Chapter 4
Ignore
“I’m stingy, Nickoi,” I whisper, rising on my toes, my fingers fisting the front of his shirt. “I don’t like sleeping without you… okay? Don’t make that happen again.”
Goosebumps bloom across my skin. He’s looking down at me with that unreadable intensity, the one that always snatches the air from my chest. Then he bites my bottom lip, slow, his eyes, the darkest brown, piercing mine, my back presses against the staircase wall.
“Yuh know sometimes mi affi handle things,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, tinged with danger. “Nobody violate yuh and live. Mi did affi tek him points fi dat Mami.”
I don’t know why that got me pulsing so hard. The gun jutting out of his pants. Ughhh. His hand wraps around my waist, pulling me into his chest like I’m made of something fragile. I feel so small in his arms, like I fit perfectly nowhere else but right here.
He lifts me effortlessly. I squeal, startled, excited, my legs wrapping instinctively around him as he climbs the stairs.
His strength does something to me. So does the way he moves with purpose.
He’s so focused. Eager for me. He kicks the door open and tosses me gently onto the middle of the bed like he’s hungry… for me.
Cool air from the AC brushes my thighs, but I’m still warm.
My panties are already gone. Wait.. I don’t even remember when it came off.
I’m too caught in the way he looks at me like I’m a sacred piece in an art museum.
He stands at the foot of the bed, eyes raking over my body.
Then, without a word, he leans in, pressing slow kisses against my lips, letting me suck on his bottom one before trailing to my cheek… my jaw… then lower.
His face sinks into my neck. He kisses the sensitive skin there like it’s something he’s missed. My breath hitches. I turn my head, exposing more of my throat. My body betrays me, arching into him.
Girlll stop act so damn eager. I know you are. But fight it likkle bit…
We look too thirsty!
He smells like man… and musk and something sweet I can’t name.
I pull his tee up, desperate to feel skin. His lips never leave my neck. My thighs lock behind him. And when I feel him slide in, so deep, so thick, I lose all composure. I gasp, my head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.
He moves. Slowly. Then he speeds up.
My hand finds his braids. My moans spill into the air like prayers. “Jesusss…”
“Yah call him fa?” he teases, rolling his hips with cruel precision. “This… right here…” he slows down so much it drives me crazy. “Is… all… me.”
A cry bursts out of me. I arch up to meet him. He’s relentless. And gentle. And rough. And tender. All at once. He worships my body like it was molded for him. Every thrust is purposeful, like a confession, a promise, a claim.
“Wah yah bawl fa?” he groans, holding me tighter. I feel the weight of him, the ache, the way he hits my deepest spot over and over. “Yuh a run from me? Run go weh?”
I can’t answer. My mind is gone. I’m squirming beneath him, my face twisting each time he slams into me. It’s pleasure. Raw and endless.
“Answer me,” he growls, breath hot against my mouth. His face inches from mine, eyes locked.
I hold his face, my fingers brushing his jaw. My tears wet his cheeks as I moan his name. “N-nickoi… I… I…” I try. “Mmm.”
“Mi waan inside you… this deep… every day, mami. Or every other day. Yuh yer?”
My eyes snap open, dazed. “Nickoi… wah yuh mean?”
“Yuh hear mi?”
“Every night?” I ask between ragged breaths, a laugh caught in my throat.
“Or every other day.”
“That’s… better.” I grip his shoulders, digging my nails into the muscles there.
“Mi normally hate missionary,” he admits, staring down at me. “But yuh… yuh change that.”
“W-Why?” I whisper. It barely comes out.
He bites his lip. Rolls his hips just right. And my whole body seizes. Stars, sparks, everything bursting behind my eyes. My orgasm hits like a wave, crashing through me in trembling pulses.
He knows. So he doesn’t stop. He chases it. Makes it deeper.
“Nickoi…” I whisper again. And again. My walls clench, my body shaking.
Then he pulls out. The loss is sudden, jarring but before I can even breathe, I’m squirting. My eyes squeeze shut, legs shaking.
“Nickoi—” I grab for him.
“Mi deh yah, mami.” He kisses my forehead, holding me tight as I ride the last of my high. Then I feel it. The warm, heavy rush inside me. His release. His veins, pumping against my walls. The rhythm. His relief.
He groans. It’s so low and sexy. His eyes meet mine. Like a dark, wild, glare. I know him too well. Behind that, I saw it. He’s in love.
I place my hand over my lips.“Why you a look at me like dat?” I whisper, my cheeks warm, lips trembling.
He brushes a damp curl off my face. “Dis… dis a why mi like missionary wid yuh,” he says softly. “Mi get fi look inna yuh pretty eyes… and watch how yuh fall apart for me.”
I just smile. Melted. Completely his.
I felt seen. Wanted. Loved. In the way only he could love me.
