His pants and briefs hit the floor, cock heavy and swinging as he strides over, ready to be worshipped.
I lean forward, my knees spread around the pillow, grip his thighs, and take him into my mouth. Sucking softly, tongue tracing, coaxing. My thumbs roll his sac, lifting to tease the tender skin beneath.
“Jesus, Lot…” His hand cups the back of my neck. “You ain’t playin’, baby.”
The phallic part of the toy vibrates deep, while the rabbit end pulses against my clit, working me inside and out. I moan around his cock, syncing every grind of my hips with the hollowing of my cheeks.
Dice groans, hips thrusting. Muscles tight and straining.
I rock harder and faster.
“Do it, baby,” he grits out. “Come while you’re sucking me off. I want to see it. Feel those waves roll through you while my cock’s down your throat.”
His command ratchets up my pleasure. I swallow him deeper, tongue skating veins and ridges. My thighs tremble, my whole body on the brink. His hand on my nape tightens as his other hand squeezes my breast, rolling my nipple. I moan, high and ragged, and that’s it?—
I climax on a slow, punishing quake. Not the crashing kind, but sharp, body-splitting tremors.
He snaps.
Pulls out and flips me off the pillow so fast it hits the floor with a thud. Still standing, he spreads my legs apart, drapes them over his shoulders, and drags me to the edge of the bed.
“I’m about to outperform Humphrey’s ass.”
Then he plunges in—and proves it.
We wake the same way we fell asleep. With Dice on top. Slow, sinuous morning sex that stretches into noon and jumpstarts the day with a bang.
Queenie meows with delight over Dice’s nuked eggs, scarfing them down like it’s a gourmet meal. I whip up waffles while he handles the coffee and cleanup. Easy. Domestic. Comfortable.
Later, I show him the finished hair salon mural. He praises the art, snapping pictures, and I brim with pride. Dice respects my work. He respects me. With him, I never feel like I have to shrink any part of myself.
I’ve been with men who thought I was too independent. Too blunt. Too ambitious. Too sexual. Just… too much. Men who tried to whittle down my edges to fit their expectations.
Dice doesn’t want to change or control me. He accepts me as I am. Messy, chaotic, sharp corners and all. I’m falling more in love with him each day. But long distance isn’t built to last. He’s just starting to get a taste of New York. The kind of parties he could have here. Soulidify already said he’d have him back anytime. I saw Dice on that stage, saw the thrill in his eyes. This could be his world. Our world. We could be a real creative team. Here. Together.
That thought spins in my head as we wander hand in hand through Brooklyn, past spots Biggie immortalized in his songs.
Dice glances over at me. “What’s on your mind, Web?”
“Nothing.”
He arches a brow. “You forget how well I know you. I can feel you thinking.”
“It’s nothing we need to talk about now.”
“If it’s on your mind, we should talk about it.”
“I don’t wanna come off clingy.”
“You are the least clingy woman I know. Talk to me, Web.”
My heart gives a sharp twist. “I was just thinking about how good this feels. Being with you. Here. And how hard it’s gonna be to say goodbye in a few days. It’ll probably be weeks before we see each other again. I know it’s early, we just started this new dynamic, but…”
“But what?” His voice is thick.
“I’m worried the distance will eventually wear us down. Put a strain on our relationship. We’re both rooted where we are. And once we hit that crossroads, one of us will have to move, or…” I let silence finish the sentence.
Dice slows, pulling me to a stop in front of a bodega. Grilled meats from the cart beside it scent the air with Middle Eastern spices, but all I notice is the hard line of his jaw and the clench of his fingers around mine.
