Page 33 of Crown: Phase 4

“Ahh,” Nivéa moaned as he entered her, her walls suctioning him like a vacuum.

Her entire body ignited from the flames he sparked within her. Clawing at his neck, she surrendered completely, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he sucked on her neck. She could feel the hickey he’d leave behind already.

“Baby, ooooh.” She couldn’t believe they were outside, fucking like this.

Crown was on a mission; in straight beast mode. He was cupping her ass cheeks and slamming into her, making her scream his name into the night air. Nivéa came so hard from the intrusion that her cream soaked his dick and balls, dripping onto the deck beneath them.

“You still trust me, ma?” Crown whispered in her ear as he felt his release rising.

“With my life.”

“Good, ’cause what I’m about to do requires faith in a nigga.”

“What the hell are you about to—”

Before she could finish her question, Crown gripped her waist tightly, never pulling out, and sat her on the terrace railing. He held her close, protectively, as he continued his deep strokes. They were about twenty feet up in the air, but Nivéa just went with the flow. She completely trusted him. With every thrust, she never worried he would drop her. She knew that if no one else had her, Crown did.

They had rich sex…the kind the rapper Future rapped about. More money slipped from Crown’s pockets and fluttered onto the terrace, with a few bills falling through the railing. He didn’t give a fuck about none of it. His pockets wouldn’t dare feel the loss. Money had never been an issue for a nigga like him. His focus stayed on his wife, fucking her in the mink that had run him a hundred bands.

With a hooded gaze, Crown stared at Nivéa as her body and diamonds glistened underneath the moon and stars. He studied the way she twisted her nipples with one hand, playing with her breasts that bounced. Pair that with her warmth, and it pushed him even closer to the edge.

“Fuckkkkkk, I’m ’bout to nut all in this pussy.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his jaw tightening.

“Mmmmmm, it’s yours. Do whatever you want with it.”

“Shit,” Crown groaned as he sped up his pace, her cheeks slamming against his balls as his manhood exploded.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he brought Nivéa over to the table. She was leaking uncontrollably as he spread her legs wide open in the air. Crown didn’t give a fuck; he ate her pussy, cleaning up the mess they’d made. But his juicy lips felt so good sucking her clit and lips that Nivéa ended up making another mess shortly after.

That only enticed Crown further; he pushed her ankles to the sides of her face with one hand while eating her ass, using his free hand to stroke himself with her juices he’d collected. That night, they laid it all out on the table. Literally. When his jaw finally grew tired, he pulled her to the edge, bent his knees, and entered her. Together, they moaned in unison, building toward their peaks as Nivéa reached down and strummed her clit. Once again, her pussy and the sight before Crown weakened him, especially her nails glowing in the darkness.

Grunting like a wild animal, he pulled out, shooting straight ahead…painting his seeds on her face and breasts. Being a good girl, she lay perfectly still, letting him do whatever he wanted. Her new fur caught some strays, but that was fine. Crown promised her he would take it to his furrier for professional cleaning; it would be good as new.

Chapter Eleven.

Danger knew something was different when he made it through the front door. His home smelled like good seasoning and Fabuloso instead of just his usual cologne and candles. He glanced around, noticing the carpet had been vacuumed, the clutter from his coffee table was gone, and the pillows on his couch were sitting upright for the first time since he bought them. He also spotted the cleaning products on the shelf, ones that he was sure Caresha had used to dust as well as clean the flatscreen.

“Ree.” He called.

“In the kitchen.”

Danger headed that way, taking her in as he stepped inside. She stood in front of the stove wearing one of her MooMoo nightgowns that she knew he loved, stirring a pot.

“Can’t believe you cleaned my crib.” He said, noticing the kitchen was spotless, too. She’d cleaned the pile of dirty dishes, wiped the counters, and swept and mopped the floors.

Caresha glanced over her shoulder. “Somebody had to.”

“My shit wasn’t that bad.”

“Nigga, please. You junky. You got this nice ass home, and you don’t bother to dust, sweep… mop… nothing.”

Shrugging, Danger studied the counter. A new loaf of bread, different bags of chips, and two boxes of cereal caught his eye—one she enjoyed, the other a brand she’d seen on his shelf, but the last box was empty. He had eaten all the cereal out of it and hadn’t bothered to put the box in the trash, pissing Caresha off. So, she purchased him a new one.

Danger checked the refrigerator, finding it packed with bottled water, butter, milk, her favorite brew of iced coffee, juice, fruit, and vegetables. He also noticed turkey lunch meat, cheese, eggs, and strawberry yogurt, along with condiments, guacamole, salsa, and pico de gallo. The freezer held a new tub of his favorite ice cream and enough meat for her to cook a couple of meals.

“Damn, how you go grocery shopping?” He looked inside the cabinet, noticing the various seasoning bottles placed on the rack.

“Walmart delivery.”