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“Marry me, fucking be mine forever.”
“You want me...ugh baby! You want me?” Her eyes stay focused on mine while mine never waver. Not sure where I’m finding the courage to say all these things, but they flow from me like running water.
“Yes, be my Queen, forever.” Without a second longer, or a moment to blink and hesitate, she answers.
“Yes! Baby.” Just like that I bang on my chest, scream from the rooftops, play the steel drums. Checkmate, the Queen took her King. I come. Fast and hard, dropping every last bit of come I can into her, so much so that it comes seeping out while I still pound into her, ready for her to come again.
“Baby! I’m coming, oh I’m coming again! Fuck!” she screams, one hand staying on her supple breast, kneading and pulling, while her other hand finds her hair and grips it.
“Oh yeah, just like that.” I take control of her hips and thrust into her with the roll of mine, while I circle hers, helping her ride out her orgasm.
We’re breathless for a few minutes before I pull out and head to the bathroom in my office, grabbing a cloth to clean up my woman. Coming back out she’s sated and teetering on the edge of consciousness.
She starts to fall asleep while I clean her up, crying a bit when I hit her sensitive center. I’m a large man and she’s tight. When we mate, not just fuck, but truly mate and make love, she gets sore.
“Let’s get you dressed baby, you can sleep in the car.”
Just like that she nods and with my help I get her dressed and practically carry her to the car. Falling asleep there, I know she’s done for. She’ll sleep for hours tonight.
The next morning I’m dragging my ass out of bed, Lana still asleep as I prep for my five a.m. workout. I kiss her sweet lips then her growing belly. I’m still a little shell-shocked that she agreed to marry me so hastily without any reservations. If she doesn’t want to have a big extravagant wedding, I would elope with her, today, tomorrow—right away.
I feel like I have a ton of shit to put in order before that happens. I need to find us a place to live because we’re wasting money on two different apartments. That and having a baby means we’re going to need to move in together anyway.
“Bye, baby love,” whispering goodbye to her, I leave her to sleep. Opening the front door I hear a crunch and look down. Under my foot is a manila envelope. My heart rate spikes—not again, two days in a row? Hoping that I’m wrong, I bend with great hesitation, as if my body is working against me, giving me a warning to not pick this shit up.
Opening the folder, my shaky hands reach in and grip onto the glossy finished paper. Pulling it out, my eyes glaze over, turning black when they land on the first picture. That familiar sensation of rage snaking up my spine overcomes me.
In my hands there are more fucking pictures, these ones far worse than the ones before. Lana beaten and naked, lying there broken—my woman.
“Fuck.” I have to stop myself from sifting through all of them. I search the hall again, knowing I will come up empty-handed. I don’t want to leave Lana now, I want to lock this fucking door, board it up, and hibernate.
Double checking the door three more times, I finally convince myself that it’s locked and I can leave. I take the elevator, each floor passing slowly, adding what feels like another decade on my life. I’ve zoned out, my mind checked out, while my body stays on autopilot.
When I’m finally in my car, I snap.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I slam my fist on the steering wheel, tears falling down my face, spit flying with my words. I have to face Joel after years away convinced he had moved on. Living in a naive bubble, where I thought this was over.
Maybe if I threaten him enough he will leave her alone? Yeah right, it did jack shit obviously when I beat him to an inch of his life before the police tore me away. What are my threats gonna do?
I pull up to the gym, not quite sure how I got there. I see Trey’s truck parked under the tree. Looking over beside me, I stare at the envelope for a few long hard seconds, before grabbing my bag roughly and heading inside.
There are barely five people here, making it easy for me to spot Trey already hitting the treadmill. I walk up to him and stand in front of his machine. In the zone, he finally sees me, pulling out his earphone.
“Hey dude, you’re late, wow, what’s up?”
“I need to talk to you—now.” Slowing down the machine, he grabs his shit and jumps off before it comes to a complete stop, rushing to catch up with me.
“Dude, what the fuck is going on?” he asks, both of us ignoring the other gym goers passing us giving us sideways glances. I don’t answer, then once inside the locker room, I throw my bag against the lockers, the loud thud and vibration making Trey jump back a bit. I feel my back heating up, my face and neck hot, my breathing picking up, I feel like a man transitioning into a beast.
“He’s back, he came back, Trey.” Shaking his head, he places his hands on his hips, trying to catch on, still slightly out of breath.
“Who’s back, Kingston? I’m lost.”
“Joel! He’s sending Lana shit, he has someone sending her shit!”
“You’re joking, right? This has to be a joke.” As much as I wish it was a cruel sick joke, it’s not.
“No, it’s not. Damn it, Trey what the fuck do I do?” I drop down on the bench defeated. My hands finding my hair, gripping it tight.
