Londyn
He hadn’t called.
He hadn’t called, he hadn’t texted, he had approved my follower request on Instagram and followed me back, but that was the most action Chance had given me since I left things up to him. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was purposely going out of his way to avoid me, not even showing up to the cafeteria at work outside of the one time I saw him there.
It didn’t make sense. And while I wanted to be bothered by his lack of interest, I knew I couldn’t sweat it. If he wanted to spend his time back home with blue balls, that was his choice.
Lucky for me, I had someone to keep me company regardless, even if that meant dragging him to the nail salon on a Saturday afternoon for pedicures. It wasn’t the first time I had invited Khalid along, but it was the first time he had agreed to come. And even though he still wasn’t convinced he would enjoy the experience, I was just happy to have someone to gossip with instead of spending the time entire reading the captions of whatever Lifetime movie was on the television.
“Should I do white? I feel like I always do white,” I asked as I scanned the rows upon rows of polishes, the different variations of red all beginning to blend together.
Of course Khalid didn’t care either way, already bored with the wait when he answered, “Not a single color over here will make your dogs look any better, so you might as well just cover your eyes and throw a dart.”
“You’re such a hater,” I groaned, throwing an elbow his way before grabbing the white polish just as the bell over the door rang to signal another customer. But it wasn’t just any customer, more like a familiar face I gladly hadn’t seen in years; her arrogant smirk alone enough to make my skin crawl as she gave one of the nail techs air kisses before marching my direction.
With every one of her confident strides, I felt myself growing smaller and smaller the same way I used to back in school. But then I remembered this wasn’t the halls of Windsor High, we were very much on a level playing field, and the only reason she was still trying her hardest to stunt on me was because she was jealous I had taken her spot as captain on the cheerleading squad when I was a freshman and she was a senior.
Petty high school shit like we weren’t grown as hell now.
Just the thought had me rolling my eyes, though I still braced myself for whatever she planned to throw my way. And I was hardly surprised when she went with the one thing she knew annoyed the shit out of me. “Well if it isn’t little Eric. Glad to see you finally grew into that head of yours.”
“And it looks like you’ve just about grown out of yours,” was the comeback I had in my head, but it would’ve been a lie since Michelle looked... great.
How annoying.
Instead of stooping to her level with insults, I matched her smirk with one of my own. “Hello to you too, Michelle. I would say it’s good to see you, but you and I both know that’d be a lie.”
It wasn’t that I completely hated Michelle. I guess I just hated what she always tried to emulate. The mean girl, the wanna-be bougie, the… what the hell did Chance ever see in her?
He had always been so chill, so laid back, even while being the big man on campus. And she had always been so… extra. The Queen Bee type who apparently still kept a crowd of yes-girls around her since her weave was looking a little suspect.
It was the same hair she used to argue was all hers as if we all couldn’t see her poor attempts at blending it. And while I was tempted to comment on the fact that she still hadn’t learned her lesson, I was forced out of my thoughts when she finally spoke again. “I saw your mother’s video. I see she hasn’t changed a bit. Always so desperate for attention.”
Khalid’s eyes flashed my way as if he was already prepared to pull my hands out of her raggedy ass weave when I dragged her for talking shit about my mother. But since I knew that was exactly where she wanted me, I simply shrugged when I replied, “Takes one to know one, Shelly.”
Instead of responding, she only wrinkled her nose at me, saved by the nail techs who were ready for Khalid and I. But it was just my luck that Michelle was seated only a few pedicure chairs over, eventually joined by a girl I remembered from her clique.
No wonder her ass hasn’t grown up.
While I had brought Khalid with me specifically for conversation, I couldn’t help eavesdropping on theirs, especially once I heard what I wished I hadn’t.
“Your girl is finally about to be Mrs. Washington.”
“Girl, bye. Chance is way too smart to fall for your nice girl bullshit.”
“Well all that faking orgasms over the years must’ve improved my acting skills because he was all over me when I was helping him and his mama work on her house. Had a bitch removing drywall better than Tim “The Toolman” Taylor.”
