i just wanted to quickly say that i appreciate you visiting my humble corner. i hope that you’ve been enjoying the journey between Promise and Bryan. i’ll be starting the summer semester next month, so my life will get a little crazy until the end of the year. when i return, i hope to have a new read for you.
again, thank you all so very much. for everything. now, let’s see what these two neighbors are up to. please enjoy the final part of undeniable.
undeniable: part three
Thirty minutes and three outfits later, Promise finally decided on what to wear, accessorizing with a silver bracelet and vintage rings. Bryan’s knock came at exactly seven in the evening. She opened the door, asking herself why she was nervous. The six foot seven man wearing a grey v-neck shirt and dark blue jeans reminded her why.
“These are for you,” he said, holding up two daisies.
“Thank you.” Promise took the flowers, touched them to her nose. While she found a vase, Bryan explained that the carrying case on his shoulder held two folding chairs for an outdoor movie on the park lawn. He watched her, taking her in. She was dressed in a fitted maxi skirt and a graphic band t-shirt. Her natural curls were pulled into a messy updo, lips touched up with nude lipstick. The makeup was simple, but it suited her.
“Ready,” she announced, dropping her phone in her bag.
She looked really nice, and he told her so.
Her heart skipped several beats. “Thanks, so do you.” It’s just fish tacos, she reminded herself. Two neighbors hanging out.
A row of colorful concession trailers lined the lot, with vendors offering anything from Korean-Mexican fusion food to homemade potato chips.
Bryan was nothing less than respectable. It was only a short walk to the park, but he insisted on taking the curbside on their way there, telling her, “That’s just how I am.” When they got to the food truck, he let her order first and wouldn’t let her pay for the food. Without knowing it, he reassured Promise that charming, considerate men still existed.
They found a relatively quiet spot among the picnic baskets, blankets and lawn chairs of other moviegoers. Settling in, they talked before the show. About snowboarding at night on Grouse Mountain, and an event called the color run. About cave diving in Tulum, the best and worst things to happen while traveling, and odd eating habits. Promise mentioned that she’d always wanted to try parasailing, but never had the courage to do it alone. When she paused to lick tartar sauce off the pad of her thumb, the pulse in Bryan’s neck pounded and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Lucky tartar sauce.
They even made a game of picking out random people and making up life stories for them.
When was the last time a man had her doubled over laughing, giggling between breaths? It certainly wasn’t with the the last guy she went out with—Geoff, the operations consultant with boyish good looks who suggested they grab a bite at a nearby gastropub known for their house brews and beef short-rib sliders. He’d sent a text to say he was running 15 minutes late. Promise casually brought up his lateness when he finally arrived. Instead of a sincere apology, he offered a facetious remark. Once the drinks were ordered, he fired question after question like he was leading an interrogation. She’d barely answered one before he’d cut her off with another.
During the meal, he critiqued her outfit, saying her clothes looked cheap and slightly used, then he complained about the pilsner he ordered. The check was placed between them when they finished. He was too busy trying to figure out the tip to notice that Promise had stood up. “It’s $12.80,” she said dryly, tossing some money on the table—enough for her half of the meal. She walked out of the restaurant, thankful that the date was over. . .
After the movie, Bryan and Promise walked around the neighborhood, talking the whole time. He offered her dessert, and the two of them stopped at Summer & Jaz Creamery for homemade ice cream sandwiches. “I have a question for you,” he said as they headed back to their apartment building.
Her brow furrowed. “Okay.”
“You seemed so hesitant to come out with me. Why?”
Promise told him about Jake, then about the string of disasters that led to her taking a break. “I guess I just wasn’t in a big hurry to cast my net back into the man pool.”
Bryan nodded in understanding. “You know not all guys are assholes, right?”
She licked the sides of her ice cream sandwich. “I know.”
“And you also know that this is technically a date, right?” he asked, stepping into her line of sight.
She stopped to look at him. “No, this is a nondate. An ice cream outing.” Bryan laughed. It was full-bodied, and rumbled like thunder. There was a small part of her that enjoyed knowing she was the cause of it.
“Home sweet home,” Promise said, digging her keys out of her bag. A knot formed in her throat when Bryan took a step into her personal space. He was close, too close. She inhaled, picking out the notes of his cologne: a blend of hibiscus, bergamot and tropical wood.
She pushed her key in the lock. “Thank you for dinner, the movie…” When she looked up at his towering figure, tiny jolts danced through her body. “. . .and the movie.”
Bryan hoisted the carrying case onto his shoulder. “I had a really good time tonight.” His pulse quickened with the desire to kiss her.
“Me, too. I had fun.” Promise turned the key. The tension in the air around them made its presence known, the energy heavy and real. She could feel the heat from his body, reaching out for her like it was a living, breathing thing. Calling for her. Luring her even closer to him, threatening to exhaust her resolve. What happens next? If he took another step closer, she knew what would happen next. Awkward post-sex encounters in the hallway, constant reminders of the mistake she’d made, and moving when her lease was up. Logic told her that it was time to put some distance between them and say goodnight.
Once inside in her apartment, she flipped on the light, dumping her keys and bag on a foyer table. She leaned against the door; the butterflies were awake, flitting around, dancing in her stomach. A slow smile warmed her face as a wave of excitement swept through her, like a teenager after her first date. She fanned herself, toeing her shoes off. It took a small wiggle, but she reached under her shirt and unclasped her bra, pulling it off through the left sleeve. She was about to step out of her skirt when a knock came from the door.
