“Yanieca is inside. You have someone,” she stated. “Might not be who you want or need, but it’s someone. You’ve kept her around long enough.”
“I kept her around so I could make myself forget,” he grumbled.
Cyanna’s brow rose. “Forget what?”
“That I let the best thing I had marry a nigga not even worth a drop of her attention,” Karys said plainly.
She pulled in a small gasp and barely nodded. “Oh.”
“Yeah, walked her down the aisle like a fuckin’ idiot and all.”
“Karys, let’s not do this right now,” Cyanna pressed, trying to hide the tears swelling in her eyes under the moonlight.
“When are we doin’ it. I’m tired of doing this song and dance. We either in or we’re out,” he returned the press.
“I’m married, Karys.”
“Fuck him. I don’t give a damn about that shit.”
Cyanna dryly chuckled. “That’s that liquor talkin’. It’s all talk. I need a minute.”
She walked off. Inside of the house, up the stairs; she’d traveled enough times in this mansion’s design that she knew her way around. He gave her exactly a minute before taking the same route up the stairs and to the guest room set aside for her. He eased in, locked the door behind him, and followed the sounds of her sniffles.
Outside the bathroom door, his voice vibrated against it. “Open the door, Cy.”
Reluctantly, she pulled it open and swiped the tears free from her made-up face. “I’m going to go. I don’t want to ruin your night.”
“You’re the best part of this night. Every fuckin’ night,” he shared, stepping in and closing the space between them. “You’re best part of everything, Cy.”
“Don’t do this, K. Please don’t do this,” she whimpered.
“I’m sick of this shit,” he stated, using his index finger to lift her chin. “I did it. I watched. I waited.”
“And I didn’t?” she pushed back. “I’ve played the sidekick, the homie all these years and suddenly when I move on, it’s the end of the world?”
“You chose him.”
“I waited on you to choose me,” she tearfully admitted. “I waited, Karys. I know I fucked up, I don’t need reminding. I just can’t go against my moral compass.”
“Fuck that moral compass if it’s not pointing to me – to us, it doesn’t mean shit. I don’t care about the nigga you married. You were never his,” Karys claimed. “You’ve always been mine.”
That declaration was sealed with a kiss. Roughness that stung, but she welcomed it. Every press of his lips against hers was dizzying. She hadn’t had enough champagne to be swimming like this. His tongue found hers in a passion-filledkiss she hadn’t experienced since that last time they found themselves like this. The last time he let the liquor talk and she listened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. His hands weren’t supposed glide up her thighs and press against her heat. She wasn’t supposed to entertain the idea of letting him do things to her. She was a girlfriend then and took pride in being chosen. The difference now was that Damari had another life he was living while married to her, and he wouldn’t be walking into the apartment unannounced.
Cyanna surrendered. She hadn’t felt alive like this. Eyes drunk with lust, her eyes trailed his motion. From her mouth and neck to her shoulder, his hands in her hair before tugging at the zipper.
Karys groaned, kissing every inch of exposed skin before placing her on top the counter and hooking her thighs in his arms. “You smell so damn good.”
She couldn’t offer him any words, afraid that if she spoke this dream would be over. The dream always ended right here. Suckling her handful of breasts, kissing down her midsection, Karys dipped his head between her thighs. His tongue dragged over her taut center. The heat radiating from her making him shiver.
Cyanna grabbed her breasts, nipping her lip to muffle her moan.
“Taste even better,” he groaned, doing it again before pushing his fingers inside of her and latching on to her bud.
Cyanna fought the gasp and writhe of his invasion. Softly, she let the lowest sound she could make out. Far overdue for this type of attention. “Rys.”
“Let me hear that shit,” he commanded through suctions and licks. “Pussy fuckin’ wet.”
He welcomed her hands on the back of his head, and she bucked her hips against his face. From wanting her to having herunlocked another layer of possessiveness in him. One so insane he’d make sure she carried a piece of him to term and do it again and again.