“That white man from Home Improvement? Bitch, you’re crazy.”
“I must be. Doin’ construction for the D…” she sang, her friend joining her in one of those too loud for public laughs that had the whole shop looking their direction. Even Khalid was throwing a side eye their way, the noise apparently disrupting the relaxation groove I hadn’t even realized he was in.
Because you should’ve been minding your own business, Londyn.
Since it was his first time, I couldn’t help teasing, “Well, well, well. Look who’s enjoying nail shop time with bestie after all.”
“Nah, I’m enjoying nail shop time by myself since you so busy eavesdropping on those chickenheads’ conversation,” he replied with an annoyed nod in their direction before resting his head against the back of his massage chair and closing his eyes dismissively.
Even though he was being shady, I still leaned in his direction so that I could tell him, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
But when he opened his eyes, it wasn’t to accept my apology, instead so that he could ask, “Is that why you’re beefin’ with her? Cause she has him?”
While the whole idea of her “having” him wasn’t sitting quite right with me, I was still able to brush him off with ease, straightening up in my chair when I answered, “My reasons for beefin’ with her have nothing to do with him.”
“Mmmhmm. You ain’t gotta lie, LoLo. I know you. Sometimes better than you know your damn self,” he insisted, this time leaning in my direction as if he was trying to get a better read on me.
The pressure of his gaze was almost enough to have me admitting the full truth; that I certainly felt sick listening to Michelle go on and on about Chance. But that didn’t stop me from challenging, “Well tell me what I don’t know, Khalid.”
His voice was low enough to stay between us when he replied, “You want Chance, but he apparently doesn’t feel the same about you cause he’s too busy playing Habitat for Humanity and shit with ol’ girl over there.”
“So I see I wasn’t the only one eavesdropping,” I groaned with a roll of my eyes, mad he had made a big deal of me not paying him any attention as if he hadn’t been doing the same thing I was.
He at least had better reasons, quick to defend, “Shit, I ain’t have a choice. Them birds over there talkin’ all loud like they’re the only ones in here, disrupting my zen with my girl Ling here.”
“Her name is definitely Mary,” I said with a laugh, hoping she hadn’t heard his ignorant ass.
But just because I saw it as ignorance didn’t mean he saw things the same way, leaning in a little more to whisper, “Her American name is Mary. Stay woke, Londyn.”
This time, I really bust out laughing, sitting back in my seat as I said, “Anyway. I’m not trippin’ off either one of them. If that’s what he wants, more power to him.”
It sounded good coming off my lips, but I didn’t really mean it. And Khalid knew it too, laughing at me when he said, “Damn. Ol’ boy really got you big mad. Ain’t used to somebody turning your ass down, I see.”
“You turned me down, remember?” I asked with a scowl, the memory alone making me want to slap his ass the same way I wanted to in that moment. I mean, how dare he have the foresight to make a decision for us that worked out perfectly in the long run?
My scowl only made him laugh again. “Yeah, and you ain’t talk to me for a full week after. With your salty ass.”
“That shit hurt my feelings!”
“Well it would’ve hurt more if I would’ve dogged your ass out. Then who would you be at the nail shop with on this lovely Saturday afternoon?” he asked with a teasing smirk.
One I couldn’t help matching with one of my own when I answered, “Probably my sugar daddy.”
He groaned in disgust, making me laugh just as my phone vibrated in my lap. And when I picked it up, I saw it was a text from a number I didn’t have saved, though the message told me everything I needed to know about the sender.
My petty was on full tilt when I told Khalid, “All over her, but in my inbox…?”
“Word?” he asked with wide eyes as I handed him my phone to see the message for himself.
“I’m ready for that answer, Londyn.”
Since the number wasn’t saved, Khalid looked confused, handing it back while asking, “How do you know it’s him?”
While I saved the number to my contacts, I explained, “I told him to hit me up when he wanted an answer to something he asked me at work. It’s gotta be him.”
