Page 41 of No Gemini Does it Better
Pulling myself together, I tried to focus on the moment—the way my body hummed with awareness and desire for him and only him. But then, the unexpected happened. Kareem slowly eased away with a heavy sigh and leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, and I caught the tail end of weariness etched onto his face. The sight of it twisted something inside me. His brown orbs swallowed mine, and suddenly, it was like there was no one else in the world. His gaze was intense, searching, drilling into me as if he were trying to read my thoughts.
I remembered that look. It made me ache when he did it in the car. It made me ache now. A deep, pulsing need started somewhere in my chest and spread, winding its way through me until it settled with a throb between my thighs. I was dying for him to touch me, to bring back those sweet, stolen moments we had before the other shoe fell, and everything shifted.
I shifted my weight, restless with wanting. I recalled how it felt the first time we touched, the thrill of doing something off-script, the rush of desire that didn’t care about right or wrong. And damn it, I wanted to feel that again. Despite every rational thought that screamed at me to stop, to keep my distance, I couldn’t ignore the pull, the magnetic draw that existed between us.
“Kareem . . .”
His name slipped from my lips like a plea, and I wasn’t sure what I was asking for. Forgiveness? Permission? Dick? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the space closing in around us, charged with the electricity of what might happen next.
My fingers trembled as I reached out, an instinct beyond my control, guiding them to his face. The rough stubble of his cheek under my palms brought back a flood of sexual memories, but this wasn’t about them. It was about the now, the pull between us that demanded to be acknowledged at least one last time.
“Shawty,” he whispered, his deep voice barely above a breath, laden with all the things we both wanted but knew we shouldn't have. His eyes, those deep pools of cocoa, widened slightly, a silent question hanging in the air between us.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I leaned forward, and our lips met again, crashing together with total abandon, only need. His mouth was warm, insistent, and all-consuming. It was as if I was breathing him in, and he was every bit as desperate as I was. We were lost in each other’s touch and the sensation of being so close. Nothing else mattered.
I sank into him, the firmness of his body against the give of mine feeling like a puzzle piece snapping into place. His strong arms wrapped around me, unyielding, and I felt secure, even as my heart raced with the danger of what we were doing and where we were. His lips moved with mine in an urgent rhythm, every kiss reigniting the need that had simmered between us.
His calloused hands traced over me, outlining the curves of my body as if committing every peak and valley to his memory bank. No words were needed. Our bodies spoke volumes, each caress a sentence, every gasp a punctuation mark in the story we were writing together.
I jumped into his arms, a tangle of limbs and whispered sighs. His lap cradled me, his grip on my ass both possessive andtender as I lowered myself onto him. It was a perfect fit like he’d been made just for me.
“Mmm, shit.” He growled into my ear as he eased me up and down on his long rod without a condom.
Our combined gasps filled the room, a sound mingling shock and satisfaction as we connected in a way I’d forbade myself to even think about ever again. But here we were, moving together, my former decision becoming a distant echo with every thrust and pull. There was no turning back now, only forward into the heat and the hunger that haunted both of us.
I bucked against him, taking from Kadeem what he was giving me, our rhythm urgent and raw. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.
“You feel so fuckin’ good, shawty,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice revealing just how much this meant.
His words were a solace to the hours of mental turmoil and silent yearning I'd spent during the long drive. The small bathroom seemed charged with electricity, every nerve ending alive as we explored each other. My fingers dug into his shoulders, finding new strength in my grip, while his hands roamed across my back, down my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
We switched positions as the world outside faded away, time losing meaning as we lost ourselves in the feverish pace of our connection. Kareem entered me from behind, and a fresh wave of desire coursed through me as I gripped on the bathroom sink. Each thrust was hard and deep, and it felt like he was reaching parts of me that hadn’t been touched before him. The intensity of his movements, the way he filled me, sent shockwaves through my body. He fucked the bonnet straight off my head, braids spilling over my face as I clawed at the edges of the sink, anything to anchor myself as he thrust hard and fast inside of me.
His hand slid down over my stomach, inching closer to the heat between my thighs. When his fingers finally touched me there, it was like a circuit had been completed. A current jolted through me, and I came apart at the seams, shattering into a million pieces.
“Yes, yes!” I whispered. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”
Panting, my heart still racing from the crescendo of pleasure, his hands gripped my hips and pushed my head down. There was no hesitation, only the desperate need that had been building between us for too long. I was now face down with my cheek pressed against the cool counter and my braids a tangled mess around my face.
The room was thick with the sound of our breaths, the slap of melanated skin on skin, and the low, guttural moans that escaped from his lips. His fingers dug into my flesh, pulling me back onto him, and I pushed against him just as fiercely. We were two halves of a whole, moving together, driving each other toward something that felt inevitable.
“Mmm, fuck,” he groaned.
And then it happened. He stiffened behind me, his grip tightening on my hips as if he was trying to hold onto the moment, and I felt the shudder that ran through him as he pulled out and finished with a groan that seemed to unleash from his very soul. The finality of it, the release, echoed through the room, vibrating within me.
We stayed close for a few fleeting seconds, the aftershocks rippling through us like coarse waves. Then, slowly, we parted, and I stepped away from him, both of us still trying to normalize our racing heartbeats. As the daze of lust began to clear, reality seeped back in. Suddenly, the air felt colder, and I felt as though I was see-through. I wrapped my towel back around myself, more as a shield than for warmth. A heaviness settled on my heart—the weighted pressure of guilt and confusion. Whathad we done? This wasn’t just a random hookup. This was a convicted felon.
It was too late to untangle the mess of emotions, to separate the wrong from the right. As the silence grew between us again, I couldn’t help but wonder if the feelings we'd stumbled upon would be enough to weather the new storm we’d just created.
When I woke up the next morning, I knew it was time to say goodbye and start the drive back to Jacksonville. Leaning against the bathroom sink, I stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked like me, with thesame long braids framing her face and the same worried brown eyes, but there was something else there too. I had this look about me, like I’d just come out on the other side of something that scared the fuck out of me.
“Get it together, Sawyer,” I whispered to myself, trying to push down the anxiety bubbling up inside me.
My hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles tightening as flashbacks of our last night together replayed in my head. The cool porcelain was grounding and real, unlike the warm, electrifying fantasy that kept trying to pull me back to Kareem. I splashed water on my face, hoping the shock of cold would wash away the heat, the longing, the feelings that were too close to the surface. But when I reached for the towel, my hand was still shaking.
“Focus,” I told myself, drying off my face.
I took a deep breath, the kind that fills your lungs until they’re ready to burst. Then, I let it out slowly. In and out, likethose stress management techniques they teach you when life’s got you by the throat.
