Stay with Me (Strickland Sisters Book 1) Page 9

  “It’s not.”

  “And how old is Lamar? I mean, you’re beautiful, Mama, but you need to be careful.”

  “He’s twenty-seven, younger than you and your sisters, and I’m not tryna marry the man. I just needed…something, Angela. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’ve sat up in this house for years, alone and lonely. I had dreams and goals, but I gave them all up for your father. Please don’t ever, ever do that to yourself. Don’t sacrifice your life for a man.”

  “I don’t plan on it. Not anymore.”

  She nodded. “Good. Ryan seems nice. He’s definitely handsome. Gorgeous.”

  “Yeah…I like him.”

  “And that accent? Mmm…”

  “Mama, I’m worried about you.”

  She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “Don’t be. I’m fine. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

  “But doesn’t Daddy still have a key? Should you be doing…you know, up in here?”

  “Your father knows not to pop up here or come back at all. I’ve made it clear I will ruin his life if he does.”

  “What do you have on him?”

  “Hmm, let’s just say he got the money to start his business through less than legal channels. The other stuff? I just can’t tell you. I wouldn’t want to ruin your image of him.”

  “He already ruined it by mistreating you.”

  “I know, but…”

  “You still love him. You’re still protecting him.”

  “Yes, I do still love him.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t see how you can.”

  “Hmm, well…The thing is, love can’t be turned off like a water faucet. If it’s there and it’s really real, it doesn’t disappear and it doesn’t go away. Real love is forever.”

  I let her words soak in. “Are you going to take him back?”

  “I don’t know, Angie. I just don’t know.”

  Once we were in Ryan’s vehicle on the way home, he asked, “You all right over there?”

  With my gaze still fixed on the scenery outside the passenger window, I said, “I don’t know. Everything…it’s all just fucked up.” I sighed. “Sorry to have pulled you into my family mess.”

  “It’s okay. And if it makes you feel any better, Lamar is a cool dude and he really seems to care about your mom.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with her, though. Screwing another man in my father’s house? And I swear she was flirting with you.”

  “I kind of noticed that, but come on, Angela. Look at me. Who wouldn’t flirt with me?”

  I tried not to look at him, but when I finally broke weak and glanced in his direction, he was wearing this silly grin, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Everything’s gonna be okay,” he said.

  “I hope so.”

  He reached over and rested a hand on my cheek, his eyes still on the road as he said, “I know so.”

  17

  I’d spoken to Nicky once since the great anniversary cluster fuck, and true to form, she dodged the subject of our parents separating altogether, sidestepping it when I brought it up. She went on and on about the week Damon spent in town and how glad she was to spend time with him, pretending she still saw him as her best friend only. When I asked about Warren, she actually sounded confused, like she didn’t even know who I was talking about. Poor Warren.

  Poor funky Warren.

  She got off the phone without really letting me talk, so I didn’t have to give a dating update. Good, because the only man I’d seen for a solid month was Ryan, and I didn’t feel like being berated for my relationship tendencies. Hell, I wasn’t her. If I liked a man and enjoyed being with him, I only wanted to be with him. That was just how I was wired. I wasn’t made to date multiple men. I’d even been dodging Harrison’s phone calls, because as nice and kind as he was, he was no Ryan Boyé.

  I moved closer to my bathroom mirror as I slid the make-up brush across my cheek. I was preparing to film a sponsored wig review video. I wasn’t a big wig wearer, but the company gave me a choice of three human hair wigs for free to review on my channel, and wig reviews always garnered a lot of views, and views of monetized videos equaled money for me. So I had no problem cornrowing my hair and trying on Karen, Courtney, and Shia. And it really wasn’t a conflict of interest. Wigs were good protective style choices for those of us with natural hair.

