But if he allowed her to, she would again, in painstaking detail, illuminate all the reasons why she was ready to retire and how if it wasn’t for “that girl,” referring to Leila, they’d all be much richer and happier…and satisfied.
“She’s just like that old aunt of hers, God rest her soul,” she said, and quickly made the sign of the cross before continuing her diatribe, lips pinched, face twisted up. “Always telling us what was good for us. We are all grown here, we know what’s good for us, and what’s good for us—me, y’all,” she said, pointing a bony finger around the crowded room, “is to finally get what is due to us, so we can move on!”
A smattering of murmurs accompanied her comment, and although Brandan knew the majority of the occupants of the room loved Leila, they were clearly frustrated with her refusal to sell.
Unbeknownst to Leila, over the course of the last few weeks, he’d received emails and phone calls that clearly showed their growing ire.
And although he wanted—needed—to bring the sell to a close, a small part of him was angry with the way she was being treated.
Over the last couple of weeks, he had been frequenting the diner. Most of the times he made it in just before closing, and she would sit and talk to him for long stretches of time. A few times he’d gotten up earlier than usual and after his daily run, had made it through his daily routine in record time in order to come by the diner for breakfast.
After the first few times, he knew he was growing on her. When he would enter the café, within moments their eyes would meet, and although she tried to hide her pleasure at seeing him, he’d caught the flash of that sexy dimple in the corner of her lips before she could erase it.
They’d avoided talking about the sale of the café. He knew he should be trying to persuade her to sell, but whenever he saw her, the furthest thing on his mind had been trying to convince her to sign away her café.
One part of him didn’t want her to. She belonged right where she was; her passion for the café went beyond simply owning the business and catering to her loyal customers. Aunt Sadie’s was her link to her deceased great-aunt, one that he didn’t want to destroy.
The others in the room began to talk among themselves, their discontent with the situation clear.
He sighed.
The last time he’d come by Sadie’s had been several days ago, before he’d had to take a trip to Austin on business. Just walking into the inviting café, with it’s down-home good smells, familiar looking customers, ones he’d come to know were her regulars, had filled him with warm feelings he’d never experienced before, either growing up or as an adult.
Her regulars were like family to her. She smiled and told jokes and laughed with them. And not those fake tinkling laughs the women he knew gave, the ones that were either purposefully seductive, or polite little giggles.
No, she gave full-out laughs, the kind where the corners of her almond-shaped eyes would nearly close and her face would split wide in a smile. She had a full-out, honest laugh. One that was as appealing as she.
He had come in at breakfast, sneaking in early before the downtown traffic had become hell, and she’d been sitting with one of her customers, one he hadn’t seen before, but one he could tell was yet another devotee of Leila.
He’d laughed. Hell, at least this one was a woman, and he didn’t have to worry that it was another hapless male to add to her stable.
Not that she couldn’t have a woman after her.
There was only the two of them in the café, as it was five in the morning and she’d just opened the doors. But the pair weren’t giving off any sexual vibes that he could sense. Particularly as Leila looked so casual sitting there with the woman, her typical high heel shoes on the floor next to her, the two drinking coffee and laughing like two friends, not like lovers.
As soon as she’d seen him enter, she whispered something to the other woman, who looked at him and seemed to be fighting back a smile. She pulled Leila down and whispered something back in her ear that had both women giggling like schoolgirls, and Leila had pulled away and sauntered over to him.
He’d rewarded her saucy behavior by pulling her into his arms and kissing her fully on the mouth.
“Hmmm. What—what was that for?” she murmured, looking up at him, her eyes crinkling in the corner.
“Just because.”
“Just because…?”
“Just because I think it’s time we settled a few things between us.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again, lightly pressing his tongue deep into her mouth and capturing her tongue with his.
He’d expected her to resist, pull back, but she didn’t. Instead she settled deeper into his embrace. Wrapping both arms around him, she ran her hands through the back of his hair, pulling him closer.
Brandan tightened his hold, placed one hand on the curve of her waist and the other into her head, wrapping several of her long dreads around his hands, and deepened the kiss.
When his shaft stirred to hot and immediate life, he almost forgot they weren’t alone, and pressed her closer. A cough…several coughs…from the lone customer brought them both out of their private little retreat.
Wild color filled her golden brown cheeks when she pulled away, just as several customers were entering the café.
“You are bad,” she admonished him, in a slightly breathless tone.
Brandan only smiled, and watched her sweet hips and long legs carry her away with that sexy walk of hers as she greeted her new customers.
He turned around and laughed out loud, shrugging when the woman she’d been talking with was staring at him, shaking her head with a deep smile on her pretty face.
“Look, I know you all want to sell, and I’m doing my best to make that happen.”
“Humph! If your best is hangin’ out at that café every day flirtin’ with that girl, then I think it’s ’bout time we come up with a different game plan,” Ms. Mayflower interjected, and Brandan penned the woman with a glance.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that, ma’am. Anything going on between that girl and myself is purely business. No need for you to worry. I’ll get her to agree, make no mistake,” he said out of anger.
