#Terrance Richmond | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugarplum217 · 2 months ago

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Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) contains sexual explicit content, heavy smut, spit play, oral sex, A VERY HEAVY USE OF “daddy” and “mama”, unprotected sex, cursing, major dirty talk, creampie, mentions of murder, lots of heavy sexual flirtation, detailed sexual acts , fluff

AuthorsNote: Please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors. I hope you enjoy the story and remember to be kind and if you want to be tagged in the next part let me know.

Summary: Everyone and their mama has been trying to either set you up on a date with someone or continuously remind you that your clock is ticking away. That you weren’t getting any younger and your looks would eventually fade. What they didn’t know is that you already had your special someone. In fact you’ve had him a while. You know how that saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait” and for you in this instance. It was nothing but the waiting game for your special someone to finally walk into your life. The question is .. would it be acceptable for everyone else?

You never expected to fall in love with a man behind bars. It started as nothing more than a random click—some late-night curiosity fueled by boredom and an ad that popped up between Facebook posts. Find love where you least expect it. Meet single men looking for companionship. You damn near scrolled past it, but something made you stop. Maybe it was the way the words “love” and “companionship” stood out, teasing something you didn’t realize you were craving. Maybe it was just the boredom, the same mundane routine of work, home, sleep, repeat, stretching on like a treadmill you couldn’t step off. Either way, you clicked. Scrolling through the profiles felt like flipping through a catalog you had no business browsing. Men of all ages and backgrounds, some looking for friendship, others for love. But none of them caught your attention. That is—until you saw him. Inmate 07541, Terrance Richmond. Baby, that mugshot stopped you cold. Rich buttery light caramel skin, sharp jawline, and full lips that looked like they could whisper secrets straight into your soul. His nose was strong, his features chiseled, but it was those damn piercing uniquely colored eyes that did it. Deep-set, hooded, with a stare so intense you could feel it through the screen. Something about them made your heart stutter—like he was looking at you, past you, into you. There was no forced smile, no tough-guy posturing. Just that stare. You hesitated, hovering over the message button. What the hell were you doing? Messaging a man serving time? A man who, according to his bio, had been locked up since he was 18? Still, curiosity won. You typed out a casual introduction—something light, something safe—and hit send. Then you pushed it to the back of your mind, fully expecting no response, but he wrote back. And not just some half-assed, one-line reply. He wrote you back.

That first message turned into another. And another. Emails became long letters, paragraphs bleeding into pages, until you found yourself rushing home from work just to see his name in your inbox. You learned everything about him—the way he used to play football before his life changed, the music he listened to, the books he read to escape the four walls of his cell. He told you about his past, the pain, the betrayal, the night everything changed. And you told him about yours—how life felt like it was happening at you instead of for you. How you wanted more, but you didn’t know what more even looked like. Then came the sweet video calls. The first time you saw him move, saw that sharp jaw flex when he smiled, heard that deep, velvety voice rumble straight through the screen—you were done. Hooked. Gone. Two years later, here you were. In a relationship—a real one, even if nobody knew. And in a few days, he’d be free. And that? That scared you more than anything.

“You always got an excuse, girl. What is tea?”Sonya’s voice snapped you back to the present, and you blinked, realizing your fork had been hovering over your plate for way too long. It was lunchtime at Taste Of The South Cafe, your usual Friday spot with the girls. The table was cluttered with half-empty margarita glasses, plates of fried catfish and mac and cheese, and the scent of honey butter croissants floating in the air. Normally, this was your escape from the monotony of work. But today? You were ready to go.

“I just wanna relax,” You half way lied, pushing your food around. Sonya wasn’t buying it. Neither was Deja.

“Girl, please,” Deja scoffed. “Every time we plan a girls’ night, your ass come up with something. What’s up? You sneakin’ around with somebody?”

“Ain’t nobody sneakin’.” You forced a laugh, shaking your head.

“Then why you always rushin’ home like you got a man waitin’ on you?” Sonya arched a brow, swirling her margarita.

“Because I do.” You thought to yourself. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you shrugged, hoping they’d let it go. They didn’t.

“You sure it ain’t that new dude in accounting?” Deja pressed. “The one with the Audi and the beard? Girl, he is fine.”

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

Sonya snorted. “And what is your type? Because last time I checked, you were single as hell.”

You just smiled, keeping your real thoughts locked up tight. Because your type wasn’t something you could explain to them. Your type wasn’t sitting in an office, making six figures, and posting gym selfies on Instagram. Your type was locked behind bars. A man who had spent more of his life inside than out. A man whose voice alone made your thighs clench, whose absence felt like a missing limb. But they wouldn’t get that. So you just laughed it off, switched the subject, and counted down the hours until you could talk to him. The day dragged. By the time you made it to your car, your feet were aching, your patience was shot, and you were tired. But none of that mattered. Because in just a few minutes, he’d be calling. The drive home was full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the usual call from your mama.

“Hey ma” You greeted, honking the car in front of you to move their ass.

“Hey my baby. You comin’ to dinner this weekend?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You make a face, thanking god she can’t see you.

“Good. Your sister’s bringing her fiancé.” She said, her tone laced with excitement. Of course, she was. Your older sister had the picture-perfect life—a man, a ring, a timeline that fit neatly into the family’s expectations.

“And he’s bringing his brother,” You mother added casually.

You sighed. “Ma—”

“Just be open-minded! You’re a beautiful girl, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She reminded for the hundredth time. You gritted your teeth, gripping the steering wheel. If only she knew. But you decided to let it go.

“I’ll see you Saturday.” You shook your head, hanging up.By the time you got home, it was 6:59pm. You barely had time to drop your purse before your phone lit up with that Incoming Call from your ‘Big Daddy’. You squealed, feeling your heart flip.

You snatched it up, answering with a smile. “Hey, baby.”

“Damn, I needed to hear your voice.” A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, deep enough to send heat pooling between your thighs.

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

“Long as hell,” He sighed. “But I knew I’d be hearin’ from you, so I got through it.”

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? I missed you more baby” He smirked. You could hear it in his voice. “Tell me about your day, baby.”

So you did. You told him everything—lunch with your nosy-ass friends, your mama trying to set you up. And he listened quietly like always when it came to your day and what crazy ass story you had ready for him. That was one of the many things you loved about Terry, how he could just listen and never get tired of you talking.

“Don’t sweat that shit, baby. You got a man.” He chuckled, low and smooth. That possessiveness made your toes curl.

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

“Hell yeah,” He murmured. “And in a few days, you gon’ have me in every way possible.”

Your breath hitched and your body got hot. Because in just a few days, Terry Richmond would be free. And you would finally be his. You adjusted the phone against your ear, stretching out on the couch, letting his voice roll over you like thick honey.

“You talkin’ real reckless, Mr. Terrance,” you teased, biting your lip. “What makes you think you gettin’ all this good good so easy?”

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled through the receiver, sending shivers down your spine. “Baby,” He drawled, voice rich and slow like he was savoring every syllable. “Don’t play wit’ me. You and I both know the second I touch down, I’ma have you laid out for me, just how I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Your thighs pressed together at the promise in his tone.

“Hell yeah. First thing I’m doin’ is spreadin’ them thighs, makin’ up for lost time. You know I been starvin’ for you. Ain’t had a taste of sweet pussy in years. I need my plate, ma.” He stated, making your breath hitch and heat coil in your lower belly.

“Terry…” You breathed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Say my name just like that when I’m between them legs,” He murmured. “Matter fact, scream it. I’ma put my mouth on every inch of you. Them thighs? Mine. Them hips? Mine. That spot you say makes you weak right under your belly button? I’m kissin’ it first. And you already know where I’m endin’ up.”

Your body responded to his words instantly, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your blouse. The ache between your thighs grew unbearable. You were so tempted to rub on your clit as he talked to you, but you knew big daddy’s rules. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself at all unless he gave the permission and could listen to you without any interruptions.

“You talkin’ crazy,” You whispered, your voice thick with need.

“Nah, baby, I’m talkin’ facts. You gon’ see. Soon as I get out, you ain’t leavin’ that bed for at least three days.” He chuckled.

“Oh, so I’m just gonna be held hostage?” You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

“Damn right,” He said without hesitation. “Ain’t no way I been locked up this long just to finally get my hands on you and let you go. Shit, you gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe.”

Your stomach flipped. You wanted that. Needed that. But then, reality settled back in. The system didn’t make things easy.

“Speaking of that…What did your lawyer say about your release date? Will you be out on my birthday like we want?” You exhaled, shifting the phone closer to your ear. It was silence for a moment. The weight of it pressed heavy between you, thick and uncertain. You held your breath preparing for the worst case scenario possible.

“They still pushin’ for my original release date, but you know how this shit go. Paperwork, red tape, all that. My lawyer confident, though. He say if everything lines up, I should be out right on time. Maybe even a couple days before.” Terry let out a slow breath.

“For real?” Your chest tightened with cautious hope.

“For real, baby. But…” He hesitated. “You know they been tryin’ to trip me up in here. COs, some of these jealous-ass inmates. They know I’m close to freedom, and they hate that shit. I gotta keep my head low, stay out the way, but it’s hard sometimes. Real hard.”

“They still on that bullshit?” Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” He muttered. “They hate a nigga like me gettin’ a second chance. And these lame ass inmates tryna set me up don’t help either.”

“Terry, I swear to God if they—”You closed your eyes, frustration bubbling inside you.

“Relax, mama,” He said, voice dropping into that deep, soothing register that always made you weak. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I promise you that. I done made it through too much to let these motherfuckers take my freedom again.”

“Baby, please promise me you won’t do nothin’ to mess this up. I need you here. I need you home.” You frowned, Terry remained silent allowing you to vent because he knew this was becoming harder everyday for you to cope with. You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I just…” You hesitated, then admitted softly, “I just need you here. I don’t want anything messin’ this up. My 28th birthday… Terry, all I want is you.”

“I know, ma. Trust me, I know.” His voice softened, turning serious. “You the only thing keepin’ me sane in here. The only thing keepin’ me goin’. I promise you, I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ get in the way of me comin’ home to you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I trust you.” You inhaled deeply, letting his words settle over you.

“You got me for life baby,” He said assuring you, voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, baby. If I gotta fight every damn day until that judge signs my release, I’ma do it. ‘Cause you worth it. We worth it.”

“You better mean that,” You whispered. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“I do. And when I’m finally out, when I got you in my arms, I’ma make sure you never question that again.”

“I love you so much.” You exhaled shakily.

“I love you more, baby.” He bit his lip, feeling his heart speed up.

“You swear you gonna come home to me, Terry?” You exhaled, stretching your legs out on the couch, your free hand absently trailing over your bare thigh.

“Baby, listen to me.” His voice came through the receiver, deep and unwavering. “I need you to hear me when I say this. Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I done wasted enough years locked up, dreamin’ about what it feel like to be free, to wake up next to a woman who actually give a damn about me. I ain’t lettin’ no CO, no hating-ass inmate, no system take that from me.”

You closed your eyes, soaking in his words. A small tear escaped your eyes as you just let him talk and calm all of your fears.

“And you really think I’m about to let you be out here spendin’ another birthday without me? Nah, ma. That ain’t happenin’.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Matter fact, you should start gettin’ ready now, ‘cause soon as I step through that door, I’m givin’ you somethin’ to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah? What you givin’ me, Terry?” A slow smile spread across your lips.

“Ain’t it obvious? My last name, first of all.” He stated matter of factly.

“Boy, stop playin’.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Who playin’?” He challenged. “You really think I been doin’ all this talkin’, dreamin’ about you, makin’ plans, just to be out here on some casual shit? Nah, baby. You my woman. And when I get home, I’m puttin’ a ring on that pretty lil’ finger. You ain’t gon’ be nobody else’s but mine.”

Heat spread through your chest, settling deep in your belly. He always had a way of making you feel claimed, but this? This was different. This felt all too real and that he was promising you the moon and the stars and would actually reach up in the damn sky and get it for you.

“Terry…” You purred slightly.

“Say it again,” He murmured, voice dropping to that low, dangerous octave that always did something to you. “Say my name just like that.”

“Terry.” Your lips parted, slowing your words down for him.

“Mmm,” He groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear every morning, every night. That’s what I wanna hear when I’m makin’ love to you, when I’m in it so deep you forget how to say anything else.”

“You tryna kill me, huh?” You sucked in a breath, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

“Nah, ma. Just tryna remind you who you belong to.” He smirked, licking his lips.

You chewed your lip, heart pounding against your ribs. The thought of him finally being here, of feeling him, touching him, owning him in the flesh—it was almost too much.

“Terry…” You started, voice soft, hesitant.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He adjusted the phone on his ear, eyebrows furrowing. You hesitated a moment afraid to tell him what’s really been on your mind. Afraid he wouldn’t understand but truth was Terry was more than understanding when it came to you.

“I just… I keep thinking about what’s gonna happen once you’re really here. Like, when it’s not just phone calls and emails. When it’s real. When it’s us.” You honestly confessed, sighing. You heard a brief pause making your stomach tighten out of angst. You held your breath afraid he’d be upset but after a few seconds, he then spoke gently.

”That’s what you scared of?” He asked, voice soft.

You swallowed. “Not scared, just… it’s gonna be different. You been inside since you were 18, Terry. That’s—” You did the math in your head, stomach twisting. “Seventeen years. That’s a long time.”

“I know,” He said simply. “You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I been countin’ down to this moment. I know it’s gon’ be an adjustment. I ain’t naive to that, baby. But what I do know is that I want this. You. I ain’t spent two years fallin’ in love with you for nothin’. And I damn sure ain’t finna let somethin’ as small as a transition period shake me.”

You exhaled, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I just want you to be happy, Terry.”

“I am happy, ma. You make me happy.” He professed from his heart, making your heart squeeze and stomach flutter.

“Now,” He continued, voice laced with that familiar hunger. “Can we get back to what I was sayin’? ‘Cause I still got a whole list of things I plan to do to you soon as I get out.”

“Oh yeah? Go ‘head then, baby. I’m listenin’.” Your stomach flipped.

Terry exhaled through the receiver, the sound slow and deliberate. “Aight, so… First thing I’m doin’ soon as I step through that door? I’m droppin’ my bag, pullin’ you close, and kissin’ you like I been starvin’ for it.”

“Mmmm.” You bit your lip, already picturing the scene.

“Ain’t gon’ be no soft, sweet shit neither. Nah,” He rumbled. “I’m talkin’ about deep, wet, tongue all in your mouth, my hands locked around that waist, pullin’ you so tight you feel my dick pressin’ up against you.”

“Damn, Big Daddy. Can I at least take my heels off first?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Hell nah,” He said smoothly. “Matter fact, leave ‘em on. I want you just like that. Fresh off work, tight lil’ skirt ridin’ up, them pretty ass legs wrapped ‘round my waist while I pin you up against the door.”

“Oh shit..” Your entire body heated at the image. You had to fan yourself, and cross your legs to avoid any wetness seeping out.

“You know how long I been dreamin’ about that, baby?” His voice dropped an octave, turning into something dark, possessive. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years I been locked in this hellhole, surrounded by nothin’ but concrete and steel, knowin’ I ain’t got a real woman to touch, to taste, to claim. And then you came along…”

“B-Baby..” A soft gasp slipped from your lips. You squeezed your thighs shut tighter, already soaking your panties.

“And now all I can think about is how you gon’ feel underneath me. How soft your skin is. How good you smell. How sweet you taste.” He growled lowly in your ear.

“Shit.” You cursed, shifting on the couch, thighs pressing together.

“Mmm,” He hummed knowingly. “You wet for me, ain’t you?”

“Terry—” You swallowed.

“Nah, don’t try to play it off now,” He interrupted. “I know you, ma. I know you sittin’ there, grippin’ that phone tight, breathin’ all heavy, body heatin’ up just listenin’ to me talk. I don’t even need to be there to know how bad you want me.”

“You lucky you locked up.” You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back against the couch.

“Lucky? Nah, baby. Unlucky. ‘Cause if I was home right now, I’d have you laid out, ass up, back arched, moanin’ my name so loud the neighbors call the cops.”He chuckled, voice dripping with amusement.

“Boy, stop!” You laughed, shaking your head. “You talk all that shit, I hope you got the stamina to back it up.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Oh, you doubtin’ me? That’s crazy. Lemme find out my baby think I ain’t gon’ put in work.”

“I mean, it has been a long time, Big Papa,” You teased.

“Aight,” He drawled, tone dangerous. “Keep playin’ with me. You gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe when I’m done with you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, so smooth and confident like he had zero doubt in his ability to back up every single word. The next few hours passed in a blur, the two of you tangled in conversation like it was your own little world. Terry told you about the meals he was craving—real food, not that processed mess they served on metal trays. He wanted collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, fried chicken, all made by you. “I need a home-cooked meal, baby. Something made with love,” He said, his voice full of longing. You laughed and promised to have a whole spread waiting for him. Then the conversation shifted to the small things—how he couldn’t wait to sleep in a real bed, how he wanted to go outside at night just to feel the wind on his face without fences in the way, how he wanted to sit on the couch with you and watch a movie with your legs draped over his lap. “Shit like that, ma,” He murmured. “The simple stuff. That’s what I miss the most.”

And you listened, hanging onto his every word, feeling your heart swell with each confession. The world had taken so much from him, stripped him of so many years, but somehow, he still had softness in him. He still had love to give. You found yourself telling him about all the things you wanted to do together, too—how you wanted to take him out to eat at a real restaurant, go on a drive late at night just because, lay up with him on a Sunday morning while the smell of breakfast filled the apartment. The more you talked, the more the reality of him coming home settled deep inside you. “You really gon’ take care of me, huh?” he asked, his voice low and full of something tender. “You damn right,” you whispered. “Somebody gotta make up for all that time you lost.”

If someone had told you years ago that you’d fall in love with a man behind bars, you would’ve laughed in their face. You always wanted love, prayed for it even, but you never imagined it would come in the form of Terry Richmond—a man with a past heavier than most, a man who had seen the worst parts of life and still found a way to hold onto his soul. He was the most fascinating, most alluring man you’d ever known, and you had never been more open with anyone in your life. You craved him in ways that scared you sometimes. You wanted to be the one to feed him, to run him a hot bath and wash years of struggle off his skin. You wanted to rub his shoulders, his chest, his back, to remind him that he was human, that he was home. And the way he talked to you, the way he poured into you, made you feel like you were already his sanctuary.

After you finally got off the phone, you moved into your nighttime routine, taking your time washing your face, patting your skin dry, smoothing your serums in like a ritual. You stared at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how your life was about to change. In just a few days, he’d be here, in your space, in your bed, in your life outside of those prison walls. As you reached for your bonnet and wrapped it securely around your head, your phone buzzed on the counter. FaceTime. Mama. You sighed, knowing she’d scold you if you didn’t answer, so you slid your thumb across the screen and propped the phone up.

“Hey, Mama,” You greeted, already bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” She said, peering at you through the screen. “Just callin’ to say goodnight and check on you before you went to bed.”

