Coveted: An Alpha Male Romance (8 page)

Rocco de Michele

“Give me a minute, Gabe. I’ll be in in a minute.” I tried to ignore the fucked up look that he gave me as he grabbed the handle of the Range Rover. But I couldn’t. I chuckled. “Get the fuck out.”

He opened the door with a smile and climbed out. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Whatever.”

But before the door could shut, I was scrolling through my call history until I got to “Baby,” and hit the call button.

I hadn’t wasted anytime making my way into Yanna’s life. At that point, she really didn’t have a choice. I was taking her, whether she liked it or not.

But, luckily, she did like it, so I knew that I wouldn’t have to do much persuasion. She tried to act cool, but I could feel that she was finally getting used to the idea of having me in her life as more than Rocco, the skinny kid that lurked in her corners in high school. She was finally seeing me as a man, the man that had feelings for her. Though we hadn’t gone out officially yet, I knew that she was already mine.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Baby.” Though there was music and noise in her background, I could hear the sadness in her voice.

Alert, I sat up in the driver’s seat. “What’s wrong?”

“How did you know that I needed to talk to you right now?”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“At the Shrine with Tammy and Courtney.”

I imagined her in one of those tight dresses that women wore to the club. I imagined her voluptuousness in that dress, how good she must look and the assholes that must be staring at her like fucking perverts, and I instantly got jealous.

I sighed inwardly and rubbed my forehead with my hands.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighed, saying, “Long day. Nothing reall–”

“You’re lying.”

“You know me so well, Daddy.”

Whoa! What?

Jealously instantly turned into the need to stick my cock in her. That word coming from those sweet lips in her sweet, feminine sound had me ready to cum right then.

“What did you just call me?” If Gabe could see the smile on my face, he would be talking shit until next year.

Yanna giggled as I heard toilets flushing in the distance. “Daddy.”

“Do you call everybody that?”

“Hell no,” she said. “It just came to me. I don’t know. It sounds like it fits you, with me anyway. You take care of me. You care about me. You adore me. It’s like, I’m the light of your eyes. You’re so aggressive and you protect me, even with your words, but you handle me with so much care…. You’re my Daddy.”

So many words were fighting to come out of my mouth, but what won was, “I think I’m in love.”

She giggled, saying, “You’re so silly.”

But I dared not scare her away with convincing her of how true those words were.

Funny, I had so much to say to her when I called but suddenly I couldn’t think of one goddamn thing I had to say. I was tongue tied. This fucking girl had me tongue tied and blushing and shit.

It was crazy.

“So when are we going out?”

Again, alert, I sat up in my seat. “Don’t play with me, woman.”

“I’m serious.” Then she sighed, as if it was one of relief. “I’m ready to spend some real time with you.”

“You sure?”

“Am I sure? You sound like it’s something I should be getting ready for… Is it?”

I looked in the mirror to see if there were devil horns coming through my hood because the grin on my face was so lustfully evil. “Yes. Hell yes.”

Chapter 11

Yanna E. Hill

“Oh my God,” I groaned as I looked at myself in the mirror. “What was I thinking?”

“That you haven’t had any in four years,” Courtney chirped, as he sat on my bed flipping through a Vogue magazine.

I was too indulged in getting my curls right to even respond to him. Tonight, I was going on my first date with Roc. Our first date, though it felt like this was just a formality. We didn’t need a date to signify what we were. We weren’t technically in a committed relationship yet, but, as they say, what is understood doesn’t need to be discussed. I understood his power very well; I was his.

Despite all of that, this would be his first time seeing me outside of gym clothes, so I wanted to look as close to perfection as possible.

However, don’t you know how on any random, unimportant evening, your hair and makeup does exactly what you want it to do without hesitation? You look good in any random ass thing you put on, but the moment you are trying to look good on purpose, it’s a fail?!

I was having one of those nights!

“Stop screwing with those curls. Your hair looks great,” Courtney told me.

“But not great enough.”

“Girl, that man adores you. You could have a freaking fro and he wouldn’t give a shit.”

