Keisha Beale. Keisha, Nathan.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Nathan.” I gush like a fan, and he grins. Then I turn and rail on Tristan. “What was so damned important it couldn’t wait until morning? You woke me and my roommate up, and our nosy neighbor. What is wrong with you?”
“You were right, Tristan, she does sound like a Domme,” Nathan says.
Tristan looks at me, his eyes hooded. “Tell me about it.”
“I asked you a question, Mister.” I say, sounding just like my mother.
His eyes become a tad more alert. “I got your voice mail,” he says simply.
My mouth falls open, and I don’t have time to respond because, at that moment, Jada re-enters the room, hair-combed, teeth undoubtedly brushed, and wearing mascara, and lip gloss. I blink wide-eyed at her. She breezes in as if we’re receiving guests in the early evening.
“So, you’re the infamous Tristan White,” she says and offers her hand to him to shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jameson,” he says. “From the business plan you drafted, I can tell you’re every bit of the shrewd business person I know your father to be.
She waves him off. “Daddy might have said something similar about you. Oh, and call me Jada. We’re going to be business partners after all.”
“I certainly hope so,” Tristan says and glances at me before he turns to introduce his brother. “Jada, this is my brother, Nathan.”
Nathan stares at Jada with his mouth open, as though he recognizes her, wants to jump her bones, or something.
Jada moves to Nathan with two hands out and clasp his. “This guy needs no introduction. We see you in our living room almost every week during basketball season.”
Nathan absently shakes her hand, squinting. “Have we met?”
Jada is adamant. “I don’t think we have.” Then she waffles, “Well not formally, anyway. We may have attended some event at the same time, but then we were both in the presence of other companions, I’m sure.”
What the hell? I thought she said she was “dying” to meet him. Looks like they’ve already met.
I don’t have time to think about that. Tristan grabs my hand. “Jada, Nathan, play nice. I have something I need to square away with Keisha.” I follow, half-running to keep up with his long strides. He looks from one door to the other in our tiny hallway. “Which room is yours?”
I point right, not sure my voice will work. He hauls me into my own bedroom and shuts the door, pinning me against it. He kisses me in all my morning-breathed glory. I try to avoid giving him access to my tongue, but his is stronger. Knowing that resistance is futile, I relax and let him sanitize my saliva until I taste only what he tastes like. I think it’s Scotch, but I can’t be sure.
When he decides to come up for air, he releases me abruptly, and I’m a limp noodle against the door.
“How can you say no to this kind of passion?” He asks.
I think I whimper, because my thoughts are so fucking garbled at the moment.
His hands go to his knees, but he forces himself to stand upright again. “What are you afraid of? Do you need to do a trial run?”
“I just don’t like the idea of being involved with you when we’re doing business together. I’m going to apologize to Princess Danai and see if she’ll take our project on.”
“I wouldn’t approach her right now if I were you,” he says. “I had to talk her out of pressing charges, and filing a lawsuit against you.”
I cringe. What did I expect? Her eye is probably still some variation of black and purple right now.
“Oh.” That’s all I can muster, faced with my current reality.
“If you’re going to open in a little over three weeks, I’m the only shot you have of doing that,” he says.
“What happens if this,” I gesture between us, “doesn’t work out for us? I need assurances that Kente doesn’t become one of your acquisitions if this doesn’t work.”
“Have you read the
“It’s so nice to meet you, Nathan.” I gush like a fan, and he grins. Then I turn and rail on Tristan. “What was so damned important it couldn’t wait until morning? You woke me and my roommate up, and our nosy neighbor. What is wrong with you?”
“You were right, Tristan, she does sound like a Domme,” Nathan says.
Tristan looks at me, his eyes hooded. “Tell me about it.”
“I asked you a question, Mister.” I say, sounding just like my mother.
His eyes become a tad more alert. “I got your voice mail,” he says simply.
My mouth falls open, and I don’t have time to respond because, at that moment, Jada re-enters the room, hair-combed, teeth undoubtedly brushed, and wearing mascara, and lip gloss. I blink wide-eyed at her. She breezes in as if we’re receiving guests in the early evening.
“So, you’re the infamous Tristan White,” she says and offers her hand to him to shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jameson,” he says. “From the business plan you drafted, I can tell you’re every bit of the shrewd business person I know your father to be.
She waves him off. “Daddy might have said something similar about you. Oh, and call me Jada. We’re going to be business partners after all.”
“I certainly hope so,” Tristan says and glances at me before he turns to introduce his brother. “Jada, this is my brother, Nathan.”
Nathan stares at Jada with his mouth open, as though he recognizes her, wants to jump her bones, or something.
Jada moves to Nathan with two hands out and clasp his. “This guy needs no introduction. We see you in our living room almost every week during basketball season.”
Nathan absently shakes her hand, squinting. “Have we met?”
Jada is adamant. “I don’t think we have.” Then she waffles, “Well not formally, anyway. We may have attended some event at the same time, but then we were both in the presence of other companions, I’m sure.”
What the hell? I thought she said she was “dying” to meet him. Looks like they’ve already met.
I don’t have time to think about that. Tristan grabs my hand. “Jada, Nathan, play nice. I have something I need to square away with Keisha.” I follow, half-running to keep up with his long strides. He looks from one door to the other in our tiny hallway. “Which room is yours?”
I point right, not sure my voice will work. He hauls me into my own bedroom and shuts the door, pinning me against it. He kisses me in all my morning-breathed glory. I try to avoid giving him access to my tongue, but his is stronger. Knowing that resistance is futile, I relax and let him sanitize my saliva until I taste only what he tastes like. I think it’s Scotch, but I can’t be sure.
When he decides to come up for air, he releases me abruptly, and I’m a limp noodle against the door.
“How can you say no to this kind of passion?” He asks.
I think I whimper, because my thoughts are so fucking garbled at the moment.
His hands go to his knees, but he forces himself to stand upright again. “What are you afraid of? Do you need to do a trial run?”
“I just don’t like the idea of being involved with you when we’re doing business together. I’m going to apologize to Princess Danai and see if she’ll take our project on.”
“I wouldn’t approach her right now if I were you,” he says. “I had to talk her out of pressing charges, and filing a lawsuit against you.”
I cringe. What did I expect? Her eye is probably still some variation of black and purple right now.
“Oh.” That’s all I can muster, faced with my current reality.
“If you’re going to open in a little over three weeks, I’m the only shot you have of doing that,” he says.
“What happens if this,” I gesture between us, “doesn’t work out for us? I need assurances that Kente doesn’t become one of your acquisitions if this doesn’t work.”
“Have you read the
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