Page 32 of The Black Wife Blessing

The kitchen counter digs into my back, but I barely notice. All my focus is on her, on the way her body fits perfectly against mine, on the soft sounds she makes as I trail kisses down her neck.

I pull away just enough to look into her eyes. They’re dark, pupils blown wide with desire. “Tell me to stop, Monica,” I murmur, my voice ragged. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Don’t stop, Henry.”

That’s all I need to hear. I scoop her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carry her to the couch. I lower her down gently, never breaking the kiss. She pulls me down with her, her hands exploring my body, sending shivers down my spine.

I guide her hands above her head, pinning them there with one of mine. Her back arches, pressing her closer to me. I can feel her heart racing, matching the rhythm of my own.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask, one last time.

She nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’m sure, Henry. I want you.”

And with that, I let go of all restraint, giving in to the desire that’s been building between us for weeks.

I pull away from our kiss, my breath ragged, eyes locked onto hers. Monica's chest heaves, her lips swollen from our passion. I reach for the hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it up and over her head, revealing her smooth, dark skin. I can't help but pause, taking her in.

"You're stunning, Monica," I murmur, my voice thick with desire. Her eyes meet mine, vulnerable and sexy. I unclasp her bra, letting it fall away, and I'm rewarded with the sight of her full breasts, brown nipples already hardened with anticipation.

I quickly shed my own shirt, her eager hands helping me. Her fingers trace the lines of my tattoos on my upper shoulder, a secret rebellion against my family's expectations, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I capture her hands, pinning them behind her back as I dip my head, taking one of her nipples into my mouth. She gasps, arching into me, and I lavish attention onher sensitive flesh before moving to the other, drawing out a soft moan from deep within her.

Releasing her hands, I trail mine down to the waistband of her jeans, unbuttoning them swiftly. She lifts her hips, helping me as I slide them off, leaving her in nothing but a thin scrap of lace. I run my fingers along the edge, teasing her, before slipping my hand inside.

She's wet, so fucking wet, and I growl in approval. "Is this all for me?" I ask, my voice low and demanding. She nods, biting her lip, and I can't help but steal another kiss, my fingers stroking her folds, spreading her wetness.

I find her clit, circling it lightly, making her squirm beneath me. Her hands grasp at my shoulders, her nails digging in as I slip two fingers inside her. She's tight, her walls clamping down on me, and I can't wait any longer.

I withdraw my fingers, bringing them to my mouth, tasting her. Her eyes widen, pupils blown with desire. I undo my belt, pushing my pants and boxers down, freeing my cock. It's hard, aching for her. I stroke myself, teasing her, running the tip along her wetness.

"Henry," she pleads, her voice barely a whisper. I position myself at her entrance, pushing in just slightly, teasing us both. Her eyes flutter closed, her breath hitching. I lean down, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss as I thrust into her, burying myself deep inside her warmth.

I set a steady rhythm, each thrust drawing out a soft gasp from deep within Monica. She wraps her legs around me, pulling me closer, her heels digging into my lower back. The sensation is intoxicating, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

"Henry," she whispers, her voice barely audible, yet filled with a raw intensity that sends shivers down my spine. "You feel so good."

Her words spur me on, and I lean down, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. I can taste the desire on her, the need that matches my own. I trail my hand down her body, my fingers finding her clit, circling it lightly as I continue to thrust into her.

"Oh, God," she moans, her body arching into mine. "I love this, Henry. I love—" Her words cut off as she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. I can feel her tightening around me, her body on the brink.

I increase the pressure on her clit, my thrusts becoming more urgent. Her breath hitches, and then she's crying out, her body convulsing around me as she comes hard. The sight of her, the feel of her, is too much. I thrust into her once more, burying myself deep inside her as I find my own release.

A low groan escapes me as I come, the sensation overwhelming. I collapse against her, my forehead resting on hers as we both struggle to catch our breath. Her arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I can feel the rapid beat of her heart against my chest.

We lie there for a moment, our bodies still joined, our breaths syncing. I can feel the contentment washing over me, a sense of rightness that I haven't felt in a long time. I press a soft kiss to her lips, feeling a sense of peace settle over me.

"That was... intense," she murmurs, her voice soft and satisfied. I can't help but smile, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her skin.

"Intense is good," I reply, my voice low and filled with satisfaction. I can feel her smile against my neck, her body relaxed and sated beneath me. At this moment, everything feels right. Everything feels perfect. And I don't want to be anywhere else but here, with her.

23

MONICA

Ilean back in my chair, watching Henry sip his bourbon across the table. The restaurant hums with quiet conversation and the clink of silverware against fine china. Something about the warm candlelight catching in his eyes makes me feel... safe.

"This place is incredible," I say, running my finger along the rim of my wine glass. "Though I'm definitely critiquing every dish in my head."

Henry laughs. "Professional hazard?"

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