He bites his lip. Rolls his hips just right. And my whole body seizes. Stars, sparks, everything bursting behind my eyes. My orgasm hits like a wave, crashing through me in trembling pulses.
He knows. So he doesn’t stop. He chases it. Makes it deeper.
“Nickoi…” I whisper again. And again. My walls clench, my body shaking.
Then he pulls out. The loss is sudden, jarring but before I can even breathe, I’m squirting. My eyes squeeze shut, legs shaking.
“Nickoi—” I grab for him.
“Mi deh yah, mami.” He kisses my forehead, holding me tight as I ride the last of my high. Then I feel it. The warm, heavy rush inside me. His release. His veins, pumping against my walls. The rhythm. His relief.
He groans. It’s so low and sexy. His eyes meet mine. Like a dark, wild, glare. I know him too well. Behind that, I saw it. He’s in love.
I place my hand over my lips.“Why you a look at me like dat?” I whisper, my cheeks warm, lips trembling.
He brushes a damp curl off my face. “Dis… dis a why mi like missionary wid yuh,” he says softly. “Mi get fi look inna yuh pretty eyes… and watch how yuh fall apart for me.”
I just smile. Melted. Completely his.
I felt seen. Wanted. Loved. In the way only he could love me.
***
Nickoi lies beside me, one arm draped over my waist as I scroll through Instagram. His body’s heat clings to me like the sheets, and I’m trying not to notice how good he smells even after all that work he put in. He shifts slightly, eyes fluttering open before locking on to me, heavy, smoldering.
Then he smirks. Without warning, he reaches over and locks off my phone.
“Nickoi,” I whine, turning it back on.
His eyes don’t move. His stare is magnetic, like he’s peeling the distractions off me one layer at a time.
“A me yuh fi a look pon,” he says, voice low and teasing. The way he says it sends a slow heat crawling under my skin.
I roll my eyes, trying not to let my blush show. “Mi tired a see yuh.”
He doesn’t answer. Just smiles, slow, knowing, the kind of smile that knows it owns a part of you. I glance back at my phone to distract myself, but my smile betrays me.
“Yuh seh yuh tired a see mi,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly, “but yuh neva tired fi moan mi name…” He clears his throat dramatically. “I mean… call mi name.”
I gasp, shoving him playfully, but my cheeks are hot. My legs press together under the sheet without meaning to.
“I hate you, Nickoi,” I laugh, my voice breathy and too soft to be convincing.
He climbs out of the bed slowly, the sheets tugging with him, revealing the curve of his back and the way his muscles stretch when he pulls his shorts on. His body was carved for sin.
“Wah time b?” he asks, turning back toward me, shirt in his hand, abs flexing as he speaks.
“Nine,” I manage, throat dry.
“Yuh eat breakfast?”
I nod, eyes dropping to his hands. So big.
Long time she eat Nickoi
“Wah yuh eat?” he asks, sitting back down on the bed, close enough to feel the shift in the mattress, far enough to tease.
“Plantains,” I reply, wrapping the sheet tighter over my chest when his eyes linger.
