4. Vines of Passion
CALEB
Trigger Warning: Mention of Domestic Abuse
Naomi's unoccupied chair was distracting as Hell during the wine etiquette class I was conducting. I couldn’t get my mind off her, pondering her absence. Had I done something wrong? Yet, as I recalled our talk at the luncheon and her enthusiasm for our planned date tonight, I doubted it was something I'd caused.
Was it a situation back in New York? The memory of her tightening grip on my hand when I inquired about any trouble she might be facing played on repeat in my mind, hinting at a deeper story she felt compelled to hide from me.
As soon as the last attendee drifted out, I was already fishing out my phone, eager to check in on her. I thought my arrival for the latter part of the day had been perfectly timed with the hope of us leaving together. Now it looked like my dinner reservation for us would be thrown off by her not being here - she wasn’t even answering my call.
The moment her voicemail greeted me, I hung up and quickly shot her a text, hoping for some sign that she was okay and still up for our date. I could swing by and get her from wherever she was in town, no big deal.
Me: Everything good? Still on for tonight?
Right on cue, my dad walked in, a look of mild surprise on his face as he noticed me still standing in the classroom.
"Your lady friend today didn’t come today, huh? That’s why you’re looking all pitiful?" he quipped, closing the door behind him with that familiar smirk that I realized I'd inherited.
I couldn't help but scoff at him, "You and your wife been pillow talking I see."
"Perhaps," he replied with a nonchalant shrug, hands in pockets, embodying the casual observer. "But son, if you're trying to keep things under wraps, you and Naomi might want to dial it back. It's as clear as day to anyone paying attention that something is going on between you too.."
His observation made me shake my head, both amused and slightly caught off guard.
"You two really need a new hobby," I joked, acknowledging their knack for getting involved in my personal affairs but trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing.
Was there a “whole thing”? Here I was, suggesting we practically live in each other's pockets for two weeks, kicking it off with what was supposed to be tonight's date. Yet, the silence on her end felt like she was fading out on me, pulling a disappearing act before we even got started.
"That's always been your problem, Caleb. You might as well be broadcasting your feelings on a billboard," he teased, his laughter echoing softly in the room. "You're not exactly subtle."
I tried to deflect, maintain some semblance of casualness. "It's nothing serious, Dad. We just met."
He simply smiled, clapping a hand on my shoulder with that age-old wisdom shining through. "Sometimes, Caleb, it doesn't take long to recognize something special."
I brushed off his comments, still clinging to a thread of denial.
"We'll see, Dad. Right now, it doesn't seem like our first date is even happening.", I said just as my phone began vibrating.
NAOMI: I’m sick, can’t make it. Sorry.
Damn.
"She's not feeling well," I shared with my Dad, his eyes on me as if the message had been sent to both of us, seeking the details as though he were directly included in the exchange.
"Who's sick?", my mother's voice cut through the tension, as she walked into the room.
"Naomi," my father and I responded together, our concern for her well-being syncing in that moment.
The news seemed to hit my mother with a mix of surprise and empathy, her expression softening. My mind raced with thoughts of Naomi, possibly alone and unwell, stirring a deep-seated urge to be there for her, to offer some comfort, however small.
"I'd bring her some soup or something...but I have no idea where she's staying," I admitted, feeling somewhat helpless at the thought of her being sick without anyone to look after her out here.
"Well..." My mother's voice trailed off, hinting at a piece of information that immediately caught my father's and my attention.
We turned to her, expectant. The room hung in suspense, my father's impatience breaking the silence.
"Well, are you going to tell the boy something or leave us guessing?" he prodded.
My mother hesitated, her gaze flickering towards me, wrestling with the decision to disclose what she knew.
"Ma, please," I found myself urging her, the need to know outweighing any previous frustration. “Do you know where she’s staying?”
With a reluctant sigh, she finally spoke. "The Wave."
The pieces clicked into place. Of course, The Wave. The very reason our paths had crossed so effortlessly at Benny's located in the lobby suddenly seemed glaringly obvious, yet in my overthinking, I'd missed it entirely. It was as if the answer had been hiding in plain sight, overlooked in my scramble to connect the dots.