“And you’re gonna entertain that shit knowing he was messing around with ol’ girl?” Khalid asked, making way more sense than I needed him to for the situation. But it was moments like this when I appreciated his male insight, his question enough for me to at least put my phone down.
“You’re right. I’m not gonna respond… yet. Make him sweat a little bit,” I said, focusing back on my nail tech as she tickled - scrubbed - the hell out of the bottom of my foot.
Khalid wasn’t nearly as relaxed as I was, still pressed about what I thought was the right decision when he said, “Man, I hate when girls do that shit. Wanna be on y’all phones twenty-four eight. But when a nigga finally hit you on some act right, y’all play the waiting game.”
“It works though,” I insisted, having enough experience to know nothing made a man more anxious than waiting for a response.
And the reason Khalid was so pressed was because he knew it too, shaking his head as he agreed, “There’s truly nothing more humbling than waiting all day to hear back, just to be left on read by someone you’re interested in.”
“You know what else is mad annoying? When you text somebody and then you see them on social media. I mean, I’ve ignored people too because nothing is that urgent, but damn it sucks to be on the other end.”
That one really got Khalid fired up as he barked, “Man, that shit childish. Like, just tell me how you really feel. You ain’t gotta do all that.”
“So… I… shouldn’t post this picture of our feet with a heart as the caption?” I asked, already playing with the filters trying to decide which one gave the picture a more intimate feel.
It was silly. Something I wasn’t even sure Chance would see, though I was clearly on his mind according to his text. And Khalid didn’t exactly agree with the move when he answered, “Yeah, if you want ol’ boy sitting on your porch when we leave here like a damn psycho.”
The idea of Chance being that jealous only fueled my flame, giving me everything I needed to tag Khalid in the picture before pressing “Share”. And as I watched the likes start to roll in, I finally replied, “Well he should’ve thought about that before he started playing Bob the Builder with Michelle.”
&
So he wasn’t waiting on my porch when I got home, but he had sent his text again only to be met with the same thing; me ignoring him. And it felt… good to have him on his toes, felt great to stick it to Michelle even if she wasn’t aware, and it felt especially exhilarating to finally break my silence since him reaching out to me was what I wanted in the first place. But breaking my silence wasn’t synonymous with me letting him off easy, made apparent when I replied to his message with, “Who’s this?”
As if I hadn’t made him wait all day for my response, he didn’t make me wait at all, his message making me laugh since I could practically feel the tension.
“Damn. You got so many dudes hittin’ you up you don’t even know who it is?” - Chance
Knowing exactly who it was, I played right into his little assumption.
“Obviously…” - Londyn
“It’s Chance.” - Chance
With my lip pulled between my teeth as I snuggled deeper into the couch, I quickly thought of another way to tease him when I sent my next message.
“Dude #13. Funny seeing you in my inbox this evening.” - Londyn
“You told me to hit you up when I wanted an answer to my question.” - Chance
“And you must not have read the fine print on that offer. Shits expired, homie.” - Londyn
Once again, I was only teasing him, knowing there was no such thing since he could pretty much get it anytime, anywhere. But this time, instead of feeling giddy with control of the conversation, he ripped it right from me, the power in his response making me gasp… and hot all over.
“Well renew it. I want you.” - Chance
Unfortunately, his declaration wasn’t as simple as making it happen, other variables enough to cool me down as I thought about his little building buddy. And with the memory of our interaction from earlier still fresh on my mind, it was easy to fight fire with fire when I typed out my next text.
“Because Michelle already cut you off?” - Londyn
The speed of our texts back and forth had been fairly steady until I sent that one, Chance taking his dear sweet time to respond which meant he was probably trying to come up with some weak ass lie.
“And he said he’s not trash like these other dudes around here…” I thought just as his reply finally came in, my eyes squinting as I read it a few times over, trying to decide how much I wanted to tell.
