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Feeling like jelly, I slip loosing my grip on the ottoman, but he pulls me flush against his body. His long dick slides in and out, slick from me coming on him again. He stands, working my body on his dick like a rag doll. Leaning back on the sofa, he starts bouncing me on his lap. I can do nothing but brace my hands on his knees.
“I’m going to use you. Your pussy is mine. This ass.” He drives his fingers in, making me arch. Making me love it. “Open your mouth.” I do. Leaning forward, he skeets in it, then licks it. “This mouth. All of you is mine.” Taking his fingers from my bottom, he pulls me back against his chest, holding me close while he’s stroking me. His free hand moves and plays with my clit.
“Who do you belong to?” he growls, his gaze never wavering.
“Y-you.” I mean it. Lust, regret, and yes, love mingling.
“No more lies,” he demands, his fingers swirling over me to distraction.
“No more lies,” I promise.
Faster, his fingers move in maddening butterfly strokes. The sensations are so intense, I don’t know if I want to squeeze my legs closed or if I want to open them further. Mathias takes that decision from me. By spreading his legs wide, he forces mine, which are draped over his, wider. His hips are like a machine thrusting into me. “Still so tight, gripping my dick, sucking it in.” He growls in my ear. He sucks on my earlobe, his fingers just holding my clit before giving it more torturous swirls, then repeating the process.
“So fucking wet.” He pulls his dripping fingers away along with a connected strand of my essence, bringing them to his mouth. Mathias sucks one finger, then presses the middle one into my mouth, making me suck it clean. “You like that shit, huh?” he whispers with smutty relish when my muscles clench around his dick from what he’s making me do.
His hand clamps firmly around my waist. Then, harder and harder, he fucks into me.
“Minha,” he growls in Portuguese.
“Yours,” I confirm.
His fingers start their destruction again.
“Come for me, minha pequena,” he whispers, touching his nose to mine. Our eyes lock, and he fucks me into oblivion. And I come, my back arching like I’ve been struck by lightning, pleasure cascading over me like pinpricks. With a hard thrust, he clamps his teeth down on my neck so hard, I see a kaleidoscope of stars, my pussy tightening around his jutting dick, his come filling me to overflowing.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Nikki
Husband: CHECK YOUR EMAIL
I openmy email to see three letters of recommendation for graduate school. One is from the university president, Fane, the other from Dr. Lexington Spencer, a local surgeon, and the last from my cousin Mimi’s brother-in-law Hishashi Takeda, the vice president of Creative Chaos. With these prominent members of my community vouching for me, I’m be guaranteed a spot in the fall. I know without having to ask that Mathias did that for me.
Me: THANK YOU
Getting up from the newly covered sofa, I slowly make my way over to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate. Fall is in full swing. The election is a few days. Mathias left to make the rounds with the local and not-so-local news stations. He’s going to a football game at Shelby University and said he wants me to go, but honestly I don’t know how I’m going to be able to.
“I’m sore,” I told him when he was getting ready to take care of campaign business.
“Take an ibuprofen.” He gave me an unwavering look. “I know you didn’t in fact sign up for this. I get that, Nik. But you still promised last night to stay with me. That means being the wife of a senator. Is that something you want to do? Can do?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, but I don’t think either of us believed me.
He let me off the hook for this morning, but I’m not sure how much more leeway he or the campaign will be willing to give me.
I take some cut-up fruit left over from breakfast and warm up a croissant. Once my midday meal is set, I go back to the seating area so I can start the application process for the schools I want to attend. I add Howard University to the list, since I will be living in DC for the next six years.
My phone buzzes from an unknown number. I ignore it. By the third time, I answer just so I won’t be blocking anyone.
“I thought I was going to need Ezekiel-Jane to send her man, Angel, over there to make sure that boy ain’t buried you out in them fields,” chimes my grandmother on the other line.
“Mama-Pete,” I chide.
“Don’tMama-Peteme. Kandie and them told me all about that mess over at the Kandie Shoppe. I see my grandbaby LL hushed it up too. I hope y’all paying him good.” I can tell she’s chewing on her corncob pipe and probably sitting on Easy and Angel’s vast veranda, having made herself at home in the billionaire’s hidden mansion—you have to agree to be blindfolded to travel there and have no tech while visiting his property. Trespassers and violators are never seen again. Angel takes the protection of his family seriously, and he should, he has a lot of enemies.
I rub my forehead at the direction of this conversation. “I’m sure he is being very well compensated, Mama-Pete. What can I do for you, Ms. Ma’am?” I smile indulgently despite my soreness, knowing she’s about to get tight with me.
“It’s not what you can do for me, lil’ girl. We see y’all had a dip in the Latino vote around here.”
