“What you crying for? I’m here.”
Her swirls turn into pumps against my dick and thumb.
“I want you.”
“You got me.”
“No, Iwantyou.” She gasps, pumping faster. “I—I want you to tell me something good like—like last time.”
I wheeze out another laugh while the buildup of an orgasm trickles through her limbs.
“What you want me to tell you, baby?” I ask, thrusting faster.
“Tell me what you told me last time.”
It takes a second before I get what she’s getting at and when I do; I think my dick does the impossible and gets harder.
“What? That it’s my pussy and nobody else’s?”
She nods with her eyes pinched together while I try to match my thumb’s strumming with the deep strokes I’m delivering.
“Oh,” I sing. “Now you wanna act right for me?”
She nods again and her mouth falls open. “You the only nigga I know how to act right for.”
There’s that drawl I’m obsessed with. It makes my head spin and all the tricks to help me keep my pace are useless because Phat won’t let me. I fall back over her and scoop her lips back into my mouth, trying to swallow that drawl and those words.
I breathe out. “Because you know better. Just like you know that even at the end of all this, when you’re where you’re supposed to be with some man that’s nothing like me, it’ll still be my pussy. Right?”
“Yes!”
That one syllable echoes throughout the room and bounces off the walls, and it’s no disrespect to Janet, but that “yes” sounds better than anything she ever sang in my house. That “yes” and Phat’s pussy sound and feel exactly likehome.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Lourdes
A poundingthumpmakes my eyes spring open.
“Ugh.” I groan, rolling over into a cocoon of blankets. “Fuck.”
For a minute, I forget where I am until I smell Ace deep in his comforter. All the light from the floor to ceiling windows in his bedroom shines over my naked body.
“Mhm.” I moan, smacking my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
I can taste him and smell him and I want him. I guess this happens after making love. I never asked anyone what the difference was between it and sex, but I think I know now.
I have aches in places I didn’t know existed and a tingling sensation on my ass because a slap there is how Ace said “good morning.” Afterward, I heard him muttering to himself about me. It wasn’t anything important—just something I imagined he tortured himself with when I left him alone.
“Lourdes,”he mumbled against my stomach.“Who gave you that name anyway, baby?”
The soft thrusting of his toothbrush against his teeth and the quiet muttering from the anchors onSportsCenteris how he told me was starting his day. The only way I knew he left was when I heard his voice.
“Order breakfast when you get up,”he rumbled between brushes while running his hand across my ass.“Card’s on the island in the kitchen.”
My brain is full of fuzz. Virginity is still that useless social construct I always believed it to be, but now I get what Ace meant with all of his contemplating over a flimsy piece of skin in my vagina. The change is subtle and more mental, but I feel it. I feel him. I taste his words. I even feel like I was on that yacht he told me about between strokes—that same yacht he almost jumped off of.
The memory of his words makes my body jolt from the bed. I can’t tell if they were real or if I made them up in my head, so I climb out of bed to make sense of it, but I stumble over our clothes in a daze.
