More nasty ass Erik !!!!!!!!!!! + adding two other requests for Erik giving reader anal and it’s painful/Reader choking Erik back for the first time and he moans.
I might as well make this a series because I’m in part four of this shit. Here is more of Erik freak ass and Y/N giving her pussy up. Multiple times.
**RE UPLOAD**
Y/N and Erik took their fucking and sucking to her dorm room whenever Brandy was away with Erik’s friend. She complained to him about how small her bed was for them to fuck and sleep on but Erik didn’t care. They were both on their way back from grabbing a quick meal through a drive-thru. Still slurping up his lemonade, Erik stood behind Y/N with her book bag slung over his shoulder and his eyes staring at her ass. She had on these high waisted jeans with a butt rip under her right ass cheek. Those fucking jeans hugged so tight they looked painted on. Looking like a goddamn canvas.
“Lil mama, if you don’t open this fucking door up.” He could not look away from her ass. Then she had the nerve to wear one of those tiny ass shirts again. The front read Trap and Sex in hot pink lettering and the rest of the shirt was colored white.
“Daddy, my keys are twisted in my earphones,” she was struggling with the iPhone earphones tangled in the chains and key links of her unnecessarily heavy keys.
“You want me to get you some AirPods?”
Y/N beamed up at Erik with her pretty white smile, “You would actually do that for me?”
“Yes,” Erik grabs her keys, “Which one?”
“The silver one with the orange sticker on it,” she pointed at it with her long coffin-shaped gel acrylic nails painted this pretty salmon pink color. Each key for every dorm had a designated sticker. Her dorm complex all had orange stickers. While Erik fumbles with the door, Y/N takes his cup to drink the rest of his lemonade. She only got one suck in before it was all gone. Kissing her teeth, she pulled the top off and started eating his ice. Her glossy lips smacked and her teeth crunched as she chewed.
Erik held the door open for Lil Mama while she easily walked in from under his outstretched arm. She was 5’ 5 so it was a breeze. Her door clicked shut softly and now they were inside of her warm dorm room. Erik sat Y/N’s book bag down on the small black suede couch bed before kicking off his Nike VaporMax Plus with a black, white, and grey colorway. Y/N tried to clean up the living room a bit but Erik was already used to seeing Y/N and Brandy’s mess. Wigs with mannequin heads, Sephora make up bags, unopened packages, heels, textbooks, and an assortment of PS4 video games.
“Y’all some fucking slobs,” Erik unzipped his black Nike Therma training vest revealing a white Henley long sleeve top underneath that bunched around his biceps and pectorals.
“This space is so small our storage bins can’t hold everything, Erik,” Y/N grabbed the freshly washed wigs and mannequins to place in a corner behind a stack of storage bins to make space.
“All this time you’ve been staying here and you didn’t get a dresser?”
“I have one,” she said while smoothing down a pink wig in her hand, “it’s too damn full.”
“So, you basically brought your whole bedroom to campus?” He chuckles, “you’re silly, ma.”
“Leave me alone,” she pouted like a baby.
Erik mocked her pout making his eyes soft and blinking his long lashes. She giggled at him before turning around to put the wig away.
“Brandy not coming back tonight, right?” Erik pulls out a blunt that he had rolled nice and tight for tonight.
“Nah, she’s with your friend, remember?”
Erik puffed out smoke, “So that means I can be in that pussy all over this dorm room?”
“Yes.” She answered without hesitation. This was her Daddy. He could fuck her anywhere. If that nigga said to drop to your knees in public she would drop to her knees. If he told her to give that pussy up she would bend over in half for him and not think twice about the people around them. She’s been craving his big dick all day during classes. He had her so wet and sticky that she had to make a stop in the women’s bathroom during her free period to rub her clit into a squirting orgasm. She wished he could have seen the mess she made on that floor. Y/N always squirted when she had her clit rubbed or sucked on.
“Yes what, Lil Mama?”
“Yes, Big Daddy.” She spoke with the sweetest voice. It almost made Erik’s tooth hurt with how sweet and angelic she sounded.
“You’re such a good girl for me all the time. So submissive for Daddy, ain’t that right, Lil Mama?”
“Mhm, yes.” Y/N was obsessed with the dick and all of Erik honestly. He didn’t even have to fuck her to have her hooked. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if her Daddy left her.
“Girl,” He shook his head before resting it back against the couch, blowing his smoke into the air, “I’m about to punish that pussy…I’m dead fucking serious.”
Y/N closed her eyes in bliss while nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Keep biting on that lip ima bite it myself.” Oh, she needed a reminder. Erik already had her ass in the car.
Erik tongued Y/N’s mouth down in that drive-thru making the people behind them honk their horns and yell. He was practically sucking and fucking her face. She was squirming in that seat with her legs up and hands gripping the seat belt. His tongue was so damn good in her mouth. Her head fell lazily back and off to the side like she was fainting from the way he kissed her. Erik then grabbed her neck to hold her still before removing his tongue from her throat, a long trail of spit connecting with hers. She had to reward him with her hand in his sweats using her thumb to stroke the tip of his dick.
“Think I’m playing, Y/N, I will tear your little ass up in here.”
Y/N’s lip slowly released from between her teeth. It was swollen and blushed from how much she chewed on the pouty flesh. She rubbed her glossy lips together before giving Erik an innocent smile.
“I was just saying how much of a good girl you are but you must want daddy to punish you, huh?”
His head fell back against the couch again, Erik widening his legs to invite her over to him. He had those sexy deep brown eyes on her and his full bottom lip between his teeth.
“C’mere,” He said with a suppressed voice. Erik took both of his thumbs to pull back the waistband of his sweats and briefs. Erik’s groomed pubic hair was revealed to her lustful eyes and with one thrust of his hips, both pieces of fabric came down and rested under his muscular ass while his moisturized, lengthy, girthy, and magnificent black dick popped out and swung up and down like a pendulum. He jerked his hips and made his dick jump. Y/N loves it when he makes his dick jump. Lifting up the sleeves to his Henley, Erik takes his left hand to grab the base of his dick. She could hear the skin move up and down and she could see the veins of his shaft rolling each time his wrist covered with a Piaget watch twisted expertly to give himself the perfect stroke.
“C’mere.” He scrunched his face while biting the corner of his bottom lip, “you know what Daddy likes. Come suck me, Lil Mama.”
Y/N got down on her hands and knees and crawled to Erik. Once there, she squeezed herself between his legs and the coffee table in the dorm room. Now that she was on her knees between his legs, Y/N picked Erik’s dick up with her small hand, giving it a nice squeeze. Erik’s eyes rolled shut and his bottom lip poked out showing Y/N his gold canines. Using her slender pink tongue, Y/N licked from Erik’s delicious sack, the smooth base of his dick, up his length, and to that pre-cum oozing tip.
“Ooo,” she moaned before making a hissing sound with her teeth. She squeezed her Daddy’s big dick again and more of that syrupy goodness seeped out. That same pink tongue licked around the head of his thickness before her soft and unyielding lips cloaked him.
“Damn, Lil Mama. You can suck some dick, girl. Look at your little freaky ass. Suck this Daddy dick, cutie pie.”
Y/N inhaled Erik’s dick with no hands.
“Oh, shit,” Erik chuckles, “look at that pretty mouth on you.”
With her round eyes on him, Y/N made her jaws extra tight, breathing through her nose, and pulling all of him into her mouth. Erik’s hand came up to grab her puff, using the curly strands to pull her mouth off his dick. Erik stuck his tongue out at her, flicking it. Y/N leans forward, Erik’s hand around her neck, bringing her in to flick his tongue with hers. After a rather nasty tongue thrash that had Y/N’s lip dripping with Erik’s spit, he playfully slaps her face causing her to gasp.
“Throat deeper than a motherfucker,” He places two of his fingers into her mouth, “You can fit all of Daddy’s big dick in that nasty mouth.”
Y/N gags around Erik’s fingers. He takes them out slowly, rubbing it down the length of her tongue then over her bottom lip.
“Shit, look at what you got my dick doing.”
Each time his dick bobbled up and down his balls would jump. Still covered with spit and still just as rock hard as before. Erik and Y/N glanced at each other before turning their attention back to his beautiful cum stick. Reaching his left hand up, Erik takes his pointer finger to circle his slit mixing the pre-cum with Y/N’s saliva. He lifted that finger and she could see a slimy string of pre-cum. Her tongue rolled out of her mouth. She let it stick out as far as it could go. Erik made her suck on his finger then with a forceful hand he grabs the back of her neck bringing her lips to his dick again for her to suck.
“Yeah, Lil Freak,” Erik widened his legs more, “Make Daddy cum…shit…why you sucking me like that? LOOK AT ME…why are you sucking my dick like that?” He playfully slaps her again, “why?”
“Because I want Daddy to cum for me.”
“That’s right. Good girl. Make Daddy’s big dick cum. Show me you worked so hard for that shit.”
“Like this,” she slurped him up causing Erik’s lips to part and his hands coming up to cover his eyes.
“Just like that,” he lifts his shirt up so she could have a view of his defined body that he worked so hard to achieve, “girl, you got my nuts in your mouth. Daddy ain’t even have to ask you. That’s what I’m talking about.”
He never had to ask her to suck him off because she loved that shit. His dick was so damn good in her mouth. She was moaning around a mouth full of dick.
“Damn, I’m keeping you…best believe I’m keeping you, Lil Mama.”
Yes, Daddy-“ she sucked.
“Daddy turned you out?” He gave her a coy smirk.
“Uh-Huh, Daddy-“ she sucked.
“Hmph- oh my God, girl-Ah-sh-shittttttt,” she felt his thick cum hit the back of her throat, “shitttt…shitttttt,” she kept her lips sealed around his dick, still sucking just as hard. Y/N was cum hungry, “oh yeah? Oh yeah? Keep sucking my shit keep-fuckkkkkkk,” Erik has more for her. Y/N graciously took it and slurped it down with no problem, “FUCK YES.”
Finally finished drinking his cum, Y/N slowly pulled her lips off but not before French kissing his thick head. The leering expression on his face and the way he shook his head made Y/N want to suck his dick again just because of his reaction.”
“Turn around and bend over for Daddy to see.”
Y/N got up, bending over the coffee table to show how her tight jeans stretched out over her ass and that rip under her right ass cheek separating even more. She looked back at him with a pout of her lips and blinking patient eyes. She started rolling her hips for him in slow motion. Erik reaches out and pops her ass so intensely that Y/N yelps. Erik takes his fingers, pulling on that rip and distressing her jeans even more. Now she has a big ass hole there with some of the jean material hanging.
“Daddy-“
“Girl, I don’t give a fuck about these jeans. Take all this shit off now.”
Y/N stands up, undoing her jeans and pulling them down. She bends over to get her feet out and now Erik could see her bright yellow thong.
“You so damn thick, Lil Mama, damn,” He smacks both her ass cheeks, “Daddy love all this,” Erik squeezes her ass, then both his hands came out to jiggle her prominent flesh, “Put my face in this ass and eat it the fuck up, ma.”
She felt heat prickle her skin.
“Yes, eat this ass and phat pussy, Daddy,” She encouraged him, “here,” she spread her cheeks showing him exactly what he wanted to see, “this ass and phat pussy, yeah?”
“All that ass and phat fucking pussy, bitch,” He rubs her asshole with his finger, “You hella tight back here…can’t even fit my fucking finger in.”
“This a virgin ass, Daddy. Ain’t no dick been in there,” she laughs. Y/N used small butt plugs before but that was it. She never thought about trying anal for herself because she was too chicken to do it but now, she could try it out for her Daddy.
“No dick been in here?” Erik asks with a low tone.
“Nope, none, Daddy.”
“So what does that mean for me?” He was rubbing her pussy lips now, squeezing them, and spreading them.
“You can take my ass if you want.”
“You sure?” Now he was thumbing her labia, “I got a big dick on me, Ma, it’s too much to handle.”
“I’ll be a good girl…” he was teasing her clit now.
“Be a good girl and give this ass up? If you say yes that means I get to take that ass and you can’t stop me. Once I’m in there I’m gon’ beat that tight ass up.”
Y/N knew how long and girthy Erik was but she wanted to try his big dick in her ass. Y/N wanted to see if she could handle him.
“I promise I’ll let you beat it up just like this pussy.”
“Oh…you getting it tonight, fuck that.”
Erik stood up, grabbing Y/N and throwing her over his shoulder so he could play with her ass cheeks. They walked into her shared dorm room that was just as messy as her mini living room. He was gonna make her clean up but first, he needed his dick wet. He tossed her down to her bed, pulling her Trap and Sex shirt off and then her bra.
“Trap and Sex?” He sucked on her nipples, “That means you like fucking to trap music, Lil Mama? Pop that pussy and twerk that big ass on the dick? Fuck this pink puss to the beat?”
“Mmmm, baybee,” Erik motorboated her breasts causing her to giggle. She opens her legs for him so he could play all in her wet pussy and suck her titties at the same time.
“Got the pussy all open and shit,” Erik didn’t waste no time taking his three fingers, curling them, and fucking her pussy all the way down to the base of his fingers. She gushed and slushed all over him. It was so easy for him to slide his fingers in and out. He was still sucking her nipples and biting them. Y/N used all the strength in her thighs to keep them spread open and raised up while she sat on the edge of the bed.
“I see you, pretty girl, I see you opening them legs to give Daddy more of that phat pussy.”
Her head fell back and her left hand came down to rub circles on her clit. She was creaming all the way down to her asshole. Bed sheets stained too.
“Got all this phat puss and ass. This shit is mine. Daddy only fucking you. You better not give this pussy to none of them little niggas or I’m punishing you. You hear me?”
“Yes! Oh, God, Erik-“
“Come correct, ma, it’s Daddy.”
Her puffy inner folds and clit were so warm and swollen from how fast she rubbed.
“Move your fucking hands. Keeping that juicy clit away from me. You tryna be stingy?”
“N-no,” she opened her pussy lips, “here you go, Daddy. It’s all yours…mmm…it’s all yours.”
“All this pink sweet pussy?” Erik stuck his tongue way out and thrashed it under the hood of her clit all over that shit. He got every single inch of her and now she was leaking for him. He always had her cumming fast with that mouth of his.
“Daddy, my clit is so hard…” She looked at him with defeated eyes.
“I know, that’s why I’m about to suck on it for you. Got my dick down here hurting for some of this good puss.” Erik wraps his lips around her clit and labia with those pussy riding lips he got. He was making her precious pussy cum. Her Daddy always gave her good licks and sucks.
“This pussy talking to me, Lil Mama, she wants me to put this dick in,” Erik stood up, pulling his sweats and briefs off uncaring about his shirt, “I’m fucking you just like this.”
His mouth-watering dick bounced as he positioned himself over her. He was so rough with the way he pulled her legs apart and back to her ears. Erik gripped the bottom of her bare feet firmly while using the power of his hips to drill into her pussy. That phat puss was happy to be taking some of him again. Every time felt like the first time with Erik. She was outrageously wet. His mature and violent strokes inside her once innocent pussy has Y/N talking in tongues.
“You like giving this pussy up to Daddy.”
“Yes!” She grabs Erik’s chain around his neck.
“You tryna choke Daddy out?” He spoke in a harsh tone that had her shivering.
“Mhm,” she tightened the chain causing it to cut into his skin, “choke Daddy back just like I fuck Daddy back.”
She could see his skin bruising from how tight she had his chain around his neck. Erik slowed down his strokes, his eyes hard and nostrils flared. Y/N let his chain go and used her own hand to grab his neck. She pulled Erik down to her mouth where she tongued his lips and sucked on them. He swiveled his hips inside of her and just allowed her wetness to hug him while they kissed. He was moaning in her mouth. No grunts or groans, straight moans. The tighter she made her hands the more he moaned while they kissed. Erik sounded so damn sexy moaning.
Ahhhh… *hisses* ahhhh… *hisses* ahhhh
He said that over and over with his raspy tone of voice. It was beautiful to hear a man moan and not be afraid to. When she let his neck go he gave her a deep desirable look that had her reaching out for his neck again.
“Ooooohmmm,” he moaned with his eyes on her, “Yeah, Lil Mama, choke me out like that.”
“Daddy I want you to moan for me, please?”
“I gotchu, ma,” Erik sucked on her fingers, “Ima moan while I fuck this pussy.”
“Fuck, yeah, Daddy.” Y/N lifts Erik’s shirt from his body, tossing it on the floor. He stroked her with his head hanging low to watch the way he dicked her down.
“Ain’t gon’ find dick like this again,” Erik watched his balls slap her ass with each stroke and his dick stretching her out, “Got me over here taking this wet wet showing you how a real nigga fuck some pussy.”
“Daddy-“
“You ain’t even gotta tell me, ma, I know this pussy ready to bust all over me. Cum on this daddy dick… you keeping it away from me?” He tilted his head down at her while his dick murdered her slit, “gimmie that shit…mhmm, mhmm…cum-on-this-dick.”
“Shittttttttt, baybeeeee,” She shook under him as she released on his dick. Erik smiles at her while Y/N’s eyes rolled shut. He pulls his dick out for her to see what she’d done. Creamy and dripping wet.
“Lick me up,” He ordered.
Y/N licked him like an ice cream cone, cleaning him all off.
“You got some lube, ma?”
“Yeah,” She got up on wobbly legs, walking over to her dresser. Erik sits down on the edge of the bed to remove his socks before falling back with his hand around his dick, jerking it. In Y/N’s periphery, she could see her Daddy’s balls jump and his hand twist and pull on himself. She moved her ankle socks and panties to the side to reveal a bottle of grape-flavored lube she received in a goodie bag from her other campus friend Morgan’s toy party. They were gonna need the whole bottle with how big his pipe is and how tight her asshole is. She walked back over to him, sitting the lube on the bed and as if compelled, sucked the tip of his dick while he jerked his stiffness.
“Can’t keep this dick out your mouth for nothing,” Erik laughs before grunting deep, “look at you tryna suck me like a straw, Lil nasty ass. I like that shit. C’mon, I’m tryna cum in your ass.”
Y/N’s mouth popped off and Erik stood up from the bed to stand behind her.
“You know how I like it. Face down, ass up.”
Y/N got into position. She felt his dick hit the back of her thigh. All that thick meat was about to enter her ass. She shivered from how nervous she was. Erik got down on his knees while his right hand pumped his dick. He puts his tongue in her ass and the second she felt that snake-like tongue wiggle and that spit drizzle down to her pussy she let out a sharp moan. She couldn’t see his face since he was all between her cheeks but damn she wanted him to see her expression. Her eyes watered and her mouth was wide with pure shock. His wet tongue was stabbing at her asshole. She reached back to hold her cheeks open. Erik mumbled something but he was too busy eating her booty she couldn’t understand a word he said.
He finally resurfaced with a shiny face, “Damn, I could feel that ass clenching around my tongue,” Erik opened her pussy wide, “all my spit just chilling in this creamy shit,” he leaned in to suck her clit slowly before letting go with a pop of his lips, “Y/N…I swear to God, ma…pass a nigga that lube!”
She quickly handed it over to him. Erik popped the cap on it, squeezing out so much of it to slather over his dick. Y/N could smell the grape flavoring of the lube. Erik was drenched in that shit. He takes some from his dick, bringing it to Y/N’s virgin ass to finger her there with it. She was gripping his fingers. Every time his knuckle would enter her she clenched around him.
“You gotta relax, ma,” Erik instructed, “I know you can’t help it but relaxing is the only way I can fuck this ass, you hear me?”
“Yes, sorry,” she breathed evenly to steady herself.
“Good girl. You ready?” Erik stood behind Y/N.
“Please,” That was enough of a response for him. Lil Mama just didn’t know what she was getting herself into with Erik. He fucked ass just like he fucked pussy. Had chicks crying. But the pussy still came so they ended up asking for more. His good girl could take some dick like a champ though. He wanted to see if she could hold her record.
Erik instructed for Y/N to grip the sheets. Erik began to ease his large member into her tight, bubbling ass. Y/N closed her eyes and tightened her fists around the sheets to distract herself when Erik entered her. She couldn’t believe how much pressure and pain she was feeling. Y/N tried to breathe slowly and steadily to calm herself as he penetrated deeper into her ass.
“Oh my God,” Erik slaps her ass, “Baby, this ass is so tight on my dick. You’re pulling on my dick right now.”
Erik eased out and went back into her even further than before. Y/N gasped and inhaled as she felt the pressure from him reentering her.
“Lil Mama, I’m done teasing you I’m ready to fuck this ass, you good?” He was desperate.
“Y-yes,” she spoke with her face in the sheets.
Erik grabbed Y/N by the waist and slammed into her.
Y/N screamed, “Daddy!!!!!” She reaches back to push at his chest, “Daddy, nooooo, Not yet! Slow down!”
Erik wasn’t listening; the feeling had overtaken him and he was in the zone. Erik slammed into her, then out, then bam! Back in. Y/N’s legs were weakening and she could barely keep her back arched to take all of his daddy dick. Every time she would move Erik would fix her arch as he rammed into her.
Erik was enjoying this. Hearing her beg him with a weakened tone and deep throaty moans made his dick even harder.
Erik answered, “This is what you wanted, remember? Shut up and let me slam in this ass real good!” He pulled all the way out to the tip. All that lube was needed because his dick went right back in like it never left. She compressed him tighter than that pussy. Erik’s eyes rolled with pleasure each time she clenched him.
“Daddy,” she spoke with a raw throat, “I wanna take Daddy’s dick, I really do, but it hurts.”
Erik groaned, “I’ll go slow to stretch it and you let me know when I can go faster, aight?”
“Okay,” she looked back at him with her watery eyes, “Daddy you really like my ass. You were fucking it so hard,” she spoke with a whisper.
“Your shit is too tight, Lil Mama,” Erik stares down at his lube covered dick stretching her ass out. She gasps each time he hit her deep with the tip of his dick. He had Lil Mama groaning with his dick all in her ass.
“Daddy fucking this ass real good ain’t he.”
“Yeah,” She was starting to get used to the feeling of being stuffed back there, “It’s starting to feel a little better…”
“So, can Daddy go faster?”
She chewed her lip nervously, “Kay.”
“If you want Daddy to cum in you I’m gonna have to slam a little harder than I am to get it out.”
She melted at his words. Erik was so persuasive.
“I understand, Daddy.”
Erik began to beat her ass up harder and faster. Y/N was reminded of the pain yet again but it was subtle and the pleasure was more pronounced. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to accept the way her ass wrapped around Erik and the pressure she could feel in her lower belly. She could understand why people enjoyed anal but damn you had to be a G to take it like this.
As Y/N began to relax she started pumping back onto Erik. This caused Erik to thrust harder into her tightness surrounding him. He held onto Y/N as he fucked her. She was helping him by pushing back against him and saying, “Daddy you’re so full in my ass, you’re fucking the shit outta me!”
“Hmph! Love my dick throbbing in this ass, yes…just bend over for Daddy.”
“Fuck,” Y/N was being trained well to take his big black dick. She rubbed her wet pussy all over and even stuck three fingers in. She finger fucked her juicy box while Erik beat her ass up like fight night.
“Put that work in for Daddy! Good girls take it deep and hard in the ass!”
“YES!” Her ass stung from how hard she clapped back on him. “Yes! Yes! Oh shit, yeah, baby, work this ass! That’s right, fuck the shit outta me!”
“Open that ass up for me-“
“Like this, Daddy,” she spread her cheeks.
“That’s a good girl, let Daddy fill this ass up.”
Erik pounded away until he could no longer hold it. Erik banged his dick in her ass while his balls slapped her clit. The way his dick throbbed had Y/N gasping for air. He gave her one final hard thrust before his load filled her ass up to the brim. Y/N was worn-out from the ass whipping she had endured. Erik was even out of breath and weak.
His dick slid out causing both of them to moan. She rolled over onto her back gently. She looked up at Erik’s drenched body as he stares down at his still hard dick.
“You good, pretty girl?” Erik walked up to sit on the bed next to her. He turned Y/N over onto her back and rubbed her ass. She gave him a weak smile but as soon he opened her ass cheeks to see her lubed up asshole she let out a whimper. She clenched her cheeks but Erik’s grip on her was so firm she couldn’t fight him.
“I got you good, didn’t I?” His voice got deeper and huskier.
“Yes, Daddy,” Y/N said while looking into his dark eyes. They tended to get darker when he was really horny.
“Daddy…I need a break,” Y/N gave him an innocent look that always worked, “Please, Daddy?”
His jaw clenched but then a smirk appeared in his lips, “Aight, Lil Mama. We can take a shower and then I’ll run you a bubble bath, okay?”
She felt so relieved. If she didn’t plead with him to give her a break Erik would be fucking her ass again. That was a lot to handle. Y/N finally stood up from the bed with wobbly ankles. Erik helped her out by carrying her. Y/N didn’t think she would be able to take more dick tonight but knowing Erik he wouldn’t allow that for too long.
———————-
“Oh, you’re a nasty bitch, Y/N.”
Brandy came home the next day around late afternoon with her overnight bag and a bonnet on her head. The place was clean since Y/N had nothing else to do since Erik left. He had plans that evening to meet up with some friends. Y/N was currently filling her friend in on how much sex she’d been having with Erik.
“How big is he?” Brandy asked while studying for her intro to cybersecurity course.
“I don’t know, maybe 9 or 10 inches. And thick girl, whew.”
“And you can take all that now? Erik changed my girl,” Brandy joked.
“I thank you for introducing us.” If it wasn’t for Brandy Y/N wouldn’t have known Erik.
“Nah, it wasn’t me. Erik has been wanting your ass! He asked about you and I just passed on the word that’s all.”
“I miss him,” she pouts, “I won’t see him until tomorrow night.”
“Girl, give your pussy a break!” Brandy shouted playfully.
“I just love fucking with him, Brandy. He makes my body feel so good.”
“So…is he more than a fuck buddy?” Brandy questions.
“I don’t know about all that right now. We like where we are and I don’t wanna push it too far and fuck up our connection.”
“What else do you know about him?”
“Only the basic stuff like where he is originally from and what he’s going to school for and what his interests are. Just the first base stuff.”
Brandy placed her highlighter in the middle of her textbook, “I’m only asking because I can tell that you like him more than just wanting to hop on the dick. You should talk to him, see if he feels the same way.”
“I will,” Y/N spoke softly, “I just don’t want to scare him away.”
“I doubt that,” Brandy giggles, “He is pussy-whipped.”
Y/N couldn’t disagree. Erik would call and text her phone throughout the day just to get a response from her if he couldn’t see her and if he could see Y/N she was always at his place. He even cleared out a top drawer for her things. If she didn’t answer his calls or texts he would be so damn mad and when they finally meet up her pussy was his for the taking.
Disrespectful, bitch. Don’t you ever ignore me again, you hear me, girl? Got me in here fucking the shit out this phat puss. Say sorry to Daddy, bitch, you owe me.
And then she was right on her knees or opening her legs for him.
A slut for this Daddy dick.
No. He didn’t text or call her since he left. What was he up to? She knew he was busy with school as well but damn, he could have at least sent a quick text with kissy-face and tongue emojis. While Brandy studies, Y/N picked up here phone to text Erik.
-Daddy I miss you 😽
She saw his text bubbles and then his message showed up.
-Daddy miss you too.
-how much?
Erik sent her a photo. It was him smiling in a black beanie with his jeans unzipped and that dick long and thick. He took really good dick pics. She loved the fact that he smiled at her like that. He made her melt. She wanted to melt in his mouth.
-Omg Daddy! come here, please 🤗
-can’t, Lil Mama. I’m about to have some company.
-I wanna cuddle with you and sit on your lap🥺
-that’s all? LOL I know that ain’t the only thing you want. Look at that pic again.
-okay, I want some dick too so? Lol. You fucked me so good last night I want some more 😋
-Can’t tonight, I told your ass that. I gotchu tomorrow, don’t worry. I’ll fuck you from the living room to the bed I promise.
-☹️
-fix your fucking face.
- *sigh* okay.
-good girl. Let me hit you back later I gotta make some moves. Be good, Lil Mama 😚
-I will Daddy, TTYL 🥰
——————-
Later came around and sitting in her dorm watching Hulu was a drag. Brandy was busy doing her classmates’ hair in the living room. She slept on and off and studied the entire day. After showering, Y/N put on a pair of panties and a band tee to get in bed to be even lazier. It was around 9:30 pm when she had just about enough. Not being wrapped around Erik had her going insane. Then, there was the fact that her mind replayed all of their nasty sex. She was sloppy wet. Y/N pulled her covers back, sitting up on her elbows, and spreading her legs to see her pussy. She fingered her folds to gather some of her wetness. Y/N brought her fingers to her mouth, sucked her essence off, and without a care, she started running circles into her clit.
She edged herself in that bed. Each time she was ready to cum, Y/N would stop. This always gave her the best orgasms. Erik’s name spilled from her mouth as her fingers rubbed and rubbed until she was cumming. She felt her sheets dampen under her ass from squirting. Y/N grabs her phone from her pillow, swiping left to pull up her camera. She put her flash on and started recording a video of her wet cum stained pussy. After that, she sent it off to Erik so he could see what he was missing right now
-Fucking really, Y/N?
-😛
-that little creamy pussy is soaked. You sample my pussy after you came Lil Mama?
-it was so tasty 😋
-Now I really gotta tear that ass up. Chilling with my friends and my dick hard.
-fuck me…
-drive over here right fucking now.
She was up out that bed real quick.
———————
Y/N pulled up in her leggings and a crop top and ugg slippers. She made it into Erik’s apartment building rapidly. The minute she knocked on that door one of Erik’s friends answered.
“Damn, shorty? Who you here to see?” He bit his lip at Y/N. She could hear talking in the back.
“Erik.” Y/N spoke softly.
“Okay, sweetie. Yo E!”
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him walk up to the door. She was craving him in all her holes. Her mouth, ass, and pussy were lonely and ready to be filled.
“Hey, E.”
“Who?” Erik asked while his friend watched. Y/N looked over at Erik’s friend then back at him with timid eyes.
“Don’t be shy, Lil Mama. What I say about all that shy shit? Now, what’s my name?”
“Daddy.” She blushed with embarrassment. Erik leaned forward, grabbing the side of Y/N’s neck softly to tongue her down briefly.
“Damn,” Erik’s friend clapped Erik on the back, “that’s my nigga, Erik.”
Both men allowed her to step inside and Y/N was surrounded by nothing but weed smoke and loud trap music. Roddy Ricch was playing from Erik’s beats Pill. There were at least seven guys there plus Erik included. Some smoking and drinking, Erik playing the game since he had a controller in his hand.
“Aye!” Erik yelled over the loud music, “this is Y/N.”
“Hi,” she waved shyly with a smile.”
They all said their hellos. Some lingering on her with interest while the others returned to whatever they were doing.
“Damn, you came by yourself? No friends for us?” The guy in question was rolling up some weed. He was tall and muscular with a full beard.
“Sorry, I just came to see my Daddy,” she placed her hand on Erik’s chest while he leaned down to wrap his arm around her waist. She was so small that he had to bend down to grab her. Some of his friends gave each other looks and she was sure they were going to ask Erik about how good Y/N’s pussy is. Erik has a way of affecting you without doing much except for existing. The evil glint in his eyes was enough to let his friends know that Y/N was his and only his.
“Here TJ,” Erik passes his controller over to whoever TJ was, “I’ll be back, gotta handle something with Lil Mama real quick.”
“Go handle that,” The friend that opened the door joked.
“Nigga shut the fuck up. I don’t need you talking on my behalf I got this.”
Y/N glanced at his friend. He could see the embarrassment on his face. He was a grown-ass man and he allowed Erik to shut him up. His homeboys joked in the background but something told Y/N that all of them knew not to fuck with Erik.
After Erik checked his friend, Erik kept his hand around Y/N’s waist as they walked to the back where his room was. The anticipation to fuck him was killing her. His fingertips stroked her spine at first but as soon as they walked past his doorway Erik seized the back of Y/N’s neck before slamming his door shut. The loud rap music vibrated his bedroom walls. Y/N turned around to look at Erik. Her terror-stricken face didn’t do anything to calm his rage. Erik folded his arms across his chest and widened his stance before he began to speak.
“You sent that video to get back at me or something?”
“No…” she spoke slowly.
“Nah, you had to because I sent you that picture of me holding my dick,” He narrows his eyes at her, “my dick is hard as a motherfucker right now.”
“Lemme see,” she went to grab his crotch but Erik smacked her hand away. Hard.
With an alarming look on her face, she stroked her sore hand. Erik didn’t seem to care about her pain. He was too busy worried about his hard dick.
“You owe me an apology.”
“Why?!” She didn’t understand why he was so damn upset about this.
“Because I told you I was busy-“
“You sent me that pic and I was a horny fucking mess, Erik. I had to make myself cum because of you. Don’t stand there and do that.”
“Y/N,” Erik closed his eyes, “Who the fuck is in charge? If I send you a pic, Lil Mama, I expect you to rub that pussy. Don’t send me shit back to turn me on when I’m with my boys. My dick is hard as fuck, Y/N, you don’t understand what I’m telling you? My-shit-is-hard.”
He grabbed his dick and Y/N wished it was her hand.
“So, I can’t send you nothing back without permission?” She asked with caution.
“Not when I’m around my niggas. My phone was out in the open, baby girl. What if they saw that puss? It’s mine. You got amnesia or something?”
Daddy, no. I didn’t think about that.” She fiddled with her fingers.
“Just shut the fuck up and come suck my dick,” Erik spoke hastily.
Erik started undoing his button and zipper. His jeans and briefs dropped down and around his ankles. His dick was so hard it poked straight out at her. Daddy was right. All that hard dick tucked away in his pants. She could understand his anger. That shit was probably pulsating and thumping like a heartbeat in his jeans. Y/N took long strides from where his bed was to get to his dick. She got down on her knees, grabbed his whopping erection, and guzzled that dick.
“Damn,” Erik hissed before letting out a deep moan, “Suck my dick, bitch. Suck me good.” Y/N was loving on Erik’s juicy meat each time she drew it into her mouth. Down in a squat and using only her mouth to suck his dick, Y/N started moving her hips to the music. She was enjoying herself why not dance a little? Erik lifted his shirt to rest under his chin and then he took both his hands to grab her face and fuck her mouth. Her head rocked back and the gagging she did was drowned out by the music. He was so big that he stabbed the back of her throat. She was losing her balance from how intense he fed her some dick.
“Fucking bitch.” He was vicious. Y/N was ready for him to cum because of his assault on her mouth. She smacked his thighs hard snapping Erik out of it so she could take a breath.
“D-Daddy,” Her throat felt raw, “I’m sorry, I really am, I can’t take it.”
“But you always take this dick like a good girl,” Erik rubbed the tip of his dick on her lips, “I think you know not to play with me like that again.”
Y/N nodded her head swiftly, “Yes, Daddy. Can I suck your dick again, please? I’m ready. I wanna swallow your cum, Daddy,” Y/N grabbed his dick and started planting delicate kisses along his shaft, “Pretty please, Daddy? then you can fuck my pussy,” She pats her pussy, “I want you inside me,” She whispered seductively.
“Fuck…Girl,” Erik grabbed his dick, “Here, just take it from me since you so damn greedy for this Daddy dick!”
“Thank you, Daddy,” She sucked him up damn near making her delirious.
“You really love sucking this Daddy dick, Lil Mama.”
Y/N focused all her love and affection on the tip of his pipe. Her tongue would flick the underside of his head while her lips twirled around it like she was sucking on a lollipop or a popsicle.
“Ohhhhh shit, get that shit, girl!”
The more she sucked the more Erik cheered her on. His member became thicker in her mouth and now she was drooling down her chin and her shirt.
“Fuck, Lil Mama, you making me cum,” His face scrunched up and after his dick pulsated in her mouth a few times Erik’s tasty cum oozed out the sides of her mouth. She couldn’t stop sucking his dick. Erik had to grab her hair and pull her mouth off to stop her. Y/N’s chin and neck was covered with the cum that spilled from her mouth. She tried putting him back in her mouth leading Erik to playfully slap her face.
“Stop it, girl. I want some pussy now.” Y/N raised her body from the floor. Erik started undressing her, yanking on her clothes with his thick fingers. Now that she was fully undressed, Erik lifts Y/N from the floor to wrap her legs around his waist. She grabbed his shoulders and pressed her cum covered face into his neck. Y/N breathed in his scent and kissed him with her wet lips.
“mmmm,” His dick smacked her in the pussy, “I can’t wait anymore I’m getting in this pussy.”
Using all his strength, Erik spread Y/N’s legs, using his hips to stretch her pussy open. He started rocking into her at a speedy pace like he was fucking her to the beat of the trap music. The drumming of his walls mixed with the way Y/N moaned was euphoria. Her moisture made squelching noises as it saturated Erik’s dick. She was so wet Erik’s dick kept slipping out. He was literally drenched from the tip of his dick to his balls. Her pussy sheathed his dick like a flesh-eating piranha.
“This phat pussy on you ain’t no joke, girl.”
Her ass and thighs ricocheted off of him as he pounded her pussy. Y/N couldn’t control her cries for more. The vision of Erik staring intently into her eyes as he took control of her body.
“Dayum, I feel that pussy gripping. I stay digging in yo’ shit don’t I?”
“YES! fuck-YES.”
Erik walked while still pumping his dick in Y/N until her back touched the bed. Erik pinned her down and stuffed her tight little pussy until it started talking back. That pussy was making a lot of noise whenever Erik dropped all that dick, balls deep, in that pussy. Erik watched the way he pounded her wetness.
“Damn, that’s a beautiful pink pussy. It makes me wanna eat it for hours.”
“Please do Daddy- OH FUCK!” Her eyes rolled back, “I love Daddy dick!”
