I felt really clever.

I had outsmarted the most nosey, clingy fuck face in the world: Matthew.

How, might you ask? Well, I had to make up an excuse.

Of couse it's not that easy with the little annoying man.

Then I had to whine and get naggy.

Then the whining back.

And the sigh.

Had to add a bit of a sexual twinge in my voice, just so he'd get a bit of a hint as to what was going to go down. The fucker still managed to complain.

And he kept it. I called the house periodically to make sure he'd answer. I was glad I didn't have caller I.D. because he had somehow memorized the hospital number and since I was calling from Clarissa's phone, he'd be on my ass with a million and one questions.

I had just hung up the phone with him and after all his whining, I was still excited. The smile wouldn't leave my face and I decided I didn't mind it there. I didn't know if it was from the thought of being almost done or if all this chocolate was the reason why I so awake and alive, but I was grateful. It was almost nine and the kitchen was a mess. Clarissa was flipping through her Oprah magazine, unfazed by my hurricane-like affect on her poor kitchen.

"Girl, are you done yet?" she finally spoke as I smoothed over the last few layers of homemade fudge icing over the three layer cake I just created. I nodded and sucked the extra chocolate off my finger tips.

"Hells yes," I sighed in relief. "It's so good I don't even want to give it to the boy."

"Don't you mean your man?" she teased and a part of me regreted telling her that Matt and I were kind of, sort of dating. She was too excited about the news, but swore she wouldn't say a word.

"Shut up, woman," I said, picking up the glass plate the masterpiece was sitting on and very carefully moving over to the counter, the only clean counter, Clarissa was leaning on. She looked down at the chocolate goodness and back at me with an approving nod.

"It looks delicious," she commented. "You sure I can't come over?" I laughed lightly.

"Not tonight," I said, raising a brow in a suggestive manner. She howled with laughter.

"So I'm guessing this cake isn't the only chocolate Matt's eating..." I laughed this time as she joined me. I playfully shoved her and shook my head.

"You are bad," I smiled, "But you're not lying."

"Oh!" she squealed with delight, "I'm so happy for you." I turned to the mess of a kitchen and thought about where to start.

"Yeah... Me too." I was happy for me because I was genuinely happy. There wasn't a sad bone in my body in that moment and I was feeling strange about it. It's been a long time since I felt like this. Happiness used to be so rare, and as corny as it sounds, Matthew's presence has made it a day to day thing. Especially since that glorious night four days ago... Man, oh, man. Words could not describe my pleasure. It was almost painful because it was so damn good. The boy didn't remember his name, but he sure remembered his stroke. When Clarissa lightly asked if he was good in bed since she had never been with a white guy, she laughed at my speechless reaction. I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out but a nostaglic sigh. It was enough for her to understand where I was going with my answer and she mumbled something along the lines of needing to find a white man on the side.

Clarissa knew full well that would never happen. Her husband would kill a man for looking at her too long and too lingering. They've been married for 15 years. Since she was 19 and he was 21. I thought she was as crazy as her parents believed, but she told me she has never met a better man. Besides, she was carrying his child and it made it easier for the family to believe they were already married before the child was conceived. And it's been 15 long years, not to mention the years they knew each other in grade school and high school. They were pretty well matched up since day one. I was envious. Clarissa was ten years my senior, but she was younger than me in her stress-free way of life and her openess and faith. I wish I could be her sometimes and live and love the way she does. If I were her and somebody asked me to use my kitchen and tools to make a cake for a boy they never even tried to properly introduce them to, my answer would be a straight up no. Yet, she was so estatic about the idea that she helped me make the icing and didn't complain once.

"This boy must really be something," Clarissa said as she began to soap up the pile of dishes in the sink. I was gathering up egg shells and other garbage; running around the kitchen like a chicken with its head cut off.

"Who?" I asked, distracted by all the mess.

"Matthew, fool," she said smartly, reminding me of my own smart ass mouth. I rolled my eyes the way Matthew always did when I called him a fool.

"I guess," I shrugged, "He's really sweet."

