Page 26 of Grown Folks Confessions: Black Lush

“You did.” I leaned slightly closer to her. “But I meant that shit when I asked.”

Her eyes widened. “And now, we’re legally married.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that took hold of my mouth. “We are.” My voice had grown deeper, huskier than usual as I held back emotions that were flooding through my body. There was so much more I wanted to tell her. So many confessions that I’d buried deep in the back of my mind that were threatening to break free because even though they were my secrets to bare, they belonged to Layla. Revelations that surrounded her and our almost-but-never-was relationship.

After moments of silence, she momentarily turned to listen to something an employee of the winery was explaining about the next wine that was circulating, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Layla. She looked breathtaking tonight in her floor-length, black dress with a high split. Yet, it wasn’t just her outer beauty that was shining. “Being here and talking with like-minded people suits you.”

She cleared her throat. “How you can casually switch topics after talking about New York, your proposal, and my pussy is beyond me.”

My face grew serious. “La, I’ve been thinking about your pussy since before we were old enough to have sex. It’s a constant thought on my mind, and that’s not to say that’s the only reason I’m so fascinated by you, but looking back, I’m sure you declined my last marriage proposal because it was right after every dirty thing we did to each other in First Class Fantasy.”

She gasped. “I did. It all seemed like too much.”

Nodding, I reassured her that, “I get it. With us, it never seemed like the right time or maybe there wasn’t enough of the right kind of moments.” I touched the bottom of one of her twists, slightly pulling the hair until the curl bounced back into place. “Being with you now, though, this feels pretty damn perfect.”

“Do you feel like we wasted time not being together before now?” she asked, regret present in her eyes.

“No, I don’t,” I professed. “I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve shared in the past, but something tells me that this is where we should be right now. Fake to real marriage and all.”

When she laughed, it took everything I had not to tell her I wanted to hear that laugh forever. No use pushing my luck when I’d finally gotten my girl’s attention.

eleven

Grown Folks Confession #11: When you learn that sex is deeper than penetration, you figure out who is worthy of penetrating your soul and who needs to get thrown out with the trash.

LAYLA

Provocative.If there was one word to describe how I felt about the way Ares had been talking all night, that was the word for it. Yeah, every now and then a sexy word or two would roll off his tongue, but honestly, even listening to him nerd out about different art techniques to other contestants had me clenching my thighs a little tighter.

He didn't show that side of himself often.

I fuckinglovedseeing him like that.

Tonight, he’d worn black slacks and a short-sleeved, grey button-up that had me drooling because you could see his tats peeking out around his rolled-up sleeves. Together, we’d been on fire tonight, and even though Ares and I had always worked a room well, something extra had been in the air.

It’s because you’re married,that little voice inside of my head teased. Even if we were legally married, it wasn’t real, but damned if he didn’t feel like he was mine and mineonly.

“Want to open one of the wine bottles they gave us tonight?” he asked when we’d made it back to our hotel room.

“I’d love that,” I told him, taking off my heels and sitting down on the loveseat in the room. “I heard this place has a beautiful pool.”

“I heard that, too.” He took no time pouring us a couple glasses and joining me on the loveseat. After taking a sip of his wine, he uncurled my legs and placed them over his lap. We’d sat this way a few times before when he’d been over my house for movie night, but everything about right now felt heightened. He caught me off guard when he started rubbing my toes, his hands like magic because they really did hurt.

“What was your favorite part about today?” he asked, kneading my heels.

“Uh, I think I liked the conversations during dinner. Really enlightening.”But not as much as his hands are.Thank God I’d gotten a pedicure before we’d left Chicago because not only was he rubbing my feet, but he was intently looking at them as well.

“See something you like?” I teased.

“I do,” he stated. “Been thinking about this all night.”

“What?” I asked, gasping when he popped my big toe in his mouth.

“Um. You don’t have … I wasn’t. What are you doing?” I finally asked, but he didn’t answer, his tongue moving to each of my toes as if it were purely natural for him to be doing this.

I was squirming in my seat, trying to keep my ass planted still, but finding it impossible as I watched his long tongue and hands do shit to my feet that had never been done before.

“No one’s ever done this before,” I muttered breathlessly, soft moans escaping every time he hit a ticklish spot. “I didn’t even know I’d like this.”

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