Chapter 20 #2
“No,” I grunt. “So stop telling me that.”
He snorts, letting out a low chuckle. “And you wonder why I’m scared of your lil’ hardheaded ass?”
I bask in the hard way his fingers push into my side while he pulls me back onto my knees, where I wait for the inevitable.
I might be even higher now because I swear I can hear every breath he takes behind me.
If I had known that good weed made me fly, I wouldn’t have waited so long to try it again, and if I knew that a man like Rich could make me feel everything I’ve never felt I would’ve been searching for him all along.
“Ri—” I whine.
He pushes his tongue between my folds until I choke and now I think I know why AJ would never let me have this.
It’s too damn good. It’s like Rich is planting little ecstasy bombs along each part of my pussy—between the folds, along the lips, and right over my clit.
He flicks his tongue against it in a slow back-and-forth motion that makes me push against his face until his nose ends up in that forbidden place where his tongue had been.
“Rich!” I yelp.
He moans back incoherently while I try to dig my broken fingernails into his granite countertop.
Oral with Rich isn’t anything like the fantasies my mind conjured up when AJ’s lips lingered below my stomach during sex.
How is it possible that reality is so much better?
How is it possible that I’ve gone my whole life without this man?
How is it possible that I let AJ between my legs before I let Rich?
How could I have been so stupid?
I choke out an agonizing whimper. “Rich?”
“What’s wrong?” he gasps.
“I hate him,” I blubber out between moans.
“Who?”
“I hate AJ!”
“Okay, baby,” he coos, kneading my ass and pulling me closer to his mouth. “It’s okay.”
“I hate him so much. You don’t even understand…”
“Make me understand then.”
He stabs his tongue so deep inside of me that my eyes roll back and I fumble against the island in a wet, sweaty heap.
He doesn’t let me stay there for long before he stealthily replaces his tongue with one of those long, rough fingers I’ve been obsessing over.
He pushes it so deep inside me that I fall forward until he slaps my ass again.
“Get up and talk to me—make me understand,” he grunts, stabbing it in and out of me in a slow, grueling motion that makes me forget all those little finger jobs AJ gave me before we finally had sex.
Rich works his finger in a dizzying rhythm. He only pauses long enough to plant his moist lips back between my legs and suckle on my clit, and I feel the pressure in my stomach first. It creeps along my belly and sends me crawling away from his lips and finger.
“Where you going? We supposed to be talking like friends do.” He yanks me back by my ankle, laughing. “I thought you was my friend?”
His syrupy sweet voice makes my arms give out and I fall against the island. “I am…”
He drags me back with ease, letting the cold granite soothe my hot nipples as he sticks his long finger back inside me.
“Rich!” I cry. “Wait…wait…”
“You running away from me?”
I nod like an idiot.
“Nahhh…not you. Not my Slim,” he mutters in jest, shoving another finger inside me. “Not my baby that tried to stab me with a fork. You too tough to be running away from me.”
Somewhere between his cooing, laughing and my loud moans, he wriggles a third finger inside of me, “For running.”
He leans over me, breathing into my ear and kissing the lobe. “Make me understand why that nigga got you running from me.”
“Because I can feel it and…and…and he never—”
“He never did what?”
I moan back.
“Tell me what he didn’t do.”
“He…he…he never did—”
“This?”
His mouth disappears from my ear and his tongue clashes against my clit without warning while his fingers crawl deeper inside of me, making that pressure spread throughout the rest of my body.
“Show me what he never did,” he murmurs between deep sucks.
I don’t know if it’s his fingers that are knuckle-deep inside of me, the tip of his tongue that dances along my clit or his voice, but the pressure rises to the tiptop of my body and finally explodes out of me.
“Rich!” I whine as the aftermath trickles onto his pretty granite countertop.
He pulls his lips from me with a loud pop. “Is that what he never did? He never made you cum?”
“Yes!” I gasp, blinking down at my trembling hands. “Yes…”
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, tonguing the wet streaks on my legs. “This why you ran over here in the rain to get to my stupid ass?”
“Yes! God…yes.”
He twists his fingers inside me in a slow, grueling motion.
I pull my body forward. “I…I can’t take anymore.”
He presses his forearm into my lower back, holding me in place and cooing out a soft, “Yeah, you can, baby.”
I moan in response and swipe away a trickle of drool because I’m still high—so high that I try to hold on to every “baby” and nasty proclamation he uttered, just like I did with those calluses and scars on his hands. Now I have another part of him to savor when I’m alone.
“You should hate every man, you know that right?” he murmurs, planting another wild kiss on my throbbing pussy.
“Huh?”
“You told me you hate AJ.”
“Because I…I do.” I blink swiping a tear from my cheek.
Somehow, between the moans, the orgasm and sweet nothings, I forgot all about my confession.
“You should hate every man—” he repeats himself.
“Except you,” I blurt, reaching back for him.
He dodges my heavy hand until it falls against the island. “Even me too. I ain’t no good either.”
“I don’t care. I’ll never hate you.”
He pulls his fingers out of me, and I whimper in response.
“Turn around and look at me.”
I try to twist my body, but he grabs me by the waist, turning me over himself.
He wrinkles his brows. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said ‘I’ll never hate you.’”