The old woman was really starting to get on his nerves. This wasn’t the first of her sly innuendoes about his motivation in going to Aunt Sadie’s. In fact, he’d not told any of them about his regular visits because it really wasn’t anyone’s business. That was, until the old woman had made a comment earlier in the meeting about it, making sure everyone within earshot heard her.
Nosy bitch, he thought, and immediately felt bad for thinking of her like that, but out of all the tenants in this deal, this woman was the only one who disliked Leila, and he didn’t have a damn clue why.
“Can you promise us you’ll convince her to sign soon? We’re not getting any younger, you know.”
Brandan had had enough. It was time to go, and he wanted to go by Aunt Sadie’s before Leila left. He hadn’t been able to get to the café in several days, and like a kid with a crush, he was desperate to see her.
He glanced impatiently at the clock mounted in the far corner of the room, and just as he was opening his mouth to bring the meeting to a close, he spotted Leila.
The look on her stricken face tore into his gut like a tsunami, devastating and complete.
She turned and rushed out of the room before he could take two steps toward her.
11
Angry tears ran down Leila’s face, unchecked. She swiped them away with an angry balled-up fist as she put the keys into the ignition, revved the motor of her jeep, and peeled out of the small parking lot.
How dare he!
“Damn it, how fucking dare he!” she cried out and swerved, narrowly missing the curb as she angrily downshifted on the gear stick and swung out into the darkened street.
Listening to him as he told that old Ms. Mayflower how he was “handling” the situation, how he would make sure they all got theirs, f
illed her with so much anger she could barely see straight.
She should have known better.
“Stupid me! I thought he cared about me. All he cared about was trying to work me into agreeing to sell Aunt Sadie’s. And hey, maybe get a little pussy in the process. Damn his ass!” she cried and sniffed, before moving one hand from the death-grip hold she had on the steering wheel to feel around in the dark interior of her Jeep for a tissue.
She glanced behind her and narrowed her eyes after she noticed the bright lights of another vehicle following close behind her.
“That had better not be his ass following me,” she mumbled, and after several miles she knew without a doubt that it was.
“He can follow me ’til hell freezes over, for all the good it’s going to do him,” she murmured, continuing her one-sided diatribe with herself.
When she pulled into the driveway of her loft, she calmly turned off the ignition and jumped out of her Jeep, grabbing her purse, and walked toward her door.
He turned in behind her within moments of her arrival, and unfurled his long frame from behind the wheel of his low-slung sportscar.
“Leila…wait!”
Leila turned to face him after she’d unlocked the door.
“Baby, please—”
“Baby? I think not. What. Do. You. Want?”
After asking, she turned away from him, and looked out over the dark street. As hurt as she was, as angry as she was, she couldn’t stand to look at his face, and had to give herself a moment.
She turned back to face him and in the porch-lit night, she saw the fine tinge of red running along his cheeks. The fact that he called her baby seemed to register on him and he looked as surprised as she at the endearment.
“I can explain. It wasn’t what it looked like,” he said, and she laughed harshly.
“I know what I saw and heard, Brandan. I’m not stupid. Come on, now, give me a little more cred than that! But you know, in all actuality, you don’t owe me any explanations. You don’t owe me a damn thing. Now, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
She turned to leave.
He reached out and pulled her back around to face him.
“Please…”
“Please what? What can you possibly say?” she cried and pulled away from him.
“Can I come in? Do we have to discuss this outside?”
Leila bit her bottom lip and stared up at him, undecided.
“Please, just let me in,” he begged, his voice low.
She turned and opened the door. Once inside she made a motion with her hand for him to follow her. She ignored the flip in her stomach when she saw the look of relief flash across his handsome face, but backed away when he reached out to touch her.
His hand dropped away as she turned around and entered the loft, throwing her purse on the small sofa in the middle of the room, and she turned to him.
“So, you’ll take care of it? You’ll take care of me, huh?” she said, and crossed her arms over her chest.
When his cheeks flushed red, she quirked a brow and waited for his response.
12
“It wasn’t like that, I—”
“Oh, no? Then what was it like, Brandan? From where I stood, it appeared as though that was just what it was,” she countered.
With that, she slid her shoes off her feet, although sliding wasn’t exactly what she did. She kicked them off so hard they skidded across the ceramic tile flooring and landed with a soft whoosh against a corner of the room.
Damn. She was pissed off.
“Look, I don’t know how much you heard.” He began to walk toward her as she busied herself in her kitchen, opened a cabinet and furiously slammed a old-fashioned looking red tea kettle in the sink, and filled it with water.
He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to calm down. There wasn’t any use trying to talk to her until then.
But he wasn’t about to leave and allow her to stew and think all kinds of shit about what had happened, things that weren’t true, without defending himself.
He glanced around the loft, and although his mind was on her and her alone, he admired the eclectic design of her home, one that mimicked the café, a curious blend of antiques, modern, and straight-out funky looking furnishings dominated the large, open loft.
