LOVE ON THE BALLOT: An Election Night Novella

Election night might have been a national event, but for Marz, the real campaign was winning the heart of one woman who’s been dodging him all year.

Author’s Note:

Hey y’all! Happy Election Day! I know tonight’s a whole mix of tension and anticipation as we wait on those results, so I figured, why not offer a little escape? For those of you curious about what the citizens of Westonberry are up to tonight, I’ve got a standalone novella here for you—no ongoing chapters this time, just a one-shot to dive into and enjoy.

Some familiar faces might pop up—Jade and Akil from PROMISE make an appearance, so if you’ve read my Labor Day story, you’ll catch a little nod to them. Sit back, relax, and take a breather from the real world with this story. And remember, no matter the outcome tonight, you’re a co-creator in your destiny… just ask Shamar.

Once you're done, drop a comment and let me know how you liked it. Enjoy! ❤️

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SHAMAR ‘MARZ” HOLLIS

If Akil and Jade wasn’t good for anything else in this world, they sure knew how to throw a party.

Didn’t matter what day was marked on the calendar—Labor Day, Halloween, hell, National Ice Cream Day—Akil and Jade would find a reason, or invent one, to get folks over to the house.

The night Akil closed on this place, he had a housewarming, and that was before a single piece of furniture hit the floor. Then Akil met Jade last year, a woman who matched his party spirit with her own love for hosting, like some divine pairing of two people who never needed a quiet night in. These days, she even ran her own supper club on their rooftop, keeping their home the epicenter of social life.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I was glad to see my boy settled with someone as solid as Jade. But somehow, every time they decided to throw one of their infamous get-togethers, I got pulled right into the middle of it. It was like folks completely forgot I’d left my culinary career behind and was running a barbershop now. Yet somehow, the second Akil and Jade started planning a party, they had me behind the grill or posted up in the kitchen with Jade, turning me into their personal chef.

But truth was, I didn’t mind. Akil was my boy, through and through. We’d been tight ever since the first time I cut his hair fifteen years ago, a connection that stuck like family. And now that Jade was in the picture, making herself a permanent fixture in his life, there wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her, either. They were my people, and no amount of last-minute cooking requests could change that.

“Oh my God, Marz! Those steaks smell so good!” Jade’s voice cut through the rooftop chatter, warm and full of excitement as she came up the stairs, balancing a tray of corn destined for the grill.

I couldn’t help but grin, flipping one of the steaks, the sizzle loud and satisfying, the scent rising to make everyone’s mouth water. “You know how I do, Jade. Quit playin’!”

Akil glanced over, his smile flashing under the backyard lights as he finished setting up despite folks already arriving. “Aye, hey, quit flirtin’ with my woman!”

“Ain’t nobody flirtin’. That’s my sis.” I threw a glance at Jade and added, “Thick as hell, though. Bet you fightin’ for your life every time she steps out without you, man.”

Akil just shook his head, his grin wide and unbothered, the look of a man who knew he’d hit the jackpot.

“Keep messin’ around,” he said, voice full of mock warning. “I’ll throw you on that grill next.”

I raised my hands, laughing. “And you’d be the first to pull me off before I even got a char!”

“Right, babe,” Jade said, leaning over to kiss Akil on the cheek. “If anything happened to Marz, you’d be the first one crying.”

Akil rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Whatever,” but the warmth in his eyes said it all.

"Anyway, Jade, my wife Bryelle coming tonight, right?” I leaned in, keeping it casual while trying to hide the grin that crept in whenever I thought about that fine-ass friend of hers.

Bryelle loved to act like she wasn’t feeling me, but I’d seen the look in her eyes, the way she lit up every time we got into one of our playful back-and-forths. Sure, tonight might be election night for the country, but my campaign? My campaign was laser-focused on winning the heart of one person, and one person only.

We’d been doing this dance for over a year now—her playing hard to get, me letting her think she could keep me at arm’s length. But tonight, I was done playing. Any minute now, that 5’6” stunner with skin like caramel, golden locs cascading over her shoulders, and lips painted the brightest, boldest red would be walking in. I could picture it clear as day: one of her favorite concert tees, layered with funky jewelry, her style loud and unapologetic. And me? I was ready.

Jade shot me a look, one eyebrow raised, clearly amused but resigned. She knew damn well what the night was about to bring—the usual sparks and sidelong glances between me and Bryelle.

“Yeah, she’ll be here,” she sighed, already bracing herself for the chaos. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

I leaned back, smirking. “So tell me, Jade, she don’t want me, or is she just hooked on the chase?”

“She says she’s not looking to date right now,” Jade replied, casting a side-eye my way as if laying down the law. “But with Bryelle? Who knows. She’s kept things lowkey since her last breakup, so it’s hard to tell.”

“Man, she’s just not interested in you,” Akil chimed in, a smug grin on his face. “She just doesn’t wanna say it.”

“Y’all lying,” I shot back, waving off their comments. They could talk all they wanted. I knew Bryelle wanted me, whether she was ready to admit it or not.

Jade rolled her eyes, clearly done with the conversation, and went back to straightening a perfectly placed red, white, and blue table setting that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Tonight is a very important night in our country’s history. Let’s focus on that,” she said, standing back to admire her work.

I had to admit, the setup was clean. But while she was focused on the state of the nation, my thoughts were already locked on Bryelle James - one day, Hollis. And the moment she walked on this roof, I’d be ready for the games she was about to start playing, knowing full well that this time, I was playing to win.

---

BRYELLE JAMES

Jade and Akil stayed throwing parties like it was a full-time job. Didn’t matter if it was the middle of the week, if we all had things to do in the morning, or even if the rest of us didn’t feel like celebrating. If they could find an excuse to pop bottles, they’d be sending out invites. So here I was, dragged out on a Tuesday night for an election party of all things. Sure, tonight was important, but I’d already done my civic duty, voted early, and kept my head down through the mess that came with election season. Social media was a minefield, friendships were on thin ice, and family dinners were a mess—but at the end of it all, no new president was about to magically fix my overdue rent. Tomorrow, I’d still be back in the shop, grinding to keep the lights on.

My feet were screaming. The kind of deep ache that settled in after hours standing and twisting goddess locs until my hands went numb. Last thing I wanted was to be out here, mingling and smiling, but Jade had been there for me from day one, no questions asked. So here I was, planning to at least grab a plate, find a quiet corner, and avoid spending money on fast food that didn’t fill you up anyway.

The rooftop was alive with heavy bass and chatter, lights strung up against the night sky like stars, casting a warm glow over the crowd. And the minute I stepped onto that rooftop, a familiar voice cut through the music.

"Oh shit! There go my wife!"

I rolled my eyes so hard I might’ve sprained something. This man. Couldn’t even slide out to a random Tuesday night event without him showing up, flashing that perfect, heartbreaker smile like he was a damn model on a magazine cover. Marz—smooth skin, chiseled jaw, arms that practically begged to be noticed without trying. He knew exactly what he was working with, too. Everybody in Westonberry had probably taken a ride on that train, which meant I was staying clear of it.

"Shamar, don’t speak to me," I said, brushing past him like I was on a mission. But, of course, he caught my hand—gentle, but with enough hold to make me pause.

"Oh, it’s ‘Shamar’ now?" he asked, that smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, his eyes dancing like he already knew he’d won.

"Mr. Hollis. Please. You’re touching me," I shot back, giving him a once-over that should’ve said loud and clear, don’t start tonight.

Unbothered, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his grip warm against my hand. "You look pretty, Bryelle. Got that signature red lip on and everything.”

I shook my head, trying not to smile. "I know I’m pretty, Marz. I look just like my mama."

"Your mama fine as you? Let me see a picture so I know what I’ll be waking up to in a few decades.”

"Boy..." I sighed so deep, trying to pull away, but his hand lingered, warm and solid.

He just grinned wider. "Aye, look, I say we make a bet tonight."

"A bet?" I arched a brow, not bothering to hide the skepticism.

"If Kamala wins, you let me take you on a date."

I narrowed my eyes, unimpressed. "And if Trump wins, you’ll finally leave me the hell alone?"

He chuckled, that low, rumbling laugh that probably got him out of more trouble than it should. "Nah. I’m still taking you out. So really, it’s a win for you either way."

I snatched my hand back, clicking my tongue as I turned to walk away. "Stupid."

"Did you even eat today?" he asked, not giving a single damn about the edge in my tone. His eyes pinned me in place, reading me too well. "Or you skipped lunch again, packed in as many clients as you could?"

His words cut, sharp and knowing, making me itch with irritation. As a barber, he understood this grind better than most—the hours on your feet, the ache that sank deep into your bones, the way your hands cramped up until you had to shake them out just to keep going. He got it in a way most people didn’t. And yeah, I hadn’t eaten, just like he figured. Times were hard, and every second, every dollar counted.

"So you didn’t eat," he muttered, shaking his head before I could even muster a lie. "Go on, sit down with your friends. I’ll bring you a plate."

"You swear you know me," I shot back, folding my arms tight across my chest, but he just smirked, shrugging it off like he had me all figured out.

"I can damn near see your ribs through that shirt, hungry ass."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "You can’t see a damn thing. You don’t even know what I want on my plate anyway."

He gave me a long look, undeterred. "I know what you want, Bryelle. Now go on, sit your ass down somewhere while I fix you a plate. Starving yourself, getting on my damn nerves." He waved me off, like he had this under control and I was just another part of the evening he was handling.

And as much as I wanted to keep fighting him on it, I felt myself soften, just a little. I couldn’t stand his ass.

Rolling my eyes, I sucked my teeth and strolled over to the table where Jade and a few others were gathered, laughter and conversation flowing easy between them.

"Look who finally made it!" Jade called, flashing a bright smile as she stood to pull me into a hug. "You know most folks here," she nodded toward the familiar faces, "but I don’t think you’ve met Zara and Ayanna yet."

I greeted them both, my smile growing as they stood to hug me like we were already old friends. They smelled like old money—rich, warm, and luxurious. Zara, tall and elegant, had this effortless confidence about her, the kind that made people stop and look. She was practically Westonberry royalty, her family name carrying a weight that didn’t need explaining. And Ayanna, her girlfriend—well, if the shop talk had it right, she was the girlfriend to both Zara and her husband—matched her with a striking, self-assured beauty that radiated in a way you couldn’t ignore.