With a plan in motion to care for Naomi, I turned to my mother, hopeful.
"You think Chef could whip up something special? I want to take her dinner.", I stated.
Her response was a warm smile, a nod that ushered me into action. We headed straight for the kitchen, where Chef and my mom joined forces, assembling a care package fit for Naomi. We packed up a variety of freshly made dishes, ensuring Naomi would have plenty of options since I wasn’t sure what she’d be in the mood for.
I also wiped out the over-the-counter remedies and cleaning supplies from our stock, prepared for any need she might have. Armed with enough provisions to rival a small pharmacy, I loaded up the truck and set off for The Wave just a short drive away.
Pulling up to The Wave, I spotted Terry behind the front desk, a blast from the past, an old face from high school.
"Hey, Terry," I greeted him, fist bumping in lieu of formalities.
"C-Dog, how's it hanging?" he shot back, that nickname grating on me as always.
Since ninth grade, that moniker had followed me around like a bad smell, thanks to football and Terry's knack for nicknames that stick. Normally, I'd shut it down quick, but tonight, I had bigger fish to fry.
"Just here on a mission, not looking for a room," I explained, realizing he was eyeing the bags I was lugging around. "Got a relative staying here, and Mom's sent me on an errand. But, brain's like a sieve tonight, forgot their room number," I continued, throwing in a bit of theatrics about how my mom would react if I called her for it again.
"Man, moms, huh?" Terry commiserated, leaning in a bit.
"Exactly, and my relative isn't picking up her phone, probably got it on silent or something," I added, laying it on thick.
"Don’t you hate when people do that?" he sighed, shaking his head.
"Yeah, it is. So, any chance you can help me out with that room number?" I asked lowering my voice, laying on my best 'Caleb charm,' hoping it'd be enough to bypass any protocol without causing Terry any trouble.
Terry glanced his blue eyes around with a caution that suggested he was about to break the rules, making sure we were alone in our conversation.
"I really shouldn't be doing this, man," he whispered, running a hand through his hair, a gesture of nervous habit. "But you're good people, C-Dog. We’ve always have been bros."
In my head, I had to correct him—never in history had we been bros.
"Right," I played along, keeping my expression friendly and appreciative.
As he tapped away at the keyboard, I could feel the anticipation building. This was the moment of truth, bending the rules for the sake of something—or someone—important.
"Family's family, right? She's up on the top floor, room 7B," he finally said, leaning back with a look that said he'd just shared a state secret.
"Thanks, Terry. Really appreciate it," I responded, my gratitude genuine despite the inner monologue about our so-called brotherhood. This was it, the lead I needed, all thanks to Terry's momentary lapse in protocol.
With another fist pound, I made my way down the hall and into the elevator. Arriving at door 7B, I paused, taking a moment to steady myself and put on my medical mask before knocking gently, ready to offer whatever solace I could in her time of need.
It took a minute or so before the door creaked open, revealing Naomi in the same attire from the luncheon, her eyes shadowed with fatigue, a picture of surprise and vulnerability.
"Caleb, what...how did you find me?", her voice was a whisper of disbelief, tinged with a touch of embarrassment.
Holding up the bags with a half-smile that she couldn’t see behind my mask, I played it cool although I wanted to ask if what the fuck was going on.
"Thought you might be avoiding me. But seeing you now, I can tell you're really feeling like Hell," I said, letting a tease lace my words, despite the concern etching my heart.
She glanced away, her discomfort palpable as she caught her reflection. I let out a soft chuckle, not to mock but to ease the tension between us.
"Hey, I'm joking," I quickly added, my laughter fading into a softer tone. "You know, you've got this...even now in this moment, there's still something undeniably captivating about you."
Naomi offered a hesitant smile, a silent acknowledgment of my attempt to lighten the mood as she tried to fix her hair.
"Caleb, what is this?," she murmured, eyeing the bags of food and supplies I'd brought.
"Thought you might not be up for our date, so I decided to bring the date to you. Can't let you go hungry on my watch. And don't stress about getting me sick," I reassured, tapping the mask I wore. "I'm all geared up."
