Page 32 of B.D.E
I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “My tongue been in every part of your body, but I’m just a friend now?” I teased her but shit it was true. We never put a name on shit we were doing. Hell, neither of us knew what it was, just that it was a strong ass pull that neither of us could break away from.
Her mouth dropped open like she wanted to explain, but nothing came out.
“Well, we never put a… I didn’t mean any?—”
I stepped closer, pulling her up to stand in front of me and slid my hands down her waist. Specs, chill. I get it. You didn’t want to explain all that to your home girl. Plus, you right. Whatever…this is, we ain’t no name to it yet.”
I pulled her closer and lowered my mouth to her ear. “But understand me when I say this. You…belong to me. And you know damn well ain’t shit friendly about the way I have you bouncing on my dick, baby.”
She pulled back, staring me in the eyes. “Oh, I know,” she smirked. “There is absolutely nothing friendly about the way that you fuck me, Roman.” She pressed her palm to my chest, “But if I’m yours… that means your mine, too.”
Then, she stood on her toes and brushed her lips against my jaw. Shit. She had my dick bricked up and screaming to be back in her spot, but I knew I needed to chill I’d been fucking Specs so much, I was surprised she could walk straight. It was something about getting some pussy that I knew for a fact, hadn’t been touched by another nigga that had me wanting it all the time. She needed a break though, even if every part of me was ready to lift her and drop her down on my stiff one.
I let out a deep breath and gripped her chin. “Say less, baby,” I murmured. “But just know… you keep talking that slick shit, I’ma fold yo’ thick ass up like a pretzel with no mercy.” I kissed her cheek and stepped back, leaving her breathless. Specs had found this newfound side of her that was cocky and liked to talk shit. I fucked with it, but I wouldn’t hesitate to fuck her back in her place and let her know exactly who runs this shit.
CHAPTER 18
Gideon Delano
TWENTY-THREE YEARS AGO…
“Ay Dios,papi… estoy a punto de venirme,” My beautiful wife, Isabella cried out, rocking her hips back and forth with desperation in her voice.Her curls bounced with every motion. Sweat glistened on her golden-brown skin, and the soft creak of our headboard echoed beneath her rhythm.
I had both hands wrapped around her waist, watching every twitch on her face as she rode me. Her Spanish spilled out when we fucked, and she always forgot English when she was trying to catch her nut.
“¿Tú sientes eso, mi amor? Esto es todo tuyo,” she whispered down to me, her voice trembling as her climaxed neared. “Solamente tuyo, Gideon…”
She was the only woman who ever made me feel human while making me lose my damn mind. The only woman my cold heart could ever love. I thrust up to meet her pace, holding her in place as her whole body locked up and she came hard, trembling in my arms, gasping out my name. When it was over, she collapsed onto my chest, her heartbeat thudding against mine.
“You alright?” I asked, brushing back her curls.
She laughed weakly. “I’m alive, no thanks to you.”
I let her rest for a moment, then kissed her lips. She was soft in my hands, always warm. For a few seconds, I didn’t want to move. But duty never slept.
“You gonna’ leave again today?” she asked, her voice shifting to a serious tone.
“Yeah. I got something to handle.”
She pulled back and sat up, wrapping the sheet around her chest. Her eyes cut toward me.
“Siempre es lo mismo, Gideon, you always disappear and don’t answer your phone. I never know if you’re dead or alive.”
“I’m careful,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I stood up and headed for the shower. “I’ll be back.”
“¿Cuándo?” she called out from the bed.
I didn’t answer… I never had a real answer for when I would be back, but the mission was always to make it back home to her and our son, Marcus. She sighed hard. I could hear her get up and pad barefoot across the hardwood, heading toward the kitchen.
When I came out of the bathroom, she was already by the stove, cracking eggs. Her pink satin robe hung off her shoulder. I buttoned my shirt, slipped on my watch, and walked into the living room where Marcus was parked in front of the TV with his tiny legs crossed and his toy truck in his hand. He looked up with that same serious expression he always had.
“You leaving, Daddy?”
I bent down in front of him. “Yeah. Just for a little while.”