Jade, having gotten laid off her tech job, had started a supper club full-time, which helped her to move up the local social circles, and it showed. She was glowing, comfortable among this crowd of polished, put-together women. Meanwhile, I felt like I’d snuck into a world I didn’t quite belong in.

But I was here, and my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten all day. And judging by the way Marz was watching me from across the rooftop, I knew he was about to bring me a plate piled with exactly what he knew I needed.

“I’m guessing that’s your boyfriend?” Ayanna asked, a sly smile curling at her lips as I took a seat.

I followed her gaze and caught Marz’s eye again. He was watching me with that intense, brooding look, like he was auditioning for some kind of dark, mysterious role. Made me think of that pale White boy in Twilight, but with all the rich, deep caramel of Marz’s skin and those dark, knowing eyes that seemed to see way too much.

“Girl, no,” I scoffed, waving it off like he was nothing. “That’s just one of Akil’s little friends.” Dismissive. Unbothered. As if my heart wasn’t doing things it had no business doing.

Zara and Ayanna exchanged a knowing look, laughter bubbling up between them.

“Well,” Zara said, her voice laced with intrigue, “looks like the election results might not be the most interesting thing happening here tonight. Glad I came out.” Her words carried a teasing edge, and I couldn’t help but laugh along, the warmth of it spreading through our little circle.

Right on cue, Marz appeared beside me, setting down a plate that made my stomach clench in anticipation. I hadn’t eaten all day, and this man clearly knew his way around a grill. My mouth practically watered just looking at it, and he’d even brought an Izze—grapefruit, my favorite.

"You better clean that plate," he said in that low, smooth tone, already turning to walk away like he had nothing left to prove.

I could’ve fired off some smart comeback, but hunger had other plans. Instead, I picked up a fork, ignoring the knowing looks and smirks around the table as I dug in, barely pausing to breathe.

The laughter swirled around me, a warm hum, but my focus was fixed on the food and, just maybe, on the thought that Marz knew me a little too well for comfort.

---

SHAMAR ‘MARZ” HOLLIS

“Look!” Akil called out, waving his third Heineken like he was delivering a sermon from the mountaintop. “All I’m saying is, whatever the results are tonight, everybody better keep it respectful!” His voice carried over the rooftop, cutting through the laughter and clinking glasses. We were all gathered up now, plates loaded, the party in full swing while a portable TV in the corner played CNN, casting a faint, pulsing glow over the crowd.

“Please,” Fallon drawled, flashing a wicked grin. “We probably all voted for the same person…except for Roger’s Braxton P. Hartnabrig lookin’ ass.” Her eyes slid over to Roger, setting up her jab like a pro, and the rest of us followed her gaze. There he was, standing awkwardly in his checked shirt and khakis, looking like he’d just wandered off the set of The Jamie Foxx Show.

Laughter broke out like wildfire, a ripple through the crowd that left Roger leaning back, arms crossed, his face flushing a shade redder than his flannel.

“Man, fuck y’all!” he shot back, taking a long swig of his beer, trying to drown out the heat. “You can’t just look at a person and know who they voted for. Whatever happened to keeping that private?”

Fallon raised an eyebrow, her smirk unbothered. “Well, you’re kind of at an election party, Braxton.” Her words hit like a second punchline, and we all doubled over, laughter rolling out into the night air as Roger gave us a grudging smile, shaking his head but finally letting himself join in on the joke.

Tone jumped in, lifting his bottle like it was a peace offering. “Doesn’t matter who anyone voted for, long as we showed up and cast the damn vote. Ain’t gonna change much anyway. Come tomorrow, I still gotta take my Black ass down to that school and teach them kids.”

“Yes, the hell it matters!” Sabbie shot back, her voice slicing through the rooftop chatter like a razor. “There are lines I don’t cross, and some beliefs? Non-negotiable. If we don’t see eye to eye on certain things, you’re just not my people, plain and simple. Trash is trash.”

The energy shifted, laughter thinning out as her words settled over us like an unexpected cold front. Everyone went quiet, glancing at the TV where early numbers flickered across the screen, but that weight, that tension? It wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what those numbers said.

“I’m with Sabbie,” Bryelle added, her voice strong and clear, but with an edge that could cut. “Some issues go way beyond politics. If we’re not aligned on them, it’s not just a difference of opinion—it’s life or death.”

I felt her words ripple through me, and before I knew it, I was nodding, chiming in. “Yeah.” It was instinctual, siding with her, the truth of it settling into the air like smoke.

She turned to me, a spark of challenge in her gaze, suspicion tightening her expression as she propped one hand on her hip. “And what exactly are you so passionate about, Marz? What lines you standing on?”

“Amendment 4,” I replied without hesitation, my voice steady. “I don’t think the government has the right to tell a woman what she can or can’t do with her own body. Especially when it comes to abortion.”

She raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Of course that’d be important to you,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “How many times you had to pay for one? I’m sure that’s top of your priorities.”

Her words hit like a gut punch, sharp and unfiltered, cutting right to the bone.

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “Yeah, it is important to me. Women’s reproductive rights matter—deeply. I’ve got four sisters, and three of them went through miscarriages. I can’t imagine losing one of them because a doctor couldn’t, or wouldn’t, intervene if it came to that. And it’s not just them. It’s my nieces, too, as they grow up. Black women already face the highest maternal mortality rate in this country. How could I just stand back, knowing that? Not fight to protect them?” I looked her dead in the eye. “Anyone who doesn’t care enough to see that, to educate themselves on it—that’s basically saying they don’t give a damn about women. And I take that personally.”

The room stilled, a heavy silence falling as my words lingered. Bryelle’s gaze held mine, softened by something that looked like understanding, the sharpness in her eyes receding.

“And for the record,” I added, meeting her steady stare, “I’ve never had to pay for any abortions. I’m a grown-ass man who knows how to use protection and discipline.”

Before I could say more, Jade’s voice sliced through the tension as she burst back onto the rooftop, oblivious to the conversation she’d just interrupted.

“Oh my God! I need more ice!” she squealed, hands in the air like she’d just realized she’d lost a winning lottery ticket. “Can someone run out and grab some?”

“I’ll go!” Bryelle announced, maybe a little quicker than she’d meant to trying to escape the foot in her mouth.

“You can’t—I’m blocking you in,” Marcus said with a shrug, his words already loosening from the drinks he’d knocked back. “And I’m not going down there to move it. I’m drunk as shit already,” he slurred, waving his empty bottle in the air for emphasis.

His grin was lazy, his eyes a little glazed, and he looked about as capable of moving his car as he was of running a marathon. Bryelle glanced at him, then back at me, her expression torn between irritation and resignation.

Now, any other guy might’ve stayed salty over Bryelle’s jab, but me? Nah. This was an opportunity, and I wasn’t about to let a little dig throw me off. I was back on my game in an instant, dangling my keys like a lifeline. “I’ll drive you, Bry. Parked just down the block. Let’s go, Gorgeous.”

Her eyes flickered over to Jade and Akil, clearly hoping one of them might offer her an out.

But Akil stepped in, backing me up like only a real friend would. “Yea! Honestly, I’d feel better if Marz went with you. It’s Election Night—things could get a little tense out there. Better to have a man with you, keep an eye out in case things get crazy.”

Bryelle’s eyebrow shot up. “Get crazy? In Westonberry?”

“You remember those fires in Juniper over the summer, right?” Akil replied smoothly. “An arsonist was running loose, and it was dead quiet out there, too. Better safe than sorry.”

Without another word, Bryelle let out a small sigh, shook her head, and started down the stairs, her footsteps echoing against the concrete.

“Bring your ugly ass on, Marz!” she called over her shoulder, the hint of a challenge in her voice.

I couldn’t help but grin, chasing after her. “Right behind you, my wife,” I shot back.

I couldn’t hide my grin, feeling like I’d just hit the jackpot. I gave Akil a quick salute before I headed down the stairs, and he returned it with a look that warned, Don’t fuck this up.

Jade swatted him playfully, realizing what he’d just set in motion, but I was all smiles. Election results? Forget it. All that mattered was getting Bryelle alone. This was the moment I’d been waiting for, a chance to see what could really happen between us.

---

BRYELLE JAMES

“When we get married, you gonna hyphenate your last name or just be Bryelle Hollis? Can’t say I love James-Hollis, but I’ll rock with it if it’s important to you.”

Marz’s ridiculous question hung in the air, and I whipped my head around to glare at him. He was leaned back in the driver’s seat of his gleaming BMW, one hand draped over the wheel, a grin as wide as the open road stretching ahead.

I rolled my eyes, letting them linger on the window as another gas station blurred by. “You’ve passed, like, eight gas stations, Marz.”

He didn’t even flinch. “I’m goin’ to Westonberry Market.”

“What? That’s damn near by the beach. Practically the other side of town.”

“Jade said that’s where they got the best ice.”

I shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “The best ice? Marz, I swear, I will take this wheel and drive us both off the road. Ice is ice—there’s no ‘best’ ice. Jade didn’t say a word about Westonberry Market, you liar!”

But he didn’t even spare me a glance, that lazy, cocky grin still in place as his eyes stayed locked on the road, like he was on some mission I couldn’t understand.

I huffed, crossing my arms. “You know what? You’ve officially kidnapped me. I’m calling the police.” I patted my pockets in mock desperation, pretending to search for my phone. Marz just chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like he knew exactly what game he was playing and had no plans of stopping.

“You play too damn much, Bryelle.” He shook his head, but the hint of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, telling me he was enjoying every second of this little back-and-forth. I tried to act unfazed, but my eyes kept wandering over to him—the way he gripped the wheel with one hand, steering like it was second nature. The man handled that car with an ease that made me think he could take it anywhere, and I wouldn’t mind being along for the ride, no matter where it ended.

“Please, you’re the one playing,” I shot back, my voice cool even though my pulse betrayed me. “Acting all calm like you didn’t just drag me halfway across town against my will.”

