DAMON
I pulled up to Dorian and Reema’s house with my appetite on swole. Today was the first time since I’d been back home permanently that I’d had a chance to stop by for one of Reema’s home cooked meals and I was taking full advantage. Between her being able to burn on her native cultural cuisine, Indian, and being able to throw down on some soul food, sis in law was all right with me. Before I took off for France, I was at their table at least three out of five nights of my work week, too exhausted to even think about cooking for myself, I knew I could count on a hot meal or easily microwavable leftovers at Dor and Reema’s. There was also the added bonus of being able to hang out with the coolest three year old I knew, DJ. Dorian and Reema had named me his godfather, which shocked the hell out of me, but I took the role very seriously from day one. I loved all of my nieces and nephews, but my bond with DJ went just a little deeper. Which, honestly, was expected because of all of my brothers—Dorian and I were the closest.
As I walked up to their door, I could see DJ’s little face peeking through the curtains. I shot him a grin before lifting my hand to ring the doorbell. I used to have a key, but Dorian took it back after one too many incidents of me walking in him and Reema in…delicate situations. I could hear Reema coaching DJ to ask who was at the door and his little voice saying, “Is Unca Dame…I seed him!” Slowly the door crept open, and DJ turned back to Reema looking at her like “didn’t I tell you who was there?”
“Deej, my main man…gimme five,” I said, crossing the threshold and scooping him up into my arms.
With DJ in one arm, I gave Reema a half hug with the other and handed her the box I’d been carrying. I figured the least I could do was bring dessert, so before I left the bake shop, I made a simple pineapple coconut cake—Dorian and Reema’s favorite.
“Where’s bighead?”
“You know where he is,” she replied, shaking her head.
There was only one place to find Dorian after work, but before dinner. He was in his state of the art man cave, probably watching The Six.
“I fly?” DJ asked, flashing me a grin that showed all twenty of his teeth.
All it took was those two words for me to transform from mild mannered Damon to Super Uncle Dame. Ever since he was a little baby, much younger than Reema would have probably approved of, I would hoist him into my arms and fly him all around the room. Since he was already in my arms, it just took a quick shift in my hold in order to send him flying. I made all sorts of sound effects with my mouth as we “flew” from the foyer to Dorian’s den. DJ’s delighted giggles bounced off the walls as I simulated turbulence, rocking and shaking him at random junctures as we maneuvered. Making our way into Dorian’s den, we crash-landed in a heap on the small sofa next to Dor’s recliner.
“You just can’t come in here like somebody regular, huh? Always gotta cause a ruckus,” Dorian laughed.
“You know it,” I said, “Sup bruh? What Mike and Jemele talmbout today?”
“Actually, they ain’t even on today. I swear they the most vacation taking TV personalities on ESPN. And this dude covering for them is boring as hell, so I can’t even pay too much attention to what’s going on because I’m damn near nodding off. What’s good with you though? How’s the bakery?”
“It’s going well. Actually…really well. I got a call from the features editor of the Trib a few days ago. They want to do a profile of me and the patisserie. From a ‘hometown boy comes back to do good’ sort of angle. I don’t know how I feel about it though.”
“Are you serious, bro? It’s an amazing opportunity. What’s holding you back?”
“Honestly? I don’t know if we could handle what would surely be an increase in foot traffic after a major feature like that. We’re rocking and rolling now, but there’s still some hiccups every now and again. Tyrel has been a godsend, but that Jami…I don’t know if she’s gonna last much longer, bruh…”
“Damn, that bad?”
“Worse. Last Tuesday Ty was running late and asked her to open for him. Well let’s just say it’s a good thing that I live right above the damn shop because old ass Mrs. Johnson was telling everybody that walked past that she didn’t think this shop was gonna last because we opened at the anointed and not appointed time.”
“Yoooo, she still got her lil seamstress shop over there? She gotta be at least a hundred, man. I know she ain’t still sewing.”
“Man, she ain’t doing shit, but sitting out there in her rocking chair and playing Benita Butrell to the whole damn neighborhood.”
Dorian fell out laughing. “Wait though…where was…what did you say her name was, Janine?”
“Jami. And that’s a great question. She came strolling in at about 9:55 like nothing was wrong. I asked her about opening that morning and she claimed that Ty had never discussed it with her. Never mind the fact that I was standing right there when they made the agreement. She’s a nice kid, but she isn’t really cut out to have such a large responsibility right now. I don’t wanna axe her completely though, so I think I might just reduce her role to be more cashier oriented.”