“Daddy fucking this pussy, girl. I gotchu. You getting this pussy fucked.”
He was so calm with his words but that dick was a monster. Y/N gladly gave her pussy up.
“Take as much dick as you want, Lil Mama. Let Daddy make that pussy feel good. Let Daddy eat that pussy and ass. Let Daddy finger that pussy anywhere-”
“BAYBEEEEEE!!!!!”
She yelled at the top of her lungs while cumming on Erik’s dick. They both hadn’t noticed that the music stopped playing. Her moans and the sound of their skin slapping seeped through those thin walls. Erik didn’t give two fucks at that point. His only care was to make Y/N’s pussy cum so she could squeeze his thick dick and milk him dry.
“Open that pussy baby, I’m so close,” Erik whispered. Her weak legs went up and over his shoulder. Y/N’s sweet voice and soft moans in his ear weakened him further. his balls were so tight and ready to empty all his cum. Erik sucked on her nipples while he stroked. He was pulling on her clit with his veiny shaft.
“Yes,” Erik started looking distressed in the face. He reached his hand out to grab her neck provoking Y/N to grab his neck in return. Erik was defeated when her little hand wrapped around his neck. The feeling of her warm fingers and coffin-shaped nails sinking into the skin on the back of his neck made Erik shoot his load in spurts. Each time he pumped a thick stream of cum would erupt from his slit.
“Cum for me, Daddy.”
Erik slipped out of her slowly, grunting when he saw his cum drip from her pussy and onto his bed. Y/N kept her legs wide open and killed him with those big innocent eyes.
“All that wet ass pussy.”
She bit her lip while her hips moved in slow circles.
“You ain’t bring no clothes did you?”
She smiles, “I did, and my books.”
“Hmm,” Erik looked at her pussy again, “Give me your fucking keys so I can get your stuff. Take a shower and sleep naked for some more dick. I’m getting rid of these niggas.”
Summary: He's supposed to be laying low. A job overseas went bloody, and Erik Stevens-Black Ops Mercenary, Ghost of the U.S. Government-needs to go quiet. He crashes at his little sister's place near Howard University in Chocolate City. But when he arrives, there's a surprise: she's got a roommate. Her Best Friend. She's grown since he last saw her. Grown in all the ways that test a man's self control. But Erik? He's never been good at following the rules...
Warnings: Age Gap Romance/ Forbidden Attraction/ Explicit Sexual Content (strong smut, oral sex, size kink, erotic praise, power exchange)/Slow Burn to Filthy/Obsession & Possessiveness/Sexual Tension in Shared Spaces/Mutual Voyeurism/Sexting/Emotional Denial/Resistance/Breeding Talk/Male Dom / Female Sub Dynamic
Part Seven
Erik sucked his teeth, sat up a little more, thighs tensing beneath her hands. He looked down at her with her messy hair, and need all over her face and reached out to grab her jaw with one hand, thumb sliding across her lips.
“You wanna ride me?”
Sanaa nodded, lips parting around his thumb. She sucked it slow with her eyes locked on his.
Erik let out a low breath, nostrils flaring. His dick twitched hard in her hand. “Aight then,” he said. “Get up here.”
The way he said it wasn’t a request. Sanaa didn’t hesitate. She threw her leg over and straddled him, hands planted on his chest for balance. Erik leaned back on his elbows, watching her like a man possessed, eyes dragging from the sway of her hips to the heavy breath in her chest. He reached down, wrapped that big hand around his dick, and held it steady, thick and gleaming, the tip pulsing.
“Come get it.” He said with a low rasp.
Sanaa lifted just right, body knowing what to do like this wasn’t her first time begging for it. She lined herself up with the head, hips hovering, teasing his tip with slick little circles. Just working it in slowly, letting that first stretch send a shiver through both of them. Sanaa moaned airy and breathless, rolling her hips while Erik was only halfway inside. Erik’s head tipped back, jaw tight, watching her get herself ready for the full thing.
Then, she sank.
Her breath caught as she sank down, thighs trembling while his dick pushed up through that tight, sloppy grip. Sanaa couldn’t help the way her mouth fell open, tongue peeking out against her top lip, eyes half-closed like she was somewhere between begging and backing out. She lifted, rolled her hips again, and slipped out with a slick sound that made her flinch.
“Come on, ma,” Erik whispered, voice low and gritty, his hips flexing up. “Put that shit back in. Don’t play.”
Sanaa reached behind her, fingers wet as she guided him back. His tip slipped past her folds, thick and glistening, dragging slick through her creamy pussy before sliding home again. Her back bowed, belly tensed, she took it inch by inch, breathing sharp through her nose like she was bracing for a stretch that hit deep every single time. Sanaa’s body paused like it was stunned by the depth, a little tremble shaking through her frame. But then, she started moving.
“There you go,” Erik said, voice like gravel on velvet. “Keep that arch for me. Just like that. Let me open this lil’ pussy up.”
She rode him like she was made for it.
Slow motion. Rolling her hips, arching her back, catching that stroke right where it made her eyes flutter and her breath skip. Her ass popped on the up stroke, then clapped softly when she dropped back down, thick and perfect against his thighs. Every grind pulled a sound out of Erik, deep in his throat. Low curses. Grunts. Praise.
Sanaa leaned forward, hands planted on his chest, his keloid scars slick beneath her palms. His pecs flexed under her touch like he was holding back from grabbing her and flipping the whole thing.
Sanaa whimpered sweet and buried like she was tryna swallow it down. Her knees dug into the mattress, feet braced over his thighs, ass lifting just enough to let him drive up harder. Erik didn’t even need to thrust far. He had her right where he wanted her. Just enough space for that big dick to pull back, then stroke up slow, deep, and firm. No air between them. Just desire. A vice grip. The sound of his dick stirring through slick like a slow churn.
Sanaa rocked and rode and lost herself in it, pausing only to lean down and kiss him slow and nasty, tongue sliding deep, lips parted like she needed his mouth to survive the high she was chasing. Then, she sat back up, arching again, going back to the motion. Deeper.
The way she stared down at him? It was like she owned him. Sanaa bit down on her bottom lip harder, breathing ragged. Her body twitched when he spread her ass wider, one hand gripping a cheek, thumb resting where her back curved into the dip of her spine. The other hand slid between her thighs and tugged her folds open on one side, just enough to feel how fucking tight of a squeeze it is to fit his dick in her. Just enough to feel the way she swallowed him each time he came back in. The flesh of her tight hole gliding smooth over veins and a thick pole.
Erik…loved it. That thick dick throbbed inside her. The hand on her back slid up and down, gripping her waist, helping her pace.
“Good girllll,” Erik praised, his voice deep and ragged. “Just like that pretty girl. This why you been actin’ up?” Erik whispered. “This what you needed? You needed daddy to fuck you quiet like this?”
Sanaa’s head dropped, her breath catching in her throat. She nodded, still rocking soft but getting fucked harder than she meant to. Each time Erik asked her ‘this what you needed?’ The tempo increased. That dick curved up right into her, hitting that spot that made her legs shake and her face twist up. She didn’t mean to roll her hips like that or let the creamy mess between them get louder. It was as if her body didn’t belong to her anymore. An object to be fucked by Killmonger like it asked for.
And this wasn’t even his final form.
Erik’s palms slid over her ass and held her open while he kept stroking. Sanaa’s body jolted every time his tip kissed the back of her pussy. It felt like pressure and a tickle all at once. Slipping out, sliding back in. Circling on the up stroke, sliding out slowly on the down stroke. Cream clinging to him. Her walls tightening to keep him in. But Erik’s dick is so thick. Long. And her pussy couldn’t help but give him room.
It shocked her. Sanaa was a brilliant girl but it never crossed her mind that a dick that’s equal parts thick and long could open her pussy up like this. Penetrate her and make her pussy cream and flutter like it had its own heartbeat.
“I should keep you up all night doin’ this shit. Fuckin’ you ‘til that walk change.”
“Daddy—”
“Shhh. Shut the fuck up. The only talkin’ I wanna hear is this pussy.”
Erik pressed his lips to her temple. His hands made its way to her waist, holding her still. Steady. On that dick. His hips drove up with a slow torture, punishing strokes and heavy weight like he was tryna leave the shape of his dick in her forever.
“You tryna wake her up?” Erik warned with a threatening whisper. “You tryna let her know how nasty you been behind her back?”
“No—no, I’m not—”
“Then Shut that shit up and ride this dick like you supposed to.” Erik spoke rough in her ear. So low it sent shivers down her spine.
And she gave it to him. All of it.
Sanaa bit the corner of her lip again, trembling, eyes almost rolling up. His dick stroked through the grip of her pussy with steady weight, gliding smooth and tight, dragging against her walls. The sound was slick and wet, sticky and clinging, layered with the subtle knock of his heavy balls brushing her ass when he dropped her down just right. Sanaa’s toes curled against his thighs. Her belly fluttered. She could feel him in her gut. Sanaa dragged her nails down his pecs and tried to lift her hips a little but Erik is stronger.
“Feel all that up in you, huh?” Erik said. “That’s what you was fiendin’ for, baby? Fat dick pressin’ your stomach? Stretchin’ your shit out. Don’t you move, now.” His tone was taunting; teasing.
Erik’s hands slid down her waist, wide palms smoothing over the curve of her hips before gripping the underside of her ass. He let her work. Let her grind slow like she had all day. But he couldn’t stop himself from giving her something extra. After all, he’s extra.
Pop.
A gentle slap to her right cheek made her gasp and bounce a little harder. Then, he rubbed it, smoothed his hand over the sting.
“Yeah,” Erik said low, looking up at her like she was art. “That’s it, baby. Ride that shit.”
Sanaa was in another dimension. Dick drunk. Eyes low. Mouth slick and almost drooling, whispering nonsense that didn’t make full sense but still sounded sexy as hell. Sanaa’s hands went to fist the sheets. Her thighs spread over him. The stroke was making her dizzy. Erik slid both hands around her waist and pulled her flush against him, holding her in place while he started fucking up into her with slow, mean precision. Each thrust was full. The bed barely moved but the air between them thickened with sweat and secret moans and groans swallowing into the backs of throats.
Erik bent his knees, driving up from the base, hips angled just right so his whole length stroked through the grip of her pussy like he was molding her insides with every pass. Sanaa’s breath stuttered. Her mouth hung open. She tried to hold it in. Tried to be good. But that shit felt so fucking good.
“I—mmh—this dick feel so good,” she breathed, grinding with slow, wet rolls. “Might start crying on it…I’m not even playin’…”
Erik laughed but dropped off into a groan when she clenched on him mid-roll. Erik gave her left cheek a light slap, then grabbed it, pulling her down harder.
“Don’t play then.” Erik warned. “Go head and cry.”
Sanaa was in the zone. One hand drifted up his chest again, Palm gliding over his scars, fingertips teasing his nipple just to make him twitch. The other hand braced on his thigh behind her for balance.
“I could live on this dick.” She whispered with a shaky laugh, voice floaty.
“You already do.” Erik shot back.
But Sanaa didn’t hear him. Or maybe she did and ignored it. Sanaa’s eyes fluttered shut. Her hips paused at the base of his stroke. Then…
She started bucking.
No warning. No ease into it. She just popped her hips and that bubbly ass back and up, then dropped down on him with force. That wet clap echoed between them.
“Shhhit—” Erik grunted, jaw locked. He sat up fast, his hand flying to her waist to ground her, but she was already in the zone.
“Uh uh,” Sanaa panted, riding that dick like she had a point to prove. “Don’t stop me now, I’m on a mission, daddy.”
Erik’s hands tried to slow her, but every time he gripped her waist, Sanaa twisted and bounced harder. Her ass smacked against his thighs, wild and filthy, her head thrown back as she whimpered with a bite of her lip softly and moaned out his name with an airy breath like it was her favorite song.
“Sanaa—”
She reached up, palmed the back of his neck, and pulled his forehead to hers. “Loose control, daddy.” She breathed, voice wrecked but still taunting. “Come on. I want it.”
That was her plan the whole time. To ride him until he couldn’t think straight. To fuck him until his voice broke and he forgot every rule he made about control. And judging by the way his fingers dug into her flesh and those muscles flexed…
It was working.
Sanaa leaned her weight forward, kept that nasty dance, and added something new to it. Her hand—small, delicate, manicured fingers with her name on her gold necklace glinting between her tits—wrapped right around Erik’s throat. Just enough pressure to make his head tilt back and his eyes lock onto hers like she had him pinned in place. Like he belonged to her now.
And then she rode him.
From tip to base. Working every inch of that thick ass dick like it was hers to break in. Her body rolled in perfect time, ass popping up, then dropping back down to the back with a wet clap again and again. Sanaa stayed eye to eye with him the whole time.
Erik’s mouth fell open. A low, guttural sound came from his chest, his hands gripping her thighs like he was hanging on for dear life. His nostrils flared, his gold canines flashed as his top lip curled to fight the urge to groan so loud he wakes the whole building up. His whole body tensed underneath her like he was fighting the urge to flip her over and wreck her. But he didn’t. He let her have it. Let her take that power.
His expression was war. Tight jaw. Eyes dark and ablaze. Clenched abs. Fists flexing on her skin. Eyes damn near desperate. Breathing hard.
“Sanaa…” Erik grunted, voice all gravel and restraint. “Fuck, baby.”
Sanaa smiled. A slow, wicked, bratty smile. She rolled her hips in a circle while still sitting in him full. She was gon’ milk him good. Then, she leaned in close, mouth at his ear, whispering low, breathy, slick.
“What’s wrong, Killmonger?”
Erik twitched. His grip on her thighs got tighter. That name hit different coming from her mouth. Especially with her sitting on his fucking dick like that. Dripping and talking her shit.
“You supped to be the big bad soldier, huh?” She panted, riding again, faster now, breath hitching between words. “Don’t tell me I got you foldin’…”
Erik growled low in his throat. His eyes snapped to hers, wide, wild, hungry. “You wanna play like that?” He said, voice hoarse.
Sanaa kept bouncing. Let her hand tighten just a little more on his throat, thumb pressing under his jaw while her pussy clamped down and stroked him from base to tip like a goddamn vice. Like he was her personal toy. Her toy soldier.
“Mmhm,” she whispered. “Killmonger can’t take it…”
And that was it.
Erik’s hand shot up, yanked her wrist off his neck, and pinned it to the bed beside him. His other arm wrapped around her back, locking her down.
But Sanaa was still grinding. Still riding that big thing. Erik’s arms caged her in—thick, strong, immovable. Erik shifted under her, sitting up in one powerful motion, his chest pressed to hers, their breaths tangled. Sanaa barely had time to blink before his hands slid beneath her thighs, hooking her knees over his forearms, palming the underside of her ass with a grip that meant business.
Then he stood up. Taking back his power. Ain’t no way some lil’ girl was gonna grab him by the neck and ride his dick and talk shit in his ear like she in charge. Fuck that.
That big dick never slipped out once. Erik rose with her still fully seated on him, buried to the base, his muscles flexing all down his back and arms. Sanaa gasped, arm’s flailing for his shoulders before clutching tight. He made that shit look so effortless. Erik adjusted his hold, tightening his grip on her thighs, locking her in against his chest.
And then, he bounced her.
Not wild. Not frantic. But deep. Firm.
Erik dropped her down on that dick, letting the full weight of his body take him. His grip under her ass controlled every motion like she was a workout, a blessing, and a punishment all rolled into one. Her pussy opened for him every time, swallowing that big dick whole, her walls fluttering with every single drop like that pussy was talking to him, begging Killmonger to murder her shit.
Sanaa couldn’t catch a breath. Her body tensed and softened all at once—overwhelmed, overstimulated, taken. He was using her like she belonged in his arms getting fucked like this. She was made to be lifted and held and fucked. Her pretty head dropped back, those glossy lips parted, that tiny breath hitching. She had never been handled like this before. Ever. Then here comes this big, strong, soldier with scars and a lethal dick to rewrite everything the thought she knew about getting fucked.
“Erik—”
Sanaa moaned his name once, sweet and quiet. But it turned to something else. Something filthier. More desperate. Like her body knew what she needed before her mind caught up.
It spilled out of her in waves, soft, breathy, cracked around the edges. Her thighs trembled against his arms, her nails clawing at his back, and her pussy was dripping. Soaked and sucking him back in with every controlled thrust. When Sanaa caught their reflection, her eyes went round. Her small frame folded in the air around his big, muscled, scarred, tall body. She looked helpless, caged, locked.
She just raised his number to 2,208.
Pick yourself up Bri—oh, wait—you’re stuck in the air bitch how you gonna flip it on him again?
Damn, he all up in this pussy.
Why he fucking me like this?
Erik looked up at her face, lips swollen, hair clinging to her cheek, eyes fluttering with every drop. “You wanted it,” he said, low and steady, sweat beading on his neck. “Now take it.”
Then, he bounced her again, slow and punishing, that big thing pushing her to the brink.
All Sanaa could do was hang on. Fall apart. Moan his name. Her toes curled right in the air, ankles flexing with every drop. She was about to tap out. But that would make her look like a weak bitch. Her whole body tensed like a struck cord, arms wrapped tighter around Erik’s shoulders as she dropped her head to his neck. She pressed her nose into his skin, right where the warmth gathered, where his clean scent lived. Masculine mix of sweat, lotion, and something earthy that was just him. It made her dizzy.
Erik was in it. He was bouncing her just right on that thick dick. He switched it up. Started feeding her. Rolling his hips upward as she came down. Rocking into her slow and deep, hitting that spot every single time. The control he had over his body was insane. Like he had power running through his veins. Inhuman. He adjusted mid-thrust, tilting her hips, locking her tighter against him so her clit dragged across his pelvis just right.
She was unraveling from the inside out.
“…Killmonger…yes…baby…”
The name barely left her lips before Erik’s jaw clenched. He adjusted his stance, braced one foot back to keep his balance, then slammed her down deeper, held her there, let her feel all of it.
“You wanted Killmonger?” he breathed against her ear, voice low and gritty, laced with dark amusement, “Huh?” He bounced her again, the sound of her moaning his name fed something carnal in him, “Say it again, Princess.”
Sanaa shook her head, biting her lip, but her pussy clenched hard around him, giving her away.
“Nah,” Erik growled. “You been talkin’ all that shit now you gettin’ it.” Another thrust. Deep. He rocked up into her and held, “Say. That. Shit.”
Her breath caught, “…Killmonger…” Sanaa’s voice barely made it past her lips. “Don’t stop fucking your pussy, Killmonger…”
That was all Erik needed.
His arms flexed tighter beneath her knees, locking Sanaa in. Her back was flat against the wall now but her hips were tipped—cocked up perfect and wide. That pussy sat right on his dick like it was made to fit him and only him. Swallowing all that thick pressure with every pump of his hips. Erik didn’t slam into her, he stroked. Sanaa looked down and her breath hitched with surprise at how her hips jerked involuntarily every time he pushed in and how her hips chased the sensation again when he slides back out.
“Mmm. There she go,” Erikk growled low against her throat, breathing in her scent, teeth grazing her skin, “You feel that? That stretch right there?”
Sanaa nodded fast, lower lip trembling but the only sound she could make was a tight little gasp. Her acrylics dug onto his shoulders and her thighs quaked over his arms.
Erik held her there and made her feel it.
“Yeah.” he said, that voice low and deep, “That’s what I thought. Pussy talkin’ now.”
And it was.
Every time he rolled his hips forward, that slick, soaking grip of hers let out a wet little squelch. A pop as air got trapped and pushed back out. That tight little pussy started queefing loud and messy between them. Sanaa’s whole body tensed in embarrassment. She’d NEVER done that before. She shut her eyes and tilted her face away, trying to stop herself from doing it again but nope. It kept happening.
What the fuck?
But Erik loved it.
“Nah, don’t hide,” he grunted, dragging his dick out slow until just the tip sat at her entrance, then pushed right back in with a deep, thick stroke that made her head knock against the wall with a soft thud, “Let it talk. Let me hear how tight that shit is.”
“E—”
Sanaa was trying to hold it in, but Erik didn’t give her the chance. Erik snatched it from her chest with the next thrust. Smooth and deep again. Long strokes. Pussy gripped him so snug it felt like it was sucking him back in. Her arousal was dripping down his ball now. Every time he pulled out, his dick glistened with it, creamy at the base. Wet and shiny all the way up to the head.
Then it happened. That change. That little flutter deep inside her.
Sanaa’s walls started twitching like they were confused. Like her pussy didn’t know if it wanted to clench him or release. It pulsed around him, and she gasped again, harder this time.
“Fuck—”
“Yeah…” Erik grunted, “she feelin’ it now.”
Erik adjusted his stance. He took one small step forward so her back pressed tighter to the wall, and then he angled his hips downwards. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was chasing her spot now. And when he found it? Sanaa had to bite down on her bottom lip to stifle a loud moan. Her whole body jerked in his arms. Her mouth dropped open, closed in a pout, eyes crossing, breath catching. Her pussy squeezed so hard around his dick it made his knees buckle.
“Damn, there she go. That’s what I wanted from that pussy.”
Sanaa didn’t even know if she could ever speak again after that. But a sound came out of her. A mix of a cry and a moan and a choked little please. All the things he watched from her, every thrust hit that spot. She started having the most intense orgasm she’d ever had and she couldn’t run. She could feel it. A warm, milky wave gushing out of her, coating his dick, her thighs, dripping to the floor of. It made everything wetter. Nastier. Louder. Pussy slipping and gripping around him. Erik licked his lips as he watched her face twist up.
“Creamin’ on this dick, baby?” Erik spoke soft, biting her earlobe, “That’s what happen when you fuck wit’ a grown ass man.”
Sanaa whimpered. Bit her lip.
His dick dragged through her like he was reminding her who owned that pussy. Like he knew it better than she did. Rubbing her walls raw in the best way. Grinding into that tender, aching spot inside her that had her leaking again.
Do that again, Daddy that feels so good, she thought.
His voice was a low growl now, filthy, dark, right in her ear.
“You gon’ take this dick. Just like that. That’s what you wanted, ain’t it? That what you beggin’ for?”
Erik snapped his hips into her so deep her eyes rolled.
She was cumming again. Not from clit play. Not from fingers.
From dick.
Thick, deep, grown man dick.
Sanaa moaned—low-pitched, pretty, almost sobbing—and Erik smiled against her neck.
“Uh huh…that’s right,” he said, “Let me hear it.”
He rolled his hips again, just right. And again. Stroking deep and smooth. Not stopping. Her walls squeezed so tight around him he could barely move.
“Damn, baby…this pussy tryna keep me in…” His voice dropped even lower. “You want me to cum in it, don’t you?”
Her body jumped.
Sanaa shook her head weakly, but he saw the way her pussy clenched again. She couldn’t even lie.
Erik laughed under his breath, “You came beggin’ for this dick again I don’t know, Bri. Might not get this nut tonight.”
Then he did something that wrecked her.
He leaned back just enough to look at her.
Held her up, eyes locked to hers, and gave her one… slow…deep grind.
His dick dragged against every inch of her walls. Pressed to her spot. Stretched her from the inside until her whole body arched and her face twisted in pure pleasure.
“Ain’t nobody ever fucked you like this…made you cream like this…” He kissed her jaw, “Nah…they was playin’ wit’ it, wasn’t they baby? Huh? Daddy got you…”
Another thrust. Another cry. Sanaa’s head hit the wall again. Her nails scratched down his back. She was shaking so bad he had to grip her tighter.
He groaned through gritted teeth, “Keep moaning like that and I’ma fuck around and nut in this tight little pussy…just might give you your present.”
She just nodded, moaned, and melted around him—completely fucked. Her walls fluttered again, and he knew…
She was about to cum AGAIN.
Erik rolled his hips again, one long, smooth stroke that had her gasping into his neck. Her body arched. Her pussy clenched. Her thighs twitched where they were locked over his arms. Erik could feel how open she was now. How she’d molded to him. Wrapped around him so tight and juicy and so fucking wet, it sounded like syrup every time he sank back in.
Slrp…squelch…slrp…
“Shhhhit,” he groaned, dragging his lips across her cheek, breath hot. “That sound makin’ me crazy…”
He shifted just slightly, angled deeper. Lower. Found that spot again.
Sanaa opened her mouth but no sound came out. Then, her head dropped back and her face…
So damn pretty.
Lips parted. Brows pinched. Skin flushed and glistening. She looked like she didn’t know whether to moan or cry.
Erik watched her, mesmerized, “Look at you…” he muttered, eyes dropping to her mouth. “So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”
She bit her lip, hard. Her fingers clawed into his back. Erik pulled her away from the wall. He grunted, bounced her again, then rolled his hips so perfect her eyes damn near crossed. Sanaa pressed her lips to the curve of his neck, panting softly, her nose buried in his scent. Her body was wrung out, pussy soaked and fluttering around him, but she gave him what he wanted.
His grip on her thighs tightened, “Yeah,” he said, rocking up into her again, slow and deliberate, “you wanted Killmonger…”
Erik fed it to her just like that. Deep strokes that made her press her forehead to his jaw, made her toes curl again in the air. Erik backed towards the bed, still holding her while deep inside, until the backs of his legs hit the edge. Then, he eased down, his arms guiding her down with him like she was something precious. He settled back against the pillows, legs spread wide, hands gripping beneath her thighs while she adjusted.
Sanaa didn’t waste time.
She rose up into a squat, planted her feet firm on either side of his thighs, and lifted herself until just the tip of that thick dick stayed inside. Then, she dropped. The sound it made—the wetness, the weight of her ass clapping down, the deep breath Erik took through his nose—fills the room.
Sanaa did it again and again. Her curls fell into her face, sticking to her cheeks and neck, sweat rolling down her chest as her body took over. She was on a mission now. Squatting low, bouncing on him with that juicy grip, swallowing every inch. Her thighs flexed, that ass jiggled with each drop, and her moans came out like breathy spells.
“Mm…fuck, it’s too deep…I can’t even breathe right…you feel that? You feel that, daddy?”
Erik didn’t answer. He leaned in, mouth hungry, and caught her nipple between his lips, sucked it, tongue circling the tip before letting it pop free. Then, he moved to the other, licking and teasing until her back arched and her pussy pulsed hard around him.
Sanaa’s hand went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, grounding herself against the flood of pleasure. She didn’t wanna stop riding. She didn’t wanna stop grinding. She started rolling her hips, slow figure eights while still deep in that squat, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted around a soft moan, chest heaving.
It was a sight.
Her curls framed her face wild and damp. Nipples hard and pointed. Mouth glossy with spit. That slim-thick body was glistening everywhere—down her neck, across her stomach, where Erik’s hands slid to grab her waist. Every bounce, every grind, made her gasp. Made her sigh. Made her shine.
Erik breathed heavy, eyes locked on the way she moved, “Fuckin’ beautiful…”
His thighs were tight, muscles straining as he held himself back, eyes locked on the sight above him. Sanaa’s hips were working overtime, slow then fast, smooth then nasty. She was riding him like it meant something. Like she needed that dick to breathe. Her palms braced against his chest as she worked her body over his big dick, up and down, clenching him so tight he could barely think. Erik’s hands had nowhere to go but up—one locked around her waist, the other scrubbed up her stomach, over the curve of her breast, and finally up to her face. His thumb traced along her jaw before sliding to her cheek. He was stuck. Couldn’t stop looking at her. That lil’ face twisted in ecstasy, mouth open, eyes fluttering every time she sank down on him and took it all like a good girl.
“Give it to me…” she begged, voice sugar-slick and whimpering, “Give it to me, please.”
Erik grunted low, chest heaving, lips parted like the air got caught in his throat. He could feel it rising, the rush, the heat in his spine, the clench in his gut. Her pussy was too tight. Too wet. She gripped him and made a mess on him every time she bounced.
“I’m bein’ good,” she said through breathy moans, her ass slapping against his thighs. “I’m riding daddy’s dick good.”
He could barely hold on. His head dropped back against the pillow, jaw tight, sweat slicking the cut of his collarbones. “Fuck, lil’ mama…”
Her lips curled into a wicked little smile. She wanted all of him. And she was gonna get it. Sanaa dropped her hips faster, harder, like she knew he was right on the edge.
“Fill me up.”
Erik looked up at her like she was unreal. A fantasy he accidentally pulled out of his dreams. Her titties bouncing with every move. The roll of her hips was deadly. The wet sounds between them only made it filthier. She arched her back, leaned forward, and started grinding instead of bouncing. That roll she did with her hips? That shit broke him.
“Unh…yes,” she panted, nails digging into his chest. “Give me that Killmonger dick.”
Erik growled, deep and guttural, reaching ip and grabbing the back of her neck, dragging her face close to his. His eyes were heavy, bloodshot, lost in her, “You gon’ make me bust up in this pussy, girl…”
“That’s what I want,” she said, breath all over his lips. “I want it. I want you to nut in this pussy. I been so good. Look how I take it. Look at me…”
Erik looked. Couldn’t not look. Her pussy was swallowing him. Gripping every inch like it was molded for him.
Taking every inch of his daddy dick like her little pussy was made to do it. The way her body arched, the curve of her back, the wet slap of her ass meeting his lap—it was obscene, nasty, and perfect. And every time she rode down, her breasts bounced like they were cheering her on.
She put her hands on his chest, leaned forward just enough to whisper in his ear, “Look how I ride it, Daddy,” she panted, voice low and slick, “Look how I take it in my little pussy like a big girl supposed to.”
Erik’s eyes snapped open. That shit hit him like a shot to the chest. His nostrils flared. It was the kind of reaction a man had when he was trying not to bust too soon. Erik frowned hard at her, like her words had personally disrespected him.
Sanaa smirked, proud of herself. She swiveled her hips slow, teasing him with it, making sure he could feel every slick roll of her walls dragging over him.
“Oh yeah…mmm…” she moaned, drawing out the sound like it was syrup on her tongue. Her hands slid up his shoulders, “Such a big dick. You handsome and your thing big. So disrespectful.”
Erik’s hands flew to her ass, palms spread wide as he cupped her cheeks and started bouncing her harder. Sanaa gasped, lost her groove for a second as he took over. Her hands gripped his shoulders tight, nails pressing into his skin. Sanaa looked down at him and the way he stared up at her—eyes dark, lips parted, sweat on his temples—she knew.
He was about to lose it.
That’s right Bri. Bury that nigga.
“Shit,” Erik growled low, his voice breaking apart from how deep it hit. His hands dragged her down and lifted her up, over and over, using her body like it was his personal addiction. His grip got tighter, more demanding, like he needed her to keep going, to stay right there.
Their eyes locked. Sanaa’s mouth parted. She could see it in his face, all over it. That look. That edge. He was right there. Right on the fucking edge of letting go.
His chest rose quick, muscles flexing. His brows pulled in tight and his gold slugs flashed beneath clenched teeth. His hips stuttered, bucking up into her, and he let out this low, primal sound like he was trying to hold back a flood.
Sanaa was taking that dick like she owned it—slow and deep, then fast and filthy, grinding into Erik’s lap with that little arch in her back that always made him twitch. His hands were locked on her ass, pulling her down, forcing her to take all of him. His mouth hung open as he breathed through it, face twisted up like he was trying not to explode.
But Sanaa wasn’t done.
“Say my name,” she whispered.
Erik grunted, trying to hold himself back, but his body was betraying him. Thighs flexing. Chest rising. That big dick of his twitching so deep inside her, begging for release.
“Whose big dick is this?” she asked, breath sweet and soft but commanding as hell, “Who’s big dick this belong to?”
He almost choked on his own spit. His grip on her ass tightened, fingers digging into the flesh like he was trying to keep her there. “It’s yours,” he rasped. “Fuck, it’s yours—”
She tilted her head.
“It’s mine? Huh, Killmonger?”
His whole body jerked. He stilled. He was about to fill her up. He wanted to. Needed to. He was locked in, ready to drown in her.
“Shit—” he breathed, jaw locked, legs tense as hell, “Take this nut, daddy’s girl—”
And that’s when she did it.
Sanaa hopped off. Quick and clean.
Erik let out a deep, wrecked growl as his big dick bounced up, angry and wet, pulsing without a home. His eyes went wide, stunned, and before he could get his bearings, it was already happening. That first thick spurt shot up and landed hot on his lower abs. Another followed, streaking his thighs. His hips bucked helplessly as more of his nut spilled out, messy and hot, painting his skin. He looked down at himself, then back up at her, brows drawn in deep like did you really just hop off my dick?
Sanaa stood at the edge of the bed like a goddess fresh off her throne. Her body glistened in the dim light, skin warm, inner thighs shiny with her own climax. She took her time picking up her T-shirt from the floor, slipping it back over her head like nothing happened. Just tits swaying soft beneath cotton. Then she stepped in front of his full-length mirror and fluffed her curls, satisfied.
Erik watched, still leaking, dick twitching on his stomach, mind blank.
Sanaa giggled to herself, caught his reflection behind her in the mirror, then turned and faced him.
“Now lay in it.”
She blew him a kiss, walked to the door, and slipped out without another word.
And Erik—naked, breathless, covered in his own nut—could only lay there. Speechless. Destroyed. Worshipping her with his eyes while she took all the power with her.
______
Erik stayed frozen. His chest heaved and his lungs burned as he fought for air. The silence that followed Sanaa’s exit was deafening, leaving him stranded in the wreckage of a ruined orgasm. He was vibrating, every muscle in his large, scarred frame coiled tight, trapped in that agonizing limbo between peak pleasure and a sudden, jarring stop.
He looked down at himself, his gaze heavy and dark. His abs were slick, coated in a sheen of chaotic mess that consisted of her juices and the cum he’d leaked while she’d been grinding her pussy on his dick. It was a smeared, translucent map of her greed and her cruelty. Erik reached down, his thick fingers dragging through the wetness on his stomach, swirling her cream into his skin. Erik didn’t wipe it away. He smeared it, feeling the tacky mess against his keloid scars, the scent of her pussy filling his nostrils and fueling the fire in his gut.
Erik’s mind was a loop of the last twenty minutes. He could still feel the exact pressure of her thighs gripping his waist, the way her soft curves collided with his hard muscle. He replayed every bratty, teasing thing she’d whispered in his ear, the way she’d looked down at him with that confident, challenging smirk while she rode him. Like he didn’t fold her little ass in half against the wall. She had known exactly what she was doing. Pushing him to the very edge, making him ache, making him crave the release that only she could trigger, and then simply sliding off right before the explosion.
Erik looked at his dick. It was half-hard, a thick, vein-riven, pole that refused to fully go soft. It was twitching. Pulsing with a frustrated dance. A thick, pearly bead of cum leaked from the tip, dripping onto his thigh. It was the seed that should have been buried deep inside her. The load he had been ready to pump into her until she was overflowing. Right up against the posterior fornix. Seeing it waste away on his own skin made his jaw clench so hard his teeth groaned.
The frustration wasn’t a clean anger. It was a dark, suffocating obsession. He felt a possessive hunger clawing at his insides, a need to reclaim the control she’d snatched away. He stared at the door she’d walked through, his eyes narrowing. The fact that she could leave him like this—wrecked, leaking—didn’t make him want to pull away. It made him want to hunt her down, pin her to the nearest surface, and fuck the bratty attitude right out of her.
Erik touched the leaking tip of his dick, smearing the wasted cum across his thigh, breath hitching. He wasn’t just horny. He was consumed. He wanted to feel her clench around him again. To feel her shake as he finally took what was his. Leave her just as ruined as he was right now.
His mind was a storm. Racing with a volatility that usually only surface in the heat of a kill zone. He was Erik N’Jadaka Stevens. He was a mercenary nicknamed Killmonger. He was a ghost. A weapon. A man who had navigated the darkest corners of the globe as a Navy SEAL and a Black Operative. HALO jumped from war planes. Witnessed the unthinkable. Looked death in the eye and didn’t blink. He had a tally of 2,207 lives extinguished by his own hand. Each one a testament to his precision, his ruthlessness, and his absolute control over every environment he entered.
Erik almost dismantled an entire empire, fought his way through his bloodline and walked away from it all because he was the only one strong enough to do so. He was a man who commanded respect through fear and dominance. He wasn’t someone to be played with, let alone fucked with.
And yet, here he was.
He stared at the ceiling, jaw locked, feeling the phantom weight of Sanaa pressing into him. The sheer audacity of it burned in his chest. This little brat—this slim-thick, espresso brown, teasing woman—had just flipped the script on him. She had ridden him with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, pushing him to the absolute precipice of his sanity, and then she simply vanished. She had left him stranded in the wreckage of his own desire, lying in the ruins of a ruined orgasm.
How? The question echoed in his head, fueling a dark possessive fire. How was it possible that Sanaa held this much power over him? He was the one with the muscle, the experience, the sheer physical presence that could crush her. He was the one who should be dictating the terms of their surrender. But in her absence, he felt the weight of her influence like a collar around his neck. She didn’t need a weapon to disarm him. She just needed to know exactly where his breaking point was and then step away from it.
Her thighs. Thick, soft, warm…grown-woman thighs. That’s the part that hits him in the chest. She sits on the sofa with them pressed together and he can’t stop looking. She walks around the apartment in those tiny shorts and his mouth goes dry. She crosses her legs slow and he feels that twitch in his sweats every damn time.
Her taste. Erik knew she’d be sweet. He knew it. But he didn’t expect that. That flavor. That warmth. That addictive, met-on-his-tongue sweetness that ruins men. She tastes like warm skin, slick heat, something naturally sweet, something that coats his tongue and stays there. Something he wants more of every second. He became obsessed with it. So much so that it started haunting him. He’ll be sitting in the kitchen with a glass of water, thinking about the taste between her thighs. He’ll be trying to sleep but he keeps remembering the way his mouth got messy on her. He’ll be in the shower, jaw clenched, palm on the tile, replaying the sound she made when he spread her open with his thumbs and dragged his tongue across all that wetness. Her taste is the reason he stops pretending she don’t got a hold on him. Because once he found out what that pussy tasted like…
He can’t not want it again. And again. And again. He’s calling her greedy but ain’t no way her greed matches his. Erik is hungry for that pussy. Possessive over that pussy.
