Chapter 11
Wyndi knocked out right after she caught the orgasm she’d been chasing.
I wasn’t surprised that pregnancy kept her tired.
The books said that she was supposed to experience a surge in her energy during the second trimester.
She was sixteen weeks, and it hadn’t happened yet.
Now, she was up and in the bathroom. That was another thing.
Baby Girl had no chill when it came to pressing on her mother’s bladder. Wyndi stayed using the bathroom.
I downloaded an app on my phone that gave me a comparison to an everyday object according to baby girl’s week of gestation. At sixteen weeks, she was supposedly the size of an avocado. How an avocado caused so many trips to the bathroom was beyond me, but it was what it was.
My eyes zeroed in on her stomach. I got up from the bed, met her at the bathroom door, and dropped to my knees in front of her.
“You’re starting to show.” I kissed her stomach lovingly.
When she was flat on her back in the bed, somehow, I hadn’t noticed.
But now, it was obvious that she had a little pooch where there hadn’t been one before.
Her hands dropped down and landed on either side of my face, as I kissed her stomach again and again. “Yeah. I noticed that a few days ago.” She giggled. “Stop, Kaynaan. You’re tickling me.”
I didn’t stop until she dropped down to her knees. “Wyn.” I kissed her lips.
She blushed, looking down at the floor. “Stop.”
“Nope.”
“Kaynaan.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You have a way of making me feel so . . . I don’t know. Desirable? You make me feel like you can’t—”
I cut her off. “Believe you’re real? Shit, sometimes I can’t.
Sometimes, I can’t believe that you let me press all up on you like this.
Especially after how you acted like you weren’t gonna give me a chance.
” I pulled her to me, my semi-hard dick against her.
“That you let me touch you like this.” My fingers found her opening, then her clit, and rubbed it gently.
She moved away from me, turning her back to me, and positioning herself on all fours.
I understood the assignment and appreciated the invitation.
With no fanfare at all, I slid into her from behind.
My place of peace. “Shit,” I hissed as her pussy clenched my dick, holding me prisoner in a pool of warm wetness.
She let her head drop down to the carpet, tooting her ass up at me in the process. “Arch your back, baby.”
She arched her back, and I attacked the pussy like I was holding a grudge against it. She moaned out, which only encouraged me to go deeper but slower, giving her the death strokes that I knew would blow her mind.
“Oh my God, yes.” She crooned as I held her hips and pulled her back on my dick. With each powerful thrust, I autographed my name on her inner walls.
“You too tired to throw it back?” I taunted before leaning over and biting down on her right shoulder, causing her to tremble.
My hands fell from her hips as she threw her ass back at me with speed, fucking me at a pace that she set until I caught up with her, and repositioned her hips in my hands.
“It’s good,” I told her. “Your pussy’s good as a motherfucker.” I could’ve stayed there for the rest of my life, giving and receiving pleasure from Wyndi. I probably loved her, but I wasn’t trying to examine those feelings at the moment.
Her face was buried in the floor rug. I could only make out whimpers as I plowed into her, chasing my orgasm, while she chased hers, too.
In and out. In and out. She found her relief before me, cooing and pressing her ass aggressively back on my pelvis.
I repeatedly pushed inside the depths of her goodness, until my toes started to curl, and the bedroom became a blur in my peripheral vision.
The eruption shot into her without warning, coating her insides, draining me momentarily.
“Shit.” I muttered as my dick continued to jump, making me wonder just how long it would go on.
She collapsed flat on her stomach. I held myself in push-up position to avoid crashing down on top of her. I fell onto the floor beside her. “I’m yours, Brown Eyes.”
“I’m yours, too.”
“Let’s get off this floor, shower, and get something to eat. Okay?” I asked.
“Okay.”
After we showered, she threw on a robe while I threw on a clean pair of boxer briefs. We headed to the kitchen and raided her refrigerator. She didn’t have much.
“Ugh!” She pouted as we decided on waffles, sausage, and eggs. “We should’ve gone to your place. You always have good food to eat. Your chef always makes sure your fridge is stocked.”
“I like coming here.” I cracked three eggs into a bowl and added a splash of milk, seasoning, and some shredded cheese.
“Why?”
I glanced over at her and caught her eye. “Because you’re here. Your style. Your smell. Your . . . essence. Everything I like the most is here.”
She blushed and tucked some unruly strands of hair behind her ear. “Okay,” she muttered.
When the food was ready, we took our plates to her small table. We blessed it, then dug in.
“I got a question for you.”
“What is it?”
“We have a game on Thanksgiving. We’re playing the Leopards in Londynville. I’m kinda hoping you’ll come home with me. Come to the game, come to Thanksgiving dinner. We’re actually having dinner on Wednesday, since my whole family will be at the game on Thursday.”
“My mom—” she began, but I cut her off.
“Your mom is welcome to come. I know y’all are a package deal.”
She gave me a small smile. “Thanks for thinking of and including my mom. That’s why she likes you so much.”
I chuckled.
“But what I was gonna say,” she continued, “is that my mom is hosting Thanksgiving at her house this year. Everybody’s coming over there.”
“So, you need to be there?” I concluded.
“I’m not sure. Let me talk to her.” She sighed heavily. “She invited my ex, the one I was gonna marry, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to see him. I haven’t seen him in, like, four years. And the last time we spoke, . . . it wasn’t good.”
“Wasn’t good how?”
“Remember I told you that he developed some mental health issues?”
I nodded.
“Well, I tried to stay with him at first and support him. I mean, he was my best friend and my man. I didn’t want him to feel like I would drop him just because things got dicey.
But he was so angry at the world. He was angry at his brain, angry at his mind, his body.
Channing is brilliant. He was always academically successful.
Only person in our entire high school to get a perfect score on the national standardized test. He had scholarship offers and acceptances from every university you could think of.
His brain power was everything to him. For him to be told that something was going on with his mental?
With his brain? He couldn’t accept that.
He got pissed. I was his woman. We lived together. Guess who he took that anger out on.”
I sat up straighter in my chair. I was about to have to fuck up somebody with mental health challenges. The shit sounded wrong, but I didn’t give a damn. “He put his hands on you?”
“Not his hands. His words. Verbal abuse. Mental abuse. Emotional abuse. I was his punching bag. I was dying on the inside, but I didn’t want to tell anybody.
It was Channing. I loved him. I wanted to protect him and protect myself from him at the same time.
But that was like, I don’t know, an oxymoron. I couldn’t have it both ways.
“The last time I saw him, he’d had an episode at work.
He exploded on one of his co-workers. He checked himself into the hospital.
They admitted him on the psych floor, and he didn’t want to be there.
He begged me to try to get him released.
For the first time, I admitted that I couldn’t handle his illness.
I called his mother. He was pissed. He cursed me out.
Berated me. Made me feel small. When she made the decision to move him back home, I breathed for the first time since the ordeal started. ”
“Damn, baby. And you were how old going through this?”
“Twenty-five. Twenty-six.” She inhaled and exhaled.
“I’m getting worked up just thinking about it.
” She fluttered her hands and took a few more breaths.
“Everything went bad so quick. I mean, one minute we were the love of each other’s lives, and the next, we were .
. . nothing to each other. We’ve never spoken since that day.
We’ve never seen each other since that day.
My mother said he has a new lady. She’ll be at Thanksgiving with him. ”
“Does that bother you?”
Her eyes flew up from her plate and found mine. “Hell no. When my mother told me he had a lady friend, the very first thought that popped into my mind was, he’s her problem now.”
“Okay.”
She took one last deep breath. “Going to the game with you might be exactly the excuse I need not to have to be in the same room as Channing. Let me think about it.”