Chapter 8
I didn’t mean to end up here. I was serious about not letting this man touch me.
But when I woke up cuddled against him, my body refused to move away.
Targen felt and smelled so good. Then, he touched me, rubbing my thigh in a way that I hadn’t felt in a year.
And fuck, he was so thick and hard and long behind me.
My mind lost the battle with my body. I wanted him.
Honestly, I had since the moment I first saw him in my grandmother’s living room a year ago.
Just one more time, I’d give into the desire… .
And now, here I was, splayed beneath him, caged in by his big body, and feeling his dick in my throat. His chest pressed against my back, and his hands held my wrists in a death grip as he fucked me in long, relentless strokes. I had really pissed him off.
I loved it.
I moaned as his dick rasped against every sensitive spot inside me. Lord, this man… the way he fucked me was addictive. He was possessive, dominant, delicious. His thrusts were fast and hard, rough, but he wasn’t hurting me.
I knew he never would… physically.
He changed angles, and my pussy squeezed him hard as he touched places that only he ever had.
“Creaming on my dick like this and talking about another nigga. Tell me more about him, malyshka. Tell me if he makes you feel like this. Tell me if he fucks you like this, Theory.”
His voice was low, dark, sexy. The last thing I felt like doing was trying to make sensible conversation when I could feel and hear the slick clapping of our skin, his impassioned grunts, my soft moans. Targen drilled into me over and over as my hands curled into the luxurious fabric of the sheets.
“Yeah, you don’t have to say anything. I already know the answers. No one has made you feel the way I do. That’s why you opened up to me. And no one else fucks you like I do. No one else fucks you, period. Just me, shorty. Only me. This pussy is mine, milaya. You are mine.”
I hated the way my body reacted at his possessive words.
I bit my lip as my pussy contracted and liquefied around him, refusing to cry out as the orgasm slammed into me.
My breath and my mind were stolen as I lay face planted into the bed while he fucked me through it, taunted me through it.
He knew what his claim did to me physically, even as I planned to deny it.
His soft laugh as he stroked in and out of me was victorious.
“You don’t have to tell me you missed me, baby. Yo’ body says it all,” he said as his fingers gripped me more tightly, holding my ass against the cradle of his pelvis as his warm release suddenly flooded me.
No. No babies. I needed to move away, tell him to stop.
But the words wouldn’t come, and my traitorous pussy had the nerve to flutter again as a mini orgasm seized my body, pulling his seed deeper.
Finally, he pulled out and flipped me over, still trapping me beneath him.
His eyes scanned my face as his hand massaged my hip and thigh.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be? You gave me what I asked for. As long as you understand that after this morning, this will never happen again,” I responded, praying I sounded as nonchalant as I tried to project.
A small smile graced his handsome face.
“Whatever you say, mamas.”
I pushed against his shoulder.
“Let me up.”
“Not yet,” he said, before stealing a sweet, drugging kiss.
Targen kissed me over and over, his warm hands kneading and rubbing my body.
I tried, really tried, not to melt as he whispered the sweetest things to me, reminding me of his promises, making more.
And then, he was inside me again. This time was different, slower, more personal as his eyes peered into mine, and his lips captured every denial I tried to speak.
“You gon’ marry me, Theory Grace. You gon’ be the happiest wife, mother, writer, whatever the fuck you wanna be.”
And for some reason, tears spilled from my eyes as he spilled into me.
This time when I tried to get up, his mouth went to my ultra-sensitive breasts.
I was so caught up in the delicious feel of his mouth on my nipples that it took me a minute to realize what he was doing.
Really, it was only when he tilted my hips slightly that I understood.
This mothafucka was giving his little swimmers time to reach their destination, positioning me so that his seed would bathe my womb. I smacked his chest.
“You jackass! You not slick! Get off me!” I ordered.
He moved immediately, and I was unexpectedly sad as I felt him withdraw from my body and roll over.
“I told you that I probably can’t have babies. And I’m definitely not having them with you,” I spat.
“You can, and you will,” was all he said before standing from the bed, leaving me staring at his body in all its naked glory. This man had muscles where I didn’t even know they existed. I pressed my lips together to keep from asking for a round three.
Thankfully, Targen left me to shower by myself.
I used the provided products again before wrapping a bath sheet around me and heading for that big ass closet.
