Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility) (30 page)

He sauntered over to me
, now entering my personal space and his aromatic body odor sent heat coursing through my veins.
Shit!

“I had to make sure you didn’t lose your way. I asked if you wanted a glass of wine.” Looking down at his hands
, I noticed the impressive stemware.

“Oh, thanks
,” I said nervously taking the glass from his hand and taking a sip.

“Like what you see?” He cocked his head to the side and
pushed his tongue against his molars, his tone laced with suggestion again.

I was flushed. “Errrr…yeah…it’s just that your bed…” Words to try to explain what I was doing touching the man’s bed failed me.

He inched closer to me.
Shit. Is he going to kiss me? Is he going to take me here in his room? Will I let him?
I was frozen in place.

Lower
ing his head down to my ear he whispered, “You think the view is something, just wait til you’re in between the sheets. It’ll be a far better experience.”

My mouth dropped open and my breathing hitched. I had suddenly become aware of the puddle in my panties. For the first time in my adult life
, wit fled me. I wanted this man so bad but found myself daunted by the prospect.

“Mmmmmm! Maybe I should have a piece of bread or something while I’m sipping this wine. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starved. I
’d hate to have you throwing me out for vomiting all over your carpet and hardwood floors,” I murmured.

Azmir drew a slow but sensual smile before saying, “I’ll cut you a piece of bread.” He knew he’d had me where he wanted me.

Following him back towards the kitchen, “…with butter, please!” I requested.

As I drank my wine and ate my bread, I did so on the private
balcony off his massive living room. The wind blew softly yet with such tranquil force. The smell of the ocean reminded me of the scent of my new place. But I was at
Azmir’s place
. I had to ask myself if I was ready to take it there with him.
Hell! You have a thug-mogul cooking you dinner as you mull over giving him a piece of you?
Michelle warned me not to leave him without throwing my back into him so that she could live vicariously through me. My body damn sure was ready. But it seemed that at times like this, or after giving up the booty, I discovered the ugly truth in my partner. Azmir was too refreshing a creature to lose what we’d been building.

We’ll see…my lace thong
is strategically placed this evening.

“You ready, Ms. Brimm?” Azmir called out disrupting my introspection. That meant dinner
was ready, I’d hope.

Azmir prepared spaghetti with Italian sausage, a salad
, and the baguette I brought over. It was delicious to say the least. I don’t know if that was because I was hungry or the man had spaghetti-making skills but whatever it was it worked that night. As I apparently ripped through two plates he threw a few joshing remarks my way. I was so hungry that I didn’t even care. I just laughed with a mouth full of food.
Ever the lady!
The merlot had settled in and once we were done, we went into the living room where Brownstown’s “
5 Miles to Empty
” was softly playing in the background.
I loved that group.

We sat on the couch drinking and laughing
—
I laughed, Azmir chuckled
. We even played the ‘
what’s your favorite
’ game. I learned his favorite movie, food, color, songs, artists, and restaurants among other things. I could tell Azmir grew comfortable and easy as the evening progressed. Things had gotten so relaxed that we eventually moved on to
spitting
our best rap eight bars. I tried to get him to sing and he said I already had him out there; he wouldn’t go that far. We started talking more about our worse dates, particularly about our first times. That led to the two different types of sexual intercourse—making love and smashing,
as Azmir put it
.

“See when you smash there’s not much foreplay involved. You just go for what you know…penetration. I know some dudes that
use head as the foreplay, but nonetheless smashing takes place,” he informed me. Clearly, the alcohol forced us into a lax space. We were saying things that we wouldn’t have previously, without liquid courage.

I added, “Speaking from personal experience, when I
smash
as you put it, I like to start with oral as foreplay, too. The idea is getting yours, right? And you know a man is going to get his, but a woman isn’t guaranteed so I make sure I’m in a position—no pun intended—to get mine.”

“Really
? Hmmmmm…” Azmir pondered over my statement with a ruminative posture.
Did I say too much?
“So why can’t you
get yours
during intercourse? Women can have orgasms by way of sex,” he stated facetiously yet with a pensive undertone.

Damn
! I did say too much!
I never liked discussing the fact that I’d never climaxed vaginally, it made me feel inexperienced and not in tuned with my body. This wasn’t the impression I wanted to give Azmir. Besides, he wasn’t speaking with transparence like I’d slipped up and done.

“Yes,
some
of us do, but that’s just Rayna speaking…you know, from
my
experience.”

“What’s that
supposed to mean, girl?” he asked furrowing his eyebrows. This man was so damn sexy. I was at such a disadvantage there with him that evening.

“What I mean is that I just disclosed something about me and you’re telling me what
some dudes
do,” I scolded.

“So what are you saying?” he asked with a raised brow. His mouth twitched into an alluringly wick grin.

“What do
you
consider making love? No.
How
do
you
make love?” I laid it out. He paused and smiled timidly. He tried to take a long sip of his cognac buying time. I widened my eyes and motioned my head to urge him to answer.

“What? You really want me to answer that?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked, Jacobs!” I said giving him the ‘
don’t B.S. me
’ glare.

After another pause he said, “Alright
,” giving a hard and smooth exhale. The smell of brandy on his breath furthered my intoxication and suddenly my breasts felt extremely weighty and constrained in my bra.

He shrugged, uneasy about the prospect.

