Page 85 of The Impact (Parachutes #3)

Tahli

The magic hour.

A setting sun casted amber shadows on bedroom walls. Tahli’s belly, a rounded mountain of mocha flesh, blocked her view of his face. In this dim, burnt orange glow, daylight escaped by the second, as Vin’s tongue polished off her sensitive clit.

“Ah, baby… uh.”

Her gasps joined her twitch, pussy throbbing below her nonexistent waist. Vin stole tender nibbles of her thighs, then rested his hand over her protruding bellybutton; the same hand inked with his ode of devotion.

“Dalvin,” she sputtered.

He trailed those kisses up her stomach, peppering the barrier between his lips and their final bundle of love. Dali and Milo were 9 and 7 years old. When this one came into the world, Tahli would have given Vin three of the four or five children he tactfully requested on their first date.

“Hear me out…Terran,” he breathed out.

“It sounds like a Middle Eastern country.” Tahli chuckled, as he rose on his knees in the emergent darkness.

“It’ll grow on you.”

“Maybe.” She nibbled her lip. “Where did you get it from, anyway?”

“Munch. Well, really Jay. He said Jay just randomly told him one day, not long before he passed, that whether it was a boy or girl, Jay’s first kid was being named Terran. Asked Munch what he thought of it.”

Tahli sulked at the thought of Jay living long enough to be a father. Saw the wound fight for a spot in her husband’s dead gaze, too.

“Speaking of Munch…” Tahli saved him. “…you can go if you need to. I know he’s on the way. Plus, my dad and Vanessa are bringing the kids home soon after they load up all of their gifts.” It was the quiet day after Christmas.

“Oh, I can go, huh?” He raised her left leg in his strong hand. “You ain’t using me for head then sending me on my way. Come up off of that good pregnant pussy.”

Her muffled giggles into her hands trickled off.

“You okay?” She could tell Vin controlled the excess of pleasure in his question, as he breeched her, steadied on his knees; ecstasy warping his face.

“Yes,” her breathy voice answered. “Come...come kiss me,” Tahli begged.

“I can’t, baby love.” Tenderly but defiant. Vin didn’t want to hurt the big ball of baby between them with his weight, Tahli knew.

“I want you closer,” Tahli groaned to his increasing strokes, and the swishing sound of her wetness encasing him. So, he repositioned on his side behind her, his chest now to her back. Tahli stroked his beard with her eyes shut, as his dick tapped somewhere near her enlarged uterus.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” she cried to him asking again, and Vin’s strong hand palmed her big tit.

“You feel so good, baby.” Trickled into her eardrum.

“Vin, I’m…I’m gonna…” she tried to vocalize the intensity of rapture.

“I got you,” he grunted. “Give it here, baby love. You so fucking beautiful, Tahli. You know that?” Vin’s gentle kiss to her earlobe with his trained strokes shuddered her body in his arms. “Whose sexy-ass baby love are you?”

“Yours,” Tahli moaned, as his fingers left her breast to stroke the damp hairs near her temple. Vin massaged the scalp between her locs, without his dick missing his marching orders.

This version of lovemaking he reserved for the final months of each of her pregnancies. He never forgot to be her lover, but in those days, he did it differently. Nurturing. Protective. Wrapped in adoration.

“Who loves you, baby love?”

“You,” she warbled. “Uh!”

“You okay?” Vin felt her body lock up. “Contraction?”

“No. Cu-cumming hard.” Sniveling, she announced. “It’s here.”

“Hand it over, then,” he urged, sweat molding them into one, moving her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

“V-Vin…”

“Sshhh.” He thumbed her nipple. And Tahli imploded. Seconds later, his pleasured grunts shadowed.

“That shit needs to be dipped gold and put on a mount,” he growled, sliding out of her. Tahli licked her dry lips, already missing him connected to her.

“You gonna make a trophy out of my pussy?”

“Put that shit in a glass case,” Vin quipped. “MVP.” He fanned his hands.

“Most valuable pussy,” Tahli giggled.

“You fucking stupid,” he snickered.

“You stupid. What time is Munch getting here, stupid man?”

“I don’t know. You know niggas always late. I don’t really give a fuck.”

“Long as you got your game and your wings,” Tahli propped up on an elbow, as he grabbed fresh underwear from the drawer. “I ordered y’all some cheesesteaks, too.”

“You ain’t gotta feed that nigga, Tahli.”

“He’s still a guest, Vin.” She rubbed her feet around the sheets as his prepped for his shower, on Cloud 9. “So…”

“So…” he mocked her, grabbing his phone, texting something to someone.

“Are you going?” Vin creased brows to her loaded question. “To Munch’s birthday freak fest at that nasty, nude resort in Jamaica that’s basically like a big-ass orgy?”

“You so fucking nosy. I knew you were listening.”

“Whatever. Munch talks dumb loud on the phone.” Tahli’s eyes raked over Vin’s body, still dripping sweat over his graffiti.

