Page 1 of Surrender Your Heart
Honey
H i sh a n d sc a r e s s e dmy thighs, dragging slowly while his lips brushed the inside of my knee first, then higher. It was just enough to make me whimper in the back of my throat. He looked up at me with that dark, devastating stare, all hunger and calm control.
“Open wider for me, baby,” he whispered, voice heavy like smoke. “Let me taste what’s mine.”
I gasped. I opened. I surrendered. His mouth—hot, wet, reckless—met my pussy with tongue and teeth, flicks and sucks that sent me clawing at the sheets, twisting and trembling as the sound of my own moans filled the air. He pinned me down with one hand to my lower belly while the other slid up to grip my throat.
“You know better than to run from me,” he growled.
I couldn’t breathe, and I swear, I didn’t want to. My body shattered around his name. “Legend…”
I bolted upright in bed, panting, sweating, my silk bonnet halfway off my damn head, and my heart punching my ribs. I blinked against the morning light spilling through my curtains, disoriented as hell and soaked through my panties.
I sat back against the headboard, trying to catch my breath, but it was no use. My nipples were hard. My thighs were clenched. And my mind was right back on that island… right back in that state of mind when he gripped my hips and talked me through every single orgasm like he was God. Working my pussy as if to say,“You gon’ remember me every time you cum. I promise you that.”And I did. Every damn time.
I pushed the covers off with a groan and slid out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom. I needed a cold ass shower. Or a new vibrator. But definitely a plan. Because that invitation? The one that came with flowers at my first store anniversary last week? It was still sitting on my dresser, taunting me.
After I showered, gave myself a pep talk, and applied a dose of discipline to keep from fantasizing again, I moisturized, did my face with a light and pretty beat, and threw on my favorite black jumpsuit that hugged me in all the right places. I pinned up my shoulder-length boho twists into a bun, slipped a pair of gold hoops in my ears, and a nude glossy lip finished the look. Boss bitch mode: activated.
By the time I got to the front of my store before it opened, my best friend and store manager, Tyrae, was already insidewith a cup of iced matcha and two breakfast croissants waiting on the counter.
“Look at you,” she said with a smirk. “All glowy and shit. Let me find out you finally opened that damn card.”
I rolled my eyes as I locked the front door behind me. “Girl, you been nosy for seven days straight.”
“That’s because you been walking around like your vibrator needs to file a restraining order,” she said, passing me my matcha.
“You know what? I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” she grinned. “You love me for being right. Now tell me, what’s the holdup? Why haven’t you said yes yet?”
I leaned against the counter and took a sip, the cool matcha helping a little but not enough. “Because it’s him, Ty. Legend. That weekend… it wasn’t just sex. We both felt… something. I don’t even know what it was, but I haven’t been the same since.”
“And yet here you are, bitch. CEO of a thriving ass business, bomb ass house, two luxury cars, and new energy. Honey, babe, you’re doing the damn thing.”
I sighed. “Because of him. You don’t get it.”
Tyrae raised her brows. “I don’t? Bitch, we talked on that island before and after him snatching your soul multiple times. Trust, I get it.”
I choked on my drink. “Ty!”
She cracked up, flipping through the clipboard of shipments and inventory behind the counter. “Look, all I’m saying is, it’s just a weekend. You said y’all both felt something outside of the bomb sex, so… why not explore that shit? You could come back the Mrs. to his whole empire bitch!”
I tried to laugh, but the tightness in my chest wouldn’t let me. “I hear you,” I whispered more to myself than her.
The rest of the day moved in a blur of customers, inventory checks, social media posts, and a quick meeting with my accountant over lunch.Honey Luxe Beautywas thriving better than I could’ve imagined. But between every laugh with a customer, I could feel it creeping in again. That ache. The emptiness. That wild-ass need that no toy, no situationship, no random flirtation could ever touch. Legend had really left his mark on my body and my mind, and that invitation stayed resurfacing in my thoughts.
Later that night, back at home, I sat on my patio with a glass of wine, barefoot, robe on, candle flickering beside me. I looked out at the skyline of my city and thought of everything I’d built and everything I’d become. And yet… something was still missing. Something that looked like him and sounded like his voice. Something that tasted like his mouth and stretched me like his dick.
I sipped my wine slowly and let my eyes drift to the stars.
“I knew you would, baby. But uh, one more weekend. Yours, if you want it.”
I wasn’t ready to say yes, but I damn sure wasn’t ready to say no either.
LEGEND
T h ei c ec l i n k e din my glass as I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows while staring out at the city like I owned it. Because, in pieces, I did. Moving money. Moving people. Controlling demand, manipulating silence, buying loyalty. To most, I was just another rich black nigga with a solid real estate portfolio and clean-ass suits.