He laughed, a deep, knowing sound, glancing at me long enough to let the tension build. “Play all damn day, Bryelle. But you’re about to lose,” he said, shaking his head, that cocky grin spreading wider.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning in. “Last I checked, you couldn’t even win a game of Uno without whining over some imaginary conspiracy.”

“That’s because y’all cheat!” he shot back, eyes narrowing in mock offense. “No way someone’s always pulling Draw Fours like that. You must have a whole deck stashed up your sleeve.” He threw me a side-eye, shifting gears with a smooth confidence that only made his grin grow wider.

“Oh, right, the world’s out to get Marz during game night,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But for the record, if I did have cards up my sleeve, you’d never know until you were losing.”

He let out a deep laugh, tapping his fingers on the wheel in rhythm with his amusement. “Is that right? Maybe that’s why you’re sitting here now, all cute and indignant, being driven all over town for some ice and can’t do a damn thing about it.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms tighter. “’Cute and indignant,’ huh? You got jokes. I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to survive this little hostage situation without catching a case.”

He leaned back, that grin turning a shade more dangerous. “Oh, trust me, Gorgeous. You’re in safe hands. But by the time this drive is over, don’t be surprised if you’re the one begging me to keep going.”

And just like that, he had me—trapped somewhere between wanting to fight him off and secretly hoping he’d keep the wheels turning all night long.

"Did you not hear me? Hostage situation," I repeated, crossing my arms tighter. "Why would I want to be trapped with you, driving me all the way to Guam or wherever you’re headed?"

He slowed the car, giving me a sideways glance filled with that same mischief that made trouble feel like a promise. "Oh, you want to go there?" His grin spread as he leaned back, feigning thoughtfulness. "Let’s start with my cooking. You inhaled that plate I fixed you like it was your last meal."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, yeah, you can throw down. But I hadn’t eaten all day. I’d have given the same treatment to a $5 Little Caesars."

"Right. Then there’s the fact I let you run that mouth every time we hang out, and I’m still sitting here grinning," he said, leaning in just enough to make my pulse skip. "Most guys? They’d be walking out. You know that."

"Oh, please," I shot back, trying to hide my smile. "I could find plenty of people who’d listen to me."

He just shook his head, chuckling like he knew something I didn’t. "Good luck with that, Bry. Something tells me those other guys wouldn’t keep up half as well as I do."

I bit my lip, fighting back a laugh, even as he pressed the gas, the car humming low and steady beneath us. I hated to admit it, but the man was right.

"When am I gonna get a chance to cook for you—just us two?" Marz’s voice softened, that smooth confidence turning down to a murmur as his eyes drifted to mine. "Candlelight, dinner, the whole nine yards."

I shook my head, arms crossed tight like armor. "Marz, you need to leave that fantasy alone. Half the women in Westonberry have been through your rotation. I’m not trying to be the next one on the list."

He shot me a look, innocent as sin. "Who said that?"

"Every girl who steps foot in the shop, that’s who." I met his gaze head-on. "They all got stories to tell. As far as I’m concerned, Marz, you’re more ran through than the freeway at rush hour."

He raised his eyebrows, the words hitting hard. "Ran through?" His voice was low, dripping with a disbelief that cut sharper than any laugh. "Wow. Really, Bry?"

For a split second, I almost regretted saying it. His face shifted, the cockiness slipping as something raw flickered across his expression—shock, hurt, maybe both. Marz looked like I’d tossed something sharp into his chest, left him momentarily without words, and it hit harder than I expected.

I let my voice drop, my tone softening. "That’s just what they say, Marz. All I know is every other week, there’s a new story, a new girl. I’m not trying to end up another chapter."

He didn’t respond right away, didn’t shoot back with a line or a smirk. His gaze stayed on the road, his hands gripping the wheel, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he stared straight ahead, his silence heavier than I’d ever felt from him.

"People talk, Bryelle,” he finally said, his voice a low, steady rumble that held more than a hint of something raw. “Especially around those shop chairs. You, of all people, should know half of what folks say ain’t true.” His eyes stayed on the road, but there was something quiet in them, something vulnerable, almost hurt. A side of Marz I hadn’t seen before.

I took a breath, steadying myself. “Look,” I started, my voice firm, even though my heart was kicking up a storm in my chest. “I’ve been down that road before. Got with guys who had the ‘player’ rep, thinking I’d be the one to change them. Thought maybe I was different, that I’d get an exemption. Every time, it ended the same—I got played like everyone else. And I’m not putting myself through that again. Especially not with someone who’s my best friend’s fiancé’s best friend. I’d still have to see you at every damn party they throw.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, his hand gripping the wheel tighter, knuckles white against the leather. “Yeah, I flirt, and yeah, I talk a lot of shit. I take women out, sure—but I’m not out here running through every woman in Westonberry. I don’t play with my health or my heart like that, Bryelle. So despite what you heard, that’s not me.” His voice had an edge, like he was trying to keep his annoyance in check, but it simmered just beneath the surface, undeniable.

We sat there, a thick silence settling between us, both of us too stubborn to be the first to break it.

“What do you want with me, Marz?” I asked, cutting through the banter, the teasing, going straight to what I really needed to know.

He didn’t answer right away, but I realized we were pulling into a parking spot. I had no clue where we were; I’d been too focused on him. He put the car in park, chest rising as he let out a deep sigh before turning to face me, his gaze unflinching.

“I want everything with you, Bryelle.” His voice was low, raw, like he was laying his soul on the line. “We’re always around each other—the game nights, the national hot dog days, all those ridiculous parties Jade and Akil throw—and I actually look forward to it. I look forward to you.”

A flush crept up my cheeks, warmth blooming in a way I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“You’re smart, funny, and beautiful,” he continued, his eyes softening as he looked at me. “I love that you don’t take my shit—you give it right back. And yeah, you cheat at Uno, but I can let that slide.” He gave me a grin, his eyes dancing with humor that tugged at the edges of my own smile.

A laugh slipped out, soft but real.

“You’re just…cool as hell, Bryelle. A straight shooter,” he said, his tone serious again. “I know it’s a risk, with all our friends involved. That’s why I tried to shake this off, to let it cool. But it didn’t. Every time I’m around you, it just gets stronger.”

He let those words settle between us, heavy and unfiltered, no hint of his usual games. Just the truth, bare and unguarded, and for once, I didn’t have a comeback.

Because I liked Marz—more than I cared to admit. What wasn’t there to like? But the thought of things going sideways, of having to see him all the time, of things shifting with Jade and Akil… It’d be messy. Messy in ways that could linger.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for me, and I’ll stop messing with you like that, Bryelle,” he said, voice soft and steady.

I looked down, biting my lip, trying to say the words. But they wouldn’t come. Because the truth was, I did feel something. More than something, if I was honest.

“Oh, hell,” he grinned, eyes lighting up like he’d won the lottery. “She wants me.”

“Marz, shut up,” I muttered, feeling the heat creeping up my face.

He leaned back, laughing, smug as could be. “I knew it. Told the boys, even today.”

“So full of yourself.” I shoved his shoulder, but he just kept grinning.

“Nah, for real, Bry.” His expression softened, his eyes sincere as they met mine. “Can we just… see what this is? I’m not here to hurt you. I mean that.”

There was something in his gaze—something that chipped away at all the walls I’d put up. And in the glow of the dashboard lights, with his eyes steady on mine, it was hard to tell myself I didn’t want to take that chance.

“Marz…”

“Give me tonight,” he said, voice low, that usual confidence tempered by something real, something honest.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, gaze unwavering. “Let me show you what this could be.”

I raised an eyebrow. “After the election party? I have work tomorrow.”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “We’re not going back to the party.”

“But… Jade needs the ice.”

He chuckled, reaching for his phone. “I’ll Doordash them a bag to the door.”

“Marz…”

He leaned in just a little closer. “You in?”

I hesitated, fighting the grin threatening to break through. “I have work tomorrow.”

"So do I. But that wasn’t the question.” His gaze locked onto mine, that mix of mischief and intensity daring me, pulling me in like gravity. “You in or what, Bry?"

I exhaled, feeling a grin tugging at my lips, breaking through all my reservations. “I’m in.”

He smiled, leaning in close enough that his voice was a low rumble against my cheek.

“Good. But before we go, let me say one thing." His eyes flickered, holding mine steady. "You hurt my feelings tonight. Twice. You don’t get a third time, Bryelle.”

The weight of his words hung between us, his voice settling over me like the calm before a storm. I swallowed, feeling the heat crawl up my neck.

"And just so we’re clear,” he murmured, that devilish smile creeping back, “when I fuck that attitude right out of you, and the feelings out your legs, I want you to remember tonight on that rooftop and in this car when you threw those jabs. That’s why I did it.”

"Marz…”

He didn’t let me finish, just eased back, smirking as he shifted the car into gear. “Let’s ride.”

With a smooth, single-handed turn, he whipped us out of the parking spot, his grin widening as he sent a thrill down my spine, my breath catching. That look of his—bold, daring, all trouble—was locked on me tonight, and I knew there was no turning back.

---

SHAMAR ‘MARZ” HOLLIS

My mouth always did have a way of getting me into trouble. What started as a quick run for ice had turned into an impromptu escape plan, all for a few more stolen moments with Bryelle. I needed to think on my feet—I’d asked her for one night, and I was gonna make it count, make her see that this was something real. As we coasted down the road toward the coast, the idea hit me: the family beach house wasn’t far. Seemed like the perfect destination.

When we pulled up, the garage door hummed open, revealing the sprawling seven-bedroom house, its windows glinting in the moonlight like it was holding its breath just for us. Bryelle looked around, brows furrowing as she took it all in.

“I’ve been to your place with Jade,” she said, glancing at me with curiosity. “Did you buy a whole mansion?”

I shook my head as I locked the car. “Nah, this is the family spot—my sisters and I got it together. It’s not so bad when a group goes in on something like this. Summers, holidays…when they’re all here, we pile in. Not all of them live in Westonberry anymore, so this is how we keep everyone close. Keeps the cousins tight. Keeps us tight.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, and she tilted her head, studying me. “So, you’re close with your sisters, huh?”

