto the bed on my hands and knees, then flipped over and laid back. Trey followed, stretching out beside me and already working his fingers under my t-shirt.
"Trey, I have a question that I want to ask you."
He cupped a breast in his palm and gently squeezed, then released and moved to the other one. "Go for it."
"What kind of women do you usually date? Do you have a type? I didn't see any pictures of women that don't look like family on your mantle."
He paused his motions, but only for a moment before resuming squeezing and kneading, flicking his thumbs across my nipples.
"Are you trying to see if you measure up? Or if I'm upgrading?"
"Sort of. I'm curious."
"Well. I try not to be too shallow. I like her to have arms and legs, hair, and teeth."
"See, why can't I get a serious answer to this question? Why don't you want to tell me?"
He laughed. "I like Black women, Esme. Black women with thick hips and meaty thighs and juicy breasts and—" He leaned in to kiss me. "Pillow soft lips like these right here."
"So, you're not going to answer?"
"I did answer. What do you want me to say? You want me to call out a bunch of shit that doesn't describe you, so you can wonder why I like you? Why I want you? You are exactly the kind of woman I like. That's why I like you. Among other reasons."
"Other reasons like what?"
"Like…" Trey paused, staring somewhere above my shoulder for a moment before answering. "Scruples. You give a damn about me, about my company, even when you're paid to care about the other guy. You're offering to risk your job to make sure I don't get fucked over. By your client."
"It's the right thing to do."
"Some people—like me, for example, might argue that it's not your job to do that. But I recognize that you want to, and I appreciate that you're willing to do that for me. It means a lot to me."
I cupped his chin, bringing his lips to mine. "Thank you. That was a very sweet, kiss-ass answer. I'll take it."
"Good. Because it's true."
"You don't want to know what kind of man I like?"
"Nope," he answered quickly. "You're here with me, at my place, on my bed. I'm pretty sure I fit the description."
"I feel like you think it should be that simple, but you know women aren't that simple."
"Neither are men, to be honest. There's a lot of pressure to be the perfect guy. But this?" He moved his hand between us to indicate both of us. "This is good. I like how it feels to be attracted to someone, to know that somebody feels the same way about me. I'm not trying to question it or talk myself out of wanting it. You bring me joy."
I grinned. "So, I get to stay?"
"For as long as you want to be here."
He rolled on top of me, settling inside thighs that instinctively opened for him. I willed myself to relax and enjoy him. I was soon lost in the heady sensuality of his mouth, his tongue, his lips, and the ripple of muscle under his skin when I gripped his arms or ran my hands down his back.
Trey sat up, resting on his knees. He'd changed into a t-shirt and shorts when he came home, but now he was pulling them off, tossing the clothing over the side of the bed. I followed suit, pulling off my t-shirt, leaving the bra on underneath. Then I tugged my leggings down and tossed them in the same general direction.
My clothing choices, down to my lingerie, were strategic. He'd already seen me all dolled up. Now he could see me dressed down. I knew we wouldn't be able to resist each other, so I chose a provocative, retro-inspired burgundy satin and lace set. My skin glowed against the deep color of the panty, and my breasts were just barely contained in the bra.
I felt irresistible. By the fire in Trey's eyes, he agreed.
Wearing only his boxer briefs, he lowered his body to mine and took my mouth swiftly. Without missing a beat or a swipe of his tongue, he took my hands in one of his and pinned them above my head. He slid the other to my thighs and pushed them open, then cupped me, using a finger to stroke my rigid bud through the thin satin. My body responded in kind with a deep flush of heat and lightning. My hips rolled in rhythm with his strokes, but it wasn't doing much but driving me crazy.
As if he could read my mind, he tucked a long finger under the band, emitting a groan and a hunch of his hips when he felt the pool of slick wetness. "Shit," he muttered, between bouts of sucking on my tongue. "You're so fucking wet. Is that for me?"
I could only whimper, mentally willing him to stroke harder, faster. I hooked a thumb in the band of my panties and pulled them down until I could kick out of them, then splayed my thighs to give him full access to a freshly waxed pussy that was ready for… whatever.
Especially if whatever meant the sensation of his fingers inside me. I shuddered, unable to contain the vibrations that rocked me. No man that I'd even contemplated sex with had ever tried to find that spot that made my body arch up off of the bed and a yelp of pleasure tear from my throat.
No matter what happened with Trey and me, I'd already decided that if it didn't feel like this— if I didn't crave him, If I didn't think about him constantly, if the sound of his voice didn't bring a visceral, pleasured reaction, then it wasn't it for me. All I had to do was moan, and Trey would respond.
