Page 19 of Take Me Slow


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When Yandy starts to tremble, gripping my manhood with every tremor, I can no longer hold it together. I ram into her core, filling her up with every ounce of cum I have to offer with each blow.

“Stay with me,” I mutter between each stroke. I may be going mad, but I want her with me as insanity takes me to a place I’ve never been before meeting Yandy. No future moments should pass where we are not together. I don’t want her out on the streets. She should be here with me.

A loud moan escapes her sensual throat. “Yes!” Her body shudders, and she cries out as each wave of orgasm devours her alive.

I pull out of her and stand up straight, pulling her up with me. I stammer to the couch and sit down, bringing her down onto my lap, where I devour her lips, drinking from her mouth until I am full.

“Yandy, were you answering my question or were those cries of pleasure.”

“A little bit of both,” she whispers, breathlessly. “I have my own place, so maybe we should start dating before we do the move in thing.”

“Oh, baby. We are so far beyond dating, and I know all I need to know about you. I want you here,” I tell her, meaning it from the pits of my soul. I am done doing the visit thing; we belong together.

She kisses my lips to quiet me. I forget my train of thought momentarily as a kiss like the one she’s delivering to my lips is designed to do. It’s a warm embrace of two sets of heated souls meant to change worldviews and convert a man from bachelorhood to being hoo

ked to the ball and chain. I’ll come back to the conversation of making her stay with me forever. For the moment, I’m enchanted by the feel of her sinking into my soul and me into hers.

Chapter Ten

Yandy

Blaze convinces me to stay the night. Well, it doesn’t take much convincing after he brands my body twice more in an attempt to get me to agree to live with him. Finally, after I’m so limp that I feel like a limp noodle, he allows me to rest.

Late into the night, I’m woken up by two phones going off in unison. Both are playing the standard Apple ringtone, but slightly off from each other, making for a jarring contrast. Blaze's hands slide on my warm, naked skin when he leans across the bed to fetch his work iPhone.

"Hello, this is Blaze," he answers groggily.

Next to him, my sleepy voice is raspy when I answer my phone and ask, "What can I do for you?"

"Agent Martin," the person on the other line says curtly. "There's a situation I want to make sure you are aware of, in case you get called for back-up."

"What's going on?" I ask, jarring more awake with each passing second.

My superior starts running down the details to me, and I’m in shock of what’s going on with the trafficking ring I’ve been trying to bring down. Apparently, they just got a new boost to their circle, and it’s a more disgusting set of circumstances than I could’ve ever imagined. Stomach churning, my limbs are thrumming with adrenaline, making me think it's going to be a long time before I get back to a bed to sleep. There has been an influx of young Mexican girls who were separated at the border from their parents that were here for asylum. The US government lost track of the girls, and now the young, most vulnerable group of teenagers are being pimped in the streets of New York City. I’m entirely enraged by the time I hang up the phone. When Blaze ends his call, he equally looks like a bundle of nerves.

"Yandy," Blaze says urgently. His anxious tone overwhelms how I’m already feeling. "I don't want to tell you to stop seeing clients, but you can’t go back out there. The New York Police are beginning a massive raid this week. They're going to be arresting hundreds of people, and one of them could be you if you go back out there, especially since I found you so easily," he says.

I stare at him confused over what seems like an awkward statement. My mouth is half open in shock and awe. “What do you mean by saying you found me easily? What are you saying, Blaze?”

"I couldn't stand it if something happens to you," Blaze continues, clenching his chest. "I don't want to be put in a position of putting my job on the line to keep you out of jail, but I know I’ll do it if it comes down to it, so let’s just not put ourselves in that position, okay?"

"What the hell?" I say, sitting up straighter.

"I'm sorry," Blaze insists. "I haven't been entirely honest with you. I work for the New York PD. I’m a cop, and that was someone in my department warning me about the future busts about to happen to prostitutes all over the city, and especially in the area near the park where you work. They’re not looking for you, but there have been a lot of girls coming in from Mexico, and we have to get to the bottom of it."

"What the hell?" I repeat, sitting up and looking at him as if he has two heads. How did I miss the detail that he’s a cop? At this moment, I know I fell for him the second I saw him because there is no way in hell this should be coming to me as a surprise right now. Researching people and their motives is what I do. “Break this down to me like I’m a two-year-old, what are you saying exactly?” I ask, not wanting to believe I’ve been sleeping with a cop. Not that it’s a bad thing; it is actually great news, but how could I have been tricked? I should know better than this.

My mind is stunned by the fact that he’s not a John, and we didn’t start out as a trick and a prostitute with me being just some random piece of cheap ass he was willing to pay for. He goes out there to clean the streets just as I do. He’s a good man through and through, and not someone looking to exploit a prostitute. Everything about this revelation is giving me new life.

"I should never have started this thing to begin with, but I couldn't help myself. I was drawn to you, and I didn’t want to let you go, Yandy. I'm so sorry I've been lying to you, but I just couldn’t figure out how to clean things up once it got started," Blaze continues, willing me to believe him by the sincerity in his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

"No, you don't understand," I say, waving for him to stop talking. "You just stole my line. I just got off the phone with my boss, and I was going to tell you to be careful tonight."

Blaze drops his phone. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Speak to me like I’m a two-year-old,” he uses my line.

“I was about to warn you that we’re going to be arresting any Blazes we find this week, men out soliciting for sex. I was worried about you getting arrested by my team.”

"You're a cop?” he asks, disbelievingly.

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