by Tia Sirrah
"I'm sorry. I thought we agreed that this was not a date."
"I lied."
"Excuse me?"
"This is a date, Fatima. Look around. This is the date of all fucking dates."
My eyes widened at his cockiness. Hunter made his appearance at that moment, donned in his chef's jacket. His short raven hair was messy, though his haircut was expensive and age-appropriate. Time had also served him well. And like Quentin, Hunter kept himself in pristine shape. I was sure he wouldn't be single for long, and that pleased me. He deserved to be happy.
Hunter filled our water glasses and went over his wine recommendations and the menu. Forgetting my earlier declaration, I ordered the spiciest thing on the menu, which garnered an arched eyebrow from both men, before I realized my blunder. "On second thought, I'll have the stuffed seafood eggplant." I reached for my glass of water and took a few large gulps while averting my eyes from both of them.
Quentin ordered the pasta and a bottle of wine before Hunter headed back to the kitchen.
"I see you still have the palate of a twelve-year-old," I deadpanned.
Quentin chuckled while shaking his head. "And I bet you have hot sauce in your purse. Oh, wait, I forgot. You don't like spicy food anymore."
Despite his last comment—which caused a bit of wariness—a grin spread across my face. He knew me so well.
"I've missed your smile," he said, looking at me adoringly. "You smile with your whole face. I love it."
I cleared my throat and averted my gaze around the empty room. I was falling hard, and I'd only been in his presence for mere minutes. I needed to change the subject and get this friend-date back on track. "Why did you end your campaign? I must say it surprised me."
"Politics aren't for me. It was my family's dream. Not mine. I guess I grew tired of allowing others to plan my life."
"I'm happy for you." And I was. But it was bittersweet.
"Thank you."
"Yep."
There were so many things left unsaid between us. Things were different now. We were no longer those optimistic eighteen years olds that once believed that love could conquer all. The man sitting in front of me was practically a stranger. And it was too late to make amends for something that was once everything but was now damaged beyond repair.
Hunter reappeared with our wine and filled our glasses without making eye contact with either of us. "Can I get you two anything else?"
"I think we're good, bro."
Hunter quickly glanced my way, and I smiled at him. "I'm good. Thanks, Hunter."
He smiled softly at me, before looking at Quentin, who's expression was unreadable as he watched our interaction. "Well, uh, I'll be in the kitchen. Victoria, one of my servers, will be out shortly with your entrees."
"Thanks, man," Quentin said.
"Sure thing." He gave a curt nod, and I watched him leave the room.
I took a healthy sip of my wine as Quentin's eyes focused keenly on me. It was as if he were cataloging the features of my face. And my face heated once again, under his stare.
"My little sister, Lizzie, told me you went on tour with Shayla. She's a big fan of hers."
"I did. It was an eight-month tour, and I loved every minute of it."
"Jessica told me she ran into you in London," he said, watching me keenly. "Were you there for the tour?"
"I was. And she did, did she?" I took a healthy gulp of my wine.
"She did."
"We ran into each other at an industry party on New Year's Eve." I left out the other details. I'm sure Jessica already filled him in.
Roaring screams, whistles, and horns resounded throughout the crowd of thousands. Leo and Ethan, two hot guys from Oxford, that I'd met a few hours prior, surrounded me. Both guys had dirty blond hair. Leo had Quentin's eyes. Ethan had Quentin's lips. Leo stood behind me, with his hard cock pressed against my ass. Ethan stood in front of me, with his solid chest pressed against my breasts. My body buzzed with excitement and arousal from being sandwiched between their hard bodies.
"Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!" Thousands in the crowd sang 'Auld Lang Syne' at the top of their lungs, as Ethan leaned down and kissed me hard. His tongue licked the inside of my mouth with a thirst that made my knees buckle. Leo's lips found the nape of my neck as I moaned into Ethan's kiss. I was high on life, drunk off whiskey, and soaking wet with arousal. Ethan's erection hardened like stone when I sucked on his tongue, and he growled in my mouth.
