Motown Throwdown (21 page)

“Rome,” she whispers. “If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize.”

Looking up at her I don’t even bother removing my hands to wipe my face. I wasn’t ashamed to cry in front of her, I was ashamed of the way I had treated her and had wanted her to love me since I was a kid.  Kandace caring about me was a dream, a dream I never wanted to wake from.

“I’ve loved---“ I start but then the tears clog my throat. “I’ve loved you since I saw your picture in the tutoring section on the forum. That’s why I picked you. Because, I already knew.”

That’s when her tears started to run down her perfectly pale face. Resting my head back on her chest, I let her cry it out and wonder how in the hell I got so lucky. It took her a few but she finished with a deep inhale and I felt her body relax. “Take me upstairs,” she whispers.

Once I was on my own two feet, I did what I always dreamt of doing again.

Carrying her.

Laying her down, I peel the blouse and bra off and just stare. Need was pounding through me but you don’t just nail the woman that loves you, you go slow, make it good for her. Maybe figure out where that God damn sneaky g-spot was. Sliding her pants down, I toss them over my shoulder and work on my own. Sitting up to remove my shirt, she touches my chest softly but it felt a-fucking-mazing.

“Did this hurt?” she asks tracing the ink.

“Yeah,” I moan. “But I wanted to feel something, pain worked.”

“Whoever did it was good,” she says kissing my stomach. “Real good.”

“Lay down,” I tell her. “Open your arms to me.”

Doing as she was told, she opened her arms wide and I came home. With one hand between her legs and my mouth on her right nipple, I knew if heaven existed it was wherever she was. Her smiles were real, her hands were real and those moans… fuck yeah, those were real. Backing up, she cries out for me but I
shh
her by spreading her and kissing her between her legs. Her back arched up like she was electrocuted, her legs tightened and her scream was loud.

Not bothering with finesse, I went in fast and deep. Using my fingers to keep her open, my tongue waged a full scaled assault on her pussy. When her legs went over my shoulders my dick took on a pulse and I knew I was running out of time.

“Come,” I order her. “On my tongue, fucking do it.”

“Finger me,” she begs. “I’ll only come if you add your fingers.”

Done
, I think to myself and head back in. Everything about her got brighter. I didn’t mind the instruction because the truth was, I needed it. Since the day I started fucking it wasn’t about them it was about me. Bend them over, let them ride but nothing ever like this. This is was what it was all about and Kandace knew what she wanted.

As for me, I wanted to find that fucking g-spot.

Sinking a second finger in and hooking it she lets out a wail, grabs my forearms and screams, “Found it!” before she growls. ”Do not fucking stop!”

Until a few months ago I had to do as I was told. I had to ask to take a piss, for a book, a phone call and a blanket. But this kind of order I didn’t mind taking. When she came she screamed for me first, Jesus second and before she finished riding it out, I moved her legs back, spread them apart and slid home.

Pounding into her I couldn’t believe how easily I could work her. I guess all those years they were really faking it because now I knew this was what it was supposed to feel like. I knew I wasn’t going to last, it was too strong and I was going to burst. “Fuck,” I groan into her throat. Licking the salt from her skin the urge to bite down was overwhelming. But I had to do it. She was mine, she loved me.

I wanted any mother fuckers thinking otherwise to know she was taken.

When I did it, she cupped my head and moaned deep. Arching her back while I fuck her, she wraps her legs around me and it was game over. “Harder,” she begs me. “Pound me harder, Rome, please.”

With seconds to spare I was nailing her so hard the frame made one loud crack before it broke and neither one of us stopped once it did. “I’m coming again,” she says digging her nails in my ass. “Oh God, I’m gonna blow,” I yell out and then it happened.

We came together.

With her wrapped around me, hands in my hair, I rest my head on her chest again and tell her, “I love you, Teach,” before passing out.
 

I wanted to scream at him and ask why them and not me? Why am I not good enough for you? Why is it so easy to be cruel to me? But I never will. Pride keeps me from setting myself up for failure and humiliation. But I swear to God the way he looks at me sometimes… He never looks at them like that. Right now my date isn’t looking at me like that either. He’s too busy eye-fucking the cheerleader Roman plans to be fucking and it was all too much for me.

Not even bothering with a goodbye or a fuck you, I grab my coat to leave. I didn’t want to come here, I hated clubs but it was a first date and I didn’t want to come off as uppity.

“Hold up, Teach,” he says taking my elbow and he doesn’t smell like him, he smells like desperate female.

“What?” I snap.

“Easy,” he says holding his hands up. “The fuck are you doing here with that asshole anyway?”

“I honestly have no idea,” I tell him.

“You don’t belong here,” he says quietly. How depressing was it that he knew me so fucking well?

“And you do?” I counter.

“This is what I know,” he says looking slightly embarrassed.

“God, my heart breaks for you, Roman. For once stop following the crowd, turn the volume on your dick down and think!”

Because as I was figuring out, they were all driven by getting pussy. Offer it up and there’s a line around the block. That’s why once I’m done with this shit and had my degree, I knew I could look forward to treating all these idiots for the STDs they’re passing around.

Meh, something to look forward to.

He has many names for me.

Teach when we were kids, Doc as adults and my favorite: Kandace. When he says my name I get chills, no lie. In his deep voice he draws my name out like he isn’t used to saying it. In the quiet of my house, I can hear and feel when his breathing evens out.

Letting him sleep on me, I take the time to memorize him.

If you went by looks alone, Rome was a living God. Stunningly handsome and built like a tank. But that stuff fades, it was his core that I cared about. If I were lucky enough to keep him forever, in time, looks would change with age, but it’s the essence of him that would not. I saw it then and I see it now.

When he jerks in his sleep and tightens his grip, I can feel him tense. He was having a nightmare. Breathing heavy then pushing off of me, he sits up trying to shake the fog.

“Hey,” I whisper. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

“I love you,” he says quietly.

“I know you do,” I tell him pulling him back down. “Sleep, I’ll be here when you get up.”

He slept hard.

I relished having him next to me, breathing into my neck and holding on to me like I was his best secret. I understood it now and I was okay with it. When daylight hit, he was the first to wake. When I rolled over, it was to a single flower and a note.

Went to get you coffee, love you.

Stopping myself from crying I force myself up to take a shower. I had just finished rinsing the conditioner when I felt the breeze from the curtain opening.

“Good morning,” he says stepping in naked pulling my back to his front.

“Morning,” I moan leaning into him. The way he takes control of me feels so good that I surrender to it.

“Hands,” he says. Not following I turn to look back at him when he pushes my arms forward placing my palms on the tile. Not a word was exchanged when he parted me and slid in. Maybe I knew he was close by or maybe my body was always ready for his, either way I gave him no resistance. With slow and steady thrusts, I listen to our skin slapping while the water soaks us both. His forearms slid across mine where he then rested his palms over the tops of my hands.

Looking at the beauty of our skin, I wondered one day if our kids (should we have them) would be light skinned or dark. Personally, I wanted any fictional children to look like their father. He was a beauty that should be replicated.

“Gonna blow,” he grunts into my ear.

“Me too,” I moan back.

And before either of us do, he turns me around and lifts me onto his lap with my legs resting over his thighs and my back against the tile. Biting down, he covers the same spot he bit the night before. That, along with my fingers, triggered my orgasm which triggered his. Slowly sliding back down to find my feet he smiles at me. Honest to God, smiled.

“No g-spot this time?” he asks lacing his fingers with mine.

“It’s like the holy grail,” I giggle. “But you found it once, you’ll find it again.”

“What happened to your wrist?” he asks pulling to his face to inspect it.

“Nothing,” I whisper trying to pull away.

“Don’t,” he says firmly.

“What the fuck cut you?”

“Nothing cut me,” I assure him. But the hot water certainly made it stand out, always did. “I had my own secrets too, Rome.”

Shutting the water off and turning my wrist back and forth, he looks from it to me and back to it.

“Twenty nine,” he says with disbelief. “That was my number, twenty nine.”

“I know.”

“When did you do this?”

“The day you were sentenced.”

“Why?” he growls at me. “Tell me why!”

“So you’d always be with me.” I say simply.

Climbing out the shower he hands me a towel before taking one for himself. Propped up against my sink my bathroom felt like a box. I didn’t do it to upset him, I did it for me never thinking in a million years he’d actually see it.

“Since high school my number was twenty nine,” he says still rubbing my wrist. “Now I’ve lost my number but I’ve got you.”

“Rome…”

“I’d lose the number again to be standing here in your bathroom.”

“Twenty nine
is
a beautiful number,” I tell him. “Years from now when we look back on this we’ll remember that you were twenty nine when we found each other again.”

“Christ,” he says staring at his feet. “Twenty nine.”

“It’s a good number,” I tell him dropping the towel.

“It’s a great number,” he mumbles reaching for me. Sweeping me up and carrying me to my bed, he sets me down and says, “We can fuck later, I’m running to the store then heading home to clean before she gets here tomorrow. Later tonight, that ass is mine.”

“Wait!” I call out before he clears the door. “Don’t forget the shoe box on the floor!”

Smirking at me he mutters, “Twenty fucking nine,” and leaves.

“Your smile is contagious,” she says biting the tip of her pencil. Fuck me, was she flirting or being literal? “But I like your eyes the best. You know you’re good looking so it’s not like I have to point it out, but your eyes, Roman, they tell me a different story.”

“Yeah? What kind of story are they telling, Teach?”

“Fiction mostly,” she says not once breaking her stare. “At least I think so. The Roman they see and the Roman I see are two different people. The guy staring at me right now, likes to hide from me but should know by now that he doesn’t have to. That other guy? The one they see? He’s fiction, he’s not real, he’s a character, fake.”

“The fuck!” I growl at her stealing the pencil from her mouth. This right here is why I’m terrified of her. What female says shit like this? Her, that’s who.

“This back and forth we’re doing, well you’re doing, is doing more harm than good.” She says breaking the stare. “I just ask that when I’m with you here or hanging out elsewhere that I get this Roman, the real one or I’d rather you find another tutor and part time friend.”

“I am not fake,” I yell at her. “The hell are you playing at? Let me guess, you’re jealous again?”

“No,” she sighs. “Okay yes, I am jealous.”

“I fucking knew it---“