Dorian just shook his head and chuckled again, “Who knew lil Peanuthead would be out here doing boss shit?”
“Chill with that Peanuthead shit, man.”
“Dadaaaaaaaah, DINNUH!” DJ yelled out.
I don’t even think I’d realized he had left the room while Dorian and I were talking.
“That is the laziest three year old I know. Reema tells the boy to come get me for dinner and this is what happens,” Dorian said, walking toward the dining area.
Dorian and Reema lived in a modestly sized ranch style home that betrayed how long their money actually was. Dorian was a shrewd moneyman, taking some calculated risks in early startup investments that paid major dividends and Reema, before she took time off to stay at home with DJ, was a nurse practitioner. Between the two of them, they were financially set for quite some time. They were actually silent investors in the Sweet Thang, helping me pony up the money to buy the building that housed it flat out instead of having a mortgage. I reluctantly took the money, not wanting to be beholden to any of my siblings for that kind of major purchase. They’d bailed me out too many times before. It was important to me to do this thing on my own.
Dinner at Dorian and Reema’s was never a quick affair. I’d been there for a few hours and we’d put DJ down for bed before enjoying cognac—for Dor and I—and wine, for Reema. I was going into a bit more detail about the patisserie, its earnings, my highs and lows so far when Reema interrupted me.
“Okay, so, you know every time we get together doesn’t have to turn into a shareholders meeting, right, D?” she laughed.
I shook my head, laughing. “I know…I just want y’all to be in the know about everything that’s going on.”
“Bruh, we invested because we trust you. You don’t have to give us a rundown. Just run our quarterly dividends and we’re Gucci,” Dorian chimed in.
“Besides,” Reema started, with a sneaky gleam in her eye, “We have more pressing issues to discuss. I mean…DJ needs a little god brother or god sister. So why won’t you let me hook you up just one more time?”
“Have we forgotten the last time you tried to hook me up, Ree? I’m good.”
“But—“ she started before getting cut off by Dorian.
“Baby, he’s got a point. That girl was…crazy…deranged. Your quality control aspect of this whole Chuckisha Woolery thing you tryna pull is lacking.”
“In my defense…she always seemed perfectly normal whenever I went in for my manicures!”
“And you talked to her for what…all of two minutes? For her to let you know that your nail tech was either ready or running a little behind? C’mon, Ree.”
About six or seven months ago, Reema tried hooking me up with the girl who was the receptionist at some swanky ass nail salon she went to…Regina. Regina was bad as fuck physically—cocoa brown skin, thick frame, short boy cut. On the mental tip…let’s just say homegirl was a few steps behind in the Cha Cha Slide. My first tip off of something not being all together with her was when we met for a quick coffee and she spent the time she shoulda been spending getting to know me telling me about her cousin’s baby daddy issues. She was going into intimate details about these people, their custody agreement, sex lives, and all sorts of information that a perfect stranger should not have known about them. She claimed she was sharing under the guise of making sure she had better judgment than her cousin regarding “who she let skeet in her all willy nilly”—her words, not mine.
Despite that…odd start, I did attempt a second date with her. I say attempt because every time we tried to schedule, something came up suddenly and she had to reschedule. We did that song and dance about four times before I gave up the ghost. I don’t know what was wrong with the girl and didn’t have the energy to even try to figure it out. I’d done my time with my fair share of crazy in my early twenties and was looking now…at damn near thirty to settle down.
“And actually, I already have a date coming up. So let me see where things go with her before you even start scheming and throwing women at me again,” I told Reema.
“A date? With who? What’s her name? Do I know her? Where you meet her? When are you going out? What does she look like?”
“Ree…chill with the twenty questions. For a minute I thought you were going to ask me if she was bigger than a breadbox.”
“D, you know I always gotta look out for baby bro. I just wanna see you done hoeing around and settled with a nice girl. I can’t have a vested interest in your happiness?”
“You absolutely can, sis. Just not on your terms. Damn…let me cook,” I replied, laughing.
Reema pouted for half a second before bursting into laughter.
“Fine. I guess you can find the love of your own damn life! But for real you’re not gonna tell me anything about her? At all?”
