Page 46 of Session 33

She intertwined our fingers and started pulling me towards the door.

As we left the party together, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was making another mistake, but I kept walking anyway.

I woke up immediately knowing I wasn’t where I was supposed to be and that the long brown body lying next to me naked in bed wasn’t Angel’s. The guilt about that was gnawing at me like a rabid dog, and it should have sent my ass running home. But I couldn’t deny the relief that came with waking up next to somebody who wanted me there. Angel’s absence was a void, but this—this was something different.

This was Ciara, the girl from before everything was fucked up. Back in college, before my pops killed my mom, Ciara was one of the few women I actually liked. She was long and lean, pretty in a way that was my usual type. No one knew about her, not even Jonas. Confident. She didn’t ask questions. She had no expectations of me. We were fucking around for about a year and a half.

I stared at the ceiling as my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Angel hadn’t answered my calls in days, and now she wanted to talk. I ignored it. I had more immediate concerns.

I turned to her, about to tell her she needed to go, but she cut me off, straddling me. Naked, she ran her hand up her flat stomach, then cupped her breasts. They were perfect. Big hard nipples, areolas a couple shades darker than her brown skin. She was so wet her bare pussy glistened. Before I could react, she grabbed a condom, rolled it onto my already hard dick, and sank down with a slow, deliberate motion. My guilt was momentarily drowned out by the sensation of sliding to the back of her pussy. I let out a groan.

Afterward, as she lay next to me, I knew I had to tell her I needed to go. But she cut me off again.

“Take me to breakfast,” she said, her tone firm. She wasn’t asking—she was telling me. That’s what I liked about Ciara. I didn’t have to guess.

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t refuse her. “Alright, give me a minute to shower and get dressed.”

She giggled.

I pushed myself up out of bed. At least ten condoms littered the hotel floor. I groaned. I had really fucked up, but there wasn’t shit I could do about it now.

After a short shower, as I pulled on my clothes, my phone vibrated again. I shoved it into my pocket, determined to deal with it later. We stepped out of the high-end hotel, and the morning sun was doing its big one, damn near blinding me. Ciara’s big-body Benz was waiting outside. She linked her arm through mine. “You drive. Take me somewhere expensive with alcohol,” she said, laughing, as the valet handed me her keys. His eyes trailed her body, getting stuck on her round, bouncing ass. It felt good not to care that he was looking. I would’ve tried to knock his fucking eyes out of his head if he looked at Angel like that.

Over breakfast, she started telling me about her life since we last saw each other. “I became a nurse, you know. It’s been challenging, but I love it.”

I nodded, half-listening as she spoke. Her voice was background noise; my mind was elsewhere.

“I missed you, Cassius. I thought about you a lot.”

I nodded. “I’m proud of you, Ciara,” I said, meaning it, instead of lying and saying I missed her. Now that I thought about it, I really hadn’t. “You always had a drive about you.”

She smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “And what about you? How have you been?”

I hesitated, not sure how to explain the mess that was my life. “It’s been… complicated.” Ciara didn’t know the new me.

Her eyes softened. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I nodded, but before I could say anything more, my phone vibrated again. Ciara’s eyes flicked to the phone on the table.

“Who’s Angel?” she asked, probing.

I froze, my mind racing. “Nobody,” I lied, hoping she wouldn’t push further.

Ciara raised an eyebrow but didn’t press it. She started reminiscing about our nights at the strip club, the wild parties, and the spontaneous trips overseas.

“You remember our trip to the Dominican Republic?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with nostalgia. “That was one of the best times of my life.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that was wild. We almost got kicked out of the hotel.”

“Good times,” she said, her laughter loud enough to draw a few eyes.

After breakfast, I walked her to her car.

My phone buzzed again, and Ciara glanced at me, curiosity in her eyes. “Who keeps calling you? Who am I keeping you from?”

“Nobody important,” I said. She was so fucking important; I was just treating her like she wasn’t.

Ciara sighed. “You seem stressed. Why don’t you come spend some time with me in Miami? It’d be just like old times.”

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