I went toward the door, and as I slipped into my slides, Khiya looked perplexed.
“I think you forgot something,” she said.
“I don’t need my keys to?—”
“I’m not talking about your keys.”
“Baby, they’re waiting downstairs.”
She reached under the T-shirt she wore, slipping one arm out of the sleeve, followed by the other. When she pulled it over her head, I was utterly confused.
“Your fine ass ain’t about to roam these halls shirtless. Put this on.”
She approached me, naked as the day she was born, her hips and breasts swaying, and pressed the shirt against my chest. When she turned to walk away, I caught the shirt before it hit the floor. I froze as my eyes zeroed in on her plump ass as she sashayed back to the kitchen.
“You play too much,” I said as I pulled the shirt over my head.
“Who’s playing? And don’t let me find out you're running up and down these halls half naked when I’m not around. You might see a side of me you won’t like.”
“Shit. You got me intrigued now.”
“Sir, go get the damn groceries. I’m hungry.”
It took me about five minutes to pick up the groceries from the front desk and get back to my condo due to waiting for the elevator. I grinned wide as hell when I saw Khiya bending over in my living room, looking at the pictures I had on one of the shelves.
“Damn, baby. I could get used to that view.”
She turned around and put her right hand on her hip. My eyes traveled the length of her body, and I bit my bottom lip. Khiya was beautiful, and I could easily stare at her for hours on end and find something new to love about her.
“Can I have my shirt back now?” she asked flirtatiously.
I finally secured the door and walked toward her.
“I don’t know, baby. The thought of you cooking naked does something to me.”
When we were close enough to touch, I grabbed her by the waist and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sure it does, but you’re not about to have me in the kitchen naked, cooking stir fry. Plus, it’s unhygienic.”
I chuckled because she had a point. I took her hand, and we went to the kitchen. I placed the grocery bag on the counter and removed the T-shirt. While she covered up, I began unpacking the groceries.
We decided to make a chicken stir fry with sweet chili sauce, brown rice, and a variety of vegetables. Everything we needed was on the counter, and after washing our hands, we got to work.
“Can we listen to music?” she asked.
“Whatever you want, baby. My phone is on the counter over there. It’s already connected to the kitchen speakers. You just have to turn them on.”
“What’s your passcode?”
“I don’t have one.”
She dried her hands on a paper towel, turned on the speakers, and then retrieved my phone. A few minutes later, a song by Meg Thee Stallion replaced the silence.
“Ayeeee!” Khiya sang with her tongue out as she began to twerk.
“Damn! That’s how you get down?”
She danced in my direction, turned around, pressed her ass against my dick, and proceeded to make it clap all over my shit. I saw what kind of time she was on, and I was sure she didn’t think I’d join her.