I couldn’t help but grin, the thought of them lighting up something in me. “Yeah. Two of them still try to boss me around like I’m not the oldest. The other two, well…they’re basically my kids, grown as they are. My nieces and nephews, too—they’re my crew. Even my dad shows up when he can. It’s special, you know?”

She nodded, her eyes softening in a way I didn’t expect. “And your mom?”

I paused, just a beat, looking out toward the ocean as I gathered my thoughts. “Well, my dad and stepmom, they’re divorced, but she’ll come by sometimes. My biological mom…she passed a few hours after I was born.”

Her eyes flickered with surprise, and she took a breath. “Damn, Marz. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.” I tried to keep my tone light, but it was the kind of thing that didn’t sit easy. “I don’t really talk about it much. It just…is what it is.”

Her gaze softened further, that unspoken understanding resting between us. It was more than I’d expected tonight—more than I was prepared for, but, damn, if I didn’t want to stay in that moment a little longer.

“Is that why you’re so passionate about maternal mortality and all that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah…for me, based on what my family tells me, I feel like it might’ve been avoidable. It sits heavy, knowing that.”

She looked down, her voice thick with remorse. “I’m sorry about what I said at the party…suggesting your reason for caring was selfish.”

I paused, watching her face, the tough exterior faded, replaced by something softer, open in a way I’d never seen. It made me want to reach out, pull her closer.

“It’s alright, Jade. I had a good life. Georgia raised me since I was two, treated me just like my sisters. I call her Mama, and me and Pops? We’re close. It’s all good,” I said, a reassuring smile stretching across my face, though I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. Before she could press further, I opened my door and gestured her out. “Come on inside. Let me make you some dessert.”

She reached for her door handle, and I shot her a scowl. She raised her hands in surrender, waiting until I walked around and opened it for her. Once she stepped out, I took her hand without even thinking about it. Felt as natural as breathing, and she didn’t pull away. I let myself savor the moment as I led her through the house, flipping on lights until we reached the kitchen. Pulling out a bar stool for her, I motioned for her to sit.

“Alright,” I said, rubbing my hands together, grinning. “Let’s see what we got so I can whip up something for my Queen.”

She tried to keep a straight face, but that smile slipped through before she could stop it. Got her.

I moved around the kitchen, checking the fridge, freezer, and pantry, taking stock since I hadn’t been out here in at least a month. After grabbing what I needed—sugar, heavy cream, vanilla, a splash of rum, and a few other essentials—I set them on the counter.

“What are you making?” she asked, curiosity in her eyes as she leaned forward.

“Grapenut ice cream,” I said confidently, pulling the mixer out of a cabinet.

Her brows shot up. “Ice cream? You’re just gonna casually make ice cream?”

I shrugged, setting the mixer down. “It’s not a big deal. Ice cream’s simple as hell to make.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’ve never had Grapenut ice cream.”

“Then you’re in for something special. My dad’s Jamaican, and whenever we’d visit growing up, it was all we ate. Still do whenever we go.” I tossed her a grin, grabbing a bowl and setting up the mixer. “It’s like a little taste of home.”

As I got to work, the hum of the mixer filled the kitchen, and Bryelle watched, her curiosity and a hint of admiration sparking in her eyes. Moments like this… they felt real. And I couldn’t help but hope she was feeling it too.

I poured the heavy cream into the mixer, letting it churn until it thickened, then added a splash of vanilla, a sprinkle of sugar, and just enough rum to give it that rich warmth without overpowering it. Bryelle’s eyes followed my every move, her expression softening as I tossed in the grapenuts, stirring them in until they were suspended perfectly in the thick, creamy mixture.

“This is the secret right here,” I said, tipping the bowl so she could see the concoction. The golden-brown grapenuts peeked through like hidden treasures.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I’m impressed.”

I smirked, scooping a generous serving into a bowl. “Of course you can let it set for a couple hours first, but I also love it when it’s super soft like this too.” I grabbed a spoon, dipping it into the bowl before holding it up to her. “First taste is all yours.”

She hesitated, her lips parting slightly as she leaned in, closing her mouth over the spoon. Her eyes fluttered closed as the ice cream hit her taste buds, and a soft hum escaped her lips.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, licking her lips. “This is… ridiculous. How is it this good?”

I smirked, watching her savor another spoonful.

“This is just something we make around the house all the time.”

“So, you went to culinary school. What made you do that?” she asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“I dunno. I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do after high school, and cooking was the only thing I felt good at. Growing up in a house full of women, they always had me in the kitchen helping out. Been cooking forever.” I offered her another scoop from our shared spoon and bowl, the intimacy of it not lost on either of us.

She took the spoon, her cheeks full of ice cream, still managing to look gorgeous with a bit of it smudged on her lips. I reached over, swiping the stray drop with my thumb, then licked it clean, never breaking eye contact. She froze, her gaze locked on mine, and for a second, she looked almost dazed.

“What?” I asked, breaking the moment with a grin.

She blinked, shaking herself back to the present. “Barbering,” she said, her voice steadying.

“Oh, right.” I chuckled, clearing my throat. “Learned to cut my own hair when I was in culinary school in Italy. Needed to look decent without paying someone else, and next thing I knew, I was good at it. Got into it heavy, and now I’ve had my shop for what…ten years.”

“Culinary school in Italy. You keep surprising me,” she said, a hint of admiration slipping through.

I scooped another spoonful, offering it to her before taking a taste myself. “Got a lot of surprises left if you give me your time, Bryelle.” I didn’t miss the way she swallowed, like the words had hit her deeper than she expected.

She lowered the spoon, softening. “What about you? What don’t I know?”

“Been in Westonberry since tenth grade. Matter of fact…” I paused, pretending to think, and then grinned. “Did we go to the same high school?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t think so.”

“Oh! Well, cause we have so much…Chemistry together,” I said, throwing in the corniest line I could think of.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Foolish.”

“Aight, tell me more about you. The real stuff.”

She leaned back, her eyes flicking up to the stars as if pulling answers from the night sky. “Thirty-seven. Pisces. Hate heights. Love horror movies. And I’m great at Uno, as you already know,” she said, a proud smirk dancing on her lips, clearly savoring her victories. “Been braiding hair since eighth grade. It’s just…what I do. Not even sure it’s what I want to do forever, but it’s the hustle I know.”

I watched her, really looked at her. “You ever think about what you really want?”

She shrugged, her gaze drifting down to her lap, a vulnerability slipping through. “I didn’t have that kind of luxury. It was always hustle first, you know? My parents made sure my needs were met, but anything extra was on me. Braiding hair was my ticket. I started in school, kept on after. I’ve been taking care of myself ever since, so figuring out what I actually want…” She paused, her voice trailing off. “Feels like a luxury I’ll never get.”

Her words hit me hard, and I could see beyond the walls she put up, the toughness she wore like armor.

“That’s what Akil did for Jade,” I said quietly. “He gave her space to figure out what makes her happy. Now she’s got that supper club she loves.”

She nodded, almost to herself, before her eyes met mine. “Yeah…but that’s Jade. Stuff like that doesn’t happen for me.”

“I’m saying, I could do that for you,” I said, my voice steady.

Her eyes shot up, a hint of skepticism as her brow arched. “When I’m your wife, huh?”

I leaned in, holding her gaze without hesitation. “When you’re my wife, Bryelle, you won’t have to hustle like that. You’ll have the freedom to figure out what you want. If it’s hair, I’m with you. If it’s something else, I got your back.”

She scoffed, but her eyes softened just a little. “I’m not even your girlfriend. We’re just…people whose best friends are engaged. And you keep talking like you’ve got this all mapped out. How’d I even get roped into your master plan?”

I leaned closer, voice dropping low, a smirk tugging at my lips. “After tonight, Bryelle, you’re not going anywhere.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Is it the Jamaican in you that makes you so damn cocky and delusional?”

“Probably,” I shrugged, grinning. “But I’m deadass. Just waiting on you to catch up.”

She laughed, softer this time, like maybe, just maybe, she was open to the vision.

I scooped another bite of ice cream, holding it out for her. She took it, closing her eyes, savoring the sweetness before I took a bite for myself. Watching her, the softness in her gaze did something to me, settling something I didn’t even know was restless.

“Gimme a kiss, Bry,” I murmured, the words rolling out smooth, bold, like they’d been on standby all night.

Her eyes went wide, and she almost choked on the ice cream, caught between shock and that simmering look she kept trying to hide. “Hollis!”

I smirked, steady, not backing down an inch. “What? You don’t wanna kiss me?”

She shook her head, pressing her lips tight, trying to play it off. “No.”

“You be lying,” I said, leaning in closer, my gaze drifting to her mouth. “Kiss me, Bryelle.”

I ran my tongue slowly across my bottom lip, letting her follow every movement. Her eyes dipped to my mouth, and in that split second, I knew—she wanted it as bad as I did.

“What’s so bad about you wanting me as much as I want you?” I whispered, my words a slow drawl, my lips brushing hers as I spoke.

Her eyes narrowed, and even though her voice came out steady, there was a hint of a tremor in it. “Who said I did?”

I chuckled, pulling back just enough to let the tension rise between us. I scooped another bite of ice cream, savoring the sweetness, and before I could even blink, she leaned in, her tongue in my mouth, catching me off guard. Her body pressed against mine, her warmth taking over as she stood between my legs, pulling me closer.

My hand found the back of her head, my fingers threading through her locs as I set the bowl down behind her. The mix of her taste with the melting ice cream was intoxicating, each kiss deep and deliberate, our breaths mingling as I held her tight. I stood, forcing her to tilt her head back, her chest rising and falling as we finally broke for air, her gaze locked on mine, full of all the fire she’d been holding back. And I knew right then, we’d crossed a line there was no coming back from.

“Cappin’ ass motherfucker,” I murmured, a smirk tugging at my lips as I held the back of her head, my thumb brushing her cheek. “What you tryna do, Bryelle?”

For a split second, I saw her confidence slip, her cheeks flushing like she couldn’t believe she’d let herself go like that, showing me exactly what she’d been holding back.

“I—” she started, stammering, but before she could finish, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I closed my eyes, stifling a groan as I turned around to see my sister Alexis standing in the doorway with my six-year-old niece Amanda, both of them with hands on their hips, wearing identical expressions of curiosity.