  I dug through my make-up bag for my brick red lipstick and thought about all the fun I’d been having with Ryan—movies, dinners, multiple events at Coda, just chilling at either of our places. Whatever we were building felt nice, and he’d been a perfect gentleman. No more making me squirm in public, but that actually kind of disappointed me. I missed feeling what he made me feel, what only he had ever made me feel, but liked the idea that he wanted to slow things down and savor just getting to know me. Still, I missed him touching me in that way, but was too ashamed to bring it up.

  I glanced at my phone lying on the bathroom counter and smiled as Renee’s number glowed on the screen. I put it on speakerphone as I answered it. “Hey, Nay.”

  “Hey, Ang. What’ve you been up to?”

  I hadn’t talked to her at all since the dinner party fiasco. We were all three going to have to do better about keeping in touch. A month is too long not to talk to your sister, but I supposed we’d all been busy with our lives.

  “Nothing much,” I said. “Working.”

  “I’m so behind with watching your videos. Work is killing me, home is…never mind.”

  I stared at myself in the mirror. Satisfied that I was camera ready, I picked up my phone and crossed the hall to my studio. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I can’t deal with you saying something crazy about my marriage today. Not today.”

  I sat down at my desk and wondered if I should have worn something more colorful instead of the black, “My Hair Defies Gravity” t-shirt, then remembered I was getting paid to wear it on camera. “Nay, you can tell me. I promise I won’t say anything. I’ll just listen.”

  She sighed into the phone. It was around 3:00 PM, so I knew she was still at work, probably locked up in her office. “I think Robert is cheating again.”

  I held the phone in silence. I mean, I had promised not to say anything, and besides that, it wasn’t exactly a shock to hear it. Anyone with one-tenth of a brain knew it was bound to happen again. I was sure Renee knew, whether she was willing to admit it to herself or not.

  “Angie?”

  I took my cue, and asked, “Why do you think that?”

  “Because I see all the same signs from before, but it’s actually worse this time. Not only is he staying out late, but he’s got such an attitude with me when he’s at home. And I haven’t even confronted him about what he’s doing. I’ve just been taking it.”

  Like Mama, I thought. But at least Mama finally got tired of Daddy’s crap and put him out. I hoped it didn’t take Renee forty years to reach that point.

  “Angie, I just want my marriage to work,” she continued. “I don’t want a divorce.”

  “I know you don’t,” was all I could think to say. I left off, “But you should want one because your husband isn’t worth the spit it takes to curse his unattractive, sorry ass.”

  “Well, I’ve bothered you enough. Let me get back to work. Talk to you later. Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime, Nay. And I mean that. Call me whenever you want. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  As soon as I hung up, a text message from Ryan popped up on the screen of my phone.

  Ryan: Dinner tonight? My place?

  Me: Sure.

  Ryan: Cool. Can’t wait.

  Me: Me, either.

  *****

  “Luther Vandross or Barry White?” Ryan asked, as he bit into a slice of pizza. I was finally getting to cash that rain check.

  “You always do this, Ryan. You know they’re too different. I can’t choose,” I replied, crossing my legs I
ndian-style on my spot on the floor.

  “First name that pops in your head. Luther or Barry?”

  “Luther, but that’s because it’s the first name you said. There’s really no comparison. Who’s your choice?”

  “Barry, of course. You know how many babies that man’s voice is responsible for creating?”

  “And Luther’s voice hasn’t dropped any panties?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just think Barry’s the better choice.”

  I grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and wiped my hands. “My turn. Sade or Anita Baker?”

  “Hell, naw! You did not just do that!”

  I gave him a smirk. “See, that’s the same as Luther and Barry.”

  “No, Barry is the clear winner in that one, and it was an even field—two R&B crooners. Anita is all soul, Sade’s got this little jazz thing going on. Too different.”

  I leaned back on my hands. “Or…you just can’t choose. Well, I can. And it’s Anita Baker.”

  “Whatever. There’s really no comparison.”

  “You mocking me?”

  “Naaaw, never that, Angela.”

