Chapter 10 #2
“Yeah,” he says, then starts walking us to the living room.
His body doesn’t break from mine until we are in front of my sectional.
There, he sits then pulls me down on his lap.
Once I’m seated, I kind of scoot my ass off him and drape my legs across his lap.
One of his arms snakes around me and his other hand rubs my legs. “What you watching?”
“Scandal but I can turn it off.” If you want to talk.
“Nah. We can watch it,” he says and I try to hide my disappointment. I really want to talk about his family and understand this sad ass look on his handsome face.
As if there isn’t a big as pink elephant in the room, we sit and watch two episodes while murdering my bag of popcorn.
He asked a million damn questions, and only because he’s going through it, I answer them all.
Normally, I would curse somebody out, stop my show, and turn to something else.
I like Scandal in peace but I make an exception for him.
Before starting another episode, I ease off him and take the empty bag of popcorn and can into the kitchen.
I toss both in the garbage can then wash my hands.
I grab two bottles of water and paper towels then go back.
When I hand him the waters and try to step over him to sit, he stops me and pulls me back on him.
“I thought you were sick of me all on you.”
“Nah. That’s cap. This is the only place I want you,” he says while rubbing his big hand on my leg. He inches his hand up and his fingers run across the bottom of my romper. “This shit is see-through. You ain’t got nothing on under here.”
“It’s not see-through,” I rebut.
His hand pushes up more under my romper and moves to my inner thigh.
His fingers are millimeters from my pussy.
He turns his head then stares down at me as he moves his hand all around my thigh.
His big, warm hand feels like heaven on my skin and I can’t stop the low moan that escapes my lips. He smirks.
“But do you have anything on under this?” he asks but he already knows the answer. His fingers are now tickling my pussy.
“Riq, stop. We should talk about what happened so you can feel better.”
“Shit. I’m feeling better already.” His fingers run up and down my slit, then one slides into me.
“Riq,” I moan as he thrusts in and out. The feeling is crazy and the way he’s looking at me only intensifies it. I’m no good and my next words hold no damn conviction, at all. “We need to talk not…damn…oh, shit!”
His thumb circling my clit changes the course, purpose, and intent of my words.
While pleasing the hell out of me with his long ass finger, he leans in closer then slowly runs his tongue across my lips.
I try with honestly no effort to speak again, but hell, I don’t want to.
I want whatever this is that he’s doing to me at this very moment.
“How do I get this shit off?” he asks, but before I can say any-fucking-thing, another of his long fingers enters me.
Damn.
The next moments are a beautiful, freaky, nasty in a good ass way blur. Tyriq pleases me in every way, and after three mind blowing orgasms, we collapse onto my sectional. While I spell my name in cursive on his back with my finger, he rests his head on my stomach and my legs latch around him.
“Why do females stay with ain’t shit niggas?” he asks. His words and question seem to come out of nowhere.
“Huh?” I ask, ensuring I heard him right. Clearly, I did because he repeats the same thing. “Probably love,” I answer honestly. “But I’ve never done it. I grew up seeing a man properly loving a woman and I know what I deserve. I couldn’t do but plenty do.”
“Ion understand that shit.”
“Each situation is different, I guess. Who are we talking ’bout?”
“My moms. She sticks with that nigga no matter what and I hate it. She deserves a good nigga who loves her and his fucking kids.”
I contemplate my next words long and hard before I say them because this is his family, his parents, that we are talking about and I don’t know much about them. “Maybe he loves her the best that he can,” I tell him.
“So my moms deserves some bullshit love?” he spits with so much incredulity.
His head raises and he glares at me. I definitely struck a nerve.
My eyes lock with his fiery ones as I continue to caress his back.
As calm as I can be, I say, “That’s not what I was saying.
Not everybody has the same capacity for love or even knows how to love.
I grew up watching two people love each other hard as hell, so I can’t even imagine what you grew up with.
Nor can I imagine why your mom does what she does.
But there’s a way for you to find out why she stays. Just ask her.”
He sighs then leans up and softly kisses my lips. “You make this shit sound so easy,” he says before laying his head back on my stomach.
“Not easy but hopefully mendable. The way you talk about her I can tell y’all are close. Ask her what you asked me then maybe talk to your dad.”
“That nigga hates me; we don’t talk,” he says and my heart hurts for him. No child should never utter those words about a parent. “I guess I should thank him though.”
“Why?”
