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If you’ve read the story starter – a very long Chapter 1 – and you’re ready to dive into the story with me, please continue reading.

About the story: (short description. Click here for longer)

“Let Me Love You” is not just a tale of love and sacrifice but also a poignant story of self-discovery, celebrating the human capacity to find love in the most unlikely of circumstances.

Please enjoy the current WIP of Iris and El. This will be published freely up to a point… like the old days and then the entire book will be posted for the full download. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. And don’t forget to check out the companion stories. (Wicked Chances, Dreams of Reality, The Convenient Wife & Ravenous)

Enjoy, Your Author, Sylvia Hubbard

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Read more: Let Me Love You – Chapter 10✍🏾📚❤️ #SylLit #WIP #livestory 📖💓 #marriedwife #demandedconsensual #darkromance

Having a moment to herself, Iris looked more profoundly in the mirror to see if anything had changed. Her face looked the same, but inside, her body felt different.

There was this dance about her eyes as if she had a secret. She knew that if Dwayne saw her face, he would see something different. 

How the hell had El done that to her body? An orgasm without penetration? 

Had he given her a drug? Had she just been that horny?

Was it just because she was horny? Starved for affection? Touch? Innocent? 

Did other women do this?

Dwayne had never been affectionate with her, so Iris had nothing to compare anything she’d had in the past with. 

Maybe it was because El was ethnically different. Was being mixed with black and white made him view himself differently?

No, that was ridiculous. If that were the case, every woman would be flocking to every light-skinned mixed man.

Iris desired to figure out how he had made her orgasm without hardly touching her.

But he hadn’t told her if he agreed to her contract terms. Crap, they were about to go into a meeting, and she didn’t have the upper hand! Would he help her? Or had he just used her? 

You’ll have to work harder with him to keep her wits and sensibilities together, Iris reprimanded herself.

Shielding her pleasurable joy in her familiar Iris box, she composed herself before exiting the bathroom. Looking in Lester’s direction, she saw the beady-eyed man nearly snarling at her. By this time, he’d moved to the administration lobby and looked very put out that she had moved him from his position of power around the office. 

Of course, Iris had not known El would do something like that, and she knew she had made an instant enemy because of this move, but she’d find a way not to rock the boat with Lester. 

Getting herself together, Iris quickly went to the small fourth-floor conference room with a patio. Lester had arranged a private lunch with food for four. A crew was setting out the lunch; unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing displayed. Dwayne was drinking his second Bellini with the other empty glass still in his hand and looking over Downtown Detroit like he owned the city. 

It looked like he dragged his wedding tuxedo out the back of the closet. Iris remembered that sad day when her father literally tortured her to marry Dwayne, wearing Violet’s old wedding dress. Dwayne didn’t comment on her black eye and busted lip either, and she had to hold Clem the entire ceremony because he wouldn’t stop crying.

Today, Dwayne wore a plaid dookie brown tie with small white diamond shapes. It was his only real tie in the closet, and he didn’t know how to tie it correctly. All the others he wore were clips.

Usually, to make him look smart, she fixed these things about him, but today, Iris felt different, as if it wasn’t her job anymore to help him.

When Dwayne turned to see her, he looked relieved. He checked her over and saw that she looked well. In fact, he looked happy to see her.

“You okay?” he asked, coming up to her.

His concern shocked Iris. “It’s no different from working with you, Dwayne. Same thing. I just look at reports and evaluate them.” She was doing her best, ‘Nothing is better’ voice.

“Did he ask you if I hurt you?” Dwayne asked nervously.

“No,” and this was the truth, so there was no hesitation in her reply.

Dwayne looked doubly relieved. “Good.” He grabbed another Bellini. “I got all the shit on him, Iris. He thinks he’s gonna just use you, and I ain’t getting a dime? I found out what that ass did in New York, and I’m going to use it against him. Has he tried to feel you? Touch you?”

“After what you told him about me yesterday?” she asked so she wouldn’t have to lie. “Why would he?”

Cackling, her husband said, “Yeah, you’re right, plus his kind ain’t trying to go to the dark side. Light ass probably ain’t never had no black shit in his life and wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” He grimaced in disgust. “Hell, I can barely muster a hard-on, and that’s cause I ain’t had none in a while. If it wasn’t for you looking a little bit like your sister, I wouldn’t touch you at all, either.”

