Me + Somebody's Son: A Heights Story

by Christina C Jones

  “Nah, I’ll get my own ride,” he huffed. “I need a minute.”

  Behind us, Nubia and Haven were giggling at his ass, but I guess Steph took pity on him. “We can take you,” he said, hiding his own smirk as the valet handed him the keys to the luxury vehicle they’d just pulled up.

  “Thank you. Glad I still have a few real friends,” Marcus declared as Nubia and Steph said their goodbyes to me and Haven, then got in the car. He was about to climb in, but stopped to look between us, his gaze bouncing from one of us to the other, then taking us in as a unit. “I’m still mad at your ass, but… you motherfuckers look good together. A vibe.”

  With that, he climbed into the car and they pulled off, leaving Haven and I alone on the sidewalk with everybody else who was out and about in Blackwood.

  “Did he… just give us his blessing?” Haven asked, turning to face me.

  “I think maybe so,” I agreed. “But I mean… not that it matters, right?”

  She nodded. “Right. Since I don’t date. I do accept rides home though, so I don’t have to pay for overpriced ride share…”

  I lifted an eyebrow at her. “Are you asking me for a ride, or telling me to give you one?”

  “Telling,” she answered, in a sexy, matter-of-fact tone.

  I held her gaze, keeping my expression neutral as long as I could until I could no longer help the grin on my face. I offered her my arm, and she accepted.

  “In that case…I guess I’m giving you a ride home.”

  6

  Haven

  I never should’ve played with that fire.

  Hindsight is 20/20 like a motherfucker though, because although I could quite clearly see exactly where I went wrong with this whole August thing… I couldn’t seem to turn away from it.

  I couldn’t just hurt his feelings and send him on his way, like every other man who thought he’d change my mind.

  Partially because August was so cool and self- assured that hurting his feelings wasn’t really a thing anyway. And partially because… he wasn’t trying to change my mind.

  He just… was.

  And I hated it.

  What I didn’t hate was him posted up in the bookstore café with his laptop like a college kid, while the actual college kids sweated him.

  It was some kind of twisted turn on for me, watching them – at the same age he and I were when we met – flirt with him, hoping to luck up on some kind of sugar baby arrangement or something. He always turned them down though, because he had only one reason for being at the café at all.

  Staying in my face.

  “So what are you learning about today?” I asked him, stopping on the other side of his table. I’d already sent everybody else home, and locked the front doors – all I had left to do was grab my things from the office, and I was calling it a day too.

  August looked up at me, giving me a grin. “Considerations for the change in floral odors of cut flowers as they reach the end of their life cycles,” he explained. “If the flowers on your desk that you sit at every day start to stink, you’ll throw them away before they start to decline visually. But if that element is considered when the arrangement is developed, we can increase the value.”

  “So what does that mean in action? Like… pairing a super fragrant flower with one that isn’t that great, so they balance each other?”

  He nodded. “Yes, exactly that. The aesthetics can be ten out of ten, but if it stinks, nobody wants to sit next to it every day.”

  “That’s what she said,” I countered, laughing at my own corny ass joke – and to August’s credit, he laughed too.

  Cause his ass was just as goofy as I was.

  It was pretty damned endearing, but not as much as his obvious passion for his profession. Since his “coming out” to Marcus about his intent to pursue me, he’d been in my face at the café – which was how I knew he was taking courses online about flower arranging, and had fallen into a deep well of research about it. Beyond what was necessary for the classes – which also weren’t necessary, because he already had the job.

  It was that same focused I’d admired back when we were kids.

  “Is Marcus still mad at you?” I asked, shifting the topic a bit. It had been a few weeks since that run in, but he hadn’t brought him up at all.

  Now though, he shook his head, completely waving off the idea before he closed his computer to tuck it into his laptop bag, then threw away the fwb carton from the pastry he’d eaten a while back, and offered me half of. “Nah. And even if he was… that would be his problem, not mine.”

  “You’re so cavalier about this. It would be friendship ending if you were girls,” I told him, crossing my arms.

  “Exactly. If we were girls. Children. I’m a grown, single man, interested in a grown, single woman. How we feel about it is what matters. Anything else is just noise.”

  Mm.

  There was that too, his matter-of-factness about the whole thing. He wouldn’t be swayed, wouldn’t waver, and damn if that wasn’t attractive as hell to me.

  Which made it hard for me to not be swayed.

  “It’s closing time, you know?” I asked. “Past closing time, actually.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’m hanging around to walk you home. You ready?”

  “You are?” I raised an eyebrow. “That’s news to me.”

  “Because I’m not asking,” he shrugged. “Grab your stuff.”

  “Oh? Demanding, are we?”

  He winked at me then, and lord help, I felt it right in my pussy.

  Under no circumstances should I be letting him walk me home.

  But… of course I got my shit and we headed out, because not listening to the voice between my legs had never been a strong suit of mine. Usually, I could rely on my brain and sense of self-preservation to overrule whatever shit she was talking, but lately… everybody was on August’s side.

  Damn traitors.

