Page 8 of Saint Baptiste 2

So, I did.

The minute I swiped my tongue from the crack of her ass, down to that pretty little slit in her pussy, I groaned. Got damn she tasted good. She moaned. Grabbed the back of my head and gyrated her hips. Instead of pushing her hand away, I let her have her way. Let her take control. Wanted her to feed me. Five minutes in, she was shaking and gushing all over me again. Did I back away? Of course not. I stayed there until she was finished.

Once she was done, I pulled back with soft delicate kisses. A nigga was feverish. Almost didn’t want to stop. But... my dick. Shit was brick. It was so got damn hard it hurt.

That slide in was immaculate.

I relished in it. Sat there with my eyes closed. She tried to move. I grabbed her hips. Wanted her to stay still. She was warm, wet, tight. The way she hugged me. Fuck. The way she hugged me. I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to let go. But time... time was fickle. I had taken up enough. I had shit to do. The night couldn’t end here. As bad as I wanted it to, I knew it couldn’t. So, I stroked.

And she moaned. Dug her nails into my back and pulled me closer. I laid on top of her, hiked her legs up and slid in deeper. Balls deep. She arched her back. I attacked her neck and brushed my hand over the top of her head. Her eyes were closed again. This time, I didn’t have to tell her to open them; she just did. And we connected… deeper than before.

There was something vaguely different about entering her tonight. It wasn’t about time slipping away from us. Time didn’t exist. It was something else. It was... that connection. It was potent. We were in sync. Almost as if we were one. I wondered if she felt it. If she could sense what I sensed. She felt it. Had to.

For the first time in my life, I was making love. There was a different rhythm to my stroke. A sensuality I didn’t know I possessed. A certain type of passion I didn’t know I could deliver. I was always a passionate nigga. I cared about making the women I laid with feel good. But this was different. This was absolute devotion. This was intimacy on a completely different level.

Her eyes filled with tears. And before one could fall, I reached over and brushed my thumb underneath her bottom lid. She closed her eyes and leaned into my touch. When her lips touched my hand, they moved. She didn’t speak. But the words she mouthed brushed against the creases of my palm, eloquently delivering words neither of us were ready to speak aloud.

I love you too, cheri.

About thirty minutes later, I was pulling into my driveway, and she was asleep, snoring right beside me. After we finished at Pandora’s, we showered in the connecting bathroom in silence. Didn’t go for another round. Didn’t talk about what happened. Just showered, threw the same shit back on and left. There was no tension. Just... a lot of fucking uncertainty lingering in the air. It only got worse on the ride down to the lobby. She was timid and antsy. The confidence that drew people in had diminished. When we got in the car, I didn’t play any music and she didn’t ask me to. She covered herself with her coat, reclined the chair and closed her eyes. She was out about five minutes into the trip. Shit was crazy but I appreciated silence over yelling.

After shifting the car into park and killing the engine, I leaned back against the headrest and just watched her. I didn’t want to wake her. Wanted to keep her just the way she was. Softly snoring and oblivious to reality. I was afraid that ‘tomorrow’ would come before sunrise and the illusion would dissipate. I wanted to bask in it. I only had a few hours before evidence of the new day would greet us. Waking her risked losing those hours. Hours could quickly turn into seconds and... I wasn’t ready. I never wanted time to end with Naoki.

She stirred a little. And then, she stirred a lot. And I waited. With a racing heart full of anticipation. Seconds later, she opened her eyes.

“What?” She groggily asked before sitting up to stretch. “Why are you staring at me like that? I have to pee. Where we at?”

My eyebrows shot up a little with surprise. “The crib,” I nonchalantly replied before undoing my seatbelt to reach over into the backseat for food I picked up on the way.

She yawned. “The crib? Who’s crib?”

I grabbed my phone, and opened the car door before saying, “Mine.”

She was quiet. Most likely thrown by us being at my house instead of hers. We never spent time at my place. I could count on one hand how many times she’d been to my spot. Any time she’d ask why we were always at her house, the excuse would be convenience. She worked a lot of hours, all of her work clothes were at her house, and she didn’t live but about ten minutes away from the hospital. Realistically, I made it seem that way because I didn’t want her in my space. Kept her out of it because I didn’t want what happened, to happened. Didn’t want her to get too close to me. Didn’t want feelings to get involved. But shit, look at how that turned out. Now, in my space was the only place I wanted her. Damn near wanted to snatch her out the whip and chain her ass to the bed.

The puzzled look on her face really had a nigga considering it, low key.

Jerking my head toward the opened door, I said, “Come on. I grabbed some coney on the way.”

At the mention of coney, she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out.

Smirking, I climbed out right after.

If it was one way to lure her ass in, it was with food. Coney especially. When we first met, she had a certain air about her. Elegance, femininity, and confidence oozed from her pores. I learned quick that she was nothing like any of the women I fucked with before her. She was a force. A take charge woman who went after what she wanted, set the ground rules, and demanded respect without having to make demands at all. But as time passed, we grew closer, and I got to know the real her. Who she hid behind that confidence, femininity, and elegance. Bit by bit, piece by piece, she let me in. Against her will, mostly. The walls she put up started to crumble, and I learned that she was a hood bitch at the core. One that couldn’t resist a good ass hood meal every now and then.

I hit the garage closer on the wall with my elbow and handed her the bag of food before unlocking the garage door into the house. When we made it inside, she sat the bag on the door-table, hung her coat up and slipped out of her shoes. A warm sensation of contentment washed over me. Told me I could chill. I could breathe easy. She was comfortable. She was good. We were good.

After putting my coat away and coming out of my shoes, I followed her down the short hallway that led into the connecting kitchen. Once we walked in, I hit the light switch and joined her at the island. She stood on one side, I stood on the other. The house was dead silent, with the exception of low humming coming from the refrigerator.

I dug into the bag and slid her tray of food and plastic wear over to her. She caught it, opened it, and glanced up at me with a light smile.

“Cheese fries light chili; just the way you like it,” I told her.

She glanced up at me with a snicker. “Chili fries with extra cheese, thank you very much.”

“Extra cheese on top and bottom. Might as well be cheese soup, cheri,” I countered.

“Whatever,” She said with a light laugh. “It’s not that much cheese.”

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