“P’Nee, you talked big shit in the club. What did you say? You said that you would fuck me, right?” Bolt taunted as he stroked the inside of my pussy with his dick. “You ain’t fucked me yet, sweetheart. I’m doing the fucking so far.”
I wanted to talk shit back, but I couldn’t. This man of the most high had fucked the voice right out of me. He had me on my back with a leg cuffed in the cusp of his arm. His body was at this wicked angle that allowed him to punish a spot inside of me that I never realized existed. What put the cum on the dick was the fact that he talked shit in between kissing my body.
“Oh, oh, oh!” I felt my ass being saturated by my cum. “Bolt, Bolt! Wait, please.”
He stopped moving. His expression was filled with arrogance, lust, and satisfaction. “You know that you and this pussy are mine now. Fuck all that we’ll see what happens.” His strokes resumed at a slow, steady pace. “This is what happened. We decided to be together and rock this shit out.” He kissed my earlobe. “Please don’t make me come off the leash and show niggas I bark and bite.”
My body moved under his to match the beat of his strokes. His body moved to completely cover me. His eyes held mine, and I knew he awaited my response. I felt like I would be a fool not to give us a chance. I’d wanted him since I was a teenager, and now, I could have him. “I’m yours, Bolt. Make sure that you’re only mine, or I’ll be off my leash.”
He snickered without missing a beat with his stroke game. “You’ll never have a reason to get off the leash, P’Nee. When I commit, I commit. We committed as fuck, sweetheart.”
There was a sudden emptiness when he pulled out of me. The feeling was exchanged for his lips kissing down my body. When he got to that apex, my breath got caught in my chest. My spirit did a toe touch when his tongue flickered across my clit.
“Oh my God!” My back lifted from the bed. I was almost positive there were people in the hotel room next to us that had popcorn to the mere sound of our sex. I always thought that I was a quiet female when it came to sex. My past experiences told me that. I quickly learned that I just hadn’t been fucked in a way that made me want to rejoice with my voice.
For the rest of the morning, Bolt fucked me into a stupor. I wished that I could say that I fucked him back like the shit I talked in the club. I didn’t, but I wasn’t worried. I would have more than ample chances to do so.
A Short Time Later . . .
Life was great. It was better than great on every front of my life. My first year as principal had already proven to be a success. When I was in Georgia, one of the skills that I acquired was grant writing. I put that skill to use to gain sponsors and grants to helpHeritage of Excellence High Schoolexcel.
Our new robotics team was fully funded and sponsored by a Black-owned tech company that was worth billions. What I loved about the company was that they didn’t just give monetary support. They also provided mentorship. Once a month, they came to teach the students new things.
There was a state, regional, and a large robotics competition every year. In the memorandum of understanding that we had with the company, they agreed to fully fund all competition trips and supplies. Next month we were on our way to regionals after we won state last month.Florida, here we come.
The board was astonished at the upgrades that I made to the school in the short time that I was here, including the largest booster donation in the history of the school. I knew that when it came to private schools, especially ones that weren’t backed by students with rich parents, that it was just as much about incoming funds as it was about the test scores, student accolades, and achievements. We didn’t get the aid that publicly funded schools did.
On top of being the principal of a prestigious high school in a small town, I was also the girlfriend of Boltin Abloy. A lot of the people in town cared about that more than they did that I was the principal. It was interesting to see what people valued.
When I first moved here, people didn’t know my connection to the Nichols Farms. After all, it had been years since I was around. My grandmother died over a decade ago, and my last name was Anderson, not Nichols. The curtain was pulled back that Jordan Nichols’ daughter had moved back to Clover the week after Bolt and I became official. It was the talk of the town.
“Principal Anderson, you going to come down and do our signature cheer with us?” Janessa came over to where I sat in the stands to ask. Her smile beamed brightly.How can I say no to that beautiful smile?
“Yes, I will come down there and do the cheer. Y’all about to have these parents looking at me like I’m crazy,” I joked. These kids did a lot.
It was basketball season, and we were an undefeated team. We operated in excellence in everything that we did from academics to hobby clubs to sports. I attended every home game,no matter the sport. I felt that it was important for the teams to actively see my support. All the teams agreed that I would be assigned number one for the team. They had special jerseys made for me that read Dr. P. Anderson.
Janessa giggled. “Principal Anderson, you’re not going to look crazy at all. How is a former competition cheerleader look crazy cheerleading?”
I sucked my teeth at the call out as we walked down the bleacher stairs. We had a packed house tonight. “Don’t act like you know me, little girl.”
I cheered from seventh grade all the way through college. Most people when they looked at me just saw a full-figured woman, which I was. I was also a fairly in shape, full-figured woman. I didn’t work out like I used to when I cheered, but I still walked and did a little strength training here and there. My eating habits were iffy, but food was my weakness. My baby loved my thickness. One of my favorite things that he did was squeeze my fupa when he was hitting it from the back.
My baby had business that he had to handle at his Charleston restaurant location, so he wasn’t here tonight. He, too, had been at every home game with me. I loved that he cheered on the team and supported me as an educator. Bethany, Jojo, and Josh came to games as well. Hell, anywhere Jojo was, Josh would be, trying to get her to be his woman.
Bethany and I became close since our weekend in Charlotte. She was such an amazing woman, and so was Jojo. We brunched almost every weekend and talked on the phone every day or group texted.
When we got down to the rest of the squad, Janessa told them that I would cheer. They all jumped around with excitement. The coach told me that she would also cheer with us. “Let me stretch so I don’t wake up in the morning crying,” I told them.
After ten minutes and a stretch, it was halftime. The Heritage Eagles were tearing the other school’s asses up! When the announcer let the crowd know that I was cheering with the squad, the crowd went crazy. This would be the first time that the students outside of the cheer squad saw me cheer. Once a week, I went to their practices and practiced with them. That was a part of my workout regimen.
Seconds later, we were engulfed in our signature cheer. I was proud of myself because ya girl still had it. When I let off a set of tumbles, the crowd didn’t know how to act. My teachers, including the cheer coach, had wide eyes and opened mouths.
After we left the court, the game got back underway. When the cheer coach gave me a bottle of water, I wanted to give her a raise. I tried to act like the performance didn’t take the life out of me.
“Um, excuse me. Do you think that it’s appropriate to be doing all of that shaking, gyrating, and flipping in front of students?” a female voice asked from behind me. Her face was tight when I turned around to see who it was.
I took a subtle breath before I plastered a smile on my face. “Hi, how are you? I’m sorry, what was your question again?”
