Relationship Goals

by Christina C Jones

  “Wha-wait. No!” I said, voicing my disapproval when he took his hand away, and pulled back. My frustration was short-lived though, because he easily snatch my dress over my head, then made equally quick work of ridding me of my bra and panties, leaving me completely nude on top of his kitchen table.

  He took a step away like he was trying to get a better view, and I leaned back on my hands, giving him one.

  “How are you this damn beautiful?” he asked, and I smiled.

  “Blessed, I guess.”

  He grinned as he approached me again, grabbing the back of one of the chairs to pull with him. He put that chair right in front of me, right between my legs, and then sat down, looking me right in the eyes.

  “I absolutely agree.”

  He pulled his lip between his teeth as his eyes raked over my body again, and then raised his hands to cup my breasts. His hands were big enough – and I was small enough there – that he completely covered me, cupping and squeezing before he raised up from his seat enough to cover one nipple with his mouth while he pulled the other between his fingers.

  “Ahhhh,” I whimpered, at the feeling of his teeth grazing and pulling at my nipples, sending a shockwave of pleasure through me. He pulled back, eyes wide with alarm.

  “Too rough?”

  “What? No.” My hands went to his head, bringing him back, and he chuckled before he sucked hard, then switched sides, giving both breasts attention, back and forth, until my nipples were hard as rocks. He kissed me... everywhere. My areolas, on the sides, the little creases underneath, then down my stomach, down my pelvis, until he was back in his seat. His gaze locked on, from the look on his face, what he surely considered to be treasure between my legs.

  “Mmmm,” I said, unable to help making a sound of pleasure when all he did was hook his arm around my thigh.

  He looked up at me, smirked, then kissed a line from my knee to the juncture of my thighs, where he stopped and took a deep inhale, letting out a long, satisfied groan afterward. “You smell like exactly what I’m about to treat you like,” he told me, with a lazy, lusty grin I couldn’t help returning, because I knew exactly what he meant.

  Dessert.

  My mouth watered as he lowered his head, already craving what I knew was coming. He kissed the insides of my thighs, the soft folds of my labia, even the curve of my ass. Everything except what I needed him to kiss.

  “Nick,” I whimpered, when he kissed me just above my clit, leaving behind the tantalizing heat of his contact.

  “What’s up? Is this what you want?” he asked, flicking his tongue over me in a barely-there trace that made me shudder.

  “Stop teasing, plea—mmmmm...” My appeal turned into a grateful whine as he licked me hard, then closed his mouth over my sex, slurping at me with his tongue. I dug my fingers into his thick hair as he went lower, dipping his tongue into me and then coming back, licking and kissing his way over my slick flesh.

  I was so, so wet, and that seemed to spur Nick on. He licked, sucked, slurped, and kissed until my thighs were shaking and the bottom half of his face was covered in my juices, and then he went back for more, growling under his breath about how I “tasted so fucking good”.

  Nick did this like he was hungry for me, putting his tongue in places that felt too good for me to be shamed or shocked about it. I did my best to keep my legs open as I gripped his hair, and then his ears, keeping his face buried between my thighs.

  From the greedy sounds coming from him, I was pretty sure he was enjoying himself.

  He had me so far gone I was screaming his name even before the white-hot coil of pleasure in my core built into an orgasm. But then it imploded, sweeping me in a wave of bliss so strong I collapsed backward on the table, thighs locked around his head as tremors rushed through me.

  Vaguely, I felt him maneuver out of my leg lock, but I couldn’t open my eyes. Or move anything else, for that matter. After a moment, I felt him come back, and there was a warm towel between my legs for a bit before it was gone.

  When I opened my eyes, he was standing over me, wearing the sexiest, cockiest grin.

  “Come on,” he said, holding up my dress. “I don’t want you mad at me because you missed your flight.”

  9

  #NICK

  So.

  I missed her.

