“And you like that?” Jo said, arching into his hold.
“Of course,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. Jo’s sigh washed over his face, cool and minty, and then her hands were scrambling for his drawstrings, loosening them, drawing him out. He groaned into her mouth as she encircled him, stroking him firmly from base to tip, her grip sure like she’d been doing it forever.
“What do you want?” He breathed into the shell of her ear. “My fingers? My mouth? Want me to eat you?” He grazed his teeth against her lobe. “Want me to fuck you?”
Jo shivered—she liked when he talked, he’d realized, the filthier the better—then, without preamble, lifted her hips up and lowered herself onto him. Mal gasped against the sudden, unexpected heat, but she didn’t give him a moment to adjust, pushing him back onto the bed with a gentle hand on his chest. The smile she gave him was beatific, made more so by the halo of light formed behind her by the ceiling fan lights.
Goddamn.It was hard to believe that this was what he was coming home to these days—a gorgeous girl with a heart of gold and the libido of a teenage boy, who fucked him like she had something to prove. Jo dragged his T-shirt up to his clavicle, leaning forward on her knees to kiss her way up his neck, and he bitdown hard on his lip as pleasure spiked through him. There was something about seeing her undulating above him that got him going a little too quick, the visual stimuli of heaving breasts and thighs and her gasping, euphoric expression too overwhelming when paired with the exquisite clench of her around him. He reached for her, hooking his thumb into her mouth, and she gave him a coy smile before sucking it deeper.
Fuck.At this rate, he wasn’t going to last another minute.
“Slow down,” he begged. He grasped at her hip, gripping it beseechingly, and she interlaced her fingers in his. “Jo, please, I’m going to come.”
Jo grinned down at him with all of her teeth, but she didn’t let up. Instead, she leaned back on her haunches, plunging herself onto him relentlessly, and he realized, too late, that he’d been ambushed.
“Then come,” she said sweetly.
She might as well have snapped her fingers. One second, he was gritting his teeth, rubbing circles around her clit to catch her up, and the next he was lost to sensation, his vision blurring before turning white, his whole body tightening as he emptied into her, over and over again until he had nothing left.
They lay there, panting, for several minutes, Jo’s shoulders sloped backward, her face tilted up toward the ceiling. Eventually, she tucked her head down to give him a small, indulgent smile, as if she hadn’t just ravaged him.
“I’m not saying sleeping with you is fixing my depression,” she said, dismounting. “But I feel really good right now. It’s the endorphins, I think.”
Mal tucked her under his arm, tugging his shirt back down and his pants up.
“Glad to be of service,” he said, pressing a kiss to her neck. She nestled into his side, leaning into his embrace.
“I had an epiphany,” she said suddenly.
“Sleeping with me give you that too?” Mal said. “Damn. I’m more powerful than I thought.”
Jo shoved his chest playfully.
“My mother’s boyfriend emailed me yesterday,” she explained. “He found my account. He and my mom have been watching my videos. He said...” She bit her lip, suddenly shy. “That the ones on heart disease especially have been really helpful. And I guess, I don’t know, it made me not want to give up.”
“Oh.” Mal held her closer, feeling a conflicting clash of emotions. On one hand, after all Jo had told him about her childhood, it was hard for him to feel any sort of positive feelings toward her mother. On the other, he was relieved that she finally seemed to sound optimistic about her future. “That’s good.”
“And...” Jo said. “Denise sent me an email. From Lana Porter.”
If Jo hadn’t been weighing down his arm, Mal would have sat up in surprise.
“Lana reached out to you?” he said apprehensively. “Why?”
Jo shrugged, then reached for her laptop on her nightstand. She opened her email, scrolled, and handed it to him.
The email was a forwarded thread, and he scrolled further to read the messages chronologically. The first message came from Lana’s assistant, a simple request for a virtual meeting. Denise responded with a not-quite rejection, explaining that her client was not taking meetings at the moment, but asking her to circle back in a few weeks. (“It must have killed her to say that,” Jo said, snickering, at his side.)
Then came a message from what appeared to be Lana Porter herself.Please pass this on to Dr.Boateng,it started.
It isn’t often that I feel compelled to reach out to talent directly. But it is obvious that your client, Dr.Boateng, is something special. People who desire the spotlight do all they can to remain in it. But no matter how she may want to avoid it, the spotlight is trained on Josephine. She has a compelling image, a fascinating backstory, and what appears to be a healthy dose of ambition. She is magnetic in a way that simply can’t be taught.
I make it a point to identify and uplift talented Black women and would very much like to discuss having her on my show as a physician correspondent, with the hope that she could eventually remain on as a regular contributor. Please let my team know if this is something she would be interested in.
Best,
Lana
Multiple things ran through Mal’s mind: First, that by mentioning her in his segment, he might have actually done something good. Second, that Lana had recognized Jo’s inherent magnetism on sight. And finally, that Jo seemed to be sharing this email with him because she was considering saying yes.