Sweetest pussy I ever had. You know I’m comin’ back for that. Don’t give that flavor to nobody else….
How tight her pussy is. When he slid in the first time? Erik damn near forgot his own name. She’s so goddamn right he gotta breathe through it. Gotta hold still. Gotta grip her hips and talk her through opening up because if he move too fast, too soon, he gon’ bust right there. That warm clench around him…the way she hugs every inch…how her pussy tries to pull him deeper…how her walls flutter when she moans…how she get tighter when she says his name. That’s why he gotta fuck her lil’ ass slow sometimes.
The breathy moans. Oh my god. The softness…the shaky ‘mmm’ when he moves just right. The whisper of ‘Erik” when she’s tryna hold on but can’t. Erik could write whole chapters about that sound. Soft. Breathy. Pretty. Innocent but filthy underneath. The sound of a good girl losing her mind for a grown man. That’s what makes him nuts. That innocence melting. And every time she let out one of those little whimpers? He feels it in his spine. In his chest. In his dick. Her moans are what make him emotional about the sex. The thing he didn’t plan on. The part that binds him to her. That’s why he keeps coming back. Why he can’t leave it alone. Because her body talks to him. Her thighs…her taste…her tightness…her voice. And every part says the same thing.
It’s yours.
Erik’s gaze dropped back down to his lap. His dick was a thick, pulsing column again. Just the thought of her got him standing at attention again. He reached down, his massive, calloused hand wrapping around the girth. He could feel a pulse against the pad of his fingers as he pumped the veiny, rock-hard muscle. He watched the way the skin stretched over the thick veins. With every squeeze, more of that wasted seed spilled out. Thick, pearly ropes of cum leaking from the tip, coating his fingers and smearing across his palm. It was a lot of cum. A heavy load that had been built up through minutes of agonizing torture.
Erik gripped himself tighter, a low growl vibrating in his throat. This shit should have been buried inside her. He should have pinned her legs back and sat this dick right against the bottom of her pussy, pumping every single drop of this wasted nut with a pulse of his groin until she was overflowing. Hear those pretty little whimpers as he stuffed her full.
Instead, he was cleaning himself up.
Erik didn’t just want her back. He wanted to reclaim the dominance she had stolen. He pumped his dick one last time, smearing the excess cum over his tip in. Rough, frustrated motion. He wasn’t just horny. He was hunting.
The soldier in him had taken over, and Sanaa had just become the most high-priority target of his life.
5:18 A.M.
The gym lived in a different world before sunrise. No conversations. No crowds. Just steel, rubber flooring, and the steady percussion of plates crashing against barbells. Fluorescent lights reflected off rows of mirrors while the smell of chalk and disinfectant lingered beneath the sharper bite of sweat.
Erik preferred it this way.
Nobody asked questions. Nobody recognized him. Nobody expecting anything except another man putting in work.
He stood at the squat rack rolling his shoulders beneath a fitted black compression shirt that clung to every line across his chest and arms. Dark charcoal shorts stopped just above his knees, revealing powerful quadriceps crisscrossed with veins before the workout had even begun. Black crew socks disappeared into worn training shoes that had seen enough miles to mold themselves around his feet. His locs were pulled back into a low ponytail, thick ropes hanging between his shoulder blades with a few shorter pieces escaping near his temples. Sweat had begun to gather along his hairline despite the hour.
Erik’s headphones sealed the world away.
Mona Lisa.
Lil Wayne’s voice filled his ears.
Erik ducked beneath the loaded barbell and settled it across his back. Four plates. The weight felt familiar. Comfortable. He stepped back, braced, then dropped. The squat was deep enough that his hips disappeared below parallel before he exploded upward again. One. Again. Two. Again. Three. Every rep clean. Every rep angry. Every rep supposed to empty his head. Instead…
Sanaa.
The first time she says his name. Her scent after a shower. Her laugh. Her eyes rolling whenever he said something she ain’t like. The way she’d glance at him before pretending she hadn’t. Those glasses. The bow-legged walk she does with the little switch in her hips.This the same girl that used to sleep over in Aaliyah’s room? The one that would eat cereal cross-legged in the living room? The shy girl that could barely look at him?
“Damn.”
Erik racked the weight harder than necessary.
She had Jim tripping. Actually tripping.
Erik pulled one side of his headphones back long enough to catch his own breathing before shoving it into place again. His thumb pressed the volume buttons.
Louder. Wayne. Kendrick.
The bass vibrated against his skull.
It didn’t matter. She was still there.
Erik walked toward the leg press, loading plate after plate until most people would’ve needed help moving the sled. But Erik was a different breed. His knees folded toward his chest.
Push.
The sled climbed.
Lower. Push. Again. Again. Again.
His thighs burned.
Good.
Maybe pain would do what music couldn’t. Maybe exhaustion would finally knock her loose.
Nope.
Because there she was again. In her oversized t-shirts she’d somehow managed to make look better than anything designed by a fashion house. With those glossy lips looking at him because she knew the effect she had. Staring at him like she wasn’t scared of him. That sas the dangerous part. Most people kept a healthy distance, but Sanaa kept getting closer.
Erik finished the set until his legs trembled, then sat forward with his forearms resting on his thighs, breathing through his nose.
You gotta get it together, he thought.
Erik stood before he could think too hard about the words.
Walking lunges came next. Heavy dumbbells. Eighty pounds in each hand.
Step. Lower. Drive through the heel. Step. Lower. Drive.
His forearms tightened around the knurled handles while every muscle below his waist demanded mercy. Erik welcomed it. The mirror caught him halfway across the turf. Broad shoulders. Compression shift darkened by sweat, revealing the raised scars along his torso and arms. Gold chain tucked beneath the collar. Locs swinging lightly with every stride. A man who looked completely in control.
Only he knew better. Because everytime his mind cleared…there she was. Her voice. Her smile. The little crease beside her nose whenever she tried not to laugh.
This don’t make no damn sense.
Romanian deadlifts. Hamstring curls. Bulgarian split squats. Calf raises until his calves cramped beneath his own bodyweight. An hour became an hour and a half. Then two hours. His legs felt like concrete. His shirt clung to him like a second layer of skin. Sweat traced the tattooed landscape of his arms before disappearing beneath the compression fabric.
His phone vibrated inside his gym bag as he reached for his towel.
One notification.
Aaliyah: Can you be our designated driver tomorrow night big bro? The girlies wanna hit these D.C streets and drinks will be in rotation so I’m tryna be responsible. Please and thank youuuuuuu ☺️
His heartbeat had betrayed him before he looked and realized it was his little sister. For one ridiculous second, he hoped it was her.
Erik shook his head at himself, grabbed the phone. And laughed under his breath.
Damn, lil’ mama. What you doin’ to me?
Erik slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the locker room.
Erik: Aight 🙄
______
Sanaa stirred in her bed, sheets twisted around her legs, body aching deep, thighs trembling as she moved. A whimper slipped out before she could catch it. She blinked awake, the soreness hitting her all at once. Her hips. Her ass. The tender spots between her legs that pulsed from the night before. She lifted the hem of her oversized tee with shaky fingers, marks blooming across the curve of her waist, dark little reminders pressed into her skin. She traced one with her thumb, biting her lip when the pressure made her thighs twitch again.
Killmonger had her going stupid on the dick last night.
Flashes of memory shown behind her closed lids.
Her bouncing. Him picking her up in the air to drop her down in his dick. The slow grind-thrust he did that made her dizzy. How she came more than three times and still had the drive to ride him. Not once. Twice. The look of defeat in his eyes. The way he said her name all weak and pussy-drunk. How his big, strong hands gripped, pinned, caressed, and stilled her body. It was addictive fucking Erik.
Sanaa rolled over until her feet dangled over the side of her bed. She braced herself before pushing off, knees weak. She needed to stretch. There was no was she would be going out tonight in heels and twerking if she couldn’t even stand on two feet. She walked over to her walk-in closet and grabbed her yoga mat. She got into her first position. Her elbows pressed gently against the insides of her knees, easing them apart while she rocked from side to side, loosening joints that still carried last night’s workout.
She flowed into a ninety-ninety hip stretch next, one leg folded in front of her, the other tucked behind. Her fingertips rested lightly on the mat as she leaned forward until she felt the stretch bloom through her glutes and hips. She lingered there, breathing evenly before switching sides. Cat-cows followed, her spine rolling one vertebra at a time, then slow world’s greatest stretches that opened her hip flexors, hamstrings, and thoracic spine all at once.
By the time she finished with a few kneeling ankle rocks and controlled knee-over-toe lunges, warmth had replaced stiffness. Her hips felt lighter. Her knees tracked smoothly. She rose from the mat with an easy smile, bouncing once on the balls of her feet feeling stronger than she had fifteen minutes before.
Sanaa could almost see him. The massive, scarred warrior reduced to a shaking mess. The memory of it sent a fresh throb between her thighs. She had ridden him. Every inch of that thick, veiny dick stretching her open, pushing her to the brink. She had felt his control slipping, heard the way his breath hitched and his voice grew ragged. Begging to fill her pussy up. And then, at the absolute peak, when he was practically sobbing for it, she had simply slid off him.
Sanaa remembered the look of sheer, stunned betrayal on his face as she stood up, leaving him stranded. He had cum so hard just from the sudden loss of her gushy pussy, his nut erupting in thick, wasted ropes that coated his own stomach and thighs. He had been left to drown in his own cum, a ruined man, while Sanaa fluffed her hair and walked away without a backward glance. And she was glad she didn’t. Because she may have caved.
In that moment, Sanaa had felt an intoxicating surge of power. It wasn’t just about the sex. It was the psychological victory. She was a petite woman. A slim-thick frame that he could practically snap in half if he wanted to, yet she had brought him to his knees without lifting a finger—well she did lift that pussy up and down his dick. She had made a man of his stature, a ruthless killer and a dominant force of nature crumble. It made her feel like a goddess. A true woman who knew exactly how to wield her sexuality as a weapon. The contrast—his raw, masculine aggression versus her soft, bratty rigor—had been the ultimate aphrodisiac.
The triumph began to morph into a delectable, trembling anticipation.
Sanaa knew Erik. She knew that a man like him didn’t just take a loss. He planned a counter-attack. By leaving him like that, she hadn’t just won a round. She had issued a challenge. She could almost feel his possessive rage simmering. The dark, hungry fire that would be waiting for her the next time they were in the same room.
Her thoughts went from ‘that dick is the reason I keep playing with myself’ to ‘that dick is the reason I’m scared to let him fuck me’ to ‘that dick is the reason I keep letting him fuck me.’
A shiver ran down her spine, her pussy quivering instinctively. Sanaa was practically craving the moment he would decide he’d had enough of her games. She imagined his massive hand wrapping around her throat, pinning her down with a full weight of his muscular body, his voice a low, dangerous growl in her ear telling her exactly how he was going to punish her for her audacity. She wanted him to tame her. She wanted to feel that dominance return with a vengeance. To be stuffed full of his cum. To be gagged by his dick. A physical reminder that while she could play with fire, he was the one who owned the flame. The thought of being completely overwhelmed by him, of having her bratty confidence crushed under all that muscle, those scars, those tattoos, made her ache.
She was just about to go and take a shower when a knock hit the door. Before she could answer, Aaliyah pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Gurl. You still sleep? It’s almost twelve in the afternoon, sis.”
“I could have been in here flicking my bean.” Sanaa throws back, rolling her eyes.
Aaliyah flopped down at the foot of the bed, phone in her hand.
“Jordan been blowing me up all morning talkin’ ‘bout he sorry. I got his ass blocked so fast he prolly still typing. I ain’t got time for that nigga and his weak-ass bars or that dusty podcast he keep pushin’. He can keep that energy over there.”
“For how long before you end up taking him back, Liyah?” Sanaa replied with amusement.
“I swear I’m not this time. Plus, I’m leaving for my fellowship in three days. I wanna turn up and forget his ass. Maybe I’ll run into a new man and have a little fun. Who knows.”
Aliyah poked her tongue out. Sanaa laughed.
“Naima coming over to stay the night. The other girlies will be here tomorrow. And I texted Erik to ask if he can be our bodyguard for the night. He said aight.”
Sanaa had a visceral reaction to the sound of his name. She played it off with a chuckle and a shoulder shrug.
“That was sweet of him. Maybe he can have some fun instead of staying cooped up in here.”
“Gurl, I can say the same for you.”
“What?” Sanaa looked over at Aaliyah.
“Nothing.”
Aaliyah stretched out, back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Sanaa pretended to scroll through her planner on her iPad, but every slight movement of her weight sent a fresh ache rolling through her pussy. She pressed her knees together under the desk, trying to breath steady.
Aaliyah’s silence made Sanaa glance over to her best friend. She had this look on her face. Her usual chattiness halted.
“You good, Liyah?”
“Yeah,” Aaliyah said, but her voice dragged a little. She looked like she had more sitting on her tongue, something heavy, but she just sat up instead. “I gotta get ready anyway.”
She stood, crossing the room, and reached out to squeeze Sanaa’s shoulder—hard. The way she always did when she was feeling playful. Sanaa shoved her in return.
“Don’t be all day in here, bitch. I ordered us breakfast from that corner bakery we like. And some macha!”
11:08 A.M.
Washington, D.C.
Maple syrup. Butter. And fresh matcha.
Aaliyah had ordered breakfast from the little bakery around the corner that everyone on campus swore by. Empty brown paper bags sat folded on the kitchen island beside two half-finished iced matches, their cups beaded with condensation. Flaky crumbs from croissant breakfast sandwiches littered white napkins, evidence that neither woman had been particularly concerned with eating neatly. Sanaa leaned against the island, one hip resting against the quartz countertop while she absently stirred the last bit of ice in her drink.
Fresh out of the shower, she looked nothing like the woman she’d become once makeup and a dress entered the equation. Her dark curls were piled into a messy bun high on her head, loose ringlets escaping around her temples and the back of her neck. Gold hoops decorated her ears. A pair of turquoise tortoise shell glasses rested low on her nose while she scrolled through her phone. She wore charcoal yoga leggings that hugged her hips down to her calves, igniting her curves, a matching sports bra, and soft cream house slippers. Her lips glistened with caramel gloss and her skin still carried that fresh-out-the-shower glow because of the shower oil she’d used. Saltwater Vanilla. Comfort looked dangerously good on her.
Across from her, Aaliyah looked equally at home. She’d pulled on an oversized Howard University T-shirt that swallowed her frame and. Pair of black biker shorts. White crew socks disappeared into fuzzy tan slippers, and her hair had been gathered into a sleek puff. Her face was completely bare except for mascara and lip balm, making her look younger than twenty-two. She took another sip of her macha and sighed dramatically.
“I don’t even wanna get dressed.”
Sanaa laughed without looking up. “You literally planned this.”
“I know.” Aaliyah frowned into her cup. “Planning it and participating are two different things.”
“You got a whole fellowship to celebrate, sis. Then, you graduate. Be happy.”
“I know.” Aaliyah said.
“You begged us to come.”
“I know, bitch.” Aaliyah said.
“So…”
“I still don’t wanna put on lashes.”
Sanaa shook her head. “You don’t wanna sit and get your lashes done. And you don’t wanna put on the strip. Lazy.”
“I’m preserving my energy.”
Sanaa scuffed. “You sound eighty.”
“I feel eighty.”
A knock sounded through the apartment. Three quick raps. Before either woman could move, Erik stepped into the hallway.
He’d already showered too, but it seems he forgot to put on a shirt. And why are his athletic shorts dangerously low on his waist like that? The locs gathered up into a messy bun? A silver cross sitting between his pecs?
What the fuck?
“I got it.” He said.
He started toward the front door. Then, he looked up.
His eyes landed on Sanaa.
Everything inside him stalled for half a heartbeat. She wasn’t dressed up. She wasn’t even trying. She was standing there with messy hair, glasses, slippers, and gloss, lazily drinking matcha while sunlight poured across her skin.
Cute. Comfy. Entirely too familiar.
His gaze lingered just long enough for her to notice. She looked up over the rim of her glasses. Their eyes met. The corner of her mouth threatened to lift. Just a little.
He recovered first.
“I’ll get the door.”
His voice sounded perfectly normal.
Erik turned the handle. A delivery driver stood outside holding an oversized edible arrangement.
“Delivery for…Sanaa Carter?”
“Yeah. Thanks homie.”
The driver handed it over, offered a quick you’re welcome, and disappeared down the hallway. Erik nudged the door shut with his foot while balancing the arrangement in one hand. Chocolate covered strawberries. Pineapple flowers. Melon. Grapes. The whole thing sat in a decorative brown container wrapped with a bright green bow. As he walked toward the dining table, he spotted the small white envelope tucked between the fruit.
He pulled it free. Read it. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Hm.”
He set the arrangement down.
Both women immediately wandered over.
“Oooo,” Aaliyah sang. “Who got an Edible Arrangement?!”
Sanaa laughed. “Jordan with his sympathy gift.”
Erik looked at her. Then at the card. Then back at her. He held the card out. A slight curl of his plush top lip.
“It’s for you, Bri.”
Sanaa accepted it. Her brow lifted as she read it allowed.
“A sweet bouquet for a sweet girl. I hope this brightens your day, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Signed…Nathan.”
She smiled. Just a little. “Oh.”
Aaliyah gasped so dramatically she nearly dropped her drink. “Oooooooooooh!!!”
Sanaa rolled her eyes. “Girl.”
“No.” Aaliyah pointed at the arrangement. “Not him sending you and Edible Arrangement, bitch!”
Sanaa laughed. “He’s thoughtful.”
“He tryna say you edible, sis.”
Sanaa burst into laughter, nudging Aaliyah out of the way with her hip. “Aaliyah!”
“I’m serious! What he tryna say you taste like pineapples?”
She leaned closer to inspect one of the chocolate-covered strawberries. “Mhmmmm. You left your mark on him, Bri.”
Wanna shook her head, unable to stop smiling. “It is kinda sweet.”
“It is sweet. Thoughtful.” Aaliyah said.
She carefully lifted one of the pineapple flowers by the stem, admiring how it had been carved. “This is actually really pretty.”
Across the table, Erik stared at the arrangement like it had personally offended him. There was silence. Long silence. Then…
“…Fruit look old.”
The women turned toward him. Sanaa blinked. Aaliyah fought back a laugh.
“What?” Sanaa said.
Erik pointed. “That grape wrinkled.”
“It is not.”
“It definitely is. You got glasses in you can’t see that?”
Aaliyah squinted. “It kinda…”
Sanaa immediately defended the fruit. “It is not wrinkled.”
“It look tired.” Erik said.
Aaliyah giggled, staring between them.
Sanaa had to laugh herself. “Fruit get tired, E?”
Erik put his hands up, biceps flexing in a way that almost broke Sanaa’s composure.
“I’m just tellin’ you what I’m seein’.” He leaned slightly closer. “And then flowers…”
“What flowers?”
“The pineapple.”
Sanaa looked. “They’re cute.”
“They look like they wiltin’.”
Aaliyah turned away laughing quietly to herself.
“It’s carved fruit.”
“Mm.” Erik nodded once. “Cheap-ass edible plant.”
Sanaa folded her arms. “You a haterrr.”
“I ain’t hatin’.”
“You absolutely hatin’. On fruit though? If you wanted some all you had to do was ask, E.”
Aaliyah laughed so hard she grabbed the counter. “Oh my God.” She dabbed her eyes. “Whew! Ya’ll funny!”
Erik continued studying it with the same expression someone might reserve for a suspicious car engine.
“I’ve seen better strawberries.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“I’m honest.”
Sanaa picked up a chocolate-covered strawberry and held it toward him. “You want one, meany?”
“Nah.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive, B–” he caught himself. “Bri.”
“You don’t even know if it’s good and you judging.”
“I know enough.”
Sanaa took a bite instead. The chocolate cracked softly. Her eyes widened.
“Mmmm.”
Aaliyah immediately reached for one too. She took a bite, eyes widening. “Oh, that’s good! Fruit taste fresh to me.”
Erik watched both of them eating. Still unimpressed.
“…chocolate doin’ all the work—”
Sanaa laughed so hard she nearly choked. “You are a professional hater.”
“I call shit like I see it.” Erik fired back.
“You jealous of fruit, big bro?” Aaliyah teased.
“I ain’t jealous of shit. Give me a reason to be.”
“You sound jealous, E.” Sanaa said.
Erik looked at the arrangement one last time before shaking his head. “Hope the nigga kept the receipt.”
With that, he turned and walked into the living room as if the conversation had exhausted him. Behind him, the girls dissolved into another fit of laughter. From the sofa, Erik could see Sanaa on her phone. She brought it to her ear, and the minute she spoke Nathan’s name Erik’s jaw ticked.
He leaned back, picked up the TV remote, and stared at the blank screen without turning it on.
An Edible Arrangement? Out of everything that man could’ve sent…fruit.
Erik rubbed a hand over his beard.
Ain’t even send her flowers.
His eyes drifted toward the dining room where Sanaa was still smiling with the phone pressed to her ear while Aaliyah teased her.
His mouth flattened.
Cheap-ass fruit.
Another knock echoed through the apartment. Aaliyah looked up from the edible arrangement and grinned.
“That gotta be Naima.”
She hurried to the front door and pulled it open. Naima stepped inside with an overnight bag slung over one shoulder, dressed in an oversized white linen button-down over black slim-fit jeans and clean white sneakers. Her twist-out framed her face perfectly, her large almond eyes immediately finding the people gathered around the dining table.
“There she is,” Aaliyah said, wrapping her in a quick hug.
“Congratulations again, Fellowship Girl.”
“You gon’ make me cry.”
Naima smiled before making her rounds. She hugged Sanaa tightly.
“Hey, pretty.”
“Hey, Nai.”
She lifted a hand toward Erik. “Hey, Erik.”
He nodded once. “Naima.”
Her attention drifted to the centerpiece on the table.
“…Hold on.” She leaned in. “Who sent that?”
Aaliyah didn’t even give Sanaa a chance to answer. “Nathan.”
Naima’s eyebrows climbed. “Oh, he trying.”
Sanaa laughed, turning the little card over in her fingers. “I told you he’s sweet.”
“Mmm.” Naima examined one of the chocolate-covered strawberries. “He definitely scored some points.”
Aaliyah sighed dramatically, the smile slipping from her face.
“Meanwhile…” She folded her arms. “I’m officially done with Jordan.”
Naima’s expression softened immediately. Without saying a word, she rubbed slow circles across Aaliyah’s back.
“I know.”
Aaliyah let out a long breath. “I’m over it.”
“You keep saying that.”
“This time I mean it.”
Naima studied her for a second before hooking an arm through hers. “C’mon.”
“Where we going?”
“I need details.”
Aaliyah groaned. “I knew you was gon’ interrogate me.”
“Damn right.”
The two disappeared down the hallway toward Aaliyah’s bedroom, their voices fading behind a closing door. Sanaa watched them go with an amused smile before reaching for another chocolate-covered strawberry. From the living room, Erik glanced toward the edible arrangement again.
He still looked unconvinced.
______
Sanaa was sitting at the dining table, talking to Nathan on the phone. She had it on speaker, completely aware of Erik sitting in the living room. This felt like déjà vu. The last time she was talking on the phone with Nathan, she had a mouth full of Erik’s dick.
“Mhm. I wanted to tell you thank you. It was really sweet.”
“I’m glad it made it.”
“It definitely did.” Sanaa walked over and plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from the arrangement. “Aaliyah and I have already been picking at it.”
“So it passed inspection?”
“It passed with flying colors.”
She bit into the chocolate strawberry, eyes flicking over to Erik. He sat back, legs wide and swinging, eyeing her with an unblinking stare that did the opposite of what he intended it to do. It only made her pussy wet. When will he realize that those looks don’t get the reaction he’s looking for?
“I was hoping you’d like it.”
“I do. I really do.” Her voice softened. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Ya’ll going out tomorrow night right? For Aaliyah?”
Erik isn’t saying a word to her, but his eyes are locked on her, dark and tracking the way she smiles. The way she makes her voice all sweet. He grabs his phone beside him quick.
Her phone buzzes in her hand.
Erik: Come here Miss Carter.
Sanaa glances at him, a bratty smirk playing on her lips. She doesn’t move an inch, keeping her gaze fixed forward as she responds to Nathan. Sanaa smiled to herself before taking a bite of the strawberry.
“That’s dangerous.”
“What?”
“You getting thoughtful this early.”
Nathan laughed. “I didn’t realize kindness came with a waiting period.”
“I’m just saying…now you’re setting expectations.”
“I can live with that.”
She shook her head, smiling wider.
Buzz.
Erik: I ain’t gon ask you again. Get over here.
Sanaa bites her lip, feeling the heat radiating off him. She types back quickly, her thumb flying across the screen while Nathan continues to ramble.
Sanaa: Sorry daddy. Aaliyah and Naima. We can’t do nothing 😔
Erik’s expression doesn’t change, but his jaw tightens. He don’t give a fuck who in the apartment. The only thought running through his mind is her disobeying him.
Erik: I don’t give a fuck about that, Bri. If you don’t move that ass over here right now, I’m a come get you. And I won’t be gentle about it.
Sanaa shivers, her pussy giving a sudden, wet throb. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her chest, imagining those huge, calloused hands gripping her waist and tossing her over his shoulder.
Sanaa: You so damn dramatic lol. All because he sent me fruit 😂. Mad you got competition?
Erik lets out a low, silent huff of a laugh. He shifts his weight, the fabric of his shorts straining against the thick, heavy length of his dick. He remembers last night clearly. The way she’d taken him, the raw, desperate energy of it. The bounce of that ass. The creamy mess. Nathan ain’t got shit on him.
Erik: Since you wanna play...tell me something. Why you ride my dick like that last night? Huh?
Sanaa’s breath hitches. She almost forgets to answer Nathan.
“You know,” he continued, “I remembered you saying you liked fruit more than candy, so it seemed like an easy decision.”
“You remembered that?”
“Course I did.”
“See…” she teased. “Now you showing off.”
“Nah. I just pay attention.”
Sanaa: I don’t know what you’re talking about 😇 I’m innocent.
Erik: Stop fucking playing. You was shaking. Taking every inch of this dick like you was starving for it. You rode me until I was seeing stars, then you just...left.
Sanaa: I didn't leave. I just finished.
Erik: Finished? You left me leaking all over myself. My chest, my stomach...just a fucking mess of cum cuz you decided you was done.
Sanaa feels a surge of power, remembering the look on his face—the ruthless soldier reduced to a shaking, overstimulated mess because of her. She types back, her voice sounding breathy as she tells Nathan, “Well…thank you. Seriously. It made my day.”
Sanaa: You liked it. you loved how much of a mess I made of you. Let’s not play pretend Killmonger.
Erik:Thing is I ain’t gotta pretend. I loved it. Now I wanna do it back. I wanna see you dripping.
He watches her, his eyes dropping to her legs. He knows exactly what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t. Them yoga pants and got no panties underneath.
Erik: Stand up.
Sanaa: what? Nathan is still talking 😒
Erik: Fuck that nigga. Stand up and put some shorts on.
Sanaa looked back at Erik. The risk of Aaliyah walking in is high, but the look in Erik’s eyes tells her that if she don’t obey, he’s going to stop texting and start taking.
Sanaa: you a menace. 😩
Erik: And that pussy wet. Now move.
Sanaa slipped into her room, her heart hammering against her ribs. She took off her yoga pants and grabbed a pair of thin, grey cotton shorts. Exactly what Erik wanted. Way too small, the fabric stretched tight over her curves and designed to ride up the second she moved. She slid them on, completely bottomless underneath. Waxed pussy lips against the crotch of the shorts. They clung to her hips and barely covered the swell of her bubble booty.
On her way out of the room, she could have sworn she’d heard a sharp intake of breath coming from Aaliyah’s room.
Sanaa brushed it off as she walked back out into the living area, her walk nothing but bow legs and cheeks swaying, knowing exactly how the fabric was hiking up. Erik was waiting, his massive frame lounging back, but his eyes were like lasers, tracking the way her cheeks peeked out from under the hem.
On the speakerphone, Nathan’s voice was smooth, oblivious.
“So,” he asked, “does this mean I earned another date?”
She laughed. “You asking or assuming?”
“I’m asking. Confidently.”
“You coming out tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
The moment the words “see you tonight” left Nathan’s mouth, Erik’s expression darkened. A flicker of pure, possessive rage crossed his face. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck cording. He didn’t like the idea of Nathan touching what belonged to him, especially not when he had her dripping and desperate right here. Wearing the shorts he told her to put on. Looking down at him like she knew who lap she was sitting in.
Without a word, Erik reached out and gripped her hip, yanking her forward with a strength that left no room for argument. He guided her to straddle his right thigh. He was wearing loose athletic shorts, the fabric thin enough that she could feel the radiating heat of his skin and the rock-hard density of the muscle beneath. As she settled onto him, Erik ain’t waste a second. He brought both of his massive hands up, cupping the cheeks of her ass and squeezing the flesh with a bruising grip. He started to rub, his palms kneading her curves, pushing the thin fabric of her shorts deep into her crack. He was marking her, claiming every inch of her skin while another man’s voice filled the room.
"Sanaa? You still with me?" Nathan asked.
Sanaa gasped, her voice hitching. “Yeah...yeah, I–I’m here, Nathan.”
Erik leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, then his tongue darted out to flick her earlobe, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that only she could feel. “Don’t let him hear you shake, you just might hurt his feelings, baby,” he whispered, the command cutting through her.
He shifted his grip. He took one large hand and pressed it firmly against the small of her lower back, pinning her against him. With the other hand, he kept a tight, controlling grip on her hip. He didn’t just want her to move, he wanted her to work for it.
“Roll your spine,” he breathed into her ear, his voice thick with authority. “Grind it. I wanna feel every bit of that wet pussy rubbing against me. Right fuckin’ now. Before I let your little nigga know his crush gettin’ slutted out by her best friend brother.”
Chills.
Sanaa obeyed, her body trembling. She began to arch her back, rolling her hips in a slow, circular motion. Because he was wearing shorts, there was almost no barrier. The hard, ridged muscle of his quad pressed directly into her clit and the opening of her pussy. It felt like rubbing herself against a warm, living pillar of granite. Every time she rolled her hips, the friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, making her internal muscles clench violently.
Erik watched her face with a sly smirk. The one with the single dimple peeking. The one that drove Sanaa crazy. He loved the way her eyes fluttered, the way she bit her lip to keep from moaning. But even in the height of the grind, the soldier in him remained vigilant. His eyes flicked toward the hallway, scanning for any sign of Aaliyah or Naima, his instincts honed for stealth and surveillance. The risk of being caught only added to the filth of it.
“Sanaa, you sound...distracted. Everything aight?” Nathan asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.
“I’m—I’m good. What were you saying?”
“Nothing important, just saying shit. Hahaha…so uh…what you doin’?”
Mm—uh, reading. Reading—uhhh, sorry the words are like bluring together right now I think I might need a nap.”
Erik quietly laughed, then whispered. “Nasty ass Edible Arrangement.”
Sanaa’s giggle was muffled against Erik’s neck.
“I don’t want you falling asleep on the phone, Sanaa. Get your beauty rest, baby girl.”
Erik presses his lips to her ear. “Listen to him...talkin’ all that sweet shit. Does he know you shakin’ for me right now? Does he know how wet you are for a real man?” Erik kissed along her jaw. “Answer him, Sanaa. Tell him you’re ‘just relaxin’ While you grindin’ on my thigh...tell him how relaxed you are.”
“I’m just really relaxed right now.” Sanaa watched Erik’s hands smooth up her thighs to cup her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples through her sports bra. “Really…I…mmm.”
“Mmm? What type of relaxin’ you doin’, girl?” Nathan chuckled.
Erik’s hand on her back pressed harder, forcing her to grind deeper, more aggressively. He flexed his thigh muscle, the hard mass pulsing upward, driving directly into her sensitive spot. But right there. Beside his thigh. His dick that’s equal parts long and thick, pulsed and jumped. This lil’ freaky bitch get him so fired up. He flared his nostrils, eyes fixed on her with that low, hazy look, high off her body working his thigh.
Sanaa looked down at his dick. Her breath hitched.
“Woah…Sanaa?”
“Mhm.” Sanaa buried her face in Erik’s neck.
“Are you…I don’t wanna assume shit but uh…are you…touching yourself?”
“Go ‘head, baby. Tell him you’re thinkin’ about him. Tell him while you feel my dick twitch against your leg...tell him he’s the only thing on your mind.”
He was really playing right now. Sanaa wasn’t about to back down. She licked her lips, her gaze locked with Erik’s while she spoke.
Sanaa bites her bottom lip. “You’re the only thing on my mind, Nathan…” her fingers crept down until they settled on the stiff pole sitting between his legs. He was hot to the touch. “I’m thinking about you…”
“Damn…really? And what are you doin’ that got you thinkin’ about me?”
“You shakin’, lil’ mama. Is that for him? Or is it ‘cause you know I’m about to make you leak all over these floors the second you hang up?”
“Sanaa?”
“Ride it for real,” Erik whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "Put your weight into it. Show me how much you want this. Who you think you is teasing me? Huh? Nah…you teasing him. Got him thinkin’ you touching yourself to thoughts of him…ttsk…such a bad girl, Sanaa…”
Sanaa let out a muffled whimper, her hips jumping in a desperate effort. She was riding his thigh like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, her pussy soaking the thin fabric of her shorts and moistening his thigh. The feeling was overwhelming. The combination of his commanding presence, the rough texture of the shorts, and the sheer power of his leg beneath her. She felt small, fragile, and completely dominated.
Sanaa tried to lean away for a second, her bratty instinct wanting to tease him, but Erik’s grip tightened, snapping her back against him. He placed both hands on her waist and repositioned her on his thigh.
“I ain’t tell you to stop,” Erik growled softly, his voice a warning. “Keep grindin’. Every time he speaks, you move faster. You my little toy right now, and you gon’ do exactly what the fuck I say.”
“I’m thinkin’ about what I’d let you do to m–me when I see you.” Sanaa managed to stammer out to Nathan, her voice trembling.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Erik accelerated the pace, his thigh flexing upward in a punishing motion that forced her to bounce. She was jumping on his thigh now, her pussy slamming against the hard muscle with every movement. The friction was intense, bordering on too much pressure, but it was the kind of ache that made her crave him more.
She was right on the edge, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. She looked into Erik’s eyes and saw the absolute control he held over her. He wasn’t just fucking her with his leg. He was breaking her will, reminding her that no matter who she talked to or where she went, she belonged to the soldier.
Sanaa’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, bratty spark. She didn’t just want to be dominated. She wanted to push Erik until he snapped, to see that disciplined soldier persona crumble into raw, possessive rage. With a sudden, fluid movement, Sanaa lifted off his thigh and straddled his lap completely. She sat down heavy on him, her pussy pressing directly against the massive, rock-hard bulge stretching the fabric of his shorts. She leaned back slightly, her chest heaving, the phone pressed to her ear. Her voice changed. It became honeyed, dripping with a fake, innocent sweetness that was designed to drive Erik insane.
“I can’t wait to get you back to my room. I really want to see what you’re working with…see if you can handle me.”
As the words left her lips, Sanaa began to move. She didn’t just move, she started pressing her weight down, rotating her hips so that her clit rubbed directly against the thick, veined lengths of his dick through the cloth. She was grinding her pussy over his fat bulge, seeking every inch of that hard pipe, her eyes locked onto Erik’s.
Erik went completely still. His body became a statue of coiled muscle, his hands gripping the edges of the seat so hard his knuckles bulged like they were trying to break skin. He didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes—dark, hooded, and burning—were fixed on her face. He watched her lips move, heard her offer herself to another man, all while she used his own dick as a rubbing post. The mixture of rage and arousal in Erik’s gaze was suffocating. He looked like he wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her into a fucked-out coma right there.
On the other end of the line, Nathan’s voice came through, sounding warm, eager, and completely oblivious to the filth happening on the other side.
“You killin’ me, Sanaa,” Nathan chuckled, his tone respectful but clearly aroused. “Trust me, I can handle you. I’m gonna take my time with you…make sure you’re completely taken care of. I wanna make you feel everything.”
Sanaa let out a soft, shaky moan, one that sounded like it was for Nathan, but was actually a reaction to the way Erik’s dick twitched beneath her. She increased the pace, grinding harder, her hips snapping forward to rock her pussy against the tip of his dick. She was practically begging for him to break, her eyes challenging him, daring him to drop her or take her.
“Mmm, you sound so confident,” Sanaa whispered into the phone, her voice breaking as she felt Erik’s hardness pulse against her. “I hope you can keep that same energy when I’m under you. I’m a lot to handle, Nathan…I don’t know if you’re ready for me.”
Nathan let out a low, breathy laugh. “Try me. I’ll show you exactly what I’m capable of. I’m counting down the hours until I can get my hands on you.”
Erik’s jaw clenched so tight a vein popped in his temple. He could smell that wet ass pussy leaking through her thin shorts and soaking into his own. The fact that she was using his dick to get herself off while promising herself to that little nigga was a level of disrespect that made his blood boil.
She was selling him a false story because ain’t no fucking way Nathan getting his hands on Sanaa.
Erik’s hand suddenly shot up, his thick fingers wrapping firmly around the back of her neck. His grip was a silent command. He pulled her head back slightly, forcing her to look down at him while she continued to grind on his bulge. His eyes told her everything: you think this a game? You think you’re in control? Just wait until I get this phone out of your hand.