  I hated I had to hear her voice through a speaker, hated she wasn’t close enough to touch, hated relying on a screen to show me her beautiful face. But if distance was the trade-off for the privilege of access to everything that encompassed Noah... I still came out on top. So, I tried not to complain.

  Mostly.

  “You wanted this, remember?” my homeboy Savion asked, chuckling as he stirred the sizzling pan of onions in front of him. He knew I had the camera focused on what he was doing, not his face, so he apparently felt free to talk shit. “Hopped your happy ass on a plane for a girl whose last name you barely knew, showing up at her events and shit, begging for a chance. What the hell got into you?”

  I gave the slightest shake of my head, focused on keeping the camera steady as I panned away from the skillet to capture the counter, and then – for now – an out-of-focus shot of the cookbook that laid open beside him before I ended the shot.

  I didn’t know what had gotten into me. It was like I’d seen something I wanted – Noah – and focused solely on getting it. But once I had her, all the doubts and negative possibilities I’d put on ice came rushing to the forefront, ready to infect that good vibe I’d been on since I first laid eyes on her in the airport, wiping coffee off my fingers.

  It had infected that good vibe.

  But, with Noah being who she was, there hadn’t been time for it to fester. She pushed the people in her audience to demand communication, encouraged emotional integrity, all of that. She wasn’t just talking it – she lived it, which only contributed to the high value I’d given her in my mind. I’d never have to wonder with Noah, and that was priceless.

  “I think that’s it for you,” I told Savion, putting the camera down. “Everything else is product shots, since we already got some stuff of you in action, cooking, using the book, talking about the book, all that.”

  He nodded, taking the skillet off the fire before coming around the counter to dap me up. “Thank you again for doing this, Nick. Don’t hurt me too bad with the invoice though,” he laughed, and I joined him.

  “Nah, you know me. It’ll be light work for you, superstar. You’re the one all on TV and shit, don’t tell me you not rich, dude.”

  Savion dropped onto a bar stool, shaking his head. “I am definitely not that,” he chuckled. “Hell, with the way the network is acting, my ass might not be on TV anymore either.”

  “They’re still tripping about the book?”

  “They are still tripping about the book.”

  As celebrity chefs went, Sav was an up-and-comer, but because of our internet-obsessed generation, his social media capital was through the roof. Hell, social media was how he’d gotten on Savor network anyway, after several videos of him cooking shirtless – but in an apron – had gone viral.

  Videos I shot for him.

  They weren’t exactly my favorite thing to do, but I’d known Savion since we were kids. He’d kicked ass on the playground for me when I wasn’t healthy enough to do it myself, helped me across the stage at our high school graduation, all kinds of shit I could never replay.

  If he wanted to corner the market on half-naked cooking, knowing women would go wild for it, then dammit that’s what we were gonna do.

  And... it worked.

  Those videos – beautifully filmed masterpieces they were – got attention at Savor, a subsidiary of the WAWG network, which was kind of a staple in the Black community. Or... used to be. Lately, they’d been on some bullshit that wasn’t limited to Savor. There were rumors of a sale happening, and I almost hoped it was true. As long as it didn’t go the way of so many other historically Black companies, and instead ended up in hands t
hat would restore the former glory.

  When Savion decided to do his cookbook, he hadn’t wanted Savor’s hands anywhere near it. And because of the shitty first contract they’d put him on, not wanting to take too much of a risk on a “social media” star, he wasn’t obligated to give it to them.

  Of course though, once they found out about it, they wanted to claim ownership they didn’t rightfully have. All Sav had to do was retain fancy lawyers – no meeting ever took place, just the threat of one – and the network backed off, but banned him from even mentioning the cookbook on the network, at any official events, nothing like that.

  But that was fine – we’d made it happen before, we could make it happen again.

  And now, he could keep his shirt on.

  “Anyway – when are you going to bring your girl around?” Sav asked, using a towel from the counter to wipe his hands. “She has your ass in the house on the phone all the time, you can’t even come grab a basket of wings no more, what’s up? You can’t bring her around your homeboys, scared me or Parker gonna take her from you?”