"Sugar is sweet," Clarissa told me, "That boy is something." The emphasis on her words bothered me for a moment, but I continued to gather trash without a word to her. I figured the conversation was over if neither of us spoke. I was doing pretty good for myself, all the trash removed and tied away outside, and now scrubbing down the counter and table tops, before she said something again. "How serious are you two?"

I paused my movements as I looked back at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... Is he your boyfriend?" I rolled my eyes and turned back to my cleaning.

"I thought you established he was 'my man'," I mocked and she sprinkled water from her fingertips at me playfully as I neared her. I wiped the water from my cheek with the back of my hand and cracked a smile.

"Don't get smart, child," she scolded like my mother would, "I want you to tell me if I'm right." I shrugged.

"Clare, I really don't know," I told her honestly, "We didn't exactly having the normal three dates thing. It all kinda just... happened." She gave me a thoughtful nod before turning back to the dishes.

"Well, do you love him?" I dropped my cleaning rag and turned my head so fast I almost go whip lash."

"What?" I asked like she lost her rabbit ass mind.

"I said do you love him." She repeated it firmly, standing by her perposterous inquiry. I shook my head vigorously.

"Absolutely not," I denied, feeling my walls building up around me. "I barely know this guy."

"He lives with you," she argued.

"So what?" I shot back. "Clarissa, it's been a month."

"Over a month actually. Probably two, right?"

"Don't give me that," I shook my head. "You're ridiculous."

"Love has no time frame, honey," Clarissa cooed and I picked up my rag and kept on scrubbing. "Look, you're a smart woman, Sash. I know you're not gonna fall in love with any old guy."

"Thank you," I said, never turning around, "I'm glad you have at least an inkling about who I am."

"Yes, I do," she assured, "But I also know that you're not gonna bake a cake for a man you don't love." I rolled my eyes to the heavens.

"Clarissa, it's a cake and it's his birthday, for goodness sake. Isn't it tradition to give someone a cake on their got damn birthday?"

"You could've just bought him one," she said, "Would've been a lot of easier and impersonal."

"I care about Matthew, okay? If something happened to him, I'd be really upset, but I am not in love with him. That's crazy talk and you know it." I angrily scrubbed every counter I could get my hands on, even what I already did. "I'm good enough friends with him to not give him something that impersonal."

"You slaved over that cake all evening, ya know," she told me, "You cooked up this scheme and went completely out of your way just to surprise him and make him happy. And I'm pretty sure that little something-something you've got in that Victoria's Secret bag you got sitting on my living room coffee table wasn't cheap."

The lacy babydoll nightie was forty of my hard earned dollars, but I knew that Matthew would make it worth every penny. That was lust; not love.

"I'm regretting telling you anything," I told her bitterly and I meant it. "This is exactly why people should keep their business personal because folks who don't know anything about it run around insinuatin' things that aren't happening and never will happen."

"Oh, so you're Sylvia Brown with your psychic skills. You see that you'll never love him. God forbid if you're in love with a man who makes you lunch at two in the morning or gives it to you so good you can't even speak about."

"You are a drama queen," I concluded, blowing her off as I stopped scrubbing and walked over to the sink to rinse off my rag. Clarissa backed away from me to give me some space at the sink, but she was burning a hole in the side of my head.

"In the last two years since that boy left you, I have never seen you glow like this," she told me seriously and I squeezed the rag tightly, letting out all of the liquid it absorbed. "You can be scared, Sash. I can understand-" I couldn't let her finish her sentence, so I raised my hand to silence her.

"Clarissa, please," I huffed. "I'm not scared. I'm not glowing. I'm happy, yes. Matthew makes me happy. I can admit that. I can admit that I care about him and I think about him more times a day than I can actually count, but that doesn't make it love. I just really like him. I haven't felt this way about any guy in a while, so you're just not used to seeing me like this. You're misunderstanding the situation."

"Sasheirah," she called gently and I sighed. "You arguing with me this much is only proving me right."

"How so?"

"You always get defensive when somebody's onto something when it comes to you," she explained as I folded my arms over my chest.

