Epilogue
Two Years Later
“Have I told you how proud of you I am?” I asked Malyah as I held her in my arms.
“I think you’ve told me about a hundred times today, but I don’t mind hearing it again, and again, and again.”
“I am so proud of you, baby. You didn’t just graduate at the top of your class; my wife is the muthafuckin’ valedictorian.”
“Period!”
We’d just arrived home from her graduation and snuck down to our apartment for a few minutes to ourselves. Her party would be held in the backyard in about an hour, and once that got started, it would be hours before we’d be alone again.
“You should’ve seen Gramps when they called your name. We had to make him sit down and beg him to quiet down.”
“It’s because of him that I did so well. He’s been such a blessing to me. I can’t thank you enough for sharing him.”
“You say that as if I had a choice. He barely acknowledges me when you’re around.”
“We’re kindred spirits, so he can’t help himself.”
“I know, and if he wasn’t damn near over fifty-five years older than you, I’d be worried.”
“No matter how old anyone is, you’ll never have to worry about losing me. You’re the best friend with benefits I’ve ever had. I love you too much to let you go.”
The past two years were better than I’d ever imagined.
Business was booming and Sweet, Savory, and Goode was doing better than ever, family conflicts were at an all-time low, and my love for Malyah grew deeper with each passing day.
Her innocent eyes still spoke directly to my heart, and I believed she was made just for me.
When she let her guard down and allowed herself to trust me, the magic between us was undeniable.
I often thought back to what my father said about how having someone to build with will bring you the emotional and mental stability needed to be successful.
I didn’t believe him until Malyah came into my life.
On our one-year anniversary, she insisted we tear up the contract. I was surprised but couldn’t find the contract fast enough to tear it to shreds. The fact that she suggested it told me that she finally trusted me, and that meant more than I could ever say.
“That’s good to know because I’m not letting your pretty ass go either. Shit, my wife is a pastry chef. You can’t tell me shit.”
“You know, you’re pretty damn good for my ego,” she said.
We were currently sitting in the center of the couch with her straddling me.
“Oh yeah? What else am I good for?”
“Dropping that good dick off in me.”
Before I could respond, she pressed her lips against mine, slipping her tongue into my mouth. She ground her pussy against my dick, which had been hard since she crawled on top of me.
I lifted the back of her dress over her ass, pleased that she’d decided not to wear panties today. I smacked her naked ass, then caressed it for a moment before repeating the actions several times.
“Baby, my pussy is leaking,” she confessed with her mouth against mine.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I want to sit on it.”
“Sit on what, baby?”
“Your big, thick, black dick.”
“You got it. Do yo’ thang, beautiful.”
She reached between us, fumbled with the waistband of my pants, then pulled my dick out. With it still in her hand, she lifted her lower body and slammed it onto my dick.
“Oh God!” she cried.
“Fuck, baby! You wet as hell!”
I pulled her breasts from the top of her dress, burying my face in them and inhaling her scent. While she held onto the back of the couch for leverage, I alternated licking and sucking her nipples.
“Damn, Lyah. Why you been so fucking wet, baby?”
Her pussy was never short on juices, but she’d been abundantly wet for the past couple of weeks. My head fell back, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head as I enjoyed the feel of her around me.
“Because I’m pregnant.”