Page 135 of Grace

She panted and eventually moaned. I filled my lungs with air, holding it in until she’d developed a rhythm so good, I grunted it out. I didn’t move, too unsure and amazed by her passion to. I wasn’t a man who fell victim to the trap of intimidation—by no fucking body. Since my late teenage years, I was keen to everyone not only having flaws, but weaknesses, too. And with that simple philosophy, I’d never allowed people to intimidate me. The last man to get that off on me, his daughter was drowning me with her eager pussy. And it was her pussy that could possibly trip me up with the reminder of Ashira not being the average woman I’d encountered in my teenage years. The way the soft walls of her pussy gripped me confirmed it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered almost in a cry from beneath me, arms clasped to the wings of my back as she climbed me with her most intimate part. “I hated that you left. I thought it was for good.”

Straining over her, I croaked, “Don’t sweat it.” She really didn’t have to. I simply went home, showered, changed, and made a few phone calls about the Lewinski mergers. Coming back had been in my plans since I walked out, vexed as hell about her tone with me. I was crazy about this girl in a way I knew was dangerous—spiritually and emotionally. But there was one thing I knew for sure. “You’ll never have another man in your bed or between your legs.” I fought the intoxicating sensations Ashira was bringing me to. “Neither will I.”

Her hips worked harder and, out of nowhere, her breathing grew loud until she shook, vibrating around my cock and beneath my tense body. Baby girl was coming, using me without my efforts.

I was sure Ashira thought my words were filled with just passion from being caught up.

Little did she know, I never missed in life. She’d been added to my list.

We strolled up to a grand entrance of a colossal neo-classical style home. Ashira’s clutch of my arm seemed more protective than affectionate. Either way, I’d take it.

“We’ve added on to the original style my family started with when they built this home by hand,” Ashira explained in our approach.

It was far more contemporary than the rest of the massive property, mostly unpaved roads and smaller homes, almost like a camp. Even the one we were staying in; we’d dropped our luggage off and changed into cooler clothes so she could take me on a forty-eight acre land tour. Where we were due to stay was a cabin with one and a half bedrooms, a single bathroom, kitchen, and living room. Ashira described it as cute and I understood it was because of the quaintness of the structure: small yet efficient. There were about four more just like it dispersed on the land.

This place was like a private village, family owned and operated. A farm with cows, chickens, pigs, horses, and other animals. Some were for food and others breeding. The lake, not far from our cottage, took up about eleven miles wide and a ten-mile length of the estate. There was an impressive stretch of cropland, too, where the family harvested their own grains, vegetables, and fruits. The ‘village’ was self-sustaining, its ecosystem impressive as hell. A Harlem kid like me was overwhelmed with the rurality of the layout. It was all dope, though. A former Black slave started this. His powerful legacy continued and maintained it.

“It was first a five-bedroom home. Took quite some time to complete, but he made it work. And of course, over the years, the family has expanded the structure,” Ashira continued.

“This is fly as hell,” I whispered, glancing around at the tall trees, craftly laid cement work of the driveway, and pillars framing the front of the main house.

We made it to the porch, carrying bags we’d brought along on the flight. Ashira turned to me. “The weekend has finally come. Enduring two days with my mother...” She pulled in a deep breath, shoulders relaxing as she let it out.

It was too late for her to explain what she meant by that, so I didn’t ask. Besides, whatever she wanted me to know about her moms, Ashira would have shared it before showing up to her peoples’ property.

“You never have to stay where you’re uncomfortable, especially when I’m around.”

Her response was a nod I was sure was a sign of her lack of confidence. It was like premature defeat. Then she opened the door.

“Hello!” She walked inside and I followed into the circular foyer. “We’re here!”

“Hey, Shi-Shi,” someone called out.

“We’re in here waiting,” another shared.

Ashira followed the sound of their voices and turned the corner into a great room ahead of me. “Oh, my goodness!” she shrieked. “You’re all here!”

I waited, watching her hug eight people, most elderly. They smiled and seemed genuinely happy with her presence. Ashira then turned and introduced me to her great-aunts and uncles and cousins. “Sabrina here is my mother’s niece. She’s a physician, finishing up her Master’s in public health,” Ashira explained to me while the room beamed at that accomplishment. “Talk about goals!”

“Girl, please,” Sabrina waved her hand. “You run a construction firm. We grew up in the shadows of the giant who started that company, always in awe. Now, look who’s filled those shoes!” Then Sabrina addressed me. “I don’t know what industry you’re in, but building homes isn’t as easy as most would think. And a Black business lasting almost half a century is almost unheard of.”

“What do you do, young man?” her great uncle, Frank, asked.

Before I could answer, Ashira gushed. “I think an easier answer for us is what Jas doesn’t do.” She lifted the bag she held and reached for one of mine. “And we can start with these. Here are bottles ofMauveandChâteau Blevin.”

“Oh.” Sabrina blinked. “The limited edition!”

“So, you’re familiar?” Ashira asked with an uncontrolled smile and a posture of pride that turned me on in yet another way I’d never felt. My girl looked to be proud of my work.Damn… “Yes. Jas is a minor investor inMauveand he ownsChâteau Blevin.” She shook her head, grinning hard as hell. “And that’s just where we’re beginning.”

There Ashira went with that lexical upper-crust expressions. But to be real, I wasn’t offended. It was actually cool to hear my accomplishments being run down in an official way.

And by my girl…

I was still getting used to that, too.

Sabrina turned to me with a hole in her face, her mouth was that wide open. A few others in the room had similar reactions. I pulled off a humble smile, not wanting to be one of those emotionless idiots from the block. I could tell by the contemporary design of the home and the posture of the people that Ashira came from proper stock. This all seemed so…her—but was definitely all good for me. This trip was about her.

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