"You really don't know me that well Clarissa," I informed the older woman with narrowed eyes. She smiled to herself smugly, as if she knew I was lying my ass off. I guess I was. If I had anything close to a best friend, it was Clarissa. She was my mentor at work and the easiest person to talk to. She's basically my closest female friend in the longest time and I knew I'd be a tenth more crazy if she wasn't around to keep me together.

"Okay, Ms. Hanes," she smirked, "Or should I say Mrs... Wait, what is Matthew's last name?" I stiffened at the question and was thankful I had bent down to pick up a fallen paper towel.

"It's...Roberts." I cringed, waiting for her to smell the bullshit, but she hummed thoughtfully instead.

"Matthew Roberts," she wondered, "That is a really nice name. Sashierah Roberts... Has a ring to it, right?" I rolled my eyes, facing her fully now.

"Sashierah Hanes is just fine."

"Not as fine as Matthew," she chuckled as I laughed and waved her off.

"I'm done with this conversation." I grabbed the bowl of extra frosting and turned back to her. "Want this or can I take it home?"

"Depends..." she trailed off and I raised a brow.

"On what?" I asked and she smiled to herself.

"Where are you using it? In the kitchen or in the bedroom?"

"Oh. My. God." I raised my hands to cover my ears as we laughed. "No more. Clarissa. No more! My ears can't take another dirty joke."

"Shut up, child," she laughed again, grabbing the bowl and walking over to the fridge, "But are you sure you don't want this?" I paused and thought about all the places I could put that chocolate frosting on Matthew's vanilla skin, but then I thought about my white sheets and icing being in places that frosting should never venture.

"No, I'm okay." Clarissa shrugged and placed the bowl into the fridge.

"More for me and the hubby then." I wrinkled my nose at the images involuntarily flashing through my mind.

"TMI, Clare," I whined, "TMI."

===================================

Twenty-three minutes later, I was climbing out of my car. It was half past ten, give or take a few, and I was carefully taking the stairs up to my front door. I balanced the cake in one hand and juggled the keys in the other. I had to rush inside because I was running late in my own game plan. I had called Matthew twenty minutes ago and asked that he shower and make the bed for me. He complained, but said he'd oblige just to make me happy. I figured it was really to make me shut up since I was nagging him so much to do it.

Anyway, I had to get in the house, change, and light up his candles before he discovered I was home. I figured I was doing okay for myself since I was now in the house and could hear the shower running. I was careful to be quiet, but I'm sure he couldn't hear me over his own singing. It was 'Tailor Made' by Colbie Callet tonight. He was listening to my playlist non-stop these days and I always got the pleasure of hearing him belting out tunes in his own special way. His versions were always a bit more cheerful than the originals and it made me smile. He was my own personal jukebox.

I placed the cake on the kitchen table when I slid in, removing the glass cover and adjusting the tipping candles upright. The Victoria's Secret bag was held firmly in my hand as I ran down the basement steps and changed into my lacy babydoll ensemble before finding one of my oversized shirts and pulling it over it.

I cursed to myself as I scrambled to unhook and remove my bra. It was off in a flash before I ran up the steps and back into the kitchen. I grabbed a candle from the cake and skipped to the stove to light it up. I returned to the cake and lit up every candle I could. The cake was glowing and the red cherries and whipped cream that decorated the top and bottom edges reflected the flickers of candle light.

"Sash?" I heard Matthew call from the living room and I felt myself grow with excitement.

"In the kitchen!" I called back, pulling at the hem of my t-shirt and bumping my newly curled hair. I picked up the cake and held it steady as his footsteps neared. My smile was spreading across my face as my words got stuck in my throat.

"What-"

"Happy Birthday!" I interrupted excitedly and Matthew's face broke out into a shocked, but pleased smile.

"Aw, babe," he cooed, slowly approaching me, "You bought me a cake!"

"I made it," I corrected proudly and he raised an impressed brow.

"Really?" I nodded. "That was too sweet of you." He took the cake from me and held it in his much bigger and sturdier hands.

"Well, make a wish and blow out the candles," I encouraged. He grinned up at me before blowing out the candles. "That quick?" I asked curiously and he shrugged as he placed the cake on the table behind me. I took in the scent of his soapy skin as he leaned over me. He kissed my forehead before taking my hands as he stood up straight a second later.

