Aria walked through the door of Isa’s house carrying two heavy suitcases, one in each hand. His eyes lifted from the blunt, and he kicked back on the leather couch as they stared at each other. He pulled the smoke into his mouth, then lifted one foot to the coffee table and blew the smoke up into the air.
“Fuck you doing here?” he asked. “Walking your lil’ ugly ass up in here like this yo’ crib. You lucky I ain’t blow your head off.”
She set down her bags. “Shut up and come here, boy.”
Isa wasn’t quick to move. Despite the fact that his heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears. He had never been happier to see someone in his life. He hated that Aria had the power to ruin or revive his day with just her presence. He turned his gaze to the big screen on his wall.
Fucking stubborn-ass man, she thought.
“Oh, so you’re in your feelings? You’re just going to ignore me?” she asked. She nodded. “Okay.”
She stepped high-heeled feet over his legs.
“Move, man!” Isa fussed as he pushed her out of the way so he could see the basketball game playing.
Aria waltzed right over to the television and picked up the baseball bat he kept hanging on the wall. An autographed A-Rod bat from a World Series game. His pride and joy. One of many because Isa was a sports junkie.
“Fuck you doing, yo?” he asked, irritation playing in his tone. “That shit signed as fuck. Shit ain’t no toy.”
“Oh, it’s signed?” she mocked. “You care about this bat, huh? You were just being a big-ass baby and ignoring me seconds ago. Now you can speak?”
“Man gone with that shit,” Isa grumbled, scratching the top of his head as he lifted the blunt to his lips. “Ain’t you supposed to be with your people? You can’t fuck with me. You said that. I’m over it. Take ya’ ass back to ya’ folk and get from in front of the TV. A nigga got ten bands on this game.”
Aria swung the bat, cracking the TV screen, then tossed the bat at him as he stood from the couch.
“You done lost your fucking mind!” he barked.
“Next time, you better act like you see me when I walk in this bitch!” she shouted.
She started to walk away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her into him roughly. Aria slapped him, and Isa wrapped her. His one hand was large enough to capture both of hers.
“Go home to your people before I knock your head off,” Isa said.
“I fucking dare you.” Tears built in her eyes, and he frowned. “I chose you, you asshole. Over my brother. I picked you.” She broke down, and Isa loosened his hold, placing a hand to the back of her head. “He thinks you’re bad for me, but you’re so good to me. He cut me off, Isa. I’ve never fought with my brother ever. He’s all I have.”
Weakness wasn’t Aria. She didn’t allow herself to feel it often, but this one hurt. This one hit differently.
“Aye.” He pulled her attention, but she could barely see him through her tears. “He ain’t all you got.”
He bent down and hoisted her up, opening her thighs until she wrapped them around his waist. Aria held on to his neck and rested her face over his shoulder as he took wide steps toward the bedroom. “You got me ’til they drop me, Ali.”
She cried on his shoulder, and he consoled her as if she were a baby, and she was. She was his baby. The first woman he had ever cared for.
“You picked a nigga, Ali? Over your blood?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. She was in his lap, still straddling him. She nodded, and his thumb cleared the wetness from her face.
“I picked you,” she confirmed while sniffing. She was sad about that, about the rift between her and Nahvid. He was her family, and he meant everything to her. She prayed one day he would accept her choices because she was sure they wouldn’t change. Her love for Isa wasn’t going anywhere, and she hoped to earn Nahvid’s respect again. She didn’t know how, but she and Isa would prove him wrong. She would make sure of it.
He kissed her aggressively as he gripped the back of her neck.
“Is this going to last, Isa?” she asked.
“As long as you’ll put up with me, Ali.”
She placed her hands on the sides of his face and looked into his eyes. “I hate you.” She closed her eyes because this wasn’t her. This vulnerability. It was uncontrollable.
“Nah. Not tonight. I love you, Ali. Like on some real shit. I’ll chop some shit up over you. Die behind you. I need you to know you ain’t waste your pick. You gon’ be my wife, and I’ma put babies in here.” He touched her stomach. “And we gon’ live, Ali. We gon’ ball the fuck out, and you ain’t gon’ never want for nothing. I’ma take care of you cuz you mine. So wipe your eyes, a’ight?”
She nodded.
“Broke my motherfucking TV. I’ma break yo’ little ass,” he snickered.
Aria reached down and gripped the bottom of her shirt, then lifted it over her head.
“Break me, baby,” Aria whispered. She bit her bottom lip as Isa buried his face between her breasts, planting a kiss to her left one as he palmed it before moving to her right. His tattooed hands rubbed upward until his fingers were wrapped around her neck. The valley of her throat tensed, deepened as she held her breath. She expected him to tighten his hold. He liked to choke women, and to her surprise, he went behind her neck and untied the knot of the head scarf that was tied on her head. Her lids fluttered as he removed it and lowered his head to kiss one breast, then her areola, enticing it, until it was taut between his teeth. Then he bit her. She gasped as it throbbed. His teeth pulled just hard enough, and Aria’s thighs opened wider in his lap.