“Michelle? What does she have to do with anything???” - Chance
“I saw her today at the nail shop. And she was SO excited to brag to her little friend about you being all over her at your mom’s house. Might wanna clean up your game if you’re really trying to juggle multiple women.” - Londyn
Fuckin’ with Chance exclusively while he was in town was one thing, but being a part of his hometown rotation was not going to happen. Though of course he did his best to save face when he responded. “Man, what? The only reason I touched her was to save her clumsy ass when she almost fell off the ladder.” - Chance
“She probably did that shit on purpose,” was what I wanted to reply since ol’ girl was clearly on a mission to get Chance by any means necessary. And with that in mind, it seemed plausible that that was really all that had happened between them, allowing me to relax just slightly with my next text.
“You ain’t gotta lie, Craig.” - Londyn
“LOL. Quit playin’ with me, LoLo.” - Chance
“Bonus points for understanding my movie references,” I said out loud with a smile, a little mad that he had managed to change my energy towards him so easily even when I replied, “I don’t play. That’s for children. It’s called strategy.” - Londyn
“Well can you use some of that strategy to open your front door?” - Chance
“What?” I gasped in a panic, my hands first going to my head to snatch off the scarf I had tied over my braids and my eyes flashing down to the grungy, oversized t-shirt I was wearing with a pair of Khalid’s basketball shorts I’d stolen.
The least sexiest thing possible.
It was a little embarrassing, but it would have to do. And truthfully, he still had some questions to answer before he’d ever get my full sexy again; not to mention his ass had shown up unannounced which was a complete violation.
Maybe he is a psycho after all.
As if I had forgotten about him that fast, he rang the doorbell, the noise making me jump before I took a deep breath to calm myself. I mean, this was just Chance after all. He’d seen me through plenty of sketchy phases growing up. And if he was here for what I thought he was, clothes would quickly become irrelevant anyway.
I stopped in front of the mirror to check myself one last time when the doorbell rang again, his urgency annoying me as I finally snatched the door open and barked, “Don’t you ever show up to my house without an invitation. I could have one of my dudes in here.”
I was glad I had gotten my sentence out before taking a full look at him, his casual apparel of a gray Nike Tech hoodie with matching sweatpants enough to make my mouth water as if he was standing on my porch naked.
“Might as well be,” I thought, especially when he gave me that sexy ass smirk and laugh combination to reply, “If that was the case, I would be saving you. Now let me in.”
He was already taking a step towards me when I stopped him with a simple, “No.”
“No?”
I put on my best attitude like it was a wig, straightening my stance as I repeated, “No. You don’t get to just show up and… be this fine, and smell this good, and…” shit, my wig is slipping “still not give an explanation for what took you so long to get in touch.”
Knowing he had spent time with Michelle during the interim was almost enough to make my attitude real, though Chance didn’t attribute his absence to that at all when he explained, “I had to think about it.”
“Think about it? What was there to think about? It’s as simple as your thing in mine, repeat until we both get enough.”
“So why are we still standing out here talking then?” he asked, the question so fair that I almost said fuck it and agreed with him.
But since that would’ve only made things too easy for him, I twisted my lips, averting my eyes when I pushed out, “Because… I’m not in the mood for you.”
“Well let me get you in the mood for me,” he quickly replied with another of his little smirks, taking a step closer and bending his head to land a kiss at the crook of my neck.
A kiss that I accepted - and moaned in response to - even when I groaned, “Ugh. I don’t know where your mouth has been.”
“You know where it’s about to be though,” he replied as his lips moved from my neck to my ear, tugging it between his teeth before he laughed right against it. And while I felt myself growing weaker and weaker by the second, somehow I found a last little bit of strength to make myself clear.
“I don’t share, Chance. Especially with people I don’t like.”
As if he understood exactly what I was talking about without even mentioning her name, he gave a short nod. “Good to know. Now can I put my thing in yours and repeat, or what?”
It sounded especially goofy coming from his lips, making me giggle as I stepped aside and told him, “Get your silly ass in here.”
