Page 32 of Don Caselli

There was so many times I could have slid up inside her and I stopped myself.

Why?

Because I had respect for my brother and his dumb ass wishes. No matter how dumb I thought they were, I wasn’t going to crack her shit until Menace was at least open to the idea. I also knew having sex with her, knowing how I felt was a dangerous combination. It was the reason I was emotionally unavailable when it came to sex with women.

Giving a fuck hurt more than people liked to admit.

7

NavyBLEU

The wet dreamsI continued to have about Landon Caselli should have been a crime. I found myself moaning in my sleep, as if I could feel his hands gripping my ass and kissing my lips. Smelling his deep sandalwood and leather combination as I laid in the crook of his neck comforted me more than I thought it would. His beard tickling my nose while he rubbed my back and allowed me to cry.

It not only should have been illegal; it should have never happened because this man had been on my mind since I last saw him the week before. We never exchanged numbers, and when I searched him up on social media, he didn’t have any. What man his age didn’t have a social media where he could flex?

Wouldn’t he want to flex his cars and his money like some guys I grew up with would? Antwan loved to flex the shit that he got from companies that wanted to endorse him. Landon was completely different because he didn’t need to make much noise. He allowed his presence to make the noise for him. At Kennedy’sdinner, as we waited for them to wrap up their conversation, you could see the different chicks wanting a second with him. Meanwhile, he wasn’t bothered by them in the least.

Landon Caselli was art.

When he asked to sit next to me at Kennedy’s dinner, I had to do a double take. I knew like hell a book bae from my kindle didn’t emerge in real life. His scent greeted me before he did. However, I was so wrapped up into my book.

He stood there like he had been hand carved by God himself. His muscles and silence both had a presence of their own, even with him dressed casually. His skin was beautiful. That rich caramel that gets dripped around your ice coffee before the coffee gets poured in. His tattoos told a story that I was more interested in than my kindle at that moment.

His strong jawline, thick beard, and his eyes stayed low as he took everything in. He didn’t smile, but then again, I didn’t need him to smile to appreciate the art that stood beside me asking to sit next to me. When I sat in his lap, looking in his face, I wanted to trace his forehead wrinkles, and his perfectly pink lips. Underneath and off to the side, he had small moles and freckles that added to his beauty.

As I exited the train station, I sipped my matcha and walked down the block to the studio. I was proud of myself because I had been consistent since last week, going three times a week. Although I couldn’t film in her funky studio, I still went because the workout was needed. It helped put me in a better mindset and reminded me that everything would be fine. One step in front of the other. That was what I had to keep reminding myself, because I would lose my mind.

Sitting my phone up on a bench I had come past, I stepped back to do an outfit check. “The DOB of the day is a matcha with a squeeze of lemon… don’t knock it until you try it. London Athletics set and my book of the day is by Sevyn McCray. I’vebeen switching between a few authors, eating all their catalogs up. I have a few errands to run today, so have a great day. Actually, have the day you deserve because some of you be straight funky with your attitude… later loves.” I kissed my hand and quickly grabbed my phone.

I pulled the leggings up and continued down the block toward the studio. London was making athletic sets, and I told her she needed a new manufacturer. You couldn’t sell sets like the one she was, and not ask her consumer to have a BBL. I had more than enough ass, and this was still sliding down on me.

Greene was slimmer when it came to curves, and she looked like a limp green bean in it. Sipping my matcha, I rounded the corner to the studio and stopped when I saw people in and out. I pulled my phone out and looked to see if I had the right date for class.

“Hey Johnni, is there no class today?”

She turned around and smiled. “Hey superstar… we closed the studio down so you can film today.”

“Film what?”

She paused. “You know, your outfits and content for your pages.”

I was so confused as I nervously sipped my matcha so I could figure out what the hell she was chatting about. “I can’t afford to close your studio to film… why would you do this?”

Johnni looked past me with this little schoolgirl grin on her face. “How are you, Landon? It was great talking to you over the phone.”

“Don,” he corrected her. “Appreciated you for getting this pulled together for my baby.” He pulled me closer to him, and I looked at him.

“Hey Johnni, can you give us five minutes?”

“Sure, you can go in the back. I’ll direct them where to put the perfect lighting.” She rushed off to find the lighting men.

There were fucking men with lighting and cameras.

I squeezed his big ass hands in mine as I pulled him toward the back. I closed the door behind us and slowly turned to look at him. He wore a long Nike shirt that clung to his sculpted body, a pair of shorts and running sneakers. He still had a durag on his head. Which was making having this conversation ten times harder.

“What are you doing, Don?”

“Landon,” he corrected me.

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