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“Seriously?” I asked, sliding from his grasp. “What’s gotten into you?”
“You,” he stated. “Or the lack thereof, rather.”
“Let’s not start this tonight,” I suggested, waving my right hand in the air.
“Start what?” he asked as if he was clueless.
“This. Any of it.”
“Yeah. Aight.”
“What’s so funny?” I asked, peeved by the sniggering he was doing.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Trying to convince us both that your pussy not wet and your heart not pounding against your chest right now. Yeah, you, Nay. You and these fucking games you like to play.”
“I’m not playing any games, Milo.”
“Then prove it.”
“Prove it?”
Stepping forward, Milo lifted his hand until it reached the seat of my shorts, which were scorching hot and soaked in my secretion. My nostrils flared as frustration mounted in my belly. I gazed into his full, round eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything. When the pressure became too much, I stepped backward, catching my breath as I did so.
“Ugh,” I scoffed.
“Exactly what the fuck I thought. Now, you trying to spend the weekend with your nigga or what?”
“You’re not my nigga, Milo. And no. The answer still stands. Your son is upstairs. Feel free to grab him while I check his bag again.”
I started for the kitchen, only to be stopped, again. This time, Milo wrapped his arm around my neck, placing his lips at my ear as he spoke.
“You can save us both the heartache and anticipation. Your pussy wet, my dick hard, we can handle this like adults before I go up and getourson. Or, we can build and wait for the climax. I’m cool either way. Your choice. But making me wait will force me to make you pay.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I froze in place momentarily. My chest rose and fell, rose and fell. Blood spilled in my mouth as I bit into my bottom lip, needing to release the pressure that was building from my vagina. My womb was tingling, ready to grow the seeds I knew Milo would plant, giving me two children under the age of two.
“Mason is upstairs,” I breathed, finally pulling away.
Nodding, with a sinister smile on his face, he set me free and moved in the direction in which I’d advised. The energy required to dodge the fiery bullet left me depleted. I scurried into the kitchen, double-checked Mason’s bag, and secured the milk he’d need to get through the weekend. There wasn’t much at my home that Milo didn’t already have at his, so his bag was fairly empty, mostly filled with ice packs and frozen breastmilk. I pulled it up on my shoulder and transferred it to the console table near the entryway.
“He was awake. Just sitting there, staring into the dark,” Milo said to me, descending the stairs.
“Geez, you scared me.”
I watched as they both made their way down.
“I’m going to put him in the seat that’s already in my truck.”
He was headed for the door, already, a little too fast for my liking. It was the very first time that Mason would be away from me for more than an hour or two. Milo had taken him on rides to calm him down during a tantrum and taken him to visit Aussie a few times, but never for an extensive period.
“Wait. I need to kiss his cheeks. And maybe I should let him nurse before you guys take off.”
“Nature, don’t start. I know that look. The wheels are already turning in your head but them motherfuckers might as well stop. He’s coming with his pops and you’re going to enjoy your weekend, aight?”
“Okay,” I whined.