The warmth in her eyes told me my gesture had hit home, cutting through the awkwardness of the moment. In the dim light of her doorway, a connection, tender and genuine, reaffirmed itself, grounding us in a shared understanding that transcended words.
“Caleb…”, she began looking at the ground.
“Naomi, please let me in.”, I pleaded knowing she was about to find an excuse to send me away.
Naomi's hesitation was palpable, a silent battle waging behind her eyes. When she finally stepped aside, granting me entry, a wave of relief washed over me. I made quick work of unloading the care package onto the nearest surface, a small dining table that seemed to double as her makeshift sickbay.
Turning to face her, I noticed the cautious way she moved closer, her gaze locked on mine.
"I wasn't sure what you were up against...could've been anything from a cold to a fever or, well..." I hesitated, brandishing a bottle of medicine with a playful raise of my eyebrows, "diarrhea."
The laughter that escaped her then was like music, genuine and unfettered, a sound that seemed to chase away some of the shadows lingering in the room.
"You were really prepared to hang out with me, even if it was...explosive diarrhea?" she teased, disbelief mingling with a hint of affection in her voice.
"Of course," I replied, my shrug aiming to convey nonchalance but my eyes betraying my earnestness. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Her laughter, light and freeing, marked a shift in the air between us, turning an awkward admission into a moment of unexpected connection.
"Well, thankfully, it's none of those," she assured me, a playful spark in her eyes signaling a return to the Naomi I remembered from before.
Seeing Naomi's struggle, caught between the need for a semblance of normalcy and the vulnerability of her current state, I knew action was more comforting than words could ever be. Her initial embarrassment was palpable, a stark contrast to the strength she always projected.
“What’s going on Naomi, talk to me.”, I urged reaching to hold her hand.
“I would but…I…really need a shower.”, she said low.
Driven by a gut feeling to look after her, to bring a bit of comfort however I could, I headed straight to the bathroom without a word. Twisting the shower knob, I let the water heat up, thinking of how she hadn't managed to shower on her own. It seemed she was wrestling with more than just physical exhaustion; she was in a place mentally where self-care had taken a backseat, if it was even in the car at all.
I understood that place all too well, having been engulfed by depression's shadow myself once. Recognizing the type of "sick" she was grappling with didn't require her to spell it out for me; I saw the signs, felt the weight of her struggle, and knew I had to step in, to be the support she needed right now.
"I’m going to help you," I reassured her as she looked at me in confusion once I returned to her.
Despite her hesitation, a mix of pride and the edge of tears, Naomi allowed the gesture, stepping into the vulnerability of the moment with a courage that spoke volumes. Her cooperation, a silent admission of her trust in me, was a big step, an understanding that sometimes, it's okay to lean on someone else.
Once we got in the bathroom, I helped her out of her dress, unclipped her bra so she could slip it off and helped her out of her underwear. I undressed as well. She looked at me for a while and smile without saying anything.
“Don’t even think about it”, I teased her as she looked at my dick.
“I, ummm…I’m just getting a my first good look at you is all. It was dark…that night.”, she said in a low voice.
Yeah, everything between us had accelerated faster than I could've ever predicted the first night we met, and standing there, I was truly seeing her—really seeing her—for the first time. She was perfect.But this wasn't the time to get caught up in that, to dwell on the physical attraction that had initially pulled me to her.
This moment was about something far more significant. It was about offering support, about standing with her as she faced her vulnerabilities. With a gentle gesture, I opened the shower door, encouraging her to step into the warm cascade. As she moved forward, I followed, ensuring she felt safe and not alone, ready to offer the care she needed without overstepping, always mindful of her comfort and dignity.
“Mind getting your hair wet?”, I asked from behind her.
“No.”, she answered sounding so tired.
Recognizing Naomi's acquiescence as a departure from her usual self-reliance underscored the gravity of her situation for me. It was a silent admission of her vulnerability, a trust placed in my hands that I did not take lightly.
Understanding the situation's gravity, I approached the task with a deep sense of respect to ensure her comfort. Starting carefully at her shoulders, I moved methodically, ensuring every action conveyed support rather than intrusion, maintaining her dignity at every step. I carefully washed every corner of her body from her back, down to her legs and toes.
