by C C Monroe
“Spread your legs and stick your beautiful ass out, baby.” Even more unsure of where he’s going with this, I separate my legs and thrust my ass out, making contact with his covered erection. I feel it nudge between my lips and it ignites a bolt of electricity through my blood. I hear him drop to his knees, then I feel his thumbs spread me open and his hot tongue on my core.
Oh my God!
Looking down, I see how he positioned himself. He crawled between my legs and is sitting straight up with his back against the counter, eating me with a deprived hunger. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever done with him. Lifting his arm up, he palms my breast, massaging it gently. I grip the counter tighter and throw my head back on a loud moan. I feel a rush of cold air hit my core when I lose his mouth. Looking down quickly to see why he stopped his pleasing torture on me, I see he’s gazing up at me.
“You need to be quiet, baby, your brother’s still here,” he says before nipping the inside of my thigh with his teeth. My knees buckle and I shiver, this feels incredible, being carnal and open with each other. That’s the beautiful thing about sex. It’s always made out to be forbidden or looked down upon, unless you’re married. I have to completely disagree; I think love and sex are the most passionate things to share with someone. You can completely be lost in each other, become one and not know where they start or you begin. The act of becoming one with Trey is something I never knew would mean a great deal to me the way it does now.
He finds my clit again and rubs his tongue in hard circular motions, then adds two fingers inside my wet entrance.
“You’re so tight, I need to fill you again. You need something big to hold onto, you’re clinging to my fingers, baby.”
“I need it, Trey, please stop playing with me, take me to bed and make love to me,” I plead with desperation.
“Come on my tongue, then I’ll take you to bed and let you come all over my big cock.”
His tongue hits my clit with a few more hard lashes, and it’s my undoing. I orgasm on his tongue, my juices filling his mouth, and the whole time we’re making eye contact.
After I come down from my orgasm, I slowly back away, still not having complete mobility in my legs. He leans his back against the counter and matches my gaze. He’s licks his lips, which still glisten with my arousal. My nipples peak again at the sight in front of me.
“Look at you, your face flushed with desire, your sexy lean legs that I want to wrap around me.” He bites his lip and pulls his sleep pants down just enough for his cock to spring free. I look over the veins that line his long shaft and the pre-cum sitting on the tip.
“You’re beautiful, heavy tits that I can’t wait to watch bounce while I pound into you. That lean, sexy stomach, your tan skin is my own personal paradise. You just walk around here begging for me to take you every which way I can.”
I don’t say anything, I can’t say anything, I’m so turned on and desperate for all this attention I’ve been deprived of that I can’t formulate a coherent sentence. All I can do is watch him assail my body with his eyes, watch him stroke himself to the sight of me, and hear all the things he’s missed about me.
“Turn around so I can see that fucking heart-shaped ass, baby, that shit is fucking lethal.” He lifts his chin in the air, signaling me to turn around. I slowly turn, making sure my legs cross and stick my ass out and up. His favorite thing in the world is my ass, I swear. He loves curves, he’s a butt and boob man. Luckily, I’m gifted in both departments.
“Look back at me, watch me come, beautiful.” Tossing my hair to one side and placing my chin on my shoulder, I bite my lip and watch his hooded eyes look me over. He picks up his strokes, and right when he comes he makes eye contact with me.
“Fuck, Shayla!” My stomach flips when he says my name, our eye contact never breaking. I wait a few moments enjoying the rise and fall of his chest, the lip caught between his teeth as he slows down his strokes before finally stopping.
I hand him a towel so he can clean himself up. Standing, he bends and wraps his arms around my waist, his lips finding mine. Moving his hand from its spot, he moves it lower until he has a handful of my ass in his grip.
“You make me fucking crazy, you know that? Seriously, you’re so fucking addicting.”
“I can’t be that addicting.” I lean back and let his lips kiss along my jawline.
“Shayla, I can’t touch you without getting hard, I can’t look at you without thinking about you screaming my name while under me. When I touch you, I’m not close enough, I need to be consumed by you.” My heart skips a beat with his admission; it’s beautiful and exactly what I’ve been dying to hear. I lift my arms, wrapping them around his neck, and jump up so he can carry me to the bedroom.
“I need you to show me how much you need me,” I whisper, biting his earlobe while he carries us to the bed. I feel his erection bobbing up and down against my wet core as we walk, intensifying my desire. Lying me back on the bed, he completely removes his pants in a quick swipe and then he’s back on me. His face inches from mine. I bring my hand to his hair, sweeping it back and out of his eyes so I can see him. My knees are spread and he’s sitting between them, his cock slightly pushed against my entrance. I lean over and reach into my nightstand, searching for the condoms Lana gave me as a gag joke this Christmas. He sees me pull one out causing his brows to draw up.
I know I have a very small window to get pregnant, which I doubt will happen due to my recent diagnosis, but I stopped the birth control, and I guess a part of me is still a skeptic. Wishful thinking, maybe.
