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We’re only a few feet away from each other and I can smell his manly scent getting stronger with each step.
“The way your body flushes red when you’re at your peak, you know right when your tight pussy squeezes me, your lower belly tightening, promising me you’re gonna come hard.”
My body moves forward luring to him like a magnet. I’m trying to mentally tell myself no and obviously failing. He stops moving, letting me move to him instead.
“Then you choke out my name when you come, when my cock hits you in all the right places and it’s still not fully in you. You can’t fit all of this big cock in you.” He grabs his erection and my mouth waters, my lips dry asking for a drop of rain. “You crave it, all of it, all of me.”
I close the gap between us, my hands finding his hips and my lips latching onto his neck. He still doesn’t touch me, too concerned with proving his point. I came to him on my own accord, just by a promise of what he can do to my body. I do crave him all the time. I lick his neck, tracing his tattoos, lapping at him like a crazed addict. He hasn’t touched me and I can feel my orgasm building, pregnancy does crazy things to my body. Rubbing my legs together to sooth the ache, I feel that familiar heat building in the center of my stomach. My hands are now touching his cock, his hands moved at some point to the back of his head. He’s enjoying the torture he’s subjecting me to. Am I wrong to say I love it too?
“When you’re done coming and laying there spent, crashed from your high, I’m ready to clean my Queen. The way you whimper when I lap up our mixed come, cleaning you, your sore pussy loving it.” Oh, fuck.
“Kingston, make me come!” I moan loudly.
“Shh!” Unleashing his hands on my body, one hand covers my mouth and the other reaches under my dress and moves my soaked panties aside, pinching my clit then moving to slam it in me. I come on a muffled cry, screaming his na
me into his hand, shamelessly sliding against his fingers. I wait for the pulsating to subside, to finally stop humping his fingers like a greedy slut. He pulls them out and licks them clean, before giving me a smoldering look.
“I’m your favorite habit, baby. So stop trying to quit me. Tell me no again?” He challenges, turning to the bathroom. Still in a daze I undress with little recognition of what’s happening. My traitorous body pulling to him like gravity, I get naked and follow Kingston into the bathroom, letting him fuck me really hard and really good in the shower until I can’t keep my eyes open. Death by orgasms. I’m becoming reckless, unafraid, untamed and for once I don’t fear what I don’t know.
I sleep for a measly hour, too anxious for tomorrow. I decide to go in search of my mom. I maneuver the best I can from Kingston’s hold on me. I put on my pink sleep shorts and his RVCA shirt, which drowns me, but it hides my baby bump. I’m twenty weeks today and my God is it flying.
The floor creaks and he turns over on his stomach. I stop dead in my tracks and silence my breathing, I don’t want him waking up. He must be exhausted after working doubles at the studio these past few weeks so he could take the time off to come here for a few days.
We’ve been a couple now for a few weeks and the way things have changed in that short time is surprising to us both. My nightmares have been happening less and less and so have our fights. He’s been extremely patient with me, always looking for ways to replace the things I used to fear with something I now love. When he tells me I look sexy with my skin showing, I want to run around naked and free. When he slaps my ass, I want to misbehave. When he tells me I’m his and only his, I want to push him away so he will fight harder to keep me. It’s sick, however it feels beautifully reckless.
I watch him settle back into a comfortable position, his back exposed and his head between his pillow and the one I was using moments ago. The sheet covers his peach shaped ass. Dropping my head I chuckle quietly at his manly globes.
I leave when I’m in the clear, in search of my mom. I check her room first and see it’s empty. Venturing down the stairs I find her in the kitchen sitting at the table with a glass of wine and her favorite thing—her crossword puzzle.
“Hey mama.” I go to her, making myself comfortable opposite her chair.
“Hey, you sleep okay?” I frown.
“No but I’m not tired. Kingston’s wiped out though. Poor guy worked his ass off at work this week.” Closing her crossword, she stands pushing the chair back in behind her.
“I’m not complaining, I want some time with you anyway and our chicken casserole won’t cook itself.” Home. I’m home. I stand and move with her. She gets all the ingredients from the fridge while I pull some from the cupboards.
We stay silent for the first twenty minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being together again. We move around each other easily, like no time has passed, knowing just how the other cooks and moves around the kitchen. My mind takes the silence and it wanders away to that night in the studio with Kingston. The breathtaking way we made love, the sound of my song coming from his lips. That was the night things changed. I know I’m still going to have reservations, but that night made some of those doubts slowly evaporate. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, he is helping aid in my journey to self-recovery. Kingston is helping me find Lana again.
“You look different, happier,” she states, cutting up tomatoes for the salad.
I lay down the cream of chicken then start placing the shredded chicken on top, making the bottom layer of the casserole. “I feel it. I’m happy,” I reply truthfully.
“I saw it in your eyes earlier, you’re still conflicted. You’re in love with Kingston but Joel still lingers in your mind, doesn’t he?” I hate how transparent I can be with her. I don’t know if it’s me or if she just knows me that well. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty. Taking the peas, I lay them over the chicken.
“I guess I still think of him because I fear the depth of love, the way it can swallow you hole. I lost myself once, I’m scared to do it again, mama, I don’t know.” I play with the peas making sure they’re evenly spread. I feel my mother’s eyes on me, watching me.
“Kingston’s not Joel. You never loved Joel, Lana. You feared him. There is a difference.” True. I have never and will never love anyone the way I love my King, but Joel was my first love and as much as I would like to live in a fairytale land of denial, I loved him once.
“I shouldn’t have feared him. I should’ve been strong, not a coward. I did it for the sake of love.” Dropping the knife she moves to me in hurried strides.
“Lana Lynn James, never say that you’re a coward. You were scared and you didn’t know what to do. There is nothing weak or pathetic about that.” She shakes my shoulders and I try to shrug her off. I don’t want the pity.
“I should’ve left sooner, I wouldn’t be this way, wouldn’t live like this, if I had.”
“Lana blaming yourself is wrong, you’ve become much stronger since you came out of all that. Yes, he’s part of your past, but it’s your past Lana, not your future.” She squeezes me as I unleash my tears in her shoulder. After the final attack, I didn’t talk to anyone, not even Shayla. I left that hospital and the attack a muted woman. I promised I wouldn’t let it affect me and that didn’t work, it’s affected me every day since, creeping into every aspect of my life, centering mostly around my relationship with Kingston.
“Kingston’s different, mom. I know he wouldn’t hurt me, it’s not the fear of being physically hurt. It’s emotional pain. I’m terrified to love him and need him like I do. I’m scared to accept his full heart. Kingston isn’t like other men mom, he is passionate, deeply passionate. He is consuming in everything, making me feel numb when I’m with him. Kingston doesn’t just love you, Kingston owns your heart, body, mind and soul and it scares me that I love it so much!” I sob harder into her shoulder while she rocks me, squeezing me as tight as she can without cutting off my oxygen.
