12. Sametra #3
“MiMi, all you gotta do is tell me what you want, and that’s what we are. I don’t need some big dramatic moment or timeline.” His hand found mine, fingers intertwining. “I like you and I want to be with you, but I don’t want to rush you into feeling the way I already do.”
“And how do you feel?” I asked, turning to face him fully.
“Like I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to be the person you call when something good happens or when everything goes wrong. I want to keep sweeping you off your feet until I’m six feet in a cemetery.
I feel like I’d do anything for you,” He paused, studying my face. “Is that what you want?”
His lips pecked mine, and I pecked his back. And then naturally we met in the middle, our heads turning side to side, tongues dancing, hands roaming. Until we pulled back.
“Hell yeah, I do,” I whispered, looking into his eyes. His smooth face slowly moved into a grin.
“What do you want to call this?” he asked, bringing our joined hands to his lips to press a soft kiss to my knuckles.
“I want to be your girlfriend,” I said, the words feeling both foreign and natural on my tongue. “Officially.”
His smile was brilliant in the string light glow. “Then you’re my girlfriend, my yeah yeah, my pookie butt, my ole lady, my LT, my sun, my moon. Should I keep going?”
“I’m almost curious to see how long you can go.”
“My first, my last, my everything, my sand at the beach, my salt of the ear?—”
“Okay, okay,” I said, blushing, moving to get up and turn the music up some more, but he pulled me back into his lap. I leaned my head back on his shoulder, and he looked in my eyes again.
“I’ll chill, you blushing, and I don’t want you to get lockjaw. I need it in tip top shape. I’m your man, though. Simple as that.”
“That easy?”
“That easy,” he confirmed, his arms tightening around me. “Now, what else is on that mind of yours? Because I can see those wheels turning.”
I took a breath, gathering courage. “Where do you see this going? I mean, really. Because I need to know if we’re playing house or if you’re serious about building something.”
I took a breath, steadying myself before speaking. “Where do you see this going? I mean… really. Because I need to know if we’re just playing house or if you’re actually serious about building something with me.”
The words sat heavy between us, but I couldn’t take them back—and I didn’t want to.
Maybe it was the sex that cracked something open in me, made things feel more urgent. Or maybe it was my need to protect myself, to control what I could before things spun too far out of reach. But deep down, I knew the truth.
I was in love with him. And not the soft, fleeting kind either. The kind that made me think about forever, about merging routines and raising a son and healing the parts of me I thought I had to live with broken.
So yeah, I needed to ask. Not to rush him, but to see if we were looking in the same direction—because my heart wasn’t built for halfway.
“Sametra, we just made it official, and you already want a ring?” he asked. “Damn, what size?”
He was joking, making me smile, but I was serious.
“Seriously, Malik. Like do you want more kids? Are you worried about your job for real and just not telling me? Do you want to get married one day?”
“Baby,” his voice taking on that serious tone that made my stomach flutter, “I don’t play house. I’m thirty-seven years old. I know what I want, and what I want is you. In my life, in my house, in my future. All of it and then some.”
“Even with all my shit? Samaj, school, crazy baby daddy, the whole package?”
“Especially with all of that,” he said firmly. “First off, fuck your baby daddy. Secondly, that’s not baggage, baby. That’s your life. And I want to be part of your life, not some separate piece you keep in a box.”
I blinked hard, trying to keep the emotion from spilling over. The certainty in his voice always forced butterflies to dance in my stomach. “You really mean that.”
“Every word. And to answer your questions…yes, I want more kids. With you. Yes, I want to get married. To you. And no, I’m not worried about my job because I don’t put all my eggs in one basket, and I won’t let anyone tell me who I can love. I’ll deal with the consequences. I’ll bounce back.”
My heart was beating so fast I was sure he could feel it.
“You’re really trying to wife me up, aren’t you?” I whispered.
“Absofuckinglutely, you finna be stuck with me through all the good, bad, and ugly, but you knew that already.”
I looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but honesty and intention. This man who’d already proven himself with actions, not just words was mine, heaven sent, for me .
“I’m ready,” I said softly.
“Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss me slowly, thoroughly. “Because I plan on loving you for a very long time, Sametra Andrews.”
“Future Mrs. Holloway, you mean?” I teased, remembering his earlier declarations.
“Damn right, my bad. How could I let that slip?” he grinned against my lips.
As we sat there under the stars, wine forgotten, holding each other close, the puzzle felt complete. This wasn’t just about falling in love anymore. This was about building a life.
“Stay the night,” I said suddenly.
“You sure? What about Samaj?”
“He’s almost eighteen, and he likes you. Besides,” I traced patterns on his chest through his shirt, “I want to wake up next to my boyfriend tomorrow morning.”
His eyes darkened at the word boyfriend, and I could feel his body respond to my touch.
“In that case,” he murmured, standing and lifting me with him, “let me show you how much I love being your man.”
And as he carried me toward the house, I realized I was finally ready to stop being afraid of happiness.
I deserved good morning texts, dinner dates, good sex, flowers just because, someone who showed up when they said they would…
all the things. And lucky for me, I had a man who would ensure I had all that and then some.
He set me down gently once we were inside, his hands immediately finding my waist as he backed me against the patio door.
“We need to seal it with a kiss,” he said, that romantic side of him making the hopeless romantic in me scream and squeal like a schoolgirl whose crush finally looked at her.
“My girlfriend,” he murmured against my lips, like he was testing how the word felt.
“Your girlfriend,” I confirmed breathlessly, my hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes filled with heat and mischief. “How many you got for me tonight?”
“As many you’re trying to give me,” I challenged, feeling bold and reckless in the best way.
His smile was devious as he lifted me again. This time I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me toward my bedroom. He pressed me against the door frame and whispered, “Then we’ll have to be quiet, baby. Can’t wake up, Samaj.”
This man was insane if he thought I could stay silent through what was about to transpire. He brought earth-shattering responses out of me that had me seeing stars.
“It’ll be fun,” he whispered.
Things started off slow. A kiss here. A kiss there. Tender touches in the shower, whispers of all the freaky shit he wanted to try, but that didn’t last long. Malik turned it up a notch, lifting my leg in the shower and sliding in. I hissed lowly.
“Good,” he whispered, his hand slipping around my throat from behind.
My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth found my ear, teeth grazing the skin just enough to make me shiver.
The sound of water drummed against his back while he moved inside me with slow, deliberate strokes.
The only thing louder than the shower was the soft, wet rhythm of us every inch he gave, every inch I took.
Silently, I allowed this man to tap on my G-spot.
My walls tightened as I began to reach my peak.
His hand moved to gently cover my mouth.
My spine tingled, my toes curled, and my back arched more.
The fact that I couldn’t scream raised my pleasure through the roof.
Waves of pleasure crashed over me. I felt like I was floating as I collapsed.
I discovered a new kind of intimacy. The kind that required restraint, focus, and complete trust in each other.
I’d kill a bitch if he ever decided to share this.
Hours later, as I lay curled against his chest, completely spent, still trying to catch my breath.
The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my cheek.
My body was sore in the best way possible.
What we shared wasn’t just sex, it was communion. A release and a conquering.
“I love you,” I whispered into the darkness, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
His body stilled beneath me for just a moment before his arms tightened around me.
“I love you too, Sametra,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
And as sleep began to pull me under, wrapped in the safety of his arms, I knew without a doubt that this was just the beginning of our story. The beginning of letting myself be loved the way I deserved. The beginning of building something with a man who saw my worth even when I forgot it myself.
This was what love was supposed to feel like. And I had no plans on letting it go.