“Wah yuh just say?” I ask, slamming into her harder.
She cries out, voice shaky. “I… I said I might.”
I lose it. I yank her back, her spine pressed to my chest now, one arm locked around her stomach, the other between her legs. I keep pounding into her, jaw tight, her moans wild, sloppy, raw.
“You like disrespect man?” I bite her shoulder through the dress.
“Oh someone can’t handle what they dish out?” she fires back, breathless.
“Gwaan talk man.” she tries, but the words leave her in moans. My fingers rub her clit while my dick strokes her deep, brutal, and unrelenting.
“Nickoi—”
“Don’t cum yet,” I order.
“I—I can’t hold it.”
“Zara?” It comes out cold.
She responds in a desperate plea. “Mmm?”
“Wah mi say?!” Her legs start trembling.
I feel her body trying to give in. I flip her again, this time lifting her onto the table in the corner of the room. She’s wild now, hair a mess, makeup smudged, dress halfway up, panties twisted. I slide back inside her, her arms flying around my neck as I drill into her deeper, her heels digging into my back.
“Look inna mi eyes.” She tries. “Don’t look away.”
She locks eyes with me, moaning my name with every stroke. “I said… don’t. look. away.”
She gasps, her body tensing under me. “O-okay,” she finally whispers, the fight slipping from her lips. “I love you.”
“I know,” I breathe, pounding into her until she shatters. Loud. Wet. Shaking. I come right after, groaning her name in her ear as I spill inside her, holding her tight like I can’t stand another inch of space between us.
For a moment, we both just breathe, chests rising and falling. I brush her hair from her face, still holding her on the table.
She looks up at me with tired, satisfied eyes.
“You see how yuh attitude gone now?” I smirk.
She rolls her eyes but her smile betrays her. “Whatever.”
I chuckle, pull her closer, and kiss her forehead. “Don’t make man affi remind yuh who yah dealid yer?”
***
As I pull the zip up, I watch her through the mirror. She’s lying on her stomach, scrolling through my phone. “Psssst,” I say low, and she glances up, smiling, then she tilts her head.
“Nickoi… yuh ever come in this room before?”
I did. Countless times with Juaqína. But I knew why she asked, and hurting her feelings wasn’t worth the honesty. “No,” I lie.
“It’s just… yuh move like yuh know the place. Yuh never even ask fi key or nothing.”
I turn to her. “Mi own the club… mi just don’t monitor it like I should. Gutta handle the check-ins.”
She looks up, surprised. Then nods. “Oh… nice.”
“Yah,” I answer, just before a knock hits the door. “Who dat?” I ask, a brow up.