***
Nickoi lies beside me, one arm draped over my waist as I scroll through Instagram. His body’s heat clings to me like the sheets, and I’m trying not to notice how good he smells even after all that work he put in. He shifts slightly, eyes fluttering open before locking on to me, heavy, smoldering.
Then he smirks. Without warning, he reaches over and locks off my phone.
“Nickoi,” I whine, turning it back on.
His eyes don’t move. His stare is magnetic, like he’s peeling the distractions off me one layer at a time.
“A me yuh fi a look pon,” he says, voice low and teasing. The way he says it sends a slow heat crawling under my skin.
I roll my eyes, trying not to let my blush show. “Mi tired a see yuh.”
He doesn’t answer. Just smiles, slow, knowing, the kind of smile that knows it owns a part of you. I glance back at my phone to distract myself, but my smile betrays me.
“Yuh seh yuh tired a see mi,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly, “but yuh neva tired fi moan mi name…” He clears his throat dramatically. “I mean… call mi name.”
I gasp, shoving him playfully, but my cheeks are hot. My legs press together under the sheet without meaning to.
“I hate you, Nickoi,” I laugh, my voice breathy and too soft to be convincing.
He climbs out of the bed slowly, the sheets tugging with him, revealing the curve of his back and the way his muscles stretch when he pulls his shorts on. His body was carved for sin.
“Wah time b?” he asks, turning back toward me, shirt in his hand, abs flexing as he speaks.
“Nine,” I manage, throat dry.
“Yuh eat breakfast?”
I nod, eyes dropping to his hands. So big.
Long time she eat Nickoi
“Wah yuh eat?” he asks, sitting back down on the bed, close enough to feel the shift in the mattress, far enough to tease.
“Plantains,” I reply, wrapping the sheet tighter over my chest when his eyes linger.
“You want sup’m else?”
I bite my lip. “Yeah… plantains again.”
He cocks his head, eyes narrowing slightly, that smirk back on his lips like he’s reading my body, not my words.
“Yah crave it?”
My breath hitches at the way he says it. Low. Thick. Intentional.
I nod. His fingers drag along the edge of the sheet, slow and deliberate, and my breath stumbles in my throat. The look in his eyes? He already knows he’s the reason my thighs won’t stay still.
“Yes,” I answer, settling into the warmth of his attention.
“That alone nuh enough enuh, mami,” Nickoi says, his voice gentle but firm.
“I know…” I glance away, “but that’s what I want.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just sighs, deep and quiet and gets up from the bed. I watch him go, his presence still lingering even after he disappears through the door. I fried eggs this morning, but the moment they hit the plate, I lost my appetite. That’s why I just had plantains. My comfort food.
And look how much I love eggs, too.
I scroll through reels, letting the random clips numb my thoughts. After a while, the screen feels like noise. I slide off the bed and pull on a robe, loosely tying the string around my waist. Just as I tighten the knot, Nickoi walks back in. With a plate in his hand.
“Awww,” I smile instinctively, a flutter blooming in my chest.
He hands it to me and I kiss his lips. “Thanks, babe.”
Plantains. Frozen grapes. He paid attention. Whew. Chro mon.
My chest warms. I sit and eat in slow gratitude. His phone rings. He answers and walks off. When I’m done, I pick up my plate and walk into the living room. That’s when I hear the sound of water running from the kitchen.
My brows pinch. I follow the sound and pause in the doorway.
A dark-skinned woman, maybe in her thirties, is at the counter, spraying Lysol and wiping down the surface with practiced care. The scent of disinfectant fills the air.
She turns to me with a soft, polite smile. “Hi, Zara,” she says like she’s said it a dozen times before.
I blink. She knows my name?
“Just put the plate down, I’ll wash it,” she says sweetly, her hand already reaching for the sink.
“Good morning,” I offer, still surprised. “And… thank you.”
She nods with a reassuring smile and keeps cleaning. My brain scrambles to catch up. She’s a helper. Like… a real helper.
Why Nickoi have a helper?
Yuh nuh pregnant? Cho him nuh wah you a do too much, my subconscious spats.
A who and har?
“I’m not new, enuh,” she says while wiping the counter. “Mi come whenever him call. And him always pay me, even when mi nuh come. So mi try mi best fi always show up for him.”
“Ohh,” I nod, taking it all in. That sounds like Nickoi. Always taking care of people without saying a word.
“You usually clean?”
“Yes. But him say yuh pregnant now and him want mi come early morning fi help out… so when mi done, mi just leave.”
That makes my chest feel warm. “Okay. Thank you,” I say softly, offering her a small smile. I stretch out my hand. “I didn’t catch your name?”
“Lizzie,” she says, shaking it gently.
“Nice meeting you, Lizzie.” I nod before heading down the hall.