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TWENTY-TWO
I could hardly sleep the night before, energized to the max after Brandon blew my mind with that incredible oral.
His tongue inside me pushed my body to the pleasure cliff, and his thumb on my clit threw me over the edge.
Brandon moved so fast and hostile, yet it hurt sweetly. I’ve never felt a pain that good.
That’s why I’m beaming like an idiot as I dress for school, eager to see him, and already anticipating the next time he stimulates my body.
Momma’s shift starts a little later on Fridays, so she’s able to have breakfast with us.
“How’s art, honey?” she asks as I sit down to eat. “Have you started building your portfolio for college?”
“Mm-hm.” I swallow what’s in my mouth to speak. “I’ve already added two pieces to my portfolio. Ms. Jung, my teacher, recommends at least ten best pieces to improve my chances at Pratt.”
They both smile, ever the proud parents.
“That’s good,” Dad says. “I’m sure you’ll land a scholarship easily.”
“Indeed.” Momma brushes my cheek with the back of her hand. “Because you are one talented kid.”
I beam at them. “Thanks, guys. I got it from you both.”
Dad chuckles and waves me off. “It was all your mom. Cynthia blessed you with the creative genes.”
Momma slaps his arm. “Don’t you start now, Mal. You’re the baker, and your mother was a seamstress. Art runs in your side.”
Love emits as always in the heartfelt smiles they afford each other.
I admire what my parents share, and hope to experience something like that in the future.
Knocking resounds as I’m finishing my orange juice. “There’s Brandon. I’ll see you guys later.”
“All right. Have a good day, Kayla bug,” Dad says.
“I need to meet this boy,” Momma declares, pushing up from the table.
Dad calls out, “Remember, Brandon has that thing about touch.” Right. I totally forgot to explain it to her. I guess Dad spared me a conversation.
“Wonder how long that will last,” Momma throws back with sarcasm.
She moseys to the living room. I grab my bag from the back of the chair, wave to Dad, and head out.
“Well, hello,” Momma greets Brandon after opening the door.
His handsome face stirs butterflies in my stomach. “Morning, Mrs. McNeil. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He flicks to me and half-smiles. “Kayla.”
Instantly, last night’s erotic moment in my bed rushes back in gnawing lust, causing warmth between my legs.
I push aside the dirty visions as Momma speaks to Brandon. “I trust Malcolm’s impression of you. But you listen to me, young man, if you—”
“Mom,” I groan.
She draws air through her teeth and squints at Brandon. “Just don’t play with my baby, and no one gets hurt.”
Brandon squares his shoulders and assures with a serious expression, “Wouldn’t dare.”
“We have to go,” I tell her, and step outside.
