Page 32 of You Deserve Good Things

And just like that, she twitched. Her fingers reached for mine again on instinct. I chuckled low, slow, smug.

“Ain’t no point in fighting it, baby,” I said, leaning in again, lowering my voice to a hush just between us. “You mine. And I been yours. So stop acting like you don’t feel it.”

She licked her lips, cheeks flushed, thighs pressing together under the table. I caught it. Oh, I saw it. Felt it. That tension. That need. That love.

“Jacory . . .” she started, barely breathing my name like it was the first prayer she ever said out loud.

“Yeah, my love?” I asked, my voice velvet-wrapped steel.

“. . . I’m tired of running.”

That right there broke me open in a way I couldn’t put in words. It felt like hearing a favorite song that hadn’t played in years. Like your heart finding its rhythm after beating off-key for too damn long.

“Then stop, baby,” I whispered, standing and going ’round to her side.

I pulled her up gently, pressing my chest to hers, my arms locking behind her lower back like a fortress made outta flesh. My lips brushed her ear. “Let me catch you.”

Her whole body melted. Right there in my arms, she finally surrendered. I felt it in the way she sank into me, the way her fingers curled into my shirt like she needed to memorize my heartbeat.

“You sure?” she whispered, voice barely audible.

I pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“I ain’t never been more sure of anything in my life,” I said, one hand sliding up to her cheek, thumb brushing that one little tear that had slipped free. “You are everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever prayed for. And I ain’t never letting you go again.”

Then I kissed her—slow, deep, soulful, like a promise sealed in heat and honey.

And for the first time? She kissed me back like she believed I’d keep it.

The Breakthrough Pt. 2

I wasn’t asking no more.I wasn’t waiting, wasn’t hesitating, and sure as hell wasn’t about to let her love tiptoe through fear. Tonight, she was gon’ feel me—fully, deeply, eternally. She was gon’ feel me in her pulse, in her breath, in every damn heartbeat like I was part of her anatomy. There wasn’t no more room for doubt, and definitely not no more runnin’. This was our reckoning. A redemption wrapped in passion, soaked in sweat, and sealed with the kind of love only we could create.

The moonlight bled through the curtains in wide streaks, painting her caramel skin in strokes of silver and seduction. She looked like a dream dipped in honey—warm, glowing, and fartoo divine to be real. My fingers traced slow, reverent circles along her thighs like I was sketching a masterpiece on soft canvas, takin’ my damn time, savoring every inch like it was gospel.

She lay beneath me, breath uneven, her chest rising like waves crashing against the shore. Her lips were swollen from all the biting, glistening with unspoken words and raw emotion. But I didn’t want words—I wanted surrender. That deep, soul-deep surrender that didn’t come from fear but from trust.

“You can have me, Yaya,” I murmured, my voice low and thick like warm syrup sliding over southern biscuits.

She shook her head, her hands gripping my arms like they were the only thing tethering her to this world. I moved slow, deliberate, my lips brushing her collarbone like soft silk and promising, electric with intention.

But I needed her to say it. I needed her to own it.

“Nah, baby. I wanna hear you say it.” My lips barely touched her ear, breath hot and reverent. “Say you want me. Say it with that sweet-ass voice God gave you.”

Her nails dug deeper into my back, a soft whimper escaping her lips, but the words still didn’t come. So, I dropped my hand lower, fingertips gliding between her thighs like a whisper, teasing just enough to make her squirm.

“Say it, beautiful,” I said again, voice rumbling like a thunderstorm rolling in from the bayou. “Tell me you want me.”

Her body bucked beneath me, that tension building in her like she was a rubber band on the verge of snapping. And when she finally whispered it—“I want you, baby”—it was soft and sticky sweet, like molasses dripping slow in July heat.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“Nah.” I growled low, like her need was fuel and I was starving. My fingers pressed deeper, sending a jolt through her whole frame. “Say it again.”

She gasped, her breath hitching like her soul was catching up to her flesh. “I want you so bad,” she moaned, desperate and delicious.

That was the key. That was when I unlocked her.

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