After we showered I walked Naomi over to the bed where I laid her down. With a generous amount of lotion I found in the bathroom, I ensured that she was fully moisturized and relaxed with a gentle massage that I gave her in the process.
Once she was comfortable in her robe, she retreated to the bathroom for her oral and skincare routine, leaving me to prepare myself and the feast I had brought for her. Dressed in a robe that matched hers that I found in the closet, I arranged the food, creating a spread that I hoped would entice her appetite.
Returning to the living space, Naomi's smile was a beacon of gratitude. She was looking better already.
"I was really looking forward to our date...I just couldn't make it," she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of regret that tugged at my heartstrings.
I brushed off the disappointment; her well-being was my priority now. The dinner reservation I cancelled on the way over wasn’t worth addressing.
"Last time you ate was at the luncheon, wasn’t it?" I asked, concerned about how long she'd gone without proper nutrition.
Her confirmation by nodding her head only heightened my resolve to take care of her in this moment.
"Would you like me to fix you a plate, or do you want to graze?" I offered as I brought her over to sit down.
“Are you always this caring?”, she asked as she got comfortable in her chair, catching me slightly off guard, but it was a reminder of why I was here.
"Taking care of you is what I want to do," I responded with a light smirk as I sat down across from her, trying to keep the mood light.
Watching her enjoy the first bite was a small victory, seeing a semblance of happiness in her eyes. Yet, it felt like the right time to delve deeper, to truly understand her.
"Do you often feel this way? Overwhelmed...depressed?" I ventured cautiously, not wanting to pry but needing to understand.
Her brief look of embarrassment was quickly replaced by surprise at my directness.
"It's okay, Naomi. There's no shame in struggling with your mental health sometimes. I've been there myself," I reassured her, hoping to bridge the gap with my own vulnerability.
"Really? When? Why?" she inquired, curiosity mingling with a newfound openness between us.
It was a conversation I hadn't anticipated having so soon, but in this quiet room, with the night stretching before us, it felt right. We were laying the groundwork for something deeper, a connection fostered not just by mutual physical attraction but by shared experiences and empathy.
"I used to be married," I started, the words feeling heavy but freeing at the same time."Man, I was all in, thinking life was on track. I was excited about becoming a dad when she told me she was pregnant," I started, the memory still sharp. "Then bam, a couple months later, my wife tells me that she's not sure if I'm the father."
Naomi's reaction was instant, a mix of shock and disbelief as she nearly choked on her meal.
Naomi's plea, half-joking in its desperation, brought a brief laugh out of me.
"I wish I could say it was just some drama cooked up for a BET Movie," I responded, the absurdity of my own story hitting me anew.
Night after night, I'd lie awake, questioning the reality of it all, how the people closest to me, my supposed brother-from-another-mother and the woman I met and fell for in college, could betray me in such a profound way. It felt like a script too twisted for real life, yet here I was, living proof that sometimes truth is stranger, and more painful, than fiction.
"Yeah, believe it or not, it was a toss-up between me and Xion, my so-called best friend since we were in 6th grade" I went on, the bitterness of betrayal lingering in my words. "Once she did the ultrasound, it was confirmed that the timing was all wrong. I was halfway across the world on business when that baby was conceived. Turns out they'd been sneaking around for nearly a year. Each time I traveled for work, they used it as an opportunity to fuck each other and play house."
“Holy shit, Caleb! I’m sorry.”, Naomi said.
Naomi's next question caught me off guard, a straightforward curiosity about my ex-wife.
“Do you miss your old life? Do you miss her?”, she asked.
"Hell no!" I responded with a laugh that didn't quite mask the sting that came with remembering. "The betrayal hurt like hell, not just from her but from him. Losing a friend, a brother, hit harder in many ways. But they're out of my life now, and that's for the best."
“How did you deal with it all?”, she asked carefully.
"It took a lot of therapy, some medication to get through the toughest parts, and my family's support," I shared, acknowledging the path to recovery wasn't linear but was possible with the right support.
