38
ERICA
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There’s a very loud knock on my apartment door. It scared the shit out of me. I peer through the peephole and see King standing there, his face tight with anger. He glances down the hallway, then pounds on the door again, harder this time.
What the hell is his problem?
What is he even doing here?
He shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to the other, turning in a slow, impatient circle while he waits. Despite everything, a flutter of butterflies stirs in my stomach at the sight of him.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door. “Hey, long time no—”
“Can I be let in please?” he asks, cutting me off.
I step aside and wave him in with a dramatic flourish. As soon as he steps inside and I close the door behind him, he towers over me, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Why did you tell Aaliyah that I made a vow of celibacy?”
Oh boy, here we go.
“Because you wouldn’t have made a move otherwise, and you would have regretted not knowing,” I answer.
“I have no regrets, Erica…” He breathes in, dips his head, and looks at the ground before stepping away from me, looking up at the ceiling, and then turning back to face me.
“It wasn’t your place. You’re always meddling, always trying to get in the middle of things. ” His words come out a little louder.
My response is a smirk of indignation. “Well, look at the hypocrite speaking.”
“Excuse me?” he asks, with a quick tilt of his head, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“You heard me, King. You’re a hypocrite because you would do exactly the same thing when it comes to my life.
Furthermore…” I say dramatically with a smile.
“Why are you here? You shouldn’t be at a single woman’s house, especially one you’ve had relations with, when you know you shouldn’t have because of your religion. ” I mock.
King glares at me, his jaw working.
He is so mad right now. It’s honestly getting me wet.
I can’t help but reminisce about just recently how my mouth was on his cock, how easily his load slid down my throat in a big glob.
So fucking hot. So fucking delicious. And I want to do it again.
Looking at him looking all mad right now, I want to fuck him.
He’s so annoying, but I missed him, honestly .
“You…” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. He takes a step closer, then says through clenched teeth, “You make me sssooo angry.”
He might as well have yelled at me, because the way he is seething as he speaks right now makes me feel like he’s barely holding in his rage.
Is he really that angry that I told her about that?
What difference would it have made if she didn’t know?
And if it was really that much of a secret, he should have told me it was a secret.
“I make you angry?” I playfully challenge him.
“Yes! Yes, you do! And you’re always messing with my spirit!” he yells.
“Then leave !!!” I yell louder.
“Not before you apologize,” he scolds me, and I almost break out into laughter.
“Apologize for what ? I’m not apologizing for jack . Get out!” I snap, pointing fiercely at the door before folding my arms across my chest.
“Of course you wouldn’t. That’s beneath you, isn’t it?”
“Did I ruin things, or did you ?” I challenge.
“What?” He squints his eyes again as if I just spoke gibberish to him.
“That whole thing with Aaliyah. You’re mad because I told her about your vow. But how did you even get to that place in the conversation?”
“She basically… she told me God showed me and her together in a vision.”
“Well, there you go!” I yell out, throwing up my arms. “You’re welcome.”
I say that, but my heart isn’t in it. I want King to be happy, but it’s not like I want to be around to see it.
“I’m happy for you,” I tell him quietly.
His voice drops too. “You don’t mean that.”
I walk over to the couch and stand in front of it. “Why would I not mean it?”
“You want me to be with her?” he asks, a little more quietly, as if he’s flabbergasted at my answer.
There’s hesitation on my part.
Of course I don’t want him to be with her. But who am I to even say that or admit that? I’m not going to lie to the man and tell him that I want him to be with her, because that’s not the truth. But the truth is, I do want him to have what he wants.
The dude saved my life.
“I want you to be happy, King. And you’re getting in the way of your own happiness, and I don’t know why. You do the same for me,” I confess.
“I don’t meddle in your relationships or friendships though,” he answers.
“You liar. You do that all the time,” I tell him, giving him a slight side-eye from the side of my mouth, my eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to deny it, which he doesn’t.
His eyes shift away for a second, like he’s thinking, maybe realizing it’s true.
