Chapter 17
17
I stood like I hadn’t just been on my knees devouring her, like her taste wasn’t still on my tongue, still thick in my throat. I grabbed a plate, dished up some salmon, and said, “Dinner smells good.”
She blinked at me like I’d lost my damn mind. Still breathless. Still wrecked.
“You are so full of shit,” she muttered.
I shrugged and smirked. “And you love it.” She didn’t deny it.
We ate in silence. But it wasn’t peace.
It was tension. That slow, burning kind. Heavy. Lingering. Like something important had been said without words—and now we were both waiting to see who’d break first.
She hadn’t brought up this morning.
How she dipped without a word, like last night didn’t flip our whole shit upside down.
And I hadn’t asked because part of me was still pissed. And part of me was still afraid.
Afraid this would go exactly how I didn’t want it to go—her running, me chasing, both of us pretending like our friendship was the only thing that mattered.
After we cleaned up, I flopped onto the couch, remote in hand, trying to act normal when nothing about this was.
“Movie?” I asked, even though I already knew what I was putting on because it was our movie. It was the start of some of our best moments.
When Love Jones started playing, she froze.
I felt it. The stillness in her breath. The sharp edge in her posture.
The record store scene hit, and all I could think about was the night before—her in that studio, arms crossed, legs tight, trying to look unbothered while I watched Raj eye her like she was the answer to everything he’d ever needed.
It took everything in me not to show my whole damn ass.
Because she wasn’t his. She was mine .
Had been since we were kids.
And now that I’d had her again—tasted her, fucked her, felt her fall apart around me—I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want every inch of her. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t losing my mind seeing her shine for someone else.
Then the love scene started. She shifted. Sat up straighter.
I turned to look at her, opened my mouth to say something?—
And then she was on me.
Straddling my lap, gripping my shoulders, her mouth crashing into mine like we were both starving and there was nothing left to lose.
I groaned, hands instantly finding her hips, dragging her down against the ache in my shorts. Her lips were wet, frantic, her tongue sliding deep as she rocked on me like she needed it everywhere —my mouth, my chest, my dick.
She was hot and slick between her thighs, no panties again, and I was gone.
My shorts were off in seconds.
Her hand reached between us, guided me to her heat—and then she was sinking down. Slow. Wet. Deep.
I threw my head back with a guttural moan as her pussy gripped me tight, squeezing like it was made for me.
“Fuuuuck, Amaya…”
She didn’t wait. Didn’t give me a chance to breathe.
She moved, and I followed.
Her thighs flexed. Her breath hitched. Her pussy stretched around me, slick and warm and pulsing.
The sound of her riding me was obscene—skin slapping, wetness squelching, her soft moans getting louder with each bounce. The couch creaked beneath us, her tits brushing against my chest as she moved, her mouth crashing into mine again, messy and deep.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped against my lips, her forehead pressed to mine, her nails biting into my shoulders.
“I’m not fucking stopping,” I growled, cupping her ass, helping her ride me harder, faster.
The movie faded. The music kept playing.
And when we came—together, her body gripping me so tight I saw stars, my release pulsing deep inside her—I didn’t let go.
I couldn’t.
Her body trembled against mine, slick and breathless, her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her walls still fluttering around me like they didn’t want to let me go either.
I was still buried inside her. Still rock hard. Still aching.
And I felt her clench again.
“Amaya…” I breathed, forehead pressed to hers. “You’re still… fuck…”
She whimpered, her lips brushing mine. “I know. I can’t stop.”
I slid my hand up her spine, cradling the back of her neck, my thumb brushing her jaw.
“I know you’re scared,” I said softly, my voice hoarse from all the things she just pulled out of me. “But you’re not the only one with something to lose here.”
Her lashes fluttered. She blinked fast, like she was trying to suppress something. But I wasn’t done.
“I wasn’t supposed to do this either,” I said. “Told myself I couldn’t touch you. That it would mess everything up. But you’ve been in my veins for years, Amaya. I laid my heart bare last night. I’d do it again. Even if it kills me.”
She inhaled—sharp. Shaky.
“And today when Taraj walked up on you… looked at you like you were his muse…”
My jaw tensed, the memory still hot in my chest. I wanted to kill that nigga.
“I felt unhinged. Like I could burn it all down. Music, career, everything. Just to make sure he knew?—”
She gasped, her pussy clenching around me, hard.
“—that you’re mine.”
Her whole body shuddered. Her hands fisted my shoulders. Her forehead dropped to mine.
“I didn’t mean to run,” she whispered. “I just… I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve never felt this exposed.”
“I know, baby,” I said, pulling her closer, letting our chests touch. Our sweat slicked between us, sticking skin to skin. “But don’t shut me out. Don’t run from something that feels this real.”
She let out a broken breath. Then another.
And then she kissed me. Soft. Wet. Deep.
Her pussy clenched around me again, slow and full, like her body was giving me her answer before her mouth could catch up.
I groaned, tilting my hips up, still inside her, still aching, still ready.
She rolled her hips, slow and deep. I felt her sigh into my mouth. Felt the way her arms wrapped around my neck like she was anchoring herself to something real.
Something that just might finally be enough.