“Oooh, busted, Uncle Shamar!” Amanda squealed, her voice full of playful mischief. “You never told us you had a girlfriend!”

Alexis crossed her arms, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, Marz. You don’t bring anyone here. Who is this?”

I let go of Bryelle, turning to face them fully, though Amanda’s wide eyes stayed fixed on us, eating up every detail like she was watching her favorite show. I shook my head, reaching down to scoop her up, but she scrunched her nose, squirming away.

“Ew, don’t kiss me! You was kissing that lady!” Amanda whined, her face twisted in dramatic disgust.

And then Bryelle, bold, unflinching Bryelle, suddenly turned shy. “I’m not his girlfriend,” she muttered, backpedaling as she looked everywhere but at me.

I clicked my tongue, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, she’s not my girlfriend,” I said, watching Amanda’s frown deepen. Then wrapped my arm around Bryelle’s waist, pulling her close. “She’s my wife.”

The three of them gasped, perfectly in sync, eyes wide with shock as they all blurted out, “Wife?”

---

BRYELLE JAMES

Shamar played entirely too much.

I leaned back on the porch of his family’s beach house, letting the cool night breeze roll over me as the ocean roared in the distance. Out here, under a sky thick with stars, I almost forgot the mess he’d stirred up earlier. Almost. Amanda sat across from me, eyes narrowed with focus as I taught her the finer points of Uno strategy. She’d been all wide-eyed earlier, watching her mom, Alexis, get ready to unleash the full force of her sisters on Shamar, thinking he’d really meant whatever nonsense he’d just spouted. But thankfully, he managed to talk her down just in time.

Alexis had gone inside to grab a few things she’d left behind over the weekend, and now it was just me, Amanda, and the quiet lull of the waves, the sound punctuated by her delighted squeals every time she played a winning card.

“Now, listen,” I leaned in, lowering my voice like I was giving her the key to a hidden treasure. “When you play with your uncle, bet a little money. Trust me, he won’t know what hit him.”

She grinned up at me, looking every bit like she could’ve been Marz’s daughter. Those family genes? Strong as hell. I’d noticed it the minute I walked in, passing photo after photo lining the hallway. Marz and his sisters were all stamped with their father’s sharp features and warm brown eyes.

“Only if you promise me one thing,” she said, her little face suddenly serious.

“What’s that?”

“You gotta be my uncle’s girlfriend.”

I laughed, a quick, surprised sound. “Why’s that?”

“Mommy and my aunties say he’s lonely.”

“Really?”

She nodded with a sage expression, like she’d been let in on the whole adult world. “That’s what they be saying, girl,” she said, her tone mimicking a grown-up conversation she probably had no business overhearing. She picked up a card, looking entirely too pleased with herself, and I found myself caught between laughing and… maybe wondering if the kid wasn’t onto something.

"What else they be saying?" I asked, leaning in like we were in on some kind of secret.

Amanda's eyes lit up, and she grinned, glancing around like she was about to share classified information. "They say he’s a 'heartbreaker,' but I don’t know what that means. Mommy says it with a big ol’ sigh, though, and my aunties just shake their heads."

I chuckled, nodding along. "Oh, a heartbreaker, huh? That sounds serious."

"Mhm!" she replied, dealing me another card with the focus of a little hustler. "And my Auntie Zee says he’s waiting on someone special. But Mommy thinks he’s just being stubborn and don’t wanna settle down."

The porch light flickered slightly, casting us in a soft glow as she spilled the rest of the family tea, her little voice full of sass. "But I think they’re all wrong. Uncle Marz don’t need nobody."

"Oh, you think so?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

She nodded confidently. "Yep, 'cause he has me. And that’s enough."

I smiled, reaching over to ruffle her curls. "You know what? You might be right, kid. But maybe you could put in a good word for me anyway, just in case."

Amanda laughed, her giggle bright against the nighttime surf. "I got you, girl. I got you."

"But wait," I said, grinning, "why do you want me to be his girlfriend if he's already got you?"

She leaned in, eyes wide with mock seriousness, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Cause, girl, you guys kiss and you know what that leads to."

"What?" I played along, arching a brow.

"Babies!" she whisper-shouted, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You’re probably pregnant already."

I clapped a hand over my mouth, playing up the shock. "Oh my god."

"So, at this point," she continued, nodding with the wisdom of someone far beyond her years, "you have to be his girlfriend. Unless, you know, you wanna raise the baby alone."

"And he’s lonely,” she added with an air of dramatic sincerity.

"Right, right."

We burst into giggles, sharing that kind of laughter that made it feel like we’d known each other for years. I liked this little girl.

"Alright, Amanda, I got everything. Let’s leave your uncle with his… special friend," Alexis called, sliding the door open and poking her head out, her eyes twinkling with a teasing smile she wore so well.

"Ugh, Mom! She’s teaching me how to take people’s money!" Amanda whined, clutching her Uno cards like they were precious jewels.

"No, no, not people… just Uncle Shamar," I corrected with a grin, holding up my last card. "Uno."

Alexis chuckled, holding out her hand for Amanda. "Nice meeting you, Bryelle. I’m sure I’ll see you at Thanksgiving, now that you’re Shamar’s wife and all."

I shook my head, laughing. This family didn’t let up.

As if on cue, Shamar appeared from around the corner, his curiosity piqued. "What y’all talking about?"

"Bryelle’s pregnant," Amanda blurted out.

"What?" Alexis’s eyes went wide as dinner plates, her mouth dropping open.

"Mom! They were kissing! You saw them! And you said not to kiss boys because it puts a baby in your stomach," Amanda explained, looking at her mom like she was the one who needed a lesson.

Shamar busted out laughing, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back, enjoying the spectacle.

Alexis just rolled her eyes. "You know what? It’s past your bedtime. Let’s go!" She took Amanda by the hand, muttering, "Swear, you act just like your uncle."

She turned and gave us a final wave, a half-smile lingering as she headed toward the driveway, shaking her head. "Later, y’all."

I looked over at Shamar, shaking my head. "Are you sure you didn’t birth Amanda?"

"Allegedly, she’s Alexis’s child," he shrugged, sliding onto the porch bench beside me, a lazy grin on his face that made it hard not to smile back.

"She’s so much fun."

He leaned in just a bit, close enough for his voice to drop to that low, teasing rumble. "If you get with me, she’s part of the package."

I cocked an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Are you bribing me?"

He shrugged again, that smirk of his turning sly. "Is it working?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my lips. "Possibly."

There was a warmth there, a quiet between us that felt like an invitation, and for once, I didn’t feel like resisting.

"Well," I started, leaning back, "she and I had a little talk."

"Bout what? Not how babies are made, obviously," he chuckled, that deep, easy laugh filling the night air.

"Speaking of… you want kids?"

He didn’t miss a beat. "Hell yeah. I love being an uncle, but I wanna add to the gang, you feel me?"

I tilted my head, giving him a long, assessing look. "So why don’t you have any kids yet? I mean, you’ve had the chance, right?"

His eyes caught mine, that familiar heat flickering in them, simmering just enough to make my heart skip a beat. "Who said I haven’t found the right person?"

The weight of his words settled between us, pressing against the walls I’d built up around myself. I glanced away, needing a second to breathe, to pull myself together. "Maybe we should get back to the party?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble that sent a thrill down my spine. "You really care about that party, or are you more interested in seeing what’s up between us?"

My heart stumbled, but I kept my cool, shrugging like he hadn’t just called me out. "Ummm..."

"Look, while you’re trying to figure out who America’s picking for the next four years, I’m trying to lock down my next four…really, forever."

I rolled my eyes, trying to bite back the smile threatening to give me away. "You’re ridiculous, Marz. Forever? You say this mess to the women in the shop too, don’t you?"

His voice softened, going even lower, more serious than I’d ever heard it. "I don’t say this to anybody else."

I swallowed, the playfulness slipping just enough to let the tension seep in. "Then why do you keep saying stuff like that to me?" I tried to sound annoyed, to brush it off like I didn’t care, but the truth was, I felt myself folding, bit by bit, like I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

"Cause God told me you’re mine," he said, just like that. Simple. Final.

I shot him a side-eye, rolling my eyes. "Calling me your wife to your sister and niece—crazy ass."

He cut in, steady as ever. "I seen you in a dream."

I sucked my teeth, trying to brush it off, play it cool. "So now we’re out here having dreams? Alright, MLK Jr."

But he didn’t laugh. Just kept his gaze fixed on me, deep and unflinching, like he could see right past every wall I’d tried to stack up between us. "I’m for real."

The way he said it—low, certain, like he was holding a truth only he could see—made something catch in my chest, had me feeling off-balance.

"This might sound strange," he continued, his voice barely more than a murmur. "But my family… we dream things all the time. Always have. See things before they happen." His eyes didn’t waver, daring me to believe him. "My grandma’s got that gift—she passed it to me and two of my sisters."

I just stared, caught between disbelief and something else I couldn’t put a name to.

He took a breath, his tone dropping lower, rougher. "One night, after my sisters kept on me about being lonely, I was feeling some kind of way. So, after I prayed, I asked God to show me my wife—reveal her to me in a dream, ‘cause that’s the only time my mind stops running a mile a minute." He paused, eyes locked on mine, unblinking. "I saw you, Bryelle."

I blinked, twice, trying to process his words.

"Didn’t even meet you till a couple months later—Labor Day last year. Messed me up," he said, lips curving into a soft smile, chuckling like he was still wrapping his head around it. "You walked into that party, and I couldn’t shake it. Felt like seeing a ghost I didn’t even know I’d been waiting on."

"Then why haven’t you said anything?" I whispered, my voice barely holding steady.

He leaned back, smirking a little, his fingers tapping a rhythm on his knee. "Bryelle, I’ve been puttin’ pressure on you since, like, a week after we met. You just always think I’m playin’."

"Cause you play all day," I shot back, trying to regain my footing. "And you haven’t been serious… at least, not for real."

He exhaled, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "At first? It scared the hell out of me. Seeing you in a dream, then watching you walk into my life like you belonged there—it was strange. So I tried to let it sit, to see if you’d come to me. But that was my mistake." He shook his head, almost like he was talking to himself. "I should’ve made it clear. When I call you my wife, Bryelle, I’m not playin’. I’m speaking what I know is already true."

