She answered with a trembling moan, her hips rolling until her whole body trembled as she came with my name on her lips. I brought my fingers to my mouth, licking her release. I wished I could bottle that shit up and have it on-demand.
Drea fumbled with my sweatpants until she got them and my boxers down enough to free me. She hooked her legs around my waist. “I want you, Melo. Please.”
I pushed inside her slowly, savoring the way her mouth fell open, eyes rolling back, nails biting into my shoulders as I filled her up. I started to move, watching my dick disappear insideher.
“Fuck, Dre,” I grunted in her ear.
She clenched around me, pussy squeezing me so tight I almost folded right then.
“Melo,” she moaned, her hips meeting mine, the both of us moving together. Sweat slicked our skin, the room was thick with our heat and filled with the sound of cussing and her soft cries.
“I want you to nut in me,” she whimpered.
I swear to God, I almost lost it. We were playing with fire, but fuck it, I didn’t care.
“That’s the wine talkin’” I said, voice ragged, trying to keep it together.
“I’m—oh God, fuck—” she gasped.
“Drea, baby.”
I delivered steady, deep strokes—like a metronome. I tried to pace myself, but every time I looked down at her, felt her tighten around me, I nearly gave in.
I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to let go.
Fuck.
Her voice broke through my thoughts. “Carmelo. Please… I need you to come in me.”
My last ounce of control vanished. My hips snapped faster as I groaned her name. Her nails dug deep, legs locked around me as we came together, her pussy milking me as I came hard inside her.
For a long moment, we just lay there, catching our breath and listening to each other’s heartbeats in the quiet. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, feeling her smile against my jaw.
“Told you I missed you,” she murmured, lips brushing against my ear.
I closed my eyes, holding onto that, even if just for tonight.
Brooklyn S
We need to talk
I shoved my phone in my pocket as I let myself into my grandmother’s one-bedroom condo. The smell of grits and the sounds of Frankie Beverly’sGolden Time of Daywashed over me like a warm hug.
A smile crept across my face as I heard Nana singing along, her voice drifting from the kitchen—just a little off-key. I hung my coat on the hook by the door, kicked off my boots, and followed the music.
Caroline Hawkins was my everything. Nana stepped up when a drunk driver took my parents and left me at twelve with nobody but her. There was no insurance payout, no trust fund. Just funeral costs and memories. At sixty, she put aside her dreams of retirement and kept working to keep a roof over my head, doing her best to give me a happy childhood. My aunts and uncles were full of excuses about their kids, not enough money, saying it’d be too much to take me in, so they left Nana to figure it out.
She never once complained. Just made sure I was loved and given the kind of security only she could give.
That’s how I ended up running with Cash’s pops. Watching Nana work herself to the bone when she should’ve been enjoying retirement–I couldn’t just sit with that. Everybody knew Ricardo Banks was that nigga on the Eastside. Back then, the Banks Crew was just growing, and I’d known Cash since we were kids. Their family moved away when we got to high school, but Ricardo still took me under his wing and that’s when I started hustling. I’d leave money for Nana to help with bills— she never asked where the money came from, but deep down she knew. Still, to make her happy, I graduatedhigh school and went to trade school to become an electrician. But the streets and the fast money they promised were louder than the straight and narrow path. When Nana had her stroke, that money was what covered her medical bills and got her into the best rehab facility in the city.
So yeah, she was the reason I did what I did—right or wrong.
“Morning, Nana,” I said as I entered the kitchen. She was at the stove, pulling a tray of biscuits out of the oven.
She smiled warmly at me over her shoulder. “Hey, my baby.”
She set the tray on the stovetop and pulled off her oven mitts. “Sit, let me make you a plate.”