“I’m alright , Mama. Just gettin’ ready for bed. Doing my usual routine.” You smiled.

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, then her face lit up. “Oh! Guess who I ran into today? You remember Kiana Perkins from high school?”

You frowned, digging through your memory. “Kiana Perkins… oh yeah, the one who used to run track?”

“Yes, her! Baby, she married now, got two babies, livin’ all happy with her husband. She showed me pictures and everything. And I just… I don’t know, baby, it got me thinkin’.” She started in on you.

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

She held up a hand. “I know what you ‘bout to say, but hear me out. You not gettin’ any younger, baby. I just want you to have somebody. You always been my dumplin’, my soft-hearted baby, and I just—” She sighed. “I just want you to be loved, baby. I want somebody to take care of you for once.”

You bit your lip, heart squeezing at her words, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know that you did have somebody. That you had Terry. That soon, you wouldn’t be coming home to an empty bed anymore. You leaned back against the bathroom counter, swallowing the lump in your throat as your mother continued, her voice full of concern.

“You know, I just don’t want you to end up like me, raising a family all on your own. You’ve got so much to offer, baby, don’t let it go to waste.” She paused, waiting for you to respond, but you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you couldn’t—not yet. Terry was still behind those walls, and the world wasn’t ready for your truth. Not yet.

“I hear you, Mama,” You said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I’m good. I’m happy with how things are right now.”

She eyed you, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t push it. “Alright,” she finally said, her tone softening. “Just don’t wait too long, baby. Time don’t wait for nobody.”

“I won’t, Mama. Promise,” You replied, though you knew the promise wasn’t to her. It was to yourself. You weren’t going to waste any more time. The conversation moved on, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not telling her about Terry. She didn’t know that every night, you fell asleep with thoughts of him, that his voice had become the lullaby you never knew you needed. You thought about his touch, his words, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. But for now, it was a secret. Your secret. You wrapped up the call with your mother, promising to be at Sunday dinner over the weekend, and hung up. The air felt thick now, like the weight of your own desires had settled in your chest. You finished getting ready for bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Terry, wondering if he was thinking about you too, wondering how much longer you’d have to wait before he was finally home. As you slipped under the

covers, your mind drifted to your happy place and that was Terry. Eventually after saying a quick silent prayer for him and his safety like you did every night, you finally went to sleep.

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long golden streaks across your bedroom. You lay there for a moment, tangled in your silk sheets, staring at the ceiling with a heavy mind. The anticipation sat on your chest like a weight. Today could be the day you got answers—real answers—about Terry’s release. No more guesswork, no more waiting in limbo. Either he’d be home in time for your birthday, or he wouldn’t. And if it was up to you, there wouldn’t be a wouldn’t. Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, shaking you from your thoughts. The number was unfamiliar, but you knew who it had to be before you even swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but there was an urgency beneath it.

“Good morning, this is Michael Walker, Terry Richmond’s attorney.” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional, but you caught that slight edge—like he was bracing himself for a conversation you might not want to have. “I wanted to give you an update on his case. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. What’s the update?” You pushed yourself upright, resting your back against the headboard.

Michael exhaled. “So here’s where we are. We’re still waiting on the judge’s final decision regarding his release. As you know, we’ve been pushing hard for full release instead of parole, but the system moves at its own pace. Right now, it’s looking like one of two things will happen—either the judge will sign off on his release, and he’ll be free to come home, or he’ll be granted parole with conditions.”

Your stomach twisted at the word “conditions.” That could mean anything. A curfew. Mandatory check-ins. Restrictions on where he could go, what he could do. You wanted Terry free—not still tangled in the system’s web.

“Is there a chance he’ll be home by my birthday?” You asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

Michael hesitated. That damn hesitation. You hated it. “That’s what we’re aiming for,” He said finally. “But it’s all in the judge’s hands. We’re doing everything we can to make it happen, but we need to be realistic.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. “I just… I need him home.” The words left you before you could stop them, more vulnerable than you wanted to sound.

“I get it,” Michael said, and for the first time, there was something softer in his tone. “But here’s the thing—you need to make sure Terry understands how important it is for him to stay in line right now. He’s close. So damn close. But if he gets into it with the COs, if he so much as breathes wrong in there, it could delay everything. Or worse.”

A lump formed in your throat. Terry had been through hell in that prison. You knew how hard it was for him to bite his tongue, to play the game when the guards disrespected him just for breathing. You also knew how much some of those inmates hated to see another Black man about to touch freedom. Envy was a dangerous thing.

“I’ll talk to him,” You said firmly. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good,” Michael replied. “I’ll keep you posted on any updates. Until then, just keep him focused on what’s waiting for him on the outside.”

And that’s exactly what you planned to do. Because he was coming home. To you. To the life y’all had spent two years dreaming up. And you weren’t about to let anything or anyone take that away. The weight of everything that needed to be done before Terry came home sat on your shoulders like a mix of excitement and pressure. There was so much to prepare, so much to buy, so much to perfect before your man walked through that door and took his rightful place in your life. Clothes, toiletries, shoes, cologne—he was stepping into a world he hadn’t been a part of since he was barely legal, and you were determined to make sure he had everything he needed to start fresh. And then there was you. Your own upkeep was just as important. You wanted to look good good for him. A fresh Brazilian wax so your skin was baby smooth, eyebrows snatched, lashes full and fluttery, and your hair? Oh, that had to be flawless—not just for your birthday but because you already knew he was going to have it all over the place by the end of the night. You could already hear the headboard knocking, already feel his breath on your skin, already picture the way he’d grip you like he was making up for lost time. The thought alone made your stomach tighten with anticipation.

But beyond all the surface-level preparation, there was a deeper feeling swirling inside you. Letting a man you’d only seen through a screen and heard through a receiver move into your home was a huge step. Some would call it crazy. Hell, a part of you knew it was risky, but love had never been about playing it safe. And with Terry? It had never felt like a risk. It felt right. He was your soulmate—plain and simple. The man you wanted to

wake up to, fall asleep with, build a family with. You’d spent two years loving him from a distance, and now, you were stepping into a reality where he was yours in every way. You weren’t naive to the adjustments that would come with it, but you also weren’t afraid. He was worth it.

With a stretch and a soft sigh, you finally pulled yourself out of bed, the silk of your nightgown clinging to your curves as you padded across your bedroom. It barely covered your ass, the hem rising with each step, and you lazily reached for your robe, wrapping it around you before making your way into the kitchen. The house was still, quiet, but soon, it would be filled with his presence. Him walking around shirtless, his deep voice filling up every room, his scent lingering on the furniture. You couldn’t wait. As you reached for the fridge, your eyes landed on the Polaroid photo of him taped to the door—one of the few glimpses of him outside of a call or a video chat. He had sent it during one of the rare inmate photo days, his expression serious but his eyes still burning with something that made your stomach flip. Damn, you fine. You ran a finger over the image, smiling to yourself before pulling out the eggs and milk.

The one thing people probably wouldn’t understand was why you had never visited him in prison. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. God knew you had begged to. But Terry? Terry was territorial to his core. It had taken months of back-and-forth, of pleading and arguing, before you finally accepted that he wasn’t going to let you step foot in that visiting room. He didn’t want no prison guards or inmates looking at his woman—studying you, lusting after you, imagining things about you that only he was allowed to. You belonged to him, and the thought of other men—especially those locked up with him—laying their eyes on you sent him into a rage he didn’t even try to hide. It wasn’t just possessiveness; it was protection. He had seen too many things go left in that place, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be a part of any of it. So, you let it go, trusting that the day would come when you wouldn’t have to love him from a distance. That day was almost here.

You were in the middle of whisking the batter for your waffles when your phone vibrated on the counter. Without hesitation, you snatched it up, already knowing who it was.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Terry’s deep, raspy voice sent a warmth down your spine. His morning voice was dangerous.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” You hummed, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you continued mixing. “How’d you sleep?”

“Would’ve slept better with you underneath me,” He murmured, the smirk in his tone evident. “What my baby got planned for today?”

You bit your lip, smiling. “Just a quick Target and BJ’s run to stock the house up for you, then I gotta get my nails done. Oh, and I gotta swing by the post office to pick up my bundles that came in.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Mmm, you tryna get fine for Big Daddy?”

“Mmhmm.” You giggled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Damn, girl…” His voice dropped a little lower, and you could almost see him licking his lips on the other end. “Ima eat that pussy like crazy, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched, a heat sparking between your thighs. “Terry!” You squealed, laughing. “Stop being nasty!”

“Nah, I’m deadass serious.” His tone was dark, full of hunger. “You don’t even know what you got coming.”

You took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the goosebumps crawling up your skin. “Listen, nasty man, we need to talk.” Your tone shifted, getting serious. “Your attorney called me this morning. We need to discuss what he told me.”

“What he say?” There was a pause before he answered with a serious tone.

You exhaled. “Baby…” You gripped the phone tighter, staring at the batter as if it had the answers. “It’s about your release.”

Terry was silent for a moment, and you could feel the shift in his energy through the phone. That easy, teasing tone from before was gone, replaced by something heavier—something cautious.

“What about it?” His voice was lower now, tight with restraint.

You sighed, setting the whisk down and gripping the edge of the counter. “He said they’re still waiting on the judge to sign off, and it could go either way. Either parole or full release.” You paused, running your tongue over your lips. “I asked if you’d be home by my birthday, and he said that’s what they’re pushing for, but the judge has to approve it first and it appears the judge is taking their sweet ass time. Same shit you told me last night.”

“Man… I been waiting years for this moment. If they try to stall this shit…” Terry sucked his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Baby, don’t even put that energy in the air,” You cut in quickly, gripping the phone. “It’s gonna happen. You just gotta hold tight.”

“I’m tryna hold tight, ma, but you don’t understand. I been locked down since I was eighteen. Half my life. I done played by they rules, kept my nose clean, did everything I was supposed to do. And now, when it’s finally my time to touch down, they wanna drag they feet?” His frustration was raw, and you didn’t blame him one bit.

“That’s why we gotta be smart about this,” You soothed, lowering your voice. “Your attorney said you need to walk a fine line, Terry. These COs and some of them inmates? They don’t want to see you win, baby. You getting out means they lose power over you. And if you let ‘em get under your skin, if you give them any reason to stall this—”

“I know, baby,” He gritted, cutting you off. “I ain’t stupid.”

“I never said you were,” You softened, biting your lip. “But you know they’ll do anything to keep a black man locked up. You know that. You can’t afford to slip.”

Another deep sigh. “I just wanna be with you, ma,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, the vulnerability cutting through all the frustration. “That’s all I been holding on to. You. Us. The life we ‘bout to have.”

“And you will be with me, Terry. Soon. I promise.” Your heart clenched, and you closed your eyes for a second.

“You the only thing keeping me sane right now, baby,” He muttered. “You really are.”

“And you the only man I want. Ain’t nothing gon’ change that.” You swallowed hard, that warmth creeping back into your chest.

He went quiet for a beat, then, “Damn, you really love me, huh?”

“Boy, you already know.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Say it,” He murmured.

“I love you, Terrance Richmond.” You bit your lip, smiling.

A deep exhale came through the line, like those words alone were enough to ground him. “I love you too, ma. More than you even know.”

“You better love me with your fine self.” You giggled, continuing to whisk the batter. He chuckled lowly, the sound making your ears perk up at the nostalgic sound.

“You know I want a baby soon as possible, right? Just like we talked about.” Terry’s voice dipped even lower, that familiar edge of possession curling around his words.

“I know, baby.” You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your belly at the certainty in his tone.

“Nah,” He pressed. “I mean, soon as I get home, I’m filling you up. I ain’t playing.”

A giggle bubbled out of you. “Well, that’s good to know,” You teased, twisting a strand of hair between your fingers. “Because I already got off my birth control, and I’m ovulating real soon.”

Silence. Then a sharp inhale from Terry. “You serious?”

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips

“Good,” He growled. “‘Cause I ain’t pulling out. I want you pregnant, mama. You carrying my son or my baby girl. I already see it.”

A deep shudder rolled through you at the sheer conviction in his voice. There was no hesitation, no doubt—he wanted this, just like you did. Now you knew having a baby before a ring wasn’t the most conventional thing. You were raised better than that, taught that marriage first was the way to go, that being someone’s “baby mama” wasn’t the move. But Terry? He wasn’t that type of man. This wasn’t some half-thought-out, heat-of-the-moment decision. You knew exactly what you were signing up for. From the moment you told him you wanted his baby, he made it crystal clear—both you and that child would have his last name. There would be no question, no hesitation. You weren’t about to be just someone’s BM. You were his woman, his future wife.

The plan was already in motion—soon as he got out, y’all were hitting the courthouse and making it official. No long engagement, no drawn-out wedding planning stress. He wanted to be your husband immediately. And once he was settled, once he was back on his feet, working and bringing in real money, then he’d give you that big wedding, the

one with the flowers, the dress, the family all gathered to watch you walk down the aisle. But for now? The paper, the commitment, you—that’s what mattered most to him.

It wasn’t like you weren’t set up already. You made damn good money, and your degree in business administration had you sitting pretty in a high-paying corporate consulting job, helping multi-million-dollar firms streamline their operations. Your salary was more than enough to hold things down while Terry got back on his feet, and you’d already mapped out a business plan to help him reintegrate. Finding a job after doing seventeen years inside wasn’t easy, but you had resources, connections, a plan. You weren’t just bringing him home—you were making sure he stayed home. You were building a life with this man, and every step of it felt right.

“You think your family gon’ like me?” Terry exhaled through the phone, his deep voice softening just a little. Your smile, bright and easy just seconds ago, slowly faded. It was a fair question. A real one. But it wasn’t an easy one to answer. You knew your mama. Sweet, nurturing, and warm when she wanted to be, but judgmental as hell. A devout Christian woman—saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost. She wasn’t fond of anything remotely sinful, and Terry… well, Terry was the walking definition of sinful.

There was no denying he was a fine-ass man. That wasn’t the issue. Standing tall at 6’3”, with those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to shift between ocean-gray and a stormy blue-green depending on the light. Rich, light caramel skin that deepened into a golden bronze in the summer but softened into a fairer hue in the colder months. A strong, chiseled jawline that made him look both dangerous and regal. His lips? Plump, full, always looking like they were ready to be kissed—or used for something far nastier. His short-cropped curly fro was just long enough to grab, and those thick, corded muscles? Yeah. His time behind bars didn’t just sculpt his body—it turned him into a damn statue, cut from flesh instead of marble. His tattoos, inked along his thick arms, added to his edge. Especially that sleeve—his latest one, a masterpiece he got done while inside.

He was the kind of man that turned heads when he walked into a room. The kind that made women cross their legs and bite their lip. But he wasn’t the “good, God-fearing man” your mother had envisioned for you. Terry was the complete opposite. And yet, his heart was the purest thing about him. Despite his past, despite the anger and the hurt buried deep in his soul, he was a good man. A gentle soul trapped in an exterior so hard, so intimidating, most people never got to see the real him.

You inhaled sharply, trying to find the right words. “Baby, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm.

You sighed. “I don’t know. My mama… she can be a bit much. And the fact that I’ve been hiding this—hiding us—for the past two years? Oh, she gon’ have a fit. And my sister? Whew, she gon’ have a mouth full too. You’d probably have better luck with my aunties than my own mama.”

Terry chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flutter. “I get it, baby. I do.” His voice was soft, understanding. “But I ain’t going nowhere. She can side-eye me, throw oil on me, pray over me ‘til she blue in the face—I’m still gon’ be here. And I’ma do whatever I can to make her love me. To make her see I ain’t some monster. ‘Cause I want this, ma. I want us. I want your family to be my family, too.”

That made you smile. A big one. The kind that deepened your dimples and warmed you from the inside out. But there was something else weighing on you. Something heavy. Something you knew Terry wouldn’t want to talk about, but you had to ask.

You hesitated before carefully pushing forward. “Baby… you gon’ reach out to your mama once you’re free?”

“Nah, Y/N. I’m not.” He answered, his voice, tight and clipped.

You swallowed. “Baby—”

“Ain’t like she gave a fuck about me in the first place,” he cut you off, his voice colder now. “I’m in here ‘cause of her. You know that.”

“I know. I do. But, baby… you gotta forgive. Not for her. For you. You need peace, Terry. You deserve that.” You exhaled slowly. His breathing was heavier now, like he was trying to keep himself from slipping into that dark place. You hated when he went there. When the bitterness and resentment started to eat away at him.

“I got peace, baby. I got you.” His voice softened just a little, but you could still hear the hurt beneath it. “That’s all I need.”

“I hear you baby.” You softly replied. You decided to respect his wishes and let the conversation about his mother rest. He had been through enough, and you weren’t about to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Instead, you brightened up, shifting the energy as you let out a little squeal.

“Oh! Baby, my birthday dress came!” You announced excitedly, twirling a loose curl around your finger. “I can’t wait for you to see me in it.”

Terry’s smirk was damn near audible through the phone. “Oh yeah?” His voice dropped an octave, turning rich and smooth like warm honey. “That’s cool, baby… ‘cause I can’t wait to take that shit off you.”

“It is literally nine in the morning, and you already on go.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Because I got this pretty, brown-eyed woman waiting on me,” He murmured. “And I can’t stop staring at her picture, picturing our life together beyond these walls. I just need my woman bad.” He let out a breath, voice thick with longing. “I wanna turn your body inside out, have you laid up exhausted, and then make you breakfast in the morning while you recover, boo.”

“Leave the cooking to me, Richmond. Don’t need you burning our house up.” You smirked, scratching your head. You hadn’t even realized you said it like that—our house—until the words left your lips. But Terry caught it instantly. His heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest like wildfire.

“Our,” He repeated, grinning through the phone. “I like the sound of that. And don’t worry, baby. I could never destroy anything of ours.” His words settled over you like a warm embrace, making your stomach flutter.

Terry cleared his throat after a beat. “So, your girls still takin’ you out for your birthday?”

“Mmhmm,” You confirmed, stretching lazily. “We’re hitting this grown and sexy lounge. Got a section, a table, should be real nice. I just wanted something low-key. Nothing too crazy.”

Terry hummed in approval. “That’s what’s up. You think your girls gon’ accept me?”

You snorted. “They’re gonna love you. Especially Deja. Sonya, though… she might take a minute. She’s Miss Fake Bougie, swearing she a real housewife of Atlanta. But deep down, she’s chill. Just real protective of me.”

Terry let out a low chuckle. “Aight, sounds like a plan, baby girl. Long as they ain’t plotting to run me off, we cool.”

“Never that.” You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, leaning on the countertop.

“Mm. Aight, tell me this, then—what’s the first meal I’m getting when I come home?” He inquired, with a devious smirk.

“Well, I was thinking… me.” Your voice became real seductive, tilting your head.

Terry’s laughter rumbled through the phone, low and sinful. “Ain’t no thinking, that’s a guarantee. But just to be safe, cook us something for after, ‘cause we gon’ need the strength.”

