In a matter of minutes he tapped out, releasing an animalistic roar that could’ve waken up the whole beach house, mainly Trecee. One final stroke, he slammed into me. We were stuck like glue, but his nut filling me triggered my own orgasm. My whole body began to shake, as I fought the urge not to fall again.
We stayed still for a long moment, both if us, breathing hard, the water still cascading from the shower head. My heart was thumping loudly from ther back to back orgasm that rippled through me. I was spent.
Finally, he pulled out. He gained the strength to do so, because I heard hum muttering something about not wanting to. His nut started to leak out of me, mixing the water and running down my thighs. Our eyes never left each other’s. I was lost in a daze—looking at him like he was holding a clock—hypnotizing me.
“Let me wash you up.”
He released my arm and helped me adjust my posture as if I was a baby learning how to walk.
Delicately he washed me up. He treated my pussy so fragile. It was sore too, still thumping from the aftereffects of his big dick. His hands kneaded over my body, making me become relaxed. For good measure he kissed my pussy, because I flinched when he washed it. All while kissing my body and whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
I was getting to use to be in a universe where only we existed, then thoughts of Trecee came flooding into my mind, making my mood grow somber.
CHAPTER SIX
TRECEE JONES
My eyes cracked open, and the sunlight damn near blinded me. My mouth was dry as hell, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth like I’d been eating cotton balls all night. The melatonin knocked me the fuck out. I’d taken more gummies than I was supposed to.
Wiping my eyes, I squinted at the pinch of sunlight that was peeking through the blinds. I glanced over and frowned at the empty bed. I figured Romelo had gotten over his hump, but his feelings hadn’t changed. It was actually petty of him to get separate rooms, and I tried not to let it bother me on this trip. The mere thought of trying to brush it off made my stomach hurt. His distance was making my blood boil, and as much as I wanted to hold it in and not let it spill over, I wanted to cause a scene.
Sitting up, my head felt heavy, like somebody had stuffed it with rocks while I was sleeping. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess, but that shit wasn’t budging. Then I glanced at my phone on the nightstand and checked the time.
10:47 AM
I’d slept through everything.
I could hear voices outside—laughter, the clinking of dishes. They were already up, doing shit without me. My chest tightened. I threw the covers off and stumbled to the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror.
I looked like hell. My bonnet was halfway off. The baby hairs on my frontal were sticky from the glue and bent. My eyes were puffy too. I turned the nozzle and splashed cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up, trying to feel like myself again.
Bitch, get your shit together.
Nothing about this trip felt fun. Not with the way Romelo had been acting. Distant. Cold. Like I was some random bitch he was tolerating instead of his girl.
Nonetheless, I got my shit together—showered, washed my face, brushed and fixed my hair, and got dressed. My suitcase was filled with designer labels that Romelo purchased for me a while ago. It was among a lot of shit that he’d purchased for this trip. That was his thing, his love language—he loved to splurge.
I grabbed the 2PC set that I purchased from Neiman Marcus. It was beautiful and fit me so well. The floral one-piece pushed up my breasts, highlighting my fun-sized shape, matching the cover-up. My outfit was a perfect match for the green thong sandals. Looking in the mirror, I could tell that my weight was dropping. The last time I put this outfit on, it hugged my curves.
Stress. This was all caused by stress, and my unruly shift with Romelo.
When I walked out to the dining area, everybody was already eating breakfast. Romelo sat at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone like it was more interesting than anything happening around him. Synthia was laughing at something Mimi said, her head thrown back, all carefree and shit.Moon pie face ass bitch!
I hated how comfortable she looked. It made me regret inviting her in the first place.
“Morning,” I said, my voice coming out smaller than I wanted it to.
“Good morning…hey…morning,” sounded off dull, in ripples, around the kitchen. Romelo was the last one to speak. His voice was dull and low on energy. His phone was in his hand, and he hadn’t bothered to look from it to acknowledge me.
“Wassup.” He spoke.
I sat down next to him, not bothered with the many plates filled with breakfast on the counter and a glass of orange juice and mimosa in champagne flutes. I didn’t have an appetite right now. Scooting my chair closer, trying to close the gap between us.
“I didn’t sleep well, baby,” I mentioned to him, like he cared.
“Then you should’ve stayed woke,” he hissed, his voice annoyed. “Watch out.” He slightly shoved me, then stood up and walked away. My eyes, low and sad, followed him, tracing his steps until he exited the room.
“Maybe we should do the jet skis,” I heard Synthia utter.
