Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility) (17 page)

Azmir must have felt it because he heeded, “Slow to gain, Brimm,” through clenched teeth. 

I couldn’t help it. “Azmir…Oh…You…Feel...So...Good,” I protested as I grinded up and down and up and down.

“All for you, Ms. Brimm,” he declared, fighting to maintain composure. “All because I need you.”

That was it. I couldn’t hold back any longer. It was like he said those magic words to unlock the treasure chest. I exploded all around him. I used his broad and muscular shoulders to anchor myself and I could see the salacious grin he wore as he watched me climax. He eventually pulled me to his chest as he forcefully flexed his hips into me, extending my orgasmic float.

It was the perfect erotic image—my abdomen pinned to his chest, my head gradually reclined away from him, pushing my breasts in his face. Azmir grinded hard and purposefully. My arms dangled behind me onto the bed as Azmir freely used my body to find his release. Seconds later, he sang my name as he detonated deep inside of me.

I lay in Azmir’s arms, exhausted, satiated and out of breath. Our breathing eventually stabilized, though I could lay there forever. I forgot where I was and the nature of my visit until Azmir reminded me.

“We have to get up. You have a long day ahead.”

“Mmmmmm...” I purred, indicating my desire to stay put.

“Come on, Brimm. You have another presentation today.”

“Crap! I do!” I yelped like an alarm had gone off in my head. I sat up on his lap. “What time is it?” I asked, darting my attention to the time clock. It read seven forty-one. “Crap! I’m missing breakfast. I guess I’ll just have to starve.”

I wasn’t in the mood to rush through a meal. Most importantly, I wasn’t ready to leave Azmir.

“Let’s order room service then get you into the shower. You can still be on time for your presentation.”

Huhn?
“How did you know I had a presentation?”

That was his second time mentioning it. I hadn’t even told him about this conference. I’m sure Sharon forwarded my schedule this week to his assistant per usual, but that didn’t indicate that I’d be facilitating, did it?

“It’s my job to know everything about you,” he whispered with a sly, yet sexy smirk—his panty-snatching smirk. “Now come on. Up!” he ordered. 

Rayna

We rode north on Interstate 5, on our way back to the marina after the conference in San Diego. After stopping for lunch on Newport Beach, we returned to the car to finish the commute, exchanging no words. I accepted the companionable silence and simply appreciated the breeze that blew forcefully through the cracked windows and the majestic Oceanside view.

It was seldom that I got the privilege of being driven, which is why I loved when Azmir was at the wheel. It reminded me of traditional normal, where the man leads and the woman sits back and relaxes, trusting his navigation—literally and figuratively. It gave me time to think.

As much as I tried, I could come up with no plan for how I would confront Azmir about his kiss with Dawn. I struggled with the fear of him feeling that he didn’t owe me an explanation because although he’d invited me to live with him, he didn’t promise anything beyond that.

When we arrived at the apartment, we ran into Manny, one of the building’s concierge, who was as eager as ever to see Azmir. They spoke vaguely when Azmir asked him about a delivery. Whatever that meant, Manny assured that it was received and properly handled. Azmir also asked Manny to arrange for Azna to be picked up from the kennel and brought home, much to my relief. I’d missed my little fur ball. Hearing Azmir bark out orders in his CEO mien reminded me of the lifestyle I’ve adapted since agreeing to live with him. Everything was at his fingertips, hugely convenient and at a moment’s call. This could possibly be another thing that I’d be walking away from.

As soon as we stepped into the apartment, there in the foyer was a concierge luggage cart with a black suit bag hanging from it with an Italian boutique’s name displayed on it. On the floor of the cart was a shopping bag with shoes. I quickly turned to look at Azmir who didn’t seem as surprised as I was at all.

“It’s for you…for tonight. We’re going out.”

“Out where?” I was confused.

“On a date.”

“Oh.”

“You should be ready by six thirty. I have some calls to make. Do what you must to get prepared.” He walked off toward his office. He continued, “I have to go get a cut in a couple of hours so, I’ll have to go back out.”

I watched his captivating gait into his office. It was never dull watching Azmir’s stride. He was so graceful and confident in his movements. Just so sexy! When the show was over, I turned to the cart and dubiously unzipped the suit bag to find a stunning Hervé Léger gold, glimmer, strapless dress. It was a form fitting mini. My mouth dropped at the said $2,800 price tag…
that Azmir didn’t have the opportunity to discard,
something he usually does. The urge to tell Azmir how ridiculously over the top this was surged through my veins, but I couldn’t ignore the thoughtfulness in his gesture.