“Terry, you so damn silly.” You burst out laughing, shaking your head at him.

“You love it,” He teased, and he wasn’t wrong. Because behind all that reserved, stoic energy, Terry Richmond was a damn goofball at heart. And he was your goofball. The conversation between you and Terry continued, the two of you just vibing, killing time before you had to finally pull yourself away and get in the shower. He told you about a wild dream he had last night—some crazy mix of old memories and future fantasies of the two of you together.

“Man, I swear, I had the realest dream, baby,” He said, voice lazy and deep. “We was laid up in this big-ass house, had the baby in the crib next to us… you was wearin’ my T-shirt, lookin’ all sexy with your lil’ bonnet on, and I just kept pullin’ you closer, not even tryna let you sleep.”

“So you gon’ keep me up even in your dreams?” You laughed, rolling onto your side, twirling the bedsheets between your fingers.

“Hell yeah,” He said without hesitation. “I been starvin’, baby. Soon as I touch down, I’m eatin’ you up, kissin’ on you, makin’ love to you every chance I get. You gon’ be sick of me.”

“Never that daddy,” You murmured, feeling warmth spread through your body at just the thought of how it would feel to finally have him home.

“Bet,” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh. “I just be sittin’ in this cell picturing it, picturing us—you in the tub, all soaped up, candles lit, slow jams playin’… me right behind you, holdin’ you close, runnin’ my hands all over that soft ass skin, kissing up your neck… licking on your nipples..”

Your breath hitched, already envisioning the exact same thing. You had put together a playlist for his arrival—nothing but the smoothest 90s and early 2000s R&B, songs that made you wanna melt into somebody’s arms.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about?” You asked, biting your lip.

“What, baby?” He feigned innocence.

“How you gon’ be sneakin’ into the shower while I’m tryna get ready for work,” you giggled. “Talkin’ about, ‘lemme wake you up the right way’—like I don’t have places to be!”

Terry laughed but then hummed in approval. “Shit, I am waking you up the right way. Gon’ have you walkin’ into work with a smile so big, they gon’ know somebody put it there.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, heat rising to your cheeks. You were so gone for this man. “You just wait, Richmond,”You teased, sighing dramatically. “You about to be a full-time distraction.”

“That’s my plan, baby.” He grinned through the phone.

After a few more minutes of sweet talk, you finally sighed. “Alright, I need to get in the shower before I lay here and talk to you all day.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Terry teased. “I just wanna hear the water runnin’. Let me close my eyes and imagine it.”

“Boy, bye!” You laughed, shaking your head before reluctantly hanging up.

—

The hot water cascaded over your skin as you leaned against the shower wall, letting the warmth soak into your muscles. Your mind was racing with all the intimate moments you’d been daydreaming about since Terry’s release date became a real possibility. Late nights soaking in the tub together, his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing along your shoulder. Waking up to him pulling you into his body, whispering in your ear before making love to you first thing in the morning. The idea of sharing a home, a bed, a life with him made your stomach flip with anticipation. You had been living alone for so long, moving on your own schedule, answering to no one. But now, there would be him. His things mixed with yours, his scent lingering in your sheets, his presence filling the empty spaces. And you couldn’t wait.

Once you finished luxuriating, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You took your time getting dressed—pulling on a pair of black leggings that hugged your curves and a Nike sports bra, slipping into your most comfortable sneakers. You tied your hair into a sleek bun, then grabbed a baseball cap to shield your eyes from the Georgia sun. After grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30, you were just about to head out the door when your phone rang and you saw it was Sonya.

You sighed before answering, already bracing yourself. “What’s up, girl?”

“Mm, what you got going on today?” She asked, her tone full of suspicion, like she knew you were up to something.

“Just about to make a quick Target and BJ’s run,” You said casually, hoping she’d just let it go.

“Oh, perfect! I need to hit Target anyway! I’ll meet you there.” She stated. You internally cringed. Sonya didn’t know about Terry yet. And you definitely didn’t need her up in your cart asking a hundred questions about all the men’s products you were grabbing.

“Girl, I’m moving quick today,” You abruptly said, trying to throw her off. “Gotta be in and out, no time for browsing.”

“Please, you never just ‘run in’ anywhere,” Sonya scoffed. “I’ll keep up.”

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple.

“What?” She laughed. “Why you sound so stressed? You tryna move funny or somethin’?”

“You know I move funny, that ain’t new.”You let out a dry laugh.

“Mhm, and that’s exactly why I’m coming.” She snickered.

You sighed dramatically, knowing there was no way out of this now. “Fine, I’ll see you there,” You relented, already planning how you were going to strategically avoid letting her see all the things you were picking up for Terry. You hurried up and grabbed your car keys and your Stanley cup from your kitchen counter before heading right out the door to your car. You hit the unlock button on your key fob and heard the chirp. Sliding into the plush leather seat of your Mercedes-Benz, you place your Stanley cup in the cupholder before pressing the push-to-start button. The engine purrs to life, and before you can even adjust the air, the CarPlay screen lights up, immediately blasting the smooth, honeyed vocals of Maxwell’s “Fortunate” through the speakers.

Your heart leaps in excitement. “SING IT, MAXWELL!” You squeal, gripping the steering wheel and swaying your shoulders as if you’re right there on stage with him.

This is your song. Terry’s song. The one he always sings to you over the phone—completely off-key but with so much passion, like he’s pouring every piece of himself into it. You can still hear him now—“I never sang a song with all my might…”—his deep, rough voice twisting the lyrics into something that sounds nothing like Maxwell, but you never cared. It was him. It was you. It was love. You pull out of the driveway, easing onto the streets of Atlanta, the sun gleaming against the hood of your Benz. The beat of the song wraps around you, filling every inch of the car with warmth. With one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh, you let the city move around you, the skyline stretching high above as you feel the music, feel the love behind every lyric. Terry is coming home. Soon. And as Maxwell’s voice croons through the speakers, you let yourself dream—of slow dances in the living room, of his arms pulling you close as you sway to this very song, of him pressing soft kisses along your shoulder while mumbling the lyrics into your ear.You exhale, your lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It’s only a matter of time.

Pulling into the Target parking lot, you let out a long, heavy sigh, gripping the wheel as you mentally prepared yourself for Sonya. You loved your girl—no doubt about it. Sonya was one of those ride-or-die friends who would cut up with you on a Saturday night and pray with you on Sunday morning. But she was also the kind of woman who didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. She always had to be up in the mix, tasting the flavor, giving unsolicited advice even when it wasn’t needed. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to share Terry with your girls—because you did. He was your man, and you were proud of him.

But you wanted to make sure this was real. That this was happening. That he was actually going to be home before you started bragging and boasting about him to your family and friends. You couldn’t count how many times you’d gotten excited about a brotha, only for him to turn out to be a disappointment. And every time, you had to do the walk of shame, explaining to everyone that it didn’t work out. You hated the look of disappointment on your mother’s face, the I told you so smirk on your sister’s lips, and God forbid Sonya’s infamous, “I knew that nigga wasn’t shit.” speeches. And then there was Deja, who always chimed in with, “Girl, want me to get my cousin to kill him?”

You loved your girls, but the last two years had been a sacred kind of peace. You had cultivated this private, intense, deeply intimate relationship with Terry while he was behind bars, and there was something pure about keeping it just between the two of you. You knew that sometimes, outside influence could ruin a good thing, and you weren’t ready to share your world just yet. But if things aligned perfectly—if the odds were in your favor, if the judge signed off, and if God was looking out for you—then they would meet him the night of your birthday outing. You just hoped everything would fall into place. You hopped out of the car, grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 from the passenger seat and slinging it over your arm. Just as you shut the door, you spotted Sonya standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, her stance already radiating irritation. You took a deep inhale, bracing yourself, then walked over, greeting her with a quick hug.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, noticing her sour expression.

“Chile, my damn hairstylist just sent me that infamous ‘Hey boo’ text, and I just know it’s about to be some bullshit.” Sonya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I told you to stop going to her, Sonya. She’s unprofessional as hell and always canceling on you at the last minute.” You snorted and shook your head.

“I know, I know,” She whined dramatically, throwing her hands up. “But girl, she know how to lay my damn wigs. She makes that lace look like scalp! I do not wanna go to nobody else!”

You laughed, grabbing a cart and rolling into the store with her. You weren’t even five steps inside before you gave her a knowing look and smirked. “I don’t even know why you waste your time getting them wigs laid, knowing Omar gon’ pull that shit right off your head and have your lace looking crazy by the end of the night.”

“You ain’t lying, girl. You really ain’t lying.” Sonya stuck her tongue out at you before giggling, clearly thinking about how wild her and her man got.

You shook your head, laughing as you made your way toward the laundry aisle, grabbing detergent, fabric softener, and some cleaning products. You wanted the house to be

perfect for Terry’s homecoming—fresh sheets, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air, everything spotless for his arrival.

As you reached for a bottle of Febreze, Sonya nudged you. “So… you excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah… I really am.” You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. Truth be told you were more excited for Terry’s arrival than your own birthday. For as long as you could remember you weren’t the most excited to celebrate your birthday. To you, it was just another day and another reminder that you were leaving your glorious twenties and getting closer to hitting your dirty thirties. That is until Terry came into your life and shifted your perspective on life itself. He taught you that every birthday should be celebrated and that life is too short to not celebrate the breath in your lungs and waking up everyday. Especially with his circumstances and how his life got snatched from him because he chose to do the right thing and defend his mother’s honor against her abuser, but in the end it wasn’t so honorable and his dreams and young life got cut short with the snap of a finger. So this year you chose to have a better outlook on your birthday, thanks to your baby Terry.

You continued to move swiftly through Target, pushing your cart with concentration, mentally checking off everything Terry will need once he’s home. You start with the Dove Men+Care bar soap, grabbing a few packs because you know the fresh, clean scent will suit him. Next is the Old Spice body wash—the deep, rich, masculine fragrance makes you weak in the knees, so you know it’ll be perfect for him. You toss it in the cart, followed by men’s deodorant, mouthwash, and toothpaste—because even though you’ve never stood close enough to breathe him in, you already decided that your man will smell fresh, clean, and irresistible.

You head down the haircare aisle, running your fingers over the different bottles before settling on a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. You know prison air is dry as hell, and you’re not about to have your man coming home with his hair brittle and neglected. A large jar of Palmer’s whipped cocoa butter goes into the cart next—you love how smooth and rich it feels against your skin, and you can already picture yourself rubbing it into his arms, his shoulders, his hands… making sure he’s soft and well taken care of. Just as you’re reaching for a pack of Dude Wipes, Sonya turns from the next aisle, glancing over at your cart. She tilts her head, her perfectly arched brows raising as she takes in all the men’s products sitting inside.

“Uh-uh. Who’s all this for?” She asks, crossing her arms. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh!” You force out a laugh, thinking quick. “My sister’s in town with her fiancé, and they’re staying at my mom’s house. She needed some stuff to keep there for him.”

Sonya narrows her eyes for a second, then shrugs. “Oh okay, that makes sense. I was about to say, girl, you got a whole grown man’s starter kit in there.”

You laugh nervously, nodding as you grip the handle of your cart, pushing forward. Just when you think you’re in the clear, your phone buzzes in your purse. You glance down and see the caller ID: Terry’s lawyer. Your stomach instantly tightens. He already called earlier—so why is he calling again?

“Hey, hold on,” You tell Sonya, trying to keep your voice light. “I gotta take this real quick.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you at checkout.” Sonya waves you off, already distracted by something on the next shelf. Stepping out of the aisle, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answer, voice low.

“We’ve got a problem,” His lawyer says, his voice urgent.Your body stiffens.

“What? What happened?” You held your breath.

“There’s been an incident in the prison yard. Terry was involved.” He deeply sighs. Your heart plummets straight to your ass because you told this nigga—.

“WHAT?!” You shout, loud enough that people around you turn their heads. You clamp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

“I’m still gathering details,” His lawyer continues, “ But from what I’m hearing, there was some kind of altercation. If the judge catches wind of this, his release could be revoked… or at the very least, stalled.”

The words ring in your ears, drowning out the noise of the store. Revoked?! Stalled?!Your hands start to tremble on the cart handle, your vision blurring with tears. Just when you thought you were so close to having him home—just when everything was falling into place—here comes some bullshit.

“Please… just tell me he’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“I really don’t know. I’m working on it. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He sighed again, sounding defeated. Then the line goes dead, making you tear up. You stood frozen in the middle of Target, your world spinning, your stomach in knots. And just like that, everything you had been dreaming of, praying for, feels like it’s slipping right through your fingers.

This couldn't be happening right now, not right now....

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ruewritesoccasionally · 3 months ago

Text

Welcome to the Neighbourhood | Terry Richmond

pairings: neighbour!terry richmond x neighbour!black reader

warnings: smut 18+, fluff, slow burn (if you squint), slightly rough/dom!terry - lmk if you think i missed anything else

summary: ready to put shelby springs behind him, terry ventures to start afresh - new job and new neighbourhood but the last thing he was expecting was to have an attractive neighbour waltz in and send his head spinning

word count: 5.4K

Shelby Springs had taken everything from him—his peace, his purpose, his faith in people. But Terrance Richmond wasn’t a man to let the past define him. He had to rebuild, brick by brick, until there was nothing left of the anger, pain, or memories that weighed him down. Once he’d made his peace, routine became his salvation. If there was one thing Terry wasn’t, it was idle.

Standing at 6’2, with muscles that didn’t come from sitting still, he carried himself with the discipline of a former Marine. He threw himself into rebuilding his life with the same focus, which is why the executive protection job posting felt like fate. It was an opportunity to start over. A new job, a new city—it wasn’t nature like he was used to, but he wasn’t about to say no to a clean slate.

The last of the moving boxes sat stacked on his driveway, waiting to be carried inside. As Terry hoisted one of the heavier ones, headlights flashed across his yard, catching his attention. His eyes followed the movements of a woman stepping out of a car, her keys in hand. If his hands hadn’t instinctively tightened around the box, the fine China inside would’ve been in pieces on the pavement.

Damn. She was... striking. The kind of striking that rooted a man to the spot and left his thoughts a tangled mess.

The pantsuit she wore clung to her figure in all the right ways, while soft curls framed her face like a work of art. Then she smiled, and he was done for.

She approached with a confident stride, her voice soft but laced with a teasing edge that only added to her allure. “Hey,” she said, flashing him an easy smile—the kind that could charm just about anyone. “Looks like they finally found someone to take the place. Congrats. I’m in a rush right now, but I get off work at 6. I’ll swing by to properly introduce myself—if that’s cool with you?”

Terry fumbled between a nod and a simple word of agreement, finally managing a quick, “Yeah, sounds good,” before she turned and climbed into her car.

She waved as she drove off, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

She knew she had a wicked flirt game, and today’s outfit choice was clearly the right one. As she headed to the office, an unusually good mood accompanied her. She couldn’t help but think about her new neighbour—broad shoulders, brooding eyes, and a quiet intensity that lingered even in their brief interaction.

Her curiosity burned through the day like a steady flame. Who was he? What was his story? And most importantly, would he be sticking around?

Terry tried to shake her out of his head as he tackled the last of the boxes. But it was no use. Her voice, her smile—they’d already sunk into his mind, leaving him restless and curious. 6 o��clock couldn’t come fast enough.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the neighbourhood, when YN pulled into her driveway, a sense of anticipation bubbling in her chest. Work had been exhausting, but the thought of properly meeting her new neighbour had been the highlight of her day. She stepped into her house, kicked off her heels, and immediately headed for the shower. The warm water was a welcome relief, washing away the day's tension and leaving her feeling refreshed.

Dressed in something comfortable yet flattering—because first impressions mattered, even if she wasn’t technically trying—YN made her way into the kitchen. Cooking was a distraction, a way to channel her nerves into something productive. She whipped up a quick but hearty meal, pairing it with some baked goods she’d had stashed away. It was a neighbourly gesture, sure, but she’d also seen him. And let’s just say that the mysterious, rugged man across the street had piqued her curiosity.

Balancing the food containers carefully in her hands, YN walked across to his house. The porch light was on, a warm glow illuminating the otherwise quiet street. She knocked twice, stepping back as she waited.

Inside, Terry had been pacing his living room for the past fifteen minutes, glancing at the clock and then the front door as if he could will someone to show up. He’d told himself it was silly, but the memory of their brief interaction that morning had stayed with him all day. She was charming, poised, and stunning, and the idea of seeing her again had stirred something in him he couldn’t quite name.

When the knock finally came, he opened the door to find her standing there, her smile lighting up the dimming evening. His expression softening into something she could only describe as relief. His eyes flicked down to the food in her hands, then back up to her face, his lips twitching as though he were fighting the urge to smile.

For a split second, neither of them spoke, just taking each other in. Then, at the same time, they both blurted out their names.

"Terrance Richmond." "YN."

The words collided, and they both paused before bursting into laughter.

"No, you go," she said, waving a hand for him to continue.

He shook his head with a small, amused smile. "No, you first. I insist."

She gave in, introducing herself again, this time with a little less fluster. “Sorry about the rush this morning. I was running late for work. I figured I’d make it up to you by bringing some dinner—just thought I’d save you the trouble of cooking or ordering in tonight.”

Terry raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but not ungrateful. “That’s... really kind of you. Thank you.” He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in.

YN wasn’t sure what she’d expected—half-packed boxes or chaos, maybe—but his house was already well put together. Everything had its place, and the space looked cosy, even lived-in.

“You’ve been busy,” she remarked, glancing around.

Terry followed her gaze, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I couldn’t keep still. Needed to get everything done.”

The motion of his hand raised the hem of his shirt just enough to reveal a sliver of his abdomen, and her breath hitched involuntarily at the sight. He was... sculpted, to say the least. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the deep heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Terry noticed—of course, he noticed. His lips quirked into a subtle smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You okay over there?” he teased, his voice dipping lower.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally fine,” she stammered, mentally cursing herself. Way to keep it together, YN.

“Kitchen’s this way,” he said, leading her further inside.

In the kitchen, she set the food down on the counter while Terry rummaged through a cabinet for plates and cutlery.

“Wine or whiskey?” he asked, holding up a tumbler in one hand and a wine glass in the other.

She tilted her head, eyeing him playfully. “You strike me as the rough-around-the-edges whiskey type. But I could be wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “And you strike me as the sophisticated wine type. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

She laughed softly, choosing the wine glass. “Maybe just a little bit of both,” she said, holding up her glass in a mock toast.

Dinner passed with ease, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them. She learned about his time in the Marines, his decision to move to the city, and his plans to settle into a new routine. In turn, he listened intently as she spoke about her work as a lawyer and the challenges that came with it.

“Why executive protection?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to his glass. “It seemed like the right move. I needed something to focus on, something to ground me after...I guess I wanted to keep helping people… just without all the…” He gestured vaguely, his voice trailing off.

She nodded, understanding the weight of what he wasn’t saying. “That makes sense. You’re a protector. It suits you.”

