Page 37 of The Plus One

"You see how you don't like being interrupted. Neither do I."

Kema tittered nodding before I slid my dick back into her mouth. I put my hands behind my head allowing her to take control this time. She took me deep into her throat, then pulled back and spit on my dick before sucking me into her warm-ass mouth again. I wrapped her hair around my hand and guided her up and down my shaft as my toes curled.

“Fuuuck, Kema. You finna make me nut.” I moaned like a bitch. She hummed around the tip, and that was all it took. I came while watching her continue to lightly suck my sensitive head before swallowing every drop.

“Never doing it again, my ass,” I mumbled.

By the time she climbed out of bed, I was staring at the ceiling trying to remember my own damn name. Kema chuckled and grabbed her robe off the chair like she hadn’t just ruined my entire morning in the best possible way. “Good morning.”

I slowly turned my head. “Kema.”

“What?”

“Come back over here.”

“Nope.” She tied her robe and headed toward the bathroom.

“Kema.”

“I have to shower.”

“So. Lemme taste that pussy Kema please.”

She chuckled before shaking her head. “Nope, we’re supposed to meet everybody downstairs at eleven.”

“Fuck everybody downstairs.”

She laughed. “I’ll see you down there.”

The bathroom door closed behind her. And I dropped my head back against the pillow. Not only was she not playing fair but she had a nigga begging. The fuck was she doing to me. We hadn’t even made it twenty-four hours in Cancún, and Rule Number Three was already dead.

I knew that shit wasn’t going to last anyway. Seven nights in the same bed after I’d spent years wanting her? Yeah, aight. The bathroom door opened a while later, and Kema walked out wrapped in a towel. I had to look away. She knew what she was doing to me.

She laughed. “Why are you still in bed?”

I looked back at her. “You really asking me that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Keep playing.”

“I plan to.”

“Go put some damn clothes on.”

She disappeared into the closet laughing. This woman was going to get on my fucking nerves. By the time we made it downstairs, most of the wedding party had taken over an area near the pool. Kema walked beside me in a cover-up that wasn’t covering a damn thing. “You wearing that?”

She stopped. “What?”

“That.”

She looked down at herself. “Yes.”

“Where the rest of it at?”

“Ace, it’s a cover-up.”

“Covering what?”