(as always, unedited, subject to change. Coming in 2016. Happy Reading!)
Nubia In The Wild.
Real World: Nubia.
I hated every one of those.
I closed the folder in my hands and tossed it aside, picking up my cell phone from the table beside me. I unlocked the screen, and went into the text thread with my sister.
“Did you see the shitty names they’re proposing for this reality show?”
My leg was hooked over the arm of the chair I was in, and I stared down to my hot pink toenails as I waited for her to text back.
“They aren’t shitty. You just don’t want to do it. Stop making excuses. – Nefertiti.”
I sucked my teeth at her message, and positioned my fingers to type back that I wasn’t making excuses, but… that would have been a lie. I didn’t want to do a reality show. At least not one that was based around a day in my life. I liked to live on the edge, be spontaneous, get into things that were a little—
“Nubia, C’est quoi ce bordel?”
I lowered my phone from in front of my face, and gave Croix a little wave and a smile. Instead of smiling back, he scowled from his kneeling position on the floor in front of me, with his face between my legs.
“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” I asked, even though I damned well knew what was wrong. I tried to be subtle about sliding my phone back onto the table, but his gaze followed my hands.
“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas? I’m between your legs like a starving man while you play on your phone, comprendre?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. You can get up,” I said, lowering my leg from the arm of the chair. I kept Croix around for his dick, not his mouth. If that was what eating me like he was starving felt like, he must have been near death, too weak to make anything happen. One would think he’d be mad at himself for boring cunningulus, not moi.
I maneuvered around him to stand up, because he still hadn’t, and grabbed my phone as I moved from my living room into my kitchen. As I pulled a bottle from my wine fridge, an errant thought pushed to the forefront of my mind.
I bet Stephen is amazing with his mouth.
I let out a sigh as I poured myself a glass of red.
I really didn’t have to “bet” about what he could do. A month had passed since that trip to Argentina, and the feeling of his lips and tongue on my neck and in my mouth were still vivid memories. More than once since then, I’d touched myself while imagining it was him. I hadn’t seen or heard from him, but I’d certainly wondered, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
Wondered where he was, what he was doing, why he hadn’t continued his attempts to be in touch, what would have happened if he’d walked me to my room that night in Buenos Aires. I’d wanted him so bad that even now, it made me hot just to think about it, a whole damned month later.
Shaking my head, I lifted my glass. I savored the deep red liquid as it slipped down my throat, warming and soothing me for a brief moment until my refrigerator door slammed shut behind me.
I whipped around to find Croix standing there, his eyebrows pulled into a frown as he drank from a bottle of water.
“Is there a problem you’d like to address?” I asked, sipping from my wine in an attempt to calm my annoyance. I’d already ignored his little childish huffing and puffing while I was reminiscing about Steph. “You’re over there sounding like you’re about to give yourself a heart attack trying to stay calm.”
His tone was clipped, annoyed, and I rolled my eyes as I went to the sink to rinse out my glass. “Good, because—”
“Oui.” – I rolled my eyes a little harder – “Yes, actually. I do have a problem, Nubia. You are an incredible woman. Talented, fascinating, witty… gorgeous.”
I turned to him, and smiled. “Oui, oui, allez!”
He shook his head. “Pourtant… you are also… emotionless.” – my smile dropped – “Insensitive, and insolent. The camera sees you as sincere and alluring, like you are a welcoming soul. But the real you is a mash of complete contradictions, in the most infuriating way. Our arrangement is beginning to feel like punishment more than anything else.”
I sucked my teeth. “Oh please!” I sat my glass down on the counter and stalked over to him on bare feet. Even though my five feet and eleven inches were considered tall for a woman, I still had to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. “Don’t you dare stand there and tell me that fucking me is a punishment. I turned your little young ass out, gave you the best pussy you’ve ever had, and probably the best you’ll ever get. I guess I bring out the sadist in you, Croix, cause you’ve begged for me, more times than I have fingers to count on. Punishment, my ass.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I am a sadist, chérie. Because while it is true that the sex is beyond magnifique… you make it very clear that it is your only use for me. Which is perfectly fine, but merde. You could at least pretend. Have enough respect to not be on your cellular while we are in the middle of the act.”
Unbidden, tears sprang to my eyes, and I blinked hard to fight them off. “If our understanding is no longer enjoyable for you, you’ll get no opposition from me on bringing it an end.”
Croix scoffed. “This is exactly what I mean. Instead of discussing it, your first suggestion is ending things.”
“Because there’s nothing to talk about! This emotional shit is not part of what we’re doing. I thought that was understood.”
His shoulders sank. “It was.”
“And haven’t you been gallivanting around with half the roster from the last Victoria’s Secret show? I don’t understand what you want from me.”
“I…” He lifted a hand to his head, scratching before he angled his body away from me, enough that I could see his adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. “Nothing, Nubia. Nevermind.”
There was a short moment of awkward silence between us, and I tightened my short robe around my waist. “Please lock the door behind you on your way out.”
Croix shook his head, then snatched his keys from my countertop before he stalked out, probably in search of his clothes. “Fine.”
While he gathered his things, I picked up my glass again, and pulled the cork back out of my wine to pour another glass. I didn’t actually take a sip until Croix was out of my apartment, and even though I’d told him to lock it, I was right behind him drawing the deadbolt.