I looked a Dorian and he held up his hand.
“I don’t know why you looking at me. You know I can’t corral her ass. You’re going to have to give her something.”
“Fine…I met her at the soft launch, Ree.”
“But that was only for family and press. Wait a minute, please don’t tell me you’re tryna fuck your way into a good review in a newspaper or magazine.”
“Ree!” I exclaimed, laughing, “Really? This is how little you think of me? I am shocked and appalled. I am wounded.”
“Well it’s not like I don’t have precedent…”
“You always bringing up old shit, Reema. But no…she wasn’t a member of the press,” I started, feeling a grin overtake my face, “She was just…a lost neighbor who thought we were open for real and wandered in.”
“Is that shorty Danny and Nico were telling me you pulled the Derica mack voice out on?”
“I hate all of y’all niggas! That’s my damn voice.”
“Suuuure it is, Billy Dee.”
“Shut up, man. But yes, she and I…uh…ran into each other again and made plans to link up. Doing drinks at Imbibe tomorrow.”
Reema clapped her hands excitedly.
“You know Dor and I could…”
“NO!” Dorian and I said at the same time.
“Y’all don’t even know what I was about to say?”
“You were about to suggest getting a sitter and crashing my brother’s date and that’s where I will definitely draw the line, babe. No way in hell.”
I reached out my hand to dap up Dorian, grateful that he squashed that shit immediately. He let Reema get away with a lot of line crossing shit, but I was glad to see that he knew that this went way too far in her overstepping bounds. On that note, I decided to pack a to-go plate and get outta there. I was already playing games with having a few drinks knowing damn well I had to get up at three to begin baking and prep for tomorrow. I was working the early shift, with Ty coming in for the evening since I’d be out with Patricia.
***
I sat at a table for two and flicked my wrist up once again to check the time. Yep, definitely seven twenty and Patricia was nowhere in sight. I debated sending her a text after waiting for fifteen minutes, but assumed that if she was running late she’d at least give the common courtesy of a quick “hey, running late” text. I picked up my phone to shoot off a text to her when she suddenly rushed in the door. She looked a bit frazzled as her eyes scanned the area looking for me. Where I sat was kind of tucked off into a corner and not easily visible from the front of Imbibe at first glance, so I stood and lifted my arm to wave her over. That caught her eye and she quickly maneuvered back to where I was sitting.
“Oh my god I am so sorry, Damon. I feel bad because a…I’m normally not late for anything. I’m actually ridiculously punctual to the point of compulsion and two…I was so thrown off my game that I didn’t even hit you to let you know I was running behind. I would not have held it against you if you’d left by now,” she said, all in one breath, finishing with a sheepish grin.
The sight of the twin etchings in her cheeks allayed any irritation I’d been feeling before she walked through the door. I had always been a sucker for a woman with dimples.
“You’re all good, gorgeous. Sit down…what you drinkin? You look like you can use whatever it is ASAP.”
“You have no idea,” she replied, “I need a glass of Ganarcha like nobody’s business.”
Imbibe had a serve yourself wine bar, with rotating selections of red and white wines. All you had to do was grab a glass, swipe a prepaid card, and select a pour size that ranged from an itty-bitty (four ounces) and to the big mammajamma (twelve ounces). I quickly glanced at what was on tap currently to see if they had the blend she’d just named and luckily there was one on tap.
I stood again and said, “You take a minute…a breather and I’ll be right back with a large pour of Ganarcha.”
“I got it like that? Already…” Patricia said, biting on her lower lip.
“As long as I can make it happen, you absolutely got it like that, sweetheart.”
“Oooh, I’m scareda you, Bakerman.”
I chuckled and walked away to retrieve her glass of wine. As soon as I got back to the table, Patricia apologized for running late again.
“You’re good,” I reassured her, “You’re here now, we’ve got wine and our good health, so here’s to that.”
I raised my glass in toast and she lightly clinked her glass against mine, smiling a little.
“So…tell me about you. How’d you learn to make sinfully delicious baked goods?” Patricia asked, resting her chin in her palm as she leaned in a bit.
“Believe it or not, my love of baking came from a punishment. Growing up with three older brothers, I stayed getting into shit that I had no business getting into. One day I took it a little too far and as a result, had to sit up under my mama in the kitchen all day one Sunday while she prepared dinner for the family. At first it was torture, but when it came time for making dessert, something in me kinda…well, snapped, really. I was super interested in the process of making the cake from scratch.
