Transference of Energy

4| Sullivan

It’s been a week since I walked out on a sleeping Aseem. When I finally got home, showered, and looked at myself in the mirror, my neck, collarbone, chest, and thighs covered in purple hickies made me smile. But it also made me realize the power Aseem had over me. Never have I ever allowed a man to brand me so boldly, but with him, I didn’t mind the memories of our night being plastered all over my body.

After creeping out of the bed we shared, he’s been on my mind more than ever. So much so I’ve talked myself out of asking Mimi for his info constantly. I didn’t want her in my business, although I know she set us up.

The memory of how Aseem whispered in my ear and nibbled on my neck, while slowly stroking me fluttered through my mind, causing my pussy to contract and me to squeeze my thighs together. I’ve been masturbating to random memories of the way he took me for the past few days.

When I bumped into a display while aimlessly walking around The Toolbox, CG’s home improvement store, I focused on the present. I didn’t need anything else after picking up the things on my list for a job I had tomorrow.

I started Floral Oasis on a whim after Thea not only encouraged me, but bought me a mini greenhouse, and had it set up in my father’s backyard as a birthday gift three years ago. I’ve always loved gardening, thanks to my grandparents and Mimi.

PawPaw was known for his landscaping and how he kept up our massive yard. Mimi planted most, if not all, of the flowers and small trees that surrounded Club Eros. I’ve learned a thing or two from them since I was a child and decided I would turn it into a business.

In the past three years, I’ve outgrown that space, and now I use it just to start the seeding process. All my plants and flowers are now housed in the community gardening space, but I was looking into finding somewhere private to do everything.

After wandering around for thirty more minutes, I checked out and loaded everything into my white Toyota Sequoia. On my way to my greenhouse, I decided to stop and pick up some lunch from Tha Shack. I needed to eat before I started working, or I would forget and be lightheaded. And with the way the heat in CG was set up, I’d pass out.

While sitting at a red light, I ordered my food through Tha Shack’s app so I wouldn’t be waiting all day. The confirmation page told me my order would be ready in twenty-five minutes, which was how long it would take me to get there with the way traffic was set up.

When I walked into Tha Shack, I checked the rack where they place pick-up orders, and it was empty.

“Hey, I’m here to pick up an order for S. Jordan.”

“Give us like ten more minutes on your order,” the girl behind the counter said.

I nodded and took a seat at one of the tables. I busied myself checking emails for my business and personal social media pages. As I scrolled my personal Instagram feed, I caught a whiff of patchouli and sandalwood.

Aseem.

When I looked up, he was leaning against the wall near the door, staring at me. He was pissed, and rightfully so. I did leave after telling him we could talk in the morning.

His mahogany skin seemed to be shining, and his lips were just as I remembered them -- soft. His locs hung freely. He was dressed in business attire: a powder blue dress shirt, light gray slacks, and black hard bottoms.

He walked off toward the bathroom, and I waited all of five seconds before following him. “Aseem?”

“What, Sullivan?” he asked with his back to me.

“Can you look at me?”

“Why should I? I already know what you look like, and I don’t need any more memories of you floating around in my head. You let me know what it was and, more importantly, what it ain’t between us. I’m good.”

“Aseem,” I said, walking around him to stand between him and the bathroom door, “that’s not fair. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Okay, so why you pressin’ me now? You dipped. I got the message.”

There was hurt in his russet-brown eyes.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s cool, Sullivan.”

The sting of the way he said my name pierced my stomach like a knife to the gut.

I did the only thing I could think of at the moment: I kissed him. I pecked his soft ass lips at first, then went in for the kill by wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer to me while I made love to his mouth.

He was hesitant at first. He didn’t kiss me back until I sucked on his bottom lip and snaked my tongue into his mouth. He groaned at the same time his hands went to my ass, then the back of my thighs, lifting me off my feet. On instinct, I wrapped my legs around his waist. I heard the bathroom door open and close behind us then the locks clicked into place.

He sat me back down on my feet. “Take that shit off.”

His demand was so husky, and the baritone of his voice made my clit throb.

Slowly, I stepped out of my yellow Crocs, then stripped out of my light wash and distressed overalls. After shimmying out of my compression shorts I always wore underneath, I looked over at him, and his gray slacks were undone and pushed down his thighs, leaving his massive ass dick on display.

He’d already put on a condom. I felt some kind of way he kept condoms on him, but I guess I couldn’t because this is what I wanted from him, right?

“Bend over the counter,” he instructed, moving toward me.

I followed his demand yet again and waited for him to fill me. Without much of a warning or taking his time, Aseem slammed into me hard. I yelped and shot up from my position.

“Take this dick, Sullivan.”

I moaned and returned to my previous position while Aseem continued to pound into me from behind. His massive ass hands gripped my waist tight as he repeatedly slammed into me.

“Mmm… shit…”

“Be quiet,” he said gruffly.

He knew good and damn well I couldn’t be quiet. He also knew exactly what he was doing by fucking me the way he was. He wanted to punish me for leaving after agreeing we could figure shit out in the morning.

When another moan escaped my mouth, Aseem pulled my locs until the arch in my back deepened, and I was lifting off the counter the same way he had in the bathroom after our shower. One of his hands wrapped around my mouth, and my eyes rolled back into my head; I was going to cum.

“Give it to me, Amor.”

I whimpered and reached back to grip his right thigh to ease some of the harshness of his stroke. He knocked my hand out of the way and kept drilling me deeply.

“You heard what I said, Sullivan. Cum on this dick.”

“Mmm…” I released a muffled moan.

“I said be quiet,” he whispered in my ear as he slammed into me harder.

Between the way he was fucking me and the pain from how he was gripping my locs, I was going to cum hard.

“Stop being stubborn, Sullivan. Cum on this dick,” he urged, tightening his grip on my hair even more and using his free hand to massage my breast.

Warmth began coursing through my body as my pussy contracted around him then I was milking him for everything he had while surfing on a wave of bliss.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

A few short moments later, he was pulling out of me, flushing the condom, and redressing himself while I lay against the counter. I’m glad that they keep the bathroom clean here.

By the time I caught my bearings and slid back into my compression shorts, Aseem was completely dressed and washing his hands. After checking his appearance, he looked at me in the mirror. His eyes told me he was still pissed at me, and sex hadn’t changed that.

Before I could find the right words to say, he was walking toward the door.

“Take care, Sullivan,” he said after unlocking the door and walking out.

I scrambled to put on my overalls and Crocs. By the time I was done and rushed back into the dining room, Aseem was gone.

To say I was pissed was an understatement. What? You thought giving him the cat was gonna make him forget you lied to him? The angel that’s usually on my side was throwing shade trees today.

After calming down a smidge, I went to check on my food.

“Order for S. Jordan.”

“Your boyfriend just picked it up,” the girl said.

“Boyyfrrriiieeennddd?”

“So the guy in the powder blue dress shirt and gray slacks with the short locs ain’t your boyfriend?” she asked quizzically.

“No, he’s not.”

“Fuck, my uncle’s gonna kill me.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yea.”

I walked out of Tha Shack. I wasn’t hungry anymore anyway. Not after the way Aseem dismissed me. My pride and feelings were hurt, so I was going home to lick my wounds for a bit. Now I see how Shanté Smith, Vivica A. Fox’s character in Two Can Play That Game, felt when Keith Fenton’s character, played by Morris Chestnut, popped up on her at her house after she got him hard and left.

Afterward, though, I’d get back on my bullshit.