As if on cue I exploded and Nasseem fucked me fast, my juices splashing wildly between us. He leaned up and licked my ankle, stroking me faster until he came too. We didn’t just have sex. We claimed each other, again and again.
Later, I lay in his arms—our bodies tangled on the bed, breath slowing. Nasseem ran a lazy hand along my thigh and pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
“Why here?” he asked quietly. “Why not your place? Or mine?”
I turned my head to look at him, my fingers tracing the lines of his chest.
“Because this is where it started,” I said. “Where we kept it hidden in this room. The secret hallway and whispered names. But I’m done with all of that.” He looked at me, brows drawn. “I want this to be our last night in hiding,” I continued. “Last time needingPleasureto be our safe space. Unless, you know… we wanna sneak back in for fun.” He smirked, but I wasn’t finished. “I wanna be with you. Out loud, no more pretending like you ain’t mine.”
He blinked slowly, as if absorbing every word. “You serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
He exhaled, dragging a hand over his beard before cupping my face. “You know how long I been waiting to hear that?”
I smiled against his palm. “Well… now you heard it.”
He kissed me slow. Deep. Full of all the shit we’d been too scared to say. And in that moment, I knew we were done playing small. Whatever came next—we were stepping into it together. Out loud. Out front. Finally.
10
NASSEEM
The cigar lounge sat low on La Brea, tucked behind a wine bar and two doors down from a private supper club only real money knew existed. Inside, it was dim and warm, lit with amber sconces that bounced off the exposed brick. Jazz hummed low from hidden speakers, and the smell of sweet tobacco, oak, and expensive cologne filled the air. We had the back room to ourselves—leather club chairs circled around a low table, a bottle of Louis XIII breathing in the center next to an open box of Cuban cigars and a sterling silver cutter.
Creed was already posted up, navy blue joggers and a hoodie, fresh fade, one leg stretched out with a cigar half-burned in his fingers. Brodie sat next to him, shirt sleeves rolled up, gold watch gleaming every time he raised his glass. Royal had his feet propped up, grey tee tight on his chest, his diamond wedding band flashing every time he reached for the bottle. And next to him, Zay—his wildcard security-slash-best friend-slash-certified shit talker—leaned back with his shades on inside, because Zay gon’ be Zay. It felt good to be around them. It felt familiar and grounding.
I took the open seat next to Creed and leaned forward to grab a cigar, cutting’ it clean before lighting up and taking that first pull. Smooth. Strong. Just like the night was about to be.
“Damn, Nas,” Brodie said with a low laugh, watching me light up. “You always smoke like you just finished doing some shit you not proud of.”
“I probably did,” I muttered, blowing smoke through my nose.
“Here we go,” Royal said, grinning. “Nigga came in already mysterious.”
Zay poured everyone up a round of cognac before sitting back in his chair. “So, who we airing out first tonight? What demons we dragging out under cigar smoke and dark liquor?”
Brodie raised his hand. “Shit, I’ll go.” We all turned to him, and he sighed, rubbing a hand over his head. “Man, it’s Ari. She been on her grind hard lately. Courtroom, consultations, conferences—all that boss shit. Meanwhile, I’m home juggling three kids under five. The twins are up my ass every two minutes, then Alani be into everything. It’s chaos.”
Creed chuckled. “You wanted all them kids.”
“I still want more,” Brodie admitted. “That’s the crazy part. But I know Ari ain’t with it right now. Every time I bring it up, she shuts it down like the convo’s not even up for discussion.”
Royal leaned forward. “You asked her if she was ready? Or you just brought it up on some ‘I want a baby’ type timing?”
Brodie hesitated. “I mean…both?”
Zay shook his head. “See, that’s your problem. You tryna bring a whole human into the mix like she ain’t the one doing the heavy lifting. Hormones, body changes, recovery. My boy, you got two hyper ass twins and a toddler.”
“I know that,” Brodie said, frustrated. “But it still don’t change how I feel. I want a big family. I thought she did too.”
Creed took a sip and chimed in. “You do. But timing matters, bro. Maybe right now just ain’t it. Maybe she needs space to breathe before y’all expand again.”
“I get that,” Brodie muttered. “I just wish she’d say it with her chest instead of brushing me off like I’m being unreasonable.”
“You’re not unreasonable,” I told him. “You just need to meet her where she at. You work a lot too. Both y’all been grindin for years. Just give it time.”
Brodie nodded, taking it in. “Yeah. You right.”