Chapter 3
THREE
She said nothing, pissing me the fuck off.
I could feel my internal rage and distaste form for a nigga I barely even knew.
He wasn’t worth the energy of getting to know, but the fact that he was more than likely trying to conquer a heart that I wanted to myself forced my interest. Only because I wanted to know what he was doing to make her smile the twenty-six times she had since she walked into Oat + Olive.
I thought I would’ve lost count around ten, but as the number grew, so did my disdain.
“Ken,” she said my name, again, frustrating me.
“Keanu,” I corrected. That’s who she was interested in and that’s who stood before her.
“What are you doing here?”
“You want me here, so I’m here,” I stepped forward and didn’t stop until we were nose to nose. Chest to chest. Mouth to mouth.
She’s mine, I told myself.
“Why you talk all that shit in that message then fold on me?” I asked, chest aching at the thought of her not waiting for me like I’d waited for her all these years. “You love that nigga, Lyric?”
I needed to know. Waiting for her response had my jaws locking and my fists clenching. She didn’t get to love anyone else. I was her only option. No one else existed as long as I did.
The air that she released from her lungs after holding it in so long, brushed against my lips. Her chest inflated, meeting mine as it rose and then it fell shortly after. The energy shifted as she prepared to answer the question I’d put into the atmosphere almost a full minute prior.
“No,” she finally replied, pushing out the word along with another heavy breath.
Her chest rattled as her cheeks hiked and eyes lowered. The glossiness of them didn’t go unnoticed. Nothing ever did when it came to her. I caught everything, even the tears that fell from her eyes as she tried turning to run away from me.
“Come here,” I demanded.
Unable to control myself, I found one hand around her neck while the other untied the string that held her robe together.
I leaned down and watched as her mouth slacked, opening and waiting for my intrusion.
Infuriated that she was lending her time to another nigga while simultaneously aroused knowing that nigga could never fuck her or love her like I was going to, I summoned every drop of saliva I could.
Spuhhhhh.
I spat into her mouth, my dick hardening as the thickness slid down her throat and splattered around her lips.
She’s mine.
My lower hand continued to roam upon the realization that she was pantiless. Her hairless pussy slipped through the slits of each of my fingers, its meatiness making my mouth water and pre-cum ooze from the tip of my dick.
“I missed you, too,” I whispered to her, tightening the grip around her neck as her mouth fell open and legs widened.
“You don’t give a fuck about me,” she cried, softly, her voice weakening with each word.
Even she didn’t believe the bullshit she was spewing. Had it been anyone else, I’d allow them to think that because it would be very true. But, not her. Not my Lyric.
“You’re right. I give two fucks,” I admitted, rubbing her bald pussy with my index and middle finger. Her head fell back onto the wall.
The tears that stained her face didn’t resemble the ones I imagined she’d cry if our reunion went anything remotely close to what I’d planned.
But I’d let her release them because secretly I felt as if she deserved them.
I’d been tormented from the moment she walked into Oat + Olive with a nigga on her trail.
I wasn’t over that shit and wouldn’t get over it in a matter of minutes.
She’d understand the pain I felt sooner than later.
When she couldn’t walk a few steps without gapped legs and a prayer because I’d punished her pussy for hours on end, she’d comprehend.
“You didn’t write me back,” she whimpered.
“What the fuck did you expect me to say?”
“Something!” She found her strength, lifted her head, and looked me dead in the eyes.
“I’m here to show you better than I could’ve told you,” I reasoned.
“I needed you then.”
“But, I’m here now.”
“And, I’m involved,” she spat back.
“Then, why my hand in your pussy and not his?” I asked, slowly penetrating her with the same two fingers I’d massaged her clit with.
Her body raised as she gasped and clenched both my arms for support.
“Hmmmm?” I demanded a response.
“You left me hanging.”
“Only so that I could tell you to your face,” I admitted, pecking her pretty, pouty lips as I massaged her internals.
I hurt her. I hated that. I hated myself for allowing her to believe anything other than my truth.
That wasn’t my intention but no amount of words could accurately describe my feelings for her.
She’d recalled the same night that I discovered my feelings for her.
Prom night, the first time I’d ever felt a twinge of jealousy and it was for the nigga on her arm.
“Tell me– whaaaaaat?”
“That my heart, my pockets, my dick, my thoughts, my world belongs to you. I been yours, Lyric. I was only waiting for you to stake your claim.”
As the words left my mouth, I felt a gush of fluid streaming down my fingers, wrist, and onto my arm. The never-ending flow heightened my adrenaline and forced a smile to my lips. Baby girl was pent up, and I was about to knock her shit down.
“Oh God.”
“And, that’s the only nigga you better call besides me from now on.”
She continued to rain down on my fingers, her knees buckling and the features of her beautiful face knotting in so many different ways.
“Oh God. It won’t stop.” She worried too much. Always had.
“Shhhhh.” With my lips, I silenced her.
If I was being honest, for the moment, I didn’t want to hear shit she had to say. I heard her loud and clear three months ago. Tonight was my response. For every syllable she’d poured out her heart with, I’d stroke her pussy with my tongue, my fingers, and eventually my dick.
Lyric’s flaccid body rested on me as the supply to her river stopped flowing. She was breathless as she clung to life by a thread. I wrapped her legs and arms around me and pulled her into my chest before turning and heading for the stairs.
“Hold on to me,” I advised. Her weakened state made it a bit harder than to keep her from slipping from my arms.
“I can’t,” she whined, head hanging over my shoulder.
I placed a hand at her back and one underneath her bare ass, marching up the steps with her bouncing the entire way.
Her home wasn’t foreign to me. I’d visited countless times since Luca had come home.
Prior, she was ducked off and unavailable to the world.
But since he’d touched down, she’d been the butterfly I’d known since we were kids.
It was also Laike who’d shown me how to enter her crib without a key.
He’d lost his a year ago, according to him, but knew how to maneuver the lock and get it to open for him.
It was the main reason he was going to upgrade her security system soon.
He’d mentioned it before we parted ways, but if he didn’t within the next week then I’d install a new one myself.
I’d entered her home far too easily using Laike’s maneuver.
Her body hit the bed, indenting her comforter and making the ends lift. The robe that was once snug around her body was loose and threatening to fall from her shoulders. She was stunning, staring up at me waiting for me to lead her to wherever it was I planned for us to go.
“This isn’t my bedroom.”
“It’s not your main bedroom,” I corrected her, “but the one you love sleeping in when home alone because you’re furthest away from the door and that comforts you… makes you feel safer.”
It’s me you’re talking to, I thought. When it came to her, I paid attention to detail.
“You hurt my feelings,” she confessed, spreading her legs exposing parts of her that I’d only dreamt about. And now that they were in my line of vision, I could admit that my dreams hadn’t done them much justice.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she pushed.
“For whatever you want me to be sorry for,” I replied as I pulled my shirt over my head.
Once it was completely off and I could see again, I noticed her position had changed. Her legs had closed as she sat up in bed tying the string around her waist.
“What’s the matter?” I stopped to ask, placing both hands in the front of my briefs. The comfort it brought me was unshakable. I imagined it was the same for someone who sucked their thumb.
“Just forget it, Ken.”
“Keanu.”
“Whatever the fuck you want to call yourself. Just forget it. Just forget I ever wrote you. It was a mistake. I’m still regretting it ‘til this day and you being here is not helping. You should leave!”
“So what, you can cry yourself to sleep? Nah. I’m here and I’m staying because I know that’s what we both want.”
“Where did you park?” Her eyes bulged as she stood to her feet.
Gently, I pushed her back onto the bed and then placed my hand back into the waistband of my briefs.
“What does it matter?”
“I don’t want my brother riding by and seeing your car outside.”
“Not that it would be an issue if he did, but don’t worry your pretty little head. I’m not parked in your driveway.”
“Well, enjoy the walk back.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I said forget the letter.”
“I can’t. Neither can you.”
“It meant nothing,” she argued, her words stinging.
“It meant everything,” I admitted.
“Why are you here?” She softened, eyes watering.
“Why the fuck you keep crying, Lyric?” There was a very thin line between lovers and friends and it was blurring each time I saw tears in her pretty brown eyes. More than anything else, I wanted to know if she was well.
“Because you made me feel like a fool… even now I feel foolish.”
“Why?”
“Because as much as I don’t want to, I still want you.”
“And you’re going to keep wanting me. That shit doesn’t just go away because you’re upset or in your feelings. It intensifies. So, why are you willing to deprive yourself for the sake of pride?”