3. Javaris ‘Hitta’ Mitchell #4
I knew it was millions of niggas out there that wanted to fuck Deja.
She could have any nigga she wanted, so when I got in the pussy, the goal was to fuck with her mental, have it where I put dick in her that was so good, that I was the only nigga that she saw.
I was the only big dick that I wanted her to think about.
I wanted this dick to continue to cloud her judgement.
By no means do I think Deja is stupid, but I do feel like the dick that I drop off, and the money that I throw her way, plus the love that she has for me, plays it’s part in why she kept forgiving me for my fuck ups.
I do too much dirt. I had no choice but to fuck her like this.
“Javarisssss…. I love youuuuu…. Here I go again bae,” she announced, and she started slamming that ass back aggressively.
Ass was so heavy that I damn near stumbled back a little bit.
She was so wet that my dick was literally drowning.
I was a slim dude. Niggas always wanted to know how I was able to handle Deja, and all the ass that she had on her.
I was doing it. I stood tall in the pussy, hands gripped tightly on her ass, matching what she was dishing out.
“Fuck. Damn. I love you too baby. I’m nutting in that pussy right now. Fuck. There it go,” I grunted.
Her ass was so damn nasty, that after she finished releasing, she pushed my hands off her, turned around, and ate the dick up. I damn near passed out fuckin around with her ass.
We went at it hard in her bedroom. We made up for the week that we went without fuckin. By the time we finished, I didn’t have shit left to give her. I sat my ass down at the foot of the bed, breathing heavily, trying to catch my fuckin breath.
Deja was in the bathroom, wiping herself down. She came back probably five minutes later. Her clothes were still off, as she carried a washcloth in her hands. She brought it over to me, stood directly in between my legs, cleaning my dick off for me.
While she was doing that, I kept a steady gaze on her. The only thing that I could think about is how I didn’t deserve this woman.
“You know when I tell you that I love you, I mean that shit, right?” I just had to let her know. She looked up from what she was doing and placed those big eyes on me. She gave me a weak smile.
“I hear you when you say it,” she said, getting ready to walk away, but I pulled her arm, making her come back, and sit in my lap.
She straddled me, tossing the washcloth on the bed. I put my hands on her ass, while looking at her.
“You hear me, but do you believe me when I say it?” I asked her.
“No,” she responded.
I think this was the first time that I ever asked her this question. Her response shocked me though. I thought she believed me when I would tell her that I loved her.
“Damn. You saying that shit because you still in your feelings about me, and Obsession, or you truly believe that I don’t love you?” I wanted to know.
“I’m not in my feelings about you fuckin Obsession.
A nigga going to move how they move at the end of the day, but I just expected a little bit more from you.
I’m not hurt about it though. I told you that I know you don’t love me because I genuinely feel this way.
My mama used to fix her mouth and tell me she loved me back then.
Probably only said it like once a year. She’ll say she love me but then turn around and hurt me.
Calling me out my name, playing on my insecurities.
You do the same shit to me,” she looked me in my eyes as she said these things.
I knew the relationship that Deja had with her mom was toxic. She told me about it before. It was one of those relationships that brought her a lot of pain. Shit made me feel fucked up because the same woman that brought her all this pain is the same woman that she was comparing me to.
“I think you care about me. I just don’t think you love me. When you love someone, you don’t continue to hurt them, knowing the harm that it’ll cause. That’s not love,” she finished, and tried to get up again, but I stopped her.
“If you don’t think that I love you, why you still fuck with me then? Why you allow me to fuck you the way I just did?” I was curious. She smiled at those questions, while nodding her head.
“I never told you that I needed you to love me. That was never a requirement that I dished out to you. Love isn’t something that I’m used to getting from a man.
My own daddy walked out of my life and didn’t want shit to do with me.
All the men that I’ve been with, they do nothing but lust after me.
That’s why I’m not heartbroken over knowing that you don’t love me.
I don’t know what being loved from a man feels like in the first place, so how can I ask you to love me?
” she asked, and that question was deep. Sad too.
“Goodnight. I’m about to go to sleep,” she dropped that bomb on me, kissed me on my cheek, and then stood up.
I wasn’t really used to seeing this side of Deja.
Deja was a cold bitch. Always confidant.
Always ready to turn up and have a good time.
Even the conversations that the two of us have had in the past about her mom and dad, those conversations were always short lived.
She never really wanted to dwell on it. It fucked with me heavy knowing that she believed that I didn’t love her.
I know I continue to do some fucked up shit to her, but I did love Deja.
I let her get in bed, while I stood up. Her top drawer held some of my briefs, so I grabbed a pair, and went into the bathroom. I pissed, and went over to the sink, so that I could rinse my mouth out. By the time I made it back into the bedroom, Deja had fallen asleep.
I couldn’t get that shit out of my head that she’d said to me.
I could only imagine how she would feel if Joy really was pregnant, and she decided to keep the baby.
Everything that she just said to me would make sense to her.
If I could go behind her back, and get another bitch pregnant, she would truly believe in her heart that a nigga never loved her like I claimed to.