I don’t tell him the “why” because I don’t know how. I don’t know how to explain this one emotion that floated around in the clusterfuck in my belly. It was both light and dark, and it tried to break free any time I laid eyes on him.
His Adam’s apple bounces as he gulps and I reach out to touch it too, but he swats my hand away.
There’s more questions dancing in his head and tickling the seam of his lips. I see them every time his eyes flutter up and catch mine.
“Ask,” I whisper. “I want to hear whatever you have to ask me.”
I want every single question this time, no matter how blunt.
“Ask me.”
He swipes his tongue across his wet lips, folding them under his teeth.
“Are you my friend?” he asks in a slow cadence. “Or Terrica’s?”
“Yours…” I breathe, waiting for him to nod in satisfaction.
He doesn’t, though.
He keeps his eyes on mine then lets out a low hum that makes me shuffle closer to him with my legs splayed open.
He glances down and smirks.
My first design of sophomore year sits underneath my breasts in a wrinkled ball, my torn panties and bra dangle off the edge of the island, and our dinner is cold now but it doesn’t matter because me and Rich Lovelace are friends—best friends.
“And Kenny?”
“What…what about him?” I ask.
“Will he protect you…or me?”
In some silly, trifling way, I get it.
That initial wistfulness I thought I heard in his voice when he first talked about Uncle Kenny to me was a farce because I think he felt that “biological thing” between me and Uncle Kenny as soon as he laid eyes on me. He just won’t say it.
“You. You’ll protect me.” I reach forward to grip his face, but he curls his fingers around my throat, pushing me back and nodding.
“Lay down…” He squeezes my throat in a way that makes me relax against his fingers and lie back while he pushes his face back between my legs.
Now I can finally see the way he devours me.
He pulls his hand from my throat, dragging it down my stomach and spreading my lips. He studies my engorged clit while I let out spastic breaths. I clamber to reach for him again, but he nudges my hand away.
“Nuh-uh. You know better.”
I do, but I’ll do anything just to run a finger along one of his hard abs and that ugly gash in his stomach because I let him into places he wasn’t supposed to go, I promised him the one spot I told Terrica I wouldn’t promise to anybody else, and I assured him he’s the only man I’ll call when I’m in trouble. I deserve to touch him.
I watch through hooded eyes as his tongue traces lazy circles around my swollen, sensitive lips.
Up and down.
Round and round.
My horrible Rene Caovilla dupes dangle in the air, and his eyes stroke them every so often like he can’t believe I’m wearing them in his kitchen.
I belt out a loud moan, shoving my hand between my legs to catch some of the feather-light strokes from his tongue. He slurps a finger into his mouth, sucks it and then spits it out before delivering another hard slap to the side of my ass.
“Stop,” he grunts.
I snort out a low laugh that intermingles with a moan while moving my hand to his head where I scrape my nails down the side of his face because it’s the only way I can fight back.
He smiles while French kissing my pussy as if he’s showing me how silly I am to think he’s scared of walking around with a few of my scratches along his cheek.
“Lovie?” he drawls, making my eyes flutter closed.
“Yes?”
“Look at me.”
I try to pry my eyes open, but they’re so heavy I can only crack the left one.
The tops of his dark waves dance into my view, and I whimper when I catch his eyes. I think I finally see that fear he’s always teasing me about lingering in them. It makes his pupils dilate and his eyes dart away from mine.
His warm breath tickles my wet lips. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you think you belong to m—”
“Yes!” I cry, surging forward.
He pushes me back against the island. “Calm down and look at me. Let me finish.”
Our eyes touch again.
Jesus—I terrify him.
The hot fear simmers on his face now, or maybe I’m so high I’m seeing things.
“Do you think you belong to me? Is that why you keep chasing after me?”
I nod slowly.
“Don’t tell me no shit like that if you ain’t for real because I ain’t never had nobody that just belonged to me.”
“I mean it.”
“Even when I’m long gone?” he asks. “You’ll still belong to me?”
Blinding tears fill my eyes while I stare at the dark circles around his eyes and hear those heavy words he admitted to me in Beatrice’s backyard: “Every woman I fuck knows what I am. I ain’t for forever.”
He rises from between my legs, swiping at my eyes while shushing me. “Awe. Don’t do that. That ain’t what I want. Come give me what I want.”
I dart toward him. The short distance between us feels miles long as I clamber forward, finally pressing my lips against his.
As soon as he opens his mouth to catch my tongue, a guttural moan escapes his throat and bellows into mine.
I swallow its vibration and my taste that’s been sitting on his tongue.
He lets me lead while his hand slides back around my neck.
There’s nothing mechanical about our kisses—just a natural rhythm that we both fall into as if we were only meant to kiss each other for the rest of our lives.
For a long time, I thought I wouldn’t live long enough to taste a man other than AJ, but here I am sucking the breath out of Rich’s body for a second time while his hand squeezes my throat.
I moan, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth and prying his fingers from my neck. I drag them down to my racing heart.
“You feel that?” I breathe against his mouth.
He nods.
I pull his fingers from my heart and slide them between my wet legs, pushing them against my even wetter lips. “You feel that?”
“Uh-huh,” he rasps.
“Tell Rasheeda you own them. Tell her you own me the next time she texts you about me. You believe me when I say I belong to you now?”
“Damn, Slim…” he groans. “Straight like that?”
“Just like that.”