Something about the precision necessary to ensure that the ingredients are combined in certain ways to produce the best results spoke to me. So whenever Mama was baking, I’d find myself in the kitchen somehow, observing. That led to me eventually asking her to teach me her secrets; which she adamantly refused, but she definitely taught me the basics. Then I went full nerd and researched all sorts of aspects of baking from processes to recipes. After a while, dessert became my responsibility for big family dinners, much to the chagrin of my dad and big brothers. They weren’t pleased at first. Many of my early efforts were barely edible. But I got better and more adventurous as the years rolled on.”
I stopped talking because I could certainly ramble about my story and love for baking for way too long. It didn’t take much to get me going after someone asked me to tell them about my passions.
“Ok…so the story can’t stop there. How’d you get from Mama’s kitchen to Sweet Thang?”
“The condensed version? A stint in financial advising, eighteen months in France, a few screw ups, and a move back home to get centered. Enough about me, though…tell me about you?”
“You’ll have to tell me the more in depth version at another time,” she said, “There’s not much to me. I certainly don’t have an exciting backstory like yours. No international travel or heartstring pulling origin story.”
“You got jokes, huh? Quit stalling. I wanna know all about Patricia…what’s your middle name?”
At that question her head turned slightly and brow furrowed in confusion.
“Really?”
“I figured we’d start simple and work up to the deeper stuff.”
She laughed, shaking her head, “It’s Cherice. Patricia Cherice Payne. Clearly my parents were not thinking about monogrammed items when they gave me the initials PCP.”
I barked out a laugh. A little too loudly, if the glare the lady at the table next to us sent in my direction was any indication. Our conversation continued with Patricia telling me about her sister, son, and best friend, Raquel. I could tell that her world centered on these three and everything else came in second. We talked our way through a mammajamma and itty-bitty before making moves to leave Imbibe. It was getting late and the ambiance of the bar was changing over from the laid back, vibey, daytime aura to the music heavy, loungey scene. As we made our way to the door, Patricia stopped suddenly and turned to me.
“Ooooooh, this is my song! Let’s dance,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me back to the makeshift dance floor at the back of the space.
The song wasn’t one I easily recognized or quite frankly had ever heard before. It was mid-tempo with a sultry voiced singer kind of lazily singing the lyrics. Patricia instantly moved in, draping her arms over my shoulders and finding the groove. I moved with her, feeling like we were at a high school dance with our semi-awkward respectably spaced two stepping from side to side. I finally said fuck it and pulled her closer, our hips melding as my hands moved from the appropriate position above her waist to resting on the curve of her thigh. The change in position made Patricia look up at me while she was singing along to the words of the song.
“I ain't gon' say it again, time to turn what you been asking into actions…” Patricia sang as we slowly ground into one another.
That song transitioned to another and we kept on moving through about three songs before calling it quits for real this time. I wasn’t quite ready for the night to end, but didn’t want to mess up the groove we had going so far by being a creep and asking her back to my place. We’d barely walked away from Imbibe when Patricia indicated that we’d reached her car.
“You lucked up with a prime spot. When I got here, there was nothing, I had to park around the corner on Overland,” I said.
“I…ah…yeah as I was pulling up, someone was pulling out. Good fortune,” she replied, looking away briefly as she searched her bag for her keys.
“So this was fun. I don’t wanna keep you out too long, I know you have a sitter and it is a school night and everything.”
“I enjoyed myself, Damon.”
Drawing her into me for a hug, I responded, “Good. Shoot me a text and let me know when you make it home safe?” I pressed a quick kiss to her temple before releasing her from my hold.
Before we were completely separated, she tugged my hand, a clear question in her eyes. I leaned in halfway, making sure I was reading the vibe right. She nodded and smiled as I leaned in closer to give her a real kiss. Our mouths fused in a light touch initially, a tentative brush of the lips before I deepened the kiss. I hadn’t planned to get too carried away, but the moment I felt those soft lips against mine, there was no turning back. I ran my tongue along the seam of her lips, requesting entry to which she quickly acquiesced opening immediately and inviting me in to play. I could have kept kissing her all night…would have kept it up all night probably if some loudmouth hadn’t yelled at us to get a room.