  I scoffed. “Neither of you muhfuckas got that kinda swag, relax,” I said, laughing. “But nah, when she’s here... ain’t nobody trying to be around y’all. I want her to myself.”

  Really, it had only been two weeks since Noah’s trip to L.A. – the one where we’d come to an understanding. Sav wasn’t lying on me – in that two weeks I’d been hard to pin down, between constant running communication with Noah and fleshing out the idea for my next film.

  It had been a great two weeks though.

  “I can’t even say I blame you, man. You’ve got the right idea – get one good one and settle in. You’ve always been on that though.”

  I shrugged. “Haven’t had a choice. It takes a good one, with what I have going. But why you getting all corny and shit? Julie must have snapped on your ass again?”

  The way he slumped to the counter, laying his head down, was plenty of answer. “Never start fucking a coworker bruh. Not. Never.”

  “I told you,” I snickered. “What’s going on this time?”

  Sav sat up. “Dude – this girl pitched a fucking show to the network. A show with me and her. As a “couple”. We ain’t ever discussed any shit like that,” he insisted, emphasizing his words by slapping a hand over his fist. “Bruh, Julie makes fucking.... Spam and hash brown casseroles on her show! Her specialty she’s known for is a fucking “twenty-minute cake mix alteration”. I don’t even feel comfortable calling that stuff food, and she thinks I’m going to cook with her?”

  “Hold up, just cause you’re baby G. Garvin, Black Bobby Flay, whatever, she gotta be fancy too? She can’t cook like her big Mama cooked?”

  “Ain’t nobody’s big mama cooking that shit Nick!” Sav exclaimed, his tone legitimately offended by the suggestion. “I’m not about to be out here looking foolish with somebody that can’t cook. Julie – can’t cook.”

  “Then why do you keep dealing with her?”

  “Have you seen her? She’s fine as hell. Her skin, man... perfect brown sugar, all over.”

  I chuckled. “Aiight... gone let that “perfect brown sugar” put you in a situation you don’t wanna be in.”

  “Already did, which brings me back to – never start fucking a coworker. Shit is hella awkward now that I broke it off.”

  “You’re not serious about that shit, man,” I said, waving him off, but he shook his head.

  “Nah. As serious as you are about Noah? That’s how serious I am about deading this Julie thing.”

  “Oh. Damn. You’re... serious then.”

  “Yeah. But, back to the damn point – when are you bringing her through?”

  I looked up from packing my camera bag. “I tell you what, next time she’s out here, if she’s feeling it... I’ll make it happen.”

  ““Next time”? That’s it? Y’all don’t have a plan?”

  “It’s not exactly a hop, skip, and a jump. But, we do have a plan – I need to be at the airport in like an hour. I’ll catch you later bruh.”

  I slapped hands with Sav in parting, and then took out my phone to check as I headed to my car. I tried not to grin when I saw Noah had texted me, but we were still in that part of things where she made me giddy – a feeling my father claimed persisted when it was the right woman.

  “You made it to the airport? – Noah.”

  “Please don’t miss your plane. – Noah.”

  “OMG WHERE ARE YOU? DO NOT MISS YOUR FLIGHT!!! – Noah”

  Shaking my head, I opted not to text her back, choosing instead to simply use my car’s Bluetooth system to call.

  “You don’t sound like you’re at the airport,” she said, in lieu of hello, as soon as the call connected. “Why aren’t you at the airport?”

  I laughed. “If your ass doesn’t relax... chill. I’m on the way. I just left my homeboy’s spot doing him a favor, but my bags and stuff are already with me. I’m going to be there.”

  “I miss your face,” she said, in a low, sultry voice that reminded me of when I’d made a meal of her on my kitchen table.

  Good memories...

  “I miss your face too, gorgeous. But I’ll get to kiss it in person in a few hours. Be patient.”

  “I don’t wanna be patient,” she whined, and an easy visual of her pouting played in my mind as I chuckled. “I got my blood test results back today. I am officially not a carrier of the sickle cell trait. No abnormal hemoglobin variants here.”