  “Mm-hmm. Your turn again, and please choose a sensible match-up.”

  He grinned at me as he took a swig of his soda. “I got your sensible. How about this? Earth, Wind & Fire or The Isley Brothers?”

  “You cannot be serious! Really, Ryan? Those two groups are nothing alike!”

  “Damn, you just don’t know music, do you? Well, allow me to school your young ass.”

  “We’re the same age.”

  “So. Anyway, Isley Brothers win this hands down—longevity, catalog, signature sound.”

  “And Earth, Wind & Fire doesn’t possess those things?”

  “Not like the Isleys. So you know my choice. What’s yours, and you gotta choose this time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. The elements.”

  He shook his head and stared at me for a second. Then he grabbed his cell phone from the floor and held up a finger. “Hold up.”

  A few seconds later, Groove with You began streaming from the phone’s tiny speakers, and it sounded good, too, since Ryan owned the latest version of an obscenely expensive smartphone.

  “See, Earth, Wind & Fire makes you want to pick up the phone and tell your woman you love her. But the Isleys? They make you wanna drive to her house in the pouring rain, beat on her door, climb in her bed, and fuck her soul out.”

  I squinted my eyes at him. “Really? That song does all that to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So right now you wanna drive somewhere and fuck somebody’s soul out?”

  He smiled at me as he crawled from his spot on the other side of the coffee table, leaned in, and kissed me. “Nah, I actually want to fuck your soul out right here on this floor. Right now.”

  “Why don’t you, then?”

  He backed away from me, a look of surprise on his face as he said, “I haven’t been given permission.”

  “Since when have you needed permission?” I scooted closer to him and pressed a soft kiss to his Adam’s apple. “I mean, did you ask for permission that time in your kitchen when you made me damn near fall off that table?”

  He stared into my eyes. “No.”

  This time I kissed his lips. “And did you ask for my permission that night at Coda’s when you made me lose it in front of that waiter?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “I do appreciate you requesting my permission, though. So let me give it to you right now.”

  “For real?”

  “Yes, so I’ll ask again, why don’t you fuck my soul out of me on this floor, then? Or were you just talking shit?”

  He released a low growl as he leaned in and captured my mouth, quickly slipping his tongue inside, embarking on a search for mine. Finding it, he caressed it one moment, battled it the next, all while easing me onto my back on the floor. I lay beneath him, opening my jean-clad legs, allowing him to settle between them. His erection rested on my core, sending tremors through me at the mere thought of feeling it inside of me. As he continued to seize my mouth, I wrapped my arms around him and moaned. We could’ve stayed right there, mouths fused, fully-clothed for the rest of the evening, and I wouldn’t have complained, but as good as this felt, I knew what was to come would be so much better.

  He snaked his hand under my t-shirt and found my right breast, raking his finger over the taut nipple before palming the breast. I was glad I’d decided not to wear a bra.

  He alternated playing with each breast for a few moments as he continued kissing me, and then moved his hand down my stomach to the top of my jeans. Fumbled with the closure before removing his mouth from mine, and mumbling, “Shit.”

  He got my jeans open a second later, and I lifted my butt so he could shimmy them off me. He didn’t bother to remove my panties, just moved them to the side and plunged a finger inside of me. I gasped, leaving my mouth in an “o” as he thrust another finger inside of me. He was staring so intently at me that it became too much coupled with him stroking me, so I closed my eyes, heard him shift on the carpet, and then felt the warmth of his tongue as he flicked it against my clit, his fingers still inside of me.

  “Ooooooh!” I screamed.

  He flicked his tongue up and down several times, causing my legs to quiver and my mind to race.

  “Oh, oh, oh!!!!!” I shouted, as I involuntarily reached down and clutched his head, letting my fingers sink into his thick, curly hair.

