Page 17 of Tyriq & Teaira
The next moments are a beautiful, freaky, nasty in a good ass way blur. Tyriq pleases me in every way, and after three mind blowing orgasms, we collapse onto my sectional. While I spell my name in cursive on his back with my finger, he rests his head on my stomach and my legs latch around him.
“Why do females stay with ain’t shit niggas?” he asks. His words and question seem to come out of nowhere.
“Huh?” I ask, ensuring I heard him right. Clearly, I did because he repeats the same thing. “Probably love,” I answer honestly. “But I’ve never done it. I grew up seeing a man properly loving a woman and I know what I deserve. I couldn’t do but plenty do.”
“Ion understand that shit.”
“Each situation is different, I guess. Who are we talking ’bout?”
“My moms. She sticks with that nigga no matter what and I hate it. She deserves a good nigga who loves her and his fucking kids.”
I contemplate my next words long and hard before I say them because this is his family, his parents, that we are talking about and I don’t know much about them. “Maybe he loves her the best that he can,” I tell him.
“So my moms deserves some bullshit love?” he spits with so much incredulity.
His head raises and he glares at me. I definitely struck a nerve. My eyes lock with his fiery ones as I continue to caress his back. As calm as I can be, I say, “That’s not what I was saying. Not everybody has the same capacity for love or even knows how to love. I grew up watching two people love each other hard as hell, so I can’t even imagine what you grew up with. Nor can I imagine why your mom does what she does. But there’s a way for you to find out why she stays. Just ask her.”
He sighs then leans up and softly kisses my lips. “You make this shit sound so easy,” he says before laying his head back on my stomach.
“Not easy but hopefully mendable. The way you talk about her I can tell y’all are close. Ask her what you asked me then maybe talk to your dad.”
“That nigga hates me; we don’t talk,” he says and my heart hurts for him. No child should never utter those words about a parent. “I guess I should thank him though.”
“Why?”
“Besides showing me how to never be with my wife and kids,” he utters then I feel his body shift before continuing, “If it wasn’t for him degrading me and underestimating me all the fucking time, I wouldn’t be playing in the championship tomorrow.”
“I think your hard work, long hours on the court, dedication, and running offense have a lot to do with that.”
He lifts up then anchors his hands to my sides. While hovering over me, he smiles then comes close to my face. “Running offense? You watch me play?” He smirks.
“Riq, I just know what a point guard does,” I respond with faux annoyance while trying hard not to smile back.
“And you watch my games. Admit that shit.”
“I don’t,” I lie.
“You don’t?” he asks. The smug ass smile on his handsome face reveals that he absolutely knows I’m lying. After nestling his head on the side of my neck, he whispers, “Lie again and I’ll bite you.”
“Bite me?”
“Yeah.”
“Tyriq. You are not going to bite me.”
“On DP, I will. Right here too.” He runs his tongue up my neck to my earlobe. Then his teeth lightly graze it. “Run the answer.” He grazes his teeth again like he’ll really bite so I give in.
“Yeeesssss, sometimes,” I say and he still bites me lightly on my neck. “Tyriq!”
“I couldn’t help it,” he admits, then laughs. “I’m hungry. Shit. You had me putting in work.”
I start to sit up, forcing him to raise up too. “I told you I had food. I can warm it up,” I say then notice the time. It’s late. “Second thought. I can pack it up. Your curfew.”
“Fuck that curfew.”
“I know you don’t mean that at all.”
“Real shit, I do. Coach will be pissed but it’s not like he’s going to bench me. He wants the win. I’m not ready to go to the crib just yet.”