Whatever happened tonight, I'd decided I was going to let it happen. I was so damned tired of staring at the TV, of dreaming about the romances I read about, imagining the sizzling scenes from Zane novels with my vibrator and a rotating list of Black porn sites. I'd explored my body and the lengths to which I could experience sexual pleasure independently. I was more than ready to top anything I could do for myself.
The only thing standing betwe
en me and copious amounts of sex with Trey was that damn contract, which wasn't even worth the paper it was printed on.
Trey released my lips, only to move his mouth down my body, dropping kisses at strategic places like the rise of each breast, then light snaps of his teeth at the nipples encased in satin, then moving south across the soft roundness of my belly. He moved further down until he was eye level to my core, then slid his arms under my body to hook my thighs over his shoulders. He kissed the inside of my right thigh. Then sucked the inside of the left.
With a long, flat tongue, he tasted me. He made sounds that made it clear that he was pleased. For that matter, so was I. I grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and shoved it under my neck. I wanted to watch when, without hesitation, Trey took my whole clit in his mouth, rasping the length with his tongue.
“Oooh… shit…”
Involuntarily, my pelvis jerked. I could hear how wet I was, which only made me more aroused. Trey was undeterred, setting his cadence and varying pressure until I held his head in my hands and writhed against him, riding him. He flicked his tongue across my clit and inserted two eager fingers into my slick center.
Moans that weren't quiet to begin with rose until I was shrieking. I pulled the pillow from behind my neck and put it over my face to scream into it.
“Mm-mmm,” he hummed, grabbing the edge of the pillow and throwing it across the room. "Don't hide. I want to hear you."
He went back to his task, working two long fingers inside me and stroking my clit with his tongue until my gasps came quicker, accompanied by moans and, finally, a gut level scream. As I pulsed around his fingers, I released an explosion that left him soaked to his wrist.
"Good girl."
"Oh my fucking God, I never came that hard before!" My chest heaved with my breaths as if I'd actually done miles on the Peloton. I fell flat against the mattress, lightheaded with limp limbs.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, dipping his head one last time to press his lips to my clit. I was so sensitive that it was a sweet kind of pain. "Be right back. Don't move."
He crawled off the bed and disappeared behind a closed door. I heard the water running for a few minutes, and then he was back, the scent of body wash wafting around him and a towel in his hands. He used the warm cloth to wipe me clean before he took it back to the bathroom.
Trey chuckled when he returned and stretched out next to me again. "You really did not move."
"I… don't think I can," I said. My voice came out weak. Dreamy. I was high. "I want to reciprocate with some bomb ass head, but I can't… right now."
"You don't need to reciprocate. I've been daydreaming about that since I met you, so I got mine. You just need to recover and tell me that you had a good time."
"I had a good time," I replied, then stretched, cat-like. "That was so...so good."
"Yeah? You'd like more of that?"
"I'd like much more of that, please."
"I think I'm going to be able to make that happen."
My eyes slid closed in a post-coital fugue, but I forced them open. "Trey. You didn't answer my question earlier. About running Miller's numbers."
He didn't respond for so long that I thought he'd fallen asleep. But then his voice rumbled beside me. "I don't want you to risk your job for me. I'll find a way to get the information I need. At least let me ask Miller. You know, try to get them legitimately."
I rolled my head toward him but ended up staring at the side of his face. "You said you didn't think he'd give them to you."
"I don't," he replied with a frown and a shake to his head. "But I can ask and go from there. I want this closed as much as you do. I want to be with you, but I need to do this guilt-free. Whatever I can do to keep you safe, that's what I want."
"But so you know, I'm gangsta outside of the Laser Maze, too. I'm willing to do it."
"I know. That's why I like you."
He sucked in a long breath through his nose and stared, wide-eyed, at the ceiling. The tension was palpable. I didn't envy his position. If he disappointed his father, he would lose any chance of getting to open and run a residential construction division. If he went forward with the transaction on faith, it could bankrupt Pettigrew.
"You feel like getting in the shower with me?" He asked, another sudden topic change. "I have those rainfall shower heads, and it's all marble inlay. It's almost as cool as the Peloton."
My eyebrows hiked in interest. "Maybe I'll get a second wind."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Esme
* * *
Trey's body ran like clockwork, so he said.
His circadian rhythms were set to 5 AM, so no matter what time he went to sleep, that was when his eyes opened. My body clock was not in alignment with his. After a luxurious and eventful shower the evening before, and a mutual body oil rubdown, Trey lent me a t-shirt from his collection and I passed out.
