Page 33 of Certified Pressure 4
“Damn, Jayla, you can cook. You sure you ain’t a chef or somethin’?”
I laughed. “Nah, I just know how to throw a lil’ something together.”
We started talking about nothing, like music, Halo Key and how different island life was from the city. Lyrick had this charm that came naturally. He wasn’t trying to impress me, he was just being himself, and that made it worse. I kept reminding myself to focus on my plate and not the way his lips looked when he laughed.
At some point, he poured us drinks; just a little rum mixed with juice. The conversation stayed easy. He asked what brought me here, and I almost froze.
I lifted my glass and said quietly, “I just needed a fresh start.”
He nodded, waiting, and something about the way he looked at me made me keep talking. “My husband… he was killed. Wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t know what else to do, so I left. Halo Key felt like somewhere I could breathe again.”
Lyrick’s face softened. “Damn. That’s rough. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s alright,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m just tryna move forward, you know?”
He nodded again, and for a second the silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable. He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t. Instead, he just gave a slow nod and took another sip of his drink.
When we finished eating, I stood up to clear the plates. Lyrick got up too. “You cooked, so I’ll help with the dishes.”
“I got it,” I said.
He smirked. “You ain’t gotta act tough. I can wash dishes.”
We ended up side by side at the sink. I washed while he rinsed. The music still played low behind us, and every now and then our arms brushed. I tried to ignore the way my body reacted to him standing so close, but my heartbeat had other plans. He reached around me to grab a dish towel, and I felt the warmth of his chest against my back for a second longer than he needed to.
When I turned around, our faces were too close. Neither of us moved. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and I could feel that line we weren’t supposed to cross sitting right between us.
He took a small step forward, and I should’ve stepped back, but I didn’t. His hand came up slow, brushing my chin before heleaned in. The first kiss was soft, just a press of lips that sent my mind spinning. I pulled back fast, my chest tight with guilt.
“Lyrick…” I whispered.
He shook his head. “I know. I know.”
We both stood there breathing hard, staring at each other like the room had disappeared. I could still taste him. For a second, it felt like everything inside me wanted to lean back in, and when our eyes met again, that’s exactly what happened.
The second kiss wasn’t careful. It was hungry and wrong and perfect all at once. My hands gripped his shirt, his palms found my waist, and the warmth between us felt dangerous.
I knew this couldn’t go on, but in that moment, I wasn’t thinking. For the first time in a while, I felt wanted again, and I let myself get lost in it, just for a second.
When I pulled back and looked into his eyes, something in us broke loose. It wasn’t slow or careful. It was fire. It was a hunger that made it hard to breathe. Lyrick’s hands gripped my waist and pulled me close until my back hit the counter. His mouth found mine again, and this time the kiss was deep wet, and full of want. Our tongues were so tangled up that I could taste the liquor on his and feel his breath mixing with mine.
He kissed me like he was starving, or like he’d been waiting to lose control. His hands moved up my thighs, squeezing my hips until I gasped. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the heat coming off his skin, and the roughness of his beard brushing my chin. He pressed me harder against the counter, his body fitting against mine until I could feel his dick thick brushing my thigh. The heat of it sent a shiver through me. It felt heavy, long, and the size that made me know he would fill me completely once he was inside me.
The kitchen felt small and hot, the steam from the sink rising around us as his lips trailed down my neck. He sucked slow at first, then harder, his tongue dragging over my skin. I moanedbefore I could stop myself, my fingers sliding through his thick waves while his hands explored my body like he already knew every curve. When he gripped my ass, lifting me up, the sound that left me didn’t sound like guilt. It sounded like need.
He set me on the counter and stood between my legs, looking up at me with that wild look that made my stomach tighten. I felt his hand move under my dress, his fingers brushing the inside of my thigh until I trembled. He kissed me again, harder this time, his tongue sliding against mine until I couldn’t think straight.
When he pulled his sweatpants down and pushed his dick inside me, I gasped. I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, holding onto him as his dick thrust into me over and over again. The sound of his balls smacking against me, him breathing in my ear, the way he grunted when my pussy clenched around him, the rhythm of it all—it made my head spin.
He moaned between kisses as his hand gripped the back of my neck while his other held my thigh open. I could feel the sweat between us, and the pressure building with every stroke. The counter creaked beneath us. I bit his shoulder, trying to stay quiet, but he moved even deeper, and I couldn’t stop the sound that escaped my mouth.
When he slowed down, he looked at me like he couldn’t believe what we were doing. His thumb brushed my bottom lip, then he put it in my mouth and I sucked it while looking straight into his eyes. The way I did it made his breathing change. It made him grab my hips tighter and start moving even harder inside me. My body was still shaking and burning from how full I felt.
He stayed close, breathing against my neck while his hand moved through my hair. The world felt heavy and quiet again, like everything outside this kitchen had stopped existing. I could tell he was about to cum because his dick felt swollen inside of me. His grip on my throat tightened as he grunted, his strokeshitting deeper, faster, rougher. The sound of his skin clapping against mine filled the room, wet and heavy.
“Fuck, this pussy good,” he growled, his voice low and ragged as he drove into me harder.
I bit my lip, arching up to meet every thrust, my nails dragging across his back while my legs locked tighter around his waist. The passion between us was unbearable, my breath coming in shaky moans that mixed with his.