  If I’d thought his fingers felt good, his mouth felt unquestionably sublime. I felt as if I was losing control of…everything—my thoughts, my desires, my body as it jerked and pressure swarmed the lower part of my torso. My senses were heightened and dulled at the same time. I desperately wanted him to stop, because this kind of pleasure was tortuous. But I knew if he did stop, I would completely come undone.

  As he rolled his tongue over my clit while humming along with another Isley song that had begun to autoplay, the pressure building inside of me hit its peak, coiled up in a tight ball, and burst with such force that I yelled, “Shiiiiiiiiiiit!!!!” at the top of my lungs, my legs trembling. I have no idea when he undressed. All I know is as I lay there limp, trying to catch my breath and regulate my heartbeat, he entered me—sliding inside me slowly, causing my already spasming core to spasm even more. His mouth covered mine, devouring my yelp of surprise as he sank deep into me and eased out.

  He ended the kiss, locked his hypnotic eyes on me, and murmured, “Shit…”

  His eyes fluttered closed as he entered me again, eased opened as he glided out. Again, he said, “Shit.”

  The third time he said it, he shouted the word, giving me a look that was somewhere in between disbelief and ecstasy. I grabbed him, kissed him, tried to figure out how it was possible for him to feel so good inside of me. As he continued to slide in and out of my deluged core, I decided it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. I was dreaming.

  Then he leaned in and nipped my neck with his teeth, causing only a modicum of pain, but I knew the pain was real, and if the pain was real, so was the pleasure.

  “Ryan…” I whimpered.

  He raised my shirt, lowered his head, and flicked his tongue across my left nipple before covering it with his warm mouth, sucking it like it provided his only source of sustenance. It was all too much for me…again. The pressure was back in force, building, swarming, and eventually, releasing all over again, leaving me wetter, slicker. Ryan didn’t seem to mind as he slid out of me, inserted a finger, and slipped it in his mouth. “Mmm,” he moaned.

  “Ryan…” I reached up to kiss him, but he shook his head and plunged his finger back inside of me, this time easing it into my mouth for me to taste myself. I lapped my tongue out, hungrily tasting my own juices as he plunged back inside me.

  I closed my eyes, turning my head from side to side.

  “How many orgasms is that? Two? I think you’ve got another one in you,” he said, as he pic
ked up the pace of his lovemaking.

  I shook my head. “No…I can’t.”

  He reached between us, sliding a finger across my clit. “Yeah, you can.”

  I looked up at him, saw no smile on his face, and knew he was serious. “Ryan,” I said, “I don’t think I can take anymore.”

  He squeezed my clit, thrust deeper inside of me. “Yes, you can, baby.”

  I clamped my mouth shut, because I knew I would explode again. He was making sure of it. And hell, it wasn’t like I really didn’t want it to happen.

  When I climaxed for the third time, I feared my heart would stop or my lungs would collapse as I screamed his name loud enough that I was sure the police would be there soon to investigate the disturbance. And seconds later, Ryan roared, his body stiffening before he collapsed on top of me.

  My eyes popped open, and I took in my surroundings. We were still on his floor, him spooned behind me sound asleep. My eyes fell on an empty condom wrapper lying a few inches away from me, then shifted to our discarded clothes. The room smelled of pizza, Ryan’s cologne, a hint of my perfume, and sex. Initially, I wasn’t sure what had awakened me. Then I became aware of his erection pressing against my ass, and I began to liquify again.

  Damn. He had one hell of an effect on me.

  “You up?” he asked, startling me.

  “Yeah,” I said softly.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “I’m good, great. Be even better if I could do something about this.” He pressed himself against me.

  My soulless ass said, “Then do something about it.”

  He brushed his lips across my shoulder. “I think I will.”

  “Ryan, I’m supposed to be avoiding relationships, because I don’t do so well with them,” I said, as he lifted my leg. “But I’ve been seeing you and no one else for like a month, and now…this.”

  As he glided inside of me, he released a moan, and said, “Don’t worry about it. This isn’t a relationship. Hell, I don’t even believe in relationships, baby.”