When he got out of bed to get on the bike before the sun was even up, it woke me up. I rolled over to watch the muscles in his back move through the white sleeveless tank he wore before I drifted back to sleep. He woke me up again after he finished.
"Come on now. You can't go to work in my t-shirt." He had a point, so I got up and searched for my clothes.
Now I yawned as I packed my bag and slipped my shoes on.
"Sorry about this whole walk of shame thing you gotta do."
"Sorry? For what? Bringing me dinner and wearing my ass out?"
Trey folded his arms cross his broad chest as he leaned against the counter behind him. He'd showered and stepped into a pair of briefs to walk me to the door. If I didn't have to go to work, I'd drag him back to the bedroom by the bulge that was taunting me.
"Since you put it that way, I don't have anything to be sorry for. I'm actually quite proud."
"Besides, I'm a grown woman," I added. "There's no shame in having several orgasms, returning the favor, then passing out." I looped an arm around his neck when he pulled me close, giving me an extra squeeze and a kiss at the door.
"I'll see you later this morning. I hope your client feels agreeable today."
"I'll try to prime him before you get there. Should I bring coffee?"
He shook his head. "Let me. You go home and get ready." He kissed me again, then opened the door and gently pushed me out to the hallway with the tips of his fingers. "If you don't leave, I'm going to convince you to play hooky so we can repeat last night. Go."
I frowned because that sounded like an excellent idea, but I turned and walked toward the elevator. When I didn't hear his door close, I peeked over my shoulder to find Trey lingering in the doorway, his head tilted down. I could guess that his eyes were on the generous roundness of my ass.
I turned the corner, then pressed the button for the elevator.
Since I was moving against traffic, the drive home was pleasant. When I pulled up to the house and saw lights on, I knew that O'Neal was home. All of that talk about being unashamed to go home in the daylight in the clothes I wore last night stuck in my throat.
I entered through the kitchen and hung my key on its hook. O'Neal leaned against the counter in a sleeveless t-shirt and plaid lounge pants with one of my mother's gigantic stoneware bowls balanced in his palm, likely full of cereal.
"Look who just walked in this door at—" He leaned over to check the time. "7:30 in the morning? Looking smug and satisfied, too." O'Neal spooned a mouthful of cereal and spoke while crunching Cheerios. "I cannot wait to hear this shit. Where have you been, Esme?"
I set my bag down on the seat next to him, then headed straight for the coffee grinder. "I should really ignore you because it's none of your business."
"I will troll the shit out of you. Don’t try me, Esme. Where. the hell. you been?"
"I was with Trey. Alright?" I poured beans into the grinder, then ground them and tapped out a few tablespoons of ground coffee. I turned the stove on under the kettle to boil water for the French press, then turned to face him.
"We worked late. I stayed over. When did you get home?"
"About midnight. They delayed my flight in Istanbul, so we didn't get in until late, then I went out with the crew. So when I got home, and you weren't here, I pulled up the Find My Friends app. Somebody's fast ass was in midtown. When you still weren't home this morning, I checked the app again and saw that you were coming this way."
"What are you doing up, if you just got home?" O'Neal would typically have a day off after a long trip.
"I got a call to cover a flight. I'll take the hours. Stop stalling and tell me what's up."
"There's nothing up. Seriously. We just… are hanging out."
"Hanging out. All night. At his place in midtown." O'Neal tipped his head to the side. "Y'all fuckin'?"
"No. We are not fucking."
"Y'all doing everything but fuckin'?" That… I couldn't lie about. O'Neal knew me too well, and I couldn't hide the truth if I tried. "I don't even know why I asked, actually. Y'all doin' something; it's all over your face. I thought you didn't want anything to do with him?"
"I know what I'm doing, O'Neal."
"Do you, Es? Explain it to me."
“O’Neal, you told me to get with him!"
"I told you to fuck him. I don't want you to get into a drawn-out entanglement, get your heart dragged behind a nigga taking from you like he's your man, but calling it hanging out. We are too old for that shit, Esme."
"That's not what's happening, O'Neal—" A whistle from the kettle interrupted. I turned the knob on the stove to remove the heat, then poured the boiling water into the press and put the lid on the carafe.
"You said you know what you're doing. So, explain it."
So, I explained it, while I waited for my coffee to brew. The remnants of Honey Nut Cheerios grew soggy in the puddle of milk at the bottom of O'Neal's cereal bowl.
“Es, if anybody was watching you, they'd assume you were already sleeping with him. May as well go on and do it."
"I know. But between us, we want to say we didn't and not have to lie."
"You like him, then? I mean… you must, rolling in here the morning after."