Page 145 of Not My Type
“Say my name,” I speak seductively as I stand. He looks up at me enchanted. I hold onto his shoulder with one hand, my next hand pumping him fast. So fast, he climaxes against my palm, his cum splashing up.
“Zaraaaaa..” he groans, his eyes dropping to my hand’s motion. “Siddung pan it nuh, yuh fraid?” he teases, pulling me close.
I’m too far gone to let the opportunity to release my inhibitions pass me by. I bring my leg over and sit on him. I widen my mouth, the vein in his forehead protrudes. I hold my stomach. His hand pressing my hips as I cry out his name shakily, the pleasure consuming me.
“Ni—ccckkkooiii,” I moan, it’s almost too great to bear.
“Shhh,” he whispers, placing a hand over my lips.
I hug his shoulders tightly, rolling my hips in rhythmic circles. I glance over my shoulder, savoring the view of my ass cheeks on his lap, both in his big hands. It’s such a sexy view. Hands veiny. His fingernails sink into my skin, leaving a mark of desire. I hate that weird ring on his fing—
“Ohh..” I sob, bouncing on him.
He doesn’t let go of my ass. His groans are muffled against my skin, lips around my nipples. I close my eyes, just cuddling my man. I feel him jerk in me. I clench my walls against him. My grip makes him smile. I moan softly, face buried in his neck. I pull him down to the floor with me, my legs spreading wide. He falls between my thighs, our bodies entwined.
“I can’t... I can’t...” I say as he drives long strokes in me.
“Can’t what?” he pants, his strokes growing more intense.
I bite back a cry, my face wet with tears. He pulls out, then slips in again almost stab like motions. I tie my legs behind him, the room filled with wet sounds.
“Can’t... live without you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Mi know baby,” his voice thick with emotions. “How yuh think man feel?”
“You feel the same...” I gaze into his eyes. They’re low and dark with lust.
“Mhmmm,” he hums, thrusting deeply. He pauses in me. I stir.
“I want... you... to stay... safe,” I say through sobs as he moves again.
My back sliding against the cold tiles. I kick my leg up, giving him more access as I climb my high. My face contorts in pleasure, sweat coats my eyebrows, and pleasure bursts through my body. The aggression makes my hair stick to my forehead. In seconds, we both feel it coming. We’ve reach our brink. Our hug tightens, melding together as pleasure explodes. Bodies slithering against the floor, my clit throbs, and my cum trickles down my inner thighs.
“Nickoiiiiii...” I whine, my voice a desperate plea.
“See how yuh wet?” He caresses my folds.
I arch my body off the floor, tensing as he bursts off in me. I moan for him, my nipples are rock hard and my breathing is out of control.
Footsteps approach suddenly. “Zara?” the voice calls. It’s Mama. I stay quiet.
“A wah mommy?” My mom’s voice comes from the front room.
“Mi could a swear me hear some noise but Zara a sleep,” Mama calls out.
The bathroom door opens. I just smile, hooking my legs over his torso and hug him.
45. TRUNK
Nickoi
What Zara nuh understand is that I’m used to people sending death threats to me and as crazy as it sounds, this is just my life and I’m okay with it. Nuh this mi fadda set fi mi?
It’s not like I could stop if I wanted to, because from mi a juvenile mi father a do badness and by doing so, dragged me in to it. So, we’re left with it, whether or not we agreed. When I say we, I mean myself and my big brother, Junior. Since I’m known to be just like my father, I have to carry on his legacy. And play the cards right.
I have a feeling there is going to be a war around here because of that death threat. I have tons of enemies since I gain more every other day—if not all for different reasons. Some are from different neighbourhoods and some are just simply generational enemies. Just the fact that Outlaw was my father gave me at least five hundred enemies. My father did a lot of illegal things in the past that had caught up to him—and I’m afraid it’s no different with me. I take in a deep breath. The person who sent the threat isn’t too far from here.
Carlos’ friends died in the Constant Spring massacre. So that’s probably the dumbest idea I could come up with. It’s just simply pointless. Henry told Zara, so obviously he was there to get that information from them. Where could he have been to hear that? The bar. That’s where he hangs out. In all honesty, my only concern is Zara. I’m good. I’ve been in countless life-threatening situations before. And all that’s happened is me becoming fearless especially when it comes to death.