I pulled back, smirking. “You almost made me forget where I was at? Let’s get you in this car before you get me into trouble.”
Patricia pointed a finger at me, “You’re the one. I was not expecting…all of that.”
“But you enjoyed it?”
She smiled and nodded emphatically, “Hell yes I did. Immensely.”
“Good,” I responded.
I walked her to the driver side door, opening it and watching her settle in before I closed it behind her. She rolled down the window immediately.
“Hey...” she hesitated briefly, “…thanks for a good night.”
“Thanks for the even better company,” I replied before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to her lips once again. I couldn’t resist. “Don’t forget to let me know when you’ve made it home.” Then I turned and walked away to my car quickly before I offered to follow her home and directly into her bed to make sure she was safe on all counts.
I’d barely sat in my car before my phone rang. To my surprise it was Patricia. I answered quickly.
“Hey…is that taste test invitation still good?”
***
Despite being the one who initiated coming over to my place, Patricia seemed to be a bit…skittish. Currently we were sitting in my living room staring at one another. I could tell she was nervous because since she’d arrived she been chattering nonstop about inconsequential things.
“You know what, I’m going to give you an out here.” I said suddenly, interrupting whatever she was prattling on about now. I wanted to put her at ease and not make her feel like she was…obligated to be here because of how we’d come to make these plans.
“An out?” she asked.
“Well…actually, more of like…a rain check. I can tell you’re a little…” I trailed off, making sure to take care with my words so I didn’t talk myself outta anything happening with us, ever, “uneasy right now, so if you’re not down for…sampling tonight, we can get together at another time.”
“So can I keep it real with you?” Patricia said.
“Always. Please. I welcome it.”
“So…I’ve never done…this. The whole two strangers meet, hook up at random thing.”
“Okay…”
“Wait. Let me explain. Obviously you know I’m not a virgin. Far from it, actually. You’ve met my boy,” she laughed, “But every…man I’ve been with in that way has literally played another role in my life in some capacity before we took it to an intimate level. So I’ve never really dated in the traditional sense. Although I guess joining a site for one night stand hookups isn’t actually dating, but you know what I mean. Anyway…so as you can tell…I’m a bit nervous. But. I don’t want to not do this. Because I want you. And I need this.”
“So…joining JON was outside the box for you?”
“Way beyond the box. But this just feels right. So…us…tonight? It’s happening. Nerves be damned,” she said with a little laugh.
I nodded, now understanding her hesitance a little better.
“So come here then,” I said, reaching a hand across the sofa in her direction.
She slid closer and I placed my hand behind her neck, bringing her face closer to mine to kiss her. As I lowered my head, lips nearly touching, I asked, “Do you trust me to take care of you?”
On a sharp intake of breath, Patricia licked her lips before nodding once. I closed the miniscule amount of space between us and placed a series of soft kisses to her lips. Each kiss I lingered a bit longer, pulling back more slowly each time…eliciting a groan from Patricia. She soon grew tired of my teasing and grabbed both sides of my face pulling me into a kiss that resembled our earlier good night parting kiss from earlier in the night. As our tongues dipped and swirled around each other, she moved closer, settling atop me.
With the change in position, I explored her curves moving my hands from up around her shoulders to settle firmly upon her ass. I gave the twin globes a squeeze, as Patricia settled into a circular grinding motion in my lap. I disengaged from her mouth, licking and suckling her neck as her grinding intensified. I shifted, planting my hands beneath her ass, so I could move us to the bedroom. We were definitely not going to end up having sex on my couch and her little moans and mewls had me ready to strip off that little wrap dress she was wearing and go to town. As I stood up with her in my arms to walk us back to the bedroom, Pat let out a little squeal.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she muttered under her breath.
I chuckled as I quickly made my way down the short hallway, placing her none too gently on the bed and hovered above her. A few beats passed of us just staring at each other before I motioned to the ties holding her dress together.
“May I?”
“If you don’t I’m gonna whip this damn thing off like Clark Kent in a quick change booth.”