“I’m gon’ fuck the memory of that nigga right out your head. You won’t even remember how to spell his name by the time I’m done wit’ you.” Erik whispered.
On the other end of the line, Nathan was completely caught in her web, his voice thick with a hunger he didn’t realize was being fueled by another man’s dick.
“Sanaa…damn, I can practically feel you, baby,” Nathan groaned, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m literally counting down the seconds. I’m gonna make you scream my name tomorrow night.”
Sanaa let out a shaky, breathy laugh, her hips rolling in a slow, agonizing circle over Erik’s bulge. The sheer size of him stretching the material of his shorts. She looked Erik dead in the eyes, her expression a mix of bratty defiance and raw lust.
“Mmm, I wish I could stay on the phone, Nathan,” she whispered, her voice dripping with a fake regret that made Erik’s grip on her neck tighten. “But I gotta hang up now. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Already?” Nathan sounded genuinely bummed, his disappointment palpable. He was clearly hard as a rock on the other end, left hanging by the very woman who was currently using a soldier’s dick as a rubbing post for her kitty. “You’re killing me, Sanaa. Seriously.” He paused, his tone transitioning to something more possessive. “You owe me for this. Big time.”
“I know I do,” Sanaa cooed, and then she clicked the phone off.
Sanaa tossed her phone quick fast and with a renewed hunger she crushed her pussy against the thick ridge of his dick, tilting her pelvis so that her clit could get most of the friction.
Erik’s voice came out as a low, dangerous growl, vibrating against her chest. “You a little liar, ain’t you?” He hissed. “Lying to that lil’ nigga, telling him you gin’ give him some pussy…knowing damn well you ain’t giving him a fucking drop of what belongs to me.”
“Oh, so this pussy belongs to you now? Since when?”
Erik brought his hand around to the front of her neck now. Sanaa gasped, her back arching as she rolled her hips, feeling the head of his dick press firmly against her clit each time she drew her hips back. The sensation was electric.
“Tell me the truth, you fuckin’ brat,” Erik commanded, his other hand gripping her waist with a bruising force. He dug his fingers into her hip, anchoring her. “Who…” Erik rolled his hips up. “Pussy…” he did it again, his dick sliding between her pussy lips through her shorts. “Is…” when he did it again, Sanaa’s breath caught. “This…”
Sanaa bit her lip, eyes fluttering as she ground down harder, pussy clenching in a desperate need to be filled. “Yours,” she whimpered, the word barely a whisper. “It’s yours, Killmonger…”
His nervous system shifted to DEFCON without asking his permission. The sensation hit him the way a snapped tripwire hits a man who’s survived enough war to know the explosion always comes a heartbeat later.
“That’s right,” he grunted, his voice getting nastier. “Grinding that lil’ pussy on this dick so good like that. Fuck…you ridin’ my lap like you need me to nut just like this…”
“You tryna stop me or you tryna fuck me, Mr. Killmonger?”
His dick was so hard. So hard. Erik couldn’t even remember being dry humped. But the way she was doing it…
“You talk tough but this pussy got you holdin’ your breath.” She leans in, tongue darting out to lick the side of his face, “This the part where you grip me, bend me, and fuck the brat outta me, right? You don’t gotta pull it out yet…let me tease it a little first…”
“You know what you doin’. That’s the part that fuck me up.” Erik whispered.
Sanaa didn’t answer with words, she answered with a deep roll of her pelvis, sliding her wetness across the length of him. She could feel the way his dick jumped against her clit.
Erik stared at her, his eyes a dark mixture of lust and genuine disbelief. “I don’t even know how the fuck you this fine.” He muttered, his voice raw. “It don’t make no fucking sense how you look this good while being this nasty.”
Sanaa leaned in closer to his face, her lips almost brushing his, tilting her head with a slow blink and a bite of her lip.
“I know I’m special…you remember how it sounded the first time I creamed on your dick, daddy?”
Erik’s jaw flexed and his nostrils flared. “I laid your little ass out. That was supposed to be the only time you get this dick…”
“If it was only supposed to be one time…why your dick tryna talk to me again?”
Inside his own body, the pressure was building to a breaking point. Erik could feel the blood gorging his dick, making it feel oversized and tight, the skin stretched to its absolute limit. Every time she dipped her hips, pressing her weight down on him, he felt the blunt force of her pelvic bone hitting his pubic bone, a heavy thud that vibrated through his entire body. The stiffness was an ache, a demanding, throbbing need to burst through the barrier and bury himself deep in her little pussy. He felt pre-cum leaking from his tip, lubricating the friction, making the slide of her pussy against him feel smoother, filthier, and more urgent.
Erik watched her face—the bratty, confident look she wore—and it only made his dick twitch harder. He could feel the pulsing of his own heartbeat in his dick, a heavy, thumping cadence that matched the pace of her grinding. The sensation of her radiating through the cloth, the way she seemed to mold herself perfectly to the curve of his dick, made him feel like he was being consumed.
“You feel that, daddy?” Sanaa whispered, her lips grazing his earlobe. “You feel how fucking wet I am for you? I want you to stretch me out again…say the word and I’ll slide this pussy on, daddy…real slow. Or you scared of it now?”
Erik’s eyes flicked toward the hall when he heard faint laughter coming from Aaliyah’s room.
“Sanaa…you don’t want this smoke. Say one more thing, I swear to God—”
Sanaa spread her legs wider to get a deeper, more direct friction, her pussy gripping the bulge of his dick through the barrier of her shorts and his. She let out a soft, shaky moan, her eyes locking onto his with a bratty glint.
“Nathan thinks he’s getting this pussy tomorrow night,” she breathed, a cruel, sexy little smile playing on her lips. “He’s probably sitting there right now, thinking about my pussy… not knowing that it’s been stretched out by your dick. Not knowing that I’m grinding on you so hard I can feel your heart beating in your balls…” She rolled her hips in a tight circle, making sure he felt every inch of her soaking heat. She leaned back, her spine curving, her glossy lips parted as she looked down at him, her voice becoming a provocative command. “Tell me you love it. Tell me you love knowing that I’m lying to that nigga just so I can feel you inside me. You like knowing that I’d rather have this big, mean dick than anything he could ever give me, don’t you?”
Erik’s grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, but Sanaa didn’t flinch. She leaned back in, her voice dropping even lower, becoming a seductive poison.
“I can feel you shaking, Killmonger. You’re so fucking hard for me. Does it drive you crazy? Knowing that I’m your little slut, but right now…right now I’m the one ruining you? I’m the one making you lose your fucking mind while I just… slide…right…here.”
Erik grunts deep in his throat. She whispered against his skin, her voice thick with lust.
“You scared of gettin’ caught or you scared you’ll nut in your shorts? Don’t front, daddy. You need this more than I do.” She nipped at his earlobe, her breath erratic. “I’m such a little slut for you, aren’t I? Just a little wet, needy slut who needs her Daddy to take control and fuck the lie right out of her. Do it, Erik. Tell me how much you hate that I’m this fine. Tell me how much you want to punish me for teasing you. How much you wanna break this young pussy open—”
He couldn’t bring himself to lift her ass off his lap. He could have her on her back in seconds. Folded. Pinned. But he couldn’t move. Erik couldn’t.
“Aw…Killmonger don’t talk now? This all that death name come with?”
Erik’s eyes were like missiles aimed at her. Dark pools of primal energy. But the way his brows pinched. The way his lips poked out. The shaky exhale. He was close.
He stopped letting her do all the work. Erik moved, his powerful thighs flexing as he began to thrust upward, meeting her downward grinds with a punishing force. Now they were humping each other, a frantic collision of cloth and flesh. The friction was intense, the desire between them building into a fever pitch.
Sanaa leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath hot and erratic. She let out a muffled moan, trying to stay quiet but failing as the pressure on her clit became unbearable.
“Oh god, daddy…that big dick feel so fucking good against me,” she whimpered into his ear, her voice a seductive poison designed to ruin him. “I’m so happy…I finally have the dick I’ve always dreamed of. I don’t want that other shit. I want this…I want your big, thick dick stretching me out until I can’t walk.”
Erik let out a guttural grunt, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He was shaking, his muscles coiled like a spring, the sheer audacity of her words pushing him to the absolute edge. He gripped her waist even tighter, lifting her slightly so he could slam his bulge upward into her pussy with a heavy, calculated impact that made her vision blur. His face contorted into a mask of pure, unfiltered need. A look Sanaa began to crave ever since she rode his dick. Those lips parted. His eyes tracking every flicker of pleasure on her face. His locs framing his jaw, giving him a rugged look. Then he sank his teeth into his lower lip.
The friction between them is pushed them both to the edge. Their mouths locked in a filthy, wet collision, tongues tangling and fighting for dominance as they kiss like freaks, swapping saliva and breath in a frantic battle. Every slide of their bodies, every press of cloth against cloth, only heightens the agony of the barrier between them.
Sanaa breaks the kiss just a fraction, her lips still brushing against his, her breath hitching. “Please...Killmonger," she whispers, her voice a broken, needy wreck. “Make me cum. Please make my pussy cum.”
Erik answers with force. His large, calloused hands snap shut around her hips, fingers digging into her skin to still her frantic movements. He takes total control, repositioning his weight to align his thick, stiff dick perfectly against her clit. He gives one heavy, punishing grind, the sheer size of his dick pressing through the fabric and crushing into her sensitive nub. The way his biceps flexed and his thick forearms corded with veins maneuvered and controlled Sanaa’s little frame over his dick made her feel small and fragile. She had no choice but to give in, bracing herself on his shoulders.
Sanaa lets out a muffled cry, her face buried against his neck while he palms her ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh tight and forcing her to grind down hard against him. He’s not letting her just ride the wave, he’s driving her into it. He forces her hips to rotate, ensuring every inch of his length rubs against her, the friction creating a searing heat that makes her vision blur.
“That's it, lil’ freak bitch.” Erik groans, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as she buries her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. “I’m a drag this pussy all on my dick…give you what you need…spread your legs…nah…spread ‘em…”
As he continues to grind her into him, Erik feels the pressure building in his gut, that familiar, lethal tension that signals the end. He’s too far gone, his own pleasure spiking into something aggressive and overwhelming. He leans in, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against her ear, telling her exactly what's happening.
“I’m ‘bout to bust, Sanaa. I’m right there,” he pants, his breath hot and ragged. “You makin’ me lose it. I’m ‘bout to nut all in these shorts...soak through everything just for you.”
The verbal confirmation is the final trigger. Sanaa’s walls tighten, her pussy clenching violently as a massive, shaking orgasm rips through her. She collapses against him, her body vibrating in his lap, her moans turning into breathless whimpers as she peaks.
“Damn, girl—fuuck—”
The sight and feel of her cumming sends Erik over the cliff. He erupts. The orgasm is a violent, pulsing explosion that rocks his entire frame. As the first thick jet of cum slams into the fabric of his shorts, the intensity is so sharp, so overwhelming, that he instinctively snaps his jaw shut, biting down on the meat of her shoulder to stifle the guttural roar that threatens to tear from his throat.
He holds her there, pinned and shaking, his dick twitching against her as he pumps load after load of hot, sticky cum into his shorts, the fabric becoming heavy and soaked between them. He stays buried in her neck, teeth still grazing her skin, breathing like a wounded animal while the aftershocks of the nut leave them both completely wrecked.
The friction had been relentless, a grinding war of hips and heat that left them both breathless. For a few seconds, they just breathed, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Then, with a playful, feline smirk, Sanaa slid off him. She didn’t longer, she simply stepped back, the wetness between her legs clinging to her shorts, and started walking away down the hallway.
Erik blinked, his chest heaving and his eyes tracking the sway of her hips. The sudden lack of her warm, wet pussy left him wired and agitated.
“Where the fu k you going?” He called out, his voice commanding and laced with a hint of disbelief.
Sanaa stopped and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes hooded and teasing, a bratty glint in her gaze. “To my room, Erik.” She answered simply, her voice a soft, provocative slur.
Erik stood and walked up on her in that hall. The tension snapped back into place instantly.
“You got me doing risky shit. I don’t move like this.” Erik whispered, looming over her like the JSOC Ghost he is.
“I’m a rare soul, Erik. You don’t just enter my life the same. That’s the kinda effect I have.” Sanaa cooed.
Sanaa leaned against the wall, her gaze dropping to the front of his shorts.
“Let me see,” she whispered, her voice dripping with curiosity.
Erik reached down, grabbing the waistband of his shorts and pulling them forward. The athletic fabric was drenched, a heavy stain of cum spreading across the inside crotch and clinging to the shape of his dick and the buzz cut of his pubic hair. Despite having just finished, he was still brick hard. A thick, veiny pipe straining against the wet fabric, twitching with a life of its own.
Sanaa’s breath hitched. The sight of his masculine power, even in the aftermath, sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to her pussy.
“You do things to my body I can’t even shake,” Sanaa whispered with a soft sigh.
Erik stepped into her space, his large frame looming over her, erasing the distance. He reached down, his hand sliding firmly down the front of her loose shorts. He didn’t tease, he pressed his palm flat against her pussy, rubbing her soaked folds and teasing her clit. He withdrew his hand, fingers glistening and dripping with her cream. Without breaking eye contact, Erik brought his fingers to his lips, slowly sucking the mess off them, his tongue swirling around his fingers so filthy.
Sanaa whimpered, her legs turning to jelly.
Erik leaned in, crashing his lips onto hers in a kiss that tasted like her pussy. His tongue invaded her mouth with the same aggression he used in every other part of their dynamic.
Suddenly, the sound of loud laughter at the door to Aaliyah’s room broke them apart instantly, the spell shattered by the threat of discovery. Erik’s eyes darkened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, but his instincts kicked in. He stepped back, glancing toward the bathroom.
Go in your room.” He commanded in a low, urgent whisper.
Sanaa slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her. Erik vanished into the bathroom, leaving the hallway empty just as the door to Aaliyah’s room swung open.
______
Aaliyah’s room was a scene of girly chaos. They’d set up a makeshift hairdresser. Hair serum, edge control, moose, brushes, and Bobby pins. It also gave the cluttered energy of a college dorm. Aaliyah was draped in an oversized Howard University sweatshirt that swallows her frame, paired with tiny sleep shorts and thick, fuzzy socks that keep her toes warm. She’s sitting on the floor between Naima’s legs, watching Dream Girls on her iPad while played in the background. Naima was focused and meticulous, wearing a pair of loose pajama pants and a tight baby tee. Her fingers are nimble, weaving and Styling Aaliyah’s hair into a sleek low bun for their night out tomorrow.
The door creaks open and Sanaa slips in, radiating a fresh, clean scent. She needed another shower after cumming all in her shorts. Her skin is glowy and damp. She’s swallowed up by an oversized Mindless Behavior T-shirt that hits mid-thigh, her wilds curls gathered and held in place by a bright, hot pink claw clip. Her turquoise tortoise shell glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose, and her bare feet pad softly across the floor. She drops in the center of the room, crossing her arms and tilting her head with a look of playful suspicion.
“What ya’ll plotting in here?” She asks, her voice teasing as if she knows there’s some secret being kept.
Aaliyah laughs, glancing back at her in the mirror. “Girl, please. Naima is just trying to make sure I don’t look like a mess tomorrow. Come sit your ass down.”
Sanaa chuckles and drops onto the edge of the bed, kicking her feet back. The three of them settle into comfortable conversation, drifting through the usual chaos of campus drama—who was seen with who at the library, which professor is failing half the class, and the latest tea from the sorority row. The vibe is relaxed. That only comes with close friends.
Suddenly, the playlist on the speaker goes from soulful to ratchet. The heavy, distorted bass of “WAP” by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion kicks in, filling the room with its aggressive, explicit energy. Aaliyah doesn’t miss a beat. She starts rapping along, her voice getting louder and more confident as the lyrics get filthier. She’s leaning into it, using her hands to emphasize the lines about wet ass pussy and doing kegels while it’s inside, her energy matching the song’s unapologetic sexuality. Then a dance breaks out. And it’s nothing but ass shaking. Aaliyah on her knees popping booty while Naima stands with a brush in her hand and her tongue poked out, bending over to shake her little cheeks.
Sanaa, seeing the opportunity for future blackmail, quietly pulls out her phone. She keeps it low, angled just right to capture Aaliyah’s passionate performance, a smirk playing on her lips as she records the whole thing.
As the song fades out, Naima looks over, noticing the phone in Sanaa's hand. “Wait, did you get that? Let me see!”
Sanaa, still riding the high of the song and not thinking twice, hands it over to Naima. Naima starts scrolling through the camera roll to find the video, but her thumb freezes. Her eyes widen, and she stops dead in her tracks. She ain’t looking at a video of Aaliyah rapping.
On the screen is a crystal-clear, explicit video of Sanaa on her knees, her eyes staring up into the camera as she greedily sucks a thick, hard dick, her cheeks hollowing as she takes as much of the shaft as she can handle. Then there’s the voice of the man that carries all that dick coaching her in the back.
Naima’s jaw drops, and she snaps her head up to look at Sanaa, her voice exploding in a mix of shock and hilarity.
“BITCH!” Naima screams, holding the phone up like a piece of evidence. “You got a video of you sucking dick in your phone?! You nasty bitch!”
“WAP” suddenly didn’t matter anymore.
Naima is frozen, her eyes glued to the screen of Sanaa’s phone. On the display, the image is raw and unmistakable. Sanaa, her head tilted back, her eyes blinking in a trance of pure pleasure, her mouth stretched wide as she greedily takes a massive, vein-riven dick into her throat. The video captures the wet, sucking sound of her lips gliding over a spit-covered dick and the way her cheeks hollow out as she sucks the thick beast.
Sanaa’s heart hammers against her ribs like a trapped bird. A cold spike of adrenaline shoots through her veins, turning her blood to ice. For a split second, she forgets where she is, her mind flashing back to the way Erik stretched her mouth for the first time. The panic hits her instantly—a visceral, choking wave. If Aaliyah sees this, it’s not just about the act; it’s about who it is.
Sanaa lunges. It’s a blur of motion, the oversized Mindless Behavior shirt fluttering around her thighs as she dives across the bed. Her fingers scramble, clawing at Naima’s grip, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps.
“Give it back! Naima, give me my damn phone!” Sanaa hisses, her voice strained and bordering on a plea. She isn’t playing anymore; the playful suspicion from earlier is replaced by a genuine, wide-eyed terror. She can’t let Aaliyah see.
Naima, caught up in the shock and the thrill of the find, holds the phone just out of reach, gawking at the screen one last time. She’s mesmerized by the filth of it, the raw sexuality of her friend being completely undone by a man’s dick.
But Sanaa is faster. With a desperate swipe, she manages to snatch the device from Naima’s hand, clutching it to her chest as if it were a lifeline. She pulls back, her chest heaving, her turquoise glasses sliding slightly down her nose.
Aaliyah is sitting still on the floor, her expression unreadable. She didn’t seen the video, but she saw the reaction. She saw the panic in Sanaa’s eyes. A look that didn’t match the confidence Sanaa usually wore like armor. Aaliyah slowly turns her head, her gaze locking onto Sanaa.
“So…” Aaliyah starts, her voice low and calculating. “Nathan was over here then?”
There is a suspicion in Aaliyah’s eyes, a silent realization that there is a side to Sanaa’s life that is far more secretive and intense than a fintech worker from Bowie could ever provide. Sanaa doesn’t respond. She can’t. Her throat feels tight, her mind racing. She just stands there, the phone still pressed against her heart, the secret of Erik Killmonger burning a hole through the screen.
Naima, sensing the tension shifting from hilarity to something more serious, rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively. She leans back, trying to break the spell.
“Girl, please,”Naima says, glancing at Aaliyah. “It’s just a little dick sucking. Since when did we become the morality police? How many times have we exchanged photos asking if our nudes were sexy enough to send? We all get it in. Sanaa just happened to record the evidence.”
Naima laughs, trying to bring the vibe back to the casual, sisterly bond they shared minutes ago. Sanaa slowly exhales, but she doesn’t let go of the phone.
Aaliyah giggles, the tension from a moment ago dissolving back into the easy, chaotic energy. She shakes her head, a playful smirk dancing on her lips as she watches Sanaa clutch the device. “You hanging on to that phone for dear life, girl,” Aaliyah jokes, her voice light but still carrying a hint of curiosity. “Is Nathan’s dick that big, sis?”
Naima bursts out laughing, the sound loud and unfiltered, and Aaliyah joins in, the two of them sharing a moment of sisterly mockery.
Sanaa feels the adrenaline finally begin to recede, though her heart is still drumming a frantic beat against her ribs. She knows she’s walked a razor's edge, but she’s a master of the pivot. She lets out a forced but convincing laugh, leaning back and finally loosening her grip on the phone, though she keeps it firmly tucked away.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” Sanaa quips, her voice regaining that bratty, confident edge.
Aaliyah’s eyes widen, her jaw nearly dropping. “SINCE WHEN?” she exclaims, leaning forward. “Since when did you become the vault? Give us the tea!”
Naima, ever the instigator and still buzzing from the visual she just witnessed on the screen, clears her throat loudly. She looks at Aaliyah with a look of pure revelation. “Well, if you must know, Liyah...the dick Sanaa was sucking is fucking HUGE—”
“Girl, hush!” Sanaa cuts her off sharply, her voice a mix of a laugh and a command. She can’t let Naima describe the sheer, vein-riven scale of Erik’s dick to his sister! No. No, no, no, no way. Quick as a flash, Sanaa scans the room for a distraction, her eyes landing on the nightstand. A mischievous glint enters her eyes as she spots a familiar shape and the crisp, fresh look of the bedding.
“Can we change the subject?” Sanaa asks, her tone shifting to one of playful accusation. “Like, why is your rose vibrator just sitting out in the open? And why the hell do I see brand new bed sheets?”
The room goes dead silent. The laughter vanishes instantly, replaced by a heavy, awkward stillness. Naima and Aaliyah freeze, exchanging a wide-eyed, look that speaks volumes. They don’t say a word, their silence acting as a loud, vibrating confession.
Sanaa looks between the two of them, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. She lets out a loud, knowing laugh, leaning in with a smirk. “It’s no secret y’all been bumping coochies—”
“SHUT UP, BRI!” Naima and Aaliyah scream in perfect unison, their faces flushing a deep shade of red.
The absurdity of the moment breaks the dam, and all three girls collapse into a fit of hysterical laughter, the secret of the video momentarily buried under the weight of the new, scandalous revelation. Sanaa laughs the hardest, feeling the thrill of the diversion, though in the back of her mind, she can still feel the ghost of Erik’s dominance, knowing that while she’s laughing with her friends, she belongs to a man who would ruin her for even thinking about sharing him.
The thoughts that ran through her mind…
“Just let him hit it once…just once…” “I bet he’d talk me through it…say all that nasty shit while I cum on him…” “He probably strokes slow, deep…makes you say thank you when he nut…” “That dick would make me cry…and I’d say thank you for it.” “Please, Erik…please fuck me…”
To actually live in that reality now was an understatement.
The only thing missing…is “I wonder if he can make me squirt?”
The sound of footsteps through the hallway immediately made Sanaa’s pulse spike.
Erik stepped into the doorway, filling the frame with his massive presence. He looked effortless but lethal, dressed in a matching grey hoodie and sweats that left the hard, expansive lines of his muscles to your imagination. His locs were tucked neatly beneath the hood, framing a face that looked tired but remained intensely focused. A black duffle bag was slung carelessly over one shoulder, his weight shifted onto one leg, sporting a fresh pair of Jordans.
“Ya’ll eat yet?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in Sanaa's chest. “Cuz I was thinkin’ ‘bout orderin’ in.”
“Yes! We got food already. Some pizza.” Aaliyah said.
“I just ate that leftover chicken and rice we made earlier in the week.” Sanaa replied.
“Bet,” Erik’s eyes scanned the room. “You don’t clean up in here at all, do you?”
Sanaa was frozen, her turquoise glasses sliding slightly down her nose as her eyes dragged over him with hunger. She traced the breadth of his shoulders, the way the grey fabric stretched across his chest, and the sheer size of him compared to the room. She felt a familiar, hot ache bloom between her thighs, her pussy clenching just at the sight of him.
Naima, always the curious one, leaned forward, her eyes scanning the glimpses of rugged skin peeking from his collar. “Erik, what do those scars actually mean? Like, where’d they come from?”
Aaliyah let out a short, knowing laugh, leaning back against her pillows. “Don't bother, Nai. He won’t tell you. He’s too mysterious for his own good.”
Erik’s lips quirked into a sharp, knowing smirk. He didn’t even look at Naima, his gaze was locked onto Sanaa, pinning her in place. “What she said,” he spoke, his voice dripping with a playful, dangerous confidence.
He turned to leave, but he didn’t just walk away. He began backing down the hall, keeping his eyes locked on Sanaa’s. The moment he was far enough that the other girls weren’t focused on him, the energy changed from familial to filthy.
Erik slowed his pace, his expression darkening. He slowly flicked his tongue over his top lip, a wet motion that told Sanaa exactly what he wanted to do to her. Then, with a slow, calculated movement, he reached down and gripped the hem of his grey hoodie.
He lifted the fabric, pulling it up high enough to reveal the sculpted, rock-hard terrain of his stomach and the deep, V-taper of his hips. The sight of his scarred skin and the power of his core made Sanaa gasp silently. Tucked firmly into the waistband of his sweats was the matte black grip of a pistol, the weapon adding a raw, dangerous edge to his sexuality that sent a shiver of pure arousal straight to her clit.
He held the pose for a heartbeat, letting her soak in the image of his strength and his lethality, before letting the hoodie drop. As he reached the corner of the hall, he didn't say a word. He simply mouthed two words, his eyes burning into hers:
“C’mere.”
Sanaa felt her heart hammering against her ribs. She wanted to bolt from the room, to throw herself onto him and feel that heavy weight pinning her down, but she was trapped between Naima and Aaliyah.
Trembling, she grabbed her phone and shot him a quick text.
Sanaa: why you always doing this to me 😩
A second later, she saw him stop. Erik looked at his phone, then looked back at her. He let out a sharp “tsk,” kissing his teeth in a gesture of pure, exaggerated annoyance. He gave her a look—one part disappointed daddy, one part ruthless conqueror—that was so intensely focused on her defiance that it almost made her laugh out loud.
Her phone buzzes.
Erik: Don’t think I ain’t see you come out that shower earlier without a bra. You do that shit on purpose, huh?
She bites her lip.
Sanaa: I’m cold. Maybe you should come warm me up.
Erik: I’d fuck the warmth back into you right now. Two fingers in while I suck on that pretty mouth. You’d try to keep quiet, wouldn’t you?
She exhales slow, adjusts her position.
Sanaa: Wouldn’t last a minute. I get loud for you. You know that.
Erik: That pussy get loud too. Keep talking and I’m a take my phone to the bathroom and beat this dick thinking about how you creamed on me earlier.
Her thighs press together. Her phone buzzes again.
Erik: You dripping right now? Tell me the truth.
Sanaa: Ruined my panties twenty minutes ago. Wanna see?
He shifts in the hallway. Back against the wall. Adjusts his joggers. Keeps a straight face. He didn’t argue. He just gave her one last, lingering look that promised a very heavy price for her disobedience before he disappeared into her room, leaving Sanaa drenched and anxious for the retaliation she knew was coming.
Sanaa lingered in Aaliyah’s room for a while longer. Every time she glanced down the hall, she could still feel the ghost of Erik’s gaze on her, the mental image of that matte black pistol against his skin and the way he’d flicked his tongue over his lip burned into her mind. Her pussy was throbbing, a heavy, insistent ache that made it hard to focus on whatever Naima was saying.
Eventually, the heat became too much to ignore. With a playful excuse about needing to wind down, Sanaa finally slid out of the room. As she walked down the hall, she passed the spot where Erik had stood, imagining the scent of him still clinging to the walls. Oud, clove, and something woodsy. Expensive and dark. He doesn’t spray it heavy but it lingers. On pillows. On shirts.
Once inside her own room, she shut the door and leaned against it for a second, letting out a shaky breath. She stripped off her T-shirt with hurried movements, her skin tingling. She slid into her bed, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the feverish warmth of her body. She pulled on her silk bonnet, tucking her curls away, and sprawled out across the mattress.
She lay there in the silence, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing. She could still feel the phantom pressure of his dominance, the way he’d mouthed “C’mere” with that look of absolute ownership. She rolled her hips, rubbing her thighs together, the friction sending a jolt of electricity straight to her clit. She was trapped in a state of agonizing anticipation, knowing that Erik was just a few walls away, likely thinking about exactly how he was going to punish her for saying I can’t.
There was a distinct click of a door closing. It was Aaliyah’s door.
Sanaa froze, her breath hitching in her throat. The sound signaled that the coast was clear. The barrier between her and Erik had just vanished, and the sudden silence of the apartment felt like a countdown.
Buzz buzz
Erik: You in your room?
She didn’t reply. Just smirked. Another buzz.
Erik: I’ma slide over
Then a soft knock. Real soft.
Sanaa tiptoed to the door and cracked it, whispering, “Aaliyah still awake.”
“I know,” Erik said, already stepping in.
He didn’t push the door open hard, just eased through it like a shadow, shutting it with barely a click. The room was dark, save for the TV glow across her bed.
“Why you lookin’ like that?” he asked, eyes dragging over her titties and the peaks of her nipples. Then lower, to those cheeky, red panties that didn’t even pretend to cover her ass.
Sanaa curled her lip. “Like what?”
“Like you wanted me to see all that.”
She walked backward to the bed, slow. “Where you been at with a gun?” she teased.
He followed. “Out.”
“Why you can’t tell me?” Sanaa said with a pout.
Erik exhaled, “Gun range. This…hidden spot I go to when I’m in town to get a few rounds in.”
Sanaa smirks. “Can you take me next time?”
Erik gives her a stern look. “No.”
Sanaa rolls her eyes. “I been here thinking about how you made me cum in my shorts earlier.”
“I see that,” he whispered, eyes dropping to her thighs. “You take that big ass T-shirt off ‘cause you knew I was coming over.”
She smirked, pulled one leg onto the bed. “So?”
Erik just stared at her for a long moment. Then he crossed the room and leaned over her, both palms pressing into the mattress, caging her in. That scent hit her—cologne, leather, and a little sweat. His lips brushed hers. Then deeper. Tongue and spit. His kiss stole the air right out her lungs. A kiss that tasted like he missed her even if he just saw her minutes ago.
Erik pulled back just enough to whisper, “I came to taste somethin’ sweeter than attitude.”
Sanaa bit her lip, thighs squeezing together out of reflex.
“Get up,” he said low.
She blinked. “Huh?”
“Sit on the edge. Bring them knees up.”
The tone in his voice? Left no room for play.
Sanaa did what he said, backing up and sitting on the edge of her bed. She brought her feet up beside her, knees wide open. Those panties pulled tight, then gave way, pussy peeking through and sitting fat.
Erik sucked in a breath. “Damn, mama…”
He dropped to his knees like it was second nature. Big hands gripping her thighs, thumbs spreading her open like he’d done it a hundred times. He curled his fingers into the side of her panties and pulled them to the side. Her pussy lips slipped out with a jiggle. The amount of wet slick that clung to her fat lips and the crotch of her panties?
Erik didn’t waste a fucking second.
Sanaa gasped the second his mouth met her. Tongue warm. Wet. Slipping between those folds like he knew exactly where she needed it. Those lips?!
Oh my Goddddddddddddd
“Oh—shit. Erik…” she whispered, hands gripping her sheets.
He groaned against her, licking deep, slow. Then fast. Then back slow again. That slurp and the smack of his lips filled the room, nasty beneath the TV noise. His hands hooked behind her thighs, holding them wide as he buried his mouth in her. Sucked on her clit until her whole body bucked.
“You hear me?” he growled against her pussy, lips wet with her. “Don’t make a fuckin’ sound.”
Her hand flew up, covering her mouth. She was shaking. Moaning behind her palm. Eyes rolling. Erik was sucking on her pussy like a hungry fucking beast. Sanaa didn’t know what felt so different this time around. But the sucking and licking had her feeling like she was gonna burst. Her stomach fluttered.
But then it hit.
A tightness that started at the base of her spine. Crawled through her belly. Her thighs trembled.
“Erik—baby—wait—wait.”
“Nope,” he grunted, licking harder, faster. Sucking.
She tried to close her legs. He shoved them back open.
“Don’t fight it,” he said, voice deep and ragged. “Let it go.”
Her stomach seized. Eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth opened in a silent cry behind her fingers as it happened.
A rush. Warm and wet. A sudden gush that poured out of her, all over his mouth. Her thighs. The edge of the bed.
“Oh my God—” she gasped, embarrassed, stunned.
Erik didn’t stop. He licked her through it, eyes locked on her, tongue curling and dragging and sucking up everything she gave him. He loved that shit. Loved how she fell apart.
Loved how she tried to hold it in.
Sanaa was shaking when he finally slowed down, licking her clean with long, slow strokes. Her panties were ruined. Her bonnet was crooked. Her chest was heaving.
He kissed up the inside of her thigh and looked up, smirking. “Next time, don’t wait up for me,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Just lay here and get ready.”
Her eyes were glassy. Her legs still open.
“And Sanaa?”
“Yeah…?”
“You taste even better when you squirt.”
Erik left her sitting on the edge of the bed stunned.
1:35 A.M.
She couldn’t sleep.
The sheets were still damp at the edge. Her thighs sticky. Her pussy pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own. Every time she moved, she felt the aftershock of its that warm gush, that thick wet mess Erik pulled out of her like it was nothing. Like her body had always been capable of that, but nobody ever took the time to find it. Nobody ever made her feel that good. That open. Now? She wanted it again. Her pussy ached for it. Throbbed hot and twitching like it remembered his tongue and missed it bad. She pressed her hand between her legs, trying to soothe it, but it wasn’t the same. Her fingers weren’t wide enough, strong enough, dirty enough. Her mouth went dry thinking about how Erik looked after. Wet beard, greedy tongue, hands keeping her wide like she belonged to him.
Sanaa bit her lip and grabbed her phone.
Sanaa: You up?
She barely had time to blink before her door eased open.
Erik stepped in shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Heavy-shouldered. Locs loose and swinging with the motion of his body.
“You text me like that,” he said, voice low and scratchy. “You already know what I’m comin’ in here for.”
She pulled the covers back, heart in her throat. Fresh pair of panties on but still no T-shirt.
“I been thinkin’ about it,” she admitted, cheeks warm. “What you did to me.”
His eyes dropped between her legs. “You want it again.”
She nodded.
He stepped close, leaned down, lips grazing hers without kissing. “You gon’ stop runnin’ from it this time?”
“I ain’t run.”
He smirked, dimple peeking. “You tried.”
And before she could sass him again, he was pulling her new panties off—slick with fresh arousal—and crawling onto the bed like a man starved. She didn’t even have time to get nervous. To prepare for that feeling as if a pipe was set to burst behind her navel. He laid her flat, bent her knees, and pulled her thighs apart like pages in a book he already knew how to read. Then he started like he never stopped.
Again.
Tongue warm. Mouth wide. Slurping. Sucking. Spelling his damn name in cursive across her pussy. Sanaa gasped, back arching, fingers smoothing down his keloid-laden arms, eyes focused on the top of his head. His cross chain was cold and tickling her ass from how low he was between her legs.
Her pussy was soaked. Dripping. He loved that. Erik fucking loved it.
“Yeah,” he groaned, lapping her up. “You already close, huh?”
She whined. “Erik, please—”
“You don’t need to beg,” he said, voice thick and sweet between licks. “Just don’t run from it this time.”
She tried to breathe. She tried to brace. But the pressure built faster now. Her body recognized it. Started chasing it before she even meant to.
“Ohmygod—Erik—I’m—wait—wait—”
He didn’t wait.
He locked his arms under her thighs, anchored her to his face and ate her like a goddamn meal. His mouth sealed around her clit and sucked. The way he sucked, it felt like he was drawing the liquid from her through a straw.
H-H-How is he d-d-doing that?
That was it.
Her stomach tightened. Her toes curled. And then—
Splash.
Another rush.
Thicker this time. Wetter. Her thighs shook hard as the gush poured out of her, soaking his face, the sheets, everything. She gasped, stunned. Whimpering. But Erik didn’t come up for air. He licked through it, drank it, then started again. And when he started again, he sank two thick fingers in her pussy and curled his finger tips upward.
Squelchsquelchsquelchsquelch—
Sanaa tried to squirm.
“Stay still.”
“Erik—it’s too much—”
“You gon’ take it ‘til your body stop bein’ scared of how good this feel.”
And he kept going.
She whimpered—biting her pillow this time—pussy throbbing like it was addicted now. That orgasm came quicker, stronger. Another messy release that made her whimper and twitch.
He made her do it.
Again.
And again.
By the time he finally pulled back, Sanaa was breathless. Legs trembling. Sheets drenched. Her mouth open but no words coming out.
Erik kissed her thigh. Smirked. “You mine,” he said, voice hoarse, chin hair and mustache soaked. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna eat this pussy like I do. Especially not that lil’ nigga.”
She nodded slow, dazed.
And in the back of her mind, she already knew. She’d be texting him tomorrow night.
Summary: He's supposed to be laying low. A job overseas went bloody, and Erik Stevens-Black Ops Mercenary, Ghost of the U.S. Government-needs to go quiet. He crashes at his little sister's place near Howard University in Chocolate City. But when he arrives, there's a surprise: she's got a roommate. Her Best Friend. She's grown since he last saw her. Grown in all the ways that test a man's self control. But Erik? He's never been good at following the rules...