"I don't really have much else to wish for," he told me softly and as I stared up to his eyes, Clarissa words, rather word, boomed through my head.

"You could've wished for your wallet back," I suggested jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Damn it, I didn't even think of that," Matthew joked back as I subtly slipped my hands from his and scurried over to the dish holder by my sink. I searched for a knife and found a good enough one before grabbing two plates.

"Well, too late now," I told him as I placed the items onto the table, "Your wish is over and done with."

"It hasn't happened yet though, so I can take it back, right?"

"There isn't a handbook on birthday cake wishes, my friend," I said sarcastically as I began to cut a slice of cake for him. Matthew removed each candle and sucked the frosting off of the ends before laying them on the table in an unneccessarily straight row. "What did you wish for anyway?" He scoffed and took his piece of cake from my hands.

"I can't tell you that," he whined, "It won't come true." I rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything. He was gone anyway, off to the sink to grab forks I forgot before opening the fridge, grabbing the gallon of 2%, and pouring two glasses of milk.

He placed one in front of me with a fork on top before we both took our seats and began chowing down on the cake. I had a piece and a half while Matt opted for two and half. He told me a million times over that my cake was delicious and I told him a million and one times over to shut up. I think he liked it though. Some sick little part of him was sadistic enough to get pleasure from my name calling and badgering. I could never understand him sometimes.

When I was done clearing the table, Matthew had long made his way upstairs to get comfortable. I promised to finish everything up down here since he was the birthday boy and I told him he had a little less than an hour left to milk me of my kindness. He promised to 'milk me alright' and I rolled my eyes, but knew that once I made it upstairs, he surely would.

Maybe that's why my stomach was so full of butterflies as I crept up the stairs and through the dark hall illuminated at the end where my bedroom lights peaked through the cracked door. I quietly slipped inside and Matthew was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and staring into space with a frump face.

"You okay?" I asked and he blinked before he looked at me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he shrugged off nonchalantly and I wasn't the least bit convinced.

"Justin... " I nagged with a warning tone and he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I was just...thinking about... stuff and I remembered some stuff and I was just trying to... get names and shit in order." This time, my face was frump and he shook his head. "That's exactly what I was trying to avoid."

"What?" I asked, freigning innocence and he stood and walked over to me, towering above my shortness with ease.

"That face," he said, "That sad, pouting, cute face."

"What did I say about that awful word?" I scolded and he smirked down at me.

"You're cute and you're really gonna have to accept that," he said, brushing his hand against my cheek. "At any rate, thank you. The cake was awesome and much appreciated." I nodded and waved him off.

"You're welcome, for the billionth time," I told him exasperated. "You'd think I gave you a kidney or something. It was just cake."

"It's not just cake," he argued, "You made me that cake from scratch and gave it to me for my birthday. I really do appreciate you doing that on top of everything else you do for me daily." I rolled my eyes.

"Matt, don't even worry about that stuff, you're not a stranger any more, you're-" I cut myself off, not knowing what I was going to call him, if anything. He waited with an expectant look and then sighed when I didn't answer.

"Still haven't figured that out yet, huh?" he asked and I shrugged.

"Well, we're more than friends, but we're not married, so I guess that's something."

"That's a relationship; a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship."

"Or friends with benefits," I offered. He raised a brow, unconvinced.

"Those 'benefits' came much later, which defeats the whole purpose of friends with benefits because it's suppose to be more about benefits than friendship and I happen to think we've got a stronger foundation than that."

"Are you trying to say the sex isn't good?" I asked, faking offense as he quickly tried to correct himself.

"No, not at all," he assured, "Baby, you are... amazing. Seriously. I'm just saying that before the amazing sex, there was just the amazing you and I thing we had going. Despite the bickering, we're pretty damn good together, right?" My bottom lip protruded outword and I did not like the way this conversation was going.

"How about you open your gift?" I wanted to distract him with a more appealing topic and it worked all too well. He was practically jumping up and down when I said gift and I was smiling again.

"Where is it?" he asked and I backed away from him and twirled around.

"You're looking at it." He raised a brow when I stopped spinning and smiled.

