Page 24 of Mine

Rasheed lifted himself slightly and spread my legs wider, pressing the right one into the bed. His eyes bore into mine as he rubbed my clit with the palm of his hand.

“Mm… Rasheed,” I whimpered, pinching my nipples. “That feels so fucking good, baby.”

“Yeah? Show me how much.” When he spanked my clit, I jerked against the bed, but he gripped my waist and kept me in place. “Show me how good I’m making this pretty pussy feel.” He alternated between rubbing and spanking, and when I was just about to cum… Rasheed entered me with two fingers.

He groaned as I pulsed against his fingers, struggling to catch my breath.

Rasheed placed the sweetest kiss to my clit as he pulled his fingers out of me before licking his fingers dry.

“My sweet trouble,” he moaned against my lips before kissing me deeply. I returned every swipe of his tongue until the feel of his long, curved dick stretching me caused my mouth to open as I gasped.

Rasheed held my ankles, keeping them by my head as he filled me with long, deep strokes. Each time, he’d pull out completely before stuffing me again. The rhythm had me trembling underneath him as I gasped, groaned, and grunted. My walls tightened and tightened against him, leaking and smacking and sucking him in deeper.

“Ooh, I…” My back arched and lips quivered. I hissed, unable to warn him that I was about to cum. I didn’t have to. He knew.

“Yessss, that’s it. That’s it, sweetheart. That’s a good girl.”

The more he praised and pumped into me, the harder I came. His arrogant chuckle as he turned the volume up on the TV was warranted, because for a second, I forgot we weren’t alone in this big ass house.

Rasheed lowered himself to me, and I wasted no time wrapping my legs around him. Our lips connected as he kept the same slow pace. Our hands were all over each other’s bodies. When his went into my hair then down to my neck, my moans turned into low hums.

“Look at me,” he commanded when my eyes squeezed shut. “You mine now.”

I nodded fervently, too afraid I’d moan loudly if I tried to speak. My nails dug into his back as he commanded, “Say it, Presly. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours,” I moaned before pulling in another sizzling breath. “I’m yours, baby.”

“Mhm.”

Hooking his arms around my knees, Rasheed kept me spread wide and tilted as he increased his pace and hardened his strokes. His hips circled, and he swirled every drop of cum in my pussy that was getting ready to gush for him. It felt so good all I could do was keep my arm wrapped tightly around his neck—keeping him chest to chest with me. My mouth hung open as I gasped and whimpered until we both came simultaneously.

Ididn’t leave my room for breakfast. I stayed inside and read. When someone knocked and left a muffin and fruit with coffee at my door, I knew it was Rasheed. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air after his presence left. The gesture made me want to cry, because yet again, he was proving how easy it was for him to choose to take care of me. To think of me.

My parents and sister knew I was retreating back into my shell, so they checked on me throughout the day briefly but left me alone. I’d engage with them at the rehearsal dinner, but that was all the energy I had in me for the day. When I missed him too much to deny myself, I went to find Rasheed. I expected him to be having lunch with everyone else, so I was surprised to find him in his room. After letting me in, he climbed back into bed wearing nothing but his boxers, and the sight of his dick print had me wanting to do more than just talk.

“You feeling better?” he asked as I climbed into bed with him.

“Yes. Why aren’t you having lunch?”

“I ate earlier. Me and Tyler went out with Jason. He wanted to find a gift for your sister tonight, so we ate while we were out.”

“Oh, cool. That’s sweet of him. He definitely loves her in her love language,” I said with a smile, because that girl loved gifts.

“What’s yours?”

“Service. Though you make me feel like it’s physical touch too. I used to hate spending a lot of time with men or having random people touch me, but that hasn’t been the case with you.”

“Yeah, they say our love language is based on what we were used to as a child and what we desire as an adult with the person we’re with, so I think it can change depending on the relationship.”

“What’s yours?”

“Quality time, and depending on the woman, service or physical touch.”

“What about me?” I asked softly, bashfully.

“Physical touch. I got the vibe that you were a loner who liked to be to yourself, and I noticed the only time you don’t stiffen up or pull away quickly when people touch you is if it’s your sister, parents, or me. So when you let me touch you, and especially when you touch me first, that does something to me.”

“You’re very observant.”

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