It was the most serious I’d ever seen him—no smirk, no slick remark. Just that unwavering gaze, like he was putting his whole heart out there for me to see.

"You really want me to believe this?" I asked, trying to keep a note of skepticism in my voice, but even I could feel the softness creeping in.

He shrugged, his eyes never leaving mine. "You don’t have to believe a word I say," he murmured, his voice a low rumble settling between us like a promise. "But I know you feel it too…even if you don’t know what it is right now."

We just stared at each other, the only sound between us the steady rhythm of the ocean crashing against the shore. The air was thick, charged, like the moment could stretch on forever.

Then, suddenly, both our phones buzzed, snapping the spell. I glanced down, recognizing Jade’s name lighting up my screen.

"It’s Jade," I said, holding up my phone.

"Akil," he replied, showing me his screen.

Neither of us moved to answer the buzzing phones. Just kept looking at each other, caught in this moment like the world outside had pressed pause just for us.

I cleared my throat, struggling to keep my voice steady. "What’re the chances, huh? Jade running back to Akil… and me and you…"

"Finding each other," he finished, his voice soft but certain, like he was sealing a promise we hadn’t even spoken yet.

He gave me a slow, crooked smile, that effortless confidence glinting in the moonlight. "I don’t know the exact math on that," he said, letting out a quiet laugh. "But I know one thing for sure—this is gonna make one hell of a story for our kids one day."

The words settled between us, and just for a second, the future he spoke of didn’t seem all that impossible.

---

SHAMAR ‘MARZ” HOLLIS

Bryelle looked at me, her eyes caught somewhere between disbelief and a flicker of hope, like she was teetering on the edge of trusting every word that left my mouth. But there was that spark—a glimmer in her that wanted to believe, that wanted this to be real.

I stood, extending my hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She didn’t hesitate, slipping her hand into mine, and we moved across the lawn toward the shoreline, the ocean stretching out like a sea of molten silver under the full moon. The moonlight danced on the waves, casting an ethereal glow over her, making her look like she’d stepped out of some dream I’d held onto for too long.

“Venus is in Sagittarius right now,” I said, my gaze drifting up to the stars.

She tilted her head, curiosity tugging at her lips. “What does that mean?”

“Venus is the planet of love,” I murmured, watching her as she looked skyward, her face softened by moonlight. “When it’s in Sagittarius, people get bolder with their hearts. It’s like… a push to go all in. No fear, no second-guessing.”

She chuckled, pressing a finger to her chin as if she were putting together a puzzle. “So, let me get this straight—you trained to be a chef in Italy, have the coolest niece in the world, you’re a dreamer, and now you’re an astrologer too?”

I laughed, stepping in closer and taking both her hands, turning her to face me. “When I was a kid, there was this girl who was into astrology, and I thought if I learned it, I’d figure out if we’d be together forever.” I grinned, letting her in on the memory.

I leaned in, closing the distance between us, my lips grazing hers, slow, deliberate. My hands slid to her back, pulling her against me, and her arms found their way around my neck, a soft moan slipping from her as the night air held us in place. I’d imagined this moment a hundred times, each version falling short of this, with just us here, the vast ocean, and the moon above, like the stars had lined up just for us tonight.

She pulled back, her eyes glistening, shadows of something deeper just beneath the surface. I held her gaze, my hands cradling her face, grounding her, keeping her close, not letting her look away.

“Talk to me,” I murmured, my voice low, coaxing.

She swallowed, her voice a whisper, trembling with a vulnerability that hit me square in the chest. “Please don’t hurt me, Shamar.” Her eyes softened, but they were filled with shadows. “Please… don’t hurt me.”

Those words knocked the air out of me. She’d been through something real, something that left scars. I could feel it.

“Whatever went down in the past, whoever hurt you—that’s not me, Bryelle. It’s never gonna be like that with me,” I promised, my voice firm, steady. “God sent you to me. Hurting you would be hurting myself, and it’d be disrespecting Him in the process. I don’t play games like that.”

She looked at me, and there was something raw and fragile in her gaze as she nodded slowly. “I feel something for you too, Shamar…have for a while,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a breath. “But I just… I can’t handle being hurt again.”

I took her hands, holding them between us, the weight of the moment settling over us like a vow. “Give me more than tonight, Bryelle, and I promise you—you’ll see how good this life can get with me loving you. You just have to let me in.”

And under the moon’s watchful gaze, she nodded, her grip tightening in mine, the start of something real hanging in the quiet between us.

“That’s a yes?” I tilted my head, searching her face. “You wanna do this with me?”

“Yes,” she nodded, laughing softly. “You finally broke me down with your sweet, ridiculous self.”

I laughed with her, savoring the sound, the warmth in her voice.

“I didn’t break you down, Gorgeous. I’d never do that.” I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m only here to build you up.”

She smiled, a light in her eyes that made my heart beat just a little faster.

“If this doesn’t work out, I get Akil and Jade,” she teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

I frowned, shaking my head. “That’s never gonna happen.” My tone was firm, clear. “We’re not gonna speak that over us, you hear me?” I tilted her chin up, making sure she understood.

“You really think—”

“I know.” I cut her off, sensing the doubt. “I even already picked out our wedding song.”

Her eyes widened. “What? Marz…” She shook her head, half laughing, half disbelieving.

“Wanna hear it?”

“You’re serious.”

I didn’t answer, just pulled my phone out, scrolling through Tidal until I found it—my playlist for me and Bryelle’s wedding. The whole list was there, every song I’d ever imagined for moments like this, but I figured that might sound insane. So I tapped the first track, letting the opening chords of Bobby Glenn’s “Sounds Like a Love Song” drift into the night air.

She smiled, that look in her eyes telling me she felt it, too.

“May I have this dance?” I asked, holding my hand out.

“You are something else.”

“What I am,” I said, pulling her into me, “is the man who wants to be with you, to love you, keep trading insults with you, cook for you, and spend every summer and weekend right here with you.” I wrapped one arm around her waist, the other holding her hand as we began to sway under the moonlight.

She leaned in, her breath soft against my chest. “This feels unreal.”

“It’s real, Bryelle,” I murmured, holding her close. “And now that you’re trusting me with your heart, I’m gonna bring as much magic into your life as I can.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide, open, like she was letting herself believe in us, in this. And for once, the future stretched out before me, bright as the moonlight and just as certain.

“Well, now that I’m…” she began, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“My wife,” I interjected smoothly.

“Dating you.”

“My girlfriend.”

“Agreed to go on some dates and see where this goes.”

I chuckled, rolling my eyes as we continued to sway on the sand under the moonlight, the waves crashing softly in the background.

“Fine, what’s up?” I asked, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Don’t embarrass me, Marz. I don’t want anyone coming to me ‘as a woman’ in the shop.”

I shook my head, letting out a soft laugh. “I’m not the player you think I am, Bry. I’m just friendly as hell, and yeah, sometimes I get a little lonely. I like good company, but I’m not out here knocking down every girl in Westonberry.”

She gave me a skeptical look. “How many, then?”

“None. Right now, none,” I said, letting the honesty settle between us.

She raised an eyebrow.

“How many guys you entertaining?”

She smirked. “Oh, just this one guy I met last week…we’ve been talking.”

“Get rid of his ass.”

“Get rid of your hoes.”

“I just said—”

Her stern look stopped me mid-sentence, and I laughed, pulling her closer.

“What else you need from me, Gorgeous?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her neck, breathing in the soft scent of her skin.

“I want flowers and dates every week,” she said, her voice softening. “I know we’re both busy, but I don’t need a lot of time…but I do need some time and effort.”

“You want to be prioritized,” I murmured, my lips trailing along her neck. “You’re my priority.” I let my hands settle on her waist, looking down into her eyes. “What else?”

She hesitated, her words coming slow, deliberate. “No secrets, no games.”

“Stop cheating in Uno, then,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck, my hands trailing lower, feeling her shiver under my touch.

“And…keep me laughing. Don’t change on me.”

I pulled back, locking eyes with her, my voice low but sure. “As long as you keep talking shit, Gorgeous, we’ll be just fine.”

She smirked, then her expression grew serious. “And… if we start being intimate… I can’t be with you and feel like I’m sharing you with a bunch of other people. Even if we’re not fully committed yet.”

I grinned, letting her words settle in. “Bryelle… I—Shamar Hollis—am fully committed to you. I’m just waiting on you to catch up.” I brushed my lips over hers, lingering. “But I’m not gonna rush you.”

She raised an eyebrow, her mouth curving in a smirk. “You just told me to get rid of that man.”

I chuckled, pulling her closer. “I’m already in, Bry. You got me. I know what this is, what I want this to be. But I’m patient.” I tilted her chin, kissing her slow, letting her feel every word I meant. “If sex is part of this, it’s only you, and I told you earlier—I don’t mess around with my health, or with this. I know you’re cautious about us, but I’m telling you, after tonight, it’s just us. You’ll see.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head before leaning in, her lips brushing mine. “Delusional…” She kissed me, her breath warm against my skin. “Motherfucker.”

I laughed, pulling her closer, our bodies pressed tight as I murmured, “Bout you? Hell yeah,” and gave her ass a firm squeeze, feeling her melt into me.

There was barely any space left between us, but she found a way to close it even further, moving against me, her body practically grinding on my growing erection. Damn, she had me out here like a teenager, my control slipping by the second, nearly losing it right here on the sand.

“Don’t play with me, Bryelle,” I whispered, voice thick with need, unable to handle the sweet torture a second longer. Her eyes flashed with that teasing look, and then, without breaking her gaze, she reached down, her hand wrapping around me, and I sucked in a breath.

“It’s election night, Shamar,” she murmured, her voice soft but with a challenge in her tone.

My lips twisted into a smirk. “So what you saying? You tryna make me president of this pussy?”

She smiled, leaning in close, her breath brushing my ear. “I’m saying…I need a win tonight. It’s been way too long since I had a win.”