“What’re you doing, we don’t need the condom.” I shift uncomfortably. He goes back to making work on my neck, his beard scratching against my sensitive skin. I feel him lightly push the tip of his wide, long cock inside my tight entrance and my eyes roll back. God, that feels good. But I need to set my hormones aside for a second and let logic take over. I pull my head away, making his lips part from my neck. Lifting his head up, he looks at me, perplexed.
“What, baby?”
“I haven’t taken my pill this week, we need to use protection,” I tell him, my body clearly tense and my eyes shifting anywhere but his. I hope he doesn’t ask why I haven’t taken my pill. I can’t take another in-depth discussion about all the crap wrong in our lives. I just want to forget everything and make love to my best friend.
“Why haven’t you taken it?” he asks with a small smile as he pushes another inch into me, making us both sigh.
“I’ve been so busy, and I forgot to take it,” I lie, receiving another inch.
“I can pull out.” Another inch.
“Trey, we need to use protection,” I say, trying to keep my brain from fogging up with raging hormones.
“I need to be in you bare, baby, I haven’t had you around my cock in over a week, there’s no way I’m letting any barrier come between us.” He finishes his sentence and then pounds up into me. My vision tunnels and I see black dots when he hits me against my cervix. I feel completely full.
“Oh, yeah. My fucking woman.” He moans, dropping his head to my chest. We’re finally connected again after this catastrophic week, and now that we are, it all disappears. With each hard, pleasurable thrust, a sad thought is gone and replaced with us, connected again. It feels way too good to stop what we’ve started.
“Tell me you love me,” he moans into my ear, his hot breath spreading across the column of my neck.
“I love you,” I reply as he grabs onto my outer thigh, lifting me against his hip so he can thrust harder and deeper into me.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me.” My eyes well with tears as I hear the disconnect in his voice. He’s still suffering. Though I already knew it, now he is showing it.
Maybe it was his dad dying and more, like me reacting negatively to his mother coming back, or just the emotional disconnect we’ve faced the past seven days. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I know he needs this just as much as I do. I let the tears slip from the cor
ners of my eyes and slide into my hair on the sides of my face. I answer his question.
“I promise to love you, Trey, and fight like hell to never lose you,” I state firmly past the lump in my now dry throat. He pounds into me harder, with purpose, when I feel something wet hit my left breast. Looking up, I see he’s hiding his face from me, turning to face the headboard at our side. I don’t care if he sees me crying, I lift his head, unafraid of my tears. His blue eyes are red and wet; I see his tear-stained cheek. We’re both crying, crying for the loss of his father, for the loss of his best friend, and for the future where his father will no longer be. I’m crying over the pain that he’s feeling, the pain I can’t erase or even make better. I’m still mourning the loss of who we were before his dad died, scared that we may never get it back. This isn’t just sex, this is a declaration of love and the shadow of a promise that we’re about to face hell. A hell that we may go into together, but one we may not come out of together.
His thrusts become quick and hard as we both stare into each other’s eyes, searching for some kind of sign that we’re both here, that this isn’t a dream.
“I’m gonna come,” he moans, reaching down to pull out.
“Come in me, Trey,” I tell him, reaching down and grabbing his ass. I push down, not letting him pull out. I want him to plant his seed in me, fill me with his cum; I want our connection to be whole.
“Fuck, I’m coming, beautiful, come with me.” Already one step ahead, I let my body have what it wants and my heart what it desires. Trey Joseph Adams.
“Fill me with your cum, take all of me, Trey.” He shoots inside of me, warming me. He grabs both of my hands and places them above my head, our intertwined fingers lock and he keeps pounding into me.
“I need to come again, baby.” I’m shocked that he can still come after a third time, but I don’t stop him, it feels amazing.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he says, biting his lip and pushing our hands farther into the bed as an anchor.
“I want this every day for the rest of my life. I want you forever, Trey Adams.” I moan, wrapping my legs tighter around him and clenching tightly around his cock.
“You want this forever? You want to be my wife, baby?” he asks with a full smile lighting up his face. The first real, genuine smile he has shown me in days.
I nod my head, because I do, I want to marry this man. I don’t care if it’s been a few months, I’ve known Trey for almost my entire life, I know that God put him in my path for a reason and who am I to deny God’s plan?
“Yes,” I confess. He smiles.
“Soon I’ll be taking you in this bed as my wife.”
That’s the last thing he says before we both come for the third time.
We lie wrapped in each other for hours until I doze off. We will need to work at moving past this loss, tirelessly, with everything we have, to make sure we heal with time and with each other. I pray this hell I fear coming is just that—fear and never a reality.
Trey
TWO MONTHS LATER
“TELL ME WHY YOU HAVE a hard time trusting your mother?” I look at the therapist in front of me. Her brown hair is cut short with zero style to it. Her pantsuits all look the same, especially the black one she’s wearing today. I don’t think dresses or any other type of clothes in her closet see the light of day. For a couple months, Gwen and I have been seeing Dr. Moore, in hopes we can rebuild our relationship after eighteen years apart.
I wanted to try, not only for me, but also for my dad. I know he wanted me to forget the past and part of that is by way of therapy. Some days I let doubt creep in and push my her away, and others, I find renewed hope to let her in. She’s been trying really hard to be in my life. Spending a ton of time dedicated to making amends for what she did. It’s a start, right?