The clothes were beautiful, and it only took me a minute to find a cute little sundress made of light denim, with thick straps a ruched bodice, and an A-line skirt.
I slid on a pair of designer sandals and picked through the jewelry on a chest that stood in the middle of the closet floor.
I don’t know what Targen had planned for the rest of the day, but he was taking me back to my house… at least to get some things.
By the time I exited the closet, he was coming back into the room.
He had showered elsewhere in this huge house once again.
He looked fashionable in his blue, knitted camp shirt, white chinos, and what looked like custom-made espadrilles.
Gold glimmered at his wrists and throat, and as he walked closer, I realized he smelled good as fuck like always.
My pussy started puddling like he hadn’t just thoroughly beat her up.
I ignored the insistent throb, squeezing my thighs together and glaring at him.
“Why you so dressed up?” I asked suspiciously.
“Was gon’ see if you wanna go to lunch. Why you so dressed up?”
“Because you gon’ take me to my house, and you owe me a new set.”
I held up my hand where two of my poor little deep coffin nails, including the one on my left ring finger, were ruined after the way I gripped the sheets…
and him. I couldn’t wear a ring like the one he gave me with jacked up nails.
Not that I was going to wear it… for long.
A satisfied grin curved his perfect lips.
“When our house is ready, you won’t have to hold on so hard. You can let those screams out,” he teased.
He got an eye roll in response. Laughing, he stepped closer to me and dropped a soft kiss on my lips.
“I’m glad you like the clothes. I described you to my mom, and she went to work. They were delivered to our house at first, but Maxim had everything moved after they discovered the problems,” he said.
I looked up at him.
“You bought all this stuff for me?” I whispered.
Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t easily impressed by money. I came from an upper-middle-class background. But the clothes alone… not to mention that beautiful jewelry; he had definitely dropped a bag.
He kissed me again, cupping my cheek. “For you, I’d buy the world, if I could.”
He rested his forehead against mine, and our noses touched. I wrinkled mine.
“Not that rich, yet, huh?” I murmured.
“Hell, nah.”
I couldn’t help laughing with him, letting myself enjoy the unexpected intimacy of the moment. Mikhail was waiting for us downstairs. He bowed his head deferentially to Targen, then turned to me.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Sidorov,” he greeted. “How are you?”
“I’m not… You know what? Never mind. I’m fine. How are you, Mikhail?” I asked on an exasperated sigh.
“I am well, ma’am.”
The three of us trekked out the door just as a darkly-tinted Yukon Denali pulled up. The driver’s door opened, and I expected to see the man from last night. Instead, a loud, familiar voice rang out.
“Aww, shit. My OG done called me down here to show these big ass white boys how to do it! Wassup, Theory of Evolution? You looking pretty as ever!” Juvie crowed as he rounded the truck and approached us.
A big smile split my face as I opened my arms to him. He hugged me quickly, probably because Targen emitted some kind of disapproving growl.
“Julien,” he said, the warning in his tone clear as he used Juvie’s given name.
“Chill, witcho big ass. Don’t start acting the way Real does about Thickums. I might look like Trey Songz, but I ain’t Mr. Steal Yo’ Girl,” Juvie announced.
He was so exuberant, so full of life and silliness that you couldn’t help liking his crazy self, although Targen had told me he had another side. I guess he had to, to work with Real and Targen.
“I’m good, Juvie. How are you, honey?” I inquired.
He inhaled deeply and patted his chest.
“I am Tony the Tiger great, lady. Just enjoying the day that the good Lord has made.”
I side-eyed him. “You been visiting my granny, huh?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Right before I came here. It’s something about that dewberry cobbler that won’t let me stay away.”
I laughed again and squeezed his hand. He turned to look at Mikhail.
“You ain’t gon’ speak? Acting like you ain’t been watching yo’ bosses put me through all this training!”
Mikhail inclined his head. “It is... interesting to see you again, Julien Reed.”
Juvie sucked his teeth. “Man, if you gon’ be my ride along, you gotta loosen up.
Stop calling my whole name. Call me Juvie.
That bad-ass Russian shit ain’t gon’ work, either.
I’m an excellent conversationalist, so you need to be ready to converse.
Now, what we waiting on? We got places to be.
Get y’all asses in this car!” he ordered before jogging back around the truck and sliding his lanky ass in.
“I’ma kill him,” Targen muttered.
Smiling, I shook my head. “You definitely are not.”