Peeling Back the Top Layer 🇯🇲

32| Indulge

Gillian finally meets Chaunard and the first two things she asks are what he does for a living and what his intentions are with me.

I swear she thinks she's our mother sometimes. I know she means well but it comes across as a bit abrasive and arrogant. He doesn't seem to mind though.

"I'm a software engineer and I intend on being a decent gentleman to your friend," he responds without a lengthy explanation.

That sufficiently satisfies her curiosity and seems to put a pause to her probing. I'm most certain that she will be asking Marsha to tell her everything that she knows about him when they're in the car. That's if she didn't already.

"Well, I hope you are a man of your word. It was nice to finally meet you," is all she says and shakes his hand before going through the gate.

"Cyaa get enough a di good D, don't? Have fun fi di two a we," Marsha whispers in my ear when she's leaving, making me laugh. For someone who has never had dick, she certainly talks like a bedroom expert.

"Bye Chaunard! We'll talk Kelz," yells Gillian as she is entering the vehicle. We wave goodbye to them then return to the house, where I lock up before going to the kitchen.

The parcel of seasoned chicken that I took from the freezer earlier is now fully thawed. Dinner this evening will be curried chicken and plain rice with a serving of steamed vegetable — an easy fix.

Chaunard walks up to me at the counter and wraps his arms around my waist then buries his face in the crook of my neck.

"Yuh nuh bathe from mawnin, don't?" he asks.

I chuckle at his observation. "Stop sniff me. A tell yuh a try tell mi seh mi stink?"

"No man. Yuh nuh stink but yuh smell sweaty and yuh skin feel sticky."

"Yet yuh still a put yuh mouth pon mi skin," I squirm when he nips the skin on my neck.

"What yuh cooking?" he asks.

"Curry chicken and rice. You eat already?"

"Nope. Mek mi do di cooking and you gwaan go bathe," he offers. I point out to him where to find the pots and everything else he might need then pick up the remainder of the laundry from outside before taking a shower.

The scent of food wafts through the house and into my bedroom while I'm getting dressed. I don't know if it's because I wasn't the one who cooked but the curry smells damn good. It takes me by the chin and lures me to the kitchen, where I pause for a minute, or however long it actually takes, to appreciate God's goodness.

Chaunard cooking in my kitchen is such a marvelous sight to behold. He looks and smells good, he can hold a conversation, he can cook, he knows how to fuck, and most importantly, he's all mine.

"You ago stop eye fuck me at any point?" he asks, pulling me out of my daze.

I quickly close my lips into a tight smile and give him the side eye, not sure how to respond since he did catch me ogling.

Dinner is as tasty as it smells, compliments to the chef. I quickly tidy up when we're done eating, while he scrolls through Netflix trying to find something we can watch together since we both have different tastes in movies. I don't know how well this will work.

"How did you learn to cook so well? Did Miss Jay teach you?" I ask, positioning myself between his legs — my back against his chest — where he's stretched on the couch. He sets the TV remote to the side and takes a sip from his Guinness bottle.

"Not really enuh but it's because of her mi did affi learn."

"Oh. So what happen? She can't cook?"

"No, not that," he chuckles. "She used to always a work so as the older one me used to try look after food fi me and my sister. Di first time mi try cook chicken mi bun up di pot so after dat she tell me how fi adjust di fire under the pot and how much water fi put. It tek mi a while but mi start mange on my own and she leave me to it."

"Ohhh. So you are kind of a natural?"

"I wouldn't say that. Mi jus get nuff practice and mi try recipes from other countries. Dat help mi learn which flavors work better together."

"I'm glad you can cook. It really is nice to have somebody else cooking for me."

"Yuh sure a nuh because yuh cyaa cook?" he jokes.

I slap him playfully. "I'll have you know that other people love my cooking. Jus wait till yuh taste it."

"Mi can tell seh yuh know how fi do yuh ting man and I'm looking forward to when you cook for me," he whispers, kissing my cheek.

"Before I forget again... thanks for the bracelet. I like it and I like what it represents," I turn to kiss him properly, rolling over onto my stomach and facing him.

"You're welcome." When our lips touch, he reaches for my ass and pulls me up to straddle his slim waist.

"No. Yuh fuck too much," I protest when his hands slide under my shorts and squeezes the naked flesh.

"So you come out here wid yuh breast dem exposed, half a yuh batty outta door and then yuh eye fuck me and a guh tell me seh me fuck too much? When a you a tease me?" he asks.

I snicker at his comment on my clothing — a tank top and short cotton shorts — and then sink back into the kiss, which inflames my already high libido. His phone ringing interrupts us and I move to give him some space but he holds me in place and answers.

"Talk faas," he picks up. The male on the other end says something about Montego Bay and he says, "Yeah. Mi can fawud but mi a drive my car. Mi nuh deh pon di fuckery wid yuh."

"Ah," he says then hangs up.

"Marco want mi follow him go pick up him woman a MoBay early Satdeh," he tells me.

"Kool."

"Him a real fuckery enuh. Last time mi follow him go Bay a him drive fi him car. We lef Kingston pon half tank a gas and by we reach weh wi a go di needle almost deh pon E. Mi show di man and tell him seh mek we put some gas inna di car.

"Mi even offer fi buy and him cuss mi out and seh him know him car and di gas enough fi carry we go back a Kingston. Yuh see when we reach near di Spanish Town exit a di toll, di car nuh do nutten more dan shut off," he shakes his head while I'm cracking up.

"So yuh come out and push?" I ask between laughs.

"Who? Push wah?" he hisses his teeth. "Him mek two call and smaddy carry a bokkle a gas come gi wi. Di worse part was dat a inna di night. Is a lucky ting nuh body nuh rob or shoot we."

I'm laughing hysterically at his ordeal. Sometimes it's not what he says, it's how he says it and his attitude with it that I find amusing.

"Di bredda embarrassing sometime man," he hisses again.

I roll off his chest, still laughing, and make dash for the bathroom. My bladder is full and all the laughing I'm doing isn't helping me delay peeing.

"Yuh done laugh?" he asks when I return better composed.

"How yuh waa gi mi joke and nuh expect mi fi laugh?"

"It wasn't a joke. A serious sumn mi a tell yuh. Yuh laugh too much," he chuckles, emptying his bottle and putting it on the floor.

"Alright, I'm sorry you had to go through that. Hush," I smile, climbing back on top of him. My hands slip under his shirt and I nip at the skin along his chest through the material, creating a trail up to his lips, which wait patiently to be reconnected with mine.

When we kiss again he hardens between my thighs and I roll my pelvis to create some friction against my eager flesh throbbing excitedly in anticipation of his touch.

"And den yuh seh me fuck too much," he smirks.