I pressed my ass against Leo's erection and felt him tug my locs, causing me to break my kiss from Ethan. Leo turned my head, angled his mouth over mine, and kissed my dizzy from behind. One tongue in my mouth quickly turned into two, and all three of our tongues tangled as I experienced one of the most erotic experiences of my life.
A startling flash of a camera resulted in me prying my lips free. Turning my head towards the brightness, I looked directly into the eyes of Jessica, of all people. Her eyes were wide with mischief, and her jaw was agape. In her hand, she held out a phone, which captured everything.
A small part of me wanted to explain myself to Quentin. But then I thought to myself, I'm a grown-ass woman, and I don't need his acceptance or approval. So instead, I said, "Dinner smells amazing."
"It does."
The brief silence between us that followed felt stifling. Quentin cleared his throat and shoved a hand through his hair, seemingly nervous about something. "I have something for you."
"Oh?"
Quentin retrieved something out of his inside suit jacket pocket. I reluctantly held out my hand and allowed him to place a necklace in my palm.
"Quentin, I can't accept—. Where did you find this?" Strung through a silver chain was an antique silver ring with a small jade stone setting.
"In my dad's study. Last week, I caught a glimpse of it when he opened his drawer to retrieve a pen. I remembered you mentioning the ring a few years ago. I may have picked the lock and took it in his absence," Quentin said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It belongs with you. My family has taken enough from you."
"I don't remember telling you about this." I blinked back tears and unclasped the silver chain bracket.
Quentin rose from his chair. "Let me."
"Okay," I said, almost breathless.
Quentin took the chain from my hand and stood behind me. His fingertips grazed along the nape of my neck, sending delicious tremors down my spine. "Sophomore year," he said as he fastened the chain. "It was your mother's birthday. I found you after school in the football field sitting at the top of the bleachers."
"We used to meet there and swap algebra notes." I smiled fondly.
"Right."
The heat of his fingers felt divine on my flesh. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch. "That day," he continued, "You had been crying. Your eyes were all puffy in Spanish class. So after school, hoping to cheer you up, I went to the vending machine to buy you—"
"An orange Fanta. My favorite soda."
"That was the plan. But Kasey O'Reilly bought the last one, so I convinced her to sell me her soda."
"Kasey O'Reilly. Now that's a name I haven't heard in years. Senior class prom queen."
"The one and only. It cost me twenty dollars plus a picture of my abs before she handed it over."
"You're joking," I laughed.
"I kid you not. I had to lift my shirt and allow her to take a picture of me. I felt so objectified," he teased.
"That cradle-robbing bitch. I never liked her."
Quentin secured the necklace, and his hand left my shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its place. He sat back down in his chair, and I immediately missed his closeness. "You told me about your mother's necklace. She promised to give it to you on your twenty-first birthday."
"It belonged to my great grandmother. I never knew what happened to it. I assumed it was stolen in the robbery." I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. "Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."
"No thanks necessary."
> "You're wrong. It's very necessary. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about her. She's been gone a long time, and it gets harder to remember all the details, so I try to hold on to whatever I can. Like the smell of her hair. It always smelled like coconut. Or how she used to snort, like me, when she laughed at something really funny. And the way she used to jump around and dance when a New Edition song came on the radio." I took a deep breath and smiled at the fond memories of my mother. "Sometimes, I feel like I've lost so many pieces of her. But this," I pressed my palm against the ring, holding it close to my heart. "This makes me feel closer to her than I have in years. So, yes, a thank you is necessary." I reached out and clasped his hand.
There was a slight winch in his expression that caused me to furrow my brow. "Fatima, there's something—"
Quentin was interrupted by Victoria, our server, carrying our steaming entrees. Victoria was a mature woman with a blunt silver haircut and a sharp nose. She had round cheeks and smile lines around her warm and friendly eyes.
I removed my hand from Quentin's and rubbed my hands together. "This looks too pretty to eat," I beamed, as Victoria sat my food down in front of me. I shamelessly fanned the aroma towards me and took a whiff of the seafood stuffed eggplant.