I didn’t talk about Jasmine and Xion much. It turned out to be scandal around town causing me to leave for a while so that I didn’t have to keep seeing the looks of pity, but five years later, it was just one of those things and we didn’t mention their names. Jasmine and Xion’s antics broke several family’s apart, it wasn’t just painful for me.
“That’s my bullshit. What’s your story?”, I asked as I stuck my fork in the Caprese Salad I brought over.
The hesitance in her eyes was palpable, yet she bravely began to unveil her own truth after taking a deep breath.
"The loss of my grandmother was the beginning," she started, a thread of grief woven into her words. “I got with this guy that had been pursuing me for years. When I was in my right mind I saw the red flags but, he reached out again and I was in a totally different headspace, grieving. He was wonderful at first and then it was like…one day I looked up and my life was unrecognizable.”
As Naomi's voice broke over the words, my heart tightened in response to her pain.
I reached for Naomi’s hand as she started to tear up.
“He hurt me really bad.”, she cried softly unable to look me.
“How?”, I asked clenching my teeth feeling as though I knew the answer.
“Physically…emotionally…financially…mentally…every which way.”, she said finally looking at me.
The revelation of her suffering at the hands of someone she trusted ignited a protective fury within me. Her initial wariness around me suddenly made sense, a self-preservation born from trauma. As I processed her admission, my resolve hardened not to be another source of fear but a foundation of support and understanding, a counter to the hurt she had known.
“He ended up getting arrested for assaulting his business partner, but my photos, the ones showing what he did to me that they found when they went through his phone, they helped the case against him. I was drawn into the trial, my evidence a testament to his true nature,” Naomi shared, her voice a mixture of relief and lingering sorrow. "Just when I thought I could breathe again, this viral TikTok hit. A girl claimed my hair care line made her hair fall out. It spiraled out of control. Video after video, my reputation and products were torn apart by lies."
I squeezed her hand, offering silent support as she continued, not wanting to interrupt her flow.
"It was too much. I couldn't handle the onslaught. Everything I worked for started to crumble. Sales plummeted; people were discarding my products into the trash and posting about it. My company, my dream that started in my kitchen and grew from the ground up at flea markets, is now in jeopardy. Retailers are backing out, and my team's morale has hit rock bottom. I feel like I've hit the end of the road. So here I am in Napa Valley, escaping," she concluded, the despair evident in her tear-streaked face.
The realization,"That work call yesterday was the trigger, wasn't it?" I queried, piecing together the puzzle of her sudden retreat.
"Yeah, it just took me to a place I couldn't escape from," Naomi confessed, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. “Do you think I’m weak?”
Hearing her fear of being perceived as weak stirred something in me.
"Weak? Not at all, Naomi. Look, I had to rely on meds to get through my divorce. Do you think I’m weak?"
She shook her head, and I knew we had reached an understanding.
"You know, just because this business failed, doesn't mean you are a failure, right?" I tilted my head, holding her gaze.
She tried to smile, but it felt fragile, breakable. "Then why does it feel that way?"
I smiled back, a gentle, understanding smile, "I have a feeling this business is more than just a business to you. It’s personal, isn't it?"
And so, she opened up some more, sharing the story of her Grandma Lorraine's entrepreneurial spirit and her magical talent for crafting homemade remedies. How she had infused her legacy into "Raine Drops," a hair growth oil that had blossomed from her small Brooklyn kitchen to an international sensation. Her voice held a mix of pride and sorrow as I spoke of my grandmother’s “growing hands” and the magic they worked, now encapsulated in my product.
"In just five years, it grew from a small market stall to this huge success. And then...” Her voice wavered, the pain of the memory fresh.
“My parents have been entrepreneurs my whole life. I’ve seen the highs and the lows, and I’ve experienced them myself. This business world…it might look glamorous on Instagram, but it’s anything but linear. It’s a roller coaster, full of stress and unexpected turns. Every successful entrepreneur has faced failures and setbacks. Honestly, Naomi, I think you're on your way to becoming an even greater success story than you realize.” I spoke with a sincerity that I hoped reached deep into her soul. “Even Beyoncé took some L’s in business.”