That was all I needed—no words, just her, right here under the stars. I kissed her slow and deep, hands wandering, claiming every inch, before pulling back just long enough to shrug off my sweatshirt and lay it out on the sand.

“Right here?” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice, her eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“Under the moon, the stars…doesn’t get more romantic than this.”

She wrinkled her nose, half-joking. “I’m gonna get sand in my hair, all in my ass.”

“We’ll wash it off in the ocean,” I shot back, grinning.

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going in there at night.”

“Relax, we’ve got an outdoor shower, too. I was just messing with you.”

She paused, considering. “What if we did it in the ocean?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You want a UTI?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s so annoying how tapped in you are about women’s bodies.”

I smirked, pulling her close. “Bryelle, you want this dick or not, ma’am?”

“Yes, damn it,” she muttered, her face breaking into a grin.

“Then take your clothes off, hell,” I murmured as I stripped down.

She let out a dramatic huff, slipping out of her clothes, and I followed, stripping down until we were both standing there, bare under the moonlight. The waves whispered against the shore, and there I was, hard as a missile, pointing straight at her. She stared, wide-eyed, her gaze locked on me.

“What?” I asked, amused.

She pointed, her eyebrows shooting up. “Where did you get that?”

“This?” I glanced down, giving it a little tap as it sprung back. “Been had this, my whole life. What’s good?”

She blinked, shaking her head slowly. “I think I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“That…that weapon of mass destruction that’s looking at me. Marz, what the hell is that, and where have you been hiding it?”

I chuckled, moving closer. “Bryelle—”

“That thing is dangerous. You’re worried about me getting a UTI? You might split me in half.”, she said stepping back.

“You talk about me playing around. Bend your ass over and take this dick, Bryelle. Got me out here in front of God”—I pointed to the sky, glancing up—“with my dick out.”

She rolled her eyes, smirking. “God is everywhere, dummy.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’m not about to argue theology with you right now, not when I’m tryna handle business, since you wanted to rub your pussy on me. We got other priorities, Gorgeous.”

She eyed me, biting her lip. “You’re gonna puncture a kidney.”

I grinned, stepping closer, my hand tracing the curve of her back. “You got two of ’em. You’ll live.”

She started saying something, but I wasn’t listening—not with her standing there, tempting me like that. I moved forward, dropping to my knees and burying my face between her thighs. Her gasp turned into a cry as her legs parted, inviting me in. My hands gripped her ass, and I went to work, tongue swirling, flicking, tasting every inch of her. She tasted like heaven, and I was greedy for more.

Her fingers dug into my shoulders, her head tilting back, moans slipping from her lips as she looked up at the stars, practically worshipping the sky. Her legs trembled, and I could feel her giving in completely, her voice breaking into half-formed words, like she couldn’t catch her breath. She was in my hands, right where I wanted her, sounding like that, feeling like this.

I wanted to howl, to let the whole damn world know that I’d found something worth keeping. She was mine, and no other man was ever gonna touch her, just like no other woman would ever get close to me again. This was it. She wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was I.

I slipped two fingers inside her, feeling her knees go weak as she buckled against me.

“Don’t you move,” I murmured, coming up just long enough to meet her eyes, the moonlight catching her flushed face. My fingers kept working, deliberate, slow. “All that shit you talk—stand here and take it,” I smirked before diving back down, my mouth on her clit, relentless.

“Oh my God… I’m gonna cum…Venus in the moon or whatever the fuck…” she groaned, her voice thick with pleasure and incoherent words. She wasn’t making no damn sense.

I chuckled against her, the vibration making her grip my shoulders even tighter. And when I hooked my fingers forward, she let out a scream that was pure, raw ecstasy.

“Gorgeous, you gon’ have the neighbors out here,” I teased, giving her a playful smack on the ass. “Gotta be quiet.”

“But you—you—fuck!” she gasped, her whole body shuddering, and that’s when she exploded, a release that soaked my hand, her cries dissolving into a choked whimper as she tried to muffle herself, her body shaking in my grasp.

I rose, pulling her into my arms, still keeping that rhythm with my hand, coaxing out every last tremor until she collapsed against me, breathing heavy, spent.

“God damn, Bryelle,” I muttered, amazed at how her body had come alive for me. “You needed this, huh? Needed that win real bad, Gorgeous.”

She shook her head, then nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, finally sinking into my arms, trusting me to hold her up as she breathed in deep, letting herself feel every pulse of what we’d just shared.

I scooped her up and laid her down on my sweatshirt, her chest still heaving, cheeks flushed. I couldn’t help but smirk, brushing a hand along her thigh. “I got a squirter on my hands, huh?”

She gave me a sheepish look. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I love that shit. But damn, glad we’re outside—you’d have flooded the house.” I reached for my pants, digging for my wallet to find a condom.

But before I knew it, she kicked me over, sending me sprawling backward into the sand. A cloud of it went flying, covering her, and she started sputtering, spitting grains of sand out of her mouth.

“Shit!” I muttered, brushing sand off myself, trying not to laugh.

She glared at me, brushing sand off her lips. “Ugh! Asshole.”

“You pushed me!” I said, attempting to stifle a grin as I sat up, dusting off my arms.

For a second, we just sat there, both of us covered in sand, looking like a mess—and then we both broke, laughter spilling out, filling the night air.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” I said, catching my breath, taking in her beautiful, wild face.

She grinned, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “So are you.”

“Match made in Heaven,” I murmured, brushing a hand over her cheek.

Her smile softened, and in that moment, I knew this was exactly where I wanted to be, sand, chaos, laughter and all.

She looked at me, her smile fading into something softer, more real. “You think we’re really that, Marz? A match made in Heaven?”

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t think, Bryelle. I know.” I paused, letting my words settle between us. “From the second I met you, I realized I already knew you. Like you walked in and everything else in the room dimmed. And every time I see you, it’s like that. So, yeah, I think Heaven had a hand in this.”

She looked away, biting her lip, a small smile creeping back. “I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that love isn’t real, that it’s just some thing people chase because they’re afraid to be alone.” She paused, her voice quiet. “But you…you’re making it hard to keep believing that.”

“Then don’t believe it,” I said softly, reaching out and brushing a thumb along her cheek. “Let me be the reason you don’t. Let me show you that love is real and that it’s not just for other people—it’s for us too.”

She looked back at me, her eyes glistening with something raw and unguarded. “That sounds so good,” she whispered, her voice cracking just a little. “But I’m scared, Marz. I’m scared because it feels like too much, and I don’t want to fall apart if it doesn’t work out.”

I took her hands, holding them between us, feeling her pulse steady beneath my fingers. “Look, I get it. It’s big, and it’s scary, and it’s real. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. This isn’t some passing thing, Bryelle. This is me wanting you in every way, every day.”

For a moment, we just sat there, tangled in each other, the world quiet around us, as if it was just us and the promise we’d just made under the stars.

---

BRYELLE JAMES

One minute, we were sitting there in the hush of the moonlight, just breathing in the space between us. The next, Marz was on his feet, scooping me up over his shoulder, sprinting down to the ocean like he’d been waiting on this moment all night. I laughed, wild and breathless, as the cool water hit us, splashing against my skin, grounding me and igniting something all at once.

When he set me down, he didn’t let go, his hands steady on my thighs, pulling me close until my legs wrapped around him instinctively, locking us together. The ocean rippled around us, but he was all I could see, all I could feel.

His lips found mine, hungry yet gentle, a slow burn that turned fierce, our breath mingling in the salt-kissed air. My hand slipped between us, finding him, guiding him with a need that felt as natural as the waves lapping at our bodies. In one swift movement, I took him in, maybe a little too quickly, and a gasp escaped me, sharp and unexpected.

“Gorgeous…” he breathed, breaking our kiss, his eyes steady on mine, grounding me as my heart raced, giving me that moment to catch up to myself.

“I want it,” I whispered, voice steady but trembling beneath the weight of everything I felt, every thrill running through me.

He searched my gaze, reading every bit of want, every flicker of uncertainty, and then, with a tenderness I hadn’t expected, he began to move, guiding me down inch by inch until he filled me, deep and unyielding. I held on to him, arms wrapped around his neck, forehead pressed against his as our breaths mingled, his slow and ragged against my ear.

Around us, the world faded, leaving only the stars above, the night’s silence, and the soft rhythm of waves. He stilled, his voice low and rough, like he was letting me into something he’d never shared before. “You okay?”

I nodded, breathless, my voice barely a whisper. “More than okay.” The words tumbled out, a soft whimper of something raw. “You…we…feel so good.”

“Gorgeous, you’re gonna choke me, though,” he chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. “Can you let go a little?”

I laughed softly, loosening my grip, leaning my head against his shoulder as he held me steady.

“So tight,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent. “Warm…wet.” It was like he was discovering something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted.

I smiled against him. “What you pictured?”

“Better.”

For a long moment, we just stayed like that, holding each other, the ocean gently rocking us, his body and mine connected in a way that felt as old as the stars above.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur.

I nodded, and he began to move, slow and careful, each movement sending waves of sensation through me as I clung to him, my breath catching in the crook of his neck, feeling him deeper with every gentle thrust.

"This okay?" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against the night air.

I managed a nod, speechless, overwhelmed by the way he moved with such tenderness. For all his bravado and swagger, Marz was a gentle lover in a way that left me breathless, every kiss and slow, deliberate thrust feeling like it was meant to claim every part of me.

"Talk to me, Gorgeous," he whispered, his mouth grazing the curve of my neck as he moved inside me, each stroke slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His lips left a warm trail along my skin, and when he sucked gently, my head fell back, surrendering to the sensation.

"What are you doing to me, Marz?" I breathed, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice, soft and full of need.

"Giving you what you need," he murmured, his mouth finding my shoulder, leaving a lingering kiss that I knew would bloom into a mark by morning. I didn’t care. Not with the way his hands gripped my waist, holding me steady as he took his time. "Taking what I’ve been wanting."

"What do you want?" The words came out as a whisper, almost afraid of the answer, but craving it all the same.

"Your heart," he said, his voice a deep, throaty murmur. "Your time. Your body…and for you to want me the way I need you." He pulled me closer, his mouth finding my neck again, each kiss like a claim. Then, his lips covered mine, kissing me so deeply it felt like he was trying to reach every unspoken part of me.

