Chapter 9 #2
“Go ahead, my baby. Let me see.”
With my permission, Royce dipped her fingers into her slit.
Fuck.
She brought them both out, slowly. Her nectar dripped from her fingertips onto her clit. She lowered her middle and index fingers, touching herself again. She rolled them counter clockwise, applying the slightest pressure.
I wasn’t sure when my belt was undone or when the hole of my briefs expanded. Neither did I know when my hard dick got in my hands.
I leaned forward, returning to Royce’s sloppiness. I inserted my fingers, opting for natural lubrication. She had so much of it. Too much of it.
I twirled her pussy’s saliva around the head of my dick. My eyes never left her. She was too demanding. She commanded my attention. All of it. All of me. All-consuming, my baby was.
My hand fit around my dick like a glove. The first stroke was jolting. My stomach imploded.
Fuck.
My lids were desperate to touch. However, the thought of missing a second of Royce’s self-pleasuring was torturous. Bliss was upon me.
She circled her sensitive nub. Her hips rolled, meeting her fingers when they roamed too far.
“Uhhhhh.”
Those dark, doughty eyes of hers were no longer facing the ceiling. Still at the edge of the counter, she rested her weight on her left elbow.
“Mmmmmm.”
That pretty pussy and pretty face were mere inches away from each other in my narrowed vision. Between her thighs were a set of top and bottom lips. The lines of reality began to blur as one disappeared into her mouth.
Lapsed judgment and an attempt to keep my semen in my sack led me to the darkness behind my eyelids.
Fuck. Fuck.
I stroked my dick ever so gently. Yet, I grew closer to my ending with each movement of my hand, each movement of her.
“Open your eyes, Ishmael.”
Royce’s demand twisted my nose, mouth, and eyebrows.
I can’t. I admitted inwardly.
“Ishmael.”
Hearing my name fall from her lips pulled my skin apart. There she was. In all her glory. Fingers dripping with her nature as she pulled them from her pussy.
Royce leaned forward, closing the gap between us.
“It’s yours,” she claimed, coating my lips with her cream.
Greedily, I cleaned them with my tongue. Unable to contain my thirst, I parted her legs wider and buried my face between them.
So fucking good.
“Yessssssss.”
Royce’s spine curled as she took my head into her hand. Her rotating hips were gracious with their servings, feeding me pussy with each twirl.
I pulled her clit into my mouth. My tongue flickered across it rapidly. With each flick of my tongue, Royce’s body curved a centimeter more. Her grip on my head tightened.
“Mmmmmmmm. Ish— Uhhhh.”
I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for her climax. Abruptly, I disengaged. Royce’s chest swelled with anticipation.
“Continue.”
The silent, extremely complicated power dynamic between us was exposed with each decision we made. Every moment of submission was a precursor for the dominance she was inherent in. It was in her blood. It was in her build.
She was struggling to keep it at bay. It was satisfying experiencing her struggles while I had every intention to nail her ungodly ass to the cross every fucking day my dick stood and her pussy welcomed it.
For now, I’d allow the quiet battle. Because, undoubtedly, the war was already won. I simply wasn’t prepared to be the bearer of bad news. Not while her pussy was this wet and my dick was this fucking hard.
“Ish–”
“Play with that pussy, my baby. Show me how well you take care of my shit.”
Edging Royce had become the highlight of my evening.
And to think, I believed shooting a nigga would be.
I traveled to Clarke with a full clip, hoping to be missing one upon my return. But, the nigga sitting across from Royce was as pussy as the one I was enjoying the kneading of.
“That’s it,” I coaxed, taking my dick into my hand again. “That’s it.”
I tilted my head, sure to get every angle of her meatiness. Royce was unbelievable. I wanted all parts of her. The good. Bad. Pretty. Ugly. Problematic. Hard-headed. Emotional. Toxic. Tamed. Untamed. Disciplined. Determined. Sassy. Sad. Sweet. Salty. All of her. No discounts.
“Uhhhh. Fuuuuuuck.”
Royce’s rhythm was steady, unchanging. She was aiming for her mountain’s top. Her climax was within reach. I wanted to tear her down, breaking her concentration. However, my limbs were unreachable.
“I’m gonna— oooohhhh, Ishmael.”
The way she said my name like that. So softly. So deeply. So surely. So pleasantly.
“Mmmmm. Uhh. Fuc– Uh.”
I lost my way again. Darkness surrounded me. Warmth consoled me. Royce’s hands found me. So did her voice.
“Open your eyes, Ishmael.”
Her request was granted, but not without cost. She was no longer on the counter. She was on me. One foot in the chair to my right. One foot in the chair to my left. Her pussy hovered over the head of my dick.
“Look at me.”
I didn’t have any other choice. All I could do was look at her.
So pretty. So perfect.
