Chapter seven- Eshe
PAST
Agonizing. That was the only way to describe the forty minutes I sat there waiting. Every time I shifted in my seat, I prayed a big-ass wet spot didn’t end up on my skirt. Watching ten sweaty Black men run up and down the court was doing something to me. Too much for one girl to manage, honestly.
Donte’s team won. He spent a few minutes talking to his teammates, exchanging money and daps.
Then he finally gave me his full attention.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” he said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward his car.
I pulled my hand back. “I’d rather drive myself,” I said, trying my best to sound sweet so my words didn’t come off sour.
He didn’t look happy about it. Oh well. Granny taught me never to be stranded without a way home, and I lived by that.
I followed him to a little hole-in-the-wall fish market.
He waited for me by the door. After we were seated and ordered, he leaned back in the booth with his arms folded behind his head, eyes on me like I was dessert.
“What?” I asked. “Just wondering’ what those lips would feel like wrapped—” An elderly waitress cut him off before the vulgarity finished falling out of his mouth.
Bless her. Because I was already halfway wet. His words would’ve made me wetter.
She dropped off our drinks. I squirmed in my seat.
Once she walked away, a beat passed before he spoke again.
“I want to be honest with you. Up front.” “Okay?” He sounded way too serious for this to be a first date, but I was listening.
“This ain’t a regular occurrence,” he said, waving one hand between us.
“Going out with women. I don’t usually have time for this.
Matter of fact, I don’t have the time—or the want—for all that romantic shit women like you want.
” I raised a brow. “Women like me?” He nodded.
“Yeah. Women like you. Got that hard outer shell, but all soft and gushy on the inside.” I was almost offended.
“You know that about me after what—thirty minutes of interaction?” “Yes.” Just like that.
No hesitation. No apology. I nodded slowly.
“Whatever.” I wasn’t about to argue with a practical stranger over what he thought he knew about me.
“So what are you telling me exactly?” I asked.
“I want to fuck you,” he said, calm and direct.
“But that’s all I want. No dates, no long phone calls, no titles, no obligations.
” Blunt. Surgical. The words hit like a slap, but somehow I respected it more than the usual game.
The food came out and saved me from responding right away.
We both ate in silence. Awkward silence.
I’d never had a man be that blunt before—so callous about it.
I felt a way, but I couldn’t even find the words to name it.
Still, I knew I couldn’t be mad. Most men lied, wasted your time, made you believe they wanted a future when all they really wanted was pussy. Donte had skipped all that. Gave it to me straight.
After we ate, he paid the check and followed me out to my car. Quiet. “It was nice meeting you,” he said, opening my driver’s side door. He didn’t seem fazed by the fact that we were parting without reaching an understanding. Meanwhile, I felt… rejected.
I didn’t like that feeling. But instead of driving my ass home and processing it like a rational adult, I stayed stuck in my own pattern of self-sabotage.
I had issues—I knew that. I shouldn’t have made a spontaneous decision.
But I was hardheaded. “Okay,” I said. “Okay what?” “Let’s fuck.
” Just like that. Head first. Into the shallow end of stupidity.
“You sure?” he asked. “I ain’t stressing you, shawty.
If you don’t think you can handle what I’m offering, don’t do it.
Don’t get your feelings hurt.” It sounded like a warning—but also a dare.
“Wanna do it now?” I asked. That’s what I’d come for, right?
The missing drawls were proof. He blinked.
“You sure?” “Yeah. Really fucking sure.”
To show him just how serious I was, I rose onto my tiptoes and kissed him—deep and intentional. I was trying to steal his breath, his heart, his soul. Whichever one was easiest to keep.
It was retaliation, if I was being honest. For the rejection.
The honesty. One of my biggest flaws was always feeling like I had to prove myself.
It led to constant stress, never being satisfied, always chasing validation.
But I was aware of my bullshit. That was the first step.
So I knew one day, I’d figure it out. Find peace. Grow. Just not tonight.
His words had stung. My feelings were hurt. But I needed to prove he couldn’t hurt me further. That I was strong. That he was just a big dick, a nice body, and a cocky attitude. I’d had better. I didn’t need him. Just the satisfaction fucking him would give me.
My want for him was superficial. Fleeting.
That’s what I told myself. I grabbed his hand and guided it down the waistband of my skirt, mimicking what he’d done earlier.
“Fuck,” he hissed, two fingers slipping through heat and wetness.
