Changing Stiles

by Elaine Allen

  “She's not for me. I can feel that in here,” I let her know, touching a hand to my heart. “I was trying to figure out if it was gonna grow. It didn't. More importantly, I knew that it wasn't.”

  Traffic was slow, so I took the time to stare at her. “So, I had to be adult and not be selfish.” Admittedly, I had been selfish. But I wasn't going to tell her that. “We had to let go if either one of us is going to find the one who makes us feel it here.”

  Pursed lips realigned into a comforting smile. “She is nice. But if you don’t love her, you have to let her go.” She shrugs her shoulders and pulls out her cell phone.

  I guess I won't have to go into as much detail as I had hyped myself up for. Then she asks, “Is there somebody that you do love like that? I overheard Granma talking about it.”

  Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah. There is. Still working that out, so that’s to be continued. Do you like anybody?” I shoot back.

  As expected, she frowns and shakes her head. “Ewww. Dad. I'll talk to Mom about it.”

  I exit off the expressway and drive a mile to the expensive private school she attends.

  Mira waves back at me after she catches up with one of her friends. And I just sit here daydreaming.

  Ninth grade.

  Fuck me. My bug is going to be a tenth-grader in a couple of months. That means sophomore prom and homecoming dances.

  By ten thirty, all the sites were working smoothly. All the men that were scheduled have shown up and are at all their worksites. The office manager has the office under control, and I had some free time.

  All I want to do was spend it with Alieas. So, I dialed her number to see if I could scoop her. Alieas let me know that she was driving home to Maryland for a few days and I all but invited myself to tag along. I was lowkey excited as shit when she was like, ‘sure’, but then I had to make some last minute arrangements.

  I called Toya and let her know that I had a last minute trip and that she could pick bug up directly from school instead if my dropping her off at her house. She kind of laughed it off when I congratulated her on her upcoming addition to her family and said that it was unexpected. I congratulated her the same. I’m gonna call Bug during her lunch to let her know about the change in plans.

  Thirty-Two

  Alieas

  I woke up with the annoying feeling that something is off, aside from my father’s death. I can't explain what it is, but I can't shake it. My mom suggests that I make the drive home to pack some clothes and whatnot so I wouldn't have to spend unnecessary money to buy new shit. Today is Wednesday; I figure I could stay in my own bed until Friday and be back for the funeral on Saturday.

  “Just go,” she insists. “The drive will give you something to do and take your mind off of things. See if one of the girls will go with you.”

  I can’t imagine asking any of them to skip work, abandon their husbands, children, and other duties to make an impromptu road trip with me, so I don’t even bother. Instead, I pack up my stuff and prepare for the journey figuring I can probably be home by three, strategically missing all the traffic on I-95 if I left early enough.

  Carter happened to call me and when I told him my plans to drive home, he offered to come along. It’s Latoya's day to pick Mira up from school, so he is free of dad duties until Sunday. I discovered that they now shared custody of the child. Her reappearance into their lives had grown into what I’ve learned has become a productive co-parenting relationship.

  And now, we're here, together in the spacious yet intimate confines of his Mercedes ML350, making our way into suburban Germantown, MD right as the afternoon rush starts. The heated leather seats got me all relaxed and cozy. Carter had slipped some orange cream flavored Cognac in my hot tea to help me unwind, so I'm not sure how long I was asleep. All I know is that I needed it. Silently, I watch him from under my sleepy, hooded gaze. He’s come out of his coat and sweater and is stripped down to a v-neck white tee. I swallow to tamp down my immediate lust as the muscles of his arms contract as he steers and the black ink of his tattoos threaten to send me into overdrive. Even though it’s taking me a moment to gather my wits, homegirl below is wide awake and ready. I squeeze my thighs to calm her down. His brows knit together as he listens intently to his phone as Google advises him to make the next right. With a swift motion, he looks over at the side view mirror and catches me staring.

  Wet… I am soaking fucking wet as his golden eyes widen and that sexy ass smile spreads knowingly across his face, melting me into a puddle of uncontrollable desire .

  “I see you peeking,” he teases, his husky voice filling the space between us.