Once he followed me in, he wasted no time attacking me from behind, completely crowding me when he draped one arm across my upper half and wrapped the other around my waist to keep me in place. And it felt insanely good to have him all around me, to be enveloped by his scent, to have his dick pressing against my back through his pants as he growled, “I’ma make you pay for duckin’ and dodgin’ me all day too. Think I ain’t see your little post on Instagram?”
“It was a cute picture, huh?” I asked teasingly, earning myself a full bite to my neck that had me closing my eyes in pleasure.
He pulled his lips away just long enough to mock, “Oh, I got your cute picture, alright…” Going back in for more as I held onto his arm while he kissed and nibbled our way to the couch. And once we were there, he was quick to get rid of his hoodie and pants, watching him undress a sight worth stopping to admire.
Though I also couldn’t help mentioning, “You probably aren’t getting this hoodie back.”
“Well go ahead and run me sixty dollars then since you wanna play sticky fingers with my shit,” he replied, making me laugh as he moved on from removing his clothes to removing mine. With his hands at the waistband of my shorts, he stopped to ask, “Who’d you get these basketball shorts from? I don’t remember you being a hooper.”
It would’ve been easy to be honest, tell him I “borrowed” them from Khalid the same way I planned on “borrowing” his hoodie. But making it easy wasn’t nearly as fun as answering, “None of your business. Just take them off.”
Instead of doing what I demanded, his face turned completely serious. “I don’t share either, Londyn.”
Seeing him all sexy, and possessive, and almost naked had me ready to hand over the lock and key to everything me without even looking back. But I somehow managed to be a little more sensible, taking a page out of his book when I answered, “Good to know. Now are you gonna get to what you’re here for, or do you need to stop and retreat to your safe space?”
He wasn’t at all fazed by my little jab, instead tugging at my shorts then my panties as he said, “You’re such an asshole, LoLo.”
“Only because you haven’t put anything in mine,” I replied, my voice muffled as I pulled my shirt over my head, leaving me as almost naked as he was.
I wasn’t sure if he was grinning in reaction to that or to what I had said. Either way, my heart started racing when he insisted, “Shit, if that’s what you want,” before grabbing me by the ankles to yank me towards the edge of the couch. Then he got rid of his boxers, the sight of his harder-than-reasonable dick only making me wetter - while also scaring the shit out of me since it definitely couldn’t fit anywhere near my asshole. But that didn’t mean I was backing down, licking my lips as I told him, “I was just joking. Maybe.”
Instead of tiptoeing around the idea like I was, he jumped right to it, his face pulled into a teasing expression when he urged, “Londyn, if you want me to fuck you in the ass, just say it. Otherwise, I’m about to tear this pussy up.”
The way he spoke of it so aggressively only made it that much more tempting. But then I looked at his dick again and... , “Uhhh… how about we stick to what I know you’re good at.”
He laughed, reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants for his wallet - and a condom -, pulling out a ribbed one to my delight as he replied, “Yeah, cause your ass is scared you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
While I wanted to ask if he had bought those kind just for me, I was too distracted by his claims, rolling my eyes as I said, “Boy, we’re taking anal play, not ass shots.”
“Different mission, same side effects. But I understand. I’d be scared too,” he teased as he rolled the condom on, then dropped to his knees in front of me.
“Well you better not ever go to prison then…” I warned, watching as he made himself more comfortable. And once he settled in, he wasted no time teasing me, rubbing the tip of his dick against my clit in a way that only made my appetite for him triple in size.
“You either. Cause then you won’t be able to get any of this,” he replied arrogantly, watching me squirm in reaction to his teasing as he glided from my clit down to the slick folds of my opening.
But he didn’t enter me right away, giving me a chance to respond, “I could probably bargain for it. Box of cigarettes in exchange for… shittttt. Not this.”
“Mmhmm, what’d you say?” he asked, hooking the back of my knees over his shoulders and plunging into me again, this time even deeper.
It was ridiculous how good he felt, how he filled me to the brim with the perfect balance of pleasure and pain, how he was still wearing that arrogant grin while meeting me with seemingly-endless deep strokes. And once he matched his strokes with a stiff finger against my clit, I was practically worthless, struggling to respond, “I said… this is worth… two boxes of cigarettes.”
