Page 11 of Gotta Jones For Ya

I gripped the back of her thighs and lifted her like she was weightless—like her body was built to be cradled in my palms. That robe was already slidin’ open, and she was soft, warm, smellin’ like vanilla, red wine, and attitude. My mouth stayed on her neck as I walked us to her bedroom, one arm under her ass, the other holdin’ her close like if I let go, I’d fall through the fuckin’ floor.

Three fuckin’ days.

Three days of runnin’ back and forth between the car lot, pickups and shit and then checkin’ on Granny ’cause she had a doctor’s appointment that ran long. I got her medicine, made sure she had groceries and rubbed her feet while she talked shit about muthafuckas in the neighborhood like she always did. She was really my heart.

But through all that? Nyomi stayed in the back of my mind like a constant itch I couldn’t scratch. The way she looked the last time I left her bed. The sound of her moans echoin’ in my ear every night. The texts. The FaceTimes. That attitude. That mouth. She had me fucked up in every direction, and I wanted to be mad but I missed her. Some dick would get her mind right. But bein’ inside her? That would get me right too.

We made it to her bedroom and I set her on the bed, catching the Cuban link chain and anklet glintin’ on the nightstand. That shit made my jaw tick.

“So, you not gon’ wear my shit?”

I asked, eyein’ it like it insulted me personally.

She didn’t even look guilty, just slid her silky top off, titties all perky and perfect and shit. Distractin’ me.

“I thought you had another woman, Keon. Why would—?”

I looked at her like she lost her fuckin’ mind.

“You wearin’ that shit got nothin’ to do wit’ how you feel and everything to do wit’ what it means,”

I said, low and steady. I picked up the anklet, sat down, and grabbed her ankle gently but firmly. Slid it on without askin’. Fastened it. Then I picked up the chain and held it up in front of her.

“You gon’ wear my shit,”

I said, eyes locked on hers.

“Not just ‘cause I gave it to you. But ’cause I ain’t comin’ up off you, Nyomi.”

Her breath caught.

“You hear me?”

She nodded slowly, but I wasn’t done.

“You could block me, ignore me, talk your shit, do whatever,”

I said, slippin’ the chain around her neck and claspin’ it from behind, my lips right by her ear.

“But at the end of the day? I gotchu.”

She melted a lil’. I felt that shit. Her legs shifted, her mouth parted. The sass dipped just a lil’ bit.

“I don’t play that ‘on and off’ shit. So next time you think about takin’ this shit off again, you better think twice,”

I muttered, graspin’ her throat and pullin’ her into me. Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second, and just like that, I had her.

We kissed, messy as fuck, tongues tanglin’ like they missed each other. My hands were already slidin’ up her thighs again, pullin’ off her lil’ ass shorts and partin’ her legs like I had every right to.

I was on her before she could say anything slick. I missed her ass too damn much. I lay her back and I kissed down her stomach, then lowered and slid her legs over my shoulders and let my tongue speak fluent disrespect. Long strokes, deep pressure. I spit on her pussy and sucked it right up. She moaned loudly, and I grinned against her.

“Keeoonnn!”

She squirmed, grippin’ the sheets. She came wit’ my name fallin’ off her lips.

And I still didn’t stop. I licked her through the aftershocks, suckin’ on her clit and watchin’ her fall apart like I had somethin’ to prove. She had the nerve to act like she could forget what the fuck this was. That shit wasn’t gon’ fly.

I stood up, yanked my sweats and briefs down, and wrapped her legs ‘round my waist. Gripped my dick at the base, slapped it against that soaked lil’ pussy, and watched her twitch.

“You ready to stop playin’ wit’ me now?”

“God! Just fuck me.”

I slid in deep, slow as hell, just to feel her grip me like she always did. I loved that shit. “Fuck,”

I groaned, eyes rollin’ back as her walls hugged every inch of me.

“I just wanna love the fuck outta you, girl.”

“Oh, my God…”

She whimpered and tried to arch up, but I planted a hand on her stomach and made her take it.

I watched Nyomi’s body respond to every fuckin’ move like we were built for this shit. Her pussy fit my dick all perfect and shit. Her head tipped back. Moans poured out. Nails clawed at my back.

“This what you needed, baby?”

I grunted.

“Some dick to get that attitude back in check?”

“Yessss, fuck… Keon, please…”

“Please what?”

I slowed down. Thrusted deeper.

“Please don’t stop!”

That’s all I needed to hear. I flipped her over and picked up the pace, and put her through the fuckin’ mattress. No mercy. Just sweat, spit, moans, rough hands, grip marks on her hips. One hand in her hair, the other grippin’ her hip while I fucked the soul out her.

“You mine,”

I growled against her neck.

“You block me again and I swear to God, Ny, we gon’ have problems.”

She choked out a moan that damn near shattered. I kissed her jaw, her neck, and her mouth.

“Say you mine.”

“I’m you… fucuuucckkkk!!! I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yourssssss!!!!”

I felt her push my dick out and squirt all over my shit. I played wit’ that floodin’ pussy wit’ one hand, growlin’ like an animal as I stroked my nut out wit’ the other. Body spasmin’ as her legs locked ‘round me like she didn’t want me to go nowhere.

And I wasn’t.

I collapsed beside Nyomi, heart poundin’ like a muthafucka as she kept sayin’ “fuck”

over and over again, breath ragged. I kissed her cheek, then her shoulder, then her lips again.

“I fuckin’ missed you. Don’t shut me out again. Understood?”

I whispered. She nodded against me. For a minute, shit was quiet. Just us, tangled up in messy ass sheets until we changed them shits together and knocked the fuck out.