Page 85 of The Last Man on Earth
I know, because I think I’ve lost mine.
“So you just gon’ deep throat my shit?” he demands as he grabs my hair in his fist. “Fuck. Where you want this nut?”
I point to my chest and commence to slurping and gagging on him. He thrusts himself into my mouth a few times, then pulls out and busts on my titties. I stand, staring him down as I lift them to my mouth and, one-by-one, lick his cum off.
I love the look in his eyes right now. It’s almost scary how intense it is. Like he fucking hates me. What it actually is, though, is that he loves me and hates that he’s not inside me right now.
He grabs my hand almosttooroughly. “Bring yo ass on,” he says as he pulls me toward the water. He stops at the shore to strip me out of my skirt and step out of his shorts. Then we wade right in.
After he rinses me off, he goes to his knees and eats both my pussy and my ass until I cum. I don’t even get the chance to recover before he has me in the air scrambling to wrap my legs around his waist as he lowers me onto him.
There’s just something about the way this manhandlesme. My God. Tossing me up and down, bouncing me on his dick, holding me steady with one hand and grabbing my neck with the other. He makes me cum again before he finally finishes, and then we go back home and sleep for several blissful hours.
Chapter 41
Vincent
The sky is onfire again.
It doesn’t happen all the time, but every now and then, the sun spreads the prettiest colors when it sets.
Ari loves this shit. The deep orange bleeding into pink, then purple, all melting down into the water.
“It’s so beautiful,” she gushes. “It’s even prettier than the last one.”
“Looks the same to me.”
She swats my shoulder. “Admit it. It’s beautiful.”
“It is. And it looks the same as the last one.”
“Shut up.”
I grab her thigh and kiss the inside. We’re out on the beach tonight, skin still damp from our baths. Ari’s sitting on a log, and I’m sitting between her legs getting my hair cornrowed.
“Do you miss rapping?”
“Where that come from?”
She humsI don’t know.
“I guess,” I say. “I ain’t had a chance to think about it.”
“I’ll be honest, babe. I only know like two of your songs, and that’s because of my nieces.”
“How old are they?”
“Twelve and fourteen.”
I turn to make a face at her. “They shouldn’t be listenin’ to my shit.”
“Thank you!” she says, laughing. “I told my sister that. But anyway, is all your music about sex, drugs, and murder, or just the ones I heard?”
“I don’t know which ones you heard,” I say with a little defensive edge creeping into my voice. “But most of ‘em, yeah. That’s what the people want.”
“So you rap about your past? How you grew up?”
“Honestly…nah. I mean, I grew up hard, but not the way most people think. My shit was rough emotionally. I lived in a house though. In the suburbs.”