"Really?" he asked, unimpressed and I reached over and slapped his ungrateful arm.

"What do you mean 'really'?" I whined and he rubbed his injured arm and chuckled.

"I meant... YAY!" I glared at him.

"Forget it," I grumbled as he laughed and gently held my shoulders to keep me from going anywhere.

"Baby, I will gladly unwrap you," he said gently.

"Opportunity's lost now," I teased, crossing my arms over my chest, "Sorry, Bud."

He gave me a bored look. "Don't make me attack you."

"That's called a threat and the action you just threatened is called rape," I told him with false seriousness and he grabbed my waist and pulled me flush against him. I gasped at the sudden movement and he barely cracked a smile.

"It's not rape if you want it," he said smoothly and I forgot why I was playing hard to get for a moment.

"Fine, just for your birthday," I breathed out as he loosened his grip. "But you still have to unwrap me." I pulled away completely, lifting my arms straight up and ready to have my top removed. Matthew waited for a moment and then walked up and gripped the hem of my oversized t-shirt. He pulled it up slowly and I never missed his hands brushing accidently against my body.

I heard him breathe in deep when he took me all in and tossed my shirt into the hamper carelessly.

"Wow," he said simply before pulling up the lacey strap of my nightie sliding down my shoulder, "Wow."

"Do you like it?" I asked, twirling around slowly to give a bit of a show.

"Like it?" he asked, "I love it." I wanted to groan at the word, but instead I slauntered up against him and draped an arm around his waist before caressing his cheek.

"Don't tell me, baby," I said softly, doing my best to be a seductress despite the bit of foolishness I felt, "Show me." Matthew had this way of pausing before attacking suddenly, so when he grabbed my thighs, lifted me up around his waist, spun around and then dropped me onto the bed in what felt like a second, I was left catching my breath as I giggled with excitement.

"Oh, you can laugh now, girl," he said with a smirk, "You won't think I'm a joke soon." He was fumbling to get undressed and I was wondering why.

"Where's the fire?" I asked and he slowed a bit as he untied the drawstring of his sweats.

"I'm gonna make you come at least five times before midnight," he said simply and I raised a brow.

"Matthew, please," I glanced at the clock, "That's in less than forty minutes."

"Is that doubt?" he inquired and I shook my head.

"I'm just trying to tell you that I don't come easy," I shrugged, "Took me almost twenty minutes to do it the first time with you. And that's after two years of forced celibancy." He was down to his boxers and giving me a look with his hands placed on his hips.

"Shut up," he said and I raised a brow.

"Excuse me?" I asked, not sure why he was looking so mad. I was just being honest.

"I said shut up," he repeated as he laid over me and roughly pinned my hands above my head. "You talk too much sometimes."

"Are you trying to bruise me 'cause it might be working." I strained too look up at his grip on my wrists.

"It doesn't hurt," he argued, but he loosened up his hold anyway, "Just don't speak again unless you're calling my name, baby."

"You're getting a bit cocky here," I told him distastefully, "I don't like it."

"Well, you bruised my ego and I gotta get it back together, so stop talking... I only got about a half hour now."

"It's okay if you can't do it," I assured, "You're still amazing."

"I'm determined," he smiled, "Don't worry, I got you." I shrugged as best I could before he kissed me tenderly, biting on my bottom lip before his mouth trailed lower, caressing my neck with his tongue. I was already wet, secretly turned on by his agressiveness. I laid there and enjoyed the feel, trying my best to intesify the sensations he was causing with memories of our previous nights. I was trying to help him out here, not wanting him to be ego bruised if he failed. I don't know where all this came from, this sudden need to please me so much in such a short amount of time. It was pretty ridiculous.

Matthew was always fairly slow with sex. He liked to take his time and tease, to the point where I begged him shamelessly to stop the torture and fuck me before I had a heart attack. That didn't really cause him to hurry, if anything he moved slower. It was nice that way. It was nice now too. He didn't seem to be quickening his pace. He seemed to have lingering kisses as always. I sighed when he licked the skin around my navel after pulling up my nightie to expose my flesh.

