Chapter Nine Xalori Carson
I barely remembered the drive. My hands shook the whole way.
I was supposed to meet Eason at The Orchid Tea House, but all I wanted to do was turn around and go home.
I just wanted to lock my doors, shut my blinds, and pretend like my world wasn’t collapsing.
But Eason was already waiting. The second I stepped inside, I felt his presence.
His dark eyes locked onto me like a predator spotting prey, scanning every inch of my body until they zeroed in on my throat.
His entire body went still. The playful smirk that usually tugged at his lips was immediately gone.
His jaw flexed, fingers twitching like he was ready to strangle a nigga with his bare hands.
I hesitated for half a second. A half-second too long.
“Who the fuck touched you?” His voice was low, controlled, and deadly.
I took a step back, my heart hammering. “Eason, not here.”
Too late.
He was already moving, already gripping my waist and pulling me in. His touch wasn’t gentle, but it was rough either. It was ownership.
“I asked you a fucking question, Muffin.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse spiking under the weight of his intensity.
“I—”
“Try that shit again,” he cut me off.
My chest tightened. I could feel the heat of his body pressing into mine, his scent wrapping around me, suffocating me in the best way.
“Prime,” I whispered. “He showed up at Aaliyah’s grave.”
His fingers flexed against my waist. “And?”
I exhaled shakily. “He threatened to take Nasir from me. He said I needed to choose between you or my son.”
I barely got the words out before his entire demeanor shifted. Eason went still. Too still. Like a loaded gun waiting to go off. The muscle in his jaw jumped and his nostrils flared. Then, he released a dark and terrifying chuckle that sent a chill down my spine.
“That nigga just signed his death certificate.”
I shook my head, trying to step back. “Eason, please—”
“Nah,” he said, snatching me closer. “You don’t get to walk away from me. Not after telling me that shit.”[MH2][KS3]
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him I needed space, but he wasn’t hearing that shit. His hands were already moving, trailing up my sides before he spun me around, pressing me against the nearest wall.
“You running from me?” His breath was hot against my ear. “Or running from yourself?”
I clenched my jaw, ignoring the way my body reacted to him. “Eason, this is serious—”
“So am I, Muffin.”
His tightened, his lips brushing against my temple like a promise. “You keep acting like you don’t need me, like you don’t want me, but you do. You fucking do.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m scared, Eason.”
“Of what?” His voice softened, but only slightly.
“Of losing myself in you.”
The air shifted between us. Eason pulled back just enough for me to look up at him, his gaze burning into mine. Then, he tilted his head, studying me.
“You think I’m gonna hurt you?”
I didn’t answer. Not because I thought he would. But because I didn’t know if I could handle the way he made me feel.
Eason exhaled through his nose before gripping my chin and tilting my head back. “Come here.”
Before I could even process what was happening, his mouth crashed against mine.
The kiss was hungry and demanding, like he was proving a point.
Like he was erasing every fear, every doubt, and every excuse I had.
I melted against him, my fingers tangling in his dreads, my body pressing into his like I needed to be closer. And I did.
I needed him. And he fucking knew it. In a blink, he had me backed into the tea house bathroom, locking the door behind us.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you need me.”
I couldn’t lie. Not anymore.
“I need you.”
He smirked, lips brushing against mine. “Yeah, baby. I know.”
Then he dropped to his knees. And I forgot how to breathe. The air in the tiny bathroom grew thick with heat and need. His fingers trailed higher, ghosting over my panties before he hooked his fingers in them and yanked them clean off.
“Eason—” My breath hitched, but his hands were already gripping my hips, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
“Shh, Muffin,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against the inside of my thigh. “You already know what the fuck this is.” His tongue flicked out, just once, over my clit and my whole damn soul left my body.
I gasped, damn near collapsing. My hands flew into his dreads, tugging like I needed something to ground me. But that only made him groan against me, that deep rumble vibrating straight through my core.