A smile spread across my red–painted lips. Courtney was right. Roc did indeed adore me. I wasn’t standing in this mirror feeling insecure because I didn’t think that I wasn’t good enough. He assured me every day that I was. But because of that, I wanted to ensure that I looked good for Daddy.

“Fuck it.” I gave up on the hair and walked away from the standing mirror on my wall. Beyond the desire to look like perfection, I did not want to be late. Feeling an obscene amount of butterflies, I approached the dresses that Courtney had laid out for me on the couch in my room.

“Try on the coral one. That color would look great against your skin.”

The dress was a simple, coral knee length fitted dress with spaghetti straps and a sweetheart bust. It was pretty but it wasn’t much. I would have loved for it to be Chanel or Gucci, but on a teacher’s salary, I had gotten it from one of my favorite websites for a hot fifty–four dollars. Yet, as I shimmied in it and stood in the full–length mirror, I couldn’t deny how I felt like a million bucks in it.

“Yaaaas!!” Courtney yelled, as he snapped his fingers. “You look fierce!”

“Are you sure?”

I was being humble. With these curls, and this beat face and this ass, I looked “snatched,” as Courtney would say. I was still a big girl with a lot of curves, but, thanks to shaking off the heartbreak, there were a lot less bumps in the road.

I looked good!

“You don’t even have to try on anymore,” Courtney chimed in with a smile “That’s it!”

“I don’t need to put on my spanx?”

Courtney tilted his head and looked me up and down. My eyes zeroed in on my pudgy stomach. It wasn’t huge but it was just a flaw in a perfect picture.

I made an executive decision. “I’m putting them on.”

****

That night, I learned that the most intimate moments don’t involve sex.

“You look
fucking
amazing,” Roc said in disbelief. His eyes lit up at the sight of me stepping out of the front door. They always did. Sometimes that light in his eyes was so fucking intimidating, at other times I craved to be in it because the validation was so refreshing.

There he stood, on the porch of my condo’s building, staring at me as if he hadn’t seen such a beautiful sight in his life. His stare was intense, just like the first day we saw each other at the gym, which I, again, cowered away from.

He was holding flowers… fucking flowers. Lots of them. He looked like a rough Romeo with, what looked like, at least three dozen roses being held by arms that were covered in ink.

Goddamn he’s sexy.

More than his physical appearance, more than the adoring smile that curled at the tip of his lips, the dimples that gave him a charming appeal against his rough exterior, was his power. His influence and control was sexy and overpowered any other attribute that made him who he was.

“Here. These are for you, Baby.”

And at that moment, seeing it come from his lips, I realized that “Baby” wasn’t a random pet name meant for everyone. It was
my
name.

I stood hesitant in the doorway, looking at him. I was stuck a bit, wondering what I had done, what positive vibes I had sewn into the universe to reap this man into my life. It was too early to tell how far we would go, but just standing there looking at him with those emerald eyes, dark, olive skin and striking features, I couldn’t fathom why I was the girl he’d chosen to pursue. Just taking in his large stature, those big arms and chest that I could imagine would make me feel so small once I was inside of them, I felt like the luckiest girl in this world.

He saw me staring, and for the first time, I saw him cower away from my stare. For a mere few seconds, that rough exterior washed away, and a bashful boy appeared. But he was quickly shunned away and Roc took over again.

“Come on,” he said reaching for my hand. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t even take me to a real fancy restaurant. He didn’t try to wine and dine me and honestly, he had woo’d me enough over the last few weeks that I was okay with that. We were both born and raised in rough areas of the city. No matter how much money he had or how many degrees I had, we weren’t
bougie
people. Our palate and social lives were simple. After dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant downtown, we hit a lounge that was playing nothing but R&B and a little jazz.