  Yawning, I stretch my arms and my legs as much as I’m able to. My voice is a little husky from sleep. “You trying to get me drunk on the good stuff so you can have your way with me.”

  The arching brow and a firm slap to my thigh do me all the way in. “Ha! I don't need to get you drunk to have my way with you.” He squeezes my thigh and winks mischievously.

  Dripping… saturated… ready…

  I close my eyes and they instinctively roll to the back of my head. Desire ripples, stimulating every nerve, vibrating in my bloodstream, emitting waves of “fuck me nooooow”. Instead, I offer a meager, “Thank you so much for driving. I didn't realize how tired I was. I owe you.”

  The wide hand that had squeezed my thigh moments ago now caresses my cheek. “Oh, I know. A brotha definitely cashing that in.” Seemingly amused, he throws his head back with a cocky laugh.

  “We should be at my house in a couple of minutes. You look all serious. Music all extra low like you driving Ms. Daisy or something.”

  “You got a brotha actin like Uber in this jawn. You can turn the music station if you want.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tune in to one of my favorite channels and Kate Nash is asking for the Nicest Thing. And I sing with her.

  Carter lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “I see you still be on your white girl vibe.”

  Laughing, I sit up to stare him directly in his eyes. My heart is pumping with want, and I'm full of desire, so I sing louder.

  I wish that you needed me…

  I wish that you knew when I said two sugars,

  Actually, I meant three... I hold up three fingers at him.

  I wish that without me your heart would break

  … without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake

  I wish that without me you couldn't eat

  ... thing on your mind before you went to sleep

  Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen...

  That smile, smug and knowing, says we could be something. Then his words affirm it. “I'm gonna show you all the things that we can be.”

  Carter pulls the car onto the shoulder of the road and put his hazards on. And just like he had on our very first date, Carter leans over and kisses me senseless. Tongues tangling, juices swapping, mouths slurping and savoring, all at the same time. My fingers play in his beard. He ends the kiss and then drives the car back onto the highway.

  “We have the rest of the day for fun and games; what are you trying to do tonight?” I ask. I would love to show him my town. It’s not much nightlife going on here, but we could drive into DC and check out the scene. We can walk the trail at Black Hill Regional Park.

  “You.”

  With that one word, the last thing I want to do is walk some trail. I’m all for screwing the day and evening away. I purr appreciatively at his suggestion.

  Carter's face lights up. “Your fuck game is craaaaazy,” he playfully mocks, repeating a phrase I've said several times and in a tone I assume to be mine.

  I bust out laughing. “You're a damn fool.”

  “Oh, you frontin',” he jokes, squeezing my thigh again. “I hope you live in a single. Cause the neighbor gon’ know my name before this lil’ trip is over.”

  I think of Mr. and Mrs. Brinkman, the elderly couple, who lives in the condo next door to mine and them h
earing me scream in the throes of passion, yet I don't care. Nodding, I lick my lips seductively, accepting his offer. Bouncing in my seat, I sing, “I got that cake… cake… cake.”

  “Oooh ba-by, I like it. I'ma make you my chick, cream all over this dick,” he warns. His eyes darken and cloud with lust.

  With the challenge issued, I playfully cock my head to the side. “You know what it is.”

  “Woman, you keep it up, and I’ma have to do you right here,” he rasps, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

  Sassily, I call his bluff. “Do me, baby.”

  Make a left at stop sign and continue around Whitechurch Circle. Your destination is on your right in 1000ft. Google Maps interrupts our play.

  Pulling up to my door, Carter beams with pride as he looks over at me. “Damn, shawty,” he jokes. “This your driveway with the car in it?” he asks, motioning to my Audi.

  “Yup. This is all me,” I boast. I work hard for my success.

  He parks behind my car and we get out. Our playful banter and laughter must have brought Mrs. Brinkman to her door because she waves for me to come over. I hand the keys to Carter so he could take our stuff in while I chat with her.

  At sixty-seven years old, she's still a spring chicken, as her husband refers to her. Tall and slender, her beautiful cocoa brown skin is smooth and unblemished. Her once hazel eyes are now turning to a bluish green. Her gray hair is styled in a sleek and full-bodied bob. She’s dressed in her church nursing uniform, so she must've just come from ministering to the sick and shut-in belonging to her church.

