The black hole bordering her universe had just expanded. Tears of anguish and frustration formed at the corners of her eyes and slid down her cheeks.
Michelle wiped the wet streaks from her face and shoved the letter under her spread of bills when Andre came in.
“Mommy, I can’t get this in my backpack. Mrs. Miller said I could bring Mr. Wiggles to sleep with.”
Andre’s stuffed bear, which was almost as big as he was, protruded butt-first from his bag full of toys and games.
Michelle smiled weakly at her son and got up to take hold of his backpack.
“Why don’t you just carry Mr. Wiggles?”
“Then people will see.”
“Oh.” Michelle got it. He was too big to be seen with a bear but still wanted to sleep with it. “Hmm. I know.” She went to her closet and started digging around. “I have one of those bags that tightens with a rope and goes over your back. I think he’d fit in there. Is that okay?”
She got Andre situated, sent another email to her lawyer, left Andre with the sitter and made it to her class. But she was a bit unhinged that evening. At her car, she finalized plans with Rashad for the weekend and turned to get in. He pulled her back.
“You okay tonight?”
“Yeah, just distracted. Nothing that we need to talk about,” she added to cut him off.
“I want an update on you this weekend,” he said and drew her in for a long kiss.
At first Michelle couldn’t give herself to the moment, but as Rashad’s lips pressed against hers, they stilled her. Then she felt his tongue move into her mouth. She pressed her body against his and felt him tighten his grip on her back. As his mouth explored hers, she could feel the heat rising in him, and his inflamed manhood pressed against her hip. She murmured, wanting to feel it against her sex, and her hips tilted toward him. As if reading her mind, he cupped her bottom and brought her flush against him. A brief moan escaped her throat, and wetness flooded her center.
When they broke the kiss, she was flushed and breathy.
“Do I still have it going on?” Rashad teased.
In response, Michelle only rapped his chest with the back of her hand and smiled.
He pulled back. “Don’t forget. I want an update on you this weekend.”
“Okay,” she said, but she was already wondering if she should still go out with him considering what was going on.
“Promise?”
“Okay.”
And Michelle kept her promise, at least partly.
When he picked her up, she was wearing an African-print dress that Regina had given her for her last birthday and her African mudcloth wrap. Rashad planned to show Michelle another part of the city, and, on their way, she updated him on her classes, how she had done on her midterms, Andre (who was at the sitter’s for the rest of the day) and how far she’d gotten on the project for a women’s center logo that she wanted to add to her portfolio.
He listened to everything. Then he said, “And so what was really going on on Wednesday?”
Michelle sighed. “I thought I’d gotten around that.”
Rashad shook his head and smiled.
“Well, nothing I want to talk about—just a bit of disturbing news in the mail.”
He waited, but she didn’t go on. He had her hand, and he lifted it to his lips before rubbing her fingers.
“You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know.”
He squeezed her hand. “Do you really know?” he insisted.
“Yes,” she said. “I know.”
“There’s no part of you I don’t want to know.”
He lifted her fingers to his lips again.
“Okay,” she said. After a couple moments of quiet, she shot the question back at him. “What about you? Give me an update.”
He told her how his project for work had turned out, what he was working on next and how Shaka was doing, and then they pulled into the crescent of parking spaces at the Tidal Basin.
“I’ve seen the monuments,” Michelle said. “Well, I’ve driven by the monuments.”
They both chuckled.
“Yes,” Rashad countered, “but have you gone out in one of the paddleboats at the Tidal Basin?”
“What?”
“Today is a water-themed day.”
“I don’t swim well,” Michelle said.
“Yes, that’s why everybody has to wear those big orange life vests.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I kid you not.”
Michelle looked down at herself. “I have on a dress.”
Rashad followed the line of her gaze. “I don’t see the problem.”
“I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
Both of them chuckled.
They had a fun time paddling the basin for an hour, and then they walked the basin a bit to see the cherry blossom trees even though they weren’t in bloom. They continued their walk up to the National Mall and into the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden.
Michelle was delighted by the works.
“Oh, look at these.”
They stopped in front of piece called Thinker on a Rock, by Barry Flanagan. It was an obvious homage to Rodin’s The Thinker, which had a man sitting on a rock. This one was a big bunny sitting on a rock. Michelle and Rashad were amused when they saw it.
After the Sculpture Garden, Rashad drove them to the waterfront in D.C. He had booked them seats on a Spirit of Washington dinner cruise along the Potomac. Michelle was overwhelmed.
“You didn’t have to go through all this.”
“It was no trouble. This way, you can see some of D.C., and we can eat while you’re doing it.”
They boarded on time, waited on the deck for push off and went below just after that to be seated for dinner. Rashad got them a seat by the window.
“Keep a lookout. This is the city you never go out to see.”
Michelle was still stunned by the whole thing.