Warnings: Age Gap Romance/ Forbidden Attraction/ Explicit Sexual Content (strong smut, oral sex, size kink, erotic praise, power exchange)/Slow Burn to Filthy/Obsession & Possessiveness/Sexual Tension in Shared Spaces/Mutual Voyeurism/Sexting/Emotional Denial/Resistance/Breeding Talk/Male Dom / Female Sub Dynamic
Part Six
Things felt too quiet after the way Erik came in her mouth.
Sanaa wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then she reached for her phone like she was checking the time instead of ending a man’s night with a single press. Nathan was still talking about dinner reservations when she tapped the screen and ended the call. Her breath floated softly between them—warm and slow—kneeling between his legs like she was posing.
A tiny wet strand of spit clung to her bottom lip. The taste of his cum still on her tongue. Sanaa didn’t bother to fix it.
She lifted the phone and tilted her chin slightly. The glow of the screen lit her skin, her tank top, her thighs on the rug, the shin on her mouth and chin. She pulled up her camera app, her other hand wrapping around Erik’s spit-covered dick, bringing it closer to her mouth. Tongue poked out, a quick shutter flashed. Sanaa saved it.
Erik sat back against the sofa like he’d been dropped there like a sack of potatoes. His chest rose and fell with uneven pulls. His taunt abdomen kept tightening further and relaxing like it hadn’t caught up with the rest of his body. Erik looked down at Sanaa the way a man looks at something he should deny himself of but knows he never will. His thighs were still spread wide, his dick lay heavy and twitching against the palm of her hand. Softer now but still thick enough to make her smile.
Sanaa finally released her grip around his girth and stood slowly. Not completely. Just enough to lean in close. She braced one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on his thigh. Her mouth slick and looking slicker like she wanted him down her throat again. Her sparse faux lashes framed her eyes in that soft yet dangerous way that he wouldn’t have imagined seeing.
Sanaa peeked down the hallway.
Silent. Dark. Safe.
Her voice dropped low, “You almost gave us away there, Erik.”
He blinked once. Slow. His jaw clenching again. That look he got when he wanted to say something but didn’t trust what might come out.
Sanaa eased closer. Her breath brushed his cheek. Her lips curved.
“You want us getting caught?”
She said it like a dare. Like a challenge. Like she was testing his restraint. It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t innocent. Not anywhere close to the sweet girl Nathan thought he was talking to.
Sanaa’s mouth hung open just a little as she watched him, letting the shine on her pouty bottom lip to catch the faint glow of the TV. Her throat still tasted like him. She let that knowledge sit between them, thick as the air he was pulling in slow through his nose.
His eyes stayed on her face. His mouth shut. Then, his eyes dropped down her neck, then lower, stopping at the faint smear of spit or maybe his cum on her chin. Something dark settled in Erik’s gaze. Something quiet and dangerous. Something he tried to hide most days. Unless he was provoked.
And she was provoking him.
Erik finally sat up. Only a little. His shoulders pulled forward. His hands rested on his knees like he was trying to remember what his body was supposed to be doing. Erik didn’t touch her. The way he looked at her felt like a grip.
Sanaa straightened up a little more, not backing away. Not apologizing for her antics. Her fingers brushed the top of her tank just above her cleavage. Just enough for Erik to notice.
“You liked that, didn’t you.” She spoke faintly. Not a question, more like she already knew the answer.
Erik’s eyes narrowed. He licked his lips and finally spoke.
“You really think you safe right now?” His voice came out low. Almost calm. Too calm.
Sanaa’s smile widened. Pretty. Sweet on the surface. Dangerous underneath.
“I know I am.”
Sanaa lifted and stepped back only enough to give herself space to walk. She turned her back to him, the soft sway of her hips carrying her towards the hallway. Her shorts rode up with every step. She didn’t fix them. She never fixed anything when she wanted him to focus on her. To watch.
Halfway down the hall, Sanaa paused. She stood there, one hand resting on the wall, the strap of her tank sliding down her shoulder. Then, she turned her head. Eyes heavy. Lashes low an teasing.
“You look like you gon’ come get me.”
Erik stared at her from the sofa, his chest rising too fast now, his forearms flexed where he braced them on his thighs. He didn’t answer her. His whole body was already telling her he planned to do just that.
She let a small sound slip from her throat. Almost like a whimper. Or maybe a soft whine. Pleased none the less.
“Good.”
She pushed off the wall an slipped into her bedroom, closing the door just enough for a thin line of warm light to stay visible.
Erik remained on the sofa, breathing hard, staring at the crack of light like it was pulling him forward by the collar. His jaw flexed again. One hand reached up to drag down his face slow and rough. A soft curse pushed out of him
“Fuck.”
Erik leaned back, tried to get himself under control.
Failed.
Because all he could see was the shine of her pretty mouth. The way she sucked him down. The look in her eyes while she was on her knees between his legs. Her throat opening around him.
Erik sat there for a long moment, fists tight, chest rising.
Then, he stood. It wasn’t fast.
He knew exactly where he was about to go. And who he was going for.
Erik waited only long enough to make sure Aaliyah’s door remained shut. Once he was certain, he moved. Quiet. Direct. No hesitation in his strides. The hallway felt narrow for how he was breathing. Almost claustrophobic.
He finally reached Sanaa’s door, pushing it open with two fingers.
The sight hit him like a jab to the gut.
Sanaa stood in the middle of her room, back turned towards him, the hem of her tank sliding up her waistline as she peeled it over her head. Her hips looked soft enough to bite into. And that ass in those little shorts? She kicked those off gently, leaving a pair of cheeky, dark green panties on. Just bare enough to tempt him. Enough to let him know she was waiting for exactly this.
Sanaa bent forward a little like she was reaching for something on her bed. That ass lifted. Her thighs parted slightly. It was an eased, casual movement Erik knew was done with intent.
She looked back, a small smile tugging at her lips when she saw him in the mirror.
A tease. A trap.
Erik stepped inside and closed the door behind him with his foot. It clicked shut. His breath tightened in his chest, steady but strong. All that calm he tried to hold onto was gone.
He crossed the room in three strides.
Sanaa straightened just as he reached her. Before she could turn fully, his big hand slid around her next firm. Sanaa’s breath stuttered in her throat. Erik moved her to face the wall near her bedroom door, their bodies close, her skin soft and warm against his body. He could feel her pulse tapping under his palm.
Her lips parted.
Erik leaned in, his voice dropping low enough to rattle her spine.
“You think you cute.”
His thumb pressed under her jaw, guiding her chin up. It was enough to make her listen.
“You really sat out there on your knees. Let that lil’ nigga talk to you while you sucked me off…”
Sanaa’s eyes fluttered. She smiled faintly, all innocence and no innocence at all.
“You think I’m playing wit’ you?” Erik brought his forehead to the side of her face so he can speak directly into her ear, “You a dirty girl. You know that? A messy lil’ slut. A tease. You do this shit on purpose.”
Sanaa swallowed under his hand. Her thighs pressed together.
Her voice came out gentle but trembling with hunger, “I’m a nasty bitch?”
Erik let out a breath through his nose. Deep. His fingers tightened slightly around her neck, enough to make her gasp.
“You a nasty bitch for real. The kinda nasty bitch that don’t listen. Make a nigga lose it. The kinda bitch that open her mouth for dick while another dude begging for her time…”
Sanaa’s breath slipped out shaky. She shifted against him, her ass brushing his crotch. It made Erik clench his jaw.
“…You proud of yourself?”
A small whine rippled from her throat. Sanaa nodded.
Erik leaned even closer, lips almost touching her ear.
“Say it again.”
Sanaa shivered, “I’m a nasty bitch.”
His grip on her neck tighter. More dominant.
“Louder.”
“I-I’m a nasty bitch.”
Erik’s breath hit her shoulder, “You damn right.” He let his other hand slide down her side. Over her ribs. Across her thigh. Then up between her legs, stopping just before he touched her where she wanted him to touch. He didn’t even have to go further to feel the heat radiating from between her legs. That pussy was damn near soaked through her panties. He knew it.
“You drippin’. Actin’ bold one second. Shaking the next.”
Sanaa’s knees buckled a little and Erik caught her by the waist, holding her steady.
“Put your hands on the wall.”
Erik stepped in closer behind her, his chest now fully pressed to her back, his hand now locking her arms above her head. That dick she was slurping on sitting between her cheeks. Sanaa’s breath went thin.
“You gon’ tease me again like you did tonight?”
Sanaa shook her head.
“You lyin’. You gon’ suck my dick all over this apartment while that nigga tryna take you out?”
Her thighs pressed tougher. Voice barely held together.
“If you let me.”
Erik’s other hand slid down her stomach. Flat. Warm. Possessive.
“Don’t start. Because if you ask for something tonight, daddy just might take you up on it.”
Sanaa exhaled, a soft sound that made his grip tighten.
Then, she whispered, voice low and needy, “Daddy…I want more.”
The look that came across his face could set the room on fire. Erik chuckled under his breath. The sound vibrated against her spine.
“You want more,” Erik said, his mouth still at her ear, his words brushing her skin, “Actin’ like you ready for anything I give you.” He leaned in closer, his chest pressed to her back. His hips nudged her lightly. A reminder of his size. A reminder of the weight she loved. A reminder of how easily he could fold her if he wanted, “You not getting a thing.”
Sanaa’s mouth parted, a small involuntary sound slipping out but she covered it with a slow inhale. Trying to look unbothered.
Erik chuckled again. He saw it. All of it.
“You hear me?” Erik’s lips grazed the edge of her ear tickling her, “After what you pulled in that kitchen. After what you pulled tonight. You gets nothin’.”
Her nails bit lightly into the wall. Sanaa pressed her lips together because she refused to give him the satisfaction of begging. Even though her body betrayed her.
Erik stepped even closer, his frame engulfing hers. His hand settled on the wall above her head, boxing her in. The room felt smaller with him anchored behind her like that.
His voice dropped even lower, “You think you can get on your knees in front of me, run your mouth like that, swallow me whole, then ask for more. You think you run this.”
Her breath rose unevenly. Sanaa tried to steady it. Tried to stop her hips from shifting back toward him. Tried not to let her body answer him before she could. But it was so hard.
“Stand still,” he said.
She did. Barely. Her knees wobbled. Erik’s hand found her waist. His fingers pressed into the soft dip there.
“You not gettin’ my dick tonight.” His words wrapped around her like a fist, “You not gettin’ my fingers. You not gettin’ my mouth. Nothing.”
Her lashes lowered. A heat stirred low in her stomach. She hated how much his denial hit her. Hated how thick her throat felt. Hated how his voice ran down her spine like warm syrup. The second she got a piece of control, it slipped.
Erik dipped his head to her neck. His lips hovered. Teasing the air above her skin.
“You thought you could push me. You thought you could take control like that.” His breath filled the space between them, “You out your fuckin’ mind, lil’ girl.”
She swallowed. Her head tilted slightly to the side without permission, baring her neck to him. It was instinct. Her body was betraying her.
He loved that.
“Watch how you walk around this apartment tomorrow like you innocent. Like you not the same lil’ slut who did all this shit tonight.” His voice sank even lower, “But I know you, Bri.”
She shifted again. Tension ran down her thighs.
“So keep tryin’ me,” he whispered, “Keep runnin’ your little games…”
Her chest rose sharply.
“Because you not getting touched until I say so.”
Something slick moved behind her eyes. Not desperation. Calculation.
He could feel it.
“You thinkin’ of a way to piss me off again,” he said softly.
She didn’t respond. Erik smiled against her cheek.
“You plotting.”
Still, Sanaa stayed quiet. Her body gave her away. Her back arched the tiniest bit. Her breath got thinner.
He pressed his lips to her ear, “You wanna act up again, ma?” His voice was warm and cruel all at once. “Go ahead.”
Her stomach tightened. Erik stepped back suddenly. The air left her body in a cold rush. She stayed against the wall because her knees didn’t trust her yet. Erik looked at her from behind. Her back rising. Her skin flushed. Her whole body fighting itself.
“I hope you do,” he said, “‘cause when you push me too far…”
She turned her head slowly toward him, lips slightly parted, eyes dark with want and something sharper.
He smirked, “Think real hard before you try me again.”
Sanaa turned slowly. Her chest peeled from the wall inch by inch, breath unsteady, her tank was still lifted tto show that soft line of her waist he kept staring at. She faced him fully now, her curly hair messy, her lips shiny from licking and nibbling on them. The air tightened between them the second their eyes locked.
Erik’s stance was wide, heavy, shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway. The scars across his arms and torso caught the soft yellow lamp light, raised bumps over rich brown skin that made him look carved from something older than this world. His locs hung partly in his face, shadowing dark eyes that glared at her like she had crossed a line she couldn’t uncross.
It made her knees soften.
Sanaa bit down on her bottom lip and her gaze dragged all the way down his chest, over the swell of muscle in his arms, the slope of his stomach, the thick outline still fighting to calm down in his sweats. She touched her throat lightly. A slow trace of her fingers. Like she was remembering his hand there and wanted it back.
“I never told you this,” she started. Her voice trembling not from fear, but from need.
Erik’s chin lifted. Barely. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and lust twisted together.
Sanaa stepped closer. Just one slow step. Enough to make his jaw clench, “I remember…” Her lips curled, “I saw you getting sucked by one of your bitches back home.”
His whole body went still.
Her voice dropped to even more of a whisper, “I watched her. I watched you. I never forgot it.”
His nostrils flared, fingers twitched at his sides.
She kept going, “I pictured myself on my knees for you. All the time.” She moved her hand from her neck to her mouth, dragging her thumb across her bottom lip, “I practiced too. A lot. Just so when it was my turn, I’d be good for you.”
Erik took one short step forward, enough to let her feel the size of him. His shadow swallowed her.
“…You practiced,” he echoed. His voice wasn’t loud, but it rumbled low in his chest, “For me.”
Sanaa nodded. Slow. Eager. Defiant.
He leaned in close. His breath brushed her cheek, “You a bold lil’ bitch,” he said, “Standing here bragging ‘bout sucking practice like that don’t make you dick crazy.”
Her chest lifted. The word crazy almost pushed a sound out of her. Erik let his eyes drag over her body, slow and heated. Down her throat. Across her chest. Over her hips. He took his time. Let her feel every inch of his stare.
“You really sat there and watched me get my dick sucked. Then went home and tried to copy it.” His tongue traced the corner of his mouth. “You filthy.”
Sanaa inhaled sharply. Her thighs pressed together without her permission. He stepped even closer. Their chests brushed. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You wanna know what that make you?” he asked.
She nodded.
His lips touched her ear. A ghost of contact.
“My lil’ slut in training.” Erik pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. His expression shifted to something darker, “But you not gettin’ touched.”
Her breath stopped.
“Not after that.” His voice wrapped around her like a rope, “Not after tellin’ me you been practicing on your own time just to suck me right.”
She swallowed.
“You think that supposed to get you somethin’ tonight?” His tone hardened, “You think that confession mean you gettin’ dick?”
Her lips parted. No words came out.
“You gettin’ nothing.”
Her stomach twisted so sharply it hurt. Erik reached out like he was about to grab her chin.
Then he stopped.
His hand hovered inches from her skin. Close enough to make her gasp. Close enough that she leaned forward instinctively, desperate to feel his touch.
He dropped his hand, “You thirsty,” he said softly, “Shaking for it.”
Her breath stuttered. She hated how true it was. Couldn’t stand it. Erik looked down at the front of his sweats. The fabric twitched again. Hard. Thick. Full from base to top. His body was betraying him more than hers.
He clenched his jaw.
“I should take you right here,” he said, “I should bend your ass over this bed for everything you just said.”
She shivered.
“But I’m not.” His voice cut warm and sharp, “I’m a leave you aching.”
Her lips parted in shock.
“And I’m walkin’ out this room while you stand here wet as hell in them lil’ ass panties...”
Erik stepped back. Sanaa’s breath quickened. Her fingers curled at her sides.
“You want to play reckless?” His eyes dragged over her again, slow and punishing, “Good. Feel it.”
Sanaa stared at him, stunned, ruined, burning. His chest rose heavy as he fought himself. The twitch at his waistband betrayed him again. His abs tightened. His breath hitched.
He wanted her. Bad. So damn bad.
But he turned toward the door anyway.
“Touch yourself tonight,” he said without looking back, “See what it get you.”
Her mouth fell open. A quiet sound escaped her.
Erik opened the door, he paused at the doorway.
“And don’t forget.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper, “I can tell that you been practicing.”
He walked out.
Left the door cracked just enough for her to feel the cold air rush in. Left her shaking. Left himself hurting. Left both of them one wrong move away from breaking again.
____
A low bassline pulsed from the speaker in the corner, something dark and hypnotic. DVSN threading through the air. Erik sat lounged in the corner of the sectional, thighs relaxed, that long frame stretching out in a way that pulled attention whether he meant to or not. His tank top clung to his chest. Sweatpants hung low, the print of his semi-hard dick visible when he shifted. His locs were pulled back and his gold slugs glinted every time he licked over his full bottom lip. His laptop was open and resting over one thigh. He bobbed his head lightly to the music.
Erik hadn’t heard her come in at first.
Sanaa dropped her keys in the ceramic dish and stood in the entryway for a second. She was exhausted, book bag slumped on one shoulder.
Erik looked up.
“Sup, Bri. You good?”
She gave him a weak nod, “Yeah…just school shit.”
Erik watched her a beat longer. Watched the way her shoulders drooped, the slight frown in her forehead. The fuck-it-all drag in her feet as she made her way to her bedroom. Sanaa shut the door behind her without another word.
Erik went back to typing.
Then, ten minutes later, she returned.
No clothes. Nothing. Not even a bra and panties. Just butt ass naked. Skin dewy and glowing. Titties bouncing with each graceful step. Pussy waxed and shining. Those soft thighs parting as she walked across the living room without a trace of shame. Sanaa quietly breezed through. Didn’t even glance his way until she got to the front of the sectional. The music was still low in the background, that sleepy instrumental to DVSN ‘muse’ that matched the thump of Erik’s blood when his dark eyes landed on her.
Erik had been simply lounging back on the sectional with that calm, unreadable look on his face. But the second she walked into that room—naked, soft, wet—he leaned back and stared up at her ass like he was trying to decide if she was being serious.
He stared deep into her eyes, brows frowning, “Fuck you doin’, lil’ girl?”
Sanaa came closer. Her hands remained at her sides. She leaned in close enough for him to smell her vanilla and marshmallow scented lotion on her skin and the stress of the day still clinging to her.
“You even take a breath before throwin’ that lil pussy at me?” Erik’s voice came slow, low, teasing.
Her voice was a soft whisper when she began to speak. Like it had nowhere else to go but his ears.
“Make me feel better.”
Then she laid back right there. On the rug. Head tilted. Those eyes on him. Her thighs opened and inviting him to come get that pussy and make her forget how stressed her day had been. To fuck the stress away.
One leg lifted and fell to the side, exposing all that glossy, wet pink pussy between her thighs. Her clit was puffy, inner lips parted like they’d been craving that kind of attention since before she left campus.
Erik sat for a second.
Then, he closed his laptop. Sat it down beside him.
“…You ain’t even get comfortable yet,” Erik spoke as he stood, “Just came straight home needing your pussy played in?”
He crouched between her legs, voice dropping lower with every word.
“Mm,” Erik grunted under his breath like he had just been given something so delicate yet so nasty to study. His hand moved in. No rush. All palm at first—warm, heavy—cupping her entire pussy like he was checking it’s temperature.
“Been missin’ me, huh?” He said, rubbing her slow with his whole hand, middle finger dragging through the slick.
Sanaa’s pussy twitched in his hand.
“You this wet off nothin’? Just walked out drippin’ like that?”
His fingers dipped in—just two at first. Deep and curling slow. Erik stroked upward, his knuckles dragging against her soaked walls. Sanaa’s back arched like she was. Puppet obeying her master. Just a soundless breath and a shudder escaping her lips, legs trembling as her hips tilted into his palm.
“Thought so. Thought you was gon’ sit there and just give it up like this.”
Erik kept finger-fucking her with a steady and deep motion. He didn’t pump her pussy fast. He angled his fingers just right in that pussy and dragged them in and out slow, then curled them inside her like he was raking through honey. Sanaa let her head fall back and grabbed onto the sides of his thighs for balance, her jaw slack and her chest rising in a staggering rhythm.
She tried pathetically to close her legs but Erik opened them back up.
“Don’t fuckin’ do that. Don’t piss me off,” Erik’s voice dropped darker, “Let me play in it. Nasty lil’ bitch. What happened? Professor ain’t give you no attention? You been fidgeting in them lil’ lecture seats thinkin’ ‘bout daddy dick again, huh?”
Erik didn’t let her answer.
“Daddy—”
“Shut that shit the fuck up. Whinin’. You know what time Aaliyah come home?”
“She—she got class…”
Erik curled his fingers and watched her body twitch.
“And if her shit get let out early? You gon’ be sprawled out in the middle of the living room like a slut. You gon’ get us caught. You want that?”
She shook her head. Whimpered.
Erik just stared at her for a moment. His jaw clenched. Eyes low. That quiet irritation that always gave way to something darker when it came to her.
“Then stop actin’ like a bitch in heat, Sanaa.”
“Erik…I can’t. You make me wet just lookin’ at you. I can’t help it.”
Erik’s chin tilted down, voice dropping into that fake gentle concern that made her stomach grow warm.
“Yeah, baby girl?” He let it settle, slow, “I make it wet?”
Her breath hitched.
Erik touched her chin, his thumb pressing into the corner of her mouth just enough to make her feel owned and tempted at the same time.
“Daddy turn you on so much you can’t stop openin’ your legs for me? Huh?”
Sanaa swallowed. Erik’s palm slid down the side of her hip, fingers spreading like he was measuring her.
“You that far gone?” His tone stayed sweet. Too sweet, “All it take is me lookin’ at you and now you leakin’ on yourself?”
Her pulse jumped. Erik leaned in, his lips a breath above her ear.
“You serious, ma?”
Sanaa nodded before she could stop herself. Erik gave a soft scoff, almost laughing at her, but it came out warm enough to melt her spine.
“Greedy lil’ Sanaa. You really can’t help it, huh?”
His tone shifted.
Erik pulled his fingers out. He picked her up easy. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Erik walked straight up to the sofa and tossed her down her down just hard enough to make the cushions bounce.
“Don’t say nothin’,” he growled, “Just lay there and be the needy lil slut you wanna be.”
Sanaa was already reaching between her legs when he slid down onto the sofa beside her.
He caught her wrist.
“I said don’t…touch. That’s my pussy now.”
His fingers slid back inside her and this time he went deeper. His thumb massaged her clit just the way she liked it. His mouth stayed close to her ear, that voice keeping her pinned.
“Been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”
“Yes…”
“Been actin’ smart too often. Rollin’ your eyes. Givin’ me attitude. Suckin’ my dick and sending me pussy pics. Just reckless. Get home and lay it all out like a bitch who forgot how to behave.”
“I needed it…” Sanaa whined.
“Yeah? You need it now? Greedy ass pussy,” he breathed, “Clutchin’ like you tryna keep me in.”
She looked up at him, breathless, “I am.” Biting her lip, gyrating her hips a little to match the way his thick fingers stroked her.
“Aight then. You want it?”
She nodded, eyes glassy.
He leaned in close, gripped her jaw, “Beg for it like I been gone three weeks.”
Sanaa’s lips parted, voice cracking.
“Please. Erik, I need it so bad. I been thinkin’ about it all day. My pussy so wet, I swear. I’ll be quiet. I’ll keep it in. Just…please. I need it.”
His eyes dropped to where she glistened.
He gave a slow smirk.
“Say less.”
He didn’t rush it.
That was the first thing that always ruined her.
Erik never rushed when it came to her pussy. He treated it like something he needed to study every single time. Like he might miss something if he went too fast. Like he wanted to watch her fall apart piece by piece. On his dick. On his tongue. And now on his fingers.
He dragged two fingers down her slit, not even going inside again. Just tracing. Feeling how slick she was. How she twitched at the smallest contact. He rubbed through her folds lazy, teasing, spreading her wetness everywhere until her thighs started shaking. Feeling the soft slippery folds of her pretty pussy.
“Look at this shit,” he whispered, “You nasty.”
His middle finger slid in. Deep. All the way to the knuckle. Sanaa’s head fell back immediately. A soft, broken sound left her throat before she could stop it.
“Ahh…”
He paused. Smiled.
“That all it take?”
Then he started moving.
In.
Out.
Slow. Controlled.
Erik was setting a rhythm for her body to follow whether she wanted to or not. Then, he added a second finger. Pushed in. Curled them both upward. Hit that spot good.
Her back arched clean off the sofa, “Oh my—yes…”
Her hands fisted the throw blanket beneath her. Her words disappeared after that. Because he did not let up. He started fucking her with his fingers. Not gentle. Not polite. Deep strokes. Curling. Pressing. Dragging against her walls like he was trying to rewrite her brain.
“Mm,” he hummed, “There it is.”
Her moans turned sloppy. High. Breathless.
“Uh…ahh…Erik…fuck…”
“Shut up,” he said softly, “Just feel it.”
He pulled his fingers out suddenly. She cried out in protest. Before she could complain, he dragged those same messy fingers up and planted those same fingers on her clit. Then he started rubbing. Back and forth. Slow at first. Then faster. Harder. Side to side. Her hips bucked immediately.
“Ohhh…ohh…oh—mm—gah—mffff—”
She couldn’t finish a sentence. Couldn’t form one. Her mouth stayed open, nothing but broken sounds falling out. He watched her closely. Watched her thighs tremble. Watched her stomach tighten. Watched her toes curl.
“Look at you. Dumb off some fingers. Can’t even talk.”
He slid his fingers back inside her. Two. Then three.
Wet. Slippery. Messy.
Went right back to fucking her. At the same time, his thumb never stopped on her clit. In and out.
Rub. Curl. Rub. Deeper. Faster. Rub.
He set a brutal rhythm.
Finger her. Rub her clit. Finger her harder. Rub her faster. Over and over. No mercy. No break. No slowing down.
Her body started betraying her. Her hips chased his hand. Her legs shook. Her breath stuttered. Her eyes rolled up.
“Mm…mm…mmm…”
That was all she had left.
He leaned down, mouth close to her ear, “Whole pussy cryin’ for me and you can’t even say shit,” he whispered. “Pathetic.”
She whimpered. Tried to speak.
Failed.
He sped up, “Yeah. There it go.”
His fingers plunged deep and stayed curled while his thumb went ruthless on her clit. Side to side.
Circles. Pressure. Faster. Faster.
Her back bowed. A broken sob left her mouth.
“Erik…I’m…”
“I know,” he said calmly, “Go ‘head. Cum right in my hand.”
He did not slow. Did not ease up. Did not give her time. He pushed her straight over the edge. Her body locked. Her thighs clamped around his wrist. A loud, uncontrollable moan tore out of her chest as she came hard.
Wet. Hot. Soaking his hand.
Shaking like she was being electrocuted.
“Ahhh… ahh…oh my g-ga-ha-ffff…”
He stayed inside her. Kept rubbing. Kept fucking her. Rode it out with her. Sanaa grabbe for his wrist but she was too weak. Her grip too soft. She looked into Erik’s eyes with a mixture of confusion and lust. Then she glanced down at her pussy. At the mess. At the way he kept focus on that spot. Her eyelids fluttered when his thumb made its way back to her clit and rubbed. Her acrylics dug into the palm of her hand from how tightly clenched she was.
“Let it out,” he whispered, “Make a mess…make a mess…make a mess…”
Her orgasm dragged. Pulsed. Hit her in waves. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. When she finally collapsed back into the mattress, completely spent, he slowly pulled his fingers out. Held them up. Glossy. Dripping. He looked at them. Then at her.
“Look what you did,” he said quietly, “Disgusting.”
She could barely lift her head.
Her voice came out weak, “…do it again.”
He chuckled low, “Greedy ass. I ain’t never met a hoe so greedy like you.”
He did it again.
Back to her pussy. Fingers inside. Deep strokes. Soaked. Then right back up to her clit. Rubbing tight, wet circles. She was panting now, body rocking with each shift of his hand, throat too tight to make full sounds. Just high whines. Moans caught in her mouth. Her head dropped forward and Erik grabbed the back of her neck, keeping her in place.
“Uh uh. Sit up. I wanna see that face.”
He kept rubbing, kept fingering, switching between the two like he had her on a rhythm he made up just for her. Her pussy was clenching, fluttering around nothing when he pulled out, leaking and sensitive and begging for more.
“Messy lil pussy,” he said, gliding his fingers up again.
She couldn’t answer. Her mouth hung open but no words came. Her body talked for her. The way she rocked in his lap. The way she gripped his wrist. The way her climax crept up like it was dragging her under.
Erik felt it. Saw it.
“There you go…there you go…daddy’s good girl…,” he whispered.
He rubbed harder. Fingers slid back inside. She cried out, louder this time.
“Ohhh—FUCK.”
“That’s it. Come on, lil’ princess with the pretty pussy—”
Fingers back on her clit. Back in her pussy. Slick noises filling the space between her thighs and his breath.
She started to tremble.
And he didn’t stop. Erik didn’t let her come down. He worked her through it until she was writhing, mouth open but no sound coming out. Her pussy gushing all over his fingers, thighs soaked. She was shaking so hard now he had to wrap an arm around her waist to hold her steady.
Then, finally, she slumped forward, chest to his, breathing hard and twitching.
Erik kissed her temple.
Licked his fingers.
“Better?” he asked with a slight tick of his brow.
_____
The way her body curled against his told him everything he needed to know. She wanted it again. Wanted to feel wrecked. Owned. Dumbed out on his touch. But Erik wasn’t giving in easy. Thighs sticky and twitching, pussy glistening. Her chest heaved. Her lips stayed parted, eyes halfway rolled. She was losing herself before he even started up again.
Erik leaned in close, brushing his lips just beneath her ear, fingers still playing in her wetness.
“This that same pussy I had laid out in that bed, huh?” he whispered, dragging two fingers up her slit slow, “Yeah. This that same tight lil’ pussy that creamed all on me while you was beggin’ for the tip, actin’ like you ain’t know what the fuck you was doin’.”
Sanaa’s thighs clenched. He didn’t let her close.
“Nah. You gon’ keep that shit open,” he said, voice deep and calm, “You made this mess. Sit in it.” He eased two fingers back inside her, knuckles deep, the angle precise. He stroked her from the inside while his thumb pressed soft over her clit, “Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout how this pussy felt when I fucked you,” he muttered, nose brushing her cheek, “All that grip, all that wet, pullin’ me in like you was tryna keep me.” His fingers slid in deeper, “Shit was creamy like lotion. Had me slippin’ and slidin’ in it. Couldn’t stop. Still can’t.” He started thrusting his fingers harder now, slow but precise. Curl. Stretch. Rub. She jerked in his lap, “And you know what I really love?” His voice dropped, lips now against her jaw, “How you let me nut in it.”
She gasped.
“How you take daddy nut. Don’t pull away. Don’t run. Just open them pretty lil’ legs and let me fill it up. Cus it’s mine to fill up how I please, ain’t it? Lil slut like this nut up in her pussy?”
Sanaa was moaning now, breath ragged, whole body trembling against his chest. He pulled his fingers out just to rub her clit with all that wetness, sliding fast, back and forth, making her eyes roll.
“You know I ain’t supposed to be dickin’ you down like this,” he growled in her ear with a slight mug, “You supposed to be off limits.” Then he shoved his fingers right back in, “But I can’t get enough of this sloppy lil’ puss. Keep thinkin’ ‘bout it. Wakin’ up hard over it. Watchin’ you walk around like you ain’t the reason I stay backed up.”
She whined loud, reaching for his shoulders, losing the ability to hold herself steady.
Erik caught her by the throat, “Nuh uh. You gon’ take this like a big girl.” He squeezed gently, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to hold her still, “You want that dick again?” he asked, staring her down.
She nodded fast.
“I said,” he growled, “you want that dick again?”
“Yes—yes,” she choked out, voice trembling.
“You gotta fuckin’ earn it.” He started rubbing her clit faster, meaner, while his fingers stayed buried, “You been a bratty lil’ bitch lately. Pushin’ it. Givin’ me attitude. Walkin’ ‘round actin’ like I won’t bend you over this couch and fuck that attitude right outta ya lil’ ass.”
Sanaa’s cries turned breathless, legs shaking again.
“Been movin’ too risky. Gon’ get us caught ‘cause you wanna keep gettin’ your pussy stretched and creamed like a nasty lil’ fiend.” He hit that spot again. She screamed into his shoulder, “Oh, you feel that?”
She was falling apart.
“Yeah. That’s what happens when Daddy in control. You want it, you follow rules.” He kept stroking. Kept rubbing, “Say who it belong to,” he demanded, hand between her legs relentless.
“Y-you,” she stuttered.
“Nah. Say it right.”
“It’s yours, Daddy—fuck, it’s yours—”
“Damn right. This daddy pussy. Gotta remind you…”
He shoved his fingers deep again, grinding his thumb over her clit until she came with a sharp cry, body convulsing, pussy gushing. She clung to him, sobbing through the release. Erik didn’t let up until she went limp in his lap. Then he kissed the side of her neck and whispered—
“You want the dick again, you better act like it.”
She nodded, dumb and breathless.
He smiled, “Now that’s my good girl.”
Her breath came in shallow pulls, lashes damp, lips swollen from biting them shut. Erik sat back, fingers glistening, and stared at her like she was his next meal. Then, he brought those same fingers up to her mouth, slow and slick.
“Open.”
She did it without thinking, tongue out, lips wrapping around his fingers like she was starving for more. Erik groaned low, eyes darkening as she sucked them clean. He moved them deeper, past her lips, pressing to the back of her tongue. She gagged a little but didn’t stop, eyes fluttering closed like she liked it.
“Mm,” he chuckled, “Oh you ain’t so tough now, is you, Bri?”
She looked up at him, eyes low, need pouring off her in waves.
“You know your fuckin’ place now or I gotta put you through this couch? Fuck some respect back in you?”
Erik pulled his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop, stood up slow, and dragged his sweats down his hips. That thick dick sprang free—heavy, brown, pretty, veins bulging up the shaft. Sanaa’s lips parted again, this time in awe. Her eyes dropped, locked onto it like she forgot how to breathe. Like she forgot how that dick look. What it tasted like. How it opened her up.
“I been edging my shit all fuckin’ day,” Erik growled, gripping the base with one hand, the other cupping his full, weighty balls, “You see this?”
He pushed his hips forward, showing her how swollen they were, dragging one palm beneath them slow.
“Balls backed up. Look.”
She moaned out loud, crawling forward on her knees, reaching for him, eyes glassy.
“Uh uh,” he said, stepping back, “Don’t touch me.”
Sanaa whimpered.
He chuckled again, stroking himself now, letting her watch that thick dick swell in his grip.
“I’m a give it to you…yeah,” he said, voice low, rough, “But you ain’t touchin’ me.”
Her brows pulled together, breath catching as she tried to sit still, thighs clenching under her.
“I’m tired of your lil’ ass thinkin’ you run shit,” he said, jerking himself faster now, jaw tight, eyes locked on her face, “Throwin’ tantrums. Actin’ bold. Bein’ a fuckin’ brat.” He stepped back in, towering over her, letting that thick dick bounce right in front of her lips, “You gon’ sit there and take this like you supposed to.”
Sanaa nodded, eyes wide, voice barely a whisper, “Yes, Daddy.”
He smirked.
“Good. Now sit back. Arch that shit. You wanted it so bad? Get yo’ ass ready to beg for it all over again.”
Sanaa arched her back deep, her spine curved like a bow, cheek pressed to the cushion, ass raised high like an offering. Her low bun sat pretty at the base of her neck, trembling each time she breathed too hard. She was dripping so much it leaked to the throw blanket beneath her, folds glistening, thighs trembling.
Erik stood behind her, stroking his dick slow, letting the head glide through her wetness without putting it in yet. Just teasing. Making her wait for it on his command.
“You always got some slick shit to say,” he spoke low and rough, pressing the tip against her entrance, not moving. “Always actin’ like you runnin’ something.”
Sanaa whimpered, pushed back just a little, trying to catch it. He gripped her ass with one hand, thick fingers spreading her open.
“Keep that shit right there.”
Then he pushed in. Slow. Deep. All the way. Her pussy stretched wide around him, and Erik let out a thick breath through his nose, clenching his jaw as her walls clenched tight around every inch. His thrusts started slow. Strokes that dragged through her like he was tryna mark every inch. Her moans came soft at first, then louder with each roll of his hips.
“Fuck, Daddy…” she gasped, eyes squeezed shut, legs shaking.
Erik grabbed that bun. Fistful. Tight.
“Up. Get on them fuckin’ hands.”
He pulled her up, forced her to arch even deeper, made her take all of him from a new angle. Then, he started really fuckin’ her. Deep. Hard. Faster. Her ass clapped back against his thighs with every stroke. The sound echoed off the walls.
“Oooh, shit—” Sanaa cried out, gasping, shaking.
Her hands gave out. Her body couldn’t keep up. Erik held her by her hair, other hand palming her ass, pulling her back onto his dick over and over again.
“Thought you was in charge?” he growled, “Thought you was slick?”
She tried to answer, but all that came out was another broken moan.
“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. This mine. You act like it ain’t. I remind you every time.”
Her voice cracked, “It’s in my belly, Daddy—”
Tears slipped out the corners of her eyes. She was crying now. Whimpering. Babbling.
But Erik wasn’t tryna hear that shit.
“Nah. Don’t cry now.” He dug his grip deeper into her hip, “You the one beggin’ for dick. You the one throwin’ that shit at me every time you get needy.”
His dick was slamming up into her now, balls smacking her clit with every stroke, wetness dripping down both their thighs.
“You gon’ feel this tomorrow.” He slapped her ass, left a mark, “Next time you act up, I’mma put you right back in this position. Face down, ass up. Cryin’ ‘cause you can’t take it, but beggin’ for more.”