My words drew genuine laughter from her, a sound I was coming to realize was one I never wanted to go a day without hearing.
“You’re a part of the BeeHive, aren’t you?” she teased.
“But seriously”, I began chuckling, “ I know this is tough right now, but you will get through it. This isn’t the end of your story, Naomi. It’s just a chapter.”
Beneath those striking natural lashes, Naomi fixed me with that intense gaze, one I'd become familiar with in such a short span of time. It was as if she was scrutinizing me, wondering if I was too good to be real, a figment of her imagination crafted from hope or desperation.
"Do you always have the perfect words?" she inquired, a hint of wonder in her voice.
I couldn't help but smile, a touch of humility in my response. "Far from it," I admitted.
"We're not just trauma bonding, are we?", Naomi's light chuckle, broke the intensity of our exchange.
"More like two souls, connecting over shared experiences, mutual understanding and support," I mused, sharing in the laughter. "It's about seeing you, truly seeing you, acknowledging your struggles, and being here for you."
Naomi's smile, as she enjoyed her meal, was a reminder of the comfort found in being understood.
"That sense of being utterly alone, feeling like you have to carry your burdens in silence, it's what makes opening up feel like an insurmountable challenge," she shared, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that resonated deeply. "The fear of judgment, of someone using your honesty against you—it's paralyzing."
I nodded, fully relating, "Everyone's fighting their own battle, Naomi. And yeah, opening up often leads to judgment, to unwanted advice," I said, recalling the well-meaning but ultimately frustrating comments from those around me during my own turbulent times.
Silence enveloped us as we continued our meal, a comfortable quietude that lasted a few moments more before Naomi's voice softly pierced the stillness, "Caleb, I really appreciate this. Thank you for being here, for seeing me without judgment, for all the care you've given me."
Caught in the moment, my thoughts racing with an intensity that surprised even me, I found myself at a crossroads of vulnerability and restraint. Naomi's gratitude, her genuine confusion over my actions, forced me to confront emotions that seemed too deep, too rapid to fully comprehend.
I looked into her eyes, seeing the trust and connection building between us, and I knew. I knew that this was the start of something special, something real. And I was ready for it, ready for whatever came our way. Because something told me that Naomi was worth it, worth the risk, worth the vulnerability. And I was all in.
"I got you, Naomi," was all I managed at first, a simple phrase that carried the weight of my unspoken commitment to her well-being.
Her probing "Why?" demanded more, pushing me to articulate feelings I was still trying to understand myself.
As I met her gaze, seeing the mix of hope and fear reflected back at me, I realized the depth of the connection I felt towards her, a bond that defied the short time we'd known each other.
"I can't explain it," I started, honesty coloring my words. "It's like...from the second I saw you, something clicked. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel this pull towards you, a need to make sure you're okay, to see you smile, to hear your laugh. It's not about wanting something from you, Naomi. It's about wanting to be there for you, in any way you need."
"Tell me more" she stated, pushing me to the brink of confessing something deeper, something more profound than I had anticipated sharing so soon.
"I just...I felt something. A connection that I can't shake off," I finally conceded, words tumbling out in a rush of sincerity. "It's too soon to define it, I know. But whatever this is, I don't want to ignore it. I want to explore it, with you, if you're willing."
Naomi's gaze held mine with an intensity that seemed to draw out my deepest confessions.
"I reached out for you in prayer," I found myself revealing.
"You...you prayed for me?" Her voice carried a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"That's right...after that morning you left, I felt this void. So, I turned to prayer, hoping somehow it would bring you back into my life. And somehow, it did. You showed up again, right where I needed you to be."
Naomi looked at me in disbelief, mind going a mile per minute trying to process what I was saying. I broke our gaze, deciding to take a sip of water as the room heated up suddenly. I had so many questions I wanted to ask her but she’d been more vulnerable than ever tonights and had already shared so much, I was scared to push too hard, scared of her shutting down and possibly retreating back into herself.
“I would have gotten away with that one night stand if you were anybody else.”, she joked to break the seriousness of the moment.