Iris turned away, hoping he would assume her feelings were hurt, and walked over to the square table. “What else did you find out?” she inquired, needing to change the subject.

“He had some accusations of felonious assault in Chicago, but couldn’t be charged. Someone said Mr. O tried to shoot them, but his alibi placed him across town.”

“That’s a pretty hard charge against someone?”

“This guy was the uncle of a good friend of Mr. O’s and said there had been threats. I don’t know, whatever, that’s not what I focused on. The New York shit is enough to get what I want out of him.” Dwayne didn’t sit next to her but across from her, even though there were name tags on each plate set out.

“You’re supposed to sit here,” she instructed him.

“Nah, I need to make this fucker uncomfortable.” Dwayne placed his half-drank Bellini by a plate to indicate it was his seat. “He’s got this condition he doesn’t like to get next to people. Imma sit right by this motherfucker and get all in his face.”

“Wow, Dwayne. You really did a lot of research.” She soothed him, trying to sound impressed. “What did he do in New York?”

“Seduced some business guy’s wife. They’d been having an affair for a year; Had her pretending to be an assistant. Thought he was gonna pull the same thing with you, but how you tell it, he’s all business. Probably why he chose your ugly ass, so he couldn’t get another lawsuit.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

He looked a little rankled by her tone of voice and was about to say something, but the two well-dressed men walked out on the patio. One of those men was El, and the other was a six-foot dark-haired, dark-eyed white man with a large case. He was most likely the lawyer. 

Dwayne shot out of his chair and walked towards them. Both men looked at her husband as if he were an oddity.

“Dwayne Folsom,” he introduced himself as if the unknown man should be happy to meet him.

“Tyler Black, Esquire,” the lawyer introduced himself, shaking Dwayne’s hand confidently. “I’m here representing Mr. Olorun. Did you bring your council, Mr. Folsom?”

“Nah, I got enough smarts to make sure Mr. O ain’t gonna pull the wool over my eyes.”

The lawyer smirked as if he had a secret but was not about to let Dwayne in on it. “Let me get set up so we may begin.”

The servers had started setting the food out: Caesar salad and chicken salad with dried cherries—something light and delicious for a nice summer day.

Hungry as all get out, Iris ignored their conversation momentarily and wolfed down her food because she hadn’t eaten a complete meal in a while. She still refused to make full eye contact with El but could occasionally feel his gaze on her. Although Iris did note he had changed his suit, he still looked as good as ever. She had a massive urge to walk over and smell him for some strange reason. To sate this, she stuffed more food in her mouth.

“Hungry?” El’s voice said above her.

Looking up with a mouth full of food she had been so into eating, she hadn’t noticed he had made his way over to the table while Dwayne was still trying to impress the lawyer with how much he knew about the law. Dwayne was spouting off all the law shows and movies he had watched recently.

The lawyer looked inwardly perturbed, but Iris knew Dwayne was too stupid to see this.

As for El, Iris had decided to go on the fearful route in front of Dwayne. If she pretended not to want to look at him, Dwayne wouldn’t suspect a thing. She had chosen to not visually give any attention to El. It was easier.

“A little,” she admitted, using the napkin to wipe her mouth. 

“Is the food good?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear him.

Nervous, Iris wondered what his angle was in this general conversation. “It’s good,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

He crossed his arms over his body and said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were completely ignoring the fact I just made you orgasm thirty minutes ago.”

She almost spit the food out of her mouth and was glad she still had the napkin in her hand to stop herself from spewing. Damn, her womanhood twitched, clearly reminding her that she still had some lingering arousal from the orgasm he had given her.

Dwayne and the lawyer had not heard El.

El turned away to look over Detroit in appreciation, as if he had not just brought up their intimate moment in a public place.

Dwayne snatched the last Bellini off the tray the server was actually trying to offer the lawyer and came over to the table. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked Iris. “You so stupid you can’t eat, right?” 

That annoying cackle emitted from his lips, and Iris lowered her head as if the comment had hurt her feelings. However, she was trying to close the box she kept Iris in. Responding to El and then reacting to Dwayne at the same time confused the hell out of her and she needed a moment to get herself together.

El had done a very naughty thing, and she was going to devise a way to get him back after this was over.

End of This Chapter | Post your thoughts in the comment | Let the author know what’s going on in your head

Let Me Love You (c) 2024 Sylvia Hubbard All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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