Page 38 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

“Papo, lay off my woman, she’s not your Gracie pooh…” said the third man, who looked like danger and sex on two long legs. His New York accent was tinged with something else, and I knew he was a fellow Dominican without having to ask.

“Here you go, you promise not to be on that bullshit,” Grace growled, and the three other men laughed.

“You should have never dated this fool,” Orlando said and turned around to find me standing by the entrance of the living room. Suddenly, seeing all their expectant faces, I felt completely out of place. This was Orlando’s environment, and I didn’t quite fit in it.

“Who is this?” Grace approached me with a big smile.

“Hello, I am Trinidad, I am—”

“Oh shit, we know who you are, Ms. V,” the first man said, and Orlando elbowed his friend so quickly I would have missed it if my attention wasn’t on him.

“You do, huh? I hope all good things. What is your name?” I asked the girl first, who bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to take flight. She could be Black Tinkerbell in the live action film if they ever did one.

“I am Grace, that’s Trevor—” she pointed at the loudmouth “—and that is Desmond,” Grace finished with an annoyed tone as she pointed at Dominican Papi Chulo.

“Hey y’all, I’m Trinidad, even though it seems that is common knowledge; I’m gonna go upstairs, work a bit, and give you time to catch up. See y’all tomorrow!” I turned around and bounded up the stairs, hoping Orlando wouldn’t follow.

No such luck. His steps reverberated heavier than mine behind me. Lean my ass; the man was pure mass. I’d learned that fact this week. Why I thought otherwise, I would never know. I reached my door just as Orlando’s warmth caressed my back. I wanted to lean back and let him hold me, and kiss my neck and…

“Trinidad…what’s up? I thought we were all going to the yacht party tonight. And why don’t you wanna hang out?” Orlando asked, his hushed tone full of hurt.

With nowhere to escape, I turned around to him, wanting the conversation to be over.

“That is what you came for, to have fun with your friends who are your same age.”

“We are ten years apart, not fifty. I thought we were past this.”

“If all of us were in school, you would be in third grade while I would have been a high school senior, not even in the same building.” I gestured downstairs to the bickering and laughter floating around the house.

Orlando’s widening glance was all I needed to open my door, but he was right behind me.

“Please, you said we would both enjoy this time, together.” His deep grumble started melting my reserve.

“That’s not fair; that was before your band of merry thieves arrived.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I am confusing stories—Robin Hood, Peter Pan…who cares? Listen, I want you to have fun, and catering to me, making sure I’m good, and catching every reference from your tight group is not going to be fun.”

“Why don’t you let me determine what is fun for me?” Orlando said with a deceptively calm voice. Suddenly, the very large and comfortable room felt small. The calming walls with their rich buttery colors didn’t soothe me. My pulse raced as I walked back toward the wall until Orlando was a breath away from me. He’d moved so smoothly I hadn’t had time to react to anything but his alluring cologne and sultry warmth. The heat outside might feel suffocating, but this heat, the one we created together, felt incendiary.

“Don’t do that, Trinidad; we both have promised to let go…let things flow, right?” Orlando asked, his eyes settling a little lower than my eyes. My lips tingled, remembering how great he tasted last night. I wanted to try again, taste him once more, and see if this time he would taste spicy, like cinnamon and nutmeg from the spiced bun. He didn’t keep me waiting long; our mouths melded together, knowing exactly what to do. His hands were everywhere: my locs, my neck, my collarbone. Every single path of his fingers left a trail of goose bumps behind.

I moaned into his mouth, happy to taste the cinnamon and fruity flavors of the bun we ate earlier along with the essence of man, arousal, and need. A need so deep I couldn’t help pushing off the wall and rubbing my body against his, to chase away the pool of desire that had settled in my core since yesterday.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this since the last time I kissed you,” he said between breaths, and I chuckled into his mouth. I sucked his tongue, and that earned me a loud, needy moan from him. I needed to elicit that same exact noise again. My pussy agreed wholeheartedly. His hands traveled down my neck to the cleavage of my dress, and he paused, his deep brown orbs hypnotizing me.

“Can I touch you here?” Orlando asked, and I nodded desperately, my locs dragging against the wall. Orlando didn’t wait for another second; he yanked the cleavage down until one of my breasts bobbed out, the cool air and the sweet arousal he created coaxing my nipple to full attention.

For a second, I froze. He hadn’t seen grown woman titties before. These ladies had some extra miles he wasn’t familiar with. Some extra swag and sag, as Miranda would say. But based on how he reacted to the sight, all tension left my body. The first touch of his finger on my skin galvanized me, and I undulated against him, his hardness settling against my belly. He realized what I was searching for and lowered himself enough for the contact between our private parts to match perfectly. He caressed and plumped and played with my breast until so much wetness gathered between my legs I grew desperate.

“Shhh, I know what you need.” He moved again until he pressed his thigh between where I needed him the most. The pressure he created was perfect, and like a needy cat, I rubbed myself against him, pulling him down for another kiss.

The pressure built inside, his hard thigh the perfect ally in my climb to ecstasy.

“Go ahead, Ms. V, get yours; I’m right here,” Orlando whispered next to my ear, his lush mouth pressed against my earlobe, then settled in my neck, licking and sucking while I dry humped him.

No way past me would ever believe this was possible. Me, Trinidad Velasquez, a thirty-five-year-old mother and wholesome woman, dry humping with the most alluring, gorgeous twenty-five-year-old. It didn’t hurt that Orlando was beautiful inside and out, and something in him kept calling to something in me.

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