He steps closer, raking a hand through his pretty white hair before glancing at the ceiling, then off to the right. When he finally looks back at me, my head is slightly tilted as I stare up at him.
“You’re bad for me,” he says, almost in a whisper. “You’re a bad influence, and you set fire to everything around you.”
His voice sounds firm but almost like he’s not talking to me, like he’s talking to himself or trying to convince himself. Like he knows he should stay away from me but he’s finding it hard to.
So I challenge him.
“Then leave, King. Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“I should .”
“Then do it,” I whisper, holding his gaze, my hands at my sides.
Neither of us breaks eye contact.
Everything is whisper-quiet right now except for the bubbling water where my turtles are playing in their tank.
“Why are you still here?” I ask softly, my voice dropping to a whisper as well.
There’s a confused look on King’s face that makes him look so cute in this moment. “I… don’t know,” he whispers in reply.
In this moment, while we’re both staring at each other, while my eyes are focused on the man before me and his dark brows knitting underneath the faint tendrils of white hair falling in front of his face, I realize this pain that I have in my chest now.
I don’t just like him.
I don’t just have feelings for him.
God damn it… what the fuck.
I love him.
Either that, or I’m falling in love with him, and it’s annoying. I fucking hate this. I’m not supposed to feel like this.
Not again.
No.
Why is it always me, bro?
Why am I always falling for men who are unavailable or some shit? And the thing is, I don’t want to repeat what happened with Ty.
These feelings are too strong. My heart hurts for him, and I want to kiss him and be with him. At the same time, I want to push him away because I don’t want him to feel bad because of his stupid motherfucking religion. Even if his religion wasn’t the case… would he still be the same person?
This dude is not my type.
I mean, he’s my type in looks .
Definitely the kind of guy that I would want to go for. As a matter of fact, I still hold to this, but I don’t know if this makes me sound like a pick-me or whatever, but… he’s even too pretty for me.
Guys who look like King belong on magazine covers or on the arm of some wealthy, sun-kissed trust-fund blonde. The kind of couple who model together, have picture-perfect kids, and let nannies raise them while they jet off to whatever glamorous life they live.
That’s the energy King gives off. It makes it hard to believe he’s actually a serious Christian. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, but still… it doesn’t fully compute.
It’s not a joke. If it is, he’s committed to the longest con ever . But… I really think he’s sincere.
He genuinely seems like a good person. And that’s exactly why he feels out of my league. From everything he’s told me, I’m nowhere near as moral as him or his Christian friends, though I suspect a lot of them are full of shit anyway.
I’ve met plenty of Christians in my life.
I used to be one.
Out of all of them, King is one of the real ones.
Of course he’s not perfect, but… he takes his faith very seriously.
And I care about him enough to not want him to fall from it. I mean, I’m not going to lie, a part of me does, but… this is so fucking annoying.
Shaking my head, feeling the burn of tears rising, I grab his arm, spin behind him, and start shoving his tall body toward the door.
“You need to go,” I grit out, fighting the sob climbing up my throat.
The fuck am I crying for?
I don’t want him to see me cry.
King resists, leaning into his weight just enough to make pushing him a struggle.
Right before we reach the door, he suddenly swerves to the right, positioning himself in front of the wall to the right of the door frame.
“King. Go!” I force the words out, but they die the second he grabs both my wrists, yanks me forward, and kisses me.
My body has a mind of its own. My mouth wraps around his hungrily like we’re trying to outdo each other in speed with our kiss.
His tongue pushes into my mouth, mine slides around his as he works his way in and out of my mouth, our lips dancing across each other perfectly.
He’s such a good kisser it makes me feel sloppy.
His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him until our bodies are pressed tight, bellies touching. He leans back to let his back hit the wall for leverage, then leans in and lifts me clean off the floor, arms locked around my waist.
My feet dangle for a moment before he adjusts his grip and hoists me higher.
Instinctively, my legs wrap around his hips as we keep kissing. We’re moving.
Feeling myself moving backwards, I know exactly where we’re going.
My bedroom.
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