She was gone. Whimpering. Clawing at the couch. Back arched. Mouth wide open. Tears falling. Sanaa folded, arms draped over the top of the sectional, face buried in the crook of her elbow like she was hiding from what he was doing to her. Whimpering. Shaking. Her breaths came ragged and shallow, lips parted, eyes wet.
Erik didn’t say a word. He was speaking with that dick. Long, deep strokes. Slow. Intentional. His hips rolled with power, digging into her like he was carving out a message inside her walls. Each thrust dragged a sound from her throat she couldn’t control. All broken, soft, shame-drenched. One of his hands stayed planted between her shoulders, big palm flat, holding her still. Pressing her down just enough to make her feel the control. The other hand was wild with it—slapping her ass, jiggling the softness between his fingers, spreading her open so he could watch her take him.
“Just like that,” he muttered finally, voice low, breath heavy, “Stay right there. You takin’ it now.”
She nodded into her arm, body jolting with every bounce of her ass.
“Can’t even talk no more, huh?” he said, smacking her again, “All that mouth you had? Gone.” He gripped her cheeks and pulled them apart, watching his dick disappear inside her soaked pussy, “Listen to that shit.”
Their bodies were loud now. Wet claps. Deep grunts. Her gasps growing frantic.
“You gon’ learn how to act.” Another thrust. Deeper, “You gon’ stop playin’ with me.” Another slap. Louder, “You gon’ remember who run this pussy.”
His hips never stopped moving, his dick bullying her into silence. Sanaa let out a choked cry, trying to lift her head. Erik shoved her back down with the hand on her back.
“Uh uh,” he said, “You stay right there and take this dick like the nasty lil’ brat you been actin’ like.”
She started sobbing for real, wet and messy, trying to push back and take more at the same time.
“Don’t run, slut. You begged for this. You needed this, right? I’m just remindin’ you.”
And he was. With every stroke.
Sanaa’s body had passed the point of no return. Her arms hung limp over the back of the couch, face still buried in the crook of her elbow, sweat glistening along her spine. Her legs shook beneath her, toes curled hard into the cushions. Erik hadn’t said a single word in minutes. He was fucking the breath out of her. Hard. Vicious. Ruthless. With power. With punishment. Just dick. Every stroke knocked her forward, ass bouncing back from the sheer force of his hips. Her pussy sounded obscene, wet and clapping loud beneath her. Her body tried to run from it, but he was gripping her tight, dragging her back onto him, over and over again.
Sanaa couldn’t breathe right. Her mouth stayed open but nothing came out except strangled gasps and helpless moans. Her climax had been building from the first time he pushed inside her, slow and deep, but now—now it was boiling up her spine, thick and hot and feral. Her pussy clenched down hard around him, squeezing like her body was trying to trap him, hold him hostage. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, hips jerking like they didn’t know whether to run or grind back harder.
And Erik didn’t stop. He beat that pussy up. No mercy. No tenderness. Just raw fucking. The kind that made her see colors behind her eyelids. The pressure hit all at once—right at the base of her belly, then spreading wide, then down. She cried out, high and broken, choking on her own breath as the orgasm ripped through her.
Her body convulsed. Back arched. Pussy fluttering around his dick in desperate waves. Erik didn’t stop his pace. He continued to beat that pussy up.
Sanaa’s pussy stretched around him. Letting our broken sounds—soft and shocked. She wasn’t prepared to feel him that deep. His hips met her from behind with a hard clap. The impact traveled through her ass, up her spine, and into the back of her skull. Her vision blurred a little. And her mouth remained unhinged.
Sanaa tried to push her knees wider but it didn’t help. Daddy was still too much.
Erik watched her from behind, tongue sitting at the corner of his mouth, a slight smirk on his lips. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her back while he thrusted forward like she weighed nothing.
His voice low, that Oakland lingo curling around her spine.
“This dick got you floatin’. Daddy got you gone, huh?”
Sanaa tried to answer but only got air. Her mind was foggy. She felt the room spin a little. Every time Erik slid out and slammed back in, her body jerked forward like she was being yanked out of herself. Sanaa grabbed at the back of the sofa because her arms were the only thing keeping her from falling flat.
That pussy was wet enough that the sounds echoed in the living room. Slick. Loud. Sloppy. Every stroke pushed a gasp out of her. She could not control her voice. Tighten her legs. Think. She started trying to shift.
Sitting up? Failed.
Reaching back? Failed.
Pull forward to control the impact? Failed.
Erik reached up with one hand and pressed the center of her lower back, forcing her arch deeper. Her ass lifted higher without her meaning to. The angle opened her up so far she felt a sharp pull in her stomach. Her eyes rolled. Her breath stuttered.
“Yeah. There she go. Daddy told you not to run.”
His tone was calm. Almost gentle.
It made her wetter.
She tried to inch forward, but he caught her hips and dragged her right back onto him.
“Stay on this dick like I said,” His voice sounded patient. Too damn calm, “You wanted this. Take it.”
Sanaa nodded without knowing she nodded. Her thoughts came in pieces. Heat. Pressure. Breathing. Wet. Deep. Deeper. Too much. More.
Erik sped up, hips hitting her with sharp, rhythmic thrusts that lifted her halfway off the sofa each time. The whole world narrowed to the feeling of him pounding her. She felt taken. Filled. Held in place. Her body kept clenching around him because it was begging for more even though her voice could not form a single word.
Sanaa’s stomach tightened. The pressure inside her grew fast and overwhelming. She felt a wave roll up her spine so strong her hands slipped on the sofa for a second.
Erik saw it. Felt her pulse around him.
He gripped her waist with one hand harder.
“Daddy got you wide open. Say it.”
She tried. Nothing came out but a whine.
He leaned over her back, lips near her ear, “Say it, baby.”
“I’m open,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I’m open for you. I c-c-can’t think.”
Erik smiled against her shoulder, “That’s it. Daddy got you gone. Let it happen.”
Sanaa soaked the base of him, thighs messy, ass shaking as her climax wracked her from head to toe. It wasn’t gentle. It was violent, needy, a full-body surrender. throat tight, pussy gripping him in long pulses she could not stop. Sanaa was spaced out, head empty, breath broken. All she could hear was him behind her and the wet slap of her body taking every ounce of what he gave.
He kept fucking her through it, body meeting with flush thrusts against hers, dick pulsing thick and hard as her cries turned to helpless sobs. Sanaa reached for anything. The couch. The fabric. Her own skin. Anything to ground her.
Erik held her in place while she came, guiding her through it with slow, deep thrusts that kept her right on the edge of falling apart again.
“That’s Daddy’s girl,” he said, low and warm, hand stroking her hip while she shook, “So sweet when you lose yourself.”
But Erik kept going. And that pussy kept taking it. Every inch. Every thrust. Every bruise-deep reminder of who had her like this.
Her body was wrecked, but Erik hadn’t slowed once.
He was balls-deep, hands locked on her shoulders now, dragging her back onto him like she was weightless. His grip was firm, possessive, muscles flexed along his arms, forearms bulging with every pull. The wet slap of skin echoed through the room—hard, sharp, relentless. just pure fuckin’ force.
Her cheek stayed planted against the sectional, breath choppy, spilling frantic. Her pussy was being pounded without mercy, swollen and sensitive, sucking him in. Sanaa turned her head, barely, neck twisted so she could see him from the corner of her eye. That stuck look on her face told it all—mouth slack, brows raised, tears caught on her lashes. She was gone. Dick drunk. Fucked open and filled.
Erik looked right back at her. Eyes low. Locked in. Lip caught between his teeth like he was holding back a groan that could tear through walls. His abs tightened with each thrust, his hips working in a brutal rhythm. Sweat dripped from his chest, slid down the deep ridges of his torso. And then he reached for her head, palmed the back of it. He pressed her cheek back down against the cushion like he was putting her in position for execution.
“Keep your eyes forward.”
He let his hips do the talking. Slowed the stroke—but not the depth. Dragged it all the way out. Ground back in deep with a slow, whining roll of his hips, letting her feel every inch, every throb.
Her pussy opened for it. Took it. Sanaa’s ass bounced, thighs shaking under his grip. He leaned over her, close enough for her to feel his breath against the back of her neck. That heavy, ragged, ruthless breath of a man who knew he was deep in it. Who wasn’t pulling out. Who wasn’t letting up.
His hips rolled again, slower now, deeper, grinding that dick inside her like he wanted to stir her guts and mark them.
“Yes…fuck this pussy like that…”
Her voice cracked mid-sentence, thick with need, broken from too much. She could barely get the words out, but they spilled anyway—greedy, mindless, slutty.
Erik’s eyes darkened. He grabbed her by that low bun with one rough twist of his fist and pulled her head around. Her mouth parted in a soft gasp, and he bent down, caught her lips in a messy, nasty kiss. Didn’t even wait for permission. Flicked his tongue against hers, wet and teasing, then deeper—slow and nasty like he wanted to taste the whimpers still stuck in her throat. All the while, he held his dick buried inside her. Pressed in to the hilt. Not moving just siting thick inside her, filling her so good it made her whine straight into his mouth.
Her fingers reached back, tried to push at his abs, her breath catching as she twitched beneath him. Erik pulled out slow—slick, swollen, the whole length gliding against her soaked walls—then slammed back in with a force that made the sofa groan beneath them both.
“Yeah,” he said finally, voice a growl in her ear, “That pussy stretched now, ain’t it?”
He did it again.
Pulled out slow. Let her feel the slide. Let her know what she gave up. Then drove back in deep, rough, full-body thrusts that rattled her bones.
“I’m a leave you sore.”
Sanaa whimpered, nodding, clenching around him because she wanted to be wrecked. He watched her hand grip the back of the sofa, watched her legs buckle again as her slick dripped down onto the cushion.
“You gon’ make a mess on this sofa, huh?” Another stroke. Mean. Precise, “You sittin’ here with this pussy so fuckin’ wet it’s leakin.”
She whined louder, body rocking with the rhythm of his dick.
“All that smart ass talk you be doin’—for what? Just to let me fuck you stupid like this? Givin’ this shit up like it don’t mean nothin’. Lettin’ me beat it up raw.”
Her mouth opened. No words came out. Just a sound, high and gone.
“You lettin’ me nut in it again too, huh?” Another thrust. Another bounce, “Say it.”
“I—yes, Daddy—”
“Say you want me to leave my nut right up in this pussy.”
She nodded fast, sobbing a little, pushing her ass back onto him like she wanted him deeper than deep. Erik dragged her head back by her bun again, breathing hot against her ear, watching her fall apart in his grip.
“Then shut up and take it.”
And she did. Like it was the only thing she knew how to do. Erik dragged his dick slow out of her then rammed it back in so deep her ass bounced and her breath caught in her throat. That arch in her back was illegal—deep, curved like submission carved straight into her spine.
______
He stared down at it, jaw clenching.
“Should send that nigga Nathan a pic of this nasty arch you got in your back,” he spat, breath ragged and hard as he ground into her from behind. “Bet that nigga won’t hit you up no more after he see how I got you.”
Then—
Crack.
He slapped her ass rough. Rough enough to sting. Rough enough to leave her hips jerking and her lips trembling. She cried out, but Erik didn’t give her time to catch her breath. He grabbed her by the arm and made her sit up—dragged her back, chest up, hands scrambling to grab the top of the couch for balance.
“Look forward,” he ordered, low and sharp, “Keep that fuckin’ noise to yourself.”
Sanaa stared straight ahead, eyes glossy, breath hitching. Erik grabbed her hips, squared them, and sank back into that pussy with a thrust that stole her soul. She gasped—but caught it. Bit her lip and locked it down. Didn’t make a sound.
Erik smirked behind her, knowing damn well her body was screaming even if her mouth stayed shut. He fucked her just like that—hard, deep, without mercy. His hips crashed into her ass, each stroke sending a ripple up her spine. Her thighs trembled. Arms locked. Nails dug into the fabric.
Her body was humming. She felt every inch, every vein, every throb. That dick was killing her, filling her, breaking her down. He wasn’t giving her space to breathe, wasn’t giving her an inch of control. Domination. And she asked for it. She knew it would feel this good. Sanaa’s head dropped forward, eyes fluttering shut. Her lip caught between her teeth. She was doing everything she could to hold the noises in, but her pussy was creaming without her permission. Dripping. Pulsing. She was close. So close. But he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t slow. Wouldn’t let her run.
And that made her wetter. That made her hate him a little. Because he always got what he wanted. And all she could do was take it.
Erik held her hips like he built her body himself. His fingers dug into her skin firm enough to remind her who she opened herself up for. His stance was wide. His chest rose heavy and slow. He watched every inch of her bent over in front of him.
His eyes dragged over the arch in her back.
The lift of her ass.
The shine between her thighs.
The way she trembled each time he pushed deep.
His jaw flexed. His nostrils flared. A low groan slipped out when she tightened around him. Deep in his chest. The sound a grown man makes when the pleasure hits harder than he expects. Her pussy wrapped around him like she was built to take him. Warm. Wet. Gripping him with every stroke. He felt her pulse around him and his eyes rolled half back before he caught himself.
“Look at this lil’ body.” His voice was thick, “Look how you let Daddy fit in you.”
He pumped into her again. The impact lifted her forward and she cried out, fingers clawing for balance. His eyes stayed locked on the place where they met. He watched the slide. The stretch. The way her pussy pulled back on him every time he backed out.
Erik shook his head slowly, almost laughing at how good it felt. “Greedy girl. Always takin’ this dick like you starved.”
Another stroke. Another clap of his hips against her ass. Another deep grunt from him that vibrated through the room.
Erik straightened his back and looked down at her like she was something he owned. Something trained. Something hd enjoyed breaking open.
“You my lil’ slut, huh,” the calm in his voice made her wetter, “knew it soon as you started playin’ innocent ‘round me. Fake shy. Body tellin’ me everything.”
Sanaa moaned into the sofa and her spine curved deeper.
Erik grabbed her ass with both hands and spread her open wider. His thumb pressed into the soft, give of her cheeks while he watched his dick slide insider her again. Erik let out another groan, rougher, pleasure hitting him straight in the gut.
“Damn, look at this pretty shit,” his tone dropped even lower, “This young pussy stay beggin’ me to put dick in it, huh, lil’ slut?”
He thrust again. Hard enough to knock her breath loose. Sanaa gasped, back arching, vision blurring. Erik watched her lose herself and his lips parted like he needed air.
“Yeah. That is it.” His voice got raspy, “Go stupid for it. Daddy likes that. Daddy likes that.”
Erik pulled her hips back onto him, forcing her to take every inch with no escape. Her body jolted with each stroke. Her sounds turned soft and broken and helpless.
He stared down at her.
Patience mixed with raw need.
“You mine, ain’t you, lil’ hoe.”
He said it like a fact. Not a question. Because he knew the answer. Erik’s hips rolled his hips deeper, slower, making her feel every part of him.
“Open up. There you go. Let Daddy fill all this pretty pussy.”
Her stomach tightened and her head dropped. She was slipping again, mind going foogy, body doing whatever he told it to. Erik watched her come apart from behind.
A grown ass man. Not the lil’ niggas she used to.
Steady. Focused.
Enjoying every second of how she shook for him.
“Oh, you perfect like this,” he breathed out, voice thick with pleasure, “stupid for me. Don’t fight it. Take what Daddy givin’ you.”
Erik pulled her back into him with one firm hand around the front of her neck. Claiming that space right under her jaw where she felt every heartbeat. His fingers spread wide, thumb resting against her throat, steady pressure keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
His other hand pressed down on the small of her back. Heavy. Solid. A silent order. Her spine dipped. Her ass lifted. She felt her whole body fall into the shape he wanted like it remembered him more than she remembered herself.
“Stay right there,” he said, voice calm and low behind her, “Daddy got the rest.”
Sanaa let out a shaky sound. Her arms trembled. She felt the room tilt again. Her mind started to space out the moment he held her neck like that. The weight of his palm made her feel smaller. Made her feel kept. Made her feel owned in a way that turned her inside out.
Erik watched her back curve. Watched her body offer itself without a word. His grip on her neck tightened just a little.
“That’s my lil baby girl,” he said. “Look how fast you fold for me.”
His hand on her throat caught the inhale and rolled back into a gasp. Her knees shook. Pussy throbbed.
He pressed her lower back again, pushing her into a deeper arch.
“You hear me talkin’ to you,” he continued, “Answer Daddy.”
“Yessss,” she whispered, voice thin and gone.
He laughed under his breath, “You such a pretty lil’ slut for me.”
Her pussy clenched around nothing and her breath broke. He guided her back onto him slow at first, hand controlling her throat so she stayed upright, hand on her back so she could not rise away. He set the pace. Not her. Never her. When he pushed into her fully, she cried out, body jolting forward, palms slipping on the sheets. His grip on her throat kept her from falling.
“Uh huh. Take this fuckin’ dick.” His voice stayed steady. “You begged for this. Acted up. Teasin’ Daddy like you grown.”
He pulled her back on him again, harder, filling her in one long stroke that made her stomach clench. Her mind blurred. She felt dizzy. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
He stared down at her. Eyes low. Lips parted. That older man hunger mixed with complete confidence.
“Look at that,” he said, “My greedy girl. Baby girl stay reachin’ for more like she got no sense.”
Her body rocked with every thrust. She tried to crawl forward but he caught her throat and held her still.
“No. You stay right here with Daddy.” His tone dropped even lower, “I said I got you.”
She whimpered, breath catching in his hand.
“You proud of yourself?” he asked, voice soft but filthy, “Proud you get Daddy this hard? Proud you got me talkin’ like this? Dick feelin’ so good in your pussy, mama?”
She nodded fast. Too fast. He tightened his fingers around her throat just enough to make her slow down.
“Good girl. Slow it. Feel me movin’ you.”
He rolled his hips deep, slow, dominant, making her feel every inch. Sanaa’s stomach tightened again. Her vision blurred. She was spaced out, floating, her body taking what he gave without her mind catching up.
“You makin’ Daddy so proud,” he said. “Look how you stay open for me. Look how you let me fuck you like this.”
She moaned. Her legs trembled again. He pushed her lower. Bent her deeper. Held her throat firmer.
“This what happen when you tease me,” he said, “Now Daddy got you good. Dumb for on it. Shakin’ all over.”
Her voice cracked into a whine.
“Say it,” he told her, “Say you my lil’ slut.”
“I’m your lil slut,” she whispered, almost crying with how full she felt.
“Good girl.” His tone warmed, “Now let Daddy finish givin’ you everything you kept beggin’ for.”
“Daddy,” Sanaa whispered, just a soft plea, “Daddy…I can’t think.”
Erik heard it the second her tone changed. He tightened his grip on her waist, steady and warm. His other hand slipped up the front of her throat, holding her in place. His thumb stroked her bottom lip soothingly.
“I know, baby girl,” he said, voice calm, “You fallin’. Daddy got you. I know it’s a lot. But you wanted this…”
She made a broken sound, almost a sob, but sweet. Her mind floated. Her thoughts slipped away. She felt small. Safe. Fucked out.
“Daddy keep me,” she whispered, “Please? I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.”
Sanaa was in another dimension at this point.
Erik nodded slow behind her, eyes heavy as he took her in.
“You better be,” he said, “You know how you get when you act up. You end up right here. Bust open. Shakin’. Callin’ for Daddy like you lost.”
Sanaa whimpered again, body slack, breath shallow.
Her voice was tiny, “Don’t let go of me. Please. Daddy please.”
His hand on her throat stayed firm. Grounding. Claiming. Certain.
“I said I got you,” he told her, “You stay right here in this. You hear me?”
“Yes Daddy.” Her voice cracked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease. I just…I needed you.”
“That’s why Daddy teachin’ you.” His tone dipped into that low, older-man authority that made her melt harder, “You think you can run your lil’ mouth, shake your lil’ ass at me, then not fall apart on this dick? You not built for that.”
Erik’s hand slid from her throat to her jaw, tilting her head so he could hear her better.
“You stay where Daddy puts you,” he said, “You breathe how I tell you to breathe. You don’t go floatin’ off without me.”
She nodded hard, tears at the edge of her lashes. Pussy clenching around his still hard dick.
“Daddy keep teaching me,” she whispered, “Please. Don’t stop. I’ll be good.”
“Yeah,” he said, “You my pretty lil’ bitch. You don’t know how to behave unless Daddy get you right.”
Her body loosened even more at his tone.
Her voice was almost gone.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t stop fuckin’ me.”
“I’m right here,” he said, palm warm on her jaw, “Stay with me. Listen to Daddy. You safe. Let daddy fuck you. Let daddy make you cum, okay?”
Her mouth parted. She slipped further. Her voice was a whisper of a whisper.
“Daddy…keep doing it. Please. Please. Keep going.”
His voice turned even quieter.
Even more controlled.
“Good girl. Stay in Daddy’s hands. On daddy’s dick. Let me guide you. You wanted this. Now you learnin’ how to take it.”
Erik’s grip on her hips tightened as her pussy started to flutter. That creamy, soaked mess was clutching him tighter with every stroke. She was damn near convulsing, whole body trembling, arch deep, thighs quaking. She was coming.
And he felt it. Knew it in the way she started to shake. The way her pussy squeezed and sucked at his dick like it was begging him to stay in and finish with her.
“Fuck,” Erik groaned, digging in deeper, slower for a breath, then harder again. His abs flexed, shoulders rolling, the veins in his arms thick and raised. He was right there too, balls heavy, dick swollen, the kind of hard that made his own body twitch with the need to bust.
Sanaa reached back, crying out, trying to grab him—anything to hold on. But Erik caught her wrist mid-reach, twisted it gently, and locked it behind her back. Palm flat between her shoulder blades again, pinning her forward with control.
“Nah. Stay right there.” His other hand reached down, cupping her dripping cunt, feeling every twitch, “Good pussy,” he growled, his breath ragged now. “Creamy ass pussy.” His thrusts stayed deep, purposeful, each one slamming into her soaked walls with a noise that sounded wetter than it should’ve been, “Greedy pussy girl. You love this shit, don’t you? Can’t help yourself.”
Sanaa sobbed out, high and open. Then it snapped. Her body buckled, back bowed, and that climax ripped through her like a tidal wave. She screamed—loud, wrecked, wild.
“Daddy!”
Erik’s hips stuttered, his jaw clenched, his groans turned into thick grunts. Still in her. Still grinding.
“You cumming for me, Princess?” he panted, eyes locked on her body shaking beneath him.
That name broke her.
“Yes, Daddy,” she cried out, all soft and ruined. Barely audible.
He fucked her right through it.
“Keep cumming on this dick. Wet this dick up. Give me all that shit. Don’t hold it in. Push it out.”
And she did.
She let go fully, pussy pulsing. Then squirting just enough to make it messy. Dripping down both their thighs. Body limp now, spent and twitching.
Erik hit her with two more strokes—deep, fast, full-body thrusts that slammed the air out of her chest—and then pulled out quick, grabbing the base of his dick, stroking hard, groaning through clenched teeth. His nut hit her lower back in thick ropes, hot and heavy, splattering across her brown skin.
Sanaa’s face twisted, head turning over her shoulder, breathless and confused. She was expecting to feel that thick cum deep inside her, like last time. She was used to being filled up by now. He promised…right? He said he would give it to her.
“Wha—” she whispered, still catching her breath.
Erik wiped the tip of his dick along her back with a smirk, “Nah,” he said low, still out of breath, “This yo’ punishment.”
She blinked, stunned.
“You don’t get my nut in that pussy since you like to misbehave.” He leaned in close, hand still pressing her wrist behind her back, “Since you like to forget who run this.”
She didn’t say a word. All she could do was lay there—wrecked, messy, throbbing—and remember exactly who did. Sanaa lay stretched over the back of the sectional, skin flushed, back sticky with his nut, thighs trembling from everything he’d just pulled out of her. Her arms had gone soft, her breath unsteady, and her mouth twisted into a pout without her even meaning to.
Erik looked down at her, standing tall, chest rising heavy, dick glistening with her mess, still stiff despite the nut he just spilled across her back. Sweat clung to every inch of him—his shoulders, his stomach, the raised scars running down his torso like a story she still didn’t know all the way.
He chuckled under his breath, “Tsk, tsk,” he tsk’d, voice low, teasing, “Fix that pretty face.”
Sanaa’s eyes dragged up over him, slow and needy. He looked devastating. Sweaty, muscles shaking just slightly from how deep he’d been digging in her, jaw tight, arms flexed, locs damp. The type of fine that should’ve come with a warning. Her pussy clenched again, fluttering from the aftershocks.
Erik stepped in close, kneeling behind her, and his hand came to her thighs. Gentle this time. He slid his fingers up through the mess between her legs, rubbing her slow softly like she hadn’t just been fucked dumb minutes ago.
“Still twitchin’, huh?” he muttered, fingers slick.
Sanaa whined into the cushion, hips bucking just a little. He leaned in closer, hand rubbing smooth and lazy between her folds, voice dropping to something gentler.
“Shoulda done this last time. Left you layin’ in that mess like I ain’t care,” he spoke low, “Daddy sorry, baby.” His fingers moved in slow circles, not to tease, not to play, just to soothe her, ease her down, “I got you this time,” he said softly, “I’ll clean you up.”
Erik brought his hand back, glistening with her juices, and without breaking eye contact, slid his fingers into his mouth. Sucked them clean. Tongue slow. Eyes heavy.
Sanaa’s lips parted. Her body jerked again.
Erik stood tall, bent down, and wrapped an arm under her knees and one beneath her back. Lifted her right off the couch like she weighed nothing.
“C’mon, Princess,” he said, kissing her shoulder.
She rested her head against his chest, letting her eyes fall shut to the sound of his breath and the warmth of his skin. He carried her through the apartment like she was breakable. Straight into the bathroom.
And this time, he kept his word.
Erik set her down easy on the edge of the tub, her thighs still slick, her body soft and pliant with satisfaction. She leaned into the cool tile behind her while he crouched down to turn the water on. The sound filled the bathroom, a low calming rush that contrasted the filthy mess they’d just made in the other room.
He looked up at her, “What you like in your bath, Bri?” he asked, voice softer now, “Lavender? Eucalyptus? You got that little oil set in the basket over there, right?”
She blinked at him, still floating, then nodded slow, “Lavender…and them oatmeal salts.”
“Say less.”
He poured both into the tub, steam rising. The water turned cloudy, milky with oils. Once it filled, Erik tested the temperature with his fingers, then came back to lift her in. She melted right into the warmth, letting her muscles sink, a slow exhale leaving her lips as she settled. He knelt by the edge, fingers trailing along the surface. Then he cupped her chin, tilted her face to his, and kissed her hard. Deep. Mouth wet, tongue slick and slow. A filthy kiss laced with tenderness. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered.
“You gon’ be a good girl next time?” he asked, low and deliberate, “That’s the only way you get my nut back in that pussy.”
She bit her bottom lip, eyes heavy, “Yes, Daddy,” she said soft.
He stood with a smirk, leaned in to kiss her cheek, and let her relax back in the bath alone.
Out in the living room, Erik moved fast. He slid on his black sweats, no draws, the fabric hanging low on his hips, dick still half-hard against the cotton. He looked around. The throw blanket had caught most of her squirt—thank God.
He gathered it up, quick, then wiped down the couch cushion just to be safe. Lysol’d the air. Opened the balcony door a crack and flipped on the wax warmer sitting on the shelf. The scent hit quick. Fresh, clean. Like sandalwood and citrus. Masculine. Clean enough to erase every trace of Sanaa’s wet pussy from the air. He tossed the throw in the washer, punched in the cycle.
And just as he shut the lid, he heard the front door click.
Aaliyah stepped in with a classmate trailing behind her—tall, brown-skinned girl with a twist-out and big almond eyes.
Erik was still shirtless, sweat-slicked, skin glowing.
“You just came from the gym?” Aaliyah asked, eyeing him, voice suspicious.
The girl next to her was straight-up ogling.
“Girl.” Aaliyah side-eyed her. “Stop starin’ at my brother. Damn.” She turned back to Erik, “Can you put on a shirt or somethin’? You embarrassing me.”
Erik didn’t say shit. Just lifted a brow and turned away, letting the waistband of those sweats sit low while he walked off, back muscles flexing.
The girls slipped past toward Aaliyah’s room, giggling.
Aaliyah cracked the hallway bathroom door on her way.
“Hey, Bri!” she called, “Naima is here!”
Sanaa’s voice floated back, muffled and sweet through the steam.
“Hey, girl! Hey Naima!”
They disappeared into the bedroom. And Erik went back to cleaning like he wasn’t just rearranging that girl’s guts ten minutes ago.
______
Sanaa lingered in the steamy haze of the bathroom, the hot water from the tub slowly cooling around her as she tried to summon the strength to move. Her body felt heavy, every muscles protesting the effort, especially her legs—wobbly as if they’d been replaced with strands of overcooked noodles. The ache between her thighs was a persistent throb, her pussy tender and swollen from the way Erik had claimed her, that thick dick stretching her wide and leaving her feeling deliciously raw. She shifted slightly, a sharp twinge making her gasp, and ran her fingers lightly over her sensitive pussy lips, marveling at the lingering warmth. It wasn’t just the physical soreness; there was a deeper satisfaction, a glow that radiated from within making her skin flush with a post-climax haze that made everything seem a little dreamier, a little more alive.
Finally, she hauled herself out of the tub, water dropping from her body as she reached for her towel. After patting her skin enough to leave it damp to touch, Sanaa reached for her body oil on the shelf. She poured a generous amount into her hands, the sweet, floral scent of jasmine filling the bathroom. She smoothed it over her skin with delicate strokes, starting at her shoulders and working down, the oil gliding across her breasts, nipples still peaked and sensitive from Erik’s insistent touches. Then lower, where she paused to massage the slick warmth into her thighs and the soft mound of her pussy. Each gentle rub eased the ache a bit, but it also stirred faint echoes of pleasure, reminding her of how he’d pinned her against the sofa, his hands everywhere.
Sanaa dressed in an oversized T-shirt that draped loosely over her frame and baggy pajama pants that did little to hide the slight waddle in her step. Sanaa caught her reflection in the fogged mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with that unmistakable afterglow, and she opened the door, the cool air of the hallway hitting her like a whisper of reality, making her acutely aware of how she moved. Her hips swayed unevenly as if the memory of Erik’s thrusts still echoed in her bones.
Stepping into the hallway, Sanaa paused, listening to the muffled chatter from Aaliyah's room down the hall. But all she could focus on was the delicious soreness that made every step a reminder of what they’d shared. There was a quiet thrill in knowing he’d left his mark on her, a secret intimacy that made her heart race even as her body protested. Sanaa leaned against the wall for a moment, gathering herself before heading out towards the front of the apartment, her gait betraying her in a way that might draw curious eyes but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when the memory of his touch still lingered.
Sanaa eased herself down onto the sofa, careful with her movements. The cushion dipped beneath her, familiar in a way that made her pulse jump. She smoothed her fingers over the fabric without thinking, slow circles pressed into the exact spot where her body had given out earlier. Her touch lingered there, breath catching a little. The memory pushed through her like a warm flush.
Aaliyah’s door swung open. She came out talking a mile a minute with Naima right behind her, that tall girl with the twist-out and big almond eyes. They were laughing about something that happened in class, hands flying everywhere. Naima kept adjusting her crop top and trying to act like she wasn’t still thinking about Erik’s bare back.
They wandered into the living room, loud with gossip at the same time. Sanaa tried to appear normal. She tucked her legs under her, propped her elbow on the armrest, and let her hair fall over one shoulder. She could still feel her thighs tremble every time she moved them too close together.
Erik came out without a sound. He had put a shirt on, but it did nothing to hide the shape of him. He leaned one shoulder against the entryway, arms crossed, quiet in that way that always made people look twice. His eyes swept the room, until they landed on her.
Sanaa’s chest tightened.
He held her gaze. Not for a second. Not accidental. He looked at her like he had already touched every part of her and remembered how she sounded when she came apart. His eyes lowered to her mouth, then the line of her throat, then the lazy drape of her T-shirt. Those dark eyes traveled back up and stayed locked on hers.
Something inside her slipped. Her breath stuttered. She dragged her fingers over the cushion again. Not consciously. Her body did it on its own. The fabric was soft but the reminder was not. Her spine curved in a slow arch she didn’t mean to show him.
Erik’s jaw flexed. Subtle. The way he stood there felt like he was closing the space anyway. She felt his attention like a hand on the inside of her knee. Sanaa shifted and tried to hide the way her breath hitched. Her fingers closed around the cushion in a gentle grip.
Aaliyah collapsed into the armchair across from her, still talking to Naima, “Girl, my professor is wild. I swear he gave us a whole hour lecture on why folks don’t know how to email.” She rolled her eyes, “Sanaa, you heard me tell you about him before, right?”
Sanaa blinked. She tried to turn toward them, but Erik’s stare dragged over her again and her whole body tightened. Her throat bobbed when she swallowed. She could barely pull her eyes away. Her face felt hot. Her legs shifted in a slow, careful motion to try to relieve the pressure building inside her.
Sanaa straightened, “Yeah. I’m cool.” She tried to smile, but it felt too shaky.
Naima plopped onto the other side of the sofa, “You sure? You look like you just woke up from a nap or somethin’.”
Sanaa nodded, “Long bath. Almost fell asleep in there.”
Aaliyah snorted, “You actin’ like you had a whole spa day, bitch.”
Erik lifted his chin just enough for her to see it. A private acknowledgment. Heat slid through her belly. Her breath dipped for a moment. She looked away too slow, giving herself away. But Aaliyah noticed none of it. She kept talking to Naima about a class group chat full of drama.
Erik kept his eyes on Sanaa.
Her chest rose in a slow inhale she tried to hide.
From across the room, Erik let his tongue slip across the inside of his cheek. His eyes did one more sweep of her legs tucked up on the sofa, the loose fall of her shirt, the glow still sitting on her skin.
Two Days Later…
It had only been two days. Forty-eight hours, give or take since Erik had lasted touched her, but Sanaa swore it felt longer than that. Her body was going through withdrawals. Brain scrambled. Pussy tight and aching. She’d been moving through the week with a short fuse and slick ass thighs, stuffing with no focus, scrolling with no real purpose, half way listening in class while replaying flashbacks of that big ass dick punishing her like it was made to shut her ass up. And it was worse because he was everywhere. Every time she looked up, there he was. Fine as hell and smelling like fresh linen and that clean, warm masculine scent that always unravels her.
Now here she was, awake at 1:43 am, laying in bed with her T-shirt hiked up, fingers halfway between her legs but not doing a damn thing to satisfy her. She didn’t want to fuck herself. She didn’t want to use her vibrator. She wanted him. Big, slow, nasty. The way he bent her over left a permanent arch in her back. The way he fingered her pussy so good making her crave his fingers more than she’d ever wanted it. She remembered how he dragged his tongue over her clit, held her open, didn’t rush a thing. How he smirked with her taste on his face and her mess on his dick.
That was the kind of dick she was missing.
Sanaa sat up.
Fuck this.
Sanaa padded quietly into the hall, heart tapping against her ribs. She didn’t go straight to his room. She moved past it, tiptoeing down the hallway, pausing outside of Aaliyah’s door.
Sanaa cracked it.
Inside, her friend was knocked out in bed, one leg tangled in the sheets, AirPods still in, the screen of her phone dimly lit beside her—notifications stacked, audiobook still playing from where it left off. Sanaa watched a beat longer, just to be sure. Aaliyah never stirred. Sanaa shut the door gently. Then, she turned. Barely breathing. Tiptoed back towards her room. She closed her door shut and stood there in the quiet, body already warming up with a need she couldn’t sleep through.
Sanaa moved in the silence, every step quiet, her breath low but her body already tingling with need. She turned the knob on Erik’s door gently, opening it just enough to peek inside.
He was there.
In bed, propped up on one arm, still awake. Lights low. No shirt. Joggers on. Those brown eyes locked on her from across the room like he’d been waiting on her to make a move. Sanaa’s heart jumped. Pussy throbbed hard.
She slipped inside without a word. Without an invite.
If he didn’t stop her, she wasn’t leaving.
The door eased shut behind her like she was hiding. That quiet sneaking when you know exactly what you want and already made peace with not regretting it.
Click.
The soft click echoed, louder than it should’ve in the quiet. Her back pressed gently against the wood, breath stilling in her chest as her eyes adjusted to the dark. The room was low-lit—TV screen casting a dull blue glow across the bed, flickering shadows that danced over his skin.
Erik was sitting up now. Sheets kicked low around his waist. His chest was bare, all deep bronze and hard lines, the keloid scars carved across him like stories she hadn’t read yet. His locs were pulled back in a loose tie, a few strands falling forward near his face. One of them touched his collarbone.
He looked up at her, slow like he smelled something sweet.
That smile curved lazy on one side.
Sanaa stayed where she was for a second. Breathing steady. Head tilted. Eyes on his. Her lips were parted just a little, her skin glowing warm in the flicker of the screen. The steam from the treatment she’d done to her hair earlier still clung to her—moist spirals curled down her shoulders, parted deep on one side, sticking soft to her neck in places. Her earrings caught the light when she shifted—small diamonds, delicate, gleaming like she wore them on purpose just for this.
“What ya lil’ ass doing in my room,” he whispered, voice dipped and quiet.
Sanaa’s giggle came soft and pretty, tugging at the tension like a bowstring, “I miss you.”
Her voice floated out, feathered and smooth.But her eyes…they dropped. Traced the slope of his chest down to the spread of his thighs. Paused.
Stayed.
He caught it.
Erik stood, chest rising, that smirk never leaving his face. His body filled the space like a wall. He stepped forward, looking down at her.