“That’s it, baby.” He growled, tongue rolling in slow circles before sucking my clit into his mouth. “Let me hear that pretty fucking mouth.”
I whimpered, trying to close my legs but his grip tightened, spreading me even wider.
“You not running from me, Muffin,” he said, licking me like he was starving. “Now when this pussy tastes like heaven. Not when she’s mine.”
He flicked his tongue faster and deeper, dragging me closer to the edge, watching me unravel. My head slammed against the mirror behind me.
“Eason, please—”
“Please what?” he taunted, sliding a thick finger inside me and curling it just right. “Tell daddy what you need.”
I was too far gone to play his game. “I-I need to cum!”
He hummed low and dark, tongue lapping against my clit while that finger kept working me open.
“Then fucking cum for me, Muffin,” he rasped. “Let daddy have all that shit.”
My body locked up as the orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train—loud, violent, and all consuming.
I cried out, my hands pulling his dreads as my hips jerked forward and I came all over his tongue.
But Eason didn’t stop. He kept licking, kept devouring, and taking everything, I gave him until I was damn near shaking in his hold.
By the time he stood, his mouth was glistening, and his smirk was pure fucking sin. “Tastes even better than I imagined,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Without warning, he unbuckled his belt and my mouth went dry.
Big was an understatement. It was thick, long and curved just right, he had a dick of a fucking weapon.
I swallowed hard as my legs instinctively spread wider.
Eason stroked himself slowly, eyes locked on me like he was watching his prey fall apart.
“Oh, you ready now, huh?” he teased.
I nodded, biting my lip.
“Nah, he said darkly, gripping my chin. “Say it.”
“I need you,” I whispered. “I need you inside me.”
His eyes turned to a fucking flame as he closed the space between us. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
With one rough and perfect thrust, he sank into me. I gasped, my eyes rolling back as he stretched me wide, filling every inch of me and then some. It hurt so good I couldn’t stop the whimper that ripped from my throat.
I clenched around him in response, my arms locking around his shoulders. “Move, Eason. Please.”
He grinned and then started to fuck me. His strokes were slow at first then they became deep and possessive, like he was putting his name on every inch of my walls. Every stroke was a promise that I was his, that I belonged to me, and I could never leave him.
And honestly, I didn’t want to. Not when he was hitting every spot like he had my body memorized. Not when the wet sounds of our bodies colliding echoed off the tile. Not when his breath turned ragged and his grip bruised into my thighs.
“Fuuuck, baby,” he groaned, head falling back. “You feel that? This my pussy now.” He growled, slamming into me harder.
My head dropped back, I was already close to my peak again. Eason slid one hand between us and placed his thumb on my clit, rubbing tight circles.
“Cum again, baby. Let daddy feel you.”
And that was all it took before I exploded again. My scream was swallowed by his mouth as he kissed me through it, our bodies tangled, wild, and hungry. By the time he game, growling my name into my mouth, I was limp and clinging to him like I’d never let go.
Eason’s touch was reverent and sure, peeling back the layers I’d kept guarded for so long. His hands guided, claimed, and soothed each motion a vow I felt down to the bone.
He kissed me like a man trying to memorize every part of me.
Like a man determined to silence every fear with each stroke of his hands, every whisper of his breath against my skin.
And I let him. I let myself fall into the moment, let the rush pull me under, let him remind me that I could feel again without breaking.
We didn’t speak. Our bodies did.
The way his grip tightened, the way my fingers curled around him. The way our breaths tangled, uneven and desperate. The way he held me after, arms locked around me like he couldn’t let go—even if he wanted to.
By the time he finally met my gaze again, his eyes were soft. No more teasing. Just truth.
He tucked a loose curl behind my ear and kissed my forehead.
“You’re not alone anymore, Muffin.”
And in that moment, I believed him.
Eason just stayed there for a moment, holding me like something precious. Like I was just another woman, like I was his. And truth is, I was his.