Now it was getting old.
I knew it had something to do with her ex. That Ahmad nigga who used to beat on her and take that pussy. She’d told me bits and pieces, enough for me to understand that she had trauma around being vulnerable, being dominated, being out of control. And I played the supportive boyfriend role perfectly. Told her I understood. Told her we could take it slow. Told her I’d never pressure her.
But inside? I was counting down the days until she’d trust me enough to really let go.
They always gave in eventually. I just had to be patient.
We made it to the bedroom and she pushed me onto the bed, climbing on top of me with that look in her eyes that was part desire, part fear, part need for control. I let her take the lead, let her set the pace, let her think she was running things.
She rode me slow at first, then faster, her hands planted on my chest, her head thrown back. I watched her body move—those hips, that ass, those titties bouncing—and tried to enjoy it. Tried not to think about how much better it would be if I could just flip her over, grip those hips, and?—
But nah. Not yet.
I’d get there. I always did.
She came with a shudder, collapsing against my chest, breathing hard. I finished a minute later—not my best work, but good enough.
We lay there in the dark, her head on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. I stared at the ceiling, already thinking about tomorrow. About Kacey. About money. About how long I could keep this juggling act going.
“That was amazing,” Mehar murmured.
“Mmhmm.”
“I’m so glad you came over. I needed this.”
“Me too, baby.”
She snuggled closer. “Tomorrow we’re going out though, right?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.”
Lie. Easy as breathing.
I’d have a “work emergency” in the morning. Something with the club. She’d be disappointed but understanding because that’s who she was, a good girl who believed the best in people, even when they didn’t deserve it.
Especially when they didn’t deserve it.
She fell asleep not long after, her breathing going soft and even. I lay there for a while, enjoying the silence, when my phone lit up on the nightstand.
Kacey.
11:47 PM.
Mehar stirred beside me. “Who’s that?”
“Nobody. Just work.” I reached for the phone, silencing it. But she’d already seen the screen.
“Who’s Kacey?”
“Someone who works at the club.” The lie came out smooth, automatic. “Bartender. She’s always got questions about the schedule.”
“At midnight?”
“Service industry, baby. Weird hours.” I kissed her forehead, already sliding out of bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m gonna take this outside so I don’t wake you up.”
She looked at me for a moment with something flickering in her eyes that might have been doubt, but then she nodded and rolled over, pulling the covers up to her chin.
I grabbed my phone and stepped out onto her balcony, closing the door behind me before I called Kacey back.
