“Halo, you don’t need to look any fuckin further for anything anymore. I’m him and gon do whatever I have to keep a smile on your face.”
A giggle escaped my lips because how did I make it this long without these vibes?
The air shifted the second he got between my legs. It felt heavier, loaded with intent. His breath hit the inside of my thighs, and every reason we shouldn’t be doing this here disappeared. If he said this was his shit, it was his shit. There was nothing I could do to stop him from feasting on me.
“I could eat this pussy every day,” he said, dragging me to the edge of the desk. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting them over his shoulders, and the second his breath hit me, my whole body tightened.
“DaVinci…” I tried to say his name, but it came out soft. Shaky. Useless.
He didn’t answer. He just held my hips, opened me wider, and licked my pussy from front to back. One long, slow stroke stole every thought I had in that moment. His thick tongue alternated between licking and snaking around my clit. I jerked at the light suction. His whole face was in it—nose, beard, lips, tongue. He hadn’t missed one inch of my flesh.
He tightened his hold, locking me in place while he ate me with a focus that made my stomach dip. My hips tried to run, but he dragged me right back, tongue pushing inside me, slow strokes turning into deeper ones, tongue-fucking me until my legs shook against his shoulders.
When I looked down, he was already watching me.
Eyes dark.
Jaw hard.
Face buried in my pussy like it was a meal he demanded silence for.
Outside the office, the city kept moving—phones ringing, people typing, conversations happening—but in here, none of that mattered. It was just us. My moans. His breath. The wet sounds of him devouring me.
Istood behind Halo with my arms wrapped around her waist while she studied the movie listings. My chin rested on her head, and that new scent she had on was all in my head, tangling my thoughts. We’d been standing like this for a solid three minutes, and I wasn’t complaining. I loved how her soft body felt against mine.
Renaissance Theatre was one of those places that felt like stepping back in time. Black-owned since the seventies, they only showed Black films, mostly classics, with the occasional new release that deserved the big-screen treatment. Today’s lineup was straight nostalgia: Love Jones, The Wood, New Jack City, and Just Wright. It was no wonder she hadn’t made a decision.
“Are you waiting for one to jump at you, baby?” I whispered in her ear. She leaned back and looked up. I could get lost in her eyes, and I was honestly in awe that we had gotten to this point. I was sure the shit I’d pulled would’ve ruined any chance of being her man, earning her trust, and one day her heart.
“I’m being thorough. This is important.”
“It’s a movie, Angel. Not a life decision.”
“Movies are life decisions. Pick wrong, and you waste two hours you can’t get back.” She pointed at the screen. “And these are all good. How amI supposed to choose between Love Jones and The Wood? Hell, even The Photograph.”
“That is a tough call.”
“Right? Love Jones is romantic as hell. But The Wood is funny and nostalgic and—” She turned her head slightly to look at me. “What would you pick?”
“Honestly? Just Wright.”
“The Queen Latifah one?”
“Yeah. I’m a sucker for that one. Basketball, romance, and good music. It’s a whole vibe.”
She smiled. “I didn’t peg you for a romantic.”
“I got layers, Lo.” I kissed her neck again. “Plus, I like watching basketball movies now that I don’t have to think about my own game. Makes it easier to just enjoy the story.”
“Just Wright it is, then.”
“You sure? I know you wanted Love Jones, and I really don’t care what we watch as long as I’m watching with you.”
“I can watch Love Jones anytime. Besides, I want to see you watching a movie about yourself.”
“It’s not about me.”
“A basketball player falls for a physical therapist? That’s basically your life minus the physical therapist part.”