  They even went along with it, no objection, when he threaded his fingers through mine, clasping my hand as we made the short journey from the commercial/residential mix to purely residential, where my rented brownstone was.

  “When are you going to let me take you on another… outing to share a meal and conversation?” he asked, stopping a few steps before the entrance.

  “You mean a date?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, vehemently. “You don’t date. Why would I ask you on one?”

  I laughed, shaking my head as I met his gaze. “You are…”

  “Fuckin’ delightful, I know,” he finished for me, bringing up yet another giggle I couldn’t suppress.

  Eh.

  Screw it.

  Taking advantage of our slight difference in elevation thanks to our position on the steps, I leaned in, and… kissed him. Just a little at first, but then I really said screw it and dropped my bag beside me so I could get fully into it.

  Fully into… him.

  I took him by the ears, pulling his face to mine as I slipped my tongue between his lips. His hands went to my waist, drifting as low as he could without grabbing my ass. I moaned into his mouth, because that’s what I was feeling, with my body pressed against his, and then he gave up on respectability and took my ass by the handful, pulling me even closer.

  I could feel his dick against my stomach, so that meant I had to fuck him… right?

  Right?

  “Mmmm, you taste like a honeybun,” I murmured against his lips when I finally had to pull back to breathe.

  He grinned, taking a tiny, electrifying nibble at my bottom lip before he did the same thing to my earlobe and then said, in a low growl, “Am I about to find out what you taste like or…?”

  I felt that right between my legs too, and at this point homegirl was practically begging to come out and play. And really… I wasn’t particularly inclined to ignore her.

  For what?

  Oh nothing, just a decade-long vow to never fall in love, and not be bothered with niggas so you can live to be a
hundred and still mobile and fine cause none of these motherfuckers have been stressing you out? A promise, to yourself, to never be a fool, or compromise what YOU wanted just because somebody with a dick thought you should?

  Oh.

  Yeah.

  That.

  Girl, shut up.

  “Come inside,” I breathed, before I could change my mind, turning to snatch my bag up from the steps. I made quick work of getting out my keys and getting the door open.

  August made quick work of getting my legs open.

  Really.

  Once the door was closed and locked behind us, he wasted no time hefting me up to press against it, my legs spread wide to wrap around his waist. With each swipe of his tongue against my neck, his lips along my collarbone, his teeth grazing my skin, all my little inhibitions melted away.

  This was definitely a good idea.

  “Bedroom”, I insisted, a word that pretty immediately made me realize just how premature my good idea declaration was. I had a very firm rule against men sullying the sanctity of my personal space, but like…

  He smelled so good.

  And his dick was so big.

  And he was on his knees in front of me now, undressing me.

  Shoes off, shirt off, bra off, shorts off, panties off, legs open, with him staring between them like he’d found the keys to the universe and planned on a perspective-shifting ride.

  So… I guess it would be fine, just this one time.

  Right?

  It was a little late to back out, since his head was already between my legs, and there was this thing he was doing with his tongue, while his fingers were… shiiiit.

  Okay.

  Okay.

  I was no virgin, I’d had my pussy eaten before, it wasn’t like he was some supreme master of coochie lic—“Goddamnit August,” I gasped, grabbing his head to push him back, for even a second of reprieve, but that only made him lock his arms tighter around my thighs, bury his face even deeper.

  So instead of faking the funk or fighting the feeling or whatever the fuck, I gave in to it, collapsing back onto the bed to damn near bite a hole in my lip trying not to scream.

  It didn’t take long for me to give up on that either.

  The whole block would just have to know I was having an orgasm.

  No big deal.

  What was a big deal was his dick – I pulled myself from my post-climax vegetative state long enough to watch him undress and pull that thang out, sheathing it in a condom from his wallet.

  I wanted to comment on it, but he’d already climbed on top of me, already started kissing me. He was incredibly good at it, and I was very into it, from the skill of his tongue and those perfect lips to him smelling and tasting like pussy and pastry.

  He kissed his way down to my breasts, sucking my already-hard nipples into sensitive, pebbled peaks. His fingers went between my legs, stroking my clit and teasing my ass until he’d brought me right to the edge of another orgasm.

  I was already congratulating myself on this decision when he spread my legs a little wider so he could get between them, grabbing his dick to line himself up for entry.

  I was ready for –

  Oh.

  No.

  I was not ready for him.

  My mouth fell open as he pushed inside me, painfully but blissfully stretching me to the absolute limit. He had to know it too, because he put his lips to my ear to whisper some little soothing “you’ve got this, you can do it, good girl,” type shit I would have kicked anybody else out of bed for.

  But.

  Fuck me it was so arousing.

  Those words were like manna straight from heaven to my pussy, making me wetter and calming my tense body to accept every inch he was trying to give, and it worked. One more stroke, then another, and another, and… hallelujah.

  Perfect freaking fit.

  We easily fell into a flow with each other, shifting and adjusting to optimal pleasure. From regular missionary to my legs around his waist to my ankles on his shoulders to me folded like a damn pretzel while he drove impossibly deep and I thanked his ancestors out loud.