This was premeditated. In the bag below were black leather Christian Louboutin Daffodile 160mm pumps and jewelry accessories. Suddenly, I felt those overwhelming anxious sensations.

Were these guilt gifts? Did Azmir sleep with Dawn?

Bile ascended from my belly and I swallowed hard to keep it down. I tried so hard not to dwell on that depressing theory. I employed everything within me to adapt a sanguine disposition for the sake of the evening. I would just have to ride this out until the appropriate time to confront Azmir with what I knew.

That night we attended a Trey Songz concert. It was the first leg of his international tour for his latest album, the hottest ticket in town. I’d heard advertisements for contests to win tickets for it. In true A.D. Jacobs’ fashion, we had impeccable seats. I could swear that I was hit with Trey’s sweat from where we stood.

The show was great from start to finish. It really helped me escape my internal stressors, even if only temporarily. Trey sang a few of my favorite hits of his including
I Invented Sex
. I gave Azmir as licentious of a lap dance that was appropriate in public. I could tell he enjoyed me by the way his heavy gaze swayed between my eyes to my backside that gyrated meticulously in his lap. He tried his best to keep his hands limited to my hips as I enjoyed teasing him. It was weird to have security with us, though I knew the game, so I dare not complain. I simply acted as though they were not there, just as Azmir did.

After the show, we caught dinner at a small, high end restaurant that allowed us intimacy. Azmir talked a lot about his work, something that I relished. He mentioned insane stories from when he stayed with Mark and Eric for a few days last week—
the same timeframe that he kissed Dawn Taylor
. The guys agreed on a triple date event in the near future. I had hoped it was possible.

Dinner was delightful and the drinks complimented the meal. It was hard to ignore Azmir’s phone going off. He didn’t take a single call, just kept sending it to voice mail. As much as I wanted to believe that he was hiding something from me, it was difficult to considering how heavily engaged he was in our conversations. He must have told me how beautiful I was that night at least a dozen times. It melted my core—literally.

We didn’t stay for long after finishing our meal. We were whisked off to a private after party for the tour that was already in full swing in West Hollywood. It was at an upscale lounge and the line to get in was fairly long. Marcus, our security, jumped out to talk to the guards at door before returning to the car and opening the door for Azmir and me to exit. Ray pulled off as we jumped the line to get inside.

The place was packed, but the atmosphere was relaxed. There were so many celebrities in there and per usual, they were very much acquainted with Mr. Jacobs. He was always equanimous in his interactions with them. Azmir was never pressed to speak to anyone or kissed up. In contrast, he returned greetings and did very little talking, but mostly nodded and smiled. Once in a while he’d introduce me to one, but for the most part he kept conversations brief, promising to chat at another time.

Who was this Azmir Jacobs?

Not even twenty minutes into our arrival did I notice Lady Spin and Britni. They sat in a lounge across the room at a comfortable distance. I saw them whisper and point in our direction and wondered what could they possibly have to say. Suddenly, I felt Azmir’s lips on my ear whispering, “I see your friend over there. You should go say hello,” sardonically.  

I scoffed. “She’s with
your
friend. You first.” He flashed his panty-snatching smirk and my insides clenched. When we were seated with our drinks I asked, “Do you know Trey Songz?” trying to get a better understanding of him and who he was in the industry.

“We’ve met in circles…been in the same places…know a few of the same people, but not personally. I don’t think he’s here. He’s probably at a public after party.”

“Public?”

“Yeah…this one is private, more for industry heads who want to mingle without the hoopla and fanfare. It’s like the listening party, but after the release of the album, for those who may not have attended. He’ll come in and greet folks, he may even perform a little. Do you want to meet him,” he offered, his face completely deadpan.

“Oh, no. I’m a fan of his music, but not the groupie type.” A rush of relief washed over Azmir’s face. It was too overt. “Don’t get me wrong, if he was like a Charlie Wilson, or a Will Downing or even a Keith Sweat I’d be bum-rushing his security,” I joked.

Azmir wrinkled his nose. “Keith Sweat? How could you even place him in the same sentence as Charlie and Will?” He laughed and although it was at my expense, I enjoyed his lightheartedness.

“Are you kidding me? Keith Sweat could beg the sweat off my back effortlessly.” Since I was a kid I crushed on Mr. Sweat. He was so hot to me.

“I’ll make sure to slip his music in the shuffle the next time I have your ass. If he can make your back sweat, I’ll lick it off.” Azmir gave a soft grimace. “No Keith Sweat concert in your future, kid.” I couldn’t read if he was speaking in jest or was serious with his declarations.

Before I could ask, I heard, “Divine, surprised to see you here.” I looked up to find Spin standing before me.

