He chuckles, and it’s a dangerous sound. The rumble in his voice sends tremors all over my body. He lowers himself onto the couch and slides to the other end. He keeps his eyes on me, and I know he’s checking to see if I’m serious. I raise my chin.
He nods silently and rests his weight on the armrest. “Handle it then.”
I clench my jaw.
“Go on,” he purrs. “Show me what you like.”
I’m not gonna make this easy for him. I take it slow, toying with my lace thong. I pull it forward and spread my thighs, giving him the perfect view. His Adam’s apple bobs.
I can’t focus on my body and its needs when I’m staring into the eyes of a man I want to jump, especially when he looks like he could devour me at any second.
I close my eyes, and I’m back in the room at Cole’s house. I remember my excitement and then the shock of being discovered so vulnerable. His words scream in my ears.
“Moyo.” Niyi’s voice brings me out of the memory. I open my eyes, and I’m staring, not into pale blue orbs devoid of joy but warm, chocolate eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” The huskiness in his voice is gone, and all that remains is care.
I choke back the unease. “I’m good. Zoned out a bit,” I say with a tentative smile. It’s not real, but I hope he accepts it.
Fuck Cole. It’s some bullshit that the first time I try to get back to myself sexually, I’m reminded of that horrible night.
“We don’t—” he begins.
“No!” I yell a little too loudly. “Didn’t peg you for the running-away type,” I say, trying to brush off the awkwardness and reignite the passion my trauma pushed aside.
One thing I adore about Niyi is he always follows my segues.
“Oh, I don’t run away. If you ever want to share, I’m here,” he whispers, settling back into his seat. He watches me for another second, searching for a crack, making sure I’m okay. I am okay. I have to be okay.
Suddenly, he stands up.
“Thought you said you don’t run,” I comment.
He whips his shirt off and throws it to the side. “Does this look like running off?”
I’m too mesmerized to pay attention to his words. He is perfectly sculpted, with thick muscles, a densely packed torso, and exquisite, rich dark skin. He’s stunning. His pants soon join his shirt in the pile. Standing in black boxer briefs, with shimmers of moonlight and his gold chain illuminating his skin, Niyi looks like a god. I can’t help but stare in awe. After that holy demonstration, he plops onto the couch like nothing happened. He spreads his legs wide and palms a prominent bulge that I somehow failed to notice.
My mouth runs dry. I reach for the long-forgotten wine and take a gulp. He doesn’t comment, just closes his eyes and gets busy. Groans fill the silence.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He takes his time opening his eyes. “Giving you a show. What does it look like?”
I blink rapidly. “Why?”
“I asked you to show me what you like, and now I’m showing you what I like. I can stop. We can stop. It’s up to you.”
I can’t believe he’s doing this to make me comfortable. “No, no, carry on.” I beam. “But first, let me get you some things.”
I hurry into my pristine bedroom and reach for the lube and wipes in my bedside drawer. I also grab my bullet vibrator, just in case. He’s staring aimlessly at the ceiling when I return, but his eyes brighten when they land on me. “Now you can begin.”
He squeezes lube into his hand. “Your wish is my command.” His hand goes inside his briefs and he turns the heat up with a moan.
I’ve always enjoyed it when my partner watches me. There’s something powerful about controlling my pleasure and starring in a spectacle that makes someone salivate. However, being on the other side of the equation is something I can get into. His eye contact alone makes me squirm in my seat, and we’re not even a minute in. His tortured, heavy, lust-filled stare is irresistible, and I find myself itching to join in. So I do, closing my eyes as my fingers get to work.
“Don’t look away,” he commands. “Keep your focus on me while I keep mine on you. I’m here for you. You’re safe.”
He slows down to marvel at me. “You’re perfect. I can’t wait to taste you. You deserve this,” he coos. My body unwinds with every affirmation. “I wish you could see how you look right now. You’re perfect, Moyo, absolutely perfect.” My legs tremble, and I struggle to keep eye contact. He looks so golden despite being utterly disheveled.
“Breathe with me. Breathe,” he repeats, taking a dramatic inhale, and I follow suit. “You almost there?”