“You’re gonna make me fall in love with your ass one day, Marz…fuck,” I trembled, barely able to keep my voice steady as he moved with a deep, steady rhythm that left me breathless.

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine, intense and unflinching. His hands gripped my hips a little tighter, his strokes growing more deliberate, deeper, like he was determined to etch himself into me.

I held his gaze, feeling something raw and electric building between us, something I hadn’t expected but couldn’t resist. "You sure about that?" I whispered, letting him see every bit of my hesitation mixed with the wanting I could no longer hide.

His face softened, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth as he leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. "More sure than I’ve ever been about anything."

A shiver ran through me as he continued, his voice low, rough around the edges. "I’m gonna make you believe in this, Bryelle. In us. One day, you’re gonna know that no one else could ever feel this way with you."

I felt my heart stumble, caught in the gravity of his words, his hands, his presence. And as we moved together under the stars, all I could think was that he just might be right.

When the night carried us from the ocean to his shower, everything intensified, like every sensation had been turned up a notch. Steam rose around us, softening the edges, blurring the world until it felt like we were the only two people alive, wrapped in a haze of heat and shadows. His right hand covered mine on the tile, fingers warm and steady, grounding me, while his left gripped my waist, holding me firm as he moved, relentless, driving into me from behind. The water poured over us, slipping down our bodies, mingling with the heat between us.

That gentleness he’d shown outside had given way to something raw, something hungry, and all that careful restraint was gone. He was still attentive, his grip possessive but cautious, checking in with every movement, every whispered breath. But Marz was fucking the shit outta me like no man ever had—each stroke pushing me to the edge, like he wanted me to fall completely. I felt like I was losing myself, coming undone piece by piece, and I let it happen, surrendering to the wild, fevered rhythm he set.

The pleasure was so intense, so consuming, that a soft, raw sob escaped my throat. I was grateful for the water, masking the tears that mixed with the spray. What he was doing to me felt criminal, like he was unraveling parts of me I hadn’t even known were there. Every movement, every press of his body against mine, was deliberate, as if he was determined to make me feel every inch of him, and I did—down to my bones.

He slowed down, just enough to let me catch my breath, his lips brushing along my shoulder, his hand still pressed over mine on the cool tile.

“You good, Gorgeous?” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble, that familiar cockiness tempered by something deeper, something that felt like a question and a promise all at once. He wasn’t just asking if I was okay—he was asking if I could handle all that he was giving, everything he was ready to lay out between us.

I nodded, my breath catching as I tried to steady my voice. “Yeah…you just…damn, Marz.”

He chuckled, low and rough, a sound that vibrated through me. “Told you I’d make you feel it, didn’t I? You kept pushin’ me, playin’ games—I told you who’d win.”

I glanced back, leaning into his strength as he held me steady. “We should…we gotta get out of here…the president…”

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice a low growl that matched the rhythm of his deep, relentless strokes. “I’m playing to win, Bryelle. And by win, I mean you—all of you. That sharp mouth, all that attitude, every single piece of you. I’m President of this pussy,” he punctuated, each word matching the power of his thrusts.

I wanted to laugh at his cocky ass, but the orgasm crashed over me, taking me under so hard I could barely hold on. My body trembled, shivering with a release so intense that stars burst behind my closed eyes.

“I can’t… I can’t take anymore, Marz!” I gasped, my voice breaking, tears slipping down my cheeks, begging him to show me mercy.

He chuckled, low and relentless. “Oh, you tapping out, Gorgeous?”

“Please,” I whimpered, my voice a broken whisper. “Please…”

He drove into me hard, three deliberate strokes that left me breathless, then pulled back, leaning against the wall, chest heaving as he took himself in hand, the last groan escaping his lips as he released onto his palm, head tilted back, muscles tense.

I slid down to the shower floor, barely holding myself together. He glanced down, smirking, still catching his breath. “Look at you…” He chuckled, sounding damn pleased with himself. “Told you I’d fuck the feeling out of those legs—and that attitude, too.”

I managed a shaky laugh, the aftermath still rippling through me. “What you did was criminal, and I’m filing charges,” I joked, trying to steady my breathing, my heart still racing from everything he’d just put me through.

Marz tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he wiped his hands with a smirk that told me he was nowhere near sorry. "You really wanna bring the law into this after what just went down?"

I laughed, my breath still uneven. "I’ll get evidence if I have to. I’m calling 9-1-1 soon as I can stand up without my knees shaking."

He chuckled, sliding down beside me on the shower floor, pulling me close, his arm wrapped around me like he was daring me to go anywhere. "I don’t know if the Sensual Assault charges will stick."

I rolled my eyes, trying to summon some sass, but I was still too breathless to make it convincing. "Please. They’d be on my side the second I tell them I was taken hostage in a shower."

He scoffed, that grin of his stretching wider. "You stay claiming to be a hostage, like a real kidnapper wouldn’t drop you right back home the minute you start running that mouth."

I nudged him, a laugh escaping. "Look, the details don’t matter. The fact is, I was assaulted with overwhelming pleasure—I’m suing."

His laugh was low and smooth, pulling me close as he kissed my forehead, amusement glinting in his eyes. "I’ll represent myself. I’m gonna stroll right into that courtroom, whip my dick out, and they’ll throw the case out."

I smirked, leaning back to give him my best side-eye. "Judge is gonna side with me in a heartbeat."

"Well, when that judge gives me another night as your sentence, don’t say I didn’t warn you," he shot back, pulling me even closer, that devilish smirk firmly in place.

And, as much as I hated to admit it, I knew he’d win this case just like he’d won everything else tonight.

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to my shoulder, his voice dropping to that low rumble that still did things to me. "Good luck with your case, Gorgeous. Just remember why you lost this round. Your mouth is gonna get you in trouble every time."

I couldn’t help it; I laughed, leaning into him, knowing damn well he had me right where he wanted.

---

SHAMAR ‘MARZ” HOLLIS

"Damn, looks like another hurricane’s headed our way," Bryelle murmured, cocooned in my oversized bathrobe as she sat propped up against the pillows, flipping through channels. She looked completely at home, her hair spilling over the collar, legs tucked under the covers like she belonged there. ‘Cause she did.

I walked back into the room, balancing two bowls of ice cream, and climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping under my weight. "If it comes this way, you’re staying with me," I said, getting comfortable and trying not to tip the ice cream.

She shot me a sidelong look, that teasing smirk tugging at her lips as she took one of the bowls. "You wanna be my man so bad."

I scoffed, sliding a bowl into her hands. "I’m your husband, Bryelle. Stop acting like you don’t know I’m supposed to protect,” I said, clicking my tongue.

“Who do you think’s gonna win?” she asked, her eyes glinting with that familiar, playful spark trying to change the subject.

“Me,” I replied, smirking. “Already did. And you won too. I know you got your victory… several times.” I threw in a wink, watching her laugh as she nudged me away.

She cocked an eyebrow, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “And what are you gonna tell your friends tomorrow?”

I grinned, leaning in. “That I knocked that thing out the frame till you tapped out. Matter of fact, I’ll tell everybody down at the barbershop.”

Her eyes widened, and she slapped my shoulder. “You will not!”

I chuckled, pulling her close. “You know I’m just messing with you, Bryelle. I’d never disrespect my wife like that.” I kissed her forehead, letting my words settle between us. “You crazy?”

Her face softened, a smile teasing the corners of her lips, and for a heartbeat, it felt like everything between us was falling into place, the world outside slipping into silence.

“I’m tired,” she murmured, curling into me, her voice fading with each word. “I’m not gonna make it for the results.”

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, feeling the weight of her body settle against mine. “Yeah, you’re done for the night, sleepyhead. Wrap it up.”

She mumbled, half asleep, “I gotta go home.”

I kissed the top of her head again, my fingers tracing slow circles along her back. “You are home.”

Her eyes drifted shut, and a soft “okay” slipped from her, barely more than a breath as she yawned, too tired to argue. And just like that, she gave in, nestling into me, our bodies fitting together naturally, like every piece had finally found its place. The room filled with the quiet rhythm of our breaths, the calm settling over us thick and warm, like it was always meant to end this way.

I whispered, almost to myself, “I told you, Bry. After tonight, you’re not going anywhere. We’re doing this. You and me.”

She mumbled something that sounded like “uh-huh,” too drowsy to push back, just melting deeper into my arms.

“You don’t have to commit to forever today. Just be open to where this goes,” I murmured, knowing she was only halfway listening.

“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, her voice fading as she slipped fully into sleep. And as she breathed soft and steady against me, I couldn’t help but think she was already right where she belonged.

The room settled into a deep, peaceful silence, broken only by the soft sound of her breath as it fell into the quiet rhythm of sleep. The glow of the night filtered in through the curtains, casting a silver sheen over her skin, her face softened, unguarded in sleep, like she’d finally found a place to rest—maybe for the first time in a long time.

I looked down at her, watching how she fit perfectly against me, her hand resting on my chest as if it belonged there. There was something about the way she looked right then, something that dug deep into a part of me I hadn’t known was waiting for this. It felt like a promise—one we hadn’t spoken aloud but had been moving toward with every glance, every touch, every word exchanged between us.

Gently, I brushed a stray loc from her forehead, letting my fingers linger there, savoring this quiet, this sweetness that had woven its way around us like a warm blanket. I hadn’t known that love could feel like this—solid, grounded, like a foundation I wanted to build my life on.

I whispered into the silence, more to the room than to her, “You got me, Bryelle. Whether you know it or not. You got all of me.”

Pulling her closer, I let my eyes drift shut, my hand resting over hers. And as I felt her heartbeat slow in rhythm with mine, I knew—this was where I wanted to be. In this room, on this night, holding her close, with nothing else to prove or say. For once, just being here was enough.

Outside, the world held its breath, waiting for the numbers, the headlines, the promises that would be spun and broken by morning. But here, in the stillness of this room, none of it mattered. Election night might decide a future for millions, but right now, lying here with Bryelle tucked against me, I already knew I was the real winner.

the end.

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© 2024 J.T. Westonberry. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permissions, visit Urban Love Stories.