“And what else?” he grunted, completely in his bag as he stroked me senseless without any signs of slowing up.
My eyes were tight along with my fists as I gripped into the throw pillows nearby, greedily accepting every inch he dug inside of me when I answered, “And a… fuck… book of stamps.”
“And what else?” he growled just above the sounds of our skin smacking together, the single bead of sweat building on his forehead the only sign of him being anywhere near as affected as I was. But I didn’t care if he remained in tip-top, Olympic shape as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing, especially when he demanded, “Tell me what else, Londyn.”
Any more knowledge I thought I had on the prison commissary system completely left my mind, my brain too focused on him as he increased the frequency of his strokes. It was almost as if he was purposely using his dick as a distraction to stump me, though the competitor in me allowed me to push out, “And ramen noodles.”
His strokes came to a halt, the sounds of our bodies crashing replaced with his laughs as he said, “You must got you a little prison bae if you know all this shit. Too bad he only gets pictures and a couple dollars on his books while I get to do this.” Then he dug into me with another spellbinding stroke that had me seeing stars, my skin tingling from the inside out as he delivered inch after inch of dick worth turning psycho for.
No wonder Michelle’s ass was doing construction.
Before I could spoil my bliss with thoughts of… whatever they had going on, I focused back on Chance as he started rolling his hips into me, creating a delicious friction against my clit that had me pushing him away with my fingertips. At least that’s what I was trying to do, Chance locking me in with his hands at my hips when he rumbled, “Nah, move your hands. You gettin’ all this dick.”
And, well… I moved my hands, grabbing my breasts instead as I fought against everything he was dishing out. But the feel of my nipples between my fingertips only turned me on more, the tension building down below as I begged him not to stop.
Thankfully, he accepted my pleas, seemingly going into overdrive until I came completely undone then continuing past that point to get his own. And while I probably could’ve laid right there, crumbled against the couch for the rest of the night, I damn near jumped off it when I felt his mouth covering all of me, my back arching as he gave a slow swipe with his tongue against my swollen pearl.
“Just as good as I remembered,” he moaned, landing kisses against both of my inner thighs before he stood up and headed to the bathroom.
It wasn’t even fair that he was already walking while I still felt so sensitive all over, the aftershocks steady shooting from my head to my pussy as if Chance was still inside of me. But he was far removed from the act, returning from the bathroom in all his naked glory to ask, “So when does your little prison pen pal get out? I need to know so I can watch my back.”
I wanted to laugh since the idea of me having some cold-blooded killer on my roster had him so obviously shook. But unfortunately, there wasn’t anything funny about the truth, a secret few people knew since it wasn’t exactly anything to be proud of.
Maybe it was my vulnerable state, my sex drunk haze. Or maybe I just trusted Chance enough to give him the real when I shared, “My dad had a brief prison stint. That’s how I knew the answers to your... dick Jeopardy.”
“I didn’t know your dad went to prison,” he replied, not as surprised as I expected him to be.
But I appreciated him not making a big deal about it, his reaction making me comfortable enough to explain, “Cause my mother had me telling people he was away working on an oil rig for those six and a half years. But we used to write back and forth when he was locked up. And whatever little extra money I had, I’d send so he could ball out; commissary style.”
“Cigarettes, stamps, and ramen noodles, huh?” he asked with a grin, remembering all the things I had listed on his command.
“And good soap. I remember now that you aren’t inside of me,” I replied with a grin of my own.
It was crazy how content I felt just watching him do regular shit like putting his boxers back on, my ogling interrupted only when he asked, “He’s out now though, ain’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s been out for almost five years. Spent three of them on probation and now he’s just… making it, I guess,” I answered with a shrug, the details making me want to put my own clothes back on; feeling especially exposed now that I had really opened that can of worms.
But regardless of how I felt, that didn’t stop Chance from continuing his streak of questions, this time stopping to ask, “Y’all don’t talk?”
