Page 43

Tears slipping from my eyes, Crown took his time kissing them away.

Without fucking up the rhythm, he threw my legs over his shoulders.

His dick slammed into me, my walls suffocating his girth with every stroke.

His tongue licked along my skin until his lips found mine.

Greedily, he kissed me. My body squirmed beneath him, ready to explode.

"Four, yo' pussy is so fucking wet for a nigga. Damn. Why this pussy so wet for me? Huh? What a nigga did to make the pussy glisten," he rasped against my ear. The coolness of his breath drove me insane.

"Yo... you made me... made me fall in love!" I struggled to get my words out, but my body spoke back.

"This is the type of shit that happens when you love a nigga?"

"Yess!"

"Fuck, Four," he groaned, going stiff. I took the time to gather myself, but it was short-lived. Crown pulled out, slapped his dick against my clit then plunged back in.

"Shiiiit!" I hissed when he pulled back. Those deep, heart stuttering, clit pulsing, pussy drenching strokes didn't stop. Crown worked my body, fucking me into submission. My head was dazed, my vision blurry.

"You know this pussy turned yo' husband certifiable, right? Fuck crashin' out, you got a nigga 'bout to be number one on America's most wanted 'bout you."

"Crown," I simpered, slipping further in love with his crazy.

"Nah, don't call out to me. I need you to send a prayer up askin' God to bless these niggas with the common sense needed to stay the fuck away from you. You hear me, Four," he gritted.

"Yessss. I fuckin' hear you."

Crown pulled out, flipped me over, then pressed his hand on my lower back until I arched the way he liked.

"You fuckin' better 'cause we're making triplets tonight."

Ecstasy spilled from between my thighs. Throwing my ass back, I felt the ache of my scar. It wasn't pain but a promise. I welcomed it, knowing this was Crown sealing our fate. My pussy spasmed, and Crown jerked, spraying my womb making good on his word to give triplets.

Peace.

Never in my life had I known a peace that felt like this.

It didn't come with bells or whistles. It was a quiet presence, patiently waiting for me to stop running and give in.

The cause of it, I couldn't say for certain.

Maybe it was Crown's relentless pursuit.

The way he refused to let go, even when I pushed and screamed for him to do so.

Maybe it was the way his body knew mine.

The way the thick vein beneath his dick pulsed like it carried my name and how I loved to trace it with my tongue.

Or maybe... just maybe it was the broken pieces of my heart stitching themselves back together in Crown's hands. The cause of this peace wasn’t defined, and I was fine with that because the why wasn't important.

Sometimes, peace just needed to be felt, not understood.

For years, I thought grief was a part of me.

The ache in my chest had long ago seeped through my pores, melting against my skin like a second layer.

It had become my armor, the concrete wall blocking my blessings at every turn.

But Sincere was dead and never coming back.

Those promises didn't hold me to my word anymore because they were empty, as empty and broken as my heart until Crown.

Unbeknownst to him, the same night I won my first race with him as my passenger, he had stepped into a mausoleum disguised as a slick talking, fine as fuck, glasses wearing woman.

He didn't know my body still remembered the way my first love touched me.

The way his hands knew every curve, every soft gasp before it left my lips.

Even in that moment, I couldn't shake the bandage behind from Sincere's absence.

I was with Crown in the flesh, his dick slathered in my essence but mentally I was buried beneath the earth with Sincere.

Every time we slept together after Crown was a substitute for silence.

A warm body that I used to quiet the hollow space left behind.

I fucked him like I meant it. I moaned and called out like he was the only one, but all of it was a lie stitched together by grief.

Even when he asked me to be his girlfriend, he thought he won, that I was choosing him when, selflessly, I was choosing myself.

He'd become a distraction, a placeholder, my last attempt to silence the grief that held my heart in a vice grip.

Back then, Crown was just a shadow in a space someone else carved out.

Lying in his arms as his snores tickled my neck, I watched him sleep, knowing in my heart he wasn't the shadow anymore but the architect of my undoing.

It wasn't his love that broke me. It went beyond that.

It happened by the way he retaught me happiness through laughter.

The compliments he gave, how he saw me, not when put together, but when falling apart.

His love for my glasses slipping down my nose, curls untamed, and still being wanted by him.

I broke beneath him. I smiled at the thought of how far we've come.

I reared my head back just enough for my lips to meet his.

I kept them there, gently pressing to not wake him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I was able to exhale.