Instead, she smiled softly, changing the subject to something lighter. “Well, I think the neighbourhood gossip will be all over you in no time. New guy, good-looking, and clearly handy with a moving box? You’re prime material.”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “And here I thought I’d be flying under the radar.”

“Not a chance,” she teased, raising her glass.

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation, the initial awkwardness fading into a comfortable rhythm. By the time the food was gone and the wine bottle nearly empty, she realised how late it had gotten.

“I should let you get some rest,” she said, standing and gathering her things.

Terry walked her to the door, his presence warm and steady beside her. “Thanks for coming over. And for dinner. You didn’t have to, but... it means a lot.”

She smiled, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard. “It’s my turn to host next time,” she said, stepping out onto the porch.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

As she walked back to her house, she felt his eyes on her, and when she reached her front door, she turned to find him still standing there, waiting. She gave him a small wave before stepping inside, and only then did he close his door.

Back in her kitchen, she leaned against the counter, her thoughts lingering on Terrance Richmond—the man who’d somehow managed to make an ordinary evening feel anything but.

It had been two months of playful banter, stolen moments, and a rhythm they’d fallen into so effortlessly it felt like second nature. Their evenings were a mix of wholesome exploration and daring escapades—her showing him the city from her unique perspective. Quiet cafés tucked into alleys, her favourite jazz bar that always felt alive no matter the hour, daring rooftop views that made her heart race as much as his lingering glances. Terry soaked it all in, learning her through the places she loved.

And then there were the nights. Nights when she’d invite him into her world, sharing wine and laughter, their knees brushing under the table, their gazes holding just a beat too long. Nights when he’d introduce her to the simplicities he cherished: an old movie, a game of cards, or just sitting on his porch with whiskey and comfortable silence. The friendship that brewed between them was comforting, but the undercurrent of something more was undeniable.

He didn’t mind bending the rules, like ignoring speed limits to race home just to catch her as she pulled into her driveway. There was something magnetic about the sight of her at the end of a long day. The way she’d stride out of her car, hair loosened from its bun, buttons of her blouse slightly undone, her lips still stained with that red lipstick that drove him wild. It was like she carried the day’s fire with her, igniting something in him without even trying. He’d lean against his porch, offering her a nightcap with that low, smooth voice of his, and she’d grin, the tension of her day easing away.

She had never been more grateful that Terry’s job required him to wear a suit. Seeing him waiting for her in all his tall, broad-shouldered glory, tie loosened, dark stormy eyes carrying a story from the day, was a sight she never grew tired of. Her eyes would linger, tracing the outline of his strong frame and sharp jawline. Even the way he held himself—calm, composed—was intoxicating. Their usual routine of “Hey, stranger. Fancy seeing you here,” never got old, but there was something different about today.

She parked her car with noticeably less energy, the weight of her day evident in the slight slump of her shoulders. Terry caught it immediately. He leaned against his porch, the usual playful smirk tugging at his lips, but it faded when she approached.

“Hey, stranger,” he said softly, his voice warm but cautious.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she replied, but her tone lacked its usual spark. Her eyes flickered to his, and though her lips curved into a faint smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, taking a step closer.

She exhaled, shaking her head lightly. “Rough day. I don’t think I’m up for anything tonight.”

He nodded, though disappointment briefly flickered across his features. “I get it. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Terry,” she said, her voice soft as she turned toward her door.

He watched her retreat into her house, resisting the urge to follow. Respecting her space was the right thing to do, but it didn’t stop the lingering ache in his chest. Something felt off, and it wasn’t just her mood—it was the absence of her presence.

Back in his house, Terry tried to distract himself. He pushed through an intense workout in his home gym, the rhythm of his heart pounding in his ears as he lifted, punched, and ran his frustration away. But no amount of sweat could shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Showered and changed into a snug grey T-shirt and sweatpants, he found himself pacing his living room. The hours stretched, and the silence grew unbearable. It was stupid—he felt like barely knew her but they had spent so much time together that being apart for the one night felt wrong, and the thought of her being upset made him restless. Finally, he grabbed a bottle of wine and decided to check on her. If nothing else, she deserved someone to talk to.

Terry knocked twice, the bottle balanced in his hand. The sound of footsteps reached him, and when the door swung open, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

She stood there, framed by the warm glow of her house, wrapped in a silk negligee the colour of deep mauve. The fabric flowed from her shoulders, clinging to her curves in a way that made his breath hitch. It accentuated the fullness of her breasts, the gentle dip of her waist, and the teasing slit that revealed her smooth, toned thigh. Her dark skin shimmered against the luxurious fabric, and her loose hair framed her face like a crown.

He stared, momentarily dumbfounded. “I, uh...” His usual composure failed him.

Her lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the tiredness in her eyes. “Terry,” she said softly, “are you okay?”

He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “I just... I wanted to check on you. You seemed off earlier.”

Her expression softened, her fingers brushing against the doorframe. “I’m okay. Just needed some time to breathe.”

He held up the bottle. “I figured you might still need that nightcap. But if this is a bad time—”

She stepped aside, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not.”

He walked in, acutely aware of how close their bodies brushed as he passed her. The faint scent of her perfume—warm, sensual, with a hint of spice—wrapped around him, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

As she closed the door, she turned to face him, her head tilted slightly. “Thanks for checking on me. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

He set the bottle on the counter, turning to face her with a small shrug. “I’m not most people.”

Her smile widened, the tension of her day beginning to unravel. “No, you’re not.”

And there it was again—that spark, that unspoken pull between them. The air felt heavier, charged with something they both knew they couldn’t ignore much longer.

The room was cloaked in a heady tension that neither of them could escape. She leaned against the counter, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the cool marble surface as she watched him pour the wine. His tall, commanding frame moved with an easy grace that was almost hypnotic, the tight grey T-shirt clinging to his broad chest and shoulders, highlighting every muscle. His stormy blue-grey eyes caught the light for a fleeting second as he glanced up, and they seemed to darken when they met hers.

"Rough day, huh?" His voice was deep, smooth, and rich, yet there was an edge to it, like he was holding something back.

"Yeah," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the way his big hands gripped the bottle. Those hands. She tried to focus on what he was saying, but her mind betrayed her, wandering to how they might feel against her skin, firm yet gentle, exploring every inch of her.

"You don’t talk about work much," he said, leaning casually against the opposite counter, though there was nothing casual about the way his eyes roamed her figure. His gaze lingered on the curve of her waist, the silk of her negligee clinging to her full breasts and cascading down to her thick thighs. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but his focus never wavered.

"Work’s work," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. The usual playfulness in her tone was replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if it was from his smouldering gaze or the thoughts racing through her mind.

"That’s fair," he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk, though his voice had dropped an octave. He took a sip of his wine, his sharp jaw flexing slightly as he tilted his head back. She could barely breathe.

The air between them felt thick, electric. Every glance, every subtle movement was charged with an intensity that neither of them could ignore. She wanted to say something, anything, but her eyes kept drifting to his lips, full and smooth, and how easily they curved into that devastatingly charming smile. She wondered what they’d feel like against hers, how they’d taste.

"You seem... distracted," he teased, his voice low and husky.

She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Says the man who hasn’t stopped staring."

"You’re hard not to stare at," he admitted, his tone serious now.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand. "You’re not so bad yourself," she said, her voice steady despite the wild thrum in her chest.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was suffocating in the best way. The kind of silence that demanded action, that begged for release.

And then it happened.

He set his glass down with a soft clink and took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. "You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough, raw with restraint. "Seeing you every morning, looking so damn fine, so put together... And then at night, when you come to mine, when you let your guard down and laugh like the world hasn’t put you through hell that day... I’m here, losing my mind over you, woman."

Her breath hitched, her wide eyes searching his stormy gaze. His words were like gasoline to the fire already burning inside her. "Terry..." she started, but the words caught in her throat.

"No," he cut her off gently, his big hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing along her jaw. "Let me say this. From the first day I saw you, I knew you were gonna ruin me. And you have. I can’t think straight when you’re around, and when you’re not..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to her lips.

She felt her chest tighten, her own thoughts spinning out of control. "I’ve liked you since day one," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

His lips quirked into a soft, almost disbelieving smile. "Yeah?"

She nodded, her cheeks warm. "Yeah."

That was all he needed to hear.

His lips crashed against hers, and everything else melted away. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until her soft curves were pressed firmly against his muscular frame. She moaned softly into the kiss, her hands exploring the expanse of his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Terry," she gasped as his lips trailed to her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine.

"You’re perfect," he murmured against her skin, his hands roaming over her thick thighs, her generous hips, memorising every part of her. "So damn perfect."

Her fingers tangled in his short, dark hair as he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter, his lips returning to hers with a fervour that left her breathless. The silk of her negligee rode up, baring more of her dark, supple skin to his touch.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he rasped, his stormy eyes locking with hers as his hand slid up her thigh.

"Show me," she whispered, her voice dripping with desire.

And he did. The tension that had been building for months finally erupted, their movements urgent yet unhurried, savouring every touch, every kiss, every moment. It was the turning page they’d both been waiting for, the start of something they both knew would change everything.

The moment between them burned hotter as they moved upstairs, their lips locked in a fiery kiss that only deepened with each step. Breathless moans filled the spaces where their mouths parted, the sound mingling with the faint creak of the stairs. Terry’s strong arms tightened around her, lifting her effortlessly. Her thighs instinctively clasped around his waist, holding on to him as if her life depended on it. Her fingers found their way under his t-shirt, her fingertips brushing against the hard ridges of his back muscles, revelling in the sheer strength he carried so easily.

His grip on her waist was firm, his large hands branding her as his own, sending a thrilling pulse through her body that promised to linger long after tonight. His touch roamed with purpose, tracing the swell of her thighs and the curve of her hips. When his palm landed on her ass with a sharp slap, followed by a teasing squeeze, she gasped into his mouth, her body arching into him. Terry let out a deep, gravelly chuckle, the sound dripping with satisfaction, as if her every reaction was fuel to the fire raging within him.

With his lips trailing down her jaw, then returning to claim her mouth, he blindly led them toward her bedroom. His back pressed against the door as he maneuvered it open, never breaking their heated connection. Once inside, Terry seated himself at the edge of her bed, pulling her closer onto his lap. She straddled him, her negligee riding higher, teasing them both. Her nails running over his short, dark hair, dragging them just enough to make him groan deeply, the sound vibrating between them. His large hands explored her curves freely now, roaming the softness of her body like a man starved.

As their lips crashed together again, Terry’s control snapped. With an effortless move, he flipped her onto her back, his strength leaving her breathless. The sudden shift made her gasp, her hair splaying out across the sheets as she looked up at him. His body hovered above hers, broad and muscular, his chest rising and falling as he stared down at her. The look on his face—raw, unfiltered desire—sent a thrill through her core. His eyes darkened with lust, his brows knit together in a mixture of longing and determination.

“Terry...” she whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of the moment, her body humming with anticipation.

He lowered himself, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her collarbone before moving to her ear. His voice, deep and husky, made her shiver. “You don’t know what you do to me, YN,” he repeated. “Not being able to touch you like this.”

Her breath hitched, his confession sending waves of heat coursing through her body. Her hands gripped his biceps, feeling the tension coiled in him, the restraint he had fought for so long finally slipping. "Terry," she whispered again, her voice soft yet laced with her own need.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he rasped, his gaze trailing over her. “Every damn curve... your thighs, your hips... these gorgeous lips I can’t stop thinking about. You’re driving me insane, YN.”

She grew needier, her dark skin glowing under the low light of the room. Her hands roamed across his back, her nails lightly grazing his skin as she pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word sent sparks flying between them, a tangible current neither could resist.

“Show what you’ve been wanting to do to me”, she breathlessly said.

That was all the permission Terry needed, he lowered his body down hers stopping at her thighs and slowly pusher lingerie up body signalling for her to raise arms so he could undress her. Eyes taking in every detail and she almost shied under his lustful gaze, but he quietened thoughts as he dipped his head down and his mouth parted to envelope the nipple that called for his attention. He bit, licked, sucked and swirled, teasing that bud and showing the other one the same love – “this is what you were hiding me, angel?” His voice, so many decibels lower she almost didn’t recognise it.

“Out of words already, baby? Don’t worry, I’ve got something that’ll bring that voice back”

YN watched as his hands travelled and worked down her body, lighting a trail of fire in their wake. They moved with such expertise, like he had time to study what made her wet – either that or she was just entirely ready for him. Her panties did nothing to disguise her puffy lips or the slickness that dampened the front, she would’ve been embarrassed if she wasn’t so turned on but this was a long time coming.

Terry's lips worked their way down her body, slow and purposeful, leaving a searing trail of anticipation in their wake. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he spread her legs wider, his firm grip sending shivers through her. His stormy eyes flicked up to meet hers, a silent yet urgent question. She responded by gripping the back of his head, guiding him exactly where she needed him most.

He hungrily obeyed, his tongue moving with an aggressive precision that mirrored her unspoken desire. Every stroke was deliberate, every flick of his tongue a testament to his singular focus on her pleasure. His large hands slid up her thighs, his grip firm and grounding as her body trembled beneath him.

Her nails grazed the smooth skin at the back of his head, her soft cries urging him on, and he fed on every sound she made like it was a reward. The way she arched into him, her breathless gasps and whispered curses, only drove him further. He was relentless, addicted to the way she tasted, the way her body writhed under his control.

“Terry…” she moaned, her voice breaking as he increased the pressure, his tongue and lips working in perfect rhythm. He felt her thighs quake against his shoulders, her body teetering on the edge.

“Come on, YN,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his voice sending her spiraling. “I want to feel it. Let go for me.”

With a cry that echoed through the room, she shattered, her release coursing through her like a wave. Terry didn’t stop, prolonging her pleasure, tasting every part of her as though he couldn’t get enough. And as he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at her with a dark, satisfied smirk.

Terry’s gaze was locked on her, dark and burning with intensity. She was already bare before him, her body glowing in the low light, every curve and line drawing him in like a man possessed. He knelt on the bed, his knees framing hers, and his hand traced the side of her thigh, firm and deliberate.

“I don’t know how I kept control this whole time,” he muttered, his voice laced with restrained desire. Grabbing her wrist, he guided her hand to the thick length straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched as her fingers instinctively wrapped around him. His jaw clenched at the contact, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“I’m ready to put this where it belongs,” he growled, his voice rough, primal. He stood, his movements deliberate as he tugged off his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion. When he stood before her, completely bare, her mouth went dry, her pulse racing. His body was a perfect balance of strength and masculinity—toned, powerful, and overwhelming in every sense of the word.

She couldn’t stop the breathless moan of his name. “Terry…” she whimpered, her voice a mix of pleading and desperation.

She reached for him, her nails grazing over the hard ridges of his abs, earning a sharp hiss as he captured her wrist again. His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her toward him as he rolled his body against hers, letting her feel every inch of his arousal pressing into her. She gasped, the friction igniting something primal in her.

“Are you ready to take all of me?” his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Before she could respond, he flipped her onto her stomach with ease, his hands tugging her hips back toward him. A surprised gasp escaped her, quickly replaced by a low moan as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, his teeth grazing her skin. One hand pressed into the small of her back, pinning her in place, while the other slid up her thigh, rough and demanding.

She lifted her head slightly, her eyes catching the mirror across the room. The sight of their bodies intertwining—the dominance in his stance, the way her body responded to his every touch—made her breath hitch. Her body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the heat and tension building between them.

But just as his fingers trailed higher, grazing her most sensitive spot, he stilled. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, and his tone softened, though the intensity remained.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I need to hear it, YN.”

Her body writhed beneath him, every nerve alight with need. “I want this… and you. I need it, T. Please,” she pleaded, her voice desperate, her core weeping and throbbing for him.

That was all he needed. In one smooth, deliberate motion, he thrust into her, filling her completely. She cried out, her fingers clutching the sheets as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. He didn’t give her a moment to recover, his movements relentless and precise, each thrust stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “Taking me so perfectly. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Her head lolled to the side, her cries and moans echoing in the room. She could barely form a coherent response, her mind clouded with nothing but him. Instead, she let her body speak for her, meeting his movements with equal fervour, the sound of their bodies colliding only heightening the intensity.

As her body tightened around him, the pressure building to an unbearable peak, he slowed. His hand slid around to cup her face, turning her head so he could kiss her. It wasn’t rough like before—it was slow, deep, and tender, a kiss that felt like a promise. Her body trembled, her moan muffled against his lips as her release overtook her, crashing over her in waves.

He followed soon after, a guttural groan escaping him as he buried himself deeper, his grip on her waist tightening. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their laboured breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets.

Finally, he collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. His lips pressed against her forehead, the tenderness in the gesture a stark contrast to the passion they’d just shared.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.

She nodded, her cheek pressed against his chest as her breathing slowly steadied. “More than okay,” she murmured, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Good,” he said, his voice low but warm. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The promise lingered in the air, and she couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree as she nestled closer to him, feeling completely and utterly content.

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

and take a shot for every time i mentioned 'stormy' or 'eyes' loooool

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x black!reader #aaron pierre x black!oc #rebel ridge #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x black! reader #terry richmond x black!oc #aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre fanfic #terry richmond smut #terry richmond fic #ruewrites

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artsninspo · 26 days ago

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009 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 008 | ⇚ terrance's interlude

♠ summary: After the events of Monaco Lorence and Terrance find themselves drawn to one another. They try to find their footing, with their evolving dynamics. This one is angsty and fluffy with some 🌶️ , enjoy!

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~4.2K

⌖ - Safe house, Undisclosed Location

It all happens in a flash, multiple sets of concerned eyes moving me quickly into the hospital wing of a safe house. I’m given oxygen and asked a flurry of questions by a woman before my dress is taken off and she checks my suit for breaches. There’s none but there are splotches of varying colours on my body. The most notable of which are where I feel pain. My hip, my chest and my wrist. She gets a polaroid taking the photos as she spins me around. I don't feel present in my own body as she catalogues injuries saying things like glass and bullets are the cause. She has me sit as I hear Cassandra cursing in another room, she checks my legs and there’s nothing to be found. She goes to my feet and winces before swiping the bottom of the suit and chards of glass fall on the floor.

“She took off her heels,” Richmonds voice says, startling me. I come to focus on him in the corner looking murderous.

“How’s Cassandra?” I ask.

“Bad sprain and a fat lip” the doctor said when I was asking Terry.

“Do I have permission to photograph your injuries for our records?” she asks.

“Perform her assessment first” Terry says still in the corner of the room. The doctor huffs but whatever she thinks she keeps it to herself.

“Can you walk?” The doctor asks.

“Yes,” I respond.

“I’ll get her a chair” Terry says leaving.

“Change into this” she says handing me a hospital gown. I head behind a screen and I don't realize how sore I am until the suit comes off. The moment it does I wonder if there’s more technology then I was aware of. No longer compressed, my hip starts to throb. The eggplant purple watercolour hues on my hip tell me bruising is the reality. I’m given plush slippers and hand her my suit once I'm out of it. Terry Emerges taking a look at it as I sit in the chair.

