Page 50 of Sunday

I slid another finger inside of her as she rubbed her thumbs across her nipples.

“You want me to eat this pussy, baby?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Tell me you want me to eat it,” I ordered as I blew over her clit.

“Ohhh, shit. Please eat my pussy, CJ.”

“Ain’t ya li’l ass too tired for that?”

Sunday spread her legs wider and pumped her pussy into my face. I chuckled before I sucked her clit. She arched her back and moaned hoarsely.

“Please, more,” she begged.

I slid my fingers out, pulled her lips apart, and slid my tongue inside of her. I loved the way that Sunday tasted and how she always saturated my beard, lips, and mustache with her juices.

I loved eating her pussy so much I never washed my face or brushed my teeth right away. I loved smelling her scent. What I loved even more was how she reacted to my mouth on her or my dick and fingers inside of her. Knowing that I could bring that type of pleasure to her that had her speaking another language and losing complete control of the elegant poise she exhibited at work pleased me.

Sunday was still young and impressionable, and I always wanted to be cautious with her. I was careful not to manipulate her or try to control her in any way. I wanted her to be free to express her opinions and make her own decisions. That was not some shit I would ever have thought of until her daddy said that shit to me.

Although I’d been pissed at the time he accused me of preying on his daughter, later, I’d gone back to consider his accusation. I knew that I’d never done anything that could be considered predatorial. But now it had me being extremely cautious with her at all times. The downfall of that was that I wondered if I was priming myself to be taken advantage of again.

“I can’t contain it,” she whimpered.

I chuckled. She often said little shit like that instead of “I gotta cum.”

I slid a finger inside of her, along with my tongue, and she snatched the pillow from underneath her head. Pressing it over her face, she screamed as she erupted in my mouth.

Her sweet nectar was all I needed. I pulled back after I cleaned her with my mouth and tongue. Sunday curled up into a ball, and I swatted her on the ass.

“Go back to sleep and finish resting up.”

“I can’t go back now.”

“A’ight. Get dressed and join me downstairs. I’m getting ready to make Sunday brunch.”

“Okay.”

I spent the next two hours cooking and preparing our brunch. Sunday still hadn’t come down by the time that I plated our meal of strawberry crepes, lemon curd, country ham, and a spinach quiche.

I poured juice for both of us and set the plates at the little table at the breakfast nook. Our window overlooked the mainstreet, which looked out on shops, across the street, and other townhomes like ours up and down the street.

“Okay, her ass couldn’t fall back to sleep,” I muttered with a chuckle as I headed upstairs to wake her up. Sunday had moved into the bedroom with me, and we were in the process of changing her former bedroom into our baby’s nursery.

We’d placed her queen-sized bed in storage until we brought a bigger place. My king-sized bed was more than enough room for the two of us. Just before I reached our bedroom door, I heard her voice on the phone. It wasn’t that she was loud, but I could hear her talking.

She must have gotten caught up on the phone with Janae or Celine and forgot all about brunch. That was surprising because her greedy ass never got enough of eating these days.

I pushed the door open and noticed she had the covers over her head.

“No, it’s not a good time.” The covers muffled her voice, but I could hear her clearly.

I cleared my throat as I leaned against the doorframe. I wasn’t a sneaky nigga, and I wasn’t about to be creeping around my house eavesdropping. She needed to know that I was there. Her eyes were wide when she threw the covers back and stared at me.

“Hey, uhm, . . . let me call you back later. I need to go eat.”

She ended the call without waiting for whoever was on the other line to respond.

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