16. Denise
Chapter sixteen
Denise
I consider myself a feminist. A strong, independent, Black woman who takes no shit and prides herself on disrupting misogynistic narratives built by the patriarchy. I do what I want, when I want, and drop anyone who thinks they can tell me otherwise. But… Holy fuck! Cory just told me what to do and I have never been wetter in my entire life.
He raises an eyebrow when I continue to stare at him, and I scramble out of my pants and onto the bed as instructed. Once I'm in position, I arch my back, baring myself to him without shame. A fire ignites in his eyes and he curses fiercely.
"Jesus, Denise. Are you trying to make me cum before I'm even inside you?"
I arch even further and throw a smirk over my shoulder.
"It's only fair, considering you just made me cum from nipple play alone. That's never happened before."
Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have admitted that. He's arrogant enough as it is.
I watch him stalk towards me, shucking his pants and boxers down his powerful thighs and then kicking them off. God, his cock is a thing of beauty. Not just long, but thick too, curving up slightly and already weeping with precum. He stands behind my hips and smacks my ass, sending a fresh coating of wetness down my legs.
"I'm happy to be the first to give your luscious tits the royal treatment they deserve," he growls.
He curls over my body to palm my breasts. They're swollen with arousal and still tender from his kisses. The rumble in his chest as he groans sends chills along my spine.
"In fact, any time you want a repeat, just let me know. Day or night, I'll drop everything to worship these beauties."
He releases the heavy globes and skims his hands along my ribcage, settling them on the flare of my hips. I feel the damp kiss of his cock on the back of my thighs and brace for his entry.
"Wait!" I gasp, quickly jerking my ass away. I nod at his dick. "Aren't you going to wrap that bad boy up, buddy?"
He curses, then fumbles for his wallet, pulling out the foil wrapper. I can't believe I almost forgot. I never forget protection.
"Safety first," he says once he's sheathed in latex. I give him a shaky smile, still rattled by my carelessness.
He lines the head of his cock up with my opening, then slowly, with agonizing patience, pushes himself into me. My tight channel grips him as he pushes deeper, and he reaches around my hip to press a thumb to my clit.
"Let me in, baby. I won't last if you keep choking the life out of my dick."
I giggle, and he moans as the laugh makes me constrict around him. He rubs harder against my clit, and a new flood of moisture helps me accept him.
"There you go, baby. Oh my God. You feel so incredible."
He pulls out of me at the same infuriatingly slow pace he entered, his girth creating delicious friction inside my walls. When only the head of his cock remains, he thrusts forward forcefully, bottoming out and sending a piercing cry from my lips.
"Oh God. Ummm, Cory. Damn, baby. Your dick feels soooo…Unh…So good. Sooooo fucking good."
I'm muttering nonsense into the sheets, my ass in the air as he presses into me with deep, slow strokes. Already my orgasm is shimmering just beneath the surface, and my legs begin to quiver.
"That's it. Give it to me. Give it to me!" he demands.
My orgasm hits like fireworks, exploding from within my core and sending chills all the way to my toes. Even my scalp has goosebumps. He pounds furiously into me as I come down, savagely chasing his own release. I push back to meet each thrust, reveling in his unhinged moaning.
When his hips stutter and he loses his rhythm, it triggers another release, and I milk every last bit of cum from him as my own climax consumes me.
"Fuuuuuuuck!" he shouts before falling onto the bed beside me.
Dim light from the surrounding buildings casts a glow onto our naked, sweat-soaked bodies. Neither of us says anything as we recover, both of us still breathing hard from exertion. As my eyelids grow heavy, I feel him move closer, pressing himself against my back. And then darkness.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Cory says, way too perky for any sane person. I lift my wrist to peek at my watch: 6:48am.
"6:48am is not the morning. 6:48am is the middle of the night. Why on Earth would I need to be up at this time on a Sunday?"
Cory laughs lightly at my grumbling, as if I'm joking. I never joke about sleep and I always sleep in on Sundays. Finally catching on that my foul mood is genuine, he purses his lips and brings a mug of coffee under my nose. I sit up instantly.
"Oh, bless you!"
Cory laughs again and sits next to me on the bed. Now that caffeine is pumping through my bloodstream, I notice he's fully dressed and I'm still nude under the covers. I pull the sheets more tightly against myself, feeling suddenly bashful.
"So you didn't answer me," I mutter, sipping my coffee as he watches me. "Why are you up now and," I pinch the fabric of his shirt, "fully dressed?"
"We both conked out hard last night." Color rises from under his collar and I stifle a giggle. I guess I'm not the only one feeling nervous this morning.
"I know you're not a big morning after person. Neither am I, by the way," he rushes to add. "I just…I don't know. I felt weird sneaking out."
My heart goes soft at his honest admission. Normally, I'd call it a win if my gentleman caller left without me even having to get out of bed, but I was pleasantly surprised to see his face this morning. Not just surprised. Relieved that he hadn't left.
I set my mug on the bedside table and rest my hand on his leg.
"Thank you for staying. That was…sweet." Cory winces at the word and I rear back. "What's wrong with 'sweet'?"
Cory rolls his eyes and sighs.
"'Sweet' is practically 'nice'. And no woman wants to fuck a nice man."
I push his shoulder.
"That is completely ridiculous and narrow-minded. Plenty of women want nice men."
"Sure they do," Cory snorts. "Right up until the clothes come off. It's a scientific fact that nice guys have no stroke game."
I laugh out loud at that.
"Well, then you definitely aren't nice." I take another sip of coffee.
But he might not be the douchebag everyone thinks he is , I muse. He volunteers, he helps his family, and now he's going out of his way to fix things with his new sister-in-law. Even right now, staying rather than sneaking out is not something a douchebag would do.
"Does that mean we get to keep hanging out?" he asks. There's both uncertainty and hope in his eyes.
I worry my lip between my teeth while weighing the pros and cons.
Pro: He's hot as sin. The long hair is really doing it for me and the six-pack abs don't hurt.
Con: He may not be a douchebag, but he's got some problematic opinions, including that nice guys aren't fuckable.
Pro: He fucks like a god. I can still feel him between my legs.
Con: He's a total fuckboy. One of the worst I've ever seen. He hurt that Bethany woman. And he hurt my best friend.
Pro: He knows he fucked up. He's trying to make things right and helping the community at the same time.
I nod my head, my decision made.
"Yes, we can keep hanging out." I try (and fail) not to laugh at the cute happy dance he does beside me. "But! I still think we should keep it on the low. We're just having fun, keeping things light. There's no need to tell the whole world, especially when I can think of at least one person who might be pissed."
I don't miss the slight slump of his shoulders, but his smile remains intact.
"That works for me," he says brightly. He kisses my cheek and stands. "Listen, D. I need to head back to my place and get cleaned up, go for my run, meal prep. You know, Sunday shit. Text me when you want to hang and next time, don't wait a week."
He winks and starts for the door.
"You could also text me," I call after him. He just smiles as he leaves my room.
I fall back onto my pillows, certain I've got a goofy grin on my face. I most definitely will not be waiting a week.