My logic? Gone. My shame? Dead. My conscience?
The bitch had already clocked out. “This pussy super wet,” he groaned, voice thick with greed.
I stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side.
His fingers curled into a fist, still glistening.
He frowned, thinking I’d changed my mind.
I hadn’t. I opened the back door of my car and waited.
Without hesitation, he climbed in and pulled me with him.
The scent of his sweat and cologne made my head spin.
I straddled his lap. Moaned when he tugged my shirt down over my bra. My skirt rode up, and he pulled my right breast out of its cup. His mouth found my nipple and I damn near lost my mind. “Fuck,” I cursed, my head falling back against the seat.
His mouth lit a fuse in me. My whole body shook. Sirens went off in my head. Stop this. Stop this now. I didn’t listen. I never did.
He lifted me by the waist. I felt the thick head of his dick pressing at my entrance. Instinctively, I stopped him with my hand. “Condom,” I reminded him breathlessly. “I don’t have one,” he panted. “I’m clean. I’ll pull out.”
That made me pause. Made me see the man behind the dick.
I almost pulled my skirt down and told him to get the fuck out of my car.
If he was this comfortable raw-dogging a stranger, I didn’t want to know how many other bitches he’d played Russian roulette with.
I almost walked away. Almost. “I do,” I said, pulling one out from between my breasts. I held it out.
He looked offended. Like I’d broken the fantasy. Like he was hoping I was stupid enough to play the fool. “What’s wrong?” “You came prepared,” he said, like I was supposed to pretend this wasn’t what it was after everything he’d just said.
I ignored the flash in his eyes. Tore open the foil and rolled the condom down his thick shaft myself, distracting him. He sucked air through his teeth as I sank down on him—slow, tight, deep. Somebody whimpered—probably him. I smiled through the stretch.
I sat still for a second once he was all the way in, adjusting to the pressure. His dick was almost too big. It pulsed inside my throbbing walls. I could feel the curve, every thick vein.
Then I moved—just my hips at first. A slow roll, like I had all night.
He hissed and gripped my thighs. I kept going.
Ground down harder, let my clit drag against his pelvis with every pass.
“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping back against the seat.
His hands moved to my ass, squeezing like he needed something to hold on to.
I lifted up slightly, then dropped. Did it again. A steady bounce. He bit his bottom lip. “You riding’ the fuck out this dick…”
I rode him harder. Gripped the back of the seat for balance, letting him slide out halfway before dropping back down. The sound of skin on skin filled the car—wet and filthy.
He started to meet my rhythm, hips rising to catch me mid-thrust. I gasped, legs trembling as the friction built and the heat in my belly knotted tight. My body begged for release, and I chased it, grinding circles against him, letting his dick hit every spot inside me.
His fingers dug into my waist. “Shit, baby. You ‘bout to make me cum.” “I’m close,” I whispered, voice ragged.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged. I snapped. My body clenched around him, wave after wave ripping through me, stealing the breath from my lungs. I buried my face in his neck and came with a cry I couldn’t swallow.
He grunted, cursed, and fucked up into me harder—one, two, three deep thrusts before he froze, chest heaving as he spilled into the condom.
I stayed there, limp and breathless, his dick twitching inside me. My sweat mixed with his. Our chests rose and fell out of sync. I caught my breath.
Then, without a word, I lifted off, climbed out of the backseat, and slid into the front like he wasn’t even there.
I caught his expression in the rearview.
He looked confused. I handed him a wipe from my glove compartment.
“Thank you,” he said when he took it. I adjusted my bra.
Smoothed down my skirt. “No. Thank you.” “For what?” He frowned.
“For that. I needed to get fucked.” “Okay,” he replied, like he was trying to figure something out.
And I knew then I had thrown him off balance.
He wasn’t used to getting exactly what he wanted—a quick fuck.
He still had the condom halfway on when I cranked my engine. “When can I see you again?” he asked, hand bracing the open door. I smiled without teeth. “Text me.” His brows pinched, like he wasn’t sure if I’d insulted him or not. He didn’t move.
I tapped the wheel with my nail. One beat. Two. Yes. You’re being dismissed.
Finally, he slid out. Slowly. I waved as I pulled off, not even glancing back again. Patting myself on the back for flipping the script, for fucking and leaving, like he wanted to do me.
But even as the night swallowed his figure in the rearview, victory didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. And if I’m being real... I would’ve never fucked him if I knew I’d feel this empty after.