“This is expensive,” she said. “We could have done something free.”
Rashad laughed. “We’ll do free stuff, as well. Which reminds me, next weekend is the Kennedy Center with my family. I’ll get you the details.”
“Your family?”
“Yes, and pay no attention, none whatsoever, to what any of my brothers say about me.”
Rashad laughed, but Michelle was suspicious.
“They’re your brothers. They probably know you quite well.”
“Okay. You might not get to come along.”
She put on a pout, and he grinned. Then he got serious. “I really want you there.”
“Okay.”
“But for tonight, dinner and dancing and—”
“I haven’t danced since I was a wild child.”
“It’ll come back to you. Or not,” Rashad said and laughed.
Michelle swung at his shoulder.
“Hey, don’t get my dander up. Mama used to put down. You might not want to get me started. Just give me some house music.”
“I don’t know that they’ll have any house music here.”
“What kind of music will they have?” Michelle asked.
“I don’t know,” Rashad said. “Probably something neither of us can dance to.”
After dinner, they did dance. They did a fast set, and then the music turned slow. Rashad opened his arms, and Michelle stepped into them. He had put on the jacket that went with his suit before they boarded, and Michelle wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. When he drew her closer, her chest grazed the front of his suit. Her nipples constricted, and she inhaled.
“I wish I could kiss your breasts,” he whispered in her ear.
His voice was deep an
d close and sent a shiver down her back. She dipped her head to his shoulder and suppressed a murmur. This man was turning her on.
She pressed closer to him and could feel that he was turned on, as well, and that escalated her flame. She started to run her fingers along the exposed part of his neck and could feel his manhood leap against her.
“I like that,” Michelle said.
“Like what?”
“Feeling you against me.”
She felt his smile against her cheek and cupped his face in her hands to kiss him.
When the music sped up again, they collected her wrap from the table and went up on deck. She spent the rest of the cruise watching the sights from the bow with Rashad’s arms wrapped around her. He kept giving her small touches—his hand at her waist, his lips at her forehead, his fingers intertwining with hers. And his touches kept turning her on. She touched him, too, but she couldn’t tell what effect she was having.
They went back to her place after the cruise. They clutched one another even before the door closed, her hands brushing his chest and his palms lifting her against him.
“Wait,” Michelle said. “Let me turn on the light and check on Andre.”
She flipped on the light switch and got her phone and went to the window as she dialed Mrs. Miller’s number, peering into the darkness for any strange figures.
She couldn’t see anything because it was too dark, and it occurred to her that she was the one who could be seen. She shut the curtain. She wondered briefly if she should have Rashad there. They should have gone to his place. But then she wouldn’t be here in time to pick up Andre. She was relieved to reach Mrs. Miller and find that Andre was doing fine and was fast asleep with Mr. Wiggles.
“I’ll be there on time. Am I keeping you up?”
“No, dear. I’m a night owl. I’ll see you soon.”
She turned around and found that Rashad had disappeared.
“We have about an hour and a half,” she called.
“Okay,” he answered, and she followed the sound of his voice.
She found him in her room. His jacket and shirt were off, and he was looking at her pile of papers and books for school.
“Advertising is serious business,” he said when she walked in.
“Yes, it is.”
Rashad turned to her bookshelf and began perusing the titles.
Michelle looked around her room. All her furniture was worn, and some of Andre’s things were strewn about the floor. It certainly wasn’t a boudoir for seduction, and it definitely didn’t match the quality Rashad was used to.
He was looking at the photographs on the wall next to her bed. He pointed to the biggest one.
“Andre?”
“Yep, that’s my sweetie.”
“I hope I get to meet him soon.”
He seemed earnest, and Michelle smiled, touched that he was interested enough in her that he wanted to meet her son.
She went over to where he stood, faced him and began running her hands along his chest. He still had on his undershirt, and she lifted it over his head. Then she started to kiss his neck. When she moved to his chest, he held her shoulders and pulled her upward.
“Last time you said I could finish what I was doing next time. Tonight I get to put my lips on you.”
“No, we started with me last time. This time, we’re starting with you.”
“Last time—”
Michelle cut Rashad off by sucking one of his nipples into her mouth. She ran her hand along his chest and squeezed the other nipple between her fingers. Being in control of him this way was making her start to throb.
As she licked and tweaked his nipples, Michelle ran her other hand down the front of his pants, finding his swollen manhood. She rubbed, and his member leaped against her palm. Rashad groaned.
Michelle felt herself getting wetter and wetter, and she knew what she wanted to do.
Still caressing his manhood, she pulled her head up.
“Did you bring any protection?” she asked and held out her hand.
Rashad took his wallet out of his pocket as she undid his belt and zipper and slid her hand inside his pants. His sex pulsed against her hand, and he thrust his hips. He swallowed hard as he handed her the condom.
