Page 11 of Good As Hell

“Humph, you never know about people,” Fi mumbles, scrolling on her phone as I walk by heading to the back of the cabin.

When I return, she meets me in the aisle.

“Girl, look at this mess. Joi was on a real one today.” The horror on her face has a sick, sinking feeling settling in my tummy.

SHELBY-LOVE CHRONICLE EXCLUSIVE

SUPER STAR’S SECRET SON

“I knowthe fuck she didn’t,” I swear, looking at the time stamp on the article. It’s marked six hours earlier, well before the incident. Right beside a picture of my son is a description and guesstimates of my son’s age and parentage. She says clearly that he has green eyes and assumes he’s biracial, which he’s not. Hassan is Black North African.

Grabbing my phone, I hit FADE’s number. “Aye, Lyric. I hear congratulations are in order. I got a nephew, man?” He growls over FaceTime, his handsome face marred by the deep cutting turn of his lips. “Everything makes sense now. How did you get Fi to keep this big of a secret? I’ll never know.” His deep baritone holds all the emotion I wanted to avoid. Disbelief, hurt and anger as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.” I start.

“Nope. You don’t get to do that shit, Lyric. We’ve been together too long for that kind of BS. I know why you did it, baby girl. One look at him and I knew why you disappeared out of ourlives for two years and cancelled your world tour.” He shakes his head again, sighing before raking his hand through his close cropped curls in agitation.

I still remember how he put himself on the line telling people I needed a mental health break and I was taking a hiatus. He defended me when people were saying I was on drugs; orchestrating a publicity stunt, or I was just being difficult holding out for more money.

“I was scared you’d tell him. He’s one of your best friends.” I move away from where Ayaan is sleeping, not wanting to him seeing me upset if he wakes up.

“Damn straight, I would tell him as soon as I knew. You have no right keeping that man’s child from him, Lyric. What the fuck are you were thinking?” Raking his hands through his curls again, he looks at me in disbelief, his words angry at my betrayal.

“I wasn’t, okay? My fear overwhelmed me.” My heart is racing just thinking back to how the best night of my life turned into a nightmare.

Stretching,I reach out and the bed is empty. Sitting up, I push the wild mass of curls out of my face. I only wear wigs for performances. I’m so tender headed, I’d be inviting a migraine if I constantly wore the tight bands on my head that Fi uses to secure my hair for shows and appearances. Mostly when I’m not in public, I wear my hair in its natural kinky curls.

Hassan didn’t seem to mind though, if anything he seemed to love touching my hair all night.

Checking the empty space and the open door to the bathroom and him not emerging, I guess time is up. It’s very close to dawn and I don’t know what made me wake. His side isstill kind of warm. So he can’t have left too long ago. Maybe he’s giving me the respect of a less awkward goodbye.

The light streaming in reminds me of the rarity of me ever being up this early. Most nights find me in the studio making music or collaborating with FADE, Ghadi or some other up-and-coming artist FADE has his eye on and wants to give a chance. Late nights in the studio never make for early mornings. The sun is so beautiful. It draws me like a load stone out to the balcony.

Grabbing the button-down shirt he tossed on a nearby chair, I step out into the windswept morning, going straight to the balcony looking out to the skyline. It’s always beautiful. I never regret the move here and leaving New York state. FADE says I abandoned him, but Delightful understands since she lived out here for years and now both her sisters stay here and she visits often. I know she’s hoping to sway him over to the west coast.

Inhaling, I get a whiff of the familiar scent of him. A movement draws my attention. Turning, I see him rising. He grabs his prayer rug, folding it, his gaze raking over me.

“Sorry, I just wanted to see the sunrise. It’s so beautiful.” My voice sounds so soft and hesitant. It’s something about this man that softens me. Makes me want to please him like I’ve never felt the urge to for anyone in my life — not even Justice, who was the kindest, sweetest soul to have ever graced this earth. I know I’m building him up, but I want to keep that one thing as close to perfect because for a long time he was my only good thing.

Placing the rug on the chair as he passes, he comes to stand before me. He’s dressed in white linen and I can tell my this swing of his dick against the fabric that the linen pants are all he has on.

“You are what’s beautiful.” He looks at me like he means it. Blushing, I turn from him and ducking my head, suddenly verymuch aware of the wildness of my hair and how I probably look sleep drunk.

His heavy presence crowds behind me. “Plus, I like you wearing my shit.” The low growl hits me like the most potent aphrodisiac. Heat pools low in my belly, which only intensifies when I feel the press of his hard dick on my bottom.

“I know I said just for the night but I want you again if you would have me, Lyric.” I’m already nodding, turning to go back to the room .

“No, here.” He turns me back to the sun rising over the horizon.

He positions me with my legs spread and my ass tilted to take him. Dropping his linen trousers, he steps between my spread thighs wrapping his strong arm around my waist to hold me steady.

“I’ll try to be gentle, jameela, but that’s all I can do it is promise to try because you were such a good fucking girl taking me last night I fear I may lose control like I did last night in this good ass pussy.” He talks me through it as he pushes his thick, hard length past my lips and breaches my pussy with the most insistent thrust.

“Ohmygoodness, Hassan,” I whimper, taking every thick inch he’s giving me.

“You’re doing so good, babe. Take this motherfucker like the Empress you are,” he commands me like he owns every inch of me and in this moment he does. There’s nothing he could ask of me I won’t give him.

“Is it good?” He has the nerve to ask.

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