The living area, in fact the entire loft, was open, and the only area that was sectioned off was the kitchen and, his eyes spanned over the area, the bedroom. Or the bed to be exact. It was raised and positioned on a high dais. There was also a sectioned-off area which he assumed was the bathroom.
His eyes went back to the bed dominating one corner of the large loft.
It was a four-poster canopy, complete with sheer red netting that wrapped around the circumference of the bed, enveloping it, giving it the appearance of a warm, inviting cocoon.
He turned back to her and caught her staring at him.
“You know what? I really thought, stupid me, that there was more to—” she waved her hands around and then blew out a harsh breath, “us, whatever…hell, I don’t even know what to call this strange relationship of ours,” she admitted, running a shaking hand over her hair.
“What’s so strange about it?” he asked, walking closer to her. “We’re two people who are getting to know each other. Two people who are attracted to one another. All the rest, is it really important?”
“This was a bad idea,” she said, slamming the teapot down on the counter, facing him.
“What was a bad idea? You inviting me in, or you throwing a tantrum over nothing?” he asked.
“I know what I heard!” she said, coming from behind the small kitchen island.
When she went to walk past him, he grabbed her wrist.
“You need to let go of me. Now,” she said, her mouth tightening, eyes narrowed as she stared down at his hand, loosely wrapped around her wrist.
When he ignored her, kept his hand firmly circling her wrist, she jerked her arm, snatching it out of his grip. When she moved to walk away from him, he grabbed her, hauling her close to his chest.
“Let me go. You’re going too damn far,” she bit out furiously.
“No, not until you listen to me, Leila! I wasn’t trying to manipulate you, trick you, sabotage you, or whatever the hell else you’re thinking!”
“Let me go,” she said again, as though he hadn’t heard her the first time.
“Damn, you’re stubborn! What do I have to do, to say, to show you that you mean more to me than what I can get out of your property?”
A furious expression crossed her face, and when she hauled back a hand as though to hit him, he caught her wrist, holding it tight, yet not tight enough to hurt her.
“I wouldn’t suggest you do that,” he murmured, his breath coming out in harsh gasps as though he’d just run a marathon.
“No?” she asked, her breath coming out equally harsh. “And what do you suggest I do? And what are you going to do about it?” she threw the challenge at him, the ends of her nostrils flaring as her amber eyes roamed over his face.
“This,” he bit out, and covered her mouth with his.
She grabbed onto the back of his head and pulled him tighter, closer. With a harsh groan he lifted her in his arms, and with long strides carried her to her bed.
He didn’t bother to release her lips as he swiftly divested her of her clothing. He simply snatched her skirt down her long legs, buttons and zippers ripping, and nearly tore her panties in half as he ripped them from her body.
Seconds later he’d taken off her blouse, and after fumbling with her bra, removed it as well.
“God!” he murmured as he pulled his lips from hers and gazed down at her laying beneath him, her golden-colored small breasts tumbling free. He firmly cupped one in his hand, thumbing the tight wine-colored nipple until it spiked hard and long.
Dizziness swarmed in Leila’s head when he took her nipple deep into his mouth, pulling the rest of her breast within the warm, wet cavern, a
nd suckled her hard.
As he nursed her breast, she shoved her hands between them, unfastened the buttons on his jeans and eased a hand inside his shorts.
When she grasped his penis, she slid her hand over his thick shaft, and felt her own cream ease from her vagina at the thought of how hard and thick he was, and how good he would feel imbedded deep inside her.
Her anger vanished, going up in smoke while her passion, a lustful passion she’d had for months for him, even before they’d met, burned bright and hot. Temporarily, anger and hurt feelings were set aside.
Her body hummed with pleasure as his mouth, so wet, so warm, pulled and tugged at her breasts.
He pulled his mouth from her breasts and she cried out.
“Ssh, it’s okay, baby,” he murmured, and helped her shed his pants before tossing them over the side of the bed. He lifted his body from hers, pulled his shirt over his head, and turned back to face her.
Her breath caught at the sight of him in the dim light, kneeling on her bed. His thick shaft was long and so full, curved against his lightly furred stomach, and the bulbous knob thumped past his navel.
With a glint in his eyes he rolled on top of her and snaked his big, hard body down hers to settle between her thighs.
He leaned into the V of her legs and inhaled.
“Damn, your pussy smells good,” he groaned before pushing her legs up so that her feet lay flat on the bed, her knees wide apart.
Expecting to feel the strong sweep of his tongue against her folds, her body arced off the bed when she felt the tip of his tongue tap against the sensitive seam between her pussy and ass, his fingers digging into the cheeks of her buttocks, spreading it wide, so he could continue his freaky assault.
“No, God, what are you—”
She gasped, her words cut off when he plunged a thick finger deep into her core, while rimming her with his hot, wicked tongue.
He held her down when she would have bucked him off, trailing his tongue along the seam between her buttocks and pussy and down her inner thigh.
“Ummm,” she moaned and reared her body up, reaching down to grasp his head. With a guttural laugh he shoved her hands away and pinned them to side of her hips.
Scream My Name Page 8