Page 90 of Not My Type
He swiftly pulls a pillow from the bed, sliding it beneath my head. “Take it... like a G,” he teases, eyes emotionless.
He bites his lip and closes his eyes just before burying his face in my neck again. I gently bite his shoulder. I can’t find the right words to describe this feeling. No wonder he has so many girls. This is what they’re all getting? I can’t let him go.
He flips us over, slamming into me so hard I see stars. My face buries in the pillow, muffling my moans. Nickoi grips my waist, hitting my sweet spot, making me shiver.
“I’m close, Nic–”
He covers my mouth, silencing me, still it slips out. “NickkOiiiiiii!” I moan shakily. I don’t hear it. My toes curl and my eyes roll to the back of my head.
He curses loudly. The guttural sound of the words flips a switch in me, and I find myself releasing all over him. He groans, collapsing on top of me, sweat dripping down his face. We’re both glistening, breath heavy in the air. I lick my lips, struggling to catch my breath, then he speaks, breathing hard.
“A lady in the streets, and a freak in the sheets fi real.” he smirks, impressed. I smile back.
“Doh Ms. Williams?” he teases purposely using my surname to refer to my profession. I blush. “Can’t find the words enuh Zara... ” he pants then he pulls me closer, closing the space between our naked bodies.
“Just kno’ yuh nah lef yasso. Yuh stuck with man fi life.”
31. BON APETIT
Zara
When I get home, I check my phone. I don’t get a follow back from Jemmy Nye, but I did get a follow from Nickoi. I smile and hurriedly follow him back only for it to say requesting. Ugh!
Everything Instagram want when the page private.
I already showered and made sure I was dressed for the night out with Suzanne. I check myself in the mirror and a car honks. A must she that.
Mama pulls the door. “Wah lady outside Zara,” The look on her face tells me that she’s concerned.
“Okay, we are going out to a restaurant or something,” I tell her. I don’t know exactly where we are going but I’m guessing it’s a restaurant.
“Alright mi love, take care,” I smile and walk out.
“Yuh look good!” Zanne exclaims when I approach the black Porsche. A did fi har? Weh Suzanne would a get money from? Nuh must har boyfriend car, My subconscious starts. Hear yah.
I’m dressed in a silky champagne cowl-neck top, draping perfectly, showing enough skin at the back, without doing too much, with a boyfriend light wash jeans that falls right over my clear heels, minimal makeup, a few delicate bracelets and a beige woven clutch bag.
“You too!” I smile cheekily. Her bodycon dress fits like a second skin, makeup flawless. She winks at me, moving her bag from the passenger seat and putting it on the backseat.
“Junior choose this dress fimme enuh!” she squeals.
“Love a supportive husband,” I climb in.
“Mi a tell yuh, the bwoy can dress better than me,” she adds making us laugh.
She pulls off and I take the time to check my phone. I notice that I got a ‘What’s up’ message from ‘My Mann’. I send him a quick text, let him know I’m on the road with Zanne, then check out his profile. There it is, two pictures. In the first one, he’s sharp in a Dior suit. The second, all black with a blue ski mask, posted up on a black Mark X. Both pulling in over 30k likes. But what’s weird? His comments are off. I suck my teeth, toss my phone in my bag. Maybe I’m overthinking.
“You ever try this restaurant?” Suzanne asks and I notice that it’s Oceano. the same Japanese restaurant that I went to with Gavin and Sash.
“Mi come here other day,” I tell her as my mind runs on that night. So much happened. She parks the car.
“Mi husband suggest it, him come here before,” she tells me.
“Okay, the food nice but expensive.”
“As expected,” she giggles. My phone vibrates.
My Man
