Page 89 of Not My Type
“Talia,” I start. How mi a go do this now?
“Mi wah talk to yuh bout sup’m,” she looks at me concerned.
“What you wanna talk about?” her brows lower.
Mi d’even know who this new person is because usually mi can cut off anybody and nuh business and now mi a worry bout how people a guh feel. I sigh in frustration. I spent enough time outside at Junior’s. I know what I want now.
Mi get fi understand say a Zara a the right ooman fi me and mi nah allow nobody fi stop man likkle progress. Next thing too, Zara have the kind o’ grip, that could have a nigga like me up before the horizon even cracks open, whippin’ up her breakfast, her lunch and her dinner. Then massage her sexy body, spend every dollar pan har and lay the whole galaxy at her feet. The kind o’ grip weh mek mi wah give har heaven, hell and the whole in between. Believe me when mi tell yuh dat. So there is only one answer.
“Mi wah end this,” I’ve never felt more sure. She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Poor thing feel man a joke. Her face gets serious. Or a har crazy side a kick in?
“Nickoi, please tell me you’re just playing with me!” her eyes narrowing at me. “Where is this coming from!?”
“Watch how yah talk to me,” I hiss and walk inside.
She shoves me, rage in her eyes. “Is there another bitch!?” her voice rings out, sharp and fierce, echoing through the house like a warning shot. It’s thick with heat, like she’s ready to burn everything down. Jah know star. Ending this is hard. I like Talia, but not as much as I like Zara. But the guilt is hitting me—hurting Talia is messing with my head.
You’ll get over it.
She’s arguing, and I sigh, pouring Hennessy into a glass. I know she’s crazy, so I keep my eyes on her.
“Nickoi! ¡Dime su nombre ya!” she snaps, her voice full of rage. Her eyes are red, like she’s about to explode.
(Nickoi! Just tell me her name already!)
“Mi just a do this fi miself,” I speak frigidly. I bring the cup to my lips, and she slaps it away. The cup falls, splintering on the floor. Jah know.
“Sure!” she glares at me.“Lying ass nigga. ¡Ya escuché de esa perra! ¡Pero no lo creí!” she shouts, surprising me with the fire in her voice.
(Lying ass nigga. I already heard about that bitch! But I didn’t believe it!)
I glare at her. She a test mi faith right now. And how she… how she even know that?
“Talia, bill yuhself,” I warn, my voice steady. She grabs me, and I push her away, gentle but firm. “Bill nuh!”
She storms upstairs, slamming the door behind her. I can feel the tension building, like something’s about to blow.
“You know, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me... you said I was the only girl you wanted!” She laughs, cold and bitter, as she comes down the stairs, dragging her suitcase.
“Mentiroso!” she spits, eyes blazing.
I hiss, and she slams the door behind her. The second she’s gone, I let out a long breath of relief.
“S’pose mi tell Ms. Sandra?” he jokes.
I laugh and another moan escapes my lips. “Oh–Nickoi you ughhh oh yeah.” I feel like I’m going crazy when he starts throwing me up faster, as if I’m light work to him.
I can feel a strong pressure building up in me. I don’t want him to stop. I wish I could feel this forever And ever. And ever. “Ahh, just like that,” I moan, my eyes closed, lost in the sensation.
“Know you would be good, but never expected this,” Nickoi mutters, more to himself than to me. Butterflies flutter in my stomach at his words. I whimper, feeling like a fire has been ignited in my veins.
“Shittt,” I clench around him. How is he so good? Why do these strokes feel so addicting? “Ughhh! Oh my God,” I breathe out in disbelief. Whatever he’s doing I love it. “Nickoi... yah guh kill me?” I sink my finger in his shoulder.
“In this case yes,” he pants, slamming me down. He stops the pattern that I fell in love with, throwing me up slow, but rough. My breasts jerk each time. He’s handling me like I don’t weigh exactly 130 Ibs. No sign of struggle in sight.
“Don’t stop what you were doing please,” I plead. He smiles but doesn’t do what I ask. “Nickoi please nuh,” I beg. He starts again, and I close my eyes, savoring the way he drags along my walls.
“Yess,” I moan. I’m squirming, and he scoots down lying me flat on the cold tiles, he didn’t stop for once.
