MALI
Symphony’s body rocked back and forth as she straddled my lap. Her pussy was everything I needed in this moment. I knew that in a few hours of my not having any alcohol, my attitude would soon change, and I prayed like hell she wouldn’t take offense.
My hand slid up her back as I took a handful of her hair into my hands. I tilted her head and dove my face into her neck. Every kiss I gave her was passionate, just as my heart was for her.
Back and forth.
“Symph,” I moaned.
Back and forth.
She was so into it that she wouldn’t look at me. She dropped her head forward as her eyes raised to me. “Mmm, baby, I love this. Every time,” she whined.
I gripped her hips, moving her body faster. “I do too. Look at me,” I told her.
She glanced at me, and her eyes were sultry. She was in deep, just as deep as I was. “Fuck me like you love me. Fuck me, like this is the last time,” I told her.
Symphony pushed me back onto the bed and planted her feet on each side of me. She pressed her hands on my abs and allowed her pussy to stroke my dick with a slow motion. I sucked in a deep breath before my mouth opened. “Ah!” I moaned. “Like that, Symph. Pussy sweet at the perfect Symphony.”
“Mm. I’m in it for the long haul. Mison I—”
“Don’t say that shit unless you mean it.”
Her pussy clenched, sending me shooting up. She wrapped her arms around my neck tightly. “I don’t want to let go. I love you, Mison,” she cried in my ear.
I held her waist tightly and fucked her just as my heart told me to.
I could feel her tears trickling down my back as her teeth sank into my skin.
I loved Symphony, hell, I was in love with her, but I couldn’t say those words until I gave her that fucking necklace back.
I had been trying to figure out ways to do it without hurting her, but with every idea I came up with, guilt was attached to it.
She and I exploded together moments later. As we lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind went into overdrive. “Symph, baby, I need to tell you something,” I uttered.
Her light yawn told me she was about to fall asleep. “I’m listening,” she mumbled.
I was trying to figure out a way to soften the blow of telling her that I had been there the night her father was beaten. My mouth opened to say something, anything, but my mind was holding me hostage. “I-I want to,” I paused. Shit! “I want to thank you for being there for me.”
As badly as I wanted to tell her, I still didn’t have the heart to do it.