“Mr. Richmond, the team can take it from here. She’ll be getting tests to evaluate her injuries - just like Cassandra.” The doctor says.

“He needs medical attention too, he has a shard of glass in his stomach” I say with a voice that hardly sounds like my own.

“Let me take care of that for you.” Another doctor says standing.

“Make it quick,” he says harshly. I sit as I’m wheeled into a room where imaging technology is. I spend the next hour undergoing x-rays and full body scans to make sure everything is as it should be. It’s not the best course of action with all the swelling bound at impact points but it’s protocol. After my scans, comes the photo catalog of my injuries with polaroids. Then I’m sitting giving a debrief to the medical and tactical teams. Once it’s done I’m given pain management and brought to a room quite the opposite of the one overlooking the sea in Monaco. It’s devoid of all charm and has the same brutalist design and minimalism of this safehouse. I pad to the sprawling window slowly only to realize I have none of my things. No purse, no phone, nothing. I sigh looking out the large window, the way its panes tell me it's secure and no one in the outside world can see inside. But there's nothing but fields and hills for as far as I can see. The cool concrete floors feel soothing against my feet. I make my way to the couch and use the ice packs on my hips and wrist. I’m thankful to walk away with my life and no major breaks. My wrist is slightly sprained according to the imaging but there is nothing wrong with my hip bone. That asshole I tried to help shot me three times. Three. It’s not lost on me how lucky I am he didn’t aim for my head. I hear noise and tense until I see Terry coming in with my purse in hand. I can't help the tears that threaten and he sits beside me pulling me into him. It’s only the second time but it’s everything with what I know now. With the sacrifice he made for my well being. I scoot in closer.

“You’re safe,” he promises.

“How’s Cassandra?” I ask again.

“Pissed, her ankle is fractured and her birthday is in a few weeks” he says, causing me to pull back. I see a smirk in his expression, he’s never been one for levity. His thumbs brush against my cheeks wiping my tears away.

“I have to make sure the team is okay but if you need anything - you come look for me okay or send me a message” he says, tapping my purse. I nod going in it and finding my work and personal phone. I look up into his blue grey eyes and hesitate because thank you doesn't begin to encompass my gratitude for his actions.

“Don't” he says seemingly reading my mind. “I’m sorry” he says.

“For what?”

“Not getting you out sooner” he says trying to hide pain. He looks away from me and I don't know what makes me brave enough to reach out and touch Terrance Richmond but I do. I reach out, turning his face back to mine, his goatee tickling my palms.

“You got me out” I tell him and he surprises me when he places a kiss on my inner wrist - the one that's sprained. I look at my wrist in a daze for a moment before alarm flashes in his expression and he backs out of my touch.

“I’m sorry” he says standing like he overstepped. It's proof of how lost he is in our dynamic. Knowing what I know now I send him a life vest instead of leaving him to his own devices and drowning.

“That was nice … I thought I told you I like nice” I tell him and he takes a moment before his muscles relax and a half smile returns. He takes a step closer looking down at me and I pat the empty space on the couch where he was just sitting. He follows suit sitting back down beside me. “Thank you” I tell him and he reaches for the ice backs placing one on my hip exactly where the impact was and he wraps the other around my wrist. I never took him for a caregiver but I let him, enjoying the affection and attention more than I should. He looks at his handiwork before some horror I know nothing about takes him out of the present. I know PTSD when I see it. Quiet swells in the space between us until I make out the sound of birds chirping.

“Birds only sing when it’s safe” I tell him and he looks at me. It takes a moment before he’s back and the Terrance Richmond I've come to know.

“Do you feel safe with me?” he asks and for a man of few words as it relates to feelings I realize it must be important. If he had asked me two weeks ago the answer would be an unequivocal no but things have changed.

“Yes” I affirm without a doubt and this time he doesn't kiss my wrist. He leans in and kisses me. It takes me by surprise at first the way his index finger maneuvers gently under my chin to better the angle. The feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of him, the softness of his touch. But then the kisses end too soon, his eyes search mine for affirmation or rejection but the events of the past 12 hours has my brain fried.

“I should go,” he says.

“No” I swallow watching him closely. Logic has saved me from so much emotional perils that I’m not the girl who can just act freely. It’s a hazard, or it has been and for some reason I can’t just say that to him. I scoot closer to him, the man who was until very recently the bane of my existence and is quickly becoming the object of my desire. “I want to kiss you but I also want to cry, and curl up in a ball and call my mom and be in my own place and out of this craziness. But believe me, I want to kiss you” I explain, possibly killing the vibes.

“You don't have to explain,” he says.

“You put yourself in front of gun fire for me Terrance, I can be transparent” I tell him and he smiles.

“I want to kiss you too” he says in a timbre deeper than usual. “More than just kiss you actually” he sighs. “But I can wait,” he says.

I let myself go, I let myself feel. I let instinct and passion win out as I brought his lips back to where they were on mine. He pulls me in closer, parting my lips and slipping his tongue in my mouth. He kisses me hard, taking control and burning through the chill of shock. The tension building is electric and somehow reboots my senses. My body tingles as he uses his tongue to draw a soft moan out of me. He pulls me in closer, trailing the kiss down to my neck before dipping it where the glass hit under my breast. I steady my breath watching him lost in thought I'll never know as he kisses the bruises better. Gone is the blank slate and his signature unreadable expression. He makes his way back up kissing me like it's the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. It's a new experience, hearts racing with no rush to get naked. Richmond’s warm up is intoxicating, my lips burn as he gives me reprieve again kissing down my neck again marking me as his; laying his claim. He’s got me holding back moans with closed eyes from the teasing kisses he’s trailing down my neck when a startling beep causes us to pull apart.

His chest rises and falls as he tries to place it and I find the heart monitor on me is going off. His tablet sounds at the same time.

“Richmond, Cole's vitals are spiking. I’m on my way to her.” the doctor's voice says.

“I’m in here, she’s stabilizing.” he says back once he’s turned on his earpiece. “Boss… please don’t push. She needs stability after what her heart just went through.” I hear the doctor say. It makes me smile a little. I guess the entire organization at this level knows we’re oil and water. I see Richmond isn't too fond of the orders and peck his lips once more.

“Noted” he responds back before turning off his reception. My lips, mind and body want more but I don't push. Richmond on the other hand comes in for another kiss, he takes my chin in hand and kisses me so sensually I feel it in my toes. When he pulls away I rest my forehead against his, taking a moment to catch my breath again.

It takes two minutes for my heart rate to go back to its pre-kiss normal. Instead of leaving me in the room alone Richmond takes me to Cassandra’s. She definitely looks like what she’s going through. But we’re both drained and short of rest. She welcomes me relieved and I learn she fractured her ankle running - she wasn’t as quick as I was to ditch her stilettos. She's on so much medication, she falls asleep first. I cover her over making myself comfortable in the oversized bed.

“I’m in the conference room if you need me. Call me” he says, placing an earpiece onto the nightstand.

“Please, let's get back to HQ before we retaliate” I tell him before exhaustion takes me.

“Ok” I hear before feeling a kiss on my forehead. The bed shifts and Terry is gone.

…........................................................................................................

⌖ - Lorence's Home

Terrance Richmond.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about him, what he did for me, and that kiss since we left each other at the private airport. It’s been three days and I feel like I’m seventeen again. I want him around and to feel the full scope of the butterflies without the haze of painkillers. In my defence, the dreamy look Sincere has in her eyes as I repeat the events of the Monaco trip doesn't help.

“Shit Lorence now I need a man to go all superhero to save me” she whines laying back on the bed and I smile. “Why isn't he here?” she asks and I shrug.

“He’s busy…”

“Babe, be so real. If bullets were not a factor I’m pretty sure if you call, he’ll come” she says getting up and handing me my phone. I head to our text thread. It's been an extremely mature conversation, no heat or familiarity aside from the fact that there are goodnight and good morning texts. “Don't text him, call him and tell him to come here.” Sincere instructs me.

“Ma and dad and a bunch of our nutty family members are downstairs” I remind her.

“And...”

“RIchmond isn't good with people,” I tell her honestly.

“Lorence, for as smart as you are, sometimes you need to let me think for you.” she says, calling him. She holds the phone out of reach exploiting my injuries and only hands it to me once it's ringing. Richmond picks up on the third ring.

“Lorence, are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah” I say and Sincere motions for me to invite him over.

“If you are free today, I have some family over and they want to thank you. It’s nothing formal at all.”

I want to see you! Sincere mouths.

“I want to see you” I utter words that I would be hard pressed to say to anyone else.

“Can I bring anything? Are you running low on anything?” he asks.

“No, everythings good, thanks.” I smile.

“Alright I’ll be over there in an hour” he says before I can send him my address and I remember he already knows everything.

“Text me when you're close” I tell him.

“See you soon”

“See you in a bit” I respond hanging up

When the text comes in, so does the butterflies. I don’t remember ever being so giddy. I make my way downstairs slowly before finding my family milling around. I head to the front door and see Terry exiting his truck with an extra large floral bouquet of long stem pink roses that looks bigger than half my size in one hand and a bottle in another. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a white t-shirt with a gold chain. I feel my chest rise and fall as I appreciate his casual attire. I’m so used to seeing him in suits, slacks and smart casual.

“And he knows better than to come empty handed, point for him” Sincere whispers by my side. By the time he gets to the door my cousins and aunts have risen.

“Someone get Nate and the boys out of here. Someone ordered a fine ass stripper” Sincere’s mom aunt Kaye says and I shake my head, because hers is definitely screwed on wrong. I find the man in question smirking and I know he’s heard it too.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, ignoring the fanfare.

“Better, thank you” I smile as he goes to hand me the flowers but then his eyes go on my wrist and he withdraws.

“I’ll take them. I’m Sincere.” Sin smiles holding out her hands for the Flowers.

“Terrance Richmond” he says handing her the bouquet.

“Lorence, who is this?” Kaye asks sashaying over.

“Everyone, this is Terrance Richmond, Lolo’s boss. You know the one who got our baby girl out of harm's way.” Sincere announces.

“No wonder she’s always working” I hear one of the girls mutter. It be your own folks. I start regretting my decision to invite him until my dad rounds the corner.

“Nathaniel Cole, Lorence’s father. Thank you for what you did.” He says introducing himself.

“No problem Sir” Terry says, shaking his hand respectfully. More relatives including my mom come up and swarm Terry with thanks and appreciation for his actions.

“Are all the men at your work fine?” One of my cousins asks.

“More or less” I nod honestly and she rolls her eyes at me.

“Your self control makes me sick” she says, making a face at me. Sincere comes back the floral scissors and two large vases to house the extra large bouquet. A few of us style them together and I smile looking around. My place looks like a florist shop. I’m grateful to everyone who’s rallied around me since I’ve been back making sure I’m comfortable and want for nothing. I look up and find Terry sitting with a beer in hand among the guys and looking at me. I send him a smile and he smiles back. Never in a million years could I have predicted this or that Terry could even be civil around people without scowling and barking orders. The get together continues and I find Terry endearing my parents and the other elders with mild manners that are foreign to me. All the Sirs and Ma’ams have them swooning.

“Lolo come see our cheer routine” Kezia, one of my younger cousins, says bounding in.

“Okay” I smile getting up. She pulls my hand.

“Not so fast Kez!” Sin snaps. “Slow down Lo’s hurt, remember.”

“It’s her other hand!” Kez snaps at her older sister.

“Her hip too!” Sin snaps back.

“Whatever, I’m sorry Lo” Kez says, rolling her eyes at her older sister before apologizing to me. I smile heading onto the deck only to see the kids assembled on the back lawn. I know the stairs will be easy to descend but will kick my ass getting back up.

“I’ll watch from up here” I smile before smelling his cologne.

“I can lift you down if you want?” Terry says.

“Who’s he?” Kez asks.

“My boss,” I explain.

“Oh, well yeah lift her down please and be careful” Kez says leading the way. He lifts me like Rafiki lifts simba in the lion king but not as high off the ground. I think back to him on the treadmill training like a madman, at least it’s come in handy.

“Thanks and the flowers are gorgeous” I tell him.

“Glad you like them” he smiles, setting me back down. He sits with me on the outdoor sofa as Kez leads the kids in a dynamic cheer performance. It’s a bit of a mess but not on her accord. It’s the littler ones who are less coordinated. I cheer and whistle instead of clapping and the kids run over. I give them praise and watch as they swarm Terry too leaving him looking the most terrified I’ve ever seen him. Their lack of boundaries have them crowding his space sitting on him and questioning him.

“Kids food’s ready, come eat” Mama calls and they don’t fool around moving quickly to get up the stairs and back in the house.

“Is your place always like this?” He asks.

“No” I laugh. “I’m sorry”

“No, I’m happy to be here. Glad you called” he corrects. I guide him under the pergola where we can be free from prying eyes. “How’s the pain?”

“More or less gone, it’s mainly just stiffness and sore to the touch” I explain sitting.

“Where?” He asks.

“My wrist and hip mostly. My ribs where the suit saved me from the glass doesn’t hurt at all anymore” I explain. “How are your stitches?” I ask.

“I’m always fine,” he says, being dismissive. I send him a scowl and he smirks, shaking his head. “Physical pain means nothing to me when it’s my own” he says amending his tone to something more agreeable. I smile.

“They can’t see us from here” I inform him and he leans in kissing me. The kiss leaves me in better spirits and him with gloss on. I smile, wiping my gloss from his lips and he tenses at my touch. I withdraw.

“Sorry you have gloss on your lips” I explain.

“Go ahead” he says and I remove the evidence of our kiss.

“You don’t like being touched?” I ask and the deep breath he takes tells me it’s a thing. Memory tells me it’s true. Always handshakes, never hugs and always distance between him and other people.

“I’m fine with you touching me. Just took me off guard” he says and I don’t push.

“Okay” I nod feeling awkward now and he takes my hand.

“I didn’t care about appearances as a kid. My mom was always putting lotion on my face and Vaseline on my lips. It just ..”

“I understand.” I tell him, understanding how unwanted reveries happen. Then I smile at the thought of little Terry being manhandled by his Momma.

“What?” he asks.

“I don’t want to overstep.”

“I’ll tell you if it’s overstepping,” he says, trusting me but I know how complicated things can be with mothers.

“She’d probably giggle at you, turning heads the way you do now. Always moisturized and well groomed” I say and his smile tells me I didn’t overstep. He looks at me like it means a lot to him and I give him a hug taking in his cologne. The feel of his arms around me brings me so much peace and reassurance.

“Will you tell me if I’m overstepping?” He asks.

“Yeah?”

“Why isn’t your … hmm… biological mom here?” He asks and I look up at him. It is overstepping. It makes me self conscious and stressed and worthless.

“Our relationship is complicated, she can’t decide if she loves me unconditionally or resents me.” I share.

“So you’re not in contact?” he asks.

“No, my mom/grandmother put an end to the contact over a decade ago. I can’t say no to her. To me she’s the most gorgeous and magnetic person to have ever lived. She’s like the sun to me, even though she hasn’t been good to me. I hate that I love her so much but that’s biology. I’m always worse off when she’s around” I confess. Terry keeps an arm around me listening intently.

“I’m sorry” he says.

“Me too, but it’s life and I’m lucky to have the people I do have around me” I tell him.

“You are,” he nods.

“Do you have a big family?”

“No. My mom had the art community”

“She was an artist?” I ask, trying to conceive of it.

“No, a psychiatrist,” he says.

“Wow”

“But she loved art. Most of her clients were artists. She was writing a book on the connection between chemically imbalanced brains and art creation before she was killed” he says and I’m startled.

“She was killed?” I ask and he looks down. “Terry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” I swallow feeling terrible.

“She would’ve liked the collection in your office” he says, still keeping me close.

“Really?” I ask.

“It’s how I grew up. Black art all over the walls” he smiles looking down at me.

“Did you keep up the tradition?” I ask.

“No, my place is plain. Cassandra staged it for me. The art on the walls is abstract” he explains.

“So my place is probably an eye sore to you” I smile.

“No, but it does surprise me. You’re not so colourful at work” he says.

“Have you met the boss?” I tease.

“What about him?”

“Everything is black and white and should serve function. There’s not much room for colour” I tell him and he smiles. Eyes on my lips again before kissing me.

“Lorence are you eating?” I hear Sin call.

“In a bit!” I say breaking the kiss.

“Is Terrance staying for dinner?” She asks and I hear the kids being let back outside. I turn to Terry.

“I’ll stay”

“He’s staying!” I shout as he lowers for me to wipe his mouth off. I do appreciate the gesture. I reapply my gloss before the kids get under the pergola with their paper plates and impressionable prying eyes.

Day turns to night and I watch my mom fuss over Terry being adequately fed. He indulges her questions and conversion working the room with expertise I’ve never seen before. People clear out wishing me well and thanking him. I’m promised visits, chauffeuring and food deliveries as my family leaves. Terry’s one of the last to leave and when he's out the door I close it, taking a breath against it. The feels are too strong. I look ahead to find my mother and Sincere beaming. There's no hiding my blush as Sincere giggles and my mom shakes her head just as giddy.

“You’ve got it bad baby-girl, and he’s got it even worse than you” Mom says unloading the dishwasher. I know there’s a slim chance I’ll ever be able to live this down. Hopefully, with Richmond - I don't have to.

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authors note: whew, this one was a marathon to write but I hope you all enjoyed the new developments. Let me know your favorite parts in the comments mine was auntie thinking terry was a hired stripper 😂 oh and you know all the kisses.

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#terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond #terry richmond imagine #aaron pierre imagine #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron fics #aaron pierre #rebel ridge fanfiction #rebel ridge

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ranikyani · 2 months ago

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Adorkable: Aaron Pierre at the 2022 Tiff Awards

s/b: it's crazy how he went from regular weight to Mid Size Sedan, back down to his regular weight (see the other goofy laugh video where he let his praise kink pop out), then to Francis, and then back to this and recording Foe Terrance, before turning into Terry Richmond.

he’s so sticking cute!!!! 😍

#baby used to throw on a blazer and say fuck it #aaronpierre #terry richmond #tiff2022 #aaron pierre

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keyaho · 2 months ago

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ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕗𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

summary: Gianna has been best friends with Terry Richmond since they were in primary school. While she pursued higher education by chasing the title of Dr. he became a force on the field. When life smacks her friend in the face, Gianna does what she can to help.

word count: 1k

Fulton County Courthouse - 0845AM - Smith v Richmond

Judge Matthews had taken his seat as Gianna watched as Terry's shoulders straightened. She couldn't see his face, but each time she saw his side profile it was tight lipped and tense. His eyes were hard and she was glad she wasn't on the receiving end of them.

I don't like my time being wasted. He said, while shuffling papers in front of him. So I thank both pirates for making this straightforward. Sliding on his glasses, the judge lifted the one paper they were all here for. In the case of paternity of two year old Carter Smith, Mr. Terrance Richmond, you are…….NOT the father.

"NO!"

