I pushed his head back gently. “Fine. You can eat it.”
He froze. His eyes widened. “For real?”
“Yes.”
“But…” I lifted a finger, “you gotta put a condom on.”
He blinked like I slapped him.
“On my mouth?”
“No, idiot,” I said. “On your dick in case you get carried away.”
He leaned back like he heard the worst news of his life. “Pluto, I’m not puttin’ no condom on my dick to eat your pussy.”
“Then I guess you don’t want none.”
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Then he ran his tongue over his teeth slow, annoyed but turned on, looking like he was weighing the options in his head.
“You really gon’ cockblock us like this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He dragged a hand down his face and muttered something under his breath that sounded like a prayer and a threat at the same time.
But his eyes were hungry, soft and obsessed.
“A’ight,” he said finally, his voice low as he crawled up the bed. “But I’m warnin’ you now, baby. If I put that condom on, I’m still eatin’ you like a nigga that’s been missin’ you for months.”
I bit my lip while he hovered over me, kissin’ the inside of my knee slow and deep like he had all night to convince me otherwise.
“Pressure,” I whispered, my voice shaking in a way I hoped he didn’t catch. But he did.
He smirked.
“You already foldin’,” he murmured against my thigh. “And I ain’t even touched your pussy yet.”
And as his mouth dragged higher, my body told me I was in more trouble than I wanted to admit.
I reached over, grabbed the box of condoms I bought and slid it across his chest.
“Then put it on,” I said.
He laughed low, like he couldn’t believe I was making him do this, but he opened the box and tore the wrapper with his teeth while keeping his eyes locked on me with that playful, dominant glow burning behind them.
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Mensah.”
And I knew right then…
I was done for.
“Pressure,” I moaned, digging my nails into his waves as his mouth worked slow between my thighs.
He had my legs propped on his shoulders, and every time his tongue brushed that same soft spot on my pussy, my hips lifted straight off the mattress. He was taking his time and kissing me like he missed the taste of me in ways he couldn’t say out loud, letting every slow, deep lick tell me exactly who he was to me and who I was to him.
