“I hope it’s not another gift.”
“And if it is?”
“Sylas, you don’t have to buy me gifts. I already like you.”
He laughed. “I like you, too, and that’s all the more reason to shower you with gifts.”
“But I haven’t gotten anything for you.”
“That’s not necessary. All I want is you, baby. Do you want to see what I got for you or not?”
“I mean, since you went through the trouble.”
He stood, and I waited anxiously until he returned with a plain brown box and a pair of scissors. He placed the box on my lap with the scissors on top and sat next to me, leaving very little space.
I was giddy as I opened the box and looked inside, finding a Nike box. I hurriedly reached inside, pulled the box out, and snatched off the lid. I gasped when I saw the shoes inside.
“You did not get me the Travis Scott Fragments. Oh my God, Sylas.”
“I came across them when I was in New York and thought they’d be a nice addition to your collection.”
“Baby, these are not shoes you just come across.”
He shrugged. “That’s what happened.”
“I don’t believe you, but it doesn’t matter. You are literally the sweetest and most thoughtful human ever. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
As much as I wanted to try the shoes on and prance around his bedroom, I had to show my man some love and appreciation, and I knew exactly how I would do it.
After Khiya damnnear swallowed my dick whole to show her appreciation for the shoes I bought for her, we spent the rest of the morning and afternoon trying to get in each other’s skin. I couldn’t get enough of her, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. My desire for her was nothing like anything I’d ever experienced.
I wanted to open my eyes and see her lying next to me, to reach over and touch her silky, smooth skin, to bury my face between her thighs and taste her in the middle of the night or day, and to smell her essence on my top lip every time I inhaled.
I wanted Khiya in ways I’d never wanted another woman, and although the feeling was foreign, I welcomed it. I was ready for the kind of love I knew was growing between us, and I looked forward to it being reciprocated.
“Can we stay in for dinner? I’m too tired to get dressed up to go out,” she said, her head resting on my chest.
I’d lost count of how many rounds we went, but it was safe to say we were both tapped out.
“We can do whatever you want, baby. You want to cook something together?”
She looked up at me with a smile.
“That sounds fun. I’ve never cooked with a man before. What should we cook?”
“What do you have a taste for?”
“Hmm. Do you like stir fry?”
“Yeah, but I’ll have to get some groceries delivered.”
I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and opened the grocery store app I use most frequently. For the next few minutes, we determined what we needed to make our meal, and I dropped them in the cart. After placing the grocery order, we showered. Khiya donned one of my T-shirts, while I wore basketball shorts.
In the kitchen, I pulled out all the pans, utensils, and seasonings we’d need, and before long, I was notified our grocery order had arrived.
“I’ll be right back, baby.”