I laughed, shaking my head my head at her ridiculous analogy before tugging once and unraveling the ties that held her dress together. I pulled the two sides apart to get up close and personal with the curves my hands had roamed all evening. She lifted up slightly so I could remove the dress completely, leaving her sprawled across the bed clad in black lace. I made no moves to resume what we’d started in the living room, just stared at the playground in front of me, trying to decide where I’d begin. Patricia made the decision for me as she pulled me on top of her and drew me into an excruciatingly slow, almost drugging kiss. She took her time, as if she were savoring the moment and me. Her hands were busy, unbuttoning the shirt I wore and removing it in a quicker fashion than her lazy kisses belied. I shrugged out of the shirt as she moved onto my belt, unbolting it then unbuckling and unzipping my pants.
I pulled back to place a series a kisses along her collarbone, licking and sucking a path to the swells of her breasts. Removing her bra, I palmed her breasts, using my thumbs to bring her nipples to attention with quick, glancing swipes around her areola. I moved a bit lower, taking her right nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip as I teased and pulled at it gently with my teeth. I gave the other breast attention as well, gripping it and pinching the nipple between two fingers as she squirmed, emitting a soft moan. I went back and forth between her breasts, licking, sucking, and nibbling all over them, from the top to bottom, before moving further south.
Kissing my way down her body, I noticed her belly button was an outie. I placed a gentle kiss on it, swiping my tongue across it once before continuing my descent. When I reached her panty line, I looked up to see her face. She had her eyes closed, biting down on her lower lip as if she was trying to hold back.
“Hey,” I said, causing her eyelids to flutter before she cut her eyes in my direction.
“Don’t hold back on me. I want to hear you. If it feels good, let me know. If it doesn’t, tell me what you like.”
She swallowed, and then nodded. That damned lip still caught between her teeth. I reached up and pulled it free before continuing back to her sweet spot. I made quick work of her underwear and spread her knees apart before settling in between her legs. Using my thumbs, I spread her open, taking in her pretty ass pussy. She was glistening and damn near had me salivating as I lowered my head to move my flattened tongue in a long swipe against her. She tasted so fucking good, just like I knew she would. I swiped my tongue against her again, using the tip of my tongue to work her pearl. That move made her shift slightly, sitting up and grabbing my shoulders. I settled in, working my mouth over her delectable flesh—licking, sucking and slurping my way to delight.
I pushed her legs higher, face planting into her pussy as her juices flowed. I lapped them all up, not wanting to miss a drop. I could tell that she was close to cumming as she tapped my head, trying to get me to ease up, but that just made me even more ravenous. I used my tongue to fuck her, darting in and out of her slit, as I felt her thighs began to quiver around my ears.
“Shiiiiiiiiit, Damon,” she moaned, still trying to move away.
I locked my arms around her thighs, holding her in place as my tongue traveled in long, unhurried strokes over the entirety of her pussy. I closed my lips around her clit, flickering my tongue and sucking it as she screamed, letting herself fall into the orgasm she had been trying to hold off.
While she recovered I quickly finished undressing and grabbed protection, placing the condom on the bedside table before lying beside Patricia. I softly touched her face, cupping her chin, and bringing her mouth to mine once again. While we kissed, her hands were on the move, running down my chest and abdominal area before moving lower to cup my dick. As soon as her soft fingers wrapped around my shaft, she slowly moved her hand up and down—her movements in direct opposition to the torrid action of our tongues.
“I need to feel you inside of me…now,” she whispered, using her other hand to gently squeeze my balls as she continued to stroke me to hardness.
My mama and daddy didn’t raise no fool, so those softly spoken were all it took for me to pull back, quickly sheathing myself in a condom, and sliding into her welcoming warmth. She was so slippery that I eased in with no problem, groaning at how tight she clenched around me. My movements were slow at first, doling out strokes at a pace that would allow me to maintain some semblance of control until Patricia locked her legs around me, whispering in my ear, “Faster. Harder.” Her wish was my command as I sped up the tempo of my strokes, guided by her vocal acrobatics as I pounded into her.
“You feel so goddamn good,” I muttered into her ear, catching her lobe between my teeth before slowing my strokes into a slow, circular grind, “Is this…good for you?”
“Yessssss,” she hissed, that quickening in her thighs returning, letting me know that she was on the precipice of once again cumming.
I slowed even more, pulling almost all the way out of her, then plunging deep, with her knees draped over my elbows. Suddenly, Patricia arched into me, back coming up off the bed as she cried out, sounding like an old school Mariah Carey note that faded into a satisfied moan. I kept stroking her though the orgasm, eventually succumbing to my own pleasure as I sank into her one final time before growling through my release.