  “Hey, that’s good news! I’d like to see it if you don’t mind?”

  “What, you don’t believe me?” she asked, in a teasing tone.

  “Nah, the numbers are interesting to me. Healthy blood versus... mine.”

  Noah sucked her teeth. “Why would you say it like that?”

  “Like the truth? You come on. I’m not sensitive about it – can’t be, if I want to get through the day, enjoying life. You can’t be either.”

  “I’ll try, I guess.”

  “I know you will. You’re dope like that,” I told her, knowing it would bring a smile to her face.

  And as I suspected, I could hear it in her voice when she replied, “If you think a little flattery is going to shift my mood just like that... you are absolutely right. Keep talking.”

  We stayed on the phone until I had to let her go, to get my bag checked and complete the hassle of getting through security with my delicate camera equipment and electronics intact. I always carried my equipment on when I flew with it – the weeks’ worth of clothes and shit in the bag I checked, I didn’t care much about that. My equipment though?

  That had to stay close.

  Once TSA was finished being nosy, I could move on to get to my gate. I’d timed things well enough that I had less than twenty minutes to wait before my flight started boarding, and I even managed to snag a seat until it was time.

  I hadn’t been in an airport in almost two months, not since that surprise trip. I could still barely believe I’d done that – I’d taken a chance on her working in the actual Sugar&Spice offices, or even being there that day at all. I didn’t regret it though. The fact that I’d taken on the effort of making that trip was probably the romantic gesture that saved my ass, the one that came to mind when she thought about not even dealing with me.

  But... that trip to the airport had been uneventful.

  I doubt if anybody ever thought about the airport being the place to change your life. Always the destination. A new job, family, the love of your life, a new start... when people dreamed, it was always about what happened when you left the airport. Always what was on the other end of the flight.

  And then Noah happened.

  And now I was sitting here wondering if anybody else’s world was about to shift because of a passing encounter.

  My phone chimed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Noah’s name on my screen.

  “Have a safe flight. I can’t wait to see you. – Noah.”

  “The feeling
is mutual, gorgeous.”

  #

  Damn.

  She wasn’t lying about this weather.

  I zipped my jacket a little tighter as I stepped out of the car, tossing a hand up at the driver before he pulled off. Much to Noah’s dismay, I’d stopped by my hotel first to check in and drop off my bags, not wanting to be burdened with them later.

  Now, I was wondering if the proximity to Lake Erie had anything to do with how drastically different the temperature was between here and LA. I mean, I knew “fall” didn’t mean the same thing in every part of the country, but damn – it was cold.

  I checked my surroundings to make sure I had the right building, then pushed the button next to the apartment number Noah had given me. Immediately, a hopeful “Nick?!” sounded through the speaker.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I told her, and the next sound I heard was the loud buzz of the door as the lock disengaged to let me into her building. As soon as I stepped in, I saw the elevators she’d been quick to assure me would be available, after dropping the tidbit that she lived on the top floor of the building. As the doors closed behind me, I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling... not necessarily home, but something adjacent. Not like I was away on a trip, but like I was coming back to where I was supposed to be.

  I highly doubted the feeling had much to do with the location though.

  My fist had barely hit the door to start knocking when it swung open, and Noah launched herself into me. I laughed as she grabbed me on either side of my face, pushing herself up on her toes to kiss me as I wrapped my arms around her.

  As usual, she tasted good as hell.

  I walked us inside the apartment so we weren’t giving the neighbors a show, but it was obvious neither of us were interested in disengaging our mouths, not any time soon. Without breaking the kiss, I took my jacket off, dropping it on the table by the door before I returned my hands to Noah’s waist, pulling her closer to me.

  It took a few nudges before I realized she was trying to get me to move, so I did, walking backward until I felt the couch against the back of my legs. One more nudge and I took a seat, bringing her with me to straddle my lap, making the dress she was wearing hike up around her thighs.