“Lady Spin, long time no see. How are you?” Azmir was his usual cool and polite self.

“I’m good. I worked the concert. We aired live.” Her brows furrowed suddenly. “You don’t do concerts anymore,” she was goading him for answers.

“I’ve been working hard lately…wanted a romantic evening and thought Trey could help set the mood,” Azmir said as he ran his thumb across the start of my spine, causing me to shiver. I’d hope not so conspicuously. I smiled—probably giggled in my tipsy state. That made Spin’s spiteful gape shoot over to me.

“Nice to see you again, Spin.” I attempted to be civil.

“Hi…?” She pretended to have forgotten my name. I knew in that moment it wasn’t going to be a pleasant run in.

“Rayna,” Azmir retorted.

“…Brimm. Surely you couldn’t forget that. You
are
friends with an
old
associate of mine, and I’m
friends
with an
old associate
of
yours
,” with a bright smile I added to the sting.

She silently gasped. I don’t think she was expecting Azmir’s protectiveness or me to clap back at her.
I’ve read your texts to him, bitch!

Spin kept her gaze on Azmir. “I’ll be seeing you around, Divine. Your assistant contacted me about the fair your rec center is planning in the LBC?” Azmir nodded.
What fair?
Azmir had never mentioned a fair. “I’ll make room in my schedule to be there,” she forced a sinister smile.

“Good to know. I appreciate that,” Azmir nodded again. Not having much left to say, she turned to walk off, but not before rolling her eyes at me.

“Aye, Spin,” I called out to her. She stopped and turned to me.

“I look forward to seeing you at the fair. Thanks for helping out. We appreciate it,” I took my final jab. She huffed, rolled her eyes again, and turned on her heels.

“You need to be nice, Ms. Brimm,” Azmir teased when Lady Spin was out of earshot.

“I am so sick of
your
people picking on me. What is it? I mean—Spin, I get. But Syn I don’t.”

Azmir hissed, “Syn is a fucking nut case. I was ready to choke her little ass over that table in Vegas. I can only imagine what Kid did when he dealt with her. She is getting bolder with her crassness and her drinking contributes to it all.”

“Yeah, Kim mentioned her drinking,” I murmured contemplatively, suddenly feeling sorry for Syn. “I didn’t know it was that bad.” I still didn’t get why I was a target, but decided to stick with my original plan of simply tolerating her ghetto antics. It’s not like I was unfamiliar with her kind.

“Don’t pay her any mind. She’s not worth your time.” His words were comforting even if they weren’t necessary for Syn. She really was insignificant in my book.

“I need to go relieve myself,” I said to excuse myself.

“I’ll go with you.” Azmir sat up in his seat.

“No, Mr. Jacobs, I’ll be fine. I’ve been drinking all evening and will probably have to go several times before we leave. You can’t come with me every time.” Disappointment settled on his face. “Unless…you wanna explore your exhibitionist side.” I raised my eyebrows.

A bashful smile formed on his perfectly sculpted lips. I watched as he made the decision to stay put. He sat back on the sofa.

When I came out of the stall, I headed to the sinks and washed my hands. I looked up in the mirror to check my makeup and noticed that the red on my lips had dulled before I came upon gaping eyes. They belonged to Tara.
What the?
She was the last person I was expecting to run into. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

I casually pulled out my lipstick to freshen up my lips, the way that Azmir preferred. Tara was eventually able to move up to the sink and wash her hands. I caught her giving me a once over on her way. She appeared saddened by my presence. The texts she sent Azmir came to mind and when I matched it against her current disposition, my heart softened to her. No matter my impression of her, I couldn’t help but pity her situation. Yeah, she did her dirt and lost Azmir in the process, but she was now a single parent and oddly that was something I could sympathize with.

“Hello, Tara.”

Her eyes jumped in surprise at my civility. She took a second or two to plan her response.

With furrowed brows, she tentatively asked, “Rayna, right?”

Why do these chicks think that I would believe for one second that they didn’t know my name? Heck, they likely knew my occupation!

“Yes, Rayna. And I think you knew that.” I tried to quiet my sigh. “Listen, we can at least be cordial. There’s no need to be otherwise. Azmir told me you had the baby. Congratulations.” I gave her a warm smile in an attempt to lower her guards.

It didn’t have the immediate warming effects that I was going for, but she did manage, “Thank you.” It was a little stiff, but I applauded her efforts.

“You look really good,” I tried to end our awkward exchange on a good note. It was sincere. She wore a mini black fitted long-sleeved dress. Boa-like feathers ran from the neck and down both sleeves. She accessorized with a gold plated belt with a chain that hung from the side and the same Daffodile Red Bottom pumps that I had on.