“So…we’re going to church?”
I smirked despite myself. “Don’t push it.”
“Fine. I’ll behave.”
My voice dropped. “You better, because if you act up, even once, you won’t get another chance to make a fool of me. I’ll lock you down so tight you’ll forget what fresh air feels like.”
She was quiet again. Then: “Noted,” she said. “But Khalil?”
“What?”
“You didn’t have to threaten me. You could’ve just said you missed me and wanted to see my pretty face.”
“I didn’t,” I lied, though I couldn’t stop thinking about the faces she made when I devoured her.
“Mmm.” She was grinning—I could hear it. “Whatever, just tell whoever’s coming to let me know when they’re close. I want to be outside when they get here,” she said before hanging up.
I stared at the phone, the lingering echo of her voice curling in the back of my mind like smoke. I still wasn’t sure if inviting her tonight was a mistake, but it was already in motion. She better not show out.
Half an hour later, Felicity walked into the club like she was headlining a music video, and I stood the second I spotted her. All eyes snapped to her—men, women, even security stopped pretending to work. One thing about her was that she didn’t just turn heads. She broke necks.
She wore a cropped black leather corset top that hugged her breasts like it was holding on for dear life. Her waist was bare, pierced with a tiny gold “V” charm dangling from her belly button, drawing attention to the chocolate skin beneath. Below that, a pair of skin-tight black leather shorts, high-cut and cheeky in the back, fit like they were painted on. A chain belt draped low across her hips, clinking softly every time she moved.
Her thigh-high boots were gold metallic, with a dagger heel and a sharp toe. A cropped Balenciaga puffer jacket slipped off her shoulders just enough to show off the goods, but never enough to cover them. A thick Cuban link chain hugged her neck, and her oversized bamboo earrings announced her presence before she even spoke.
Her lips were lined to perfection, glossed and full. Her hair was bone-straight, jet-black, parted deeply on the side with soft, body waves cascading down her back. Her edges were laid, and her face was beat like rent was due. And that attitude? It was untouchable.
She didn’t walk in like she hoped she’d be noticed. She walked in like shedaredyou to look away. Felicity didn’t come to sip quietly or play the background. She came to shut shit down.
I groaned the second I saw her. Of course, she did the opposite of what I told her. She had one job—look presentable and keep the attention to a minimum, but Felicity was going to be her, whether I liked it or not. And I liked it, but I didn’t want thirsty ass niggas admiring what was supposed to belong to me.
When Felicity saw me standing near the entrance to the VIP section, a smirk curved her lips like she already knew I was about to say something. Stepping down, I strolled toward her with my hands in my pockets and a toothpick hanging from between my lips. When we finally met in the middle of the floor, her eyes did a quick sweep of me, and she nodded in approval.
“You just can’t do what I tell you to do, huh?” I asked, my eyes sweeping over her the same way she’d done me.
She arched a brow, playing innocent. “What? You told me to get dressed.”
“I also said to cover up.”
She gave a soft, breathy laugh. “And I did. No pussy, ass, or nipples are showing. You didn’t say anything about anything else.”
“You knew what the hell I meant. You just like testing me to see how far I’ll let you go.” I grabbed her hand, making her twirl around in front of me. “And you lied about the ass. I see chocolate cheeks.”
“Only a peep. Stop acting like it’s a thong.” She giggled, and the sound was so joyful it made me ease up a little.
“It is,” I groaned as I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers, holding on tight enough that she couldn’t pull away, but soft enough that it looked natural.
She blinked, a little surprised. “What are you doing?”
“Making it real clear who you’re here with.”
Her smirk deepened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in closer, holding onto my arm as she let me lead her to the section.
When we stepped into the section, conversation dulled to a low hum. My family's gaze was already upon us, even before a word was exchanged. They were observing, evaluating, and comparing her to every unspoken standard we held. At least, that's what the men did. I couldn't quite discern the thoughts of the women.
Sophia was the first to break the silence. "Hello," she uttered, barely lifting her eyes from her drink.
Her tone was flat and indifferent. She was clearly lit, and her attitude toward Felicity had been dry as hell. I noticed it the second she opened her mouth. Normally, I wouldn’t let that shit fly. I didn’t care who you were—if you expected respect, you gave it, and Sophia knew that. However, tonight, I let it go. She was drunk, and being her usual overprotective self, always ready to sniff out a threat, whether one existed or not. Still, she was toeing the line.
