Chapter 39
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
LOVIE
I packed my life into two duffel bags, one hard-shell suitcase, and Yesenia’s frayed Coach tote—and I’m not allowed to touch any of it.
Rich pushes through his front door with the tote in the crook of his arm, a duffel bag on each shoulder, and his fingers threaded through the suitcase’s top handle.
“We can go back and get the rest of your stuff this weekend,” he murmurs, toeing his shoes off and walking toward his bedroom. “Call Faye tomorrow and tell her to pack it up. I don’t want no shit when we get there. I love her, but I’ll beat Kenny’s ass over you.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod, studying him from behind the island in the kitchen, just in case I missed something in the days we spent apart.
His bedroom eyes fall a little lower when they look at me. There’s a bruise forming on his right cheek that he rubs anytime he glances at all my stuff. And his swollen lips look puffier every time he bites them after reassuring me that everything will be okay.
“We gonna be okay, baby,” he murmured the entire drive home while squeezing my hand. “I’m gonna take care of you...of us.”
I push away from the island and patter down the hallway behind him, chasing those words. Inside his bedroom, he rolls the suitcase in front of his dresser and drops the rest of my bags around it with a grunt.
We stand in silence.
Now I think I know what he meant about there being no such thing as a fairytale type of love because the truth is that he’s never lived with a woman intimately.
It’s in the frown on his face as he stares around his bedroom with his fingers hooked through the sides of his wet shirt.
The truth is that we’re still indebted to a man who hates him and everything he stands for.
The stress of it is in his hunched shoulders.
The truth is that he has no plan beyond this moment, but thinks he should because he’s still carrying parts of that old legacy that says a man has to figure out how to take care of his family. The panic is in his russet eyes.
I crawl onto his bed and watch him watching my bags again while rubbing his cheek.
“Rich? Are you okay?”
He drops his hand, then turns around and crooks his finger. “C’mere.”
I meet him at the edge of the bed where he hooks his hands under my arms and sits me up on my knees so we’re eye to eye.
He pulls his broken necklace from under his wife beater I kept, and studies the sparkling diamonds. Afterward, his eyes trail to my middle and stay there.
I smell the alcohol on him just like I did back on Aunt Faye and Uncle Kenny’s porch. The tart scent flirts with the rosemary and oakmoss that’s always floating off him, and my nipples harden.
His wispy eyelashes flutter, then his shoulders droop as if he can finally let the alcohol he’s been drowning himself in do its job.
“What I’m supposed to do now, baby?” he slurs, glancing up at me. “Wha…what do I do with you?”
I nudge him back, then I reach out and pull his T-shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor.
I’m greeted by my old friends that I missed in the days we spent apart—his biceps… triceps…and deltoids. The jagged scar that had Uncle Kenny in a tizzy stares back at me along with a deep bruise on his chest that I think Primo left.
“You let me take care of you because we’re at home where there’s no people in our ears telling us how to live our lives,” I whisper, climbing off the bed and fingering the top of his shorts. “It’s just us in your house where you pay the bills. You can conquer the world tomorrow.”
His Adam’s apple bounces as he takes a deep swallow.
I tug his shorts, yanking them and his boxer briefs until they fall into a puddle around his feet. His hard dick angrily springs forward like it can’t believe I left it alone for so many days after we finally got acquainted.
And I can’t believe it either.
Its deep veins make saliva coat the insides of my mouth, and its intimidating size still makes a shiver course through my body. I reach out, placing my hands on his hard abs, and he drops his chin to his chest, staring down at me.
“I still own you after what I did?” he asks.
I fall to my knees and press my face against his dick. “You never stopped.”
I inhale, letting his natural scent dance with the rest of the intoxicating smells that float off him, and he pulls my bonnet off my head, digging his fingers into my scalp and tugging my head back by my curls.
“Slim?” he murmurs.
“Uh-huh?”
“I know you not doing what I think you about to do.”
“I am,” I whisper back, fighting against his hold.
His grip on my hair loosens just enough for me to lean forward and swallow the head of his dick, and it fills my mouth in a way I didn’t know was possible.
I grab the rest of his shaft and brace myself while reveling in the fact that I can finally swallow the taste I’ve been obsessing over. He huffs out a low groan while I drop my hands and widen my mouth, inching past his head as tears blur my vision.
“Baby…” he hisses, brushing his fingers against my cheek.
I knock them away and suck him deeper into my mouth, even though there’s no more room left.
“Mhmmm…” I groan.
Me and his dick are having the same type of moment we had in his truck because AJ’s dick could never reach beyond a particular point in my mouth. It never made me dizzy or gag so hard that my shoulders hunched and my body jerked.
Rich runs the rough pads of his fingers along my cheek again. As soon as I reach up to swat him away, he grabs my hand and threads his fingers through mine.
“Look at me,” he mutters, dragging our hands back to my face and wiping my tears with them.
I look into his low eyes and find them lit with amusement. “Why you so fuckin hardheaded, huh? You gon’ hurt yourself on my dick one of these days.”
I probably will, and I’ll be okay with it.
His hard abs contract as he laughs like he can read my thoughts.
“Spit it out,” he says, reaching down and grabbing the rest of his dick that won’t fit in my throat.
I begrudgingly pull back, releasing it and all of its girth. Once he has it back to himself, he pulls me to my feet, tugging his wife beater over my head and peeling his sweats and my panties down my legs until all I’m left wearing is his necklace.
“I’ve had you back for over two hours now and you ain’t even gave me what I want, but you got straight on your knees to taste my dick?” He tsks, shaking his head and sliding his hand between my legs. “Never beating those Myra Monkhouse allegations, huh?”
I blubber out a moan as he pushes a finger into my wetness.
“Gimme what I want,” he murmurs.
“Wha…” I moan. “Tell…tell me what you want so I can.”
“I want your tongue first,” he whispers, swiping his lips against mine and pushing his tongue inside my mouth.
Our tongues tangle together—sliding against and around each other. I melt into him and his finger that’s still pumping in and out of me until he pulls away, pecking my lips, and pulling his finger out of me.
“Now I want your throat,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around it and easing me back onto the floor in front of his dick.
I open my mouth and try to swallow him again, but my throat rejects the last few inches.
“Can I help it go down easier, baby?” he asks.
How can I even tell him ‘no’ when he asked me one of those Rich questions in such an easy, sexy way?
I hum out a muffled moan, nodding.
“Relax it…” he whispers, dragging his hand up and down my throat. “I ain’t going nowhere, so ain’t no reason to rush. I’ll never do that to us again. I can’t even believe I did that…”
Hearing those words makes my jaw sag and my shoulders droop while I swallow another inch of his dick.
His hand glides from my throat to my full cheek and stops on my nose.
He tweaks it. “You gotta breathe through here.”
As soon as I try to, my body lurches forward and I choke on him, hurling out a mouthful of spit. It covers the length of his dick and the bottom half of my face in a warm, wet mess.
“That’s good, baby,” he utters. “I like it like that.”
I glance up at his massive frame, dragging my blurry eyes across that ugly scar and that swirly Bayou Boy on his arm.
I’ve never seen a view as beautiful as this one while on my knees, and I’ve never felt more proud to belong to a man.
In fact, I’ve never felt okay with belonging to any man until now.
He bites his lip. “It’s okay if you can’t take it all—”
I dart forward with a wide mouth and relaxed throat and swallow the length of his dick while breathing through my nose like he said.
His knees buckle. “Oh my fuck.”
His hands find their way to the back of my head, and his fingernails dig into my scalp. The extra moisture from my spit makes him slide all the way down my throat with so much ease that my eyes roll into the back of my head.
I let it sit there while I revel in the way he stretches my mouth, and the sounds that come from the back of my throat are otherworldly.
“Baby…” Rich hisses. “Ba—fuck.”
I pull back and push down as far as I can just to hear those ethereal noises along with his deep voice.
“Oh, shit.”
“Mhmm.” I hum back.
It’s like a game that only I’m privy to: what can I do with my mouth to make Rich Lovelace cum?
If I push deep enough, his toes curl.
If I spit on it, he moans.
If I French kiss the tip, he curses.
I blink up at him.
As soon as our eyes touch, I feel that familiar jerk in my mouth.
I reach up, digging my nails into his thighs to keep him steady because I think I’ve finally won.
“Nuh-uh,” he grunts, prying my fingers up and pulling his dick back by its base.
I follow him on my knees.
“But I want it,” I whine.
The sound of my voice instantly makes him yank me up by my arm and back me into his bed. I clamber onto it, desperately pushing my ass in the air, but nothing happens except the vent above the bed blowing a gust of air on my soaking wet middle.
“What you doing?” he croaks from behind me.
I moan back until his heavy palm strikes my ass with so much force that the loud clap echoes throughout his room. Stinging pain prickles across my skin, making me claw my nails into his comforter and moan.
“I asked what you were doing?” he croaks again.
“I…I want you to cum,” I stammer back in a huff, burying my nose in his comforter.
“You want me to cum with you like this?”
“I just want you to cum. I want you to relax.”
“But we’re at home, Lovie—not in my truck at the park. This…this ain’t that.”
“Rich—”
“Turn around.”
I start to twist my body, but he picks me up and turns me over on my back instead of waiting for me to do it. I spread my legs open just like I did on his kitchen counter.
“Ah…” I exhale as the air tickles my engorged clit.
Now there’s only a few inches between his dick and my soaking wet entrance. If I can just slide forward a little, I can ease it inside me.
I scoot forward.
He shakes his head. “You know better. I told you this wasn’t that situation in the park.”
I did, but this situation is dire too.
He ripped us apart, then put us back together, and now I need him to soothe the parts of us he damaged in the process. I need to show him why he can never do that again.
He stoops down, wrapping his hand around my face and cupping my cheeks.
We stare at each other.
“I love that you control Daddy…” he murmurs, pushing his mouth onto mine and his dick into my slick entrance. “But sometimes Daddy need a lil’ control too. Can I have that in my house?”
An ugly moan bellows from the deepest part of my gut and shoots into his mouth, where he swallows it along with that word that dances up my throat whenever he touches parts of my soul that no other man ever could.
“Can I, Lovie?” he mutters, pulling the tip of his dick out and leaving me empty again.
My body thrashes against the mattress, and I push my pelvis into the air, searching for anyway to get a part of him.
He pushes me back down. “Answer me, baby. Can Daddy have that?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes! I understand. You wanna do it the right way this time. Now, please put it back in.”
My answer is met with half of his dick being shoved inside me. It feels like our first time all over again, but this time I’m not throwing a fit and forcing his hand. This time we’re doing it the way he begged me to do it back at the park. We’re doing it his way.
“Look at me,” he grunts under his breath, pushing the rest of his dick inside me. “You lookin, baby?”
“Uh-huh,” I squeak.
“How you lookin at me with your eyes closed?”
I peel them open and his handsome face is the first thing they land on. He bites into his bottom lip and stops grinding inside of me to grab my leg and pull it next to his face.
He presses his lips to my ankle, then peppers my foot with light kisses. “You see how much better this is? This is how I wanna make love to you. I need to see you, and I need you to see me. You see what you do to me? You see how weak you make me? You see how much I love you?”