“When I make love…I take my time. I like to look…touch and explore. I try to take in the whole experience because making love for a man like me is extremely rare. A man makes love to a woman he cares about and wants to join in on the experience. When you’re doing it, you don’t rush…you take your time to satisfy all your senses…what you see. What you touch. What you feel. What you hear. I love the sounds of making love,” his voice teetered off reducing to a growl.

My sex was throbbing between my legs and I secretly feared that Azmir could feel it the way he could that night at Mahogany. “Well, what’s the difference between the sounds of making love and smashing?” I asked.

“There doesn’t have to be. But when making love, remember you’re taking your time and taking in all of the entire experience. And when you fucking—
I mean smashing
—you’re rushing to that nut.”

Things got silent for a minute and I gazed at him unabashed, admiring his handsome facial features. I tried to spark up another conversation by asking about sports. In the middle of
the joke I wanted to tell and out of the blue he leaned into me and covered his mouth with mine. This was a bold move after having just eaten garlic flavored food, but his tongue felt so cool and tasted so sweet. It moved slowly, sweeping every part of my mouth. My body immediately screamed for more. Before I knew it, I had grabbed the side of his face drawing him closer. The kiss lasted long but not long enough before he slowly withdrew his tongue and asked, “Ready for dessert?”

“Ummm, yeah!” I whispered while my head spun and heart raced.

Azmir rose from the sofa.
I thought at that moment he’d walk me back to that massive master suite and throw me in his king-sized bed. He actually headed toward the kitchen. I was pissed.
I want you to be my dessert!
He was in there for a few minutes before coming out with a piece of blueberry cheesecake on a saucer with a fork.

“Here you go. But before you have your desert I have something for you.”

He sat down, placed the cheesecake on the coffee table, and lifted up his shirt revealing a road of silky pubic hair sprouting over his bubbled abdominals leading south. The sight of it made me shiver as he pulled a box from his waist. It was rectangular and light blue wrapped in a white silk ribbon. I’d recognize that box almost anywhere. It was from Tiffany’s. I’d purchase a toggle chain and matching bracelet for Michelle’s last birthday as a gift from Erin and me. I didn’t know what to do or say when we handed me the box and sat next to me waiting for me to open it. I did and was left speechless when I saw the content. It was an 18-karat gold Atlas charm bracelet.

“Azmir, you really didn’t have to do this. I’m not sure if I can accept it
,” I breathed out gawking at the bracelet.

His eyes were filled with strong will and confidence. “You have to. I owe you for running out on you a few days ago. Plus, I can’t go back after having the store manager, herself, sit with me for almost an hour rummaging through jewelry until I found the perfect piece…a piece that represents us
,” he objected.

“…represents us?”

“Yes. Notice the various atlases on the charms. They represent time.”

“What time?”

“…the time it’s taking me to get that ass.”

My eyes shot up to him in disbelief.

I froze wearing a stoic expression. Azmir’s face was impassive as well before cracking a smile and assuring me, “Rayna, I’m kidding,” he snorted in whisper. I slapped him across his arm. I had to laugh at that one.

“No, really. The time we’ve been taking to get to know one another. Rayna, as I’ve said previously, I am a complicated man, one with many layers. I’ve noticed you haven’t tried to pull any of them back and expose what I’m not ready to reveal as of yet. I love women but hate dating. I feel like I’m getting too old for that shit.
Until you
.” His eyes intensely bounced between mine in search of my soul.

I simply sat and listened as he continued. “I haven’t been on the market for long. As a matter of fact, no one really knows that I’m on the market because I haven’t been putting myself out there. Partly because when women think I’m available
, they try to come with the games and all the bullshit that comes along with trying to shine and take advantage of me. But you’ve been different; although I’ve thrown a few lavish gifts your way you’ve never asked for or expected anything. You’ve been, more or less, riding like a soldier. Like I told you recently, that’s all I need right now,” he said oh so smoothly.

“But why…why do you gift me the way that you do? I’m just curious.” I was still wary about accepting it.

“Because you make it fun.” I wore a look of confusion.

“I can tell you’re not in it for this shit and I’ve always wanted a woman who I can…
woo
. You make me want to woo you, Rayna.” This was getting more personal.
Shit.
Woo me?
I was so not good at these types of moments.

“Thanks for the gift. Now when am I going to get my dessert?” My words were purposefully salacious as I eyed the cheesecake. He picked it up, delved into it with the fork
, and fed me a piece. It was delectable and I made no secret of it when I moaned. The familiar taste dawned on me.

“Where’d you get this from? It has a distinct taste.” My mind was running a mile a minute. Then it came to me. When O use
d to flip, during our trips to New York we’d travel over to
Junior’s
in Brooklyn for food and I always came home with a slice of cheesecake. “I hate to pry but where were you yesterday?”

He chuckled with bashful eyes and I immediately knew why when he answered, “Brooklyn.” Azmir had been thinking about me, preplanning this night. I could only be left to wonder if he was planning to take this affair to the next level.
Did I no longer have to ask for sex?

“I knew it!” I said excitedly.

I took a piece of the cake onto my index finger and put it to his mouth. His irresistible mouth that I’d come to anticipate all over me. He nibbled on it until the chunks were reduced to cream and with every swish of his tongue, those trustee currents zapped through my body. Before he could lick every morsel off my finger, I leaned towards him and helped. Instantaneously our tongues met and we were caught up in lechery again. This time, I thought to myself, no more interruptions.

I pulled away. With my heart pounding through my chest
, I fought through pride and fear. I had to be sure of what was coming. I wanted him and I needed to know if he wanted me, too. “Are you going to make me beg?”