I chuckled, finally looking back at her before I once again sunk into my seat. She wouldn’t take her eyes off me, studying me, searching for any sign of dishonesty I assumed but, there wasn’t an ounce of it in my heart. I wanted to spend more time with her and it was hard to front like I didn’t. She’d so easily coaxed what I was feeling out of me.
"That backpack of yours... it's not packed for an overnight stay, is it?", she asked her voice dipping into a sultrier tone.
I caught the hint of mischief in her eyes, but there was a subtle undertone of nervousness there too, as if she was laying her cards out on the table but wasn't sure of my hand.
I couldn't help but chuckle, her straightforwardness was one of the things I found most refreshing about her.
"Well, I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, so that wasn’t the plan," I admitted.
She let out a soft laugh, a mixture of relief and anticipation, "I mean, we've already crossed that bridge, haven't we? It wouldn't be weird."
There was a playful glint in her eyes, but her vulnerability was palpable.
I grinned, appreciating her candidness, "True, we have. But just for the record, I'm not just here for that. I'm here for you, Naomi. Whatever you need."
And as I said those words, I realized how much I meant them. I was here for her, in whatever way she needed me to be.
“I need you to stay, please.”, she said.
“Your wish is my command.”, I smirked.
Naomi pushed her seat back slightly from the table, and threw her right leg over the arm of the chair, revealing that perfect pussy that I’d had the pleasure of tasting and being inside of days ago. I watched her slowly move her left hand into her robe to reveal her nipples, using it to slowly caress and pinch them.
“And one more thing. I need you to fuck me, Caleb.”, she moaned eyes locked in mine.
Seeing Naomi’s bare breasts and her fingers tracing the lips of her pussy, sparked the beast in me. Yet, I hesitated. The turmoil she'd been navigating, the raw emotions she'd shared, and the layers she'd peeled back to reveal her true self to me—all of it gave me pause. Was this the moment to close the distance, or was it a time for patience, for giving her the space to heal?
“You sure it’s the right time for that?”, I said giving her an out.
“Are you denying me?”, she groaned.
“I’ll never deny you of what’s good for you.”
“You’re good for me.”, she moaned, sinking a finger instead of herself, biting her lips. “You only brought appetizers and entrees, don’t you want dessert”
Jesus Christ, she was testing my restraint and I didn’t have much of it left. Seeing her like this, hearing her beg me to fuck her, I couldn’t help but to bulge out of my boxers. Even if I wanted to deny her, my body was ready and standing at full attention.
“Take it out and stroke it for me, Caleb.”, she commanded as she started at my length painfully restrained in my underwear.
Unable to resist her like this. My dick was more than happy to be free, precum on the tip as it yearned to meet her entrance.
“Naomi…”, I moaned at the sight of her pleasing herself, calling me to her alter as my hand obeyed her command, “I won’t be able to be gentle with you starting me off like this, teasing me like this.”, I groaned inhaling the scent of her arousal as I continued to watch her fingers dance between her legs.
“Good”, she moaned licking her lips, “I’m about to cum, Caleb…I know you don’t want me to do it myself.”
“Don’t you dare.”, I warned her.
Her head tilted back, a silent display of relaxation, and I couldn't help but notice the muscles in her abdomen contracting. No way in Hell she was about to finish without me.
Suddenly, I stood up, the swift motion catching her off guard. Her head jerked up in surprise, eyes wide as she quickly refocused on me. I slapped her hand away from between her legs and picked her up out her chair, pushing her against the wall and securing her legs around me. I plunged into her in one fail swoop causing her to gasp.
“Shit, Caleb!”, she cried.
“I warned you”, I said kissing her neck, “This is what you wanted, now act like a Big Girl and take it.”
I leaned in, our lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it bridged years, not days, pouring into it all the longing and intensity that had built up between us, as I slide in and out of her.
"Let me hear you, Baby," I gently urged, noticing how she bit her lip, holding back her cries, with tears gathering in her eyes.
"Caleb!" she called out, as her body started to tremble, surrendering to an orgasm that I fucked her through until her body began to feel boneless.