“Miss me,” he asked, voice low, “or this dick, baby? Don’t lie either.”
She looked up at him, face calm but eyes sparkling, “Both…but that dick more.”
Erik chuckled, a sharp inhale through his nose and teeth. He shook his head slow like she was ridiculous, but he liked it, “You a fuckin’ trip,” he said under his breath. “I like that shit though.”
His hand came up, cupped the side of her face. Thumb dragged across her bottom lip once. Then he just looked at her. His hand stayed at her face, that thumb still resting at the edge of her lip. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes. Then again. Sanaa tilted her chin just a little, lips parted, like she was already ready. Already his. He dipped down slow. Broad shoulders lowering. Those dark eyes never leaving hers until the last second, just before their mouths touched.
That first kiss landed deep. Full lips locking, warm and firm. The second kiss came harder. Slower. Wet. His mouth molded over hers like he needed to feel all of it, like he wanted to memorize the shape of her.
Sanaa rose to her tiptoes, soft whimper sliding from her throat as her nails dragged gently down his chest—just enough to tease, just enough to make him grunt through the kiss. Her hands slipped up, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling herself higher, pressing against him like she couldn’t get close enough. Erik’s hands found her waist—strong and steady, wide palms spreading over her curves. He squeezed once, then pulled her in. Closer. Like he wanted to fuse her body to his. Like letting go wasn’t an option.
Their tongues met slow at first, a slick drag and pull. Lips parting, breath catching, tongues twining together deeper with each pass. It got greedy quick. Messier. Their mouths didn’t break—not for air, not for hesitation. It was all teeth, breath, tongue, lips.
Sanaa whimpered again. Quiet. Needful.
Erik groaned low, brows pulling together like the taste of her made his brain short-circuit. He pushed her back just enough to hit the wall, never breaking the kiss, just changing the angle. Bent down deeper, mouth slanted harder, tongue sinking past her lips like he was searching for something inside her.
Their mouths broke with a wet drag, a soft gasp passing between them as the seal of that kiss finally snapped. The air felt thin now—heated and stolen. Sanaa’s lips were swollen, slick, tingling from how hard he’d kissed her. Her chest rose and fell fast, trying to catch up to what just happened.
Erik didn’t move far. He hovered close, breath heavy, beard brushing against her cheek as he looked down at her. His hands slid slow around the curve of her waist. Tracing the lines of her body like he was mapping it out. Then—
He gripped her ass.
Firm.
Both hands full, kneading deep. Like he liked the weight of it. Like it was his to touch. His thumbs dug in low at the crease and dragged upward in one long pull before settling back to squeeze again. That touch made her thighs press together, tight.
She let out a soft, shaky breath.
Erik dipped his head, lips finding her neck. Not gentle. He kissed her there like he’d been thinking about it. Like he needed that taste. His mouth opened wide against her skin, licking slow, sucking deeper right beneath her ear. Her knees buckled a little, but his grip held her steady.
Sanaa’s nipples hardened instantly beneath her shirt. That slick heat between her thighs had already started during the kiss, but now it pulsed. Her panties were damp—soaked—and she could feel how warm her body had become. Every inch of her was on edge, hyper-aware. Skin buzzing. Goosebumps scattered along her arms, down her thighs.
She threaded her fingers through his locs. They were soft but thick, clean and slightly damp at the ends like he’d washed them not long ago. Her nails scraped gently across his scalp. Erik groaned low at the touch, mouth dragging down to her collarbone, then back up to the hinge of her jaw where he sucked hard, slow, like he wanted to leave something behind.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
Her palm slid down his arm, feeling the way his biceps flexed under her touch—solid, thick, heavy muscle wrapped in warm, clean skin. She could feel the raised texture of his keloid scars there. Jagged. Firm. Like battle marks beneath her fingers. She stroked one with her thumb, slow and curious. They didn’t scare her. They made her ache for him.
Her hips shifted. Just enough for her pussy to brush against the front of his sweats. Her breath hitched. He hadn’t even touched her there, but her body was already aching. Already clenching. And Erik just kept licking her neck slow, one arm wrapped around her waist now, hand still locked tight on her ass. His lips dragged up to her ear.
“You feelin’ all that, huh,” he whispered low.
She whimpered again. Fingers curled in his hair. Pussy pulsing.
Yeah. She was feeling everything.
Her lip was already caught between her teeth, but now she bit it harder. Soft. Pretty. Like her body was trying to keep it together even while her pussy was giving her away.
Because she was feelin’ it. Every word he whispered, every grip, every drag of his mouth down her neck had her soaking through. Wetness growing slow and steady, deeper now. And that voice?
That voice was the switch.
“Killmonger,” she whispered, mouth close to his ear, “You make my pussy wet.”
She felt it. His dick twitched against her belly, thick and heavy through the cotton of his sweats.
Erik stilled.
His stare dropped to her face, slow and hard. Like he couldn’t believe she said that shit. Like he loved that she said it. His lips parted just slightly, breath catching, those gold slugs flashing through for half a second. Everything in his body tightened.
Her breath got softer, more shallow, but her hand moved with purpose. She reached for him. Found his hand—big, warm, calloused. Brought it to her mouth. Her eyes didn’t leave his as she lifted one of his fingers. Her lashes dropped low as she sucked it in slow, lips parting wide, tongue dragging up the underside. Wet and thick. Spit coating it. She pulled back just enough for it to stretch in a string before swallowing him again.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t even blink.
That look in his eyes? Changed. The second she said Killmonger, it flipped something inside him. Set him off quiet. But it wasn’t just in his stare—it was in how his chest rose higher now, how his dick was pressed harder into her, how his finger curled in her mouth just a little like he wanted to feel her suck for real. She let her lips pop off his fingertip, slick with her spit. Still looking up at him. Slow blinks. Pussy damn near dripping now.
“Say it again,” he rasped, voice tighter. Rougher.
Her lips curved just a little when he told her to say it again. She leaned in, breath brushing his mouth, voice low and teasing.
“Should I be scared, Killmonger…or wet?”
The way his eyes darkened told her everything. Before he could even answer, Sanaa grabbed his hand and dragged it down between her thighs. Guided it right where she needed him. Right where she was soaked. His fingers slid against her through her panties and shirt hem, instantly slick.
He felt it. All of it. Warm. Wet. Slippery.
“Damn,” he breathed.
She lifted one leg and wrapped it around his waist, foot hooking behind him. Erik caught it without thinking, strong arm locking under her thigh, holding her up like she weighed nothing. Her body tilted into him, pussy pressed right against his hand now.
He started rubbing. Back and forth. Back and forth. His palm and fingers moving over her folds, spreading that wetness, listening to the soft, obscene sound it made. His eyes stayed glued to his hand. Watching her open. Watching her react.
Sanaa’s head fell back against the wall. A soft moan slipped out. Then another. He rubbed faster with more pressure. Then he slid two fingers inside her. Fast. Hard. Deep. Finger popped her with quick, sharp thrusts that made her whole body jolt.
“Ah…Erik…” she gasped.
Her walls clenched around him immediately. Tight. Greedy. Wet as hell. He slowed. Pulled almost all the way out. Then went back to rubbing her again. Circling her clit. Dragging through her folds. Tapping her pussy lips lightly with his fingertips. Little wet pats that made quiet, filthy sounds every time he touched her. You could hear how soaked she was.
Plap. Plap. Slick. Wet.
Sanaa couldn’t help it. Her moan came out louder this time. Breathless. Shaky.
“Mmm…oh my God…”
Erik snapped his eyes up to her face. Gave her that look. That warning.
“Quiet all that noise down, girl,” he whispered rough, “Before you get us caught in this bitch.”
She bit her lip. Tried to behave. Failed immediately. Still breathing hard, still shaking on his hand, she leaned in close and whispered back with a soft, cocky smile.
“I like him better than you.”
His brows pulled together, “What?”
She blinked up at him, innocent and messy and soaking wet, “Killmonger,” she added, “He don’t play.”
The way his jaw clenched told her she had just started something she was not ready to finish running from.
Erik didn’t say a word. Just looked at her. That look. Then, he grabbed her. Lifted her clean off the floor like she was nothing but breath and softness. All strength. Arms locked tight around her thighs, body pulled up against his chest. Sanaa gasped, arms flying around his shoulders, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.
She loved when he handled her like that. Like she was his to pick up. His to move. His to fuck. He walked them over to the bed, dropped down at the edge, thighs spread, letting her settle in his lap with a soft bounce. She was straddling him now, nose to nose. Pussy right on top of that thick dick he kept pressing up through those damn sweats. Her eyes flicked down, smirk blooming on her lips.
But first, she kissed him again. Sucked his bottom lip slow, tugging it between her teeth. Let her tongue swirl there, lazy and wet. Erik’s hands were already moving. Palms dragging up under her shirt, fingers splaying over her back, her sides, her ribs. Exploring. Then, he found her breasts. Warm, soft, perfect in his hands. He groaned against her mouth, thumbs brushing over her nipples slow at first, then rolling them. Playing. Testing. Teasing. She whimpered into the kiss. Back arched a little. Her pussy grinding against him now with more purpose.
His dick jumped again beneath her. Hard. Sanaa felt it. Felt the way it pulsed between her legs—thick and eager, like it recognized her.
She pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, “You so excited about gettin’ in this pussy again, huh?”
He just stared at her. Breathing hard. Dick twitching again.
Sanaa licked her lips slow, still grinding on him, “You miss it that bad?” she teased.
She already knew the answer. But it was the way his hands gripped her tighter, the way his eyes dropped to her mouth like he was ready to devour her whole, that told her…
Yeah.
He did.
_______
He barely had time to react.
One minute, Erik was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders broad and chest rising steady with heat behind his eyes and the next she was pushing him back, palms flat on the firm press of his pecs. His body hit the bed. He didn’t bounce. Just laid there and let her take over.
Sanaa stood with her legs planted between his. Her eyes looked on him with that knowing look that made his dick twitch without being touched. Tension taut in the air like elastic about to snap. Sanaa lifted her shirt up in a slow strip tease, arms raised above her head as her brown tits with chocolate nipples bounced free. Erik’s eyes followed the movement, tongue pressing to the back of his teeth. That body? That fucking body? Smooth, slick little thing with curves that begged to be bent, gripped, and rearranged.
Sanaa tossed the shirt somewhere behind her, not caring where it landed and turned around, back facing him. She looked over her shoulder, lips curved like she already knew she was about to drive him wild.
Then she started moving.
Her bare ass rubbed over the front of his joggers, dragging back and forth right over where he was thickest. That bubbly ass bounced with every grind. Her movements were cocky, teasing just enough friction to feel him throb underneath.
Erik spread his legs wider, letting her settle in deeper.
“Mm,” she exhaled, bracing herself on his knees, “That what I’m sittin’ on?”
His hands gripped her hips for a second before sliding back, cupping both cheeks and letting them go with a light smack—then another. He alternated between left and right, just enough to make the skin ripple. His palms opened wide when they landed, fingers splaying across her ass like he was measuring it.
Sanaa let out a breathy gasp when he gripped one cheek tighter, spreading her just enough to feel how warm it was right underneath. She started bouncing then, hips rising and falling, grinding down with her back arched and her ass clapping gently over the ridge of his dick. Every bounce pressed her pussy closer, making him grunt low and strained through his teeth. Erik’s eyes dropped closed for a second but the tension in his jaw and the way his nostrils flared said everything.
“Fuck,” he groaned. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t surprised. It dragged out of him, heavy and grateful.
That lil’ ass was showin’ out.
Erik reached for her again. He gripped her ass tighter with both hands now, holding her steady as she rocked her hips in circles, letting the bounce turn into a whine and then back again. The weight of her body against his dick was just enough to torment him.
“You tryna make me nut in my draws?” His voice was low. Raspy. Too calm to match how badly he was leaking, “You gon’ keep fuckin’ playin’ with me like that?” His voice turned darker, filthier, each word sliding out like syrup, “Look at this lil’ pussy bouncin’. So fuckin’ wet. You really want it that bad, huh? Want me to slide in slow, or you want that deep shit that make you shake? That make your legs give out right here in front of me?”
She whimpered soft. Didn’t stop riding.
Erik popped her ass again, this time with a little more weight behind it. Sanaa jolted, the sound she made after—low, needy, breathy—made his dick jump. Erik sat up just a little, wrapping an arm around her waist so he could pull her back flush against him. His mouth touched the back of her neck, teeth grazing her shoulder. His voice was in her ear, filthy as ever.
“Bounce that shit one more time. Just like that. Lemme see how bad you want it.”
Sanaa obeyed. Started riding like she knew it was her job. And that dick? It was twitching like a loaded gun, waiting for the right moment to go off.
She arched deeper.
That pretty curve in her spine dipped low as she braced herself harder on his knees, pressing her palms flat while she started bouncing heavier. Each rise and drop sent her ass into his lap with a slick clap that had his eyes rolling up just a second. That little ass movies like she had rhythm built into it. Round. Greedy. Warm. She knew what she was doing riding the shape of his dick through the fabric like she was tryna imprint it.
Erik exhaled hard through his nose, chest rising with restraint. His fists clenched at his sides, trying not to grab her and flip her over.
He gritted through his teeth, jaw tight, “I swear to fuckin’ god—”
Another bounce.
“If we ain’t have to be quiet—”
Another slow grind, her pussy pressing right over the head of his dick.
“I’d be poundin’ yo’ ass into this mattress right now.”
Sanaa turned her head slightly, voice breathy, teasing but drenched in need, “How would you pound me, Daddy?”
That did it.
Erik’s hand came up, dragging down her spine, settling heavy on her lower back to hold her in that perfect arch. His other hand spread across her ass again, squeezing till her breath hitched. His voice dropped low behind her, all gravel and grit like he was about to break his own rules.
“I’d grab the back of that fuckin’ neck,” he said, slow and deep, “Make you stay right here, in that arch. Then slide this dick in slow, all the way. Let you feel every inch sittin’ in your stomach.”
Sanaa whimpered.
“I’d hold you down with my hand on your back like this. Pull out halfway, then fuck the rest back in. Deep. You’d take it.” He leaned in closer, mouth at her ear now, “I’d fuck you hard. Both hands on this pretty ass, spreadin’ it while I beat that pussy up like it owe me. You’d be takin’ all that pressure. My dick draggin’ your walls, hittin’ that deep spot.” He paused. Licked his lips, “You’d be creamin’ all over it too. I already know.”
Sanaa’s thighs trembled slightly. She pushed her ass back harder into him, grinding slow.
He grunted, low and dangerous, “I’d tear you up, lil’ freak. You fuckin’ deserve it. You make me crave that sweet lil’ pussy so bad it hurt. Got me talkin’ like this with your ass in my lap, knowin’ I can’t even slide in how I really wanna. You proud of that?”
She nodded, hips rolling slow and nasty, pussy gliding over the length of him like she wanted to make him break.
Erik let out a slow exhale, head tilting back, voice full of warning, “Keep fuckin’ playin’, Sanaa. Keep on. I’ll dig so far in this pussy, you gon’ feel me every time you sit down.”
He sucked his teeth, sharp and low. Tsk.
That was his warning.
His hand slid up her thigh, then down again, gripping the back of her leg. Sanaa could feel his chest rising behind her, muscles flexed, breathing thick with control he was barely holding onto.
“Bring that ass up here,” he growled, voice coated in that dark Daddy tone that always made her body go hot, “Scoot it up. Sit that pretty pussy on my face.”
Before she could even pretend to hesitate his palm cracked against her ass. A quick, low pop that made her gasp.
He leaned up, eyes heavy, voice even heavier, “Now. Fuck I say?”
Another smack. This time harder. Made her thighs shake.
Sanaa scrambled to obey, breath shaky as she shifted backward on her knees and climbed up, straddling his chest first then inching her way higher. Her thighs opened, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his head. Her body trembled a little from the anticipation, pussy sticky and throbbing.
She hovered over his mouth, dripping. Erik looked up at her like she was dinner. Then, he wrapped those thick arms under her thighs and locked her in. Hooked her so she couldn’t run even if she wanted to. He yanked her down onto his mouth with no hesitation, tongue poked out, ready to taste.
The moment her pussy met his tongue, Sanaa moaned sharp and grabbed the sheets. That first swipe was so nasty, dragging right through her lips. Erik kept his tongue stiff so every time she shifted or bounced it licked her just right. He wasn’t playing. He was focused. His big hands gripped her thighs tight and started guiding her—lifting and dropping her like she was nothing but weightless. He bounced her on his tongue like she was sittin’ on a damn throne, letting her ride the shape of it while he groaned low into her pussy. Each bounce smeared that slick gushy mess all over his face. Erik kept that tongue out, swiping, lapping, savoring, owning.
“Fuck,” she gasped, voice cracking.
His hands squeezed tighter. His tongue flattened, then curled up at the tip to flick her clit, “You gon’ nut like this, huh?” he rasped between licks, “On Daddy’s face? That’s what you needed?”
Sanaa’s moaned we’re the only response he needed. Her hips started moving on their own, syncing with his tongue, with his grip, with that deep, filthy hunger he poured onto every swipe.
Erik stayed locked in. Tongue out. Mouth open. Breathing through his nose while he licked and sucked that soaked little pussy like it was his full-time job. No gentleness. Erik lapped at her with heat in his throat, groaning into her pussy. That pussy was sittin’ so perfect on his face, tasting better than anything he could’ve imagined.
“Look at that,” he growled between sucks, lips shiny and swollen from how deep he was in it. “Leakin’ on my face. You fuckin’ drownin’ me, Sanaa. That lil’ pussy so wet, I could drink it.”
Erik wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hard, then let it go with a kiss right on the hood. His tongue dragged flat and slow through her lips again, catching all that creamy wetness she couldn’t stop giving.
“You feel that? The way I lick it like that?,” he said, tongue circling her clit now, “Got this pussy gushin’ like that? You make a mess every time I touch it.”
Sanaa’s eyes fluttered, jaw slack, her body rocking helplessly over his mouth. She couldn’t think straight. Could barely hold herself up. Her thighs were trembling from the overstimulation. From the precision of his mouth. From the way he talked to her pussy like he was tryna keep her under control.
But she needed him. Needed all of him.
So her hand reached down, blind and shaky, until he fingers landed on the bulge under his joggers. That dick was HARD. Thick and curved to the left, pressed up against the inside of his joggers like it was tryna break free. Sanaa wrapped her hand around the length of it through the fabric and started stroking.
Erik’s groan rumbled against her pussy the second she touched it, “Fuck,” he breathed, licking her faster, Yeah. Stroke it, baby. Play with Daddy dick while I eat this pussy. That’s it.”
Sanaa gripped tighter. Her fingers curled spring the shape of him as she pumped. He twitched against he palm thick and hot. Sanaa moaned when she felt another wave of gushy mess slide out and coat his face.
“Oh my god—Erik…”
“Keep fuckin’ moanin’, Sanaa,” he grunted against her clit, “That’s what the fuck I like. Cream on my tongue like that. Make a mess for me. This Daddy’s pussy, right?”
Sanaa nodded frantically, eyes crossing, fingers slipping from the sheets, reaching back to his locs now, tugging, anchoring herself. Her hips were rocking hard, chasing that release, grinding her clit on his tongue, lips, nose, anywhere with zero shame. Her breath came fast and shaky like she couldn’t get enough air. Erik wanted her to lose control. To cum so hard sh collapsed on his mouth, twitching and helpless.
He licked like a gluttonous man.. his grip got tighter. Big Jan’s flexed under her thighs, keeping her exactly where he wanted her—on his fucking face with no escape. His full lips were wet and pillowy, beard soaked and ticklish. That thick tongue worked her lokeche was fluent in her body, fluent in that pussy. Every lick had her dizzy. Every suck felt like a punishment and reward all at once. He devoured her like he knew he’d never get enough.
Then his voice came up again—deep, filthy, dominant.
“This Daddy’s pussy?” he growled, tongue flicking fast on her clit, “Say it.”
Sanaa whimpered, nodding, hands sliding down his abs for balance. Erik licked through her folds slower, then he sucked hard on her clit again until her thighs shook.
“I eat it good for you, baby?”
His voice was all pride and filth. That nasty, cocky tone that made her cunt tighten around nothing. She was creaming so much it slid down his chin.
“Best head you ever had in your life, huh?” he rasped, kissing her slit with slow, open-mouthed sucks like it was the only thing he wanted on his tongue for the rest of his life, “You couldn’t wait, huh?” Another lick, “Couldn’t fuckin’ wait to feel my tongue in you.”
Sanaa moaned loud, trying to ride his face harder, chasing the pressure.
Erik slapped her ass with one hand and bounced her on his mouth, “Nah, show me. Show me how bad you wanted it.” His voice dropped even lower, every word dripping with that Daddy dom authority, “Come sit this lil’ pussy all the way down. I want you to fuck my face, Sanaa.”
She did it.
Rolled her hips, fucked back on his pointed tongue while he licked through her. Erik kept his tongue out, lips open, letting her slide over it again and again while she stroked his dick through his pants. Sanaa could feel the tip jump under her palm.
He groaned, “Cum in my mouth, greedy girl,” he said, tongue pressed flat against her clit, fingers digging into her thighs. “Lemme taste what you been holdin’ for me. Go ‘head and let it go, baby,” he whispered, breath hot on her folds, “Cream all on Daddy face. Don’t hold that shit.”
It hit her slow.
Not a crash, not a wave—but a pull. Like every nerve in her body got strung tight then snapped loose all at once. Her breath caught in her throat. Hips locked mid-roll. Sanaa stopped moving. Just frozen right there on his mouth. Legs spread, chest heaving, hands clawed into the sheets. Her thighs started quivering in slow motion—one, then the other—muscles didn’t know what to do with all that pleasure. A long, soft moan spilled out of mouth shaky and high like. Note being sung just for him.
“…shit…” she whispered, voice thin.
She wasn’t loud, she was sweet with it. Sensitive. Her whole body reacting in these tiny, helpless jolts like aftershocks. Her clit was swollen and throbbing on his tongue, pussy fluttering from the inside out as the orgasm gripped her full-body.
“Oooooooo…” she sang, soft and breathless, back starting to arch, “Unhhhhhh…”
Sanaa clenched down on his face and Erik knew she was cumming for real. Felt that hot cream spilling over his mouth, his tongue catching every bit of it. Sanaa wasn’t squirting but she was gushing—wet enough to drown him and still he didn’t pull back. Erik growled under her, biceps flexing to hold her tighter as she tried to lift off his face. She was overstimulated now—body twitching, hands slipping, but Erik refused to let go.
“Uh uh,” he grunted, locking her down.
Sanaa whined. Tried to rock back, but he angled his face just right and buried his tongue deeper into that pulsing pussy, tip pointed, firm, collecting her release because it was his. He earned it. Her voice was all shaky hums and pretty little cries. She was somewhere between passing out and floating. And Erik stayed right there. Tongue moving, lips sucking, face soaked, beard coated.
He was feeding.
_______
Sanaa finally lifted off him, her thighs trembling as she scooted back on unsteady knees. Her pussy was still fluttering and dripping, her whole body moving like it had been fucked already even though he hasn’t touched her with anything but those thick fingers, his lips, and his tongue.
Erik licked his lips, chin shining.
But before he could say a word, she leaned in close and kissed him.
Gentle at first. Then deeper. Lips parting, tongues flicking. Sanaa kissed him slowly like she was tasting herself, pulling the cream from his mouth, licking at the corners and sucking his bottom lip between hers like she needed to clean it all up. Her right hand cradled his jaw, rubbing against his beard while the other hand stroked the scar along his left cheek like she loved every inch of where she sat just moments ago.
Then, she pulled back. A little smirk playing at her lips, one curl falling over her cheek softening the look in her eyes. Like she wasn’t just riding his face.
Erik raised his brows, still catching his breath.
She gave a sweet little shrug, “What?”
Sanaa dropped her gaze down and tugged at the waistband of his joggers. She pulled them down, teasing, eyes low and sultry, a soft chuckle at his expression. Her curls skipped forward, swinging as she peeled the fabric past his hips.
Thwap
That dick sprang out heavy, pulsing, leaking. Veins thick. The shaft girthy and standing straight up lie a flesh-covered rod just like she remembered. But nothing compares to seeing it up close like this—free, two-toned, hard, balls hanging low and full underneath.
“Damn…” she whispered with a shaky breath and a low, almost reverent chuckle.
Sanaa slapped it against her palm once. Then twice. The round was wet and heavy. Her eyes got lower. A little smile pulled at her lips like she was impressed all over again.
“This what you be hidin’ in them sweats?” she said, voice teasing, fingers wrapping slowly around the base, “This dick too fuckin’ big. You outta pocket for this.” She stroked up once. Grip tightening, “I can hardly wrap my fingers around it all the way. Look at this shit.” She licked her lips. Then looked back up at him, face soft, voice low, “This what you tryna fuck me with, Daddy?”
Erik’s eyes dropped to her hand and flared when he saw how small it looked against the length of him. He didn’t answer because his dick was already answering for him—throbbing, leaking, ready to ruin her. Erik was already leaning back on his elbow la when she positioned herself on the bed over his lap slow and sultry, while body still humming from that climax. She got on her knees beside him.
The mirror across the room caught it all—full-length, angled just right. From his spot, Erik could see everything. Sanaa bent forward, face hovering over the heavy length of him. Her breath touched his tip first—warm, wet, teasing—and he twitched in response. Sanaa glanced up at him through those lashes, giving him that same pretty, quiet smile she wore when she was being the nastiest. Her curls framed her face, half-wild, and fell forward as she leaned lower. Erik reached out and gathered her curls with one hand. Smoothed them back from her face so he could see all of her.
“Lemme watch, ma,” he said under his breath, voice hoarse, stomach flexing.
And she let him.
Sanaa wrapped her lips around the tip, eyes never leaving his as she sucked him in. The head disappeared first, glistening from how much he was leaking. Her hand followed, stroking the base with soft pressure as she eased more of him into her mouth.
Erik’s breath stuttered. His jaw clenched.
She made it wet. Spit trickled from the corners of her mouth down his shaft, hand gliding through it. She stroked with a twist, lips stretched tight, cheeks hollowing just enough to drive him mad.
The sound of it was nasty. All lips and slick and soft suction.
Schlk…schlk…glck…
Erik’s eyes fell to their reflection. It was a sight to see. Her head bobbing. Ass arched. He saw the wet trail her mouth left behind as she sucked. The spit strings that stretched when she came up for air. Her tongue glided over the tip before she went back down like she couldn’t get enough. Erik’s free hand slid under her body, fingers curling between her thighs. He rubbed her pussy lips, eyes widening when he felt it.
“Goddamn,” he muttered.
Sanaa was soaked. Dripping to his sheets. That creamy mess from earlier leaking, mixed with more slick every time she moaned around his dick. Erik rubbed her with his fingertips—middle and ring working in circles over her clit. His lips parted around an exhale. The feel of her pussy on his fingers made his dick throb in her mouth. Sanaa wasn’t expecting that, her tongue slipping along the bottom of his shaft causing his tip to nudge her uvula. Erik’s brows pinched. His expression was somewhere between awe and obsession. Her pussy juices still staining his face. He looked dazed.
Sanaa couldn’t take all of him but she took enough. She did just right. Her lips made love to every inch she could handle, twisting her wrist at the base, sloppily gliding her tongue under the head, then up the slit. Her tongue flicked fast before sucking him down again, swallowing spot just to start over wetter. Erik’s thighs flexed. His head dropped back for a moment but his hand stayed in her curls. His fingers stayed rubbing that messy pussy.
“Keep goin’, baby,” he grunted, voice breaking, “Suck that shit slow. Just like that.”
And she did. Making him watch. Making him feel. Making him lose every ounce of control he had left.
Erik’s whole body stilled. Except his hand. The one in her curls. Stroking, gripping, guiding like he needed to stay connected. Like touching her helped him keep a grip on reality while she sucked the soul out of him. His head tilted, eyes flicking down at her then back on the mirror.
The look on his face? Wrecked.
Brows dipped but not from anger. His mouth parted just enough for his breath to drag out heavy. His eyes low, dark, locked on her. Watching every glide of her lips over his length. Every bounce of her curls. Every flex of her hand as she stroked what her mouth couldn’t handle. His tongue dragged over his bottom lip.
He started whispering, “Yeah…look at you. Pretty lil’ mouth on my shit.” The tip of his tongue peeked out again—barely, “Messy as fuck. Just how I like it.” His voice dropped to a whisper, all gravel and heat, just for her to hear, “Sound like you tryna fuckin’ drown on it.”
Her mouth slurped around him harder, tongue swirling, spit dripping.
“You love this dick, huh?” he rasped, “Love suckin’ it slow, suckin’ it nasty?”
Her eyes flicked up toward his, and he damn near lost it. That look she gave him while her lips were stretched over his shaft made his breath catch in his throat.
“That’s a good girl,” he said, softer now, but still filthy, “Look so sweet with my shit in your mouth.” He leaned back a little further, but his eyes didn’t leave the mirror, “Whole face wet. Drippin’. You look like you needed it.” His hand slipped lower between her thighs again. His fingers came back wet. He held them up and looked down at her.
“This you?”
She moaned around him.
Erik chuckled under his breath. His smile was crooked. Sly. Sinful, “You that wet from suckin’ my dick?” He brought his fingers to her lips and smeared her slick across them while she still had him in her mouth.
“Greedy ass lil’ slut,” he whispered, “You love this shit. Can’t even help it.” Then his voice dropped to a low warning, “Don’t stop.” He was breathing heavier now, chest rising, watching her like she was his favorite slut. One he knew would fuck him up but he couldn’t put down.
“Keep suckin’ Daddy nice and slow. Let me see that spit shine. I wanna see that mouth stretch when I nut in it.”
Erik was barely breathing from how hard he was holding back. Every muscle in his stomach flexed. His thighs spread wide, chest lifting just enough to show he was still alive under her mouth. That mirror reflection was his favorite movie now. Her lips wet and stretched, that little hand working the rest that couldn’t fit down her throat, pink tongue teasing his tip, those doe eyes looking up at him like she knew she had him.
She was moaning on it now.
Soft, sweet little hums vibrating against his dick. Pulling back to give him tender kisses down the shaft, lips barely touching. Hand twisting and keeping that pressure tight. Her moans got deeper as she slid down further.
Erik exhaled hard through his nose, eyes hooded, his hand still gripping her curls with a soft dominance, “I’ma nut on your lips,” he whispered, voice gritty, low, and full of warning, “Gon’ give you what you fuckin’ want.”
Her eyes flicked up. And that was it.
That was his trigger.
Sanaa kept moaning around him, sloppier now, spit dripping down her chin, lips swollen, throat working as she bobbed. And when she reached under, cupping his balls and started massaging? Erik’s body jerked. His head dropped back for a second before he snapped it forward again, watching her mouth like he needed it memorized.
“You tryna swallow all that nut, huh?” he hissed, “Mouth stretched like a good girl.”
She gave him a low moan in response. “Mmmhmm.”
Didn’t stop moving. She slid her lips up with a wet glide, kissed the top with a filthy smack, then sucked it back in with a twist of her wrist. Her tongue teased the underside of his shaft every time she came up, dragging across that sensitive line beneath his head.
“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice breaking, “You a problem, Sanaa.”
Sanaa moaned again, like she could feel how close he was. She knew. She could hear it in his breath, feel it in the way his thighs twitched beneath her. Could see it in the way his hand gripped her hair tighter.
Erik leaned forward a little, watching the mess she was making on his dick, “You hear how wet that shit sound?” he whispered, voice gravel and filth, “That’s you. That’s that greedy ass mouth.”
Her moans turned into soft whimpers. Sanaa pulled off just enough to kiss the tip.
“Slap it on your tongue…mmm…good girl…”
Sanaa poked her tongue out and slapped that hard dick on it. Wet tongue covered in drool dripping down his dick each time she did it.
“You wanna fuck my throat, Daddy?”
His hand twitched in her curls.
“Say the word. I’ll let you.”
Erik grunted low, like his whole body was threatening to come undone. He needed control.
“Nah…keep suckin’ just like that,” he said, jaw slack, eyes trained on her mouth, “Let me nut slow. I want you feelin’ all of it.”
That shit went in one ear and out the other.
Erik’s thick fingers tangled in Sanaa’s hair, his heavy balls brushing her wrist with each stroke. Erik groaned low, abs tightening under his scarred skin, “Slow, baby girl,” Erik commanded, voice rough and edged with warning, locs falling over his shoulder as he looked down at her, “Suck daddy’s dick nice and slow. Tease it out.”
But Sanaa didn’t listen, her bratty spark igniting as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder, tongue swirling fast around the throbbing underside of his girthy shaft. One hand gripped the base, stroking up and down in quick, twisting pumps that made his length slick with her spit while her mouth plunged deeper, taking him to the back of her throat with a wet gag that echoed in the room. Sanaa pulled off just enough to slurp noisily at the top, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his swollen head before diving back in, gagging herself on his full length, throat convulsing around the invasion.
Erik looked down at her like he was in a trance. He was trying. Really trying. Chest rising slow, eyes squeezed shut. That vein in his neck pulsing. But his thighs were flexin’ up off the bed every time her tongue swirled right beneath the tip.
“Fuckkkkk” he hissed, voice low, tight, “You tryna make me bust, huh?”
She ignored him. Just slid her lips down again, took more of him in. Wet ass mouth clenching around him. Hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach.
Erik’s fingers gripped tighter, pulling her down with slow force. His stomach jumped. That nut was sitting heavy—low, “Damn,” he groaned, hips pushing up against her face. “Slow down, ma. Let me—shit. Let me breathe. Fuck, Sanaa, I said slow—”
She didn’t slow down. She moaned around his dick instead. Real soft. Real nasty.
That shit went straight to his balls, “You tryna make daddy bust quick? I said suck this dick slow—tease it, slut. Don’t make me on your head and fuck your throat myself.”
Sanaa giggled with his dick in her mouth.
Erik looked down at her, that pretty mouth stretched wide. Drool on her chin. Hand strokin’ tight while her tongue flicked with intention. She wanted him to lose it. Wanted that nut sittin’ heavy in balls to come up out of him. His breath got short. Neck stiff. Thighs flexing.
“Aight. Aight, that’s it—fuck,” he growled low, “You want this nut? You better take all that shit. Don’t you pull off. Don’t you run—fuck. Take that nut,” he growled, voice tight as his body bucked, hands gripping her head while his release spilled across her tongue, “Fuck…there you go. Keep suckin’, ma…fuuuck.”
Erik’s hips bucked once. Then again. Deep strokes into her throat now, not even thinking straight. Dick pulsing hard in her mouth. He gripped her hair, held her still. His whole body locked up. That nut tore through him from the spine out.
“Yeah…take that shit,” he groaned, voice breaking in his throat. “Take every fuckin’ drop.”
That dick unleashed ropes of hot cum straight down her gullet. The salty flood coated her mouth, overflowing past her stretched lips in creamy dribbles that trailed down her chin but she swallowed greedily—throat bobbing with each forceful gulp, humming low as she savored his load.
Erik didn’t even move after. He just leaned back on his hands, chest heaving, dick twitching with aftershocks.
“You a goddamn problem.”
Sanaa let it sit on her tongue, then she licked the top clean with one last moan, never breaking eye contact.
_______
Erik was gone.
Stretched out, chest rising, eyes barely open. That nut had him slumped for a moment, muscles twitching, still feeling the aftershock like it snatched something up outta him. But Sanaa? She wasn’t done. Far from it. And knowing that surged through Erik, fueling him for more to put her in her place. For walking in his room looking the way she always do—fine, sexy, gorgeous little coco puff.
She let his dick slip from her mouth with a wet pop…then did it again. And again. Kissing it, sucking just the tip, letting her spit drag before popping her lips off it like she ain’t just milk the soul outta him.
“Ma—chill…” he warned low, hips twitchin’.
But she smiled. That quiet, little freak smile all soft and evil.
That was the last straw.
Erik sat up like nothing hurt. Stood at his full height and stared down at her because he was about to reach her a new lesson. Erik grabbed her up easy, placed her on the bed where he wanted her—flat on her back, legs open, knees to ears. He shoved her thighs apart rough with no effort, then pressed one hand to her shoulder, the other to her inner knee, pinning it as far back as he could.
“Lay the fuck back.”
She did. Biting that lip already. Damn near gyrating that pussy at him like she was saying ‘catch this pussy daddy’ Erik kicked off his joggers the rest of the way. Socks too. His body full bare now—tattoos flexin’ scars movin’ with every shift of his hip. Erik stepped between her legs, eyes locked on her pussy, then dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed just enough to lean in.
Erik grabbed the backs of her knees, pushed them up until they were damn near touching her chest. Bent her. Pinned her. And spread her wide. That fat, wet pussy opened up for him. Creamy and glistening. Soaked. Erik didn’t slide in right away. He wrapped a his fingers around the base of his dick, thick and solid, and rubbed the tip up and down from her clit to between her labia slow. Let her feel all of it. Let it drag. That slick sound filled the room. He slapped it against her clit a couple times, watching her flinch and the way her pussy lips jiggled from the impact. Then, he pointed that tip right at her entrance and looked her dead in the eyes.
“Look at me,” he said, low and steady, “Look at me when I put it in yo’ lil’ ass.”
Her eyes fluttered, mouth already falling open.
“Bite your lip.”
She obeyed.
Chewing the corner of it, eyes wide, breath catching as he started to push in—slow and mean—letting her feel every inch part her open. Erik wanted it to hurt just a little. Wanted her to remember what it felt like when she begged for him.
“You gon’ be quiet while I fuck you?” he whispered, deeper now, “Or I gotta put my fingers in your mouth?”
Sanaa moaned, but caught it behind her teeth. She was breathless, lips trembling, already so far gone she couldn’t hide it.
