My words make me pulse, deep and rhythmic. He sits up, hands firm on my sides, lifting me with ease. I hold the back of his head, kissing him slow, tongue soft, lips heavy with need, as he carries us out to the balcony. The air is cooler out here, but my skin stays hot. My feet hit the cold marble, and he sets me down gently.
“Stand up,” he says, his voice gone serious.
I obey. No questions.
“Hold the rail.” I step forward and grip the cool metal. My almond-shaped nails dig in slightly, anticipation rushing in.
“Bend over,” he says behind me, voice low and certain. “Spread yuh legs.”
I arch. Just enough. I know that he likes this angle, the curve of my back. My eyes lock on the view: the infinity pool glowing below, security posts tucked in shadows to the left, city lights dancing in the distance.
And then I feel him.
His hands palm my cheeks, spreading them wide, and his fingers part me slow, patient. I hold my breath as he lines up with my center, and then he enters. He doesn’t ease in. He claims me. My muscles tighten around him, and he sinks deeper, until he brushes the place that makes my breath catch every time.
“Y-yes…” I moan, my head lolling to the side, hair spilling to the floor.
He grips my hips, wide and firm, then leans down and sucks the side of my neck hard, marking me, grinding deep against my G-spot like he’s trying to imprint himself into my soul. He’s not just f***ing me. He’s letting off steam. This isn’t soft. This isn’t slow. This is him using my body like it’s the only thing anchoring him from rage. His thrusts are sharp, deliberate like he’s still fighting something.
I can’t hold it back. I curse under my breath, orgasm snapping through me like lightning, knees threatening to buckle. My vision blurs. I can’t even see him, but I know, I know his face is twisted in pleasure. He’s in his zone. Losing himself in mine.
Another slap. Loud. Rough. I turn to look back at him, and his eyes are closed brows furrowed, lips parted, face locked in ecstasy. His abs flex with each stroke, his grip on my hips tightening as he pounds into me like he’s chasing something. My thighs shake against the railing. The glass groans under us, and I pray it holds. The way he’s moving… it’s like he’s trying to shatter everything in his path except me.
Then he stills. Buried deep. Not pulling out. And God… that pause wrecks me. The stillness, the stretch, the tension. I feel the next climax rising fast, like it’s being summoned. He stays frozen for a second too long, and my body tightens around him, close to the edge. And right as I hit the brink—
He starts again.
Pounding unapologetically.
“Nickoi!” I cry out, my voice echoing off the walls, off the city, off the night.
I grip the rail tighter as he picks up pace, his hand reaching back to grab both my arms and pin them behind me. He doesn’t stop. The rhythm is ruthless. Perfect. Deep. Intentional. Until, my climax hits like a wave knocking me off my feet.
I collapse.
My legs give out. Arms trembling. Chest heaving. The marble against my knees. I can barely think. Barely breathe.
He holds me from behind, chest pressed to my back, breath warm against my shoulder. “You good?” he whispers.
I nod, weak, dazed. He kisses my spine. The back of my neck, then I turn to face him. He leans in, and presses his forehead to mine. “Yav’ mi heart.”
As he sits on the lounge chair, he wraps his arms around me, eyes trailing down my body, but I tuck myself into his chest, face pressed against his warmth. I listen to his heartbeat, tracing the ink along his skin with gentle fingers, grounding myself.
“Yuh good, Mami?” he asks, voice huskier than I’ve ever heard it.
Awww, Nickoi.
I look up at him, smiling hard despite the ache between my legs. “I’m good… just sore.”
He leans in again, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Then he does it again.
I melt. He looks down at me, his smirk creeping in. “Mi wah try suh’m new wid yuh.”
Wah dat now?
I start blushing. “And what’s that?” I ask, stepping into the room behind him, then as he slips on his robe. He passes me mine, it’s black, matching his.Ugh. Men and their little plans.
He opens a door and glances at me over his shoulder, grinning. “Yuh feel sore… yuh forget say we have a Jacuzzi?”