“That’s it, Naomi…”, I encouraged her, “I got you”
She became quiet, her breaths deep and steady against my neck, relying on me to bear her weight. Gently, I moved us to the bed, positioning myself at its foot. As I carefully withdrew, she let out a sigh, heavy with emotion, as if she was suffering a great loss.
Before I could even catch my breath, she shifted into a stance on all fours, and shoved my length in her mouth. My head instinctively tipped back in response, a silent reaction to the sheer audacity and allure of her grin. Regaining my composure, I looked down at her again, watching her adjust to my size, marveling at how she embraced the moment with such confidence.
“Just like that.”, I groaned, encouraging her as I pilled her hair in my hands, “I told you I couldn’t be gentle tonight, I need you to deep throat this mother fucker, Naomi.”
She gagged as I slammed into the back of throat, fucking her face as saliva dripped from her mouth and her eyes began to water. I searched her face for discomfort but all I saw was determination as she moaned.
“You taste yourself on me? Huh? See how good you taste to me? So fucking good.”, I moaned.
And when she reached a hand between her legs to play with herself while she sucked me off, I almost lost it as she began to moan, the vibration of her mouth sending me to the fucking moon.
“I’m about to…I’m about to cum…and I don’t have a condom on…”, I groaned, trying to warn her in case swallowing wasn’t her thing.
But instead of stopping, she continued to let me move in and out of her mouth as she moved that hand from herself unto my balls.
“Good girl…good fucking girl…”, I groaned as I spilled into that pretty mouth of hers as she sucked every last drop of me, making my toes curl as I fought to keep my balance.
After she'd fully taken everything from me, I withdrew, finding myself retreating to the wall, my hand still cradling my dick as our eyes remained locked. It was a moment of raw astonishment, grappling with how this same person, who'd seemed so fragile not long ago, now had me reeling, gasping for dear life.
With a heavy silence surrounding us, I sought refuge in the bathroom, reaching for a face towel, letting it drink in the warmth of the running water. Returning to Naomi, I found her poised just as I left her, as if waiting for my instruction.
"Lean back for me," I murmured softly.
Obediently, she shifted, her gaze yielding, as I went on to clean up the traces of her tears, her saliva, my release.
She watched me with doe eyes as the warm cloth moved against her face and lips. When I was done, I gently grabbed her neck, pulling her to look up at me.
“The head you just gave me…it takes a lot of practice to get that good. I don’t care who else came before me, how many of them or how long you were with them, I’m your last. Understood?”, I asked still holding her.
She shook her head yes.
“I wanna hear you say it.”, I commanded.
“Yes.”
I smirked at her.
“Lay back and open up for me.”, I instructed next.
She complied without hesitation. Taking the cloth, I folded it carefully before gently wiping her sweet nectar clean. Then I guided her gently up the bed, making sure she was comfortable against the pillow, and tenderly laid her down. I draped the covers over her, ensuring her warmth and comfort, a silent promise of care and respect wrapped in the simple act of tucking her in.
"Goodnight," I offered quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as a seal to the day's end.
"Goodnight," she echoed back, her voice a faint murmur, eyes already succumbing to the weight of exhaustion that was evident in her eyes when I arrived.
After tidying up, I caught my own gaze in the mirror while washing my hands. There, staring back, was a man fully aware he was stepping onto a path from which he didn't want to veer, yet fully cognizant of the hurdles that lay ahead. Naomi's strength had revealed itself alongside a tenderness that felt as though it could easily be overshadowed by her resilience. Tonight, she'd allowed me a glimpse into her vulnerability, and I was determined to navigate the complexities of encouraging her to keep that door open.
I checked my tendency to leap too far ahead mentally, wrestling with the possibilities of her departure post-retreat. The mere thought tightened my chest with apprehension, prompting a swift mental redirection. I resolved to cherish each moment, harboring a quiet hope that Naomi would come to see what we were building as more than a temporary connection.
Crawling into bed beside her, I tapped The Big Man Upstairs for another favor, hoping for a divine nod that what was unfolding between us was meant for more than just these fleeting weeks.
The thought of life post-Naomi was unimaginable, a future I wasn't ready to face. In that quiet, shadow-filled room, I held onto the hope that this was just the beginning.
