Page 15 of Before I Should Leave
I didn’t. I leaned in, slowly. This time, I kissed him. His lips met mine warm and sure. He let me take the lead, let me pour into the kiss all the heat I’d been holding back. But then his hand found my waist, and the gentleness in his grip made my whole body tremble.
It deepened. The kind of kiss that promised more than sex. The kind that said I see you. He kissed me until my fingers were gripping his broad shoulders, until I exhaled into him like a secret.
When we finally parted, I kept my eyes closed for a moment too long. And when I opened them, he was watching me. Brows low. Lips parted just slightly. His hand moved from my waist to my thigh, big and warm and steady but not rushing a thing.
He let the silence sit. Then, in the softest, deepest tone I’d heard from him all night, he asked, “Can a nigga hold you while you sleep?”
God. There it was. That thuggish, quiet tenderness. That voice like crushed velvet. That sentence made my thighs clench and my heart melt at the same time. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
We slid under the covers with me still in my robe, still warm and pulsing with too many feelings. He reached for me gently and pulled me into his chest. And just like that—his arms wrapped around me, one under my neck, the other over my waist—I exhaled in full.
No weight on my shoulders. No guard on my mouth. No pressure to be anything but me. His lips pressed to my hair once. No more words. The storm still moved outside. But inside that bed? I’d never felt safer.
Iwanted to sleep. Itriedto sleep. But it’s hard to rest when your back’s pressed against a man’s bare chest, his arm draped over your waist, hand resting just above the curve of your thigh and the thick weight of him resting right at the small of your back. Warm. Heavy. Hard.
I slowly opened my eyes. The room was dark, but not silent. The rain was still whispering against the windows. The heat hummed. Diesel’s breathing was deep behind me—steady, even—but his body? His body was wide awake. I shifted a little. Just enough tofeelit better. His dick was long and thick and barely contained by the cotton of his sweats as it pushed against me, slowly and sure like it had been waiting for permission.
My breath caught. He moved, just slightly, and his voice came low, rough, and unfiltered against my neck. “You keep doin’ that,” he murmured, “and I’ma stop playin’ sleep.”
I turned slowly to face him. And just like that… we were chest to chest. Face to face. His eyes were dark and hooded, and his lips were parted. I murmured, “I was trying to let you rest.”
My fingertips traced the ink on his chest, the curve of his collarbone. “I’m not tired anymore.” His hand slid to the back of my thigh and gripped it. “Are you?”
“Not really.”
He kissed me like he was trying to write his name behind my teeth and I kissed him back like I was starved for it. His tongue teased mine, slow and smooth, then deeper. My leg lifted, curling over his hip without me even thinking. He groaned into my mouth, low and rough, then gripped my ass with both hands and pulled me closer. The friction between us made my head tilt back.
“Damn,” he muttered, voice cracking like he couldn’t hold it back. “You gon’ fuck around and make me lose it before I get started.”
I bit my lip, tugging his bottom one with my teeth before whispering, “I’m ready.” That was all he needed.
Diesel rolled me onto my back, dragging my robe open with one hand while the other stayed gripping my thigh. His mouthwent straight to my chest—kissing, sucking, biting just enough to make me moan.
My fingers tangled in his hair as he licked over one nipple, then the other, tongue slow, hands spreading my legs wider as his body lowered. I was panting now. Aching. Wet. “Diesel…”
He looked up at me from between my thighs, eyes burning. “You taste as good as you look?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He growled and pulled my robe completely off. Then his mouth met my pussy like he already knew what I liked. Long, slow licks. Broad tongue strokes. Then smaller, tighter ones, flicking just right. He sucked my clit like he needed it. My hips bucked. My fingers grabbed sheets. Nails gripping his braids.
He groaned against me. “That’s it. Let it go, beautiful.”
And I did. I let it go, cumming hard. Shaking. Mouth open. Body curling around him. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. He kept licking through it, holding my thighs apart like I was his meal, like he was hungry and nowhere near full.
I was begging now. Whining. “Diesel, please. . .”
He came up, mouth wet, a smirk on his lips. He reached for the nightstand, pulled a condom from his wallet, tore it with his teeth, and slid his sweats off slowly.
God.
Thick. Heavy. Dark. Veins like ropes. Tip swollen. Smooth stroke in his hand as he rolled the condom down and movedover me. He slid between my thighs and kissed me again, soft, deep, nasty. “Look at me,” he said, rubbing the tip against my clit before lining it up. “I wanna see your face when I slide in.” And when he did? I almost cried. It was so deep, stretching me. He cursed low. “Shit… you tight as fuck.”
I moaned. “It's been a while…”
“I gotchu, baby. Relax.” He gripped my hips and started stroking. It was slow and deep, like he was learning me in real time.
My hands grasped his back. My legs wrapped around his waist. We moved together like it was always supposed to happen. No awkwardness. No pause. Just heat and moans and sweat.