The judge pointed a hard look to the plaintiff, Keisha Smith, Terry's ex-girlfriend. A few months ago Terry had discovered Keisha had cheated on him and the little boy he had grown to love and adore was not his. Gianna saw Terry's shoulders slump forward and the defeat in his eyes wasn't missed by her. She knew her best friend.

"Ms. Smith,' the judge sighed, "the next time you come through the Fulton County court system it had better because the right person is on the other side of this court room. I implore you to think carefully in the future."

Judge Matthews then turned his head towards Terry.

"Mr. Richmond,' he states cooly, "I can see that you are attached to the child as expected given the circumstances and it is up to you what your next steps will be, but as I've told Ms. Smith, I implore you as well to think carefully in the future."

When the gavel slammed down, Gianna jumped. As soon as the judge left, Keisha shot up from her chair, nearly knocking it over, and tried to make her way over to Terry's side.

"That test is a lie!" She screamed, the life she had become used to was gone, for good now. "He's your son! I don't care what that test says!"

Terry worked his jaw and stepped around his lawyer. The last thing he wanted to do was face the camera and reporters out front so he had asked her to find another way out. The alley in the back was perfect. Gianna went ahead of him as he spoke with his parents.

Terry's Penthouse - Noon

Gianna stepped out of her room to a dark house. The curtains were drawn shut and the interior lights were off. After court they had gone for a quick breakfast. He ate and she tried to make sure he knew she was here when he was ready to talk. Instead, he drove them back to the apartment and retreated to his room. She caught herself up on a class assignment then took a nap, setting her alarm so she didn't sleep the day away.

The large living room was devoid of the warmth that used to be in it. The toys Terry had bought were gone. She didn't have to go check what used to be Carter's room to know Terry had cleaned it out already. Pulling her phone from her hoodie, she placed an order for takeout to be delivered so they had something to eat.

"Terry,' Gianna called as she walked towards his bedroom.

Before she could get to his door her phone buzzed multiple times. Most were from his family asking if he was okay because he wasn't picking up the phone. They knew she stayed with him and would go through her to get to him when needed. Gianna knew they just wanted to be there for him, but he wasn't talking. Keisha had called him several times trying to guilt him into caring for Carter. Eventually, she told him it needed to be through a lawyer if he decided to stay in touch with him. She always asked if he wanted that headache, because she wasn't going to make it easy.

Pushing open the door to his suite, Gianna found Terry awake in bed, watching previous season tapes. It didn't look like he had slept and the used tissue beside the bed let her know he had been crying.

"I ordered take out from Sharks. It should be here in about thirty minutes."

Instead of replying, he patted the bed. Maybe he was ready to open up. When she was settled against the pillows he turned down the volume of the TV.

"Would it be wrong if I walked away from Carter."

"I can't-'

"Just answer honestly. Would you still,' he says, frustration laced in his voice as he tried not to give into his emotions again. "Be there?"

"It would be hard,' she replied. "Keisha isn't going to make it easy, Terry. If you agree to stay in Carter's life, you're not going to be able to walk away."

"So you would walk away." He says.

Gianna sighed. "It's not about what I want in the end. "You had your relationship and son taken from you over the past six months. You're not in the right headspace to make that decision."

Her eyes flicked to the TV. The new season was about to start and as his best friend she often helped him out during. Pre-season was no joke and he thanked her each time the season went smooth. They were Superbowl bound this year and nothing was going to stop them this time. She was beginning her doctoral program at Clark and had a bit more leeway as she was diving into her thesis research. She wanted to create a profitable thesis and what better thing to study than football? Specifically the various teams and their cultures, however, she framed it through the lens of literature paralleling plays to stage plays.

"Right,' he sighs. "Leave it to you to be reasonable."

"One of us has to be."

Gianna was always the grounded one. The responsible one of the two. He came to her with everything and she felt more like a manager than a friend at times. This time to the season stressed him because it was all eyes on him again. This time there was an expectation he would lead the Falcons to a Superbowl win. That was pressure.

"Whatever you decided I'm here for you."

Terry looked at Gianna and took her hand. "Thanks, Gigi."

taglist:

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @virgomess @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @megamindsecretlair

@wabi-sabi1090 @iterum-incipi @liquorlaughslove @eilujion @taureanstargirl @mzv11@Disc0fair @prettyfilmz @simplyzeeka @heytaewrites vivaalenaa theogbadbitch

Insertcatchynamerighthere writingsbytee pocketsizedpanther

#terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black oc

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that-one-anxious-mango · 13 days ago

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Synopsis:

As the saying goes, “ If you love something, let it go. And if it comes back to you, it was always yours.”

But for Lorraine ‘Dallas’ Dubois, a young and successful second generation undertaker at her family’s renowned funeral home, she has never believed in this saying. Instead since her youth through toughened skin in her line of work and delicately pink painted cement walls built up around her heart, Dallas has instead developed a mantra of her own, “ If you love something, let it go. And pray it never comes back to hurt you again.”

A message she has applied to every corner of her life including that of her first crush and ex-confidant, Terrance Richmond.

After having to let Terry go due to the unfortunate circumstances in and out of their young control that soon lead to the demise and burial of their once close bond, Dallas subsequently allowed Terry to be let go from her mind and soul, only praying that one day her heart would too follow suit and relinquish him.

But when an unfortunate death in their small town brings Terry right back to the place where their friendship sprouted and many unsorted feelings have laid dormant and nestled in the grounds of their home.

Both Dallas and Terry, despite all the new & old obstacles and challenges they’ve both brought with them into adulthood, must still put the old saying to the test to see if they may truly be meant for each other…

4evemore and always…

Warnings: Rated M for Mature (18+). This fic will include mentions of: talks and allusions to death. nsfw content. swearing. childhood trauma. mentions of SA. Any heavy chapter will have an added * asterisk to indicate heavy topics as well as more thorough warnings!

Tag list: please leave a comment if you'd liked to be tagged in the official tag list for this tale! thank you!

C O M I N G S O O N!

#aaron pierre #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond #4evermore #terry richmond imagine

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wonderlustwrites · 1 month ago

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aaron pierre 〄

┊silent winter nights - terrance (foe)

┊stale - terry richmond (rebel ridge)

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ - the list + links will be updated as they are written -

⇒ bottom header made by @strangergraphics

#wonderlustwrites ☋#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #x black reader #black fanfiction #black fanfic writer

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mercury2venus · 2 months ago

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Moon River.

Angst because why not.

[ Terry Richmond Drabble, with my OC Venus.]

I stood across the room watching him maneuver through the kitchen. I could see the heartbreak forming in his eyes in every glance. His chest rising and falling with each rapid movement he’d make.

“ you can’t come and go as you please Venus. I’m tired of this charade. “ his voiced cut through the air like a sword.

“Just…stay. For a breath. Could we pretend you love me the way I love you. “

I sighed deeply. A few years ago I met Terry. We were young and I thought he was beautiful. Things got deep on his end quickly. But I couldn’t feel the same. Not when my world was so different from his.

I remember the look on his face when I told him this was as far as we would go.

5 years ago.

“I left her”. Terry said

I blinked slowly “ you left her…why”

“I can’t get you out of my mind Venus.”

I shot him a disapproving look. “ that’s…unfortunate Terrance. “

“It’s Terry “ he frowned.

“ I think it’s time we set some boundaries. Terry. “

He blinked at me, confused.

“ I have no intention on making this a thing. You wanted a relationship so you got with Denise who is actually very sweet. You can’t come back and attempt to convince me to do something I don’t want to do. “ I had to be stern. He needed to know.

Terry walked toward me slowly. “ why are you doing this V ? Why can’t we just try? You’re so quick to shut shit down. You can’t be judge and juror in my decisions.” He held my face in his large palms. “ say something please.”

I pulled away and stared him in the eye. “ why are you tormenting yourself with matters of the heart ? Maybe I should go. Coming here wasn’t a good idea. “ I grabbed my bag and started towards his front door. I felt Terry grab me by the hand. I didn’t turn around.

“ I’m doing too much. My fault that’s on me. Just don’t go Venus. “

So I stayed. Now here we are back on the same topic 5 years later.

Present time

“Am I that horrible to love Venus?” Terry mumbled.

“ No.”

“Then what is it? Just tell me. “

“You’re just.. not the one.”

“You’re lying”

“I’m a liar” I shrugged

I heard Terry sigh, “ stop…stop with the excuses ..stop fighting me Venus.” He ran his hands down his face. He looked exasperated. I felt guilt bubble at the bottom of my stomach, slowly creeping up searching for its freedom.

“ I can’t love you Terry..not the way you need. Not the way you want. I apologize truly, I let you buy a one way ticket to my heart, not telling you that the destination isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m so sorry. But you’re not meant to stretch my heart strings and surely not meant to stretch my legs past your shoulders at 4am. Not anymore. This has gone on long enough. I just hope we can remain friends. “

When I finally looked at him..his eyes were red. Mouth agape and his entire being cried hopeless. I walked up to him “ Goodbye Terry.” I whispered. I made my way to the door feeling numb. I did what needed to be done. I almost left till I heard him speak. In a faint whisper he said his last words to me “ Thank you..for telling me. Goodbye to you too Venus.”

That was the end, I walked out of the door yet, that was 30 minutes ago. I found myself sitting against the wall on the outside of his apartment. I replayed all of our memories. What was it about Terry that made me so rigid. Was it me ? Have I convinced myself I am not worthy of his love ? I stayed there for a bit, a familiar melody began to play from his home. Our favorite song.

My dream maker, my heart breaker

wherever you’re going

I’m going that way

Two drifters off to see the world

Such a crazy world you’ll see

We’re all chasing after our ends

Life’s just around the bend, my friend

Moon river and me.

I closed my eyes. Maybe next lifetime.

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x black!oc #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond x black reader #black writers

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violetmuses · 5 months ago

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TERRANCE JAMES RICHMOND! 👀

Come get me, please. 🥺

@episodes-ff @diaries-of-me @pocketsizedpanther @blackgurlnhermoods @sweettea-and-honeybutter @babybratzmaraj @persethegawd 🏷

#movies #rebel ridge #aaron pierre #terry Richmond #please #🥺🥺🥺#😩😩😩

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ruewritesoccasionally · 2 months ago

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Friction & Flames | Terry Richmond

pairing: terry richmond x black!reader

warnings: smut (18+), workplace rivalry, power dynamics, forced proximity, angst, rough sex, oral (f receiving), light hair pulling, explicit language, possessiveness, a lot of dialogue, a little slow burn and Terry being an absolute menace (but we love him).

summary: a classic enemies-to-lovers showdown: sharp words, sharper tension, and a deadline that forces them into close quarters. When tempers flare and restraint snaps, her and Terry finally settle their differences - in their own way...

word count: 6.4K

a/n: this came out much longer than intended 😭 this is a reupload, just reworked - the original didn't do as well as i would've liked but also it wasn't my best work. i'm much happier with it now though and i hope you guys are too 🫶🏾

The alarm buzzed, shrill and relentless. She groaned, blindly slapping at the snooze button before peeling herself out of bed. Coffee brewed while she moved through her morning routine—shower, dress, make-up—each step as precise and efficient as the last. The world felt easier when it followed structure, when things happened as they should.

Which was exactly why he drove her insane.

Terry Richmond had no regard for order, for rules, for method. He operated on instinct, on charm, on raw talent that somehow, infuriatingly, got him just as far as the meticulous planning she slaved over. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But it was the reality she faced every single day as his co-lead project manager.

By the time she arrived at the office, it was still quiet—just the way she liked it. These early mornings were her sanctuary, the only time of day when she could get ahead without distraction. But of course, peace never lasted long.

The telltale hum of easy conversation carried through the space, growing louder as he made his usual rounds. Schmoozing. Charming. Doing absolutely nothing useful. She didn’t even have to look up to know Terry had entered the room.

“Morning, everyone,” his voice rang out, smooth as silk.

Her fingers paused over the keyboard. Not yet. Not today. She kept her gaze locked on her screen, willing him away with sheer willpower.

No such luck.

“Well, well, Princess” he drawled, stopping beside her desk. “I see someone made it in without getting lost. Impressive.”

Her jaw tightened as she slowly swiveled in her chair, eyes locking onto his. That smirk. That self-satisfied, arrogant, infuriating smirk.

“For the last time, Terrance,” she said, enunciating his full name like a curse, “it’s not Sweetheart, it’s not Babygirl, and it’s definitely not Princess. Now turn around and—”

“Terrance,” he interrupted with a hand over his chest, feigning a wound to his heart. “Damn. And here I was, thinking we were past the formalities.”

Her glare could’ve set the whole office ablaze, but he only grinned wider, like he enjoyed the fire.

He always did.

The smug grin Terry shot her before he strolled to his desk was enough to make her want to hurl her coffee at him. Bastard. He knew exactly how to get under her skin, and he did it with a deliberate ease that made her blood boil. She inhaled deeply, gripping her pen tighter than necessary, willing herself to stay calm. The workday had barely begun, and he was already pressing every button she had.

It had been like this for years. Their competition wasn’t just petty office bickering—it was a game of survival. A slow-burning, high-stakes war waged between two people too damn good at what they did to ever back down.

The promotions? She’d landed hers first. The biggest client of last quarter? He’d swooped in and stolen it from right under her nose. Every time she thought she had the upper hand, Terry Richmond would find a way to level the playing field—or tilt it entirely in his favour.

And he loved it.

She could see it in the way he watched her now, that knowing glint in his stormy grey eyes as if he was waiting for her to snap.

Not today.

Before she could drown him out with work, Linda’s heels clicked against the floor, her presence snapping the room into silence. Linda was direct, no-nonsense, and not easily impressed—so when she stopped by their desks instead of addressing the entire team, something was up.

“This next campaign is the biggest account we’ve landed all year,” she started, flipping through the folder in her hands. “Which means I need our best people on it.”

She paused—just for a beat—before letting the inevitable bomb drop.

“I want both of you heading it.”

Her stomach twisted, and she barely managed to suppress a groan. Of course.

Terry leaned back in his chair, the picture of casual amusement. “Our best, huh? You sure you want to put her in the running, boss?”

Her jaw tightened. “I should be asking the same about you.”

Linda exhaled sharply. “Enough. I don’t care how you two feel about it—I care about results. And between the two of you, I expect nothing but success.”

Linda’s expression remained impassive as she looked between them. “I don’t care how you two feel about it. This job is crucial, and it needs to be done. Quickly.” Her voice was sharp, clipped, leaving no room for argument. “In fact, why don’t you use tonight to start planning? Somewhere neutral. Off-site. No distractions.”

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. The mere suggestion of being alone together outside of work sent an undercurrent of something charged through the air.

Terry’s smirk stretched wider, like a cat toying with a trapped bird. “Neutral, huh? Guess that rules out your place, Princess.”

Her jaw clenched at the nickname, her irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “Don’t call me that,” she hissed, voice razor-sharp.

Linda, either blissfully unaware or purposefully ignoring the crackling tension, made a quick note on her clipboard. “That’s settled, then. I expect a full report by tomorrow morning.” She barely spared them a glance before walking away, her heels clicking against the floor in sharp finality.

Terry, ever insufferable, watched her go before turning his gaze back to the woman standing in front of him. His smirk hadn’t faltered once.

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other tonight,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

She shot him a withering glare, but deep down, she already knew—this was going to be a very, very long night.

The words settled like a weight in the air. She hated that Linda was right. Neither of them would ever willingly bow out of something like this, not when winning meant getting one step ahead of the other.

And Terry knew it too.

He tipped his chin toward her, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “What do you say, sweetheart? Think you can keep up?”

She refused to look at him, refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she turned to Linda and gave a curt nod. “Fine. I assume we’re getting full creative control?”

Linda returned the nod. “Within reason.”

“We’ll see about that,” Terry murmured under his breath.

Linda gave them one last pointed glance before walking off, leaving the tension behind her thick enough to choke on.

She should have just let it go. She should have focused on the work, ignored him like he was nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.

But then she saw it—his damn smirk widening, like he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to bite back.

Slowly, she turned her head to him, keeping her expression neutral. “Try not to get in my way, Richmond.”

His gaze flickered with amusement, but he leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. “I wouldn’t dream of it, babygirl.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she bit back a retort. She was going to need every ounce of patience to survive this.

The hours ticked by, and as expected, Terry took his sweet time getting back to her about the details of their meeting. She wasn’t surprised. He loved making her wait, forcing her to reach out first. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not tonight.

She went about her evening, refusing to check her phone, knowing that the moment she did, he’d win. And she’d sooner staple her own hand than let him believe she was sitting around, waiting on him.

When her phone finally buzzed, she ignored it for a few minutes before opening the message with deliberate disinterest.

Terry: Meet me at my place. 10 PM. Try not to get too distracted tonight, Princess.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers tightening around the phone. She should have known. Of course he’d make this as inconvenient as possible. Not a café, not a bar, not even the office—his place. A blessing in disguise to be honest. There was no way she’d let him pollute the sanctuary of her own home with presence.

He was testing her.

She could decline. Tell him to meet somewhere neutral, somewhere that wouldn’t give him the upper hand. But then he’d smirk that insufferable smirk and say something smug about her being too scared to be alone with him.

And she refused to give him that, too.

So she texted back.

Her: Fine.

The response was short, devoid of anything he could twist into a game. Still, she knew he’d find a way.

Standing in front of his door, irritation coursed through her, tangled with something deeper—something she refused to name. She wasn’t nervous. That would imply he had some kind of power over her, and he didn’t. He didn’t.

The door swung open, and there he was: Terry Richmond, leaning lazily against the frame and she was immediately annoyed. He looked too good. Smug satisfaction lined his face, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing inked skin stretched over muscle.

"My, my, my," he drawled, letting his gaze sweep over her with deliberate slowness. "Don’t you look stunning. Don’t tell me you dressed up for me."

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Terry, you’re on my time now—use it wisely," she snapped, slicing through his charm before it could gain traction.

Terry raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering for a split second as he clocked her no-nonsense mood. He adjusted quickly, though, stepping aside and gesturing her in with a lazy wave. "Come on in, then. We wouldn’t want to waste your precious time, would we?"

“Didn’t think you’d show.” His voice was lazy, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

She tried pushing past him but he blocked her movements. “I’m here to work, not play into your little games.”

He finally moved, shutting the door behind her, a low chuckle escaping him. “Princess, everything we do is a game.”

She walked past him, jaw tightened, but she ignored him, scanning the apartment instead. It was neat, too neat. The kind of place that suggested he didn’t spend much time here, that it was more of a crash pad than a home. Still, it smelled like him—clean, woodsy, with a faint trace of cologne—and the familiarity of it made her stomach tighten.

Terry shut the door, watching her. Always watching. "Drink?"

"No."

He hummed, pouring himself a glass of whiskey anyway. "Suit yourself."

She moved to the dining table, pulling out her laptop. "Let’s just get this done."

Terry exhaled dramatically, taking the seat across from her. "So eager. You always this desperate to get away from me?"