Vin worked out even more these days, battling an aging process that Tahli’s father joked would never catch up to them.

It’s the black man’s gift from God, after getting fucked over in every other department.

Big dicks and the fountain of youth, son.

Tahli couldn’t help but think of the freaky horny women who went to those resorts hoping to run into a Vin. A chance to gobble him up like the Porterhouse steak he was.

“Nah.”

She sighed out relief. “I mean…if you want to go.”

“I don’t.”

“I trust you.”

“It’s not about that. I’m married, Tahli. I don’t need to go to that corny shit. Not unless you were coming with me and I don’t want that, either. You’re due in three weeks.”

“Nobody wants to see the naked pregnant lady, anyway,” Tahli pushed out her lips, caressing her belly.

“I do. But, hey,” he shrugged, “the naked pregnant lady does it for me.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go? You’re his best friend. He’ll want his best friend at his birthday party.”

“We’re not in fucking third grade, Tahli.”

“Okay. But maybe you’re just telling me you don’t want to go because you think I don’t want you to go?

So, you’re making yourself not want to go because I don’t want you to go even though, I want you to go…

but, only if you want to go. But I kinda want you to not go but only if you really don’t wanna go. ”

Vin gawked, picking up his clean boxers. “I’m going in the shower. And you? You’re going fucking crazy, girl.”

Her wild laughter sprouted. “Dalvin,” she called when he neared the door.

“What, crazy-ass?”

“Nothing. I just... Nothing,” she insisted.

“Then why you smiling?”

“Because.” Tahli pressed her lips in a grin she couldn’t control. “I just really love you.”

Vin

“I fucking hate you!”

“Fucking Tahli!” Vin boomed, his eyes never leaving the 80-inch television screen in the center of their living room. Even as she blocked part of it. “What the fuck are you even talking about right now?”

“My sandwich, Vin! Where is it? Stop playing. I hate you. I hate being pregnant!”

“Tahli. You ate it.”

“No, I didn’t. I ate half before you jumped on me with your stupid dick and your stupid sex...” Vin ignored Munch’s snicker. “And I said I was saving the rest for later. Now, it’s gone!”

“Tahli- Oh, shit!”

“Yo! He’s running. He’s running it!” Munch shouted out. “Nigga taking it down the field!”

“Vin!”

“Tahli! You ate the shit when I was heating up the wings!” The minute he yelled it, he knew he’d been too harsh. Munch howled from the touchdown scored, and Vin gave his pregnant wife his full attention.

“I’m sorry, baby love. Aye...don’t do that. Don’t be mad.” Her slit eyes and pout sustained. Vin pulled her closer with big hands to her t-shirt covered belly. “I’m sorry. But you ate it,” he murmured, as close to her lips as the belly would allow.

“I ate it?” She repeated, defeated. Those hormones and that last trimester aggravation combined with that pregnancy brain – Tahli didn’t stand a chance. “Vin, it’s gone. My drunken chicken parm is gone.”

“I know. But it’s still a cheesesteak and wings. Go eat that.”

“Nigga, that’s mine.”

“Bitch, everything in this house is my wife’s,” Vin snapped back to Munch in the way they talked half-serious shit to each other.

“I don’t want that.” Her pretty face folded up.

“It’s good, baby love.”

“I want a chicken parm with vodka sauce from Sapore’s. I wanna sit in the bed and watch The Notebook with my drunken chicken parm and ginger ale. Why is everything so fucked up?”

“Tahli?” Vin’s eyes doubled as she started to cry. Legit real tears.

“Tahli, you okay?”

“Leave me alone, Munch!” She screamed, cradling her lower stomach.

“What’s wrong? You having contractions?” Vin panicked.

“Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s fucking wrong! I’m not having fucking contractions Vin, it’s Braxton Hicks! And I want my sandwich!” She whined.

“Aw, shit. This some fucking Exorcist shit,” Munch mumbled.

“Baby love...” She sobbed harder as Vin pinched his tear ducts. Because he already knew where this was heading. He was already in the car. “Tahli...”

“They close in an hour, Vin. I’m just going to get one.”

“Tahli, you are not taking your almost 10-month pregnant ass out this late all the way to Middlesex to get a sandwich.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll...I’ll get it.”

“Nigga, you going on in the tied-up fourth quarter?” Munch shouted like it was as ridiculous as it sounded.

“Nah. You are. You owe me anyway for that pound I brought you last week. Go get Tah her food.”

“Get the fuck outta here,” Munch waved his hand, laughing off. Before Vin could attest, Tahli did.

“I don’t want Munch to go. He’s gonna smoke and be late, and it’ll be cold. He doesn’t know how to tell if it’s too much sauce on it. I’m going myself.”

Vin’s nostrils flared; eyes set on the television screen. “Time out is almost over and it’s looking like we may be going into overtime.”

“I’ll go.”