Page 146 of Real's Love

And of course, I obeyed. “I’m yours, Targen. I…”

The power of speech left me. My eyes swept closed. And above me, he whispered, ‘Good girl,milaya. Now, cum.”

So, I did.

I imagined I was a screaming, weeping, red-faced mess, and I didn’t give a damn. This felt…hefelt incredible. I clung to him long minutes later when he started to pull away.

“I’m about to cum, soon, baby. No protection?—”

I held him tighter. “You said you were my protection. I don’t need… I don’twantto be protected from you.”

He kissed me hard. Rode me harder.

“That’s how I want you, too. No latex, no distance, no secrets, nothing between us,” he murmured.

I held him close. “Then, cum inside, Targen,” I invited huskily.

So, he did.

One indicationof how deeply country I remained was my love of local festivals and the carnivals that came with them. Our family reunion fell during Emancipation’s Pecan Festival, and many of us were going this Saturday evening. There was a funnel cake with my name written on it. Even though Real and I were caught up in a sort of awkward truce, I wanted him to come see my town on brightly-lit, quickly spinning display. I walked out of my room and crossed the hall to his. The door was half open.

I peeked in to see Real sprawled across the bed, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. I paused, taking in the sight of him, my uncertainty momentarily softened by the familiar pull of attraction. I bit my lip as my gaze traveled over his fine ass. He wanted to lie here looking all irresistible like this and think I wasn’t gon’ try him? Oh, this was war.

I slid onto the bed, my hands trailing over his skin with a deliberate slowness, my lips brushing against his ear.

Real stirred, a sleepy frown creasing his forehead. “Love, what the hell?” he mumbled, eyes blinking open, confusion giving way to realization.

My smile was all challenge. “Reminding you of what you’re missing,” I murmured.

Real sat up, a fake gasp escaping him as he clutched a lilac throw against his broad chest. “If you don’t get yo’ lil’ fast ass away from me, I’ll scream,” he threatened dramatically.

I fell back on the bed. “Are we really still on this?” I whined. “I told you I’d think about it, Montréal!”

Lifting himself, he hovered over me and pressed a soft kiss against my forehead. “You better think fast, Love,” he said before standing and disappearing from the room.

I pulled a pillow over my face, refusing to let him hear my frustrated scream.

* * *

We didn’t even get two booths in before I was eyeing the big stuffed animals longingly. Real noticed my pause in front of a garishly glowing basketball stand. My gaze landed on a pale orange bear and determination spread through me. I reached for my crossbody bag.

“I wish the hell you would,” Real said.

I shrugged. “You can pay, but I got this.”

He scoffed before turning to talk to the guy running the booth. Twenty-five dollars; fifteen shots; he had to make twelve for the extra-large prizes.

“Watch this,” he told me smugly.

I watched all right—watched him make nine shots and watched the carnival employee hand me a blue elephant.

“Pay him again,” I demanded. “And watch me work.”

Real chuckled but paid up. Thirteen rimless shots later, I squealed as the bear was placed in my arms.

“Here,” I told Real, handingover my prize.

“His name is Sherbet.”

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