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she met his gaze, bored. "Depends. You always this desperate to keep me around?"

His lips curled. "Oh, always, sweetheart."

She hated the way her pulse betrayed her. The way his voice dripped with a promise she refused to decipher.

As the night stretched on, she noticed his focus drifting—not from the project, but from her. His gaze lingered too long, tracing the line of her throat when she sipped her drink, flicking to her mouth when she spoke, dropping to her bare legs beneath the table.

She knew the exact moment he stopped caring about work.

“Tired?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Terry leaned back in his chair, stretching leisurely. “Bored.”

“Because you’re losing?”

His smirk deepened. “You think this is a competition?”

She mirrored his expression. “Isn’t it?”

The words hung heavy between them, thick with something unspoken. Something neither of them wanted to name.

Shaking it off, she focused on the task at hand. They settled into work, heads bent over the project, their focus sharp. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe this might actually be productive.

But Terry was Terry, and peace was never part of his repertoire.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know what they were supposed to be doing—he did. But slipping in his usual jabs was second nature, like breathing. Whether it was the clash of egos, his compulsive need to compete with her, or sheer stupidity, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

To her credit, she let it slide. For now. His behaviour, by his standards, was almost tolerable, and she kept her focus on the task at hand. So much so that she barely noticed the way his eyes lingered on her.

Terry wasn’t focused on the proposal anymore. His gaze drifted, taking in every detail: the shimmer of gloss on her lips as she spoke, the way her movements carried an effortless grace even in her irritation. He wasn’t oblivious to the effect she had on him.

She walked into every room with a quiet confidence that drew him in, her voice carrying an authority that demanded attention. And it drove him mad that she seemed entirely unaffected by him. Her refusal to acknowledge his flirtations turned into a game he couldn’t resist playing. He loved riling her up, watching her react. Every glare, every clapback—it all meant she cared, and that’s what he wanted.

He leaned back in his chair, letting her take the lead on the project, though his mind had long since wandered. His eyes lingered on the way she crossed her legs, the slight arch of her back as she leaned forward to emphasise her point. He imagined how it would feel to have her closer, to—

And then he couldn’t resist.

“So," he drawled, his voice low, carrying that signature teasing edge, "how many other guys would kill to be in my position right now?"

That was it.

Something inside her snapped. Her face flushed, anger blazing in her eyes as she shot to her feet. Fists clenched at her sides, she fixed him with a glare that could melt steel.

"You arrogant, son of a—"

But she didn’t get the chance to finish.

Terry was already grinning, wider than ever, his expression one of pure satisfaction. He basked in the chaos he’d created, every ounce of her fury a testament to his power to get under her skin.

He leaned back, utterly unbothered, his smirk taking on a wicked gleam. He’d pushed her to this point, and he loved it. Relished it. This was his game, and he was playing it to perfection.

The tension in the room shifted—thick, potent, and almost suffocating. He moved toward her with a predatory grace, every step deliberate, his presence commanding. Placing his hands firmly on the armrests of her chair, he caged her in, leaving no room for escape.

Trapped and surrounded by his heat, her senses were overwhelmed. But even as he asserted his dominance, one thought lingered in his mind: she would taste him later.

Leaning down, he lowered his voice to a murmur that sent shivers racing down her spine.

"You see how easy it is for me to get under your skin?" His breath ghosted against her neck, his lips barely brushing her ear in a tantalising tease.

"But between you and me," he continued, his tone thick with sinful intent, "I’d rather you be under me."

The hitch in her breath was almost imperceptible, but Terry caught it. Of course, he caught it. That was the thing about him—he noticed everything. The way her pulse flickered at her throat. The way her fingers clenched, then relaxed, then clenched again, like she was trying to fight off whatever was brewing inside her.

And the way she didn’t move away.

His smirk deepened, his hands still bracketing her chair, keeping her right where he wanted her.

“I can see you're thinking about it,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something richer, smoother, meant to sink under her skin. “We both know how this ends. Why fight it?”

She scoffed, though it came out weaker than she wanted. “You’re delusional.”

His lips twitched. There she was. “And yet,” he murmured, tilting his head, “you’re still standing here. Close enough to feel me.”

She swallowed hard.

Terry chuckled. Low, slow, like he had all the time in the world. He let one hand trail up the armrest of her chair, fingers grazing hers. Barely a touch. Just enough to make her breath hitch again.

Then, he leaned in. Closer.

She could smell the whiskey on his breath, the warmth of it mixing with something darker, something entirely him.

And she hated—hated—how badly she wanted more.

“You know what I think?” he murmured. “I think you like this. The arguing. The tension. The push and pull. I think it gets you off—”

She moved before she could second-guess herself. A sharp, frustrated sound left her throat as she grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down, her lips crashing against his.

Terry groaned, deep and guttural, as if he’d been waiting for this, aching for this. His hands found her waist, gripping tight, and then suddenly she wasn’t in the chair anymore—she was against it, her back pressed into the table as he stepped between her legs, pressing into her, all hard heat and impossible arrogance.

Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, holding him there, not that he had any plans to go anywhere. His mouth was urgent against hers—hot, demanding, a perfect mirror to the fire that had been simmering between them for months.

She bit down on his lower lip, just hard enough to make him grunt.

Good, she thought, satisfaction curling in her stomach. If she was going down in flames, he was burning with her.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark, wild, consuming.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that,” he murmured, his thumb dragging over her bottom lip.

She licked the tip of it, just to watch his jaw tighten.

“I think I have some idea,” she teased, voice breathless, electric.

Terry’s eyes darkened, amusement flickering into something sharper. Hungrier.

“Alright, Princess,” he murmured, voice dropping to something low, something dangerous. “You wanna play?”

The air shifted.

The power balance tilted.

And neither of them were backing down.

Terry let out a slow, dangerous chuckle. Then he kissed her again—deeper, harder, bruising in its intensity.

His hands gripped her waist with practiced ease, lifting her effortlessly to her feet as he closed the remaining distance between them. Their bodies collided, his heat searing against hers. His lips crashed into hers with an intensity that was anything but gentle—a clash of teeth and tongues, raw and unrestrained. She tasted like temptation, and for a fleeting moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

She met him with equal fervour, her fingers threading into his hair and tugging him closer, pulling a low growl from his throat. He took it as permission to push further, his lips leaving hers to trail down her jawline. His teeth grazed her skin, nipping lightly before soothing the spot with his tongue.

As they pulled apart, his smirk spread, slow and calculated, dripping with satisfaction. His eyes gleamed with the knowledge of what he’d just unleashed. The storm between them was no longer just a simmering rivalry—it was a blaze, out of control, and neither one of them knew how to stop it.

“You think you’ve got this figured out, don’t you?” His voice was rougher now, all edge and low heat. There was an unspoken challenge in the air. He was no longer just teasing—this was war, and the rules had changed.

Her heart raced, her pulse thundering in her ears, but she refused to let him see the effect he was having. Instead, she shot him a pointed look. “I’ve got more than you think.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and mocking. “Always so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” He pushed off the desk, the sudden movement bringing them closer, his towering presence stealing her breath away. His eyes never left hers, hungry, predatory.

They were circling each other now, neither willing to show weakness, both battling for dominance. The air around them felt too thick, too heavy, but neither of them could make the first move. The competition had always been fierce, but this? This was something different. Something primal.

Her gaze flickered to the clock on the wall, as if time could be her ally. “I’m just here to finish the job,” she said, trying to sound detached, but the words caught in her throat, betraying her. They both knew it was more than that.

Terry’s gaze softened, just for a moment. Then he was back to his usual cocky self, pressing closer. “It’s funny,” he murmured, voice quieter now, like he was letting her in on a secret. “You act like I’m the one distracting you.” His fingers brushed the edge of her desk, and the simple movement was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Her clenched her fists at her sides. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

She was playing right into his hands. Lowering himself further, his lips brushed along the line of her jaw, his breath hot and unrelenting as he whispered, "Nuh-uh. That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You’re in my house now." His voice dropped even lower, the words landing with weight. "And you play by my rules."

Fully closing the space now, his breath warm against her skin. “You always know how to keep things interesting, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his breath warm against her flushed skin.

It was a challenge. A dare. And it hit harder than any insult or word they’d thrown at each other before.

His proximity was intoxicating. She could feel his heat radiating off him, like a physical presence pressing against her own, testing her resolve. For a moment, she considered backing away, but something about the way he looked at her—so assured, so relentless—made it impossible to move.

His fingers grazed her wrist, just barely, the touch lingering enough to make her skin burn. She could feel her breath quicken, the air around them thick with unspoken words. The space between them was dangerously small now, and neither one of them was backing down.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she asked, voice a little more breathless than she'd intended.

Terry’s smile turned devilish, the playful glint in his eyes sharpening. “What would be the fun in that?” he said, then stepped back, breaking the spell with a sudden, disarming ease. He ran a hand through his hair, cocky as ever. “Let’s see who cracks first, then.”

Her pulse quickened at the challenge, the tension between them building with every word. Neither of them was prepared to lose. Not this time. And as the clock ticked on, the battle between them grew more intense, the stakes impossibly high.

His hands moved with purpose, one slipping to the small of her back while the other pressed against her hip, guiding her until her back met the solid surface of the nearest wall. The coolness against her skin was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him, pressing into her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. Every nerve in her body was alive, her senses alight with the overwhelming presence of him.

She wanted to snap back, to hurl something biting, to put him in his place with that razor-sharp tongue of hers—but nothing came. Her thoughts were too hazy, clouded by the way he towered over her, by the way his body felt against hers. His presence was magnetic, undeniable, and it was pulling her under like a riptide she had no hope of escaping.

Then his hand brushed against her arm—a barely-there touch, yet it sent a bolt of electricity straight to her core. A sharp breath left her lips. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. She hated him, truly, deeply. But she wanted him just as fiercely. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, to shove it down where it couldn't be touched, it clawed its way back to the surface.

Terry took another step closer, deliberate, unhurried, his confidence infuriatingly steady. His fingers trailed lower, sliding to the small of her back again, and this time, he pulled her in. Every inch of her was flush against him now, the heat between them scorching, the last remnants of distance obliterated.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice dripping with challenge. “You gonna keep pretending? Or are you ready to stop fighting this?”

The words settled heavy between them, the weight of them undeniable. The world outside blurred, irrelevant. All she could hear was the deafening pound of her own heartbeat, the ragged pull of her breath.

And then, like a dam breaking, every pent-up emotion, every unresolved moment between them came crashing down.

Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt before she could stop herself, a sharp tug pulling him into her space. She wasn’t following his lead anymore—this wasn’t about his challenge, his rules. She was setting the pace now. She was in control.

His smirk deepened, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment. But she didn’t give him the satisfaction of gloating. She surged forward, her lips crashing into his with a force that stole the breath from both of them.

Terry groaned against her mouth, the sound raw, almost desperate. Then his hands were on her again, moving with an urgency that sent a fresh wave of heat through her. He caught her wrists in one swift motion, lifting her arms above her head, pinning them effortlessly against the wall. His body followed suit, pressing her there, letting her feel the weight of him, the full brunt of his control.

For just a second, he held her like that—let her feel the shift, let her know exactly who had the upper hand now.

Then his lips crashed into hers again, rough, unrelenting.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was everything they had never said, everything they had pushed down, everything that had burned between them from the very first moment they met.

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in, trapping them in the storm they had created. Her pulse pounded against her ribs as his hands slid down, gripping her waist and pulling her tighter against him. His touch was firm, possessive, but there was something else beneath it—a quiet, maddening restraint, like even now, he was holding back.

She arched against him, breathless, defiant.

“Do you feel that?” he murmured, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers, his voice dark, taunting. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Her breath shuddered as she stared up at him, her mind a blur of want and frustration, her body betraying her with the way it leaned into his.

And the worst part?

She had been waiting for it too.

The arrogance in his tone should have pissed her off. She should have shoved him away, thrown a cutting remark to put him back in his place. But instead, his words sent a shiver down her spine, pooling heat low in her belly. Her heart pounded—loud, insistent—as if trying to warn her, but she knew he could hear it, feel it, just like she could feel the heat radiating off him, pressing into her.

She hated that he had this effect on her. Hated how effortlessly he stripped away her defences, unravelled her completely with nothing but a look, a touch, a single taunting word.

In a blink, she found herself against the wall, the hard surface biting into her back, his body caging hers in. She should have fought it, should have snapped something defiant—but she didn’t. The space between them dissolved, his lips hovering just inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was thick, roughened with something unreadable. It almost sounded like concern. But she knew better. This wasn’t concern. This was a test. A challenge. A game of control, of willpower, of just how far he could push her before she shattered.

Her lips parted, but hesitation caught in her throat. Because if she said no, she couldn’t take it back.

Terry’s fingers skimmed the side of her thigh, his touch maddeningly light, a whisper of contact that made her body jolt in anticipation. The bastard was waiting. Letting the silence stretch. Letting her squirm under the weight of her own restraint.

Her nails curled into his chest, tension coiling tight in her stomach, and she knew she was at the edge—dangling over it.

Then, barely audible, she whispered, “No.”

His smirk was slow, dangerous. “That’s my girl.”

Then his mouth crashed into hers.

There was nothing soft about it. No careful prelude, no tentative exploration—just pure, unchecked hunger. He kissed her like he wanted to brand her, own her, stake his claim right there against that cold, unforgiving wall. And she met him just as fiercely, dragging him in by the collar, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a battle of dominance neither was willing to concede.

His hands moved with intent, sliding beneath her shirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of her ribs before finding the swell of her breasts. He cupped them through the thin lace, his thumbs circling over her nipples with infuriating precision. A sharp gasp left her lips, her body betraying her, arching into his touch instead of away.

Terry hummed against her mouth, amusement flickering through the kiss. “So sensitive,” he murmured, dragging her shirt higher, exposing her inch by inch like he had all the time in the world. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

She wanted to deny it, wanted to bite out something sharp to wipe that smirk off his face, but then his teeth grazed her jaw, his lips dragging down her throat, and any words she might have had died in a sharp inhale.

His hands were ruthless now, dragging her skirt up, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her knickers. The moment he found her, slick and wanting, a curse left his lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. “Look at you.”

Her thighs tensed, heat surging through her, but before she could process the words, before she could react, he was gone.

The sudden loss of his touch made her shudder, her breath catching—but then he dropped to his knees.

Her stomach clenched.

Strong hands gripped her thighs, pried them apart, lifting one over his shoulder with unrelenting ease. He didn’t speak, didn’t offer any more smug remarks. He just stared up at her, dark eyes gleaming with wicked intent, and then—

His mouth was on her.

A choked gasp tore from her lips, her head knocking back against the wall. His tongue was relentless, dragging over her with obscene precision, tasting her like he’d been starving for it. Her fingers twisted into his hair, her grip tight enough to hurt, but he only groaned, the vibrations sending another wave of heat crashing through her.

She refused to give in so easily. She refused to let him win.

But then he sucked—slow and devastatingly deep—and her entire body jerked, a whimper slipping free before she could stop it.

Terry chuckled against her, the sound smug, knowing. His grip on her thigh tightened, a silent warning, and then his fingers joined the fray—two slipping inside her, filling her with an unrelenting precision that had her shuddering against the wall.

Her resolve shattered.

“Terry—”

He grinned, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that had her thighs shaking. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against her, voice thick with satisfaction. “Let me hear you.”

She had no choice. He tore the sounds from her, made her body betray her again and again, driving her higher, dragging her over the edge with devastating ease. And when it finally hit, when pleasure crashed through her like a violent storm, her body seized, her breath strangled, her fingers yanking at his hair as she cried out his name.

Terry didn’t stop. He worked her through every wave, every tremor, didn’t let go until she was fully spent, trembling, utterly undone.

Then, finally, he pulled back, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured, his voice smug, satisfied. Then he rose, towering over her once again, his gaze locking onto hers as he wiped the last traces of her from his lips.

And God help her, she wanted more.

Neither of them had the patience—or the inclination—to take this upstairs. The moment stretched, charged, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. Every second they waited only made it worse.

Terry’s hands were already on her, firm and insistent, guiding her towards the couch like he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between them.

“Right here,” he growled, voice low and commanding. “I’m done waiting.”

She didn’t protest. Couldn’t. Her breath hitched as he turned her around, rough hands gripping her hips with purpose, bending her over the plush cushions. The anticipation was maddening, her skin buzzing under the ghost of his touch as his fingers trailed down her back, slow, deliberate—like he was savouring the moment, relishing her submission.

“Stay just like that,” he murmured, his voice dark silk, but his hands were anything but gentle. The rush of air against her thighs sent a shudder through her as he pushed her skirt up, his fingers dragging over the lace of her underwear before slipping them down in one smooth motion.

A sharp inhale cut through the silence. He wasn’t even touching her, but she felt it—his gaze, the weight of it scorching her skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You’re perfect.”

Her nails curled into the fabric beneath her, fighting for something to ground her, but then Terry was pressing against her, all heat and hunger, the hard evidence of his arousal making her breath falter.

“Say it.” His voice was thick, strained, heavy with restraint he was barely holding onto. “Tell me you want this.”

She clenched her jaw, heart pounding. He wouldn’t move until she said it. Wouldn’t give her what she was aching for.

Her resolve cracked, her need eclipsing her pride. “I want this,” she whispered, her voice barely more than breath. Then, stronger—daring. “I want you.”

That was all it took.

His grip tightened—one hand pressing into the small of her back, the other bracing her hip—before he thrust into her in one fluid movement.

A broken gasp tore from her lips, her body arching as he filled her completely, stretching her, owning her. There was no hesitation, no restraint. He took her with raw, unrelenting force, his movements deep and demanding, fuelled by the same tension that had kept them at odds for so long.

His fingers dug into her skin, holding her still, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. “So fucking good,” he groaned, voice wrecked, like he was barely holding himself together. “Better than I ever let myself imagine.”

She barely registered the words. Her mind was slipping, drowning in the rhythm of him, the way he moved, the way he took. Every deep stroke unravelled her, pulling her further under, until all she could do was surrender to it—to him.

Terry leaned in, his chest flush against her back, his breath hot against her ear as his hand slid into her braids, tugging just enough to tilt her head back. “Don’t hold back, baby.” His voice was a rough whisper, wicked and coaxing. “I want to hear you.”

And she did.

Her moans spilled into the room, raw and unrestrained, each sound sending a fresh surge of heat through him. He rewarded her for it, driving into her with punishing precision, wringing every reaction from her until she was teetering on the edge, trembling, gasping—

Then she shattered.

A sharp cry broke from her lips as pleasure tore through her, leaving her breathless, undone. She felt him falter, his pace growing erratic, his grip tightening—then, with a deep, guttural groan, he followed her over the edge, his release spilling into her as he collapsed against her, spent.

Silence settled over them, save for their ragged breaths.

Terry’s hands, once rough and claiming, softened on her hips, tracing slow, lazy circles against her skin. He eased out of her, lingering for just a moment longer before stepping back, watching as she pulled herself together.

