Page 2 of Tension

Langston holds up his hands, showing two more.

Matt falls back on the couch. “Fuck! I got to drink.”

Nia cackles and reaches for a drink. She and Langston are taking turns teasing each other, but keeping it "cute.” Well, as cute as dry humping gets. I am not that lucky.

Vel puts down a Wild and smirks at me. “Group picks.”

Nia leans forward, her smile wide. “A strip tease. From Vel, for Chris.”

I shoot her a look. “Et tu, Nia?”

Langston shrugs. “House rules.”

Pony comes on loud over the speakers, the bass thumping through the floorboards and vibrating in my chest. I shoot Nia another look because she knows that is my song. Vel grabs a chair and places it in the center of the room. Then he takes my hand and guides me to sit. His palm is warm, his grip firm but not pushy. He walks away a few paces, and then, when Ginuwine starts singing, he slides across the floor with a fluid, feline grace that makes my breath hitch, like stripping is his true calling.

Everyone cheers. He body-rolls on his knees, arms crossed, removing his shirt and twirling it over his head. I am so into it, I start singing along, moving to the music as I watch him. When he reaches me, he plants his hands on my thighs and rolls up to a standing position. His movements are slow and teasing. His hips are moving, showing a visible dick print. He is inches from my face, and I cover my eyes, acting shy when all I want to do is grab him.

As if reading my mind, he takes my hands and runs them down his chest. His skin is like silk over granite, smelling of expensive cologne and cocoa butter. Soft but firm. A man who moisturizes? Now that’s a turn-on. I pull away before my hands go any lower and before I lose my damn mind.

Then he starts unbuttoning his pants.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough. Don’t nobody wanna see yo lil dick,” I say, pushing him away and laughing.

The room roars. I head back to my seat, still giggling, pulse racing. Vel doesn’t say a word. But he doesn't look away, either. He keeps his shirt off and his eyes on me through the rest of the game.

Somewhere in the middle of the laughter and the dares, my body is screaming what my mouth won't admit. That print is far from little.

And I want him.

…

We all do the responsible thing and call cars. Things had gotten out of hand. Nia and LL share a ride, and that driver is in for a long trip because modesty isn't in their vocabulary. PDA definitely is. Jasmine and Joe grab a ride together since they live in the same area. I am supposed to be heading to a hotel, but my ride gets canceled. Twice.

As Nia would say, the universe clearly has a different plan.

So here I am. Still here. Helping Vel clean up while I wait.

“I like the cut better than the wigs,” he says, too close behind me as I fix the pillows on his couch. His voice is a low vibration that settles right at the base of my spine.

I turn slowly to glare at him, still holding the pillow like it can protect me. I hate how good it feels to be seen. “You know, you really shouldn’t comment on a Black woman’s hair unsolicited.”

“You really shouldn’t be with a man your girls don’t like,” he shoots back, stepping in just enough to make me pause.

I hit him on the chest with the pillow. “Another unwarranted comment. Strike one.”

He smirks, eyes dragging down my body like he is starving. He is memorizing every curve. “The things I’d do to that body…”

“Strike two,” I warn, lifting the pillow again.

But he catches my wrist. His hand is warm, firm, steady. He doesn’t pull hard; he doesn't have to. It doesn't take much to pull me in, chest to chest. I feel every hard, muscular inch of him. Especially the hard couple of inches down below.

He dips his head low, his voice brushing my ear, hot and heavy. “Stay with me tonight.”

My breath catches, the air in the room suddenly feeling thick and electric. He pulls back to study my face, probably wondering if I’d say strike three... or give in to my body's desires.

CHRIS

Boom. Boom. Boom.