ARMAND
“Y’all got to be cheating! Ain’t no way y’all keep beating me like this if you’re playing fair!” I said, shaking my head.
Layla stood from the floor with her hands on her hips, giving me the duck mouth. “We ain’t cheating! We’re just better than you! You need to accept it.” This girl was too much.
“Uh-huh. You might beat us one day, but I don’t think so. We’re really good at this because our dad is Leland McClain,” Lil’ Leland chimed in.
“Oh, is that right? Y’all agree with them?” I asked the twins, who each occupied one of my thighs. One was playing with my chain. The other was staring at my hair. I couldn’t tell them apart. I didn’t even try to.
In response, one smiled at me. The other said, “Red!” Evidently, they were learning their colors. I think they were like two? Who knows?
“All right, y’all. Stop harassing Armand. Go wash your hands. It’s time for lunch,” our mom said, and the room quickly cleared out.
I chuckled. “They be ready to eat, huh?”
“Yep, just like their big brother.”
That didn’t seem weird to me anymore, the fact that I was their brother, so I said, “Yeah. Hey, Ma?”
She leaned against the doorframe. “Yes?”
“I’m…I’m sorry for how I acted after you and Leland got together. I’m sorry for hurting you then or ever. I’m just…sorry. I really am.”
She smiled, although I could see the tears in her eyes from across the room. “And you’re forgiven. Always.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment before she offered, “You wanna have lunch with us?”
I shook my head. “Nah, I’m gonna go see Granny. Haven’t visited her in a while. She called me this morning asking me to come over.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’m sure she’ll be calling me to brag about seeing you. Hey, I love you, Boogie.”
“I love you, too, Ma.”
ELLA
While Armand spent the day visiting his family, I spent the day hashing out the details of a deal with the Glam On It cosmetics company. It was for an ad campaign I would post to my IG account. Evidently, all the hate I was getting for “betraying” Jackson had shot my engagement through the roof and gained me more than ten-thousand new followers. Business was business, and according to them, popularity was popularity, even if it was infamy. I liked the idea of being an influencer. I believed it would foster the precious privacy I was clinging to.
I was sitting at the kitchen table jotting down ideas for posts when he made it home. I heard him enter and close the front door, but he didn’t call my name as he usually would, and he didn’t come into the kitchen. Frowning, I headed into the foyer to find him standing with his forehead against the front door.
“Armand?” I said, unsure if I should approach him. I’d never seen him like this.
Nothing from Armand.
“Baby?”
Still nothing.
I’d taken a step toward him when he finally turned around, frantically undressing and dropping to his knees. Then he sat up and dropped his head while stretching his arms toward me, wrists touching. “I been driving around for hours. I…please,” he said, voice shaky, pleading.
I rushed toward him, dropping to the floor in front of him. “Armand, what’s going on?”
“I…I need you. I need you to do what you do. I need to feel the pain and then I need to feel the comfort. Please, sir. Help me.”
Lifting his chin, I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but agony, deep, raw hurt. I wanted to know who or what had hurt him, to avenge him. Most of all, I wanted to ease his pain.
Kissing him, I said, “Okay, baby. Okay.”
ARMAND
I was facing the front door, my hands braced against it, my legs spread apart, my eyes tightly shut. My thoughts were noisy, cluttered, and disorganized as the threat of a blackout loomed over me like a cloud heavily burdened with potential precipitation. As I waited for her, anticipation commingling with thick anger, I tried to shut the thoughts down even as the palms of my hands curled into fists, even as my desire to destroy something, anything, clung to every cell in my body. I wasn’t sure if I would make it. I didn’t think I could fight it off much longer, so I found myself croaking, “Sir…”
The word had barely left my mouth when the leather tails of the flogger collided with the middle of my back, the sudden impact making me jump a little. It didn’t hurt, or at least not yet. Ella always started with soft blows that increased in intensity. She had this sixth sense for knowing how many times to strike the same spot before moving to another. A second soft thwack landed. Then another…and another. I flattened my palms against the door again, bracing myself for more intensity and she didn’t fail me. The blows came harder and faster to that spot.
Harder and faster.
Harder and faster…until I felt a warmth spread over me as the pain began to dull my senses and quiet my thoughts. The leather hit my back a couple inches to the left now. She didn’t utter a word and neither did I, but I suppose no words were needed.
This went on, this impact play, until my knees were weak, my legs were trembling, and I barely remembered my own damn name.
Then I felt it, the beautiful feeling of her soft lips against my skin as she kissed my back, soothing my pain while at the same time healing my soul. She kissed and caressed, droplets of moisture soon joining her lips on my skin—tears.
“Ella,” I whimpered. “Sir…”
“I love you. I love you, Armand. I love you so much,” she cried. “Turn around, baby.”
I spun on weak legs and yelped when she pushed me against the door and kissed me hard. Then she dropped to a squat, taking me in her mouth. The back of my head hit the door and my hands clutched the back of her head as I groaned, “Ella…Ella…Ella. I love you, too. I love you, too…”
She sucked wildly, head bobbing, suction immaculate as she unraveled me with her mouth. I moaned and cried real tears as my back vacated the door. I began to rock in and out of her mouth, soon advancing from a relaxed pace to a full-on frenzy as I grunted and groaned through clenched teeth.
After I finally erupted, I crumpled to the floor and wailed as she held me in her arms.