Page 84 of Not My Type
“Sure yuh nah lie to me?”
Screamingggg We pass! We do good girlllllll!
He throws me on the bed, feeling hyperactive, I press my chest down on the bed, my eyes find the mirror when he slaps my ass. It jiggles each time his hand comes down on my flesh.
“Ow!” I laugh, then I look over my shoulder at him. “Your time now…”
He glares at me. “Wah?”
“Noooo! I mean... sex,” I soften my voice.
“Come yer,” he bites his lip, pulls me in, flips me over, rolls off the bed, pins my arms behind and stands at the edge of the bed while stroking his length with his eyes locked in mine.
“Open your legs,” he demands. I obey, shifting closer.
One leg dangles off the bed, the other bent. I arch my back, lifting my ass. He steps between my legs, grips my lower back, his fingers sinking into my side. I bite my lip, feeling the pulse. I rock against him—slow at first, then faster. I know what I’m doing. I know what I like. But with him, it feels different—intense. Like he’s pulling something out of me I didn’t know was there.
“Jah Jah... the view,” he mutters, his fingers find my clit, circling slow. My brows pull together, my breath stutters.
He slides his fingers in, and my walls clench around them. I bite my lip, fighting the moan crawling up my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth. “We nuh deh in a house alone, so nuh bother loud up di ting,” he rasps.
I gape as he curls his fingers. Then with a smile, I put my index in my mouth squirming as his long fingers move expertly in me.
“Zara,” his voice breathy. “Mi naav’ no condom.”
I pause, thinking it through. I’m on pills. I missed it this morning. I took one yesterday, though. I should be fine. Right? “Can I trust you?”
“Yah. Mi clean,” his voice genuine. “Mi do a checkup every two weeks. Can ring mi doc—”
“Shhh... I get it,” I look down. “Have fun in it,” It comes out low and sultry.
“That, I will do,” he runs the head of it against me. “Watch,” he demands, his voice low as he positions himself at my entrance.
I prop myself up on my elbow looking over my shoulder. The closeness, the tension, his thumb rubbing my slit—it feels intense, so close to something I’ve been wanting. Then he enters. I dig my fingers into the sheets.
“Aaahh,” I moan and we laugh.
“D’even fully in there yet,” he brags. He didn’t lie, with another thrust I feel him impossibly deep inside me.
“You want dem hear yuh?” his deep voice asks when I let out a moan.
“I forgot,” I whisper then my focus shifts to him stroking me gently. My face flushes, hoping that Zanne and her husband didn’t hear that.
He’s so bigggggg. I feel full, I hold back my screams. He gets two long strokes in and stops in me... in disbelief? Five seconds pass and he’s still staring.
“Wh—” he cuts me off with a short stroke, and chuckles, eyes low.
“This feel too good fi condom.”
“Says who—” I cover my mouth. He hovers me, hands next to my face as he slams in me so hard my body jerks.
It’s ironic how he wants me to hold back my moans when he’s going this hard.
He flips me over. “Jah Jah... Zara, mi affi look inna yuh eyes,” I grab his shoulder, squeezing my thighs around him, ankles crossed in the air, mouth fall open, silent moans spilling out.
His slow thrusts drive deeper, and deeper, and deeper, he doesn’t want to stop, his tattooed arms flexing with every move. The pressure builds inside me, I’m on the edge but, I hold back, craving more, wanting it to last. I dig my nails down his back. For a man, his skin is really soft, he’s rough though. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I turn my head, not wanting him to see me ugly crying. He realizes and buries his face in my neck, sucking on my skin gently. His lips move over and connect with mine. I hold his face, moaning against his lips as he whines in me.
“Mi a hurt yuh? Yuh wah mi stop?” Awww, the concern in his voice.