  “We are sorry to hear about your daddy, sweetheart,” she calls out so that her voice reaches me as I cross the yard.

  “Thanks, Mrs. B. And thanks for looking after my house while I was gone.”

  She smiles as she kisses my cheek in greeting. She pulls her sweater closer together as the wind whips past her face and almost breaks her neck looking past me to get a good look at Carter. She waves at him sweetly.

  This old heffa is so damn nosey.

  “No problem, honey. Your young man stopped by every day that you were gone. Finally, yesterday, Jordy told him that your father died and that we weren't expecting you back until sometime next week. Is that your brother? Or your cousin?”

  Clearly, she knew the man with me isn’t Jermaine’s no-good ass. I shake my head “no” and add, “Let me get back to my company. I'm driving back Friday, so I'll call you later.” I drop a kiss to her cheek and was stepping off her front until she reaches out, catching my arm. “One more thing. He said he had something to give you, so Jordy used the key you gave us to let him in so he could put it inside.”

  What the fuck? Rolling my eyes and huff, “Mrs. Brinkman.” I want to tell her old ass if he ain't important enough to know my father passed away, he shouldn't be granted access to my house, but I hold my tongue. In this life, I respect my elders.

  Shaking her head, she squeezed my arm. “I know. And I'm sorry. I told Jordy that you wouldn't appreciate us doing that, but it was already too late. And Jordy said that you’re such a good girl you can use a good man surprising you when you're sad.”

  While I can't argue with her logic, their key privileges are getting revoked. Annoyed, I walk off toward my place. No telling what this nucca done left in my house.

  Fuuuuuck! I fume, realizing that Carter went in ahead of me.

  Thirty-Three

  Alieas

  When I walk in, I see Carter standing all the way back in the kitchen, near the island with his back to me.

  I'm midway through the dining room with some pep in my step when he turns at the sound of my footsteps. “So much for not having anyone to choke out.” His voice is tinged with suspicion as he extends the purple gift bag, stuffed with a bear and balloon, to me.

  The eyes that assess me are the same ones from the past— cool, distant, hard, angry.

  I halfway shrug. “Soooo, my elderly neighbors let my ex leave that here. They have a key and didn’t know that we had stopped messing with each other,” I explain, walking by him without taking the bag.

  I pull the knitted scarf from around my neck, come out of my coat, and sling it over the back of one of the dinette chairs. Quietly, I stand beside him. Don't know what else I'm supposed to say. Everything inside of me is hoping that he has absolutely no intention of drawing this out.

  I never get what I want.

  “Open it. I wanna see what boah got you.”

  It’s an order wrapped in a request. He holds the handles of the bag out to me as laughing eyes meet mine. The lump lodged in my throat makes it hard to swallow or speak while my heart beats erratically.

  Ba-Bump… Ba-bump… Ba-Bump...

  Unrelenting eyes stalk me as I take the bag out of his hands. My heart rate leaves me barely able to breathe. I put the bag on the island in front of me, and I don't dare smile at the polar bear wearing a sparkling tutu from Build-A-Bear. I purse my lips, and Carter takes it from my hand. He presses the soft red heart, and it speaks, “I love you”, in Jermaine’s lazy, southern drawl.

  Ba-Bump… Ba-bump… Ba-Bump...

  “He loves you,” he mocks dryly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I don't give a damn about him. “He's a fuckin' lie.”

  “There's more,” he continues, completely ignoring my statement. My nerves, alive with indescribable anxiety, tingle all over. Taking it upon himself, Carter reaches inside the bag and pulls out a long, navy leather jewelry box.

  Quietly, he places the slim box on the granite island top. “Open it.”

  Nervously, I decline. “No, that’s okay. I'ma send it back to him.”

  “Alieas,” he all but grunts, “open it.” He pushes the box in front of me.

  Under the heat of his stare, I flip the lid. Lying on the pillowy cushion of the box is the diamond chocker I had admired from Bailey, Banks, and Biddle one lazy Sunday as we shopped.