“Who am I, Ali?” he asked.
“You the king, baby,” she whispered. He wrapped the scarf around her wrists. Bondage. If he was the king, she was his captive, enslaved to this shit, and Aria didn’t want to be freed.
“Nah, Ali. A nigga ain’t never wanted to be king. I kill the kings. I chop niggas’ heads off, baby. Ya’ nigga a goon.”
“The Kingslayer,” Aria whispered. He snickered at her Game of Thrones reference.
“Queenslayer too,” he said, palming a handful of her behind so roughly that it hurt. “Lay down, Ali, and say a nigga name before I make you scream it.”
“The god, baby. Isa the god,” she moaned.
Aria stood, and Isa unbuttoned her jeans, rolling them over her ass and then down her legs as she stepped out of them. Her hands hung, uselessly bound in front of her. He leaned into her stomach, biting it, with more pressure, enough to leave teeth marks.
“Isa…”
Isa stood and wrapped a hand around her throat, stopping further protests, further everything, because Aria couldn’t breathe. “We ain’t talking, Ali. We ’bout to do something else,” he said.
He circled her body, slowly, biting her shoulder, the back of her neck, and then running his tongue down the dip of her toned back. Aria’s body was incredible. A true dancer, every part was defined. The only part of her that had weight to it was the ass that stopped her from being a ballerina, but she got it from her mama, so unfortunately, it was there to stay. Isa ran his tongue all the way down to the crack of her ass and then lifted one of her thighs.
He slapped her ass. The sting it caused felt like punishment. The chill of his saliva as he licked the injury before blowing on it made goose bumps prickle her skin.
“Lay down,” he instructed. Aria climbed on the bed. With her wrists tied, she put her weight on her elbows and knees, but Isa snatched one ankle, leveling her. Aria put her hands above her head and clasped them together. She didn’t know what to expect, and she wanted to hold on to something, but with her wrists tied, all she could do was cling to herself.
The anticipation was the worst part. The kink he was into sometimes took her breath away, but Aria was a control freak; the not knowing of it all scared her. He had never done anything to her that hadn’t brought her to a screaming orgasm. It had never hurt beyond her limitations, but Aria feared the day he wanted to take it up a notch. Her body tensed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, and then …
“Isa!”
He hated the yelling. The protesting. The smack to her ass told her so.
Aria bit her lip.
Hot. Wet. Burning. She whimpered as the skin on her ass smoldered for a few seconds.
Then his tongue, extinguishing the feeling.
“It’s wax, Ali. It’s edible,” he groaned as his teeth peeled back the hardening chocolate flavor. “Let me eat in peace, baby.”
Aria gasped when he poured more, this time down the crack of her ass.
It burned, but oddly, her pussy throbbed.
Aria didn’t scream this time, and Isa ate every piece of wax, then blew on the tender spots it left behind.
“Open.” There was no saying no, so her shaky legs opened. The air kissed her clit. She was so exposed.
“Isa…”
He came up her body, and the weight of him pressed her into the bed. He removed the scarf from her wrists, then bound her mouth with it.
“You know what to say when you want it to stop,” he whispered in her ear. Aria thought about saying it, about ending this, but she was too curious to what it would feel like … the place he was going to pour the wax next. Aria whimpered as she bit down on the fabric, and he traveled back down her body, planting bites and then kisses along the way.
“I want my name on you, Ali. Down your back,” he whispered. He kept one hand wrapped around her long ponytail, pulling her neck back as Ali gripped the edge of the bed.
He didn’t even let it go as he poured the wax on her.
Aria’s pussy exploded. The feeling of the wax tightening around her clit felt like heaven. She came before he even touched her. She whimpered in ecstasy.
Isa’s hands opened her, and then his face conquered her. For a man who hadn’t eaten pussy before her, he was a motherfucking pro. He put a hand beneath her waist, lifting her off the bed so he went deeper. Isa was like a lion enjoying his catch, and he didn’t stop until her legs shook. The screaming orgasm rippled through her entire body. Isa’s dick dragging up her back as he came up felt glorious. He wanted her, and Aria rose, elbows and knees as he entered her.
He fucked every insecurity from her pretty little head.
“Oh fuck!” he growled. Heavy breathing. This nigga beasted her every time, and Aria loved it.
He collapsed onto her back, pressing her into the mattress as his fingers relieved her mouth of the gag.
“Don’t leave again, Ali. You fucked me up.”
Aria turned and pierced him with shocked eyes. She had hurt him. It was clear as day in his gaze. She touched his face and then rolled over onto him. He wrapped his arms around her body as she stared him down.
“Queenslayer,” she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”