“When my mother died, I just knew my life was over. I thought nothing could ever break me more than that. Then my brother—”
“The one who was here?”
I shook my head because I almost never talked about Mison. “My older brother, Mison. It really hit him when she died. It had gotten so bad that he, too, had a vice, and that was the bottle. For him, if the answer was no or the resolution didn’t result in anything good, he would cling to that fucking bottle. That’s when I really held on to basketball. It was supposed to save my life. I was so desperate to make it into the league that I would do anything, even use my baby brother to get me through school.”
She palmed my face, pulling my head up. “You didn’t?”
I stared into her eyes and nodded. “I did, baby. It wasn’t until recently, when you had your moment, that I realized I, too, had a coping mechanism. Now it may not be as extreme as yours or my brother's, but it’s basketball. It blocked out all the noise. It was my lover, my comfort, and my peace. It took away the memories of my mother, it took the pain of watching my brother’s demise, and it held me hostage so much that I used my fucking baby brother. Now here I am with a fucked-up ankle and can’t play. This is what it looks like not having your vice. But you and taking accountability are what’s saving me,” I explained.
Her eyes softened on me. “Xavier, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
PRESS PLAY
“I don’t need sorries or pity because I put myself in this situation. I just need a girl who understands me and knows that under all this, a nigga’s heart is pure. I’m not asking for love, Phoebe, because that takes time. However, I’m asking for your loyalty, friendship, comfort, and maybe some of that juicy pussy sometimes. Nah, but for real, I want Phoebe and every single piece of her, so when you’re ready to share, you share. I want us to have organic chemistry like sodium and chlorine.” I smiled.
A grin eased on her face. “Or like Rubidium and Bromine. Or Carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen. Or—”
I placed my finger on her lips. “Slow down, little Einstein. Damn, you’re trying to give a nigga the whole periodic table. How about like pussy and dick? I heard they fuck well together.” I winked.
It felt good to be heard. Hell, it felt even better to have someone whose company I enjoyed. Someone to be the one to hear me. I moved my finger and kissed her. This time, when we kissed, a nigga felt a flutter or some shit. We sucked each other up as she struggled to take off the shorts. Instead, I hiked her up, pulled the condom from my pocket, opened it, whipped it out, and slid it on.
“Roll them muhfuckas all the way up,” I whispered.
She rolled one side of the shorts all the way up, then came down slowly on top of me.
“Shit,” I hissed.
My hell fell back as Phoebe’s pussy started to become like the elements she spoke of that matched so well. We were like the perfect broken pair who made each other whole. Her hips began to move in a circular motion before she came up, then back down. My hand eased up to her hair, and I gripped her ponytail, bringing her face closer toward mine. She kissed me nastily while fucking a nigga good.
Circle, up, then down.
“Got that bih sounding like mac and cheese,” I grunted.
Circle, up, then down.
She giggled with her lips still on mine. “What nigga you know don’t like mac and cheese? I got the best.”
Circle, up, then down.
I scooted toward the edge of the couch with one arm wrapped around her waist while the other pressed into the pillow. I began slinging her body back and forth. “Ooo wee. I-I-I,” she went into a vibrato.
“Less talking, more fucking.”
I closed my eyes. What we were creating was like magic. I liked Phoebe a lot. We were locked in, and I prayed with every stroke I gave, every opened ear when she spoke, every sweet kiss to her lips that she knew I was ready for the title. Phoebe was my girl with or without words.
She pulled the sweater off, then reached out to pull my shirt off.
Skin to skin.
“I want to feel every part of you,” she moaned.
Her skin was soft to the touch. Both our eyes closed as we fucked a hole into her couch. I needed more leverage, so I stood up, squatted low, applied more pressure than I should have to my ankle, and gave Phoebe the dick she craved. Her moans turned into screams, and my grunts turned into moans. With a few more strokes, she and I had cum together. When we were done, I fell back on the couch out of breath.
“Shit!” I huffed, exasperated.
She laughed. “That was good,” she panted.
“Wait until this boot is off. It’s game time then.”
