I was missing my baby already. This whole her staying with my parents shit wasn’t gon’ fly. But I had to keep telling myself that it was safer for her there. They had a crew of people in the house at all times, so Lovie would never be alone. And my father rented out the house next to them for his full-time security team. Lovie was in good hands. Still, I was even more determined now to find this damn witness and handle this shit.
My plan was to go home, shower and change clothes, then head back out. But when I set the lamp on the coffee table in the living room… something shifted inside of me. It was like it was calling to me. Not vocally. No sounds were coming out. But in my soul. Something was drawing me back to the lamp every time I tried to walk away from it.
Unable to resist, I picked the lamp back up and brushed it against my shirt to wipe the dust off of it since I was about to take it off to shower anyway. As I went to sit it back down, purple and pink smoke began to leave the spout. It got bigger and bigger, forming the shape of a person. A woman. The longer I stared at the smoke the clearer an image became.
When the image solidified, it wasn’t an image at all. It was a woman. Floating mid-air, she coughed and shook dust from her body. It didn’t take long before she was falling flat on her ass and letting out the cutest, “Oww,” I’d ever heard. I wanted to be a gentleman about the shit and help her up, but I was frozen. In complete shock of what I was seeing.
She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but she looked like she’d been to hell and back. Dust covered her body and her clothes were ripped and tattered. Shaking my head, I forced myself to look away. I couldn’t necessarily say she wasn’t real because there were people who would say Nairobi men weren’t real either. After grabbing the blanket I kept on the couch for Lovie, I walked over to her and wrapped it around her body.
She must not have even noticed me because as soon as I did, she jumped back and let out a clipped scream. “Who are you? Where am I?”
I opened my mouth to answer her, but no words would come out. This woman had me captivated. All I could do was stare at her. She was a Genie. A beautiful Genie. A real Genie.
Her spiral, curly afro was brown and gold. And big as fuck. Some of it was pulled frontwards, like a curly bang, and it came down to her piercing silver eyes. She had a round face… smooth cinnamon brown skin. Plump, juicy ass pink lips.
Fuck.
This woman was bad as hell.
But it was something else about her that drew me to her beyond her looks. Something that had me forgetting how to speak as I inched toward her on my knees. If her ass didn’t stop me soon, I was going to kiss her, and that was nothing like me…
He was going to kiss me. It wouldn’t be the first time a man tried to kiss me as soon as he saw me. It would, however, be the first time I wanted a man to. I didn’t know anything about this man other than he was fine as hell and nice, too. He’d offered me a blanket instead of going crazy trying to figure out who I was and what I was doing there. Already, that made him different in my book.
I’d seen a lot of men over the years, but none of them made my pussy pulse and leak the way he did. His hair was cut short, very, very black, and wavy. It was on his face too – thick and shiny. And his skin was the color of peanuts. His eyes were dark and under turned. Bedroom eyes that I couldn’t pull my eyes away from. But as he inched closer, I forced myself to look down at his full, pomegranate colored lips and how they were dangerously near mine.
There was a beauty mark about an inch away from his nose. I couldn’t resist running the pad of my pointer finger against it. When I did, that must have pulled him out of his trance because he hopped up quickly.
“Who are you?” he asked, with a voice so deep and strong I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from releasing a moan.
“I asked you first.”
The left side of his mouth lifted but he dropped it quickly as he grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. “But you’re in my house.”
At his chest, I inhaled his scent. I couldn’t trace all the notes, but it was definitely sandalwood, citrus, and something else that smelled divine. “You smell really, really good.”
Gripping my throat, I turned away from him as his eyes softened towards me. I felt like I was about to have another coughing spell. As soon as I began to cough again, he rushed out and came back with a glass of water. I couldn’t even manage to thank him as I reached for it because I was coughing so hard. “More,” I requested quietly, throat sore already. He left and came back holding two arms full of water in clear, plastic containers. The gesture made me laugh until I started coughing again.
After tossing them onto the couch, he opened one and handed it to me. The more water I drank the better I felt. And looked. The dust began to dissolve from my skin, and I felt my blood circulating again.
“What year is this? And where am I?”
“2020. Essence, Tennessee.”
Clutching my heart, I shook my head at the thought of Quenton and the fact that I’d been in my lamp for exactly two hundred years.
“What part of the country is this?”
His head tilted and confusion covered his face. Even with his partially opened mouth, wrinkled eyebrows and questioning eyes, he was still beautiful.
“America. How long were you in there?”
“Two hundred years. I… need a moment to filter in today’s times and trends. I have to acclimate myself because of what I’ve missed. Do you mind?”
His head shook softly as he weakly fell onto the couch. Turning my back to him, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and silently called upon Crimsen, asking for her divine powers to give me a glimpse of the past two hundred years and implant within me everything I’d need to know and be to survive this current time.
Hundreds of images flashed before my eyes, including one of Quenton dying. As much as I wished that would have given me some type of happiness or peace, it didn’t. It only filled me with sadness for him that was laced with anger. Because of him, I’d been trapped for two hundred years. I don’t know how on earth I made it to America and why no one had ever rubbed my lamp to get me out, so it must have been fate.
Fate.
To be here, with him. And I didn’t even know his name.
Turning to face him, I extended my hand and told him, “My name is Genevieve Yates, but you can call me Genie. I’m actually your Genie.”
His face was blank until I smiled. When I did, he blushed. But that blush quickly turned into lust as he licked his lips and pulled me between his legs. Not bothering to stand, he looked up at me as he asked, “How does this shit work?”
I was used to men stumbling over themselves when it came to me, but I’d never been the one feeling all weightless and nervous and silly because of them. Until now. For a moment, all I could do was stare into his beautifully dark eyes.
“Genevieve?”
Genevieve.
No one ever called me by my name.
No one ever saw me for me.
Pulling my hand away from his, I turned and took a step away from him. As soon as he stood behind me, I felt his presence. My eyes closed as I felt the heat from his body transfer into mine.
“You good?” he checked softly, gripping my arm gently and turning me to face him. The place he touched grew cold, which was the complete opposite of what it did with most men. Usually it grew hot. I remember explaining that to Quenton and he said it was a good thing – sparks. A fiery connection.