"Thank you, Victoria," Quentin smiled. "This looks delicious. Please give my compliments to the Hunter."
"Yes, sir, Mr. James. You two enjoy your meal."
I wasted no time in taking a bite of my entrée. I closed my eyes as the flavor and spices tickled my tongue. Hunter had even prepared it with a little kick of spiciness. "This is bomb. How's your pasta?"
"It's good."
We both enjoyed our meals while catching up on gossip about our high school friends. Jessica married a Cardiologist, twelve years her senior. They had three children together and lived in the affluent River Oaks community in Houston. Marley moved back home with her folks after grad school and was engaged to an Engineer. Jemma, Hunter's ex-wife, moved to Georgia after their divorce and had joint custody of their Dobermann Pinscher. And Conner, a hotel mogul like his father, was head over heels in love with Novalee, and the two were expecting twins.
∞∞∞
"THIS WAS FUN," I said, as Quentin walked me to my car.
"You sound surprised," he teased.
"Well, I am, actually." I stood against my car door and looked up at him. "It's been a long time since we hung out. I honestly didn't know how it was going to be."
"We were always great together."
"We were." It felt good, being this close to him. But it also felt dangerous and unsettling.
"I want you back."
I blinked up at him. "No," I said in a low but firm tone.
His lips twitched in a cocky smirk. "No?"
"No. You and I back together again is not that simple."
"You're right. It's complicated as fuck. But anything worth having is a little complicated, don't you think?"
I chuckled incredulously. "I don't want complicated. I'm too old for complicated."
"But I'm in love with you."
"Love isn't enough. We had that in spades, yet you still walked out on me."
"I was a fucking idiot."
"You were an ass-hat who fucked my brains out before dumping me."
"I could have handled that differently." He winced.
"Gee, ya think!" My voice rose a few decibels, to my surprise. I paused and took a deep breath. "Look, I get it. That was your version of goodbye sex. Was I pissed? Hell yes. Did I feel some type of way when I heard about you and Amy? Of course. It's fucking Amy!" I yelled. "You said she was always the one. And she said you were her best friend! Are you fucking kidding me?"
"You think I'm proud of the man I've become?" His voice boomed. "I hate myself for ending us, but I thought you were better off without me."
"Why would you think that? I stood up to my father for us. I was all in, and you knew it!" I slammed my finger into his hard chest. "You left because you were a coward and a sell-out. Plain and fucking simple!" I was fuming and needed some space. I shoved him, yet he remained unmoveable. "Let me go, Quentin. Go live your life and let me go."
He muttered curse words under his breath before boxing me in between him and my car. "I'm never going to let you go. Don't ask me to do that."
I wanted to ball my hands into fists and pound them against Quentin's chest. He needed to get it through his thick skull that our time had passed. I also wanted to melt into him and shove my tongue down his throat. I wanted to lose myself in his eyes. I wanted him to hold me and never let me go. "There can't be an 'us,' Quentin. There's something you don't know. It's unforgivable."
He lowered his head to meet me eye to eye. "There can only be an 'us.' Fuck everyone else."
"I have a secret."
"So do I. And trust me, my secret kicks your secret's ass." There was pure agony in his eyes. Whatever his secret was, it was big. Life-changing big.
"I'm not ready to tell you mine," I said, as my traitor eyes focused on his lips. "But when I do, it may change everything."
"It’ll change nothing," he quickly countered.
"And your secret? What will it do to us?"
He looked grim before he rested his forehead against mine. "It has the capacity to reck us if we let it."
My heart sank. Did I really want this? Did I really want him? Once upon a time, I believed that pain was worth it, to get to the good part. I no longer believed that.
Quentin's lips brushed against mine. "I will never stop fighting for this. Not this time." He cradled my jaw in his hands.
Our noses rubbed together. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his breath against mine. I thought of our blood oath—the one we took all those years ago. We were so young. We made promises that we couldn't keep.
