Page 65 of The Smoke Hour

“Oh, shit, Smoke. Owhhooo.” She moaned, hooting like a damn owl and shit.

I pumped up into her hard while I sucked and bit that titty. And I knew the moment that she let go. My dick was soaked in her juices, and I could feel her convulsing and relaxing repeatedly.

I gripped her hips, pushed her legs back until her feet touched the headboard, and I tore her little ass up until I shot my seed all inside of her.

“Thank you, ma.”

“For?”

“Loving me.”

“I think I did from the day we met,” she stated happily. “Every time you called me back to The Smoke Hour, I knew thatI couldn’t stay away. I wanted to be wherever you were. If Smoke was there, I wanted to be there too.”

“Remember you said that shit.”

“What?”

“Where there’s Smoke, there’s Fiya.”

She giggled, and I buried my face in the side of her neck, kissing her as I tickled her sides until she shrieked uncontrollably.

Fiya

Three Weeks Later

Ispent more time at Smoke’s house than I did my own. The girls teased me about that all the time, and so did Noel.

“Noel told me he’s thinking about moving Joya into the house with him,” Tamara stated.

She sat at the island, swinging her feet happily while I stacked the dishwasher.

“What?” I asked and spun around.

“Mm-hmm.” Christina was all too happy to chime in from her position beside Tamara.

“He hasn’t said anything to me about it,” I pointed out.

“Well, you haven’t been there in the last three weeks,” Tamara stated.

“Yes, I have. I’ve been there…” I cut myself off as I tried to recall the times I’d been there. “Four times.”

“And not once did you stay overnight,” Christina stated.

“How do you know?”

“Noel told us,” Tamara answered.

I sucked my teeth.

“Does he want me gone?”

“Well, you kinda are already. You’re here all the time,” Christina explained.

“Damn, I’d like to have some say so still.”

“Why?” I turned around upon hearing Smoke’s voice as he walked into the kitchen. I smiled as my baby opened the refrigerator and grabbed a single bottle of Minute Maid orange juice. He twisted the cap off and took a swig.

“Aye! Smoke, go put on a shirt, baby,” I stated and pointed at my friends. Their eyes were glued to his tattooed chest.

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