She pulled down Rashad’s pants and backed him onto the bed. She knew that the desire in her body could be read all over her face, but she didn’t care.
Once she had his pants off, she slipped the disk over him and lowered her head to follow it. It was easy giving to a man who had given so much to her before, and that made this different from everything she was used to. She wanted to make this good for him before letting him make it good for her again.
Her lips slid down his hot sex, and her tongue licked upward. He groaned and pushed gently against her mouth. She wanted to make this good.
Chapter 8
Rashad put his hands in his pockets and rocked up and down on his heels. He had on one of his more expensive suits—a two-piece navy set from Ralph Lauren—and he was standing in the lobby of the Kennedy Center across from the ticket counter.
“Don’t worry, baby bro,” Keith said, clapping him on the back. “She’ll be here.”
His parents, brothers and in-laws were milling about as they waited for Michelle, the only one who had not yet arrived.
It might not have mattered if he introduced women to his family regularly, but he never did, so that made it an occasion.
“I told you that if you play around too long, you might miss the right one,” Derrick said.
Rashad dropped his head and rolled his eyes.
“Okay, okay.” It was Marcus chiming in. “Let’s not rattle him. She’s just late.”
His mother came toward him. “Here’s my baby. You must be worried,” she said and gave him a long hug. Over his mother’s shoulder, Rashad gave his brothers a look that said “so there.” Only the baby of his family could get away with that. “She’ll be along.”
“I know, Mom. It’s okay,” he said, patting his mother’s back and trying to extricate himself from her doting embrace.
His father laid an arm on his shoulder. He was taller than his father, as well. “We’ve got time,” his father said. “We’ll give it another ten minutes. Come, Rosa. Let’s go look at what they got on sale with the girls.”
His parents headed off, and his brothers finally gave him some space.
She was standing six feet from him, and he didn’t know her until she turned around.
She was stunning. She had on a close-fitting purple cocktail gown that tapered down to her knees. It was made of a shimmering material, and there was a wide ruffle at the waist that flared out over her hips and bottom. The tight upper bodice dipped into a low V at her breasts, and the back dipped down to the waist. It was crisscrossed with ribbon. Over that she wore a see-through cover-up of the same color made of a glittering gauzy material. It was longer than the gown and had a large pleat at the neck so that it opened out behind her. The cover-up also had a high collar that she wore up. This look was accented with two-inch heels and a small pocketbook.
Her hair was up on the crown of her head in a tall bun, with wisps trailing down her neck and temples. The bun had purple rhinestones in it and was surrounded at the base by a low, circular tiara made of the same stones. Her face was made up to the nines. She had a subtle band of purple eyeliner around her eyes, accenting a soft purple eye shadow with a hint of purple blush at her cheeks—flawless.
It almost wasn’t her, but then there was that puckering of her cheeks that made her face always on the verge of a smile. And her smile was there, too. She was so breathtaking that his jaw dropped. He had dated gorgeous women before, but seeing Michelle this way gave a new meaning to his standards.
She rushed over to him.
“Sorry I’m late. I—”
He kissed her lightly.
“You look beautiful.”
She smiled and curtsied.
“Thank you, but it’s not mine. I don’t own anything so fancy. Regina let me rummage through her going-out collection. I’m so glad you like it. I didn’t know what to wear to the Kennedy Center, and it made me think of The Color Purple. I hope the show hasn’t started without us. Are we locked out until intermission?”
His brothers and in-laws had seen them and started to drift over, but she was talking so fast that he couldn’t make the introductions.
“I’m sorry I’m late. There are so many circles in this city! I think I got sent around every one of them—Logan Circle, Dupont Circle—”
“You went around Dupont Circle coming from Greenbelt to the Kennedy Center?” Rashad asked and started to laugh.
“Don’t you start to tease me again. I took a route I knew. Wait,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “Where’s your mother? I’m going to put a stop to this right now.”
Standing behind her, his brothers started to laugh; Keith whooped in glee. She turned and noticed the row of well-dressed men and looked back to him, clamping her mouth shut apologetically.
He smiled and took her arm, and they stepped toward his brothers.
“Michelle, this is my older brother Keith, the one making a fool of himself by hooting in the theater. This is our older brother Marcus and his partner, Trevor. And this is our older brother Derrick, the sedate one.”
Michelle had clasped each of their hands in turn, and now she got a quizzical look in her eyes.
She turned to them. “Is this one the baby of the family? Are you the youngest? That explains a lot. And Mama spoiled him rotten, didn’t she?” His brothers were nodding in assent, and Keith even clapped.
“She’s got your number,” Keith said.
“Well, I don’t know if Mama will be of any help at all—not with her baby.”
“I’ll stand in for her,” Derrick said. “What’s he doing?”
“He keeps teasing me because I don’t know D.C. that well. I work. I go to school. I don’t drive a tour bus.”
In His Arms Page 7