"Still love me, Princess?"
The sound of my heartbeat drummed loudly in my ears. I opened my eyes and leaned my head back, looking up at the man standing in front of me. The man who had once been a boy that stole my heart with a kiss. "I still love you." It felt good to admit it. It felt liberating. It felt right. It also felt like I was losing control.
Quentin sighed in relief, sliding his eyes shut.
"This is so fucking happening, Princess."
"I know." I resigned. "Fuck my life," I said before his lips crashed into mine in a kiss that curled my toes.
Chapter 27
FATIMA
THE NEXT MONTH OF MY life was more gratifying than the last nine and a half years. Quentin and I fell into an easy groove as we slowly blended our lives. Some things were still the same, like our quirks and characteristics, and yet, with time and adulthood, came growth and maturity, new responsibilities, new baggage, new preferences, and new expectations. It was exciting, having full access to the man I loved, and it was a refreshing feeling to allow myself to bask in this new—yet familiar—relationship. But as amazing as it was, it was also terrifying. We both had secrets lingering in the shadows that threatened everything we waited so long to get back. Because of my guilt, and because of our secrets, we both agreed to hold off on having sex. This was easier said than done because our passion and attraction had always been off the charts. But until we both faced our truths, we knew, without even discussing it, that our relationship shouldn't progress on a more intimate level.
When Quentin decided to move back to the city from his beach house, he sought my opinion on a downtown penthouse apartment that he was interested in. After giving me a tour of the five thousand square foot, two-story, five-bedroom penthouse, with vaulted ceilings and sweeping views of downtown from every window, I quickly gave my thumbs up. Due to Quentin's cash offer, he closed quickly on the property and moved in shortly after.
Two weeks later, we sat crosslegged on the kitchen island in his new, unfurnished home, eating pizza, and drinking beer. Up to this point, Quentin and I had only gone out on public dates to avoid the temptation of devouring each other. My sex drive had always been off the charts, an
d Quentin effortlessly oozed sex. I knew in agreeing to spend time alone with him in his new place, our no sex rule was on shaky ground. So, in an effort to keep my damn legs closed, and to keep Quentin from trying to jump my bones, I wore the only pair of cotton granny panties I owned, scrubbed my face bare of makeup, and wore my reading glasses. Based on the heated look Quentin gave me when he first opened the door, my attempts to tone it down were futile. Not to mention, Quentin wasn't playing fair. He looked too good, dressed in a white t-shirt that did nothing to hide his sculpted body underneath, and his tailored jeans made me want to sink my teeth is his ass. I was in trouble—big trouble.
As I expected, one thing led to another. We went from eating pizza and drinking beer, to slow-dancing playfully to Al Green's Let Stay Together. Two songs later, my granny panties—which Quentin got a good laugh at—and other articles of clothing were tossed aside. With his face buried between my legs, he licked and sucked on my bare pussy like a starving man, and I writhed beneath him on the hardwood floor. My moans and cries echoed throughout the empty penthouse, and my eyes burned with tears as my body experienced mind-blowing pleasure under his hot mouth.
After my first orgasm, Quentin wordlessly flipped me over and bent my knees so that I was on all fours. I arched my back, greedily anticipating more. I yelped in pleasure and shock when I felt the palm of his hand deal a stinging slap against my pussy before diving his long tongue inside of me. "Oh, my God! Yes! Like that, Q!"
I bucked my ass against his face, as he gripped my hips and tongue fucked me from behind. My second orgasm left me seeing stars, and my limbs trembled. Quentin's mouth left me wholly sedated, but I wasn't satisfied. I knew I wouldn't be until I had him in my mouth. Acting out on my desires, I pushed him back onto the floor and angled my pussy over his face, and I angled my face over his cock. I worked earnestly on unfastening his jeans while he spread my ass cheeks apart and latched on to my clit. I cried out his name as I pulled out his cock, and he grunted beneath me as I sucked him off. It was like a blast from our past, as we devoured each other in the sixty-nine position until we licked and sucked each other dry.