“Besides showing me how to never be with my wife and kids,” he utters then I feel his body shift before continuing, “If it wasn’t for him degrading me and underestimating me all the fucking time, I wouldn’t be playing in the championship tomorrow.”
“I think your hard work, long hours on the court, dedication, and running offense have a lot to do with that.”
He lifts up then anchors his hands to my sides. While hovering over me, he smiles then comes close to my face. “Running offense? You watch me play?” He smirks.
“Riq, I just know what a point guard does,” I respond with faux annoyance while trying hard not to smile back.
“And you watch my games. Admit that shit.”
“I don’t,” I lie.
“You don’t?” he asks. The smug ass smile on his handsome face reveals that he absolutely knows I’m lying. After nestling his head on the side of my neck, he whispers, “Lie again and I’ll bite you.”
“Bite me?”
“Yeah.”
“Tyriq. You are not going to bite me.”
“On DP, I will. Right here too.” He runs his tongue up my neck to my earlobe. Then his teeth lightly graze it. “Run the answer.” He grazes his teeth again like he’ll really bite so I give in.
“Yeeesssss, sometimes,” I say and he still bites me lightly on my neck. “Tyriq!”
“I couldn’t help it,” he admits, then laughs. “I’m hungry. Shit. You had me putting in work.”
I start to sit up, forcing him to raise up too. “I told you I had food. I can warm it up,” I say then notice the time. It’s late. “Second thought. I can pack it up. Your curfew.”
“Fuck that curfew.”
“I know you don’t mean that at all.”
“Real shit, I do. Coach will be pissed but it’s not like he’s going to bench me. He wants the win. I’m not ready to go to the crib just yet.”
“Tyriq, you sure?”
“Yeah. Warm me up some lasagna, pleeeaaasssee,” he begs like a kid, looking cute.
“Damn, alright. I got you.” I lightly peck his lips then place my hands on his cut chest. “Move please, so I can put my romper on.”
“Nah.” He reaches down and grabs my romper from the floor. “Go just like that so I can watch that ass.” When he gets off the sectional, he extends his hands to me, I accept, and he pulls me up. The moment I’m up, he pulls my naked body into his. Palming my ass, he says, “Damn!”
He releases me and I walk straight to my laundry room. From my pile of folded clothes on the small table, I grab a pair of panties and put them on. When I step out, he frowns.
“No coochie in my kitchen,” I tell him while shaking my head.
“Coochie? The fuck. You got some good ass pussy, not no damn coochie. And that shit was extra gushy. Tee, take them shits off,” he demands.
I simply roll my eyes and take my covered coochie into my kitchen.
After washing my hands, I grab the lasagna from the fridge, fix him some, and place the plate in the microwave.
While it warms, he joins me in the kitchen, still fully naked. “Is dick allowed in here?”
“Only big, pretty ones,” I say and he laughs.
The lightness and playfulness I’m used to in his tone has thankfully returned. I hope it stays and he’s able to actually talk to his mom and talk his shit out with her.
Around two this morning, after much insistence, Tyriq left.
The last thing I wanted to be was the reason he didn’t play and the Lions didn’t win the National Championship.
After I let him out, I took my ass back upstairs, back into my comfortable bed, and slept.
To my surprise though, I slept almost ten hours.
My eyes open around noon because my damn cell would not stop ringing. Annoyed as hell, I roll over and blindly fumble my hands around, feeling for my phone. When I don’t feel it, I grunt, open my eyes, then see the time on my wall clock, eleven forty-eight.
“The hell?” I utter as I ease up. When I do, I spot my phone on my dresser.
Thankfully, it stops ringing so I place my hands on my back, elongate it, and stretch.
“Mmm,” I moan as my stiff body starts to warm.
I’m interrupted when my damn phone starts back ringing.
While shaking my head, I raise my covers, turn to the side, and ease out of bed, and I do mean ease.
I’m achy all over and stiff. I’m used to the aftermath of Tyriq on my body but this isn’t that.
“Fuck, I better not be getting sick,” I groan as I amble to my phone.
I snatch it up; it’s the hospital. “Hello,” I answer reluctantly.
“Hi, Teaira. This is Beatrice Ramo—”
“Hi, Miss Beatrice,” I say, cutting her off. We all know Beatrice Ramos, head nurse in charge of scheduling. When she calls your day off, it’s for one thing and one thing only. “You need me to come in?”
“If you can. We are down three nurses.”