Chapter 16
Justice
Over the next few days, I secure my previous shifts at Michie’s. Tomorrow night, Chevelle and Leith are having some sort of ritzy party. I’m astonished at how she’s welcomed me to the family. Her insistence has been undeniable. For years, I’ve skipped out on family functions, even the few Chevelle invited me to. Despite her good nature, her Scottish last name preceded her.
Now, I have not only a job offer but a managerial offer. Also, Mia calls me auntie while anticipating certain services like me sneaking her Fruit Loops.
My boss’s seductive voice brings me back to the even smoother aesthetics of his sleek bar.
“What’s with the smile?” Michie runs a hand through his glossy, raven hair. The silk strands fall past his shoulder, and a streak of gray runs parallel to his almond eyes. He’s beauty, unattainable beauty.
“Thinking about my niece.” I chuckle, and the pensive look fades from my face. Black folks have a habit of bequeathing titles, such as auntie and uncle, to the people they’re fond of. I sigh. “Little Miss Mia.”
“Hmmm.” Michie’s captivating eyes fall to a shadowed, dark area of the expansive bar. This place is perfect for trysts with its sultry alcoves. The look in his eyes grows scandalous. “Chevelle’s little one?”
“Yeah.”
“How is she?” He asks too soon, eager.
Chevelle or the tot? For a stingy boss, Michie never lets his emotions rest on his sleeve. He’s also a dangerous flirt. I tell myself not to read too much into his interest.
“Good” is all the response I’m gonna give. I’m laying my head under the same household as her husband. Michie opens his mouth, a few beats pass. He chokes on a ghost of a fly, then strolls away. I hustle around the place and meet up with Quinn, another bartender with a blonde pixie cut.
“Slowing down so soon tonight,” she sighs.
“Quinn, you still driving Lyft on the side?”
“You know it.”
We move apart when two patrons at opposite ends of the bar draw our attention. While I’m updating the guy’s tab, I watch Quinn create the iconic Michie martini. Her fluid movements give me an idea.
I glance around. Michie will bite my head off for texting on his dime, but it’s late, and I’m bored. I shoot Chevelle a quick question about recruitment. Sorry, Michie, but Black people have to stick together.
* * *
Acouple of hours later, strolling to my Honda, I notice a figure leaning against the box-shaped hood. A streetlight from behind my car outlines shoulders that extend a mile wide. I know those shoulders, those sculpted arms, and limbs like tree trunks. A part of me begs for a clear view of Brody’s face, which is still cast in an ominous silhouette. All signs point to employing good judgment and leaving him alone. But he came to me.
The electric volts that ran through my veins when Brody’s lips first touched mine reignites. “Brother Of The Night” plays on vinyl in my mind. I’m not in charge of myself. A possession has taken over me as my thick legs move. My entire body floats over to him.
I slow when I’m a few car lengths away, and my eyes can draw upon the hard angles of his face and beguiling beard.
Pull the beard while ye feck down on my dick, he’d said.
“Jesus, be a fence,” I mutter the sentiments my great grand once said while facing her own tribulations. From the first touch of our lips, I knew how different Brody would be compared to Lance. The kiss had exceeded my wildest dreams and musings.
“Hey, Spartacus.” I wave, ceasing my step. The flow of my hips is like a still, peaceful river, though the walls of my sex convulse in on the lonely void between them.
“Spartacus?” His eyebrow lifts. I want to lick his eyebrow. Yes, lick his eyebrow. Lick his cock and all the hard veiny ridges around it. Lick his balls.
Damn, I do believe it’s my turn to speak, though. “It’s an, uh, old television show. That you will no doubt fall asleep on.”
“Did I fall asleep while watching Darius and Nina?”
My mouth moves up into an infectious grin. Shit. Shit, I really want to lick his balls. “Whatever. You were nodding off between sex scenes. Unless.” My body falls under a spell, moving close enough for me to inhale his scent. I want to lick his hairy balls and drown in his scent now.
“Unless?”
“Unless Nina was on the screen. You woke up. You must like brown sugar?” I draw out each word, rich, salacious.