From the other side, Bryan heard the rattle and slide of the chain lock, then the click of the dead bolt. He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind them. “I need to say goodnight properly.” He backed her into the nearest wall, seizing her between its hard surface and the weight of his body. Promise could feel the impressive evidence of his arousal pressed against her. She couldn’t move, didn’t want to.
Before she could respond, before she could draw a breath, Bryan’s strong hands framed her face. He slanted his head . . . her full, inviting lips fit perfectly against his. As her body relaxed, she clutched the sides of his shirt, stood on her tiptoes, kissed him back. He smiled against her mouth when she took it deeper.
His lips were soft against hers. He tasted like the peanut butter cup ice cream he’d eaten a little earlier, his beard scraped her chin. She could get used to this. What started out slow and sweet, spilled into a haze of something rough, frantic-—almost frustrated. Their hands were everywhere: touching, roaming, seeking. Sensations tore through Promise like a tornado. Urgent. Fierce.
She made a tiny, impatient sound when Bryan pulled away. This imposing, desirable creature dropped to his knees. He bunched up her skirt, pulled it down to the floor. Her boy shorts were next. She watched him ease them down her shapely thighs, past her knees, her medium brown skin exposed from the waist down. She heard a broken moan when he lightly touched the hood of her clit with his knuckle. Did he make that sound? He looked up at her; there was something primal and pleading in his eyes. They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds. Neither uttered a word, but words weren’t needed.
Bryan leaned forward. Promise spread her legs wider in invitation, holding on to his shoulders for support. She made a noise as he drew her clit into his mouth and pushed his finger in her pussy. They both made a noise when a second joined the first. Her body canted against digits sliding in and out and in again, stroking gently against that spot while his tongue moved over the taut bundle of nerves. Side to side, up and down. Beautiful, lazy circles and figure eights. She closed her eyes, opening her mouth in an attempt to speak, to say something–anything, but all she could manage were quick, shallow breaths.
Delirium. That’s the best way to describe the state she was in. Her body was overwhelmed: inside her, Bryan’s fingertips were busy stretching here, teasing there—curling, exploring the contours. Outside, his thick tongue fluttered at her distended clit with just enough pressure to keep her at the edge of release.
This. She ached for this, needed this. Promise freed his bun from its elastic band. She pushed her fingers through his hair to grab a handful, to keep him near, his beard wet with her arousal. “Don’t stop . . .” she said, pressing against his face.
He didn’t. He took his time reaching and tasting, swallowing everything she gave him. Her pants became excited moans that encouraged him, he was so hard he thought he was going to lose his mind. He kept going, fingering, sucking, murmuring against the warm heat of her.
His name left her lips in a broken gasp. Fuck, the murmuring was sexy. Those soft, indistinct sounds coming from him only elevated her pleasure. Promise struggled to remain upright as she rode his hand and mouth. He pushed deeper, her body pulsed. She was weak.
Bryan stopped, disengaged. He pulled his fingers out slowly, kissing her inner thighs and belly button for a few moments. He wanted to stay there, wanted to lose himself in her feminine scent, but she made a helpless noise that told him what he already knew.
Raising up, he grabbed his shirt from the back, pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. There was a different look in his eyes, something dark, wild. Powerful. More kisses came, then he took her hand, leading her and her damp, shaky thighs down the hall to her bedroom.
the morning after
The ringing of the doorbell woke her. Promise turned to her nightstand. The light green display on the clock told her that it was 7:38 a.m. The scent of sex hung in the room, clinging to her body and sheets, like a fragrant perfume. A self-indulgent stretch reminded her that she was sore in places, especially between her thighs. Being fucked well—all night long—felt so damn good.
She replayed the previous night in her mind: bodies writhing, going from position to position; his solid form flush with her soft curves, skin on skin, moving together. Giving, taking. His head dropping; low, throaty sighs of pleasure finding sanctuary in the recess of her neck. Bryan kissing the corners of her mouth, the underside of her breast. His teeth finding her nipples, biting and pulling until she trembled.
The wide crest of his dick nestled in the crease of her pussy. Stroking, then parting her lips. A series of passionate moans and obscenities as he slowly eased his way inside. Every inch of him occupying a space he’d craved for some time. His eyes closing at the first feel of her delicate tissues. Promise’s legs hooked around his waist. Her nails digging, raking across his back, the satisfaction she felt in marking him.
“When was the last time you were fucked like this. . ?”
Him lifting her leg over his shoulder, chanting her name. The heat, the penetration. Her muscles clenching, enveloping, the friction against her clit exquisite. The expression on his face when he neared release; his nose against hers, uttering one word before their bodies relented to their own erotic inclinations. The statement punctuated with a thrust that brought them to the end in the most wonderful way.
The knocking summoned her out of bed. Promise dug through her dresser for a shirt and a pair of shorts. On her way to the door, she passed by her skirt and panties bunched up by the wall. She could still hear the sexy noise he made when he pulled them off of her.
She looked through the peephole. Last night, Bryan had seen her naked, vulnerable. Messy hair and morning breath was a different story. She silently cursed herself for not having any mints around, then opened the door.
“Good morning, sleepy head.” The smell coming from the take-out bag was almost as enticing as Bryan standing in her doorway. “Hope you like brioche breakfast sandwiches.” He was barefoot and shirtless. Jeans unbuttoned, riding low on his hips. His tousled hair hung in loose waves past his shoulders.
Promise hooked a finger in one of his belt loops and tugged, pulling him inside.
She was hungry, but it wasn’t for the food.