Page 4 of Raising Love
“Couldn’t be me.” I shook my head. “The mystery would drive me insane.”
She chuckled.
“Do you at least have names picked out?”
“We have a name for each,” she replied, her voice warm. “We’ll share them when it’s time. Just make sure you handle your godmother duties this weekend.”
I cringed. “Godmother, Kenni? Are you sure about this?”
“Ivy, we’re not having this conversation again,” she said firmly.
“I just... I don’t know the first thing about babies, Kenni. They're like little aliens to me.”
“You’ll learn,” she assured me, her tone light.
“Hmph.”
“Just don’t forget this weekend,” she added. “The invitations you sent out were adorable, by the way.”
I smiled, feeling a flicker of pride. “Already being the best godmother ever, huh?”
“Exactly,” Kendra agreed, laughing. “This weekend, then. I love you, girl.”
“And I love you back.”
TWO
leo
“Oh, God. Oh God!” Vanessa shouted in my ear, clinging tightly to my back. “Oh my God.”
The silk sheets on my bed crinkled beneath us, emphasizing my movements as I moved in and out between Vanessa’s clenching walls.
“Oh, baby, ohhhh, right there!”
“Mmm-hmm,” I groaned, my body quivering over her as I guided us both through a slow-building climax.
I could feel her nails digging into my back like she was trying to claw out a mound of clay. The pain mixed with the pleasure, making me roar my release into the pillow beneath her head.
“Oh God, you’re so good,” she exhaled, then pressed her lips to my shoulder. “My goodness.”
That was my name every time Vanessa and I spent time like this. God. I was her God, and I loved that shit so damn much.
I lifted myself just enough to roll off her and onto my pillow, but Vanessa gripped my back and wrapped her legs around my waist, keeping me in place.
“Mmm,” she moaned, pressing another kiss into my shoulder. “Don’t move.”
I sighed out a laugh, putting in a little more effort to break free from her hold. I finally succeeded, rolling to my side and relaxing on my pillow, my eyes fixed on the ceiling as I caught my breath.
She was on me a second later—her leg, at least—as she draped it over my thigh.
I tried to keep my annoyance to myself.
Vanessa was a woman I met at a club during one of my paid appearances. She was Halle Berry in the ’90s fine. Same short cut and all. Men in the club were damn near offering to pay her rent for the next five years when I spotted her in VIP, seeing no one but me, eyeing me like a bald eagle.
She was bold but still knew how to play it cool, which I liked. The thing I didn’t like, though, was her penchant for being clingy. That night, and every other night for the past two summers, it showed.
She moved in closer, angling her lips toward my neck before shifting to kiss my lips.