  A dick like that had to be inherited, right?

  So good I didn’t even kick him out afterward.

  That should have been proof enough I’d lost my damn mind, but… maybe I just needed something different than what I’d been doing for most of my adult life.

  Or hell, maybe he’d just knocked a few screws loose with his dick because not only did I not kick him out… we ordered sushi.

  Yikes, bitch.

  Big yikes.

  “You’re serious?”

  Toni’s eyes were wide as she leaned over the counter, listening to me explain what had happened with August.

  “About which part?” I asked, dropping to a seat on the stool. “The part where I let him in my house, or the part where I let him stay over?”

  “The part where you scrambled eggs for that nigga the next morning,” Toni whisper-yelled, grinning at a patron as they walked by before she turned back to me. “Have you ever done that shit before?”

  Oh.

  Yeah.

  I skipped over the whole eggs and backshots in the kitchen the next morning part, huh?

  “It’s embarrassing,” I whined, pouted, and all that. “It has never been hard for me to cut those ties immediately. I’ve stood firm in my commitment to hit and quit these dudes. And yet… Toni… I want him. Like, I… it was like a brand-new experience. Like, if that was sex, I can’t confidently say I’ve ever done it before, cause it ain’t never felt like that.”

  Toni smirked. “Aw. You got de-flowered by the flower man.”

  “Okay, listen bitch—”

  “I’m sorry,” she laughed, reaching over the counter to grab my hand, but I pulled away.

  “No, this is your fault anyway,” I accused. “You were the one talking about how much to take off your boxers at that damn painting event.”

  “My wife was the one saying what now?” Justin asked, coming out of nowhere and scaring both of us.

  Well, not out of nowhere – he’d been in the back office taking a call about something movie-related, and now he was up at the front of the store, in our business.

  I stuck my tongue out at Toni, and was about to tell Justin exactly what his wife had done when the subject of conversation came sauntering through the door.

  “August?” Justin asked, recognizing our old collegemate and immediately stepping up to shake his hand. “What’s up dude, what you doing around here?”

  August returned his greeting with the same energy, then tipped his head in my direction. “Well, I’m here to see Haven, but generally speaking, I live in the neighborhood. Work over at the florist.”

  “That’s right, you always were into the plants and shit. But uh… you and Haven?” Justin asked, and I could practically hear the, but what about Marcus, even though those words didn’t actually leave his lips.

  Shrugging, August looked at me, his lips curving in a sexy smirk that had me shifting on my seat. “Me and Haven as like, an entity, is something you’re going to have to ask her about.”

  “Not my business, understood,” Justin chuckled. “It’s good to see you though man – I think I heard something about a charity for kids? Isn’t that what that money was for, Toni?”

  I gasped. “You made him pay for that?!”

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t!” Toni argued, and I just glared at her, leaving August and Justin looking confused.

  “Uh, yeah – Thirsty Roots,” August started explaining to Justin, while I quietly fussed at Toni, even though that was actually some pretty baller shit.

  Once Justin and August had gotten caught up, the Wrights left to go have lunch, leaving me in the mostly quiet store with August. I hadn’t seen him in a couple days, having purposely altered my schedule to avoid his usual evening drop-in to study in the café.

  Which was, I guess, while he was here this early in the day.

  �
�Did I do something wrong?” he asked, after I’d switched places with an employee so I could leave the front desk.

  “Why would you think that?”

  He followed me as I kept moving, venturing further into the store just for the sake of not standing still and having to look him in the eyes.

  “Well… based on the fact that you’ve been avoiding me since we had sex, and right now you’re literally running away from me when I’m trying to talk to you?”

  I stopped, turning to face him. “I’m not running, I’m…”

  “Bustling? Rushing?” he grinned. “Either way, it’s obvious you’re trying to get some distance, which I can give you, I just… want to be clear on what’s going on. I thought we had a good time.”

  I pushed out a sigh. “We did. I did. It’s just… honestly?”

  “Please.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Are you confused, or are your current wants no longer lining up with your past wants, and it has you off-kilter?”

  “Can you not?” I asked, waving him off.

  He threw up his hands. “Can I not what?”

  “Perfectly articulate what I haven’t been able to work out for myself. Thanks,” I snapped, and turned to walk off, but he was right on my heels.

  “Haven,” he said, grabbing my wrist to stop me, pulling me around to face him.

  “What?!”

  “Could you just…” he pushed out a gruff sigh, staring at me for a bit before he apparently decided that words couldn’t effectively communicate what his mouth could.

  He kissed me.

  Right there in the back corner of the bookstore, just laid one on me. One hand tilting my chin up, the other at my waist, tongue in my mouth, just full-blown romance fashion, making me melt because I was so, so weak.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he muttered against my lips. “I’m supposed to be at work.”

  “Of course you are,” I murmured back.

  “You’re coming to my place tonight.”

  “I am?”

  “You are,” he said, firmly, looking utterly ridiculous with my deep purple lipstick smeared across his mouth.