  Carter lets out a whistle. “Niiiice. Now, put it on,” he orders. His fingers trail over the diamonds then quickly circles my neck.

  My eyes widen, meeting his again. He’s serious and the huskiness of the demand intrigues me as my nerves dance into full-fledged fevered animalistic lust.

  “Carter,” I whisper, ready to succumb to all his demands, whatever they may be.

  “You over this nigga?”

  Bump… Bump… Bump…

  The sound of his voice rings bells in the depths of my soul, awakening her. The look in his eyes lets me know that I better fuckin be over that nigga and every other one ever to have crossed my path. Swallowing hard, I nod. His fingers tighten around my throat, exerting just enough pressure to emanate a pleasurable moan. His searching thumb leisurely strokes the long column of my neck.

  Up and down… Up and down… as my pulse beats beneath it. He gently presses and every coherent thought in my brain scatters as I cream in my panties.

  Heavy eyes, glazed with desire and still recovering, I let out a sultry laugh. Feeling decadent and delicious, I want him to taste it.

  Swiftly cupping the back of my neck, Carter brings my body into direct contact with his. Impatient hands dig into my hips as our mouths mate. His lips devour mine as his teeth nip at my bottom lip and our tongues clash. Traveling hands journey up my sides and across my collarbone to cup both sides of my neck. He takes the kiss to depths I've only explored with him.

  Yessss. Kiss me like I'm all you'll ever know… Hold on tight… Never let me go… Let’s make love all night… let’s do this right… I need you to be mine for life…

  I can't tell if I say what I’m thinking aloud or not. I stay making shit up when I'm in the moment.

  Carter grunts as his patience snaps and he rips my plaid button-up flannel shirt. Buttons pop, flying everywhere, a few onto the floor as he pulls the fabric from my shoulders and down my arms. Ravaging lips course a trail that dips in between the valley of my breasts as quick fingers unclasp my bra. Leaning back on both hands, I allow him the freedom to roam and graz
e from my ample bosom, a caramel delight with chocolate peak nipples.

  Firm hands pull my tights and panties off. Carter picks me up off my feet and places me on the island countertop.

  “Cold,” I groan. But then the heat takes over, causing me to forget where I even am.

  The urgency to have him inside of me immediately overshadows one of those lazy lovemaking sessions.

  I want to get fucked. Hair pulling and ass slapping. And from where I'm sitting, Carter is ready to oblige. The belt loses the fight with my hands as I make quick work of unbuckling it and then his pants. He tugs all that muscle from the v neck and slips his hand in his pocket to retrieve a gold wrapper. As I admire the rippling muscles, he quickly sheaths himself and forcefully pulls me to him.

  Grabbing my hair, he yanks it tightly and tips my head to the side. His mouth ravages the exposed area of my neck in huge bites. I gyrate my hips as his hands, full with my ass, bring me into direct contact with the dick I’ve been waiting to get a hold of since he pulled out of the hotel's driveway.

  One swift stroke has me breaking into pieces, only to have him gather them up and put me back together for the next tortured stroke after another. Leaning back until my shoulder touches the counter, I forget everything except the feel of him. Of how he makes me feel when he's inside of me. Moaning and moving in fluid unison, I'm taking everything he delivers, the quick and short, the deep and slow.

  I've always loved the sounds of a man who is putting in that work. I know it’s over when he lifts my right leg up over his shoulder and leans further in so he can go deeper. I try to rise up, but he forces me back down and continues to pound.

  “This my pussy,” he declares. “No distance, no amount of years apart ever gonna change that,” he professes, drilling into my channel. “Caaaaarter!”

  The sound of our bodies slapping against each other is erotic music to my ears. I become completely undone when his left hand leaves my breast to squeeze my neck. There’s a rhythm to his ministrations: long stroke, squeeze, pressure, short stroke, long stroke… again and again. My thighs tighten as his strokes create the winning combo to my pleasure. My mind grows foggy, and I get lost, bursting into flames as the familiar tingle of fire dances through me and manifest in an earth-shattering nut accompanied by the familiar giggle that none of my orgasms are complete without.