Page 35 of Kassir and Rebel
He lightly licks his bottom lip then nods. “But I thought I couldn’t get none with Kassan here,” he says, reminding me of my words earlier
“He’s asleep, right? And your door is locked?”
“I can lock it but what about your ankle?”
“Fuck this stupid ankle,” I say and we both laugh. “But lock the door.”
After lifting my legs, he eases off the bed then walks out. A few minutes later, he walks back in. “He’s knocked out,” he informs me as he locks the door. Then he kicks off his Js, removes his grill and chain, and comes back to me.
“Sit on the edge,” I demand and he does.
Carefully, I scoot down and straddle him, managing to keep my left leg straight. The way his sexy eyes dip reveals that he appreciates my forward move.
“Your ankle—” he begins but my lips against his halt his words.
I don’t want to talk anymore. The cocktail of the brownie and him has my body yearning to be all over his. So I snake my arms around his neck and press my body into his. His hands move to my hips and he grips them. Slowly, I grind on him and feel his dick brick up. Greedily, I reach down and graze my hand across it.
While smirking, I ask, “Are you still worried about my ankle?”
His hands move from my hips to the sides of my face. With lust and a hint of deviousness in his dark eyes, he utters, “Nah, fuck yo’ ankle.”
I lick his bottom lip then suck on his tongue. He loves that shit and I love the way he reacts so aggressively when I do it. When I lean back in to kiss him, he takes over and his lips devour mine hungrily and his tongue wrestles mine.
“Mmm,” I moan as my hand continues to caress him through his jeans.
While he commands my mouth, I feel my body rising a little. His lips never leave mine as his hands reach under my dress for my panties. When he grips the hem, I try to maneuver somehow to assist him with getting them off but it’s not working quickly enough for either of us.
“Imma rip these shits,” he whispers with a smug grin. I open my mouth to tell him I’m cool with that but my words get caught in my throat when he does just as he says. He tosses my destroyed panties to the floor. His fingers graze my slit then slip inside of me. “Damn,” he groans. “You stay fucking wet.”
“For you,” I admit, because I do. During our time apart, I was with three different men and not one of them solicited this type of arousal. Not one. It’s always been Kassir. “Only you,” I utter as he inserts another finger inside of me. My head falls back from the sensation but he doesn’t let up. His two fingers thrust in andout of me while his thumb circles my clit. He’s taking me to the edge. “Ohh, damn,” I moan.
His other hand grips the back of my neck as he pulls my face to his. “You want this dick?” he asks but I can’t answer him.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t because his fingers are still pleasing the hell out of me. I’m on the verge of cumming. Reactive and ready to explode, I start riding his fingers, chasing my impending orgasm. My hands lock behind his neck and my head bows in defeat as a massive orgasm ripples through my core. “Shhhiiit,” I purr.
“Is that a yes?” he asks arrogantly, and I merely sigh, unable to speak.
While I relish in the waves of ecstasy coursing through my entire body, he manages to unbutton and unzip his jeans. Before I can catch my breath, he releases his beautiful dick then slowly eases me down on him. “Shit,” he groans as my walls contract and stretch to accommodate all of him.
My God!
Nothing in the world feels as good as this…as him.
Together, we create the perfect rhythm. His big hands grip my hips as I slowly rock them before bouncing up and down on him. Precise and intentional, he thrusts in and out of me as I ride him to pure ecstasy.
Chapter 11
Kassir
“Oh shit! You’re here before opening. What’s up?” Niecy says slyly when I enter the shop.
It’s only nine and we open at ten. My barbers will all start falling in around nine-thirty but Niecy is always here by eight. I’m rarely here, usually just a few hours two, maybe three, days a week. Unlike me, she loves the extra alone time to make sure the shop is ready for the upcoming day.
“I just need to holla at you,” I say as I slide into the chair at the first station. She’s standing in front of hers, brushing her clippers, but when I sit, she follows and slides into her chair. “I need a chair for a new barber.”
“Unless you know something I don’t, we have nine chairs and all nine are occupied.”
“Tomorrow is Joel’s last day,” I state firmly.
