Zoya #4
“I’m not… you are.”
“Zoya, what the hell?”
I already started walking into the main building to borrow the courtesy cars they gave you to get around the island. Khaos was right behind me as I convinced the lady up front to give me keys.
“I don’t even remember the direction.”
“You make a left at the cow or something,” I replied, climbing into the truck, ready to take this voyage to beat the hell out of my man.
The Jeep slowly pulled around the roundabout and I watched as Gerald, because that was who he was right now, killed the engine and got out. He was so in his head that he didn’t notice us until Khaos beeped the horn.
“Thank God, ‘cause you don’t even fucking know how to get there.”
“Fuck is you going?” He ignored his brother and stared right at me.
“Don’t fucking curse at me!” I raised my voice.
“Wouldn’t have to if you wasn’t doing shit like this.”
“I said don’t fucking curse at me, Gerald!”
“Y’all both cursing at each other,” Khaos muttered.
“Shut up, Khaos!” we both yelled at the same time, and continued our intense stare down.
I climbed out the truck and walked back to my suite, pissed that he had the nerve to have that energy with me. I didn’t do anything to his ass. Why was he being like this to me?
By the time he made it to our suite, I had already removed my clothes and was in my silk slip. I should have been ordering room service and watching the Jamaican news, but I was standing here with my hands on my hips. Usually, I liked to give the silent treatment, but this nigga had beat me to it.
He kicked his slides off and took his shirt off, still not saying a word to me. It was like he refused to acknowledge me or something.
“Let me have done that to you, you would have called me a brat and selfish.”
He removed his watch. “Cause you would have been.”
“How? You didn’t say anything at dinner. Just left and didn’t call or answer your phone. That is fucked up!” I raised my voice.
“Did I not go and take my grandparents’ home? The fuck you wanted me to call on every mile that we passed?”
I backed up, shocked by the tone he was using with me. “I’d be damned if you did all this chasing, convincing me you are a good man to be spoken to like that. You wanted me to meet you half way, and when I’m doing it, you the bitch pulling back?” I snapped.
I paced the room venting and saying everything, and he said nothing.
Instead, he stood there with his hands folded and watched me pace and vent.
I was tossing in shit that happened to me in middle school.
He had me so fucked up that all the men that wronged me and forced me into my villain era had to be part of this lecture.
“And you sitting there looking all silent and stupid,” I mushed him on my third pace past him.
He looked up. “Watch your fucking mouth, Zoya. Second, I’m listening to understand you, not to respond.”
“Well, sorry.” I had never had someone that listened before responding to me. Any time I argued with men in the past, we were both screaming at each other, so the point was never proven.
“It’s alright. Watch that fucking mouth before I put something in it again.”
Why the hell was I turned on? I should have been angry, not ready to leak on this damn floor.
He stood up, and walked over to me, grabbing my face. “I’m sorry. I should have called you and that’s on me. No excuses, that is my fuck up and it won’t happen again. I needed space for a minute to think, and I should have communicated that to you.”
“Thanks.”
He walked out to the lounge chair, and I finally decided to go climb into bed. If he wanted space, I could give that. When I was going through things, I liked my own space, too.
It was hard falling asleep, so I found myself staring at the ceiling again. The sun was now starting to come up, so I climbed out the bed to pee before going to check in on him. He had moved the chair a little away from the room and was relaxed with his arms behind his head.
He looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to do anything to disturb him. His eyes opened and he looked over at me. “I woke you up?”
“Nah. I just learned to listen to everything while sleep. Come lay on me.” He held his arms out for me.
“I wanted to, but I thought we were still fake mad at each other… and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He kissed my neck, as he wrapped his arms around me. “Was never mad at you… and you don’t need permission to love on your man.”
“Can we not do that anymore… I don’t like fighting with you.” I leaned up and stared him in the eyes. “And don’t speak to me that way, Gerald. I’ll slit your throat in your sleep.”
I straddled him, as I waited for him to respond. “I hear you, Boobie.”
Recommendation: Listen to “Romping Shop” by Vybz Kartel ft Spice
He played with the lace on my slip, as he stared at me.
We became lost in each other’s eyes and neither of us needed words for what we both wanted.
I lifted my arms and he pulled my slip over my head and played with my nipples.
I could feel his dick rise underneath me as he bit down on his lips while he pinched my nipples.
I moaned, as he squeezed and his other hand rubbed my pussy. While he rubbed, I was pulling his linen pants down because I wanted to feel him inside of me. My mouth watered, but I couldn’t figure out if it was pregnancy or the fact that he did that to me.
“Get the fuck on this dick, Baby,” he groaned, as he released his dick, lifted me up and put me right onto it.
Still leaned back on the chair, he held my hips and slammed me down onto his dick with force. Biting down on his lips, he continued to control what he wanted. My breast slammed against my chest, as I held onto his chest.
“Umm… fuck….ahhh!” I moaned out, while he continued to slam me down onto him.
He lifted me up and I teased his dick with my opening before he sat me back down on him. “Ride this shit, Boobie.”
I held onto his chest and bounced my ass down on him. I squeezed my muscles while he groaned, gripping my hip each time I came down harder on him. I felt sorry for the chair because we were showing it no mercy.
Neither of us wanted to make love. We both needed to release our frustrations with each other, and fucking did that for us. I held onto his neck and looked him in the eyes, as he stared into mine.
This nigga was in love with me. Despite all that shit he spoke; he was smitten with me. “Fuck me harder, Zoya.”
“Boobie,” I moaned.
“Fuck me harder, now.” I held onto his chest tighter and did exactly what he wanted. He grabbed hold of me, and pulled me up off his dick, and got off the lounge chair.
I replaced him, and he opened my legs and dove right in. with one leg in the air, and the other hand around my neck, he drilled my shit like he was trying to get to the gold on the other side of the wall.