8. Kyrie Maddox #2
Her breath hitched. Then she pulled back. Not far. Just enough.
Her lips still hovered close to mine, her eyes locking onto me like she had something to prove.
“You always do that.”
A smirk pulled at my mouth. “Do what?”
“Try and get me to fold.” Her fingers pressed lightly into my chest.
I let out a low breath, my forehead brushing against hers for a second before I leaned back just enough to look at her.
“’Cause I know yo’ ass want this dick. You’re just playing right now.”
Her pupils blew wide.
My hand slid from her neck, dragging along her shoulder, then lower until it settled on her thigh. She didn’t stop me. Didn’t move. Just watched me, her chest rising a little faster.
I leaned in again, slower this time, giving her room to pull away.
She didn’t.
Our lips met again, deeper now, less careful. My grip tightened on her thigh, my thumb moving in slow circles like I was learning her, figuring her out piece by piece.
I tilted my head, pulling back just enough for my breath to brush her lips.
“You still think you ain’t about that?”
Her lips parted like she was about to say something… then she didn’t. Just looked at me.
I watched her for a second, then sat back slightly.
“Take those off and lie back.”
Confusion crossed her face. “Why?”
“Because I asked you to.”
“Kyrie, what are you… You know we can’t—”
She was asking too many questions.
My jaw tightened. “Stop asking me all them questions and do what I said.”
She went quiet. Then her hands moved. She moved slowly at first, then faster. She slid her shorts and underwear down, letting them fall. Then she leaned back against the armrest, legs still closed, breathing shallowly, as if she didn’t know what to expect—but she wasn’t stopping.
That told me everything.
I shifted between her legs, working around the sling like it was nothing. My hand pressed against her knee, firm yet controlled.
“Open up for me, ma.”
And there she was. Swollen, glistening, already wet as hell for me.
I moved between her thighs, my good hand gripping just above her knee before I lifted her leg and threw it over my shoulder. She opened up for me easily, and that angle alone had my jaw tightening, my dick jumping hard in my sweats.
“Kyrie—”
“Nawl,” I cut her off, my voice rough. “You done talking.”
My grip tightened slightly.
“You been playing all day… now you gon’ take this shit.”
I leaned down, pressing my mouth to her inner thigh, dragging my tongue up slowly. She jerked under me, a sharp breath escaping her, and I felt that shit.
Yeah… That’s what I wanted.
I took my time getting there, moving slowly on purpose, letting it build instead of rushing. By the time I got where I wanted, I let out a low groan against her.
“Fuck…”
She was already wet as hell.
I dragged my tongue through her, slow at first, tasting her, then went back again, a little deeper. Her hand flew to my head, fingers gripping my hair like she didn’t know whether she wanted me closer or to stop me.
I ain’t give her that choice. I kept going.
My hand stayed locked on her leg, keeping her open as I worked her the way I wanted—steady, controlled, not switching up too fast. Every time her body jumped, I adjusted just enough to keep her right there.
“Oh, my God—” she breathed.
I flicked my tongue just enough to make her jerk again, then went back in, slower this time, making her feel every bit of it. Her grip tightened on my hair, pulling, and I leaned into it instead of easing up.
Her hips started moving on their own, grinding against my mouth, chasing it.
I let her think she had some control while I stayed right where I wanted.
“Kyrie… fuck—”
“That’s it,” I muttered against her. “Stay right there.”
I kept my pace steady, building it, not rushing, letting that pressure build until her whole body started reacting without her even thinking about it. Her thighs tightened, her back arched, and her breathing grew uneven.
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” I said, lifting my head just enough to look at her. “You gon’ take it.”
That did it. She broke.
Her whole body tensed, then gave out all at once, her back arching as she came, her voice spilling out loud and messy. I ain’t stop either. I stayed right there, working her through it, making sure she felt every second.
Her hands pushed at me weakly after a minute, too sensitive now, and that’s when I finally eased back.
I sat up slowly, dragging my hand across my mouth, looking down at her lying out on the couch, chest rising and falling, legs still open, completely spent.
That’s what I wanted. I leaned back, my eyes dragging over her, taking it all in. My sweats were tight as hell, but I ain’t even touch myself.
This wasn’t about me.
“Still think you ain’t mine?” I asked, my voice rough.
She ain’t answer right away. Just lay there, trying to breathe, her hand coming up over her face.
I smirked, then reached out, sliding my hand slowly up her leg.
“Yeah… you needed that shit.”
Her hand dropped, and she looked at me, something different in her eyes now. That attitude, that little game she’d been playing?
That shit was fading.
“You didn’t have to…” she began.
“Yeah,” I cut her off. “I did.”
My hand stilled on her leg, my eyes locked on hers.
“So, you understand.”
She hesitated for a second, then, “…Okay.”
My head tilted. “Okay, what?”
She swallowed, voice lower now.
“Okay, I’m yours.”
I nodded slowly, satisfaction settling deep in my chest. “That's what I thought.”
She sat up slowly, wincing a little, and reached for her shorts. I watched her pull them back on and watched her hands shake just slightly.
Yeah. She wasn't gonna play hard to get anymore.
And I was just getting started.