Pops still lingers in my mind daily, the pain still ever present. It’s been two months, as of yesterday, since he passed. I have slowly begun to heal, I repeat—slowly. I started drowning myself in work and Shayla when she lets me. This past month has been fucking hell, everything was fine, then one day she got distant, keeping me at arm’s length for no damn reason. I thought it was because of Gwen, but it seems more serious than that. Something isn’t right.
“I trust her, I just have a hard time understanding why she’s coming back now. Why, during those eighteen years, was our relationship not a priority?” Avoiding direct eye contact, I let the question hang in the balance and wait for her to answer. I look over at the clock and see it’s just after five. My eyes travel the dark gray walls that are covered in her fancy degrees and expensive art that I know I’m funding with the ridiculous amount of money I pay for these sessions.
“What do you have to say to that, Gwen?” She gestures to her, adjusting her black-framed glasses. I let my eyes hone in on her finally, curious to hear her answer. This is the first time we’re talking about this. We spend one day a week here, and so far, we have had to talk about our lives apart. What I made of my life, the things that her leaving affected, and so on. Then I had to hear about her life without my dad and me. She surprisingly showed a ton of emotion, opening up and declaring her love for me. Apologizing for the years she spent away. Our hardest session to date was when I brought up the letter I found that she left me before she disappeared. I couldn’t cry, I was too angry, and in some ways, seeing her cry made me feel better— vindicated. She hurt me, and I needed to see that she felt the burn.
“I know I was absent for so long, but when I heard about Charles, I knew I needed to step up and be the mother that I failed to be all those years ago.” I keep my gaze on my mother, concentrating on what she’s saying. I look nothing like her. Her dark hair and dark eyes are completely opposite to my blond hair and blue eyes. I look one hundred percent like my dad. Pops. I still can’t even think about him without feeling a tinge of pain.
“Did you not love me or miss me? Did you only come back because it was the right thing to do?” I question her, adjusting my leg on top of my opposite knee. Her head whips to mine and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Of course I missed you, I may have made bad choices in my life, but I have always loved you, Trey.” She sounds so fucking sincere, making me feel a little bit more confident in letting her in my life.
One day at a time.
“What steps have we made outside of this room to start mending your relationship?” Dr. Moore asks before jotting down some notes on her yellow notepad. I wonder what the hell she says in that thing about me.
“We started having lunch together once a week, but that’s it. His girlfriend isn’t a fan of me.” I watch her eyes drop to her fidgeting hands in her lap, and I instantly think of Shayla. I miss her and ever since Gwen’s been in the picture, she and I don’t talk much about it. I know she doesn’t trust her; she doesn’t have to hide it from me, I can tell whenever she comes over or when I talk about the sessions. Shayla stays quiet and just listens to me.
Shayla has been finding excuses to not stay at my place or vice versa lately. Top that off, I haven’t touched or tasted her skin in over a month. If it weren’t for me jerking off every day I would be up to my eyes in semen. I feel that strong ache pull in my body when I think about her. I need to take her away or something so we can reconnect. I can’t say what the breaking point was really, just day after day we grew further and further apart. It fucking kills me that I’m not in sync with my woman the way I need to be.
“Rightfully so, she thinks Gwen isn’t here for the right reasons,” I state, lifting my shoulders and running my hand along my faded, fitted jeans.
“What reason is that?” Dr. Moore turns her attention on me.
“I don’t know, she doesn’t know either, she just doesn’t trust her.”
“That’s not fair, I’ve been nothing but kind to her and she chooses to treat me like garbage. I’m your mother, Trey.” My hand is now clenched in a tight fist against my thigh.
“Yeah, and I may be wanting to try and
work this out, but she’s my woman and I put her above everyone, even you. So you can learn to accept it and give her time to accept you or you can forget this whole thing.” I cut an imaginary thin line in the air, signaling the end of this conversation. I won’t budge on this, it may hurt me that the two women in my life can’t get along, but my little woman is my world and I side with her, when it’s rational. Right now, she’s just protecting me. Just like I did with Evan, so I owe it to her to be patient and understanding.
“I want her to like me, Trey, I couldn’t ask for a better woman for my son, and I want to be a part of her life, too.” She looks conflicted, looking from Dr. Moore to me. I stay mute, not sure what to say. I can’t budge on this, and I would love for Gwen and Shayla to get along. But I can’t and won’t force it on Shayla, she’ll come around when she’s ready.
“My dad”—I swallow thickly, reining myself in, I don’t want to cry—”told me to forgive you if I ever had the chance, and I do. So, be patient and worry only about our relationship. Leave Shayla out of this.” I thought that all the years that I hated my mother, that her coming back into my life would have needed a little more fight, but I did this all for my father. Now that he’s gone, I want to, now more than ever, do all the things he asked me to do, follow through on all the promises I made. Little by little I’m doing just that and it starts with Gwen.
“I agree, right now you two should focus on your relationship and let everyone else come when you two are ready. Also, I think this is a good place to end for the day, we can meet next week and start from there.” Dr. Moore stands and we follow suit, walking out the door and making our way to the open elevator.