Then, with all the composure she could muster, YN wiped her mouth and turned to face him, lips curling into something wicked. “Well,” she said, smoothing her skirt down, “I suppose we can’t call it a productive meeting until we actually finish that proposal, huh?”

Terry chuckled, raking a hand through his messy hair, looking every bit as wrecked as she felt. “Oh, don’t worry,” he drawled, flashing that signature, lazy grin. “We’ll get it done. I work best under pressure… just like tonight.”

She arched a brow, crossing her arms. “Funny,” she shot back, “you didn’t seem too worried about the deadline when you were too busy getting under my skin.”

His grin widened, smug, infuriatingly charming. “Well, now that I’ve got you warmed up, I’m sure the rest of the work will be a breeze.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Let’s just make sure we finish before Linda decides to make one of her famous surprise appearances.”

Terry laughed, shaking his head as he reached for his laptop. “Agreed. But next time—neutral ground, alright?”

“Next time?” she echoed, tilting her head. “You’re really pushing your luck, Terry.”

He leaned back, flashing her a wink. “Don’t worry, babygirl, I’m not done with you yet.”

And as they turned their attention back to the proposal, the tension between them still hummed in the air, thick and unresolved. They both knew this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

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comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond #terry richmond smut #ruewrites #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond x black reader #aaron pierre #terry richmond fanfiction #aaron pierre x black!reader

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artsninspo · 1 month ago

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008 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 007

♠ summary: Monte Carlo continues to be memorable as our cast of characters enjoy a series of firsts. This one's a whirlwind 🌪️.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~3.8K

⌖ - Monte Carlo, Monaco

We’re paid to perpetuate the illusion of safety, maintain the natural order of things and quell any trouble before it starts. We’re paid to make people feel at ease and not to disturb the flow of drinks, food and conversation. It’s why I’m sitting on the balcony enjoying a smoothie with a face full of makeup and curls setting in my hair. It’s why my nails are perfectly manicured in something boring and ‘classy’ and why my dress hangs in my room behind me. We’re supposed to blend in. I scroll through communications with my team and see everything is on track to go smoothe. Just as I feel at ease there’s a knock at my door. I head inside and unlock the deadbolt to find Cassandra already fully dressed and looking like she belongs on somebody’s red carpet.

“You look gorgeous” she beams stepping in.

“Thanks, so do you”

“I was just stopping by to help you into your suit.” she says.

“I got it on already, thanks” I respond.

“Let me check” Cassandra insists and I take off my robe. She does and finds I’ve put it on perfectly.

“I’ll take help getting in the dress though” I tell her, taking it down from its garment bag.

“I got you” she smiles, finding the zipper and helping me get it over my head without any makeup smudges or ruining my pin curls. I’m still not sure whether to be mortified or impressed by how realistic the suit looks. “Need help taking down your hair?” she asks.

“Yes please” I tell her, sitting down in the room's vanity and plucking out the pins.

“Are you excited?”

“Kind’ve and then I kind of just want it to be over” I laugh making her do the same.

“I came by last night - guess you were out cold and early” she says once all the curls are out. “Flip your hair. Do you have combs and a brush?” she asks before I can tell her about last night.

“Yeah, on the ottoman over there” I point, flipping my curls so they fall. I hear a gasp and when I look over I find Cassandra holding the caricature art. Her expression is priceless mirroring mine from last night when the artist handed me the shady masterpiece.

“Did you draw this?” she asks.

“No” I scoff. “After dinner Richmond came to check on me, I guess … I was wound up and he offered to help. We ended up walking my route, then spent some time on the beach. I wanted to get drawn and he didn't play nice, so the artist got her pound of flesh” I smile.

“You and Terry walked a nearly two hour route together and you’re both still breathing.” She looks shocked.

“Honestly, that’s the least shocking part of the night” I tell her.

“I've got to hear this” she sits down beside me with wide eyes and I smile.

“He was actually kind of … nice. Well … nice for Terrance Richmond’s standard. I know you're step siblings” I disclose and her eyes widen even more.

“He told you?!” she gasps.

“Yeah, he said he thought you told me already” I confess.

“He made me swear not to tell anyone unless I bring it to him first” she snaps and I shrug.

“What else did he tell you?” she probes.

“His mom passed, I didn't push for details though. I also learned we have a lot of travel experiences that I can redeem. And that you’re partly to blame for our first meeting going to shit” i add.

“Me?” she gasps, still not recovered from the initial shock of the information she is trying to process.

“Yes, he thought Lorence Cole was a man. In walked me - allegedly his ‘type’ whatever that means” I finish and now her jaw is on the floor.

“He told you that?” she squeaks, utterly shocked.

“Did you drug him or something - what the hell was in dinner?!” she exclaims standing and pacing. “And he told you about his mother?!” she asks, looking back at me.

“I didn’t drug him, I didnt even seek him out. I tried leaving, you know our history. Typically we’re fireworks and not the good kind” I remind Cassandra.

“You don't get it Lorence, we lived together for years after our parents married and we never had more than a two minute conversation. You guys are a natural disaster and then you spend a few hours together and he tells you his most personal details?” she exclaims. I swallow, allowing her words to digest.

“Years?” I ask and she nods. “And cliffnotes are his most personal details?” I continue.

“Lorence, he’s a military man through and through. Anything that can be exploited is dangerous and personal” Cassandra says noting the different set of rules Richmond has been playing by.

“That’s the cliffnotes, he knows EVERYTHING personal about everyone” I correct.

“Yes but it's because he’s OCD and not normal.” she says standing behind me. I sit in silence soaking it all in as she arranges my hair nicely.

“So did all his girlfriends look like me?” I ask and she smiles.

“No, Terry doesn't have time for girlfriends. Our parents have a social calendar and Terry’s had a few women over the years not at the same time but a few total. He brings them around until they figure out his work is his wife.” Cassandra says candidly. I can picture it. It aligns perfectly with everything I know about the man. It’s practical and utilitarian.

“So how’d you know I was his type and why’d you want to rattle him?’ I ask, recalling Richmonds words.

“It’s kind of personal to him and a long story he’d probably have an aneurysm if I told you. So I won’t but - with how much he’s opened up … I’m sure you won't have to wait long at all” she says.

“Last call!” I hear from outside and grab my purse and my tablet ready to go. I slip on my loafers at the door and head out with Cassandra. I multitask during the ride to our VIP box. All has gone well thus far and our client is en route with an ETA that aligns with ours.

“Cole, you look incredible” Emerson says likely with the purpose of getting a rise out of Cassandra.

“Thank you Emerson” I say, sparing him a smile.

“I didn't see you around last night. The client is having a boat party tonight. Will you be in attendance?” he asks.

“Let’s see how the day goes” I respond, turning my attention back to my work.

“Well, I’m here if you need anything,” he smiles.

“Thank you” I respond and he sits forward. I look to Cassandra who rolls her eyes acutely aware of what her scorned former lover is trying to do. I don’t have time to dwell as the client makes it out of the car and to the security team. Finally able to breathe I mark voyage one as complete and close the tablet putting it into my purse.

“Broke men with good dick always think they’re special when there’s a million more where they come from” Cassandra says just loud enough for Emerson to hear. He tenses and the reaction makes me feel bad for the fool. The point on that backhanded compliment is sharp enough to cut diamond. I’m not sure when’s the last time the men here have been deemed broke or run of the mill. The very nature of them is exceptional. But I guess when you’ve been around exceptional for most of your life like Cassandra the bar is different. Our arrival is smooth as we find our VIP box. I fasten my earpiece in case anyone needs me from my team and I’m greeted by a few familiar faces among the many unfamiliar. Cassandra takes my hand leading me onto a balcony with seating that’s practically empty. It overlooks the races route which no one in box seems interested in.

“So is Terry your type?” she asks.

“You know he’s handsome and impressive but I’m not really into the whole asshole persona. I don't like when men are short with me or temperamental” I confess.

“Well he’s not used to that.” she smirks. By the look of amusement in her eyes they’re light years away from the silent distance they once shared.

“Honestly my biggest fear is what's going on between you and Emerson” I whisper and she fans me off.

“Don’t worry about me and Emerson. This is just foreplay, he’ll perform better if I ever give him another chance.” she whispers, making me laugh.

“Cassandra, nice to see you.” The Boss’ deep voice says, cutting through the noise.

“Nice to see you too Terry, we have so much to catch up on” she says standing with a smile. He gives her a glare as they embrace.

“Terry Richmond” he says introducing himself to me with an outreached hand. For a second it’s like we’re the only two here living in a world with our agreement coming to pass. Clean slate. I smile to myself taking his hand.

“Lorence Cole” I introduce.

“Pleasure,” he says, shocking me.

“Terry, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter Ana” a mother calls from inside the box.

“Ugh” Cassandra remarks.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, letting my hand go. “You ladies look stunning by the way” he says before turning away.

“Oh this is going to be good!” Cassandra comments reveling in the possibilities

The race's opening ceremonies kick off and it really is an experience. I find myself invested in the outcome. The food and drinks keep flowing and the client stays put in our box ensuring I don't need to be at attention every minute. Jameson enters and I see his cover really is deep when people greet him with respect. Having an established public relationship with both Cassandra and I he joins us with a smile injecting some fun into the atmosphere. When Joel’s around the male attention declines which is something I appreciate. I notice that Richmond never gets a moment to himself. He goes from person to person, his serious stare etched permanently into his serious expression as he listens to their questions or concerns. With the exception of the women trying to pawn her daughter off on him everyone shows him the utmost respect. It only solidifies that’s the treatment he’s used to. By the time the race is over Cassandra and I have been invited to more afterparties then there are hours left in the day. The client is past tipsy and I feel for the security team as we file out of the suite and to the transportation port. The client has commandeered a gaggle of women requiring two sprinters instead of one. It’s something we planned for and I watch as the security team pats them down before they can head in the car. I get traffic reports in my earpiece and see we’re all clear. I miss being able to have eyes on everything.

“Where are you two headed?” Richmond asks, emerging beside Cassandra.

“Back to our rental, then who knows where” Cassandra shrugs and Richmond looks at me.

“Text me where you’re gonna be” he says looking back at Cassandra who grins.

“Terry RIchmond are you…”

“Don't start” he says, being short with her and she smiles.

“Whatever, only cause we’re in public.” Cassandra conceded

“Text me Cassandra, the moneys arrived and so has the riff raff” He tells her.

“Okay I’ll text you, where are you going?” she asks, taking out her phone.

“I have an intelligence meeting,” he says.

She raises a brow. “Off the record?”

“Yeah” he nods. When our car comes Richmond sends it away calling in a driver he knows and trusts before letting us get in. Control freaks is an understatement for what he is. Still I find myself a little unnerved by the lack of attention. Today’s been a far departure from last night. Especially from a man that has made a declaration like the one he has. I shake the thoughts from my head.

“He’s all wound up, somethings wrong,” Cassandra says, interrupting my thoughts. Carefree Cassandra is gone and she starts on her tablet swiping through a variety of screens trying to find what's out of place. She hasn't found whatever it is she’s looking for when we make it back.

“With the clients?” I ask.

“No, he’d have sent the client back home if they were in danger. I’d be aware of that briefing” she says heading into her room. “Need anything?” I ask.

“I know what party we’re going to change into something a little sultry” she smiles. “I need about an hour and a half,” she says.

“Ok” I agree, heading to my own room. When I try to call Joel there’s no answer but thankfully the client has reached their destination safely. I make the necessary transitions to go from a daytime to nighttime look. After the experience I had in VIP I don't know if I have the patience to stomach the male attention purposely dressing ‘sultry’ will stir up; so I go for simple. I keep my suit on and find a dress I hope Cassandra likes. As long as it conceals the zipper for my suit and I can move comfortably in it it passes the check for me. Once I’m ready I meet Cassandra who’s all done up in a dress that definitely screams sexy.

“You look great!” I tell her.

“Adam only lets peacocks in his section - we’ll have to split up unless you show some more skin” she says. “You look like someone’s trophy wife, you need to look like you're auditioning to be someone's trophy wife” she explains.

“I can stay back” I offer.

“No, I’ll see my contact, get some info and then we can go have some fun. We look too good to stay in” Cassandra says, taking my hand.

“Alright” I agree.

The streets are painted with people making the car ride longer than it needs to be. The celebrations have spilled out into the streets when all the viewing venues have cleared out. It’s the gridlock I planned for and the client avoided. I make a note to celebrate the team's win when I get back. Cassandra continues her search on the phone and I return a few texts from friends and family in response to my Grand Prix social media stories. Sin asks for an update on the Boss and I have none to give her. He was warmer than he’s ever been but distant and all business. I guess interest for him is a little different than it is for most men. It’s not what I’m used to. Is RIchmond my type? No. I’ve always run from men with energy as dominant as his. I’ve always been more drawn to the free spirits that are more focused on the present than the future. The boss's level of ‘masculinity’ is something that's always made me feel uncomfortable. My childhood is unmistakably why. Richmond’s anger, his tirades, dissatisfied expressions and marginal margin for error seems like something that would be cataclysmic and anything but fun in any kind of romantic situation.

The car stops throwing me from my doubts. I follow Cassandra out of the vehicle and into the venue. House music erupts from the speakers casting an ambiance I’m not too familiar with. The luxurious club is far from the typical city party venue. The ceilings have crown mouldings as do the sections. Intricate tiles cast a twinkling mosaic for those who look up.

“All I need is thirty minutes, keep your phone close for info and be diligent about your surroundings” Cassandra warns walking off. I nod, taking my thoughts away from Mr. RIchmond and tune them into my surroundings. Exits, Security, Major players. It takes me five minutes to perform my assessment of the place. Cassandra and I are on the highest level.

“Would you like to join my section, beautiful?” A voice says. I dont turn until the expensive cologne gets my attention. A man dresses so casually it means he’s loaded and sits beside me wearing glasses and a four hundred thousand dollar watch.

“I’m good here thanks” I smile and he does too.

“Whatever she wants” he tells the bartender who stands ready and willing.

“I’m not thirsty, but thank you” I tell him and he smiles at me for a moment before it fades. I follow his line of sight to a man I definitely recognize. He looks at Cassandra making a hand gesture and I watch her stand with the man she came to see before heading into a room. He comes over to me, glaring at the ma at my side.

“We need to leave,” he says sternly.

All our progress has evaporated in an instant. “Why?”

“Not now, please trust me” his tone is tense and his body language rigid.

“Just us?” I ask and his nostrils flare.

“Yes immediately” he says and I turn away looking around to see the venue full.

“Rich-”

“We have to leave now!” he snaps, taking my arm.

“If innocent people can get hurt we have a duty to do something” I snap and he sighs pulling the fire alarm as we leave. I go to run with him when I hear rounds of gunfire go off.

“Are you wearing your suit?” he asks.

“Yes” he nods but before we can start on an alternate route more guns go off. There’s screaming and frenzy, the pops start from every angle. I bend taking my pumps off as fast as I can. There’s no talking over the chaos so I take Richmonds hand and push through onto the frenzied crowds the balcony. My heart races as I employ my training and scale from the upper level down to one below. Richmond isn't far behind me. When he gets down he takes a firearm from his waist handing it to me.

“There's only one round” he says, taking the point without any. There’s no time for questions. I follow his lead until I see a man with blood pooling from his leg. I go to help him but he pulls an automatic weapon. Before I can move I'm thrown to the ground. I hit the concrete hard before being dragged into a room. Richmond works quickly to lock us into a supplies closet. A firefight ensues and he uses his body on the other side of the door like a human shield. There are screams and wailing and so many pullets it sounds like shelling. The screaming is piercing and when it does stops so does the gunfire. My heart races violently, Richmond’s heart is too against my back. There’s talking in a language my brain can't make out. I hear footsteps, a door opens and screams are silenced by more gunfire.

“I got you” Richmond whispers, taking the gun from me. We stand together and he backs me into the corner standing against me again as he faces the door. I feel his back muscles contract as he aims the gun ahead. The footsteps get closer and the door is tried. When there is no luck opening it a round of bullets sing cutting through the door with no resistance.

“All clear” a man's voice says but I dont move a muscle. There’s no movement from outside the door for over a minute. Terry nor I move a muscle but then I hear what sounds like a lock being shot off. Then I hear the sound of someone losing their life. I know Terry has discharged his weapon from the kickback. He moves quickly passing me back the smoking gun and ridding our would be killer of his automatic weapon. I take point and as we're out of the closet I see Joel in full gear. Relief washes over him and he takes off his helmet putting it on me.

“Terry, we have Cassandra - we’ve got to go.” he says, turning on his eyewear. They form a protective stance used for asset recovery all the way into our waiting car.

“Are you hit?” Joel asks as the door closes and it's that exact moment I start to hyperventilate into hysterics. I watch panic take Joel as he lifts my dress up looking for blood.

“She’s wearing her suit” I hear Terry say and Joel relaxes, slumping into relief. His chest rises and falls as violently and fear is in his eyes for the first time.

“Breathe” Joel says but I can’t. “It’s okay kid” Joel says, holding me tight against him and I find the breaths come in sooner. I don't want to cry but I can't help it.

“What the fuck!” I hear Richmond scream.

“Boss we’re all accounted for and our clients are secure” a voice says.

“How does this happen?” He bellows.

“The attack was coordinated, we had ten minutes' notice but only got to it with six to go” the voice I recognize as Connor says.

“Be fucking through” Richmond snaps.

“I can't be sure but if the prelims are correct it was a strike for the Troy upset of last year” Connors says and I find myself relaxing a touch. I look at Terry recalling his words from last night. They seem prophetic now as I recall the “Troy upset” of last year. Tale as old as time, an unsatisfied trophy wife looks for love elsewhere. Then the neglectful husband’s ego can't take it and he lashes out.

“End all contracts.” The boss says and I can't take my eyes off of him.

“Check him” I say but my voice sounds hoarse and unlike myself. Joel lets me go.

“I’m fine,” Terry says.

“Are you in your suit?’ Joel asks.

“No” Terry responds, making my blood go cold. I look at him, he’d been shielding me from bullets and danger when he hadn't been wearing any protection?

“Check him” I repeat and the sound of my voice makes both men wince.

“I’m fine,” Richmond tells Joel.

Trembling, I push forward from Joel’s arms. I check for wounds like we’re supposed to, by pressing down and looking for blood. The moss watches me run my hands over his arms, he indulges me pressing on his chest and then lower onto his abdomen where my hands become stained red with sticky blood. Frantic, I rip away the fabric of his shirt to find shards of glass in his skin. I move back, eyes locked on him as the first responder’s begin caring for him. “I got you” his words echo in my consciousness. A forever promise. There is no suit, no kevlar, no defence against harm, just flesh, bone and the unrelenting resolve of Terrance Richmond.

“She’s gonna go into shock” he shouts sounding terrified and just like that I know he loves me.

I got you

authors note: Hope you enjoyed this update, things are heating up from here - full steam ahead. To those of you who watched Mufasa iykyk that scene had me like Sarabi, I get it sis. Had to inject it here lol

terrance's interlude ⇛

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