We sat at the bar so close that we might as well had been at one of our homes on the couch. It felt like no one was in the bar except us and the bartender. Our conversation was what it had always been. He always wanted to know about my goals and dreams. He was so uplifting and wise. You would think that the man was ten years older than me, rather than just two. But that was why I was beginning to fall for him so hard. He believed in me more than I believed in myself. He not only saw me for who I was, but for who I had the potential become. Whatever I wanted to do, he encouraged me. If my goal was to go to the moon, that man would have been on the goddamn phone with NASA. He was proud of me, of anything that I did, and praised me for not just what I accomplished, but for what I attempted, and simply for who I was.

He accepted me for me, flaws and all.

In a matter of weeks, he had become my confidante. Sitting at that bar, I might as well had been in his bed, with his arms around me and head buried in his chest as I poured out my soul. Tanisha and Courtney had been my best friends for years. I even still kept in touch with Kenyatta, who had hopped from state to state with her husband who was in the Army right after high school. I thought I had told them everything, but talking to Roc was like talking to myself; my secrets would never be revealed, judged or ridiculed. He was the one with whom I could talk about absolutely anything, and I trusted that what I told Daddy stayed with Daddy. I so willingly withheld nothing from him.

I felt so protected, both physically and emotionally. In a matter of weeks Roc had convinced me that, no matter what, he would be where he has always been; in my corner. I felt safe; like he would never hurt me as long as I was with him. I was protected from any further pain – physical or emotional – because he would not allow anyone to hurt me… not even himself.

“Do I make you happy?”

It was very hard for me to answer him. The way he handled me was taking my breath away. I hadn’t had many relationships in my life but I thought that I had been loved by a man before. Though Alex did end up snatching my heart out of my chest and feeding on it, I was happy and in love until the end… or, so I thought. After just weeks with Roc, I realized that the love that Alex was giving was that of what a boy would think was love. With Alex, I wasn’t comfortable, I had some insecurities. I was always wondering about something, anything. But with Roc I could relax and just enjoy.

It was hard to wrap my head around that as I attempted to answer his question. That and his hand was resting on my thigh, on the inside, squeezing every now and then, and it was driving me fucking insane.

Thank God I wore panties.

Finally, I sighed and allowed myself to admit it, “Yes.”

He reached and touched my cheek in such an enduring way that my heart melted… and I creamed.

He watched my expression intently. Never missing when my mood changed. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then what has you looking like that?”

“The fact that making me happy is one of your priorities kind of blows my mind.”

“It’s always been one of my priorities.”

I blushed and the disbelief was evident all over my brown skin.

“If I told you that I wanted you since the day that my father threw me in the trash, would you believe me?”

I did. I was only three at the time, but my mother told the story many times throughout my childhood.

I asked him, “Why didn’t you ever try to pursue me?”

I remembered him always being there while we were in high school. I recalled him randomly coming to the rescue every now and then. But he did a good job of hiding what he claims to have been feeling then.

A small smile crept across his face. “Would you have dated the scrawny Italian boy?”

“Why not? I am now.”

I loved those moments when I was able to take his breath away. He was always woo’ing me, so the rare times that I was able to woo him made me proud. But he never let me gloat. He always quickly hid the affect that I had on him and took control.

“C’mon. I want to see you dance.”

So, we had shared many intimate moments, but they were always verbal or emotional. But this; the way he took me to the dance floor and wrapped his arms around me was the first time that I was finally able to fall into his arms. I inhaled deeply, taking in his heavenly aroma, and when I exhaled, it felt like I was letting out all my stress, worry, and heartache, and giving it to him.

The way that I felt in his arms was so relaxing that it was both exciting and scary. But I just lay my head in his chest, allowed him to hold me and told myself to just let it happen. I took deep breaths and forced myself to listen to the music, and not the rapid beat of Roc’s heart.

♪
This is our story from beginning to end.

Baby listen, you'll see how we became lovers.

Turn it up and you'll hear how we became friend
s
♪

The words made me smile. For some reason, as I continued to listen, it put me in the mind of me and Roc. I made a mental note to ask the DJ what the name of the song was and artist singing it. I couldn’t predict what the future would hold, and I dared not make assumptions. But I had a feeling that this night and this dance was the beginning of me and Roc’s love story.