Page 16 of Real's Love

“I’m going to unlock the door and open the garage for you. I’ll be down in a minute,” her soft voice, thick with her southern background, announced through the speaker.

“You ain’t gotta open the garage.”

There was a pause, and I heard it opening anyway.

“Real, not everyone is as understanding as I am that you’re a single man who has every right to do what you do. I wouldn’t want one of your other…friendsto see your car and come here on some mess. Anyway, I can see the Grand National. I know you don’t want your baby out in the elements like that.”

I smiled at her words. Look at shorty, thinking she knew me. I had to admit, in some ways, she did. I loved talking to her and hearing her thoughts and feedback. I frowned at what she was trying to do now, though. I wasn’t stupid by far. I saw how she just flipped that shit when the truth was that she probably didn’t want anyone seeing me here. She valued her privacy above all else, as she kept showing me. I could respect it… I guess. But I still felt a way as I pulled my car in beside the BMW I had gifted her. I entered her laundry room from the garage, locking the door behind me. I made my way into the living room to wait. Minutes later, I heard her footsteps on the stairs before she walked to where I sat with my eyes closed, head thrown back against her couch's smooth, dark material.

“Long night?” she asked.

I finally opened my eyes, and something restless inside me settled when I saw her. This woman's effect on me was unlike anything I’d ever felt. She had become my peace, something that wasn’t supposed to happen with our situation. She was undeniably beautiful, lush and thick, from the pouty ass lips on her exquisite face to the full breasts and curvy hips covered by the silky pink tank and pajama pants she wore. Her hair fell around her shoulders, and even at this time of night, her eyes were lined, and her lips were glossed. She never let me see her any other way. It was different, but I figured it was one of her things.

“You could say that,” I said as she went to the small bar in the corner. I watched as she poured a glass of a Glenfiddich single malt Scotch, grabbed a napkin, and brought it to me, setting it on her coffee table. Picking it up, I took a sip, the smooth burn relaxing me even further as my eyes stayed on her while she returned to the bar area.

“You hungry?” she asked as she pulled out a rolling tray, loading it with a grinder, cigars, a splitter, lighter, and some of the fire-ass cannabis I was always sure to leave here. If I had let her know I was coming, she would’ve had two blunts already neatly rolled. I liked watching her do it, though.

“Nah, love, I’m good,” I mumbled, using the pet name I limited to her.

She sat beside me and went to work, her pretty, manicured hands quick and neat with it. I studied her, blown away again by her presence. She was a beautiful, smart woman, a professional, always on top of her game. There were no tears or tantrums when I was here, no ultimatums or sneaking through my phone. I liked that shit at first. Part of me still did. But the fact that she was so… unattached after months of me dropping good dick off in her and taking care of her made me feel some kind of way.

She brought something out of me that no woman had before. I had no problem breaking a little bread with chicks I fucked, but shit with her was next level. Her rent, her car, her beauty routines, her wardrobe—I financed all that and got exclusive access to what I considered paradise and peace—the physical and the mental. It wasn’t that she demanded it, exactly. I liked providing for her.

“Come here,” I murmured a while later, halfway through one of the blunts and patting my lap.

She hesitated for a second, and I frowned. I hated it when she did that. She wasn’t a small chick, but I wasn’t a small man, and I was fully capable of holding her. My look must have communicated all that because she straddled my thighs, pressing the warmth of her pussy against my dick.

“Work was a lot?” she asked softly, stroking my temples down to my jawline. “Look at all this tension. You about to grind your teeth. Let go, suga,” she coaxed.

I sighed, exhaling hard and trying to release the last of the stress. “You have no idea.”

“You know I’m always here to listen.”

“And you’re good at it,” I murmured, turning my head to brush my lips against her forearm. “But shit is handled.”

“If you were involved, I know it was. You really are brilliant, Real.”

This woman was always speaking her belief in me, encouraging me. I loved that shit.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I joked.

She smiled. “Only the really pretty ones.”

I hugged her more tightly, appreciating her attempts to loosen me up.

“I can’t wait to get inside you,” I mumbled against her temple before kissing the silky skin there.

Shorty smelled so fucking good, the intoxicating, floral scent ofJ’Adoregracing her butter-soft skin. She felt good, too, rolling her hips seductively as I gripped them.

“Really?” she teased, sliding an arm around my neck.

“Hell, yeah, love. Open,” I instructed, tugging on her bottom lip with my thumb.

Her mouth parted as I toked on the blunt, then sealed my lips to hers, blowing the slightly sweet smoke into her mouth. I felt her tighten as it hit the back of her throat. I pulled away and she held on for a few seconds before letting the smoke escape her glossed lips in a slow exhale. Before she could object, I covered her mouth again, this time for a kiss. She tensed for a moment but didn’t draw back like I expected. In the beginning, I’d thought she didn’t like my kisses. It didn’t take me long to realize it wasn’t dislike. Baby girl feared my mouth on hers or anywhere else on her body. She had a thing about control, hated to lose it, even when she was writhing and moaning underneath me. My mouth on her skin drove her crazy, pushed her over the edge. She literally wept my name once as I sucked that sweet pussy. She wouldn’t let me eat it again for days.

I licked her bottom lip, appreciating the taste of her gloss before my tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her more intimately. Coaxing her response, I enjoyed the smooth stroke of her tongue and the glide of her soft lips. I tangled my free hand in her hair, making sure I held her mouth fused to mine, tongues entwining until I decided to come up for air.

Leaning back, I drew on the blunt as I gazed at her lips, wet and puffy from my kisses. I loved that shit, loved when she looked a little less perfect, a little more touchable. She steadied herself, pressing her palms against my chest. Holding her pretty brown gaze, I smoked silently until she leaned forward, parting her lips and inviting the smoke that I streamed into her mouth. This time, when she pulled back, the lust in her eyes was evident. She slid out of my lap and gracefully lowered to her knees. Shorty unlaced the black, Retro Jordan 3s I was wearing and -eased them off. Reaching to the left of her, I ashed the blunt on the little vintage Hermès ashtray she'd brought over.

---