She lowered her contracting pussy onto my treetop, disregarding my tightened fist. I released my shaft, allowing her the freedom to slide down until her ass touched my thighs.
I released a shaky breath. Heaven and earth joined beyond the seams. Part of my world intertwined with hers.
Simultaneously, the glasshouse I’d built around my heart shattered. Shards of glass promised to draw blood should I dare try piecing it back together. I didn’t want to. I wanted whatever the terrain presented. Whatever Royce brought my way.
Plush walls engulfed my hardness. Contractions protested for the extraction of my semen. And, I wanted out. But, just as much, I wanted in.
Forever.
This moment never had to fade. As we were, we could remain.
Nothing mattered right here. With her. In her.
“Ishmael,” she moaned, placing both hands on my shoulders.
Stabilization would be the death of this moment. I despised and desired it simultaneously. Royce’s lips pressed against mine as her body lifted.
“Fuck, my baby,” I grunted, feeling her gushiness as she slid up my shit.
My eyes closed, involuntarily. Royce was far from reasonable. Her voice. Her pussy. Her presence. Her body. Her. Keeping my composure was impractical.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
I nodded.
She slid down my shaft. Everything tightened. My heart rate quickened.
Oh Royce. You do not play well, my baby.
A hand released my shoulder. It gripped my chin, lifting my face.
Up.
“Look at me.”
I did as I was told. The shift was upon us. Royce was empowered. I could do absolutely nothing. If I did, I’d bust all in her shit.
She peered down at me. Her sinful gaze was a forewarning. I didn’t have much time to prepare for the extraction of my soul. But, it hardly mattered if I had. Royce would take it anyway. Even if it wasn’t already hers to have.
Down.
There was so much in those irises. They said so much without Royce saying a word. They were full of so many things.
Greed.
Need.
Pleasure.
Pain.
Confusion.
Fear.
Fearlessness.
Understanding.
Sadness.
Pride.
Selfishness.
Selflessness.
Openness.
Vulnerability.
Submission.
Power.
She was my pretty contradiction.
“Tell me I feel good.”
The validation she sought wasn’t a requirement of hers. Yet, it was paramount. She knew she felt like everything I needed. Still, my words were necessary to add cushion to the fall she was taking for me.
For us.
Royce was self-indulgent. And because she spent her days handling everything for everyone else, it was imperative I was as permissive as her heart needed me to be in order for her to understand that it was my job to handle her.
And all of her things.
And all of her needs.
And all of her desires.
And all of her fears.
And all of her troubles.
And all of her tears.
And all of her good.
And all of her bad.
“Tell me,” she begged, vulnerability peaking.
Up.
“You feel like a fuck– a fucking dream, my baby.”
The exchange was swift. Her submission consumed her. I pulled her tongue into my mouth. I was no longer privy to her orbs. Dark, flawless skin lowered on top of them.
Down.
I lifted my hands, placing them on both sides of her face to make sure she understood every word I was preparing in my head.
Up.
“You feel like everything a nigga needs, Royce.”
Down.
“Everything a nigga wants.”
Up.
“I’m completely and utterly obsessed with your presence in my life.”
Down.
“I want you here.”
Up.
“Fucking me like this.”
Down.
“Touching me like this.”
Up.
“Riding this dick.”
Down.
“Just like this, my baby.”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
The suppressed moan was released.
“Whenever you want it. Whenever you need it.”
Up.
I lowered my hands. One to her neck. The other to her waste. My lips abandoned hers, sliding toward her ear.
“Because it’s yours, Royce.”
Down.
“I’m yours.”
Up.
“All yours.”
Down.
“Same as you are mine.”
Up.
“Don’t make me have to prove it.”
Down.
“I’ll keep the funeral homes in business doing so.”
Up.
Down.
“Understood?”
Up.
“Understood?”
I released her neck. My free hand fell down to her waist. With her in between my fingers, I lifted upward, meeting her where she was.
“Uhhhhhhh. Fuck.”
Up.
Down.
I stroked her from beneath. Her breasts bounced. Her hands pulled her hair up on her hand. Those pretty eyes never exposed themselves. But those teeth did. That tongue did. Just before she folded her lips into her mouth, attempting to accept the painful pleasure of our connection.
“Understood, my baby?”
“Yesssssssssss.”
Up.
Down.
“Yessss.”
Smack.
Smack.
Our skin collided. The well oiled machine was slippery to the touch. Her insides were spilling out onto my thighs. Her pussy was talking, saying all the things I wanted to hear.
“Yes, who?”
“Ishmaaaaael.”
“That’s it.”
In.
Out.
I extracted my dick before plunging back into her. Full force.
Royce was a rider. She didn’t try escaping the brutality of her walls. She snaked her arms around my neck and dug her fingers into the back of my arms.
“Oooooooohhhh yesss. Yes. Yesssss.”
In.
Out.