He sunk lower, kissing my outer thighs before moving inward. I felt him nibble over me lightly through my underwear and I licked my lips, biting down in anticipation as he slowly slipped down my thong panties. I raised my hips to assist him and he looked down at me as I did so. He held my gaze for just a moment before he focused on my spreading legs. He dipped his head down and kissed me slowly along the edges of my wet lips. My thighs shook with tension as he slipped his tongue inside and over my clit in purposeful circular motions. I felt myself twitch a few seconds later and he moved his tongue faster around me before he sucked my pearl into his mouth.

My hands found his head and I pulled him closer to me, wanting to feel him as much as possible as he sucked and licked and bit down on my sensitive flesh. I came after a moment and he smirked.

"One down," he said, licking his lips. I rolled my eyes, but smiled.

"Took you forever," I teased and he raised brow.

"I'll do better next time, baby," he promised, running his fingers through my folds a few times, starting me up again before I barely finished. "Much better." He punctuated his sentence by slipping his fingers inside of me. I responded with a moan.

He was definitely doing better. Much, much better.

=======================================

Damn, if I wasn't in love with him, I was for damn sure in love with his mouth, hands, dick, eyes, nose, mouth... Yes, that's twice. How could I not be? He knew how to use them all in his entire seduction/sex process. I easily succombed to them without a thought to at least try to hold off. It would be just a losing battle. I don't know why I questioned the boy, if he wanted me to come, I'd come. I knew that much and should have just admitted such.

I came a total of six and half times. Yes, a half. Despite Matt's arguing, I called it a half since I temporary assisted him by rubbing my clit while he took me from behind. He still discredits that fact, claiming that if he weren't stroking so well, I wouldn't have been turned on enough to touch myself, so since he was the reason behind the instinct, he had full credit to the result.

Whatever.

He could've told me the sky was pink and the moon was blue and I would've told him yes just to end the argument. Matthew had a thing for having the last word. He was quiet now though, snuggled comfortably beneath my arm, face against my chest all prickly with stubble and warm. He was the most peaceful looking sleeper ever. It was like he never got enough sleep and it was just the most relieving thing in the world to lay down and just close his eyes... I could definitely understand that fact. I didn't spend half as much time in bed as I do now. Matthew's big blue eyes and bright smile are too tempting to pass up for more hours at work. I always used to take any shift they'd give me on a day off; too frustrated with the quiet of my home. Now, they barely think to ask me for help. It's usually after two or three people have already been asked.

I ran my hand over his cheek and he sighed and moved a little closer. I smiled to myself. I loved that he loved my touch. He always snuggled into me or pressed me against him. He always wanted some part of my body on his. It wasn't always sexual either. Sometimes he'd just take my hand, kiss it, and run his lips over it. I always teased him about being a freak, but I always saw the genuine adoration he had for me.

It was frightening, to say the least, to know that somebody adored you. It made you adore them back despite the growing anxiousness that filled your gut. My mind was anticipating the worst, but my heart... My heart had a mind of its own. I almost cringed at how stupid I sounded, even to myself. It was just about two months and this is where I'm at. After all my efforts to build walls and guards, he comes along and fucks it up in two months.

I could just smack him for it.

But I won't.

I could never mess up that face. That face that I love.

I could never cause Matthew pain.

That man that I love.

The words left my thoughts and they tasted sweet in my mind, but at the same time forbidden, almost dirty. I knew I could never say them out loud. Not now. I had to think it through. Infactuation was as close to love as you could get. Maybe I was just infactuated. Maybe I didn't actually love Matthew.

I paused.

That thought most definitely didn't seem right. Of course I love Matthew... as a friend, for sure, but are we even friends? How can you love somebody as a friend and be 'dating' them, and not be in love with them? What the hell is the difference?

Maybe I should ask Clarissa...But I already knew what she'd say. Girl, you love that damn boy! Stop frontin', get married, and have some babies! I shook my head, it was ridiculous and very Clarissa like. She was always talking about marriage and babies. You'd think she wasn't married with kids the way she often fantasized about them and drove everybody in the hospital crazy with her schemes to hook people up and make some babies.

I need more friends.