And then the babble started.
“I want it…I want it…I want it…”
She just kept saying it, all breathy and needy, like she’d been starving for it. Like her body recognized this moment. Erik groaned low, deep in his chest. He pushed in deeper, buried halfway now, feeling that pussy stretch to take him in.
“You want it, huh?” he growled, hand sliding to her jaw, thumb brushing her lips, “Say that shit again.”
She whispered it again, louder, “I want it, Daddy…”
He pushed all the way in. Balls touching ass. Her mouth fell open in a soundless cry.
“Fuck, shit don’t make no sense how a cutie like you can be such a fucking…freak…take this dick.”
Erik stayed deep. Just let it sit there thick and pulsing, buried to the hilt. Her pussy wrapped right around every inch. Sanaa was so full it made her dizzy. Her mouth parted in a soft whimper, breath short, body twitching beneath him as her walls tried to adjust around the stretch.
Erik was inside her. And not just inside—stuffed in her. That heavy dick curved just right, pressing up against her deepest spot, veins dragging slow against soaked, swollen walls. Her pussy was hugging him, clenching tight around the root, slick and creamy, leaking down his shaft from the pressure alone.
“Shit…” she gasped, legs trembling. “Too deep…”
Erik stayed right there. Watching her like a man possessed, his hands tightening around the backs of her thighs. His grip was rough, firm, keeping her folded just how he wanted her. His locs hung low, a few sticking to his cheek, his body gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Muscles flexed across his arms and chest as he held her in place. Then he pulled out. Slow. To the tip. Abs flexin. That v-cut taunt. Biceps tight with tension. And sank right back in with a heavy grind that forced the air from her lungs.
“Uhhhhhnn—fuck,” she cried, voice high, eyes wide.
“You feel all that?” Erik growled, voice deep and close, “That’s what you been beggin’ for, right?”
Erik dragged her body closer to the edge of the bed, hands still locked on her thighs, and pulled her legs apart wider until her pussy spread open for him, glistening with her own cream. Then, he started to fuck her. Really fuck her. Not fast. Not wild. Not in a frenzy.
Deep. Sharp. Punishing.
Thick strokes. Slow pressure. Drippin’ dick like he had time and discipline. Each thrust hit her with weight—his hips driving forward, dick gliding through all that slick coating him in her wetness, that creamy grip holding him like it was trying to pull him in deeper every time he bottomed out.
The sound of skin meeting skin echoes soft, wet, rhythmic. Her pussy was talking. Sanaa couldn’t stop gasping. Her eyes flicked from his dick—watching it disappear and reappear slick with her cream—to his face, where he stared down at her with that focused, locked-in look. Like he was reading her. Studying every reaction. Every blink. Every moan. Every shake.
“Look at this shit,” he whispered, pulling out slow just to watch it, “Givin’ Daddy all this cream. You see this fuckin’ mess?”
He slammed back in deep.
Sanaa damn near folded. Fingers gripping the sheets, legs shaking, stomach fluttering. Erik leaned over her, keeping her legs pinned back as his strokes got meaner. Not faster—meaner. More deliberate. Pistoning in and out of her. More pressure behind them like he was pressing his nickname into her from the inside out.
His voice dropped, slick with filth, “Talkin’ all that shit with my dick in your throat, now you quiet.” Another stroke. Deep. Meaner. Precise, “Pussy too full to talk now, huh?”
She moaned again, back arching.
“You feel that tip kissin’ that spot?”
She nodded, tears brimming.
“You know I don’t play when I fuck you,” he growled, sweat sliding down his chest, his body looking like a carved up masterpiece, “I ain’t never gon’ play about this pussy.” His strokes got heavier. Balls slapping. Her cream painting his dick, glazing his shaft with every thrust, “You gon’ keep this pussy nice for me?”
“Y-yes…”
“You gon’ keep it wet for me?”
“Uh-huh…”
“You gon’ keep lettin’ me fuck it open like this anytime I want?”
She couldn’t answer. Her body said it all—dripping, trembling, stuffed and begging for more.
Erik wasn’t letting up. He was locked in, head low, eyes never leaving her face, dick still sliding in and out of that sweet, swollen pussy like it was his favorite place in the whole world. Biting his lip. He was tearing her up. Not reckless. Controlled. Those deep strokes powered by tight muscles that turned ruthless. Every thrust dragged out then slammed home with precision. Making her breath hitch each time he drove back in. That dick curved just right, splitting her open while her pussy sucked him back in. Sanaa was babbling now—soft, breathless moans that kept spilling out her mouth whether she wanted them to or not.
Erik wasn’t having that.
“Shhhh,” he hissed through clenched teeth, hips snapping forward again, fucking deep into that creamy mess, “Shut up.”
She gasped, eyes rolling. Couldn’t even help it.
Erik pulled out suddenly and flipped her, laid her on her side, and guided her leg up over his forearm. She was stretched, propped on her hip, one hand clawing at the sheets, the other reaching for him like she needed something to hold. Erik stood over her, body hulking, muscles glistening, locs hanging as he gripped the back of her thigh to keep it open. Then, he slid back in from behind, watching his thick dick disappear into that tight, little pussy all over again. That bubble booty jiggled with every stroke, soft wet claps filling the room. The way her ass moved under his control had his jaw twitching. Breath ragged. Erik leaned in closer and slid two fingers in her mouth—thumb brushing her bottom lip before pushing past it.
“Suck.”
She did. Eyes wide and dreamy. Wet with tears. Locked on his. Sanaa wrapped those pretty lips around his fingers and sucked slow, cheeks hollowing, eyes big and innocent like she wasn’t getting fucked dumb at the same time.
Erik groaned low, “Fine ass.” His hips rocked forward again, deep strokes punching her breath right out her chest, “Pretty lil’ slut.”
Whenever he complimented her it made her stomach flutter. Sanaa moaned around his fingers. Loud. Wet. She sucked harder, letting her spit run down his knuckles while her pussy clenched tighter, meeting every stroke now with one of her own. Her hips pushed back into him, timed and fresh, making Erik grunt with every clap of skin. She looked so good. Face all soft, lashes fluttering, mouth full of his fingers, eyes on his like she wouldn’t dare look anywhere else.
Erik blinked slow, nostrils flaring, sweat trailing down his temple as he kept fucking into her, “Oh, it’s like that?” he growled, grinning through it, “You tryna fuck back now?”
Sanaa sucked harder on his fingers and moaned through her nose, hips rolling, letting him feel how deep she wanted it. Her ass bounced off his lower abs with every stroke, pussy sucking him in wetter, messier, louder.
“You gon’ make me nut in this pussy again,” he whispered, shaking his head with a bite of his bottom lip, “Keep fuckin’ back. I dare you.”
Erik grabbed a fistful of her curls, wound them tight around his hand, enough to own her. Her head tilted back with the pull, neck arched, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp. Erik used the other hand to keep her leg cocked up, bent at the knee, foo dangling in the air like her ankle gave out. The way he held her like he knew he was the reason her body couldn’t keep itself together had her losing whatever strength she had left.
Erik shifted his weight forward and dropped his hips in tight strokes, each one hittin with that perfect pressure that made her body jolt in little shivers. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t wild and erratic. It was intentional. Erik was fucking jer with weight not overzealous speed. With discipline. And the whole time, he was watching her. Eyes dark. Lip caught between his teeth. Dimples poked. Breaths steady. Sanaa’s hand flew up to her mouth, cupping it as a muffled moan escaped high and wrecked. She had to. Aaliyah was just down the hall. They had to be quiet. But the way Erik was tearing her ass up on the edge of the bed mad quiet feel impossible.
And then it happened.
That slow, warmth between her thighs into something wetter. Creamier. Her pussy started to gush around him—thick and sweet and messy—and Erik felt every bit of it.
“Oooh shit…” he groaned under his breath, gripping her tighter, “That lil’ pussy cummin’ on my daddy’s dick, huh?”
Sanaa couldn’t answer. Could barely think. Creaming on him felt too good. It made everything worse—better. That extra glide turned every deep stroke into a slick, full-body drag that left her with no time to recover. Her walls tried to clench down but slid open again with every pump. It was too slippery, too sensitive, too much. Her little pussy was reacting before her mind could even catch up. By the time she realized he hit her spot, he was already hitting it again. Her cream glazed his shaft, painting his dick with it. It sounded wetter now—those quiet, low, schlk, schlk, schlk noises that made Erik’s eyes narrow like he was trying not to loose it. Then, he slipped out from all that mess
“Bring that leg back up. Right there. I’m puttin’ it back in. Right there. Don’t move. You keep doin’ that I ain’t never gon’ stay in…”
Erik leaned in, still holding her leg up, dragging that doc in and out of her like it was sex therapy, “You know how the fuck I nut in this pussy,” he said under his breath, “So why you creamin’ it like you beggin’ for a repeat? You fuckin’ drippin’ on me.” Erik gave a slo thrust, let her feel every veined inch as it slid through the dream she couldn’t stop leaking, “You don’t even know what to do with this dick. Just keep leakin’. I’m a keep making this pussy talk then.”
Another thrust.
Sanaa cried out behind her palm, eyes rolling, thighs quivering.
“You can’t even hold it in.”
And she couldn’t.
She was melting from the inside out, stuffed and stretched, body overwhelmed by the glide, the heat, the pressure. Her pussy clenched but had no grip left, just gushed again, soaking him, that mess dripping down to the bed beneath them. Erik smirked, fucking her through it, her curls still wrapped around his fist. Her leg hanging in the air, twitching every time he drove back in. His gaze drifting to his mirror, loving the visual of her body being torn to pieces.
“Greedy ass pussy,” Erik spoke low, close to her ear, “Look at you. That’s my messy girl, huh? That’s my messy girl? Creamin’ all over daddy’s dick like you need it to breathe?”
Sanaa is whiny, barely holding on, “Daddy…”
Erik groans. The groan transitions into a faint chuckle. He gripped her tighter, “Nah, don’t start cryin’ now. You wanted Daddy’s dick now look. Got your lil’ pussy talkin’ back, spillin’ on me like she proud to be my lil’ nasty girl.”
“I can’t help it…”
“You ain’t supposed to. That’s what I like. Keep makin’ a mess for me, baby. Let that pretty lil’ pussy leak ‘til it’s drippin’ down both our legs.” Erik pulls out slowly just to watch it ooze, then slides back in, chuckling soft, teeth gritted, “Mm. There she go again. So damn greedy. That creamy shit all in my lap, all up my stomach…you see it, right? That’s how bad you need Daddy.”
Sanaa moaned soft, nodding, almost crying, Yeah…I needed it so bad…”
“I know you did. You always do. That’s why I’ma keep feedin’ you like this. Gotta keep my nasty lil’ baby full, huh?”
He pulled out slow.
The drag of it had her shaking, mouth parted, breath coming in soft, helpless gasps. The sheets clung to her skin where sweat had slicked her thighs. Erik leaned back, watching her body react to the absence of him—how her legs trembled, how her pussy stayed wet and open for a second too long before twitching around nothing.
Sanaa sat up, legs folded under her like she needed a second to catch her breath. But her eyes never left him. Not his chest, not his arms. She reached for his muscular thighs, palms spread wide as she slid forward, settling between them on the edge of the bed. Her head dropped, hair brushing his skin, and her lips parted just enough to let a breath escape against his dick. She stared. Watched the way he throbbed for her, thick and slick from where he’d just been. Then, she wrapped one hand around the base and stroked him. Real slow. Lazy. Like she had all the time in the world to tease him back to full attention. Her other hand rested against his thigh, gripping weakly. She looked up at him, eyes glassy, void coated in want.
“Why you fuck me like that?”
Erik just stared, jaw flexing.
Sanaa licked her lips, kept stroking, twisting her wrist just enough to make him grunt under his breath.
“Let me ride it, daddy. Please?”
Erik cocked an eyebrow. That slow, unimpressed look that made her squirm every time.
She bit her bottom lip, started stroking a little faster. Still watching him, “I wanna feel it push back while I bounce on it…” She kissed the tip. Just a little taste, “Been thinkin’ about this stroke all day. My pussy’s ready.”
Summary: He's supposed to be laying low. A job overseas went bloody, and Erik Stevens-Black Ops Mercenary, Ghost of the U.S. Government-needs to go quiet. He crashes at his little sister's place near Howard University in Chocolate City. But when he arrives, there's a surprise: she's got a roommate. Her Best Friend. She's grown since he last saw her. Grown in all the ways that test a man's self control. But Erik? He's never been good at following the rules...
Warnings: Age Gap Romance/ Forbidden Attraction/ Explicit Sexual Content (strong smut, oral sex, size kink, erotic praise, power exchange)/Slow Burn to Filthy/Obsession & Possessiveness/Sexual Tension in Shared Spaces/Mutual Voyeurism/Sexting/Emotional Denial/Resistance/Breeding Talk/Male Dom / Female Sub Dynamic
Part One
Belo Horizonte, Brazil I March 2021 I 6:42 PM
The sun was still up but barely. The sky stretched wide and low over the city like melted tangerine. Everything below moved. It was too loud. Too close. Too alive. Mopeds weaved through traffic without brakes and mercy. Women shouted in Portuguese across balconies and cracked stoops, laundry lines swaying in the heat. Street kids dribbled flattened footballs through dust clouds. The scent of fried meat and engine oil lingered in the air, thick with sweat.
And cutting through all of it—a little boy. Maybe ten. Fast He darted up the sloped alleyway like he was being chased, weaving between fruit crates and parked motorcycles, dodging stray dogs, almost slipping on a cracked beer bottle. One hand held a plastic bag tight to his chest. His T-shirt was damp with sweat and the collar stretched, flip-flops smacking the concrete with every forceful step.
Every breath. Every bounce. Every blur of the city behind him. He didn’t knock when he got to the third floor. He just tapped once with his knuckles on the warped door. He slid the bag to the floor and turned his body sideways.
And waited.
Then, a hundred dollar bill slipped out through the narrow gap beneath the door. Crisp an folded. The boy snatched it up without a word, glancing once over his shoulder, and bolting back down the steps befofe the dogs came sniffing.
Inside was quiet. Hot.
The door creaked open after the boy had vanished. A hand reached out—big, brown, scarred—and pulled the bag inside.
No words. Just movement.
The flat was nothing. Four walls and sweat.
The fan in the corner clicked with a limp rhythm, more noise than breeze. A bare bulb hanging from a wire flickered overhead. The walls were the color of old smoke. Concrete floor. Iron-barred windows.
The food went straight to the table. He moved like he’d done this a hundred times. Because he had. In many different countries. Off the grid.
Erik Stevens.
Thirty-something. Ex-black ops. Ex-everything. He wasn’t built for reat but he knew when to vanish. He’d just finished a job on the coast—surveillance turned extraction, turned bloody cleanup. The money hit his burner laptop an hour ago. It was enough for silence. Enough to wait. Now, he was laying low. Eating slow. Watching the sky bleed orange through the bars.
His chest was bare. Tattooed. Marked. Carved. Scars mapped across his skin like warnings, each one raked and methodically placed. A keloid scar for every life he took. He’d stopped counting a long time ago, but the pattern kept going. Chest to robes to shoulder. Sharp, neat, intentional. His arms flexed as he reached for the fork. Gold slugs caught the light when he chewed. His locs were tied back, half wet from the bucket shower he’d taken earlier. A black scarf still hung around his neck. His lower jaw ticked while he read through the file again on his phone—encrypted, disappearing text, sent from a contact he didn’t trust but couldn’t ignore.
Another job was on its way.
Eric leaned back in the chair, let the sweat be down his chest, tapped the edge of his empty glass, and his hand drifted it toward the burner phone on the table. Black. Old. Untraceable. Only one number saved. Only one voice worth hearing.
Erik unlocked. It dialed the number that he needed to call. The screen on the phone flickered to life with its low brightness. There was no name, just a number, one he knew by muscle memory. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and pressed the phone to his ear.
Two rings.
Then, her voice hit him like light cracking through brick.
“Damn, you finally callin’ like a normal human being.”
Erik didn’t say anything right away. He just breathed—slow and steady.
“You straight?” He asked, voice thick and low, “School good?”
Her laughter was immediate—light, sharp, familiar. It filled up the space around him, even from continents away. Erik’s eyes eased. His jaw unclenched. He didn’t smile, but his shoulders dropped just a little.
“School good,” she said, stretching it out with that Oaktown bounce in he voice, “Stressful, annoying, dumb as hell sometimes, but good. You still sound like you in a bunker. You sleepin’ in a damn cave, Erik?”
Erik grunted, barely amused, “Nah.”
“You always be on that Jason Bourne shit,” she teased.
Erik looked at the half-eaten food in front of him. Fan still ticking in the background.
“Sum’ like that.”
“Mhmm,” she clicked her tongue, “Anyways, guess what? I got that fellowship in Atlanta.”
His eyes lifted, slightly, “Yeah?”
“Yeah! I leave in two weeks. I’m lit. I told Bri to stay at the apartment while I’m gone so the plants don’t die.”
Erik leaned back in the chair again, eyes narrowing just a little, “Bri?”
“Sanaa, E. Bri. You know I’m the only one that call her that.”
He was quiet for a beat, “I know.”
She didn’t catch the shift in his tone. She was too busy running her mouth.
“She got midterms and shit anyway. If you’re coming in town she’ll be there. Just don’t be actin’ all scary and big brother-y. She grown now, for real.”
Erik dragged a hand down his face. Stared out the window at the sun dipping low behind concrete and wire. Her words say heavy in his temporary space.
He cleared hi throat, glanced back at the folder he’d closed earlier, “Proud of you. Keep your head down.”
“I always do, old man. When you flying in?”
“End of the week.”
She let out a satisfied breath, “Good. I miss you, even though you get on my nerves.”
Erik said nothing, but stayed on the line for a few seconds longer. He listened to her move around. Her voice in the distance. It reminded him of why he did when he did.
Then, he ended the call. Phone dropped back on the table.
The sun was officially gone now. And in the back of his mind…
Sanaa.
Washington, D.C. I Howard University I March 2021 I 6:17 PM
Golden hour hit different in D.C.
it’s slipped between the buildings, soft and therapy, making everything look like a slow motion music video from the early 2000s. The sidewalk glow warm under acrylics and ankle socks. Students drifted out of Douglas Hall and small clusters—arguing, flirting, group chat tea.
But the one who caught eyes every single time?
Aaliyah Stevens
Five-foot-three. Hips poking out of that black mini skirt. Cropped Howard hoodie barely meeting her slender waistline. A slick, low bun pulled her baby hairs into a crisp formation. Nose highlight glowing. Lip gloss popping. AirPods in, Megan Thee Stallion blasting.
Her walk? Disrespectful.
Every step said ‘I know I’m fine’
Booty swayed like it was timed to the beat. Aaliyah pulled her phone up, camera flipped. She checked her reflection quick. Flash of lashes, edge check, lip bite.
Perfect.
Then, she cut across the street, stepping over a pothole like it offended her, an dipped down a quieter block towards her apartment building. She stayed in a brownstone walk-up just a few minutes off campus. A Black-owned building. Third floor. The kind of spot that didn’t look like much on the outside.
But the inside?
All her.
Aaliyah unlocked the door with a twist of charm bracelet covered wrist, nails, clacking against her keychain, and stepped inside with her usual announcement.
“I’m home! Don’t be in here naked, bitch! Hope you got the snacks!”
No response. She figured Sanaa wasn’t back yet. But she always said it, just in case. The apartment was warm and lived in. The walls were painted as soft, beige, one accent wall painted burnt orange. Plants crowded the windowsill like a mini greenhouse. A chunky rust-colored sectional, took up most of the living room. The sectional was covered in an African printed throw pillows and one very well loved faux fur blanket. The coffee table was black as hell. Stacks of Essence magazines. An ashtray with a half burnt incense stick. A pink lighter. Remote control controls. A glass tray, full of rings, bobby pins and unopened lip gloss tubes. And lastly, a tray of crystals that did not work but looked cute.
On the walls? Black art only.
Yes, thick girls in line drawings. A stretched canvas of a black girl with gold grills and Bantu knots. Another of Assata Shakur in blood red paint. Aaliyah dropped her tote bag on the floor, kicked off her sneakers, and headed to the kitchen, gold ankle bracelets flashing with every step. The open kitchen layout let her keep one eye on the front door. Inside the kitchen, there was open shelving with different jars; jasmine rice, brown sugar, oatmeal, and instants grits among the few food items to fill them. The fridge was covered in affirmations, memes, and takeout menus.
And there was a handwritten note tapped up that said:
Keep that ASS moisturized and that GPA up!!!
Aaliyah.
She poured herself half a glass of her mango juice, popped open a fresh pack of peach rings, and turned up her music before before heading down the hall. Aaliyah didn’t bother glancing at Erik’s door. It stayed closed. Instead, she passed it and it slipped into her own room.
Aaliyah dropped onto her chair like it owed her something. Her room was warm from the sun, golden light spilling over her mirror and glinting off of her makeup collection. Her LED lights were off but the vibe was still full-blown Black Girl Luxury.
On her desk her laptop was already opened, three tabs deep into a media theory paper. A spiral notebook half-full of bullet points and highlighter marks. A lavender candle burned low beside an open pack of spearmint gum. One faux lash sitting lonely on top of her mousepad like it died in battle.
Aaliyah pulled her legs up into the chair and sat cross-legged, her hoodie sitting higher around her waist. For the next few minutes, she was focused—tapping keys, scrolling through readings, an chewing on the end of her pen like it might feed her answers.
But then, her phone buzzed. Twice. Not her regular account.
The other one.
She side-eyed it, popped another peach ring into her mouth, an reached for her iPad instead.
Face ID unlocked it quick.
She opened her favorite banking app. The one that didn’t send push notifications. The one linked to a routing number that didn’t have her name on it. And just like that, there it was
$10,000 I Incoming Transfer I “Stay ahead”
Her glossy lips curled into a slow smile. Not surprised. Just confirmed.
“Okay, baller…”
No rent. No bills. No stress.
All thanks to her big brother—Erik.
Her tuition had been handled before the semester even started. The apartment? Erik paid for it in full, in his name. No landlord, no questions. All she had to do was show up to class and get that degree. He made sure of that. Erik didn’t call it love. Never said much. But this? This was enough.
Then. She shot him a quick text.
Thanks Bro! Love you!
No emojis.
He probably wouldn’t respond. But she knew he’d read every word.
After a while, Aaliyah flopped back onto her bed, her satin bonnet she’d slipped on sitting sideways, her AirPods still in. She was half-grinning at her phone screen before she even hit the FaceTime button.
Bri 💅🏾
The contact popped up with a photo from their last girls night out. Sanaa in a neon yellow tube top that made her girls sit up nice, skin glowing from the cocoa radiance body oil she loved to use. She was biting her straw, eyes low, looking like the baddie she is.
Two rings.
Then, that soft-ass voice picked up.
“What’s up, ho?”
Aaliyah cackled immediately, “You lucky I love you. Don’t be answering the phone like you got hands.”
Sanaa was on the other end, walking down Georgia Ave, curly hair pulled up into a loose bun, gold hoops catching the last of the sun. Her lips were glossy, eyes looking tired but warm.
“You get outta class already?” Aaliyah asked, flipping onto her stomach and kicking her feet up behind her.
“Yeah, just now. Professor Hill talkin’ like she wasn’t tryna dismiss us early. Like ma’am, wrap it up, I’m hungry.”
“You always hungry,” Aaliyah teased, “You ate before class.”
“That was five hours ago and it was a granola bar. Be so serious.”
“You a granola bar.”
Sanaa just rolled her eyes and kept walking, “You home?”
“Been home. You the one takin’ the scenic route.”
“I’m literally five minutes away.”
“Uh huh. That’s what you said last time and showed up with Cold Stone and a man’s hoodie.”
Sanaa smirked, “And I ain’t share either.”
Aaliyah narrowed her eyes playfully, “Bitch, I will fight you.”
They laughed together, easy and unbothered, the kind of laughter that came from years of knowing each other’s tells. Like sisters. Sanaa paused to dig in her purse, then slid her phone into her back pocket so the camera showed nothing but sidewalk and her shadow. She grabbed for it again, holding her phone in one hand while she applied clear Fenty gloss with the other.
“You I went to the store and didn’t ask me if I wanted nothin’?! That’s fake.”
Sanaa smirked, “Girl, relax. I already grabbed your spicy plantain chips. Gold bag. I got you.”
Aaliyah grinned, “See? That’s why you my bitch. You always know.”
“Exactly.”
Aaliyah paused, then lowered her voice, teasing, “You wearin’ that little black set? The one with the thin-ass straps?”
Sanaa didn’t respond right away. Which was its own answer.
Aaliyah grinned, “I knew it. I ain’t even mad at you, bitch. It’s hot as hell and you got hips. Let ‘em breathe.”
Sanaa giggled under her breath, “you got class tomorrow?”
“Unfortunately. Nine a.m. I’m about to act like I’m going.”
“You not.”
“You right.”
Sanaa’s voice went soft, almost lazy, “Alright, I’m walkin’ up now.”
“Door is unlocked. Don’t let no ghosts in behind you.”
“You so stupid.”
They hung up.
Washington, D.C. I Howard University Apartment I 7:47 PM
The door clicked open slowly, no rush.
Sanaa stepped inside like she’d always lived in that space, because truthfully, it felt like she had. Her keys jingled once before she dropped them in the little ceramic tray by the door next to Aaliyah’s tangled keychain and a half-burnt vanilla-scented candle. Her gladiator sandals slid off smoothly, gold toe rings flashing as she stepped onto the cool wood floors.
Soft natural light from the living room window stretched across her skin, warm and golden. It was the kind of light that didn’t ask for attention but gave it anyway. She smelled like vanilla and coconut with a little spice clinging to the crook of her neck. Her curls were pulled up into a loose bun, a few curly strands falling by her cheek. A black spaghetti-strap tank hugged her chest. Her shorts were high and small, just enough fabric to keep the peace but not enough to stop a man from thinking.
Sanaa walked through the living room space, bag of snacks under her open arm. The soft pad of her bare feet was almost silent. The apartment was quiet, except for the sound of Megan Thee Stallion’s voice fading. Sanaa dint call out for Aaliyah. They always gave each other space when it was this close to nightfall. After long classes. After D.C commotion and campus noise. The silence was a part of their routine most days. She paused near the hallway, glancing down towards Aaliyah’s door. She heard faint movement behind it. Soft music or maybe the sound of acrylics tapping a screen. Then, her eyes slid to the one door that remained shut at all times.
Then, she turned and headed towards her own room.
Warm tones. Vanilla-scented candles. Her desk was stacked with textbooks and highlighters. A silk robe was draped over her desk chair. Her bed was made, but not too tight. Just in the way she left it—half-living, like she planned to crawl back in and snuggle. She set the bag of snacks down on her dresser, opened it, and pulled out Aaliyah’s spicy plantain chips in her own bottle of mango juice. And then she sat at the edge of her bed, crossed one leg over the other, and exhaled.
For a moment, it was just her and the silence again. The weight of the day was slipping off of her shoulders. The faint whir of Chocolate City beyond her window acted as background noise. The air was sweet, the leftover fragrance of her Sintic candle lingering in the air. Sanaa leaned back on her hands, let her head tilt slightly to the side, her eyes scanning her bedroom like she was checking herself into it’s calm. There was nowhere else she needed to be right now. No one demanding her attention. It was just a warm space, good lighting, and peace that she earned. But something about the quiet still made her heart feel a little too aware.
Like it knew something she didn’t. Like it was waiting fo the air to change its course.
The knock on her bedroom doo wasn’t really a knock. It was more like a “tap-tap” with nails, followed by it swinging open without waiting for a response. Aaliyah leaned her head in, her bonnet slightly askew, pink Fenty gloss worn off her lips but confidence still strong.
“You eatin’ the snacks without me?”
Sanaa blinked slowly, “figured you were busy studying.”
Aaliyah stepped in with no hesitation, snatched the gold bag off of Sanaa’s dresser, and flopped right down on her bed like it was her room too.
“You be so fake sometimes,” she said, mouth full of plantain chips, crunching, “I literally just told you I was hungry.”
“No you didn’t. I literally just bought you the chips.”
“Still fake.”
Sanaa smiled. She leaned back on her elbow, sipping her own mango juice. Her eyes were half-lidded while Aaliyah tore into the bag of chips like it owed her.
“I blocked Jordan today.”
Sanaa raised an arched brow, “Like—blocked blocked?”
“I’m not going back. I don’t care if he sends me flowers, food, or money.”
Sanaa nodded slowly, amused, “you gon’ unblock him next week. Watch.”
“I won’t. I swear on Beyoncé.”
“You swore on Beyoncé the last time.”
“This time I mean it.”
They both laughed. That laugh that lived in the throat. Not loud but warm. Genuine. Carefree. Aaliyah sat criss-cross near the edge of the bed, licking salt off her fingers, her eyes cutting to Sanaa like she was already planning her next topic of discussion.
“Oh—don’t forget. You got that lil’ date this weekend.”
Sanaa didn’t react.
Aaliyah tilted her head, “you still goin’?”
Sanaa gave a small shrug, brushed a curl from her eyes, and started twisting the end around her finger, “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just tired,” Sanaa said softly, “Like, niggas don’t be offering shit but recycled game an headaches.”
“Whew. Say that.”
“They all talkin’ the same, dressing the same, tryna fuck the same. I’m over it.”
Aaliyah stared at her like she’d heard that same tone too many times.
“You need some dick.”
“I need to be left alone.”
They both fell quiet for a second. It wasn’t awkward, just understood. Sanaa leaned her head back against her headboard.
Her voice came low, “It’s not that I don’t want it. I just…want something that don’t feel like I’ve done it ten times already, you know?”
Aaliyah sighed and reached for another chip, “I do, boo.”
The moment settled between them. It was comfortable. Easy-going. Safe. Neither of them knew that the next day, the energy in that space was going to shift completely. And Sanaa wasn’t ready for who would walk through the door next.
Belo Horizonte, Brazil I March 2021 I 1:13 AM
The street was quiet. Too quiet even for this side of the city.
Erik knew the motion of the neighborhood by now, the way stray dogs barked when the clubs let out. How the stray motorcycle sounds usually died down after the clock struck midnight on his digital watch. How the old man next door always slammed his shutters right before bed.
But tonight? Nothing.
Erik stood shirtless by the window, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting as he watched the alleyway below. The fan behind him clicked low, a soft drone breaking through the thick, humid air. Sweat rolls slowly down the dip in his spine. His burner phone was off. His work laptop closed. His gear already packed.
He was leaning at sunrise. Or at least that’s what the plan was.
Then came the flicker. A shadow moved wrong in the alleyway. No rhythm to it. It was too still between steps to be normal.
Erik paused.
Another form appeared, posted across the alleyway like a man waiting for a hooker that never came. A third leaned against the wall outside the downstairs bakery. Too clean. Too stiff. Too out of place to blend in.
They weren’t Brazilian. And they definitely weren’t locals.
Erik moved quiet.
He grabbed his 9mm from beneath his bedframe, checked the mag, and slid a hunting knife into his waistband just behind his back. His shirt stayed off. There was no need for extra layers. His body was already marked like war paint. The moment his doorknob jiggled and the door creaked open, he was already behind it.
The first one in? Didn’t even get a name. Erik caught him by the neck, slammed his head into the edge of the table, and dragged the body backward like he was taking out trash. No noise. Just weight.
The second one came in hotter. Gun drawn. Snarling.
Erik dropped low and sliced him from the ankle to the thigh, kicked his knee in sideways, and used the man’s own body to shield himself as bullets tore into the wall. The safe house lit up, muzzle flashes painting the room orange and red like fireworks. Erik pushed himself forward an buried his knife into flesh. He pulled the pistol off the downed man’s hip and returned fire.
The last one in the doorway fried to backpedal, but Erik was already there.
Three shots
Pop! Pop! Pop!
All chest. No hesitation.
Blood soaked into the fan’s breeze. Boots slipped on broken kitchen tile. Erik’s breath stayed steady.
He moved like someone who’d done this a hundred times. Like he didn’t lose sleep over the first. Three men down. All foreign. Tactical boots. Military gear. Matching patches covered in black sharpie.
One still breathing.
Erik dragged him by the collar into the kitchen and pressed a boot to his chest and a gun to his throat.
“Who sent you?”
The man spat blood and smiled, “Didn’t think you’d still be alive after Kandahar.”
Erik’s jaw clenched.
Old ghosts.
They weren’t here on a mission. They were here on vengeance. Ex-black ops turned freelancers. Washed out, pissed off, still sore about how shit ended overseas.
“Just us?” Erik asked.
The man didn’t answer. Erik pulled the trigger once.
Pop!
No ceremony. When it was all done, he sat on the edge of the bed. He breathed slow, covered in the blood of the men, staring at nothing. His body buzzed with adrenaline.
But his mind was already three steps ahead.
How did they find him?
They weren’t smart. Which meant someone had to give them a trail. Someone who did know where he was. Erik stood up. He washed off the blood in the rusted sink. Packed the last of his things. Burned the SIM card. And left the bodies where they dropped.
He needed to get the fuck out of Brazil.
And he needed to disappear long enough to find the source. Erik only knew one place quiet enough. Safe enough to stay ghosted for a while.
Erik stared at the last body for a second longer than necessary, then he snapped out of it. He wiped his hands on a rag, snatched his backpack, and zipped it smooth. Inside: a second burner phone, emergency documents, foreign cash, a hard drive with names that could set countries on fire, and a clean black tee.
He didn’t bother changing. He’d leave a trail.
No prints. No trace.
He moved fast. Down the back stairwell, sock-footed at first to quiet his steps. His boots dangled from one hand. In the other—his blade and pistol.
He didn’t panic. Kept his mouth shut and eyes focused.
Just math.
How long before someone realized they were dead? How long before the bodies bled through the floorboards?
Not long enough.
Ten minutes later, Erik was crouched in the shadow of an alley behind a shuttered repair shop near the edge of town. The streetlight overhead flickered, washing him in yellow every few seconds like a strobe. His back pressed to the wall, sweat drying cold on his chest.
Erik pulled out his second burner. One bar of signal. That’s all needed. He scrolled past a list of dead numbers until he hit the one marked with a single dot.
No name. No tag.
He pressed CALL.
It rang twice then clicked.
A man’s voice answered with a thick African accent, low and alert.
“…you alive?”
Erik didn’t waste time, “Need an exfil. Quiet. No questions.”
There was silence on the other end of the call.
“Fucking hell, Stevens. I thought you were buried in the Gulf.”
“Almost was.”
“You hot?”
“Three bodies in a safe house.”
“Shit.”
A brief rustling, followed by the sound of keys typing could be heard. Then, the voice came back.
“Alright. I can get you out. Not from there. Too close to the city. You need to move. I’ll ping a drop zone—helicopter, military grade, discreet. But I can’t wait long. Be there by dawn or you’re on your own.”
Erik nodded once, “Copy.”
“One more thing…”
“What?”
“If they found you there, they’ll find you here. You know that, right?”
“I ain’t staying.”
Click.
By the time Erik slipped into the backseat of a beat-up SUV parked two blocks over, he’d already wiped down the phone and tossed it in a passing sewer drain. The driver didn’t speak. Erik handed him a small envelope. That was communication enough.
They drove with the headlights off.
Out of the city. Past the favelas. Into the hills where the air got thicker and the roads turned to dirt. A goat wandered across the road and the driver didn’t even flinch. Neither do Erik. He sat in the dark, his eyes scanning every tree line, pistol on his thigh.
At dawn, the helicopter would be there. And Erik would be gone.
And whoever leaked his location? He’d find them. But first, he needed to disappear. And if there was one place that could hold him quiet, keep him off-grid, and offer just enough peace to plan his next move…
It was the apartment in D.C.
Aaliyah didn’t need to know what he’d just crawled out of. All she needed to know was that he was coming.
Mountains Outside Belo Horizonte I March 2021 I 4:57 AM
The helicopter came down low and stealthily over the hills. No lights, no sound but a distant chop that blended into the wind. It was industrial gray, military-grade, with black rotor blades that sliced through the sky. Not a government model. Something dirtier. Paid for in favors.
Erik stood still in the clearing.
Boots laced. Bag on his back. Blood washed off but his knuckles still raw. The SUV driver had dropped him a mile down, never looking back. As the chopper touched down, dust kicked up around him. Erik covered his face with his scarf and moved—fast but controlled. The side door slid open before he reached it. A masked man inside nodded once.
Erik climbed in.
The door shut.
They lifted off before he even settled. They flew low over slums, rivers, fields split by train tracks and rusted freight cars. Erik watched in silence as the land shifted from jungle to mountain to mist. Forty-seven minutes later, they touched down in the outskirts of a mining town long since abandoned. No city noise. No wandering eyes. Just one rusting compound half-buried behind overgrowth.
The Safe Zone.
Old hideout from a job years ago. Owned by no one. Wired by him.
Erik stepped out before the rotors stopped, ducking into the building’s warped side entrance, locking the door behind him. Inside: dust, concrete, faint generator buzz. But, it had what he needed.
A stash box with clean clothes.
A loaded Glock and spare mags with a sniper rifle.
Burner passports.
A cracked mirror.
And a sat phone.
Erik peeled off his sweat-stuck tee, wiping the side of his face. The scars on his chest rose in the low light like topography, old pain carved into habit. He pulled on a fresh black shirt, slid the Glock into the shoulder holster, and washed his face of debris and sweat in a metal basin. He dried his face off with a rag from a metal crate. Then, he sat down on an overturned metal crate, opening the sat phone, and scrolled to a name.
Call sign: WOLF7
He pressed CALL.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Stevens.”
A sharp voice. Clean. English. Female.
“I got hit in Brazil.”
Static, