Chapter 5 Khloe #2
Thank God for Mamma G. Only she could bribe Kennedi into staying over by dangling a nail appointment in front of her face. That girl barely wanted to leave her room for dinner, but say “coffin shape with sparkles” and she’d move fast.
We tried to hold each other up as we climbed the stairs, damn near knocking picture frames off the wall.
“Aye, aye, aye!” Kairo yelped when he missed a step, grabbing the railing.
I wheezed from laughing so hard. Hanging onto his blazer, my heel twisted halfway off my foot. “Boy, you almost broke your damn neck!”
He looked at me with those low eyes and slurred, “But I would’ve died smiling though.”
We cracked up again, tripping and bumbling the rest of the way into our bedroom.
That stupid, tipsy, don’t-make-no-sense kind of laughter was what I missed. We used to have fun like that all the time. Before we got so caught up in bills, careers, parenting, responsibilities… Before our house started feeling like a waiting room instead of a home.
I let him unzip my dress. I sat down on the bench at the edge of the bed and lifted one leg, then the other, as he unfastened my heels.
That was something he always did. No matter what was going on between us—arguing, silent treatment, whatever—if I had on heels, he was taking them off for me.
I stood to grab our clothes like I usually did, headed toward the laundry basket out of habit. But he stopped me. Hands wrapping around my waist from behind.
“Do that tomorrow,” he said, voice low, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Right now… you need to relax.”
Before I could even reply, his mouth was on my neck with kisses that sent a wave of goosebumps down my spine.
“You smell so damn good,” he whispered, pulling me tighter against him like he could breathe me in.
I could feel my temperature rising.
There was never a time when I didn’t want my husband. Even when I was mad. Even when I swore I was withholding. Even when I closed the door on him and cried myself to sleep. The desire always lingered in the background of my mind.
The way Kairo made love to me… it was like nothing else.
Now, granted, I’ve never had anyone else to compare it to, and I didn’t need to. Just from hearing the way my friends talk about their men, I already knew mine was in a league of his own.
He was slow when I needed slow. Deep when I needed depth. Rough when I needed to feel like I was being claimed… but even then, he never let me forget how sacred I was to him.
There were times I wanted him to just throw me around, scratch the itch, leave the handprint on my ass. And I told him that. But Kairo was different. He’d press his forehead to mine, whispering, “You’re never just sex to me, Khloe. You’re my peace, my center, and my reason.”
Even when he was hitting the deepest parts of me, it wasn’t just to fill a need—it was to pour back into me. That’s why it bothered me so much when I couldn’t get it all the time and back to back.
His lips dragged down the side of my neck while his hands worked their way around my naked body. He cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples while I moaned in need.
“You feel so good,” he murmured, squeezing my ass while sucking my neck. “I love you, baby.”
I wanted to say I love you too, but the words caught in my throat because I was scared that if I spoke, I’d start crying again just thinking about everything. I didn’t want tears. I wanted release. I wanted the version of him that wasn’t a businessman or a fixer or a provider. Just mine.
So I kissed him in a way that said I loved him without speaking. We stumbled back toward the bed, mouths still fused, hands everywhere. His eyes never left me. He looked at me like I was the best creation, like I was still everything he ever wanted, even when I didn’t feel like it.
“Lay back,” he said in a commanding but gentle tone.
The second my back hit the sheets, my body was already shaking in anticipation.
Kairo’s body hovered over mine, eyes locked in on every inch of exposed skin like he was taking inventory. He kissed my collarbone, my waist, and my belly.
His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them slowly like he was opening a gift. “Damn, Khloe,” he whispered against my skin. “You’re so wet, baby.”
My breath hitched. I wanted to say something smart like I’m always like this but you’re too busy or too tired. I wanted to be mad. But my body wasn’t on the same page as my pride.
He moved his tongue along the line of my hip, then lower and so slow it made me twitch. He took his time, the way he always did, like I was Sunday dinner and he had all night.
And when he kissed the place that throbbed the most, I damn near lost it.
“Ohhhhh, Kairo—”
That was the thing. He knew my body and what to do with it. He enjoyed breaking me all the way down just to build me right back up.
My thighs locked around his head, but he didn’t stop. He let me come apart in his mouth, hands gripping the sheets.
He came back up, wiping his mouth and staring at me like I was his greatest achievement.
“You like that?” he asked, smiling.
“I love that,” I whispered, breathless.
He laughed. “Turn around.”
I did as he said bracing myself for the pressure from his back shots. He entered me slow, letting me feel every inch. We both moaned at the same time.
“I missed you,” I said, biting my lip as he moved deeper.
“I’ve been right here,” he said against my mouth. “I never left.”
But he had. And I had too, in my own way. We were connected in a way we hadn’t been in too long. And with every thrust, he reminded me of who we used to be. Who we could still be.
His rhythm was slow but intense, like he was trying to say all the things he hadn’t had the words for.
“I love you,” he said into my neck.
“I love you too,” I whispered back, shaking uncontrollably.
He picked up the pace, holding my body close to his chest. And when we both came, it was like an emotional purge.
He collapsed on top of me with both of us sweaty and out of breath. I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want to cuddle and sleep. I just wanted to feel him inside of me over and over again, all night long.