Page 39 of Serenity

Sluggishly, I watched Serenity dress in preparation for a brief departure. If I had my way, she’d be tied to the bed, but Gray Hotel lacked four poster bed frames in favor of a more contemporary design.

“Come here, Bee.”

Without hesitation, she eliminated the space between her and the bed where I was bundled under covers.

“Why do you call me Bee?”

A weighty cough fought to clear my throat before I could respond. “Little bee. Busy bee. That’s you. You work tirelessly. You probably work in your sleep, huh?”

The warmth of her smile heated the room.

“That’s Big Bee to you, and yes, I do work in my sleep. I come up with the best ideas while unconscious,” she tittered, landing a kiss on my lips as she talked with her hands and lengthy ass nails.

“Ain’t no reward for that, Big Bee. Come back here. Give me another one.” Roped around her wrist, my fingers held firm. Begging for kisses, Duke? This shit was ridiculous.

“Mmh,” I groaned, relishing the feel of her lips.

“I’ll be back with your care package.” Again, she attempted to pull away from my grasp.

“One more,” despicably, I begged, sitting up on the bed and tossing my legs across the edge.

With a twirl of her eyes, a flutter of her lashes, and a smile, she stepped back between my legs. As she lowered to my lips, my legs closed around her and pulled her back into bed.

“Duke!” She laughed. “Let me go before we both end up in here sick.”

“So much fucking honey,” I laughed, covering my mouth to cough away from her face. “If you didn’t want my germs, you shouldn’t have gotten on the lift.”

“But you took me so high,” dreamily, she sighed.

“Get out of here before I take you higher.” With a smack to her ass, I issued the threat.

After Serenity left, I fell into a hacking fit. It was as if her presence had healed me. Conversely, her absence sickened me. Those thoughts alone were alarming. We didn’t know each other well yet, but the level of comfort experienced in her proximity was beyond the scope of my understanding.

In privacy, I shuffled around the penthouse, tidying things that had fallen into disarray. Serenity likely had already seen bits of the chaos, but still. I didn’t need her settling on the notion that I was a dirty nigga.

Operating at fifty percent with a fever had killed the desire for order and cleanliness. Once the cold took over, I kept the DO NOT DISTURB hanger outside the door to prevent the spread of germs. Earlier in the week, the owner of the hotel, Gray, called me personally to thank me for the consideration—not infecting his entire staff.

As I moved around, picking up clothes and trash simultaneously, I phoned the most pertinent people about what was pressing me most.

“Aye.”

From the opposing end of the line, the informal greeting was issued.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Oh. Concerning what? You know my old lady’s about to drop. I ain’t moving around like that right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, nigga. This is equally important. Something I’d rather discuss in person.”

The line quieted.

“Sooner rather than later,” I tacked on, emphasizing my urgency.

“Then catch me at the office. Monday is my last day.”

“Aight, bro.”

“Love.”

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