Deshona
You better stop teasing this man, especially after your last hookup. The last thing you need is another disappointment. How many batteries do you have?
From the intense look of challenge and promise in Alijah’s eyes, I really should listen to my conscience. But the truth is, I’m more than curious about whether Alijah is capable of stroking me to sleep. The number of times I have slid my fingers between my thighs and given myself an orgasm, simply from the memory of his impressive dick, warrants me to push the envelope right now. Alijah didn’t make it any better when he selflessly jumped up to resolve the issue with my SUV this morning. My original plan was to go to my appointment and come home to chill with a good book. Days off are a hot commodity, and anytime I can get a moment to breathe, I choose to read.
But Alijah’s kindness made me change my plans, or I would have been repaying his actions with my mouth when I swallowed his anaconda-thick dick. I have always struggled with honoring Mom’s men ain’t shit piggyback, but Alijah’s ass is definitely giving me several reasons to believe I simply needed a change in zip code. Damn him.
“Food’s g-getting cold.” My voice is just above a whisper as I push through my desire so we can get through this meal.
“We’ll pin that for now. This shit looks good though.” His husky words hit me dead smack in my pussy as she weeps in response.
I nod and disconnect my eyes from Alijah to the plate of food. It wasn’t anything that took time, but the smothered pork chops, smashed potatoes, and parmesan-crusted broccoli definitely look delicious, if I do say so myself. Confirmation comes when a masculine groan is heard beside me, and my head swiftly turns to look. Alijah’s eyes are already on me with his fork in his mouth.
Gotdamn!
My panties flood with moisture at the sincere appreciation that shines within his eyes. I haven’t been this horny and attracted to a man since I was a teenager on a discovery mission of learning all the ways I could make myself cum.
“How would your mom feel if you went home on your next visit rocking my ring?”
A loud, unladylike laugh escapes my mouth, and I’m glad I’m not eating yet, or this could be more embarrassing than the laughter itself. But the thought of his suggestion and Mom’s response is funny as hell.
“The better question is, how fast can you run? If I come home married or even engaged, Mom will be convinced that you have trapped me or something else sinister. Either way, she’s gonna feel the need to kill or Lorena Bobbitt you.”
“Well damn. What’s the backstory for that level of violence? A nigga needs his family jewels and shit.” The dejected and deep frown on his lips causes another round of laughter from me. “Nah. That shit ain’t funny. I need some more information.”
I take a minute or two to quickly run down Mom’s hang-ups where men are concerned as Alijah eats and listens in silence.It’s crazy because I find myself wanting to make excuses for why Mom thinks what she does. But I don’t really know what I could say to downplay what I’ve shared.
“So, do you feel the same?”
I dig my fork into the potatoes and scoop some of the broccoli on before I place the portion in my mouth. It allows me a second to consider and formulate my response. I think it would be hard for people who have been groomed to think a certain way to separate what they’ve been taught from their own desires. But my leaving Columbus was strategic, helping me escape the pressure to impose Mom’s narrative on how my life should go. My biggest problem is attracting men like the ones I have often seen Mom entertain.
I know I deserve better, and the truth is, I want better. I want a man who rushes home just to lay his eyes on me. I want a man I can see transition from heartthrob to zaddy. I want love’s fairy tale.
“My differences are what brought me to this fair city. No, I don’t feel that way.”
“Good to know.”
Silence fills the room for countless seconds, and all that can be heard is the clanking of forks against plates as we partake in the meal I cooked.
“You said you relocated too. Where are you from originally, and what made you leave?” I ask when I grow tired of the lack of conversation.
I’m curious to finally get the chance to learn more about Alijah. We’ve been like two ships passing in the night, and it’s something I would love to change. We’re sharing this apartment, and getting the opportunity to talk or even hang out would be a nice addition since I don’t have any friends here. Since Alijah seems to hang out here most of the time, I assume that he, too, left his friends wherever he came from.
“Born and raised in Ribax, so not far from here or your home city. I didn’t see myself running from a woman, but here I am.”
My eyes stretch, and my head shifts to look at him dead on because part of me is unsure if he’s joking or not.
“A-are . . . do you have a wife that will be popping up here soon?” My nose twists, my chest tightens, and my thoughts scramble like we’re in a heavy game of Wordsy.
I lean away from Alijah like he has crabs, and I’m scared one of them will jump on me due to our close proximity.
“Why your little ass scooting away and shit? I ain’t fucking married.”
My lips twist into a'yeah, right'expression as I look him up and down for a couple of seconds.
“Man, you're tripping. Hold on.” Without waiting for me to say anything, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. When the rings sound around the room, my forehead wrinkles.
Who the hell is he calling?