Once again, I shrugged, grabbing my t-shirt and pulling it back on as I answered, “Occasionally. But he’s never really been the same. Prison just… it changes people, you know.”
I would never forget the day his mother and I picked him up from prison with only a bag of the things he had come in with and a box of the letters and pictures we had sent over the years. I remember so desperately wanting to see the light in his eyes, a response to his freedom. But he remained… stoic, as if being on the outside didn’t mean anything, as if being back with us didn’t mean anything.
It took me awhile to realize it wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to be out, he was just so mentally scarred by the things he had seen on the inside, forced into stoicism to avoid going completely insane. And while I always wanted to ask him about it, or at least get him some help so that he could appropriately deal with what was essentially PTSD, doing that while also trying to finish college and land my dream job just didn’t work out.
I had to choose one or the other.
And I chose myself.
“Thankfully I can only imagine,” Chance finally replied, knocking me from my thoughts of the past.
I was grateful for the distraction of watching him step into his sweats, the sight allowing me to tease, “Well you better keep it that way cause your thighs are thick and strong, and your ass is nice and tight.”
He continued getting dressed until he caught on to what I was implying, his face scrunching in disgust as he stopped to say, “You’re sick in the head.”
“Just stating an observation. It’s really a compliment. At least, coming from me it is,” I defended with a laugh, a little disappointed when I saw him making moves towards the hoodie I was hoping he forgot about.
“Whatever. Let me get outta here before you kick me out anyway,” he said, getting ready to put it back on until I caught him in the act with a serious question.
“Why are you taking my hoodie with you?”
“Cause it ain’t yours,” he replied with a teasing smirk, almost as if he was rubbing it in that I couldn’t really have it.
Still, that didn’t stop me from insisting, “Okay, our hoodie.”
Instead of indulging me, he only laughed, yanking it over his head as he said, “Man, you’re crazy. What you got goin’ tomorrow night?”
Since he was back fully dressed, I decided to do the same, grabbing my panties as I answered, “Supposed to be going to the Zalayah concert.”
“With your little loverboy bestie, huh?”
The jealousy in his tone tickled me to no end, tempting me to answer yes just to see him really get bent out of shape. But since he had done me the favor of a solid orgasm, I decided to play nice when I told him, “No, with my mother. Zalayah gave her free tickets and backstage passes after that whole viral video thing. Why do you ask though?”
He was watching me get dressed the same way I had watched him, his hands in his pockets as he licked his lips and replied, “Just trying to figure this whole thing out.”
“As in…”
“As in, how can I maximize the rest of my time in town by spending as much of it as possible listening to your sweet little moans when I’m fuckin’ you.”
The brazenness of his words had me ready to take all that shit back off, really maximize every second of being in each other’s presence since apparently that was his mission. But instead of acting as thirsty as I felt, I released an astonished, “Wow. You don’t even pretend to censor anything, do you?”
“Because you love that shit,” he replied with a smirk so arrogant I wanted to deny his words.
But I couldn’t, especially since I was back hot between the thighs off his plans alone, forcing me to admit, “I really, really do. But uh… just hit me up. Matter of fact, I’ll hit you up. I should be around after the concert.”
“Aight. Don’t forget about me.”
I was already walking him to the door as I reminded him, “I should be telling you that. I mean, you’re the one who waited all of…”
“Too damn long to use your number. I’m sorry. You forgive me?”
It was in that moment I decided Chance was either a fuckboy or too good to be true. I mean, his apology was way too damn smooth, the look he paired with it was way too easy to forgive. And when he rubbed a gentle thumb against the inside of my wrist while waiting for me to answer, I could tell this wasn’t his first time in someone’s doghouse.
But it worked like a charm, his apology craft perfected just as much as his dick game, even when I replied, “I prefer my apologies with tongue, but I suppose this will do.”
“How about we do both?” he asked, stepping closer and licking his lips as if he was giving a preview of what he’d do to me if I agreed.
With that right in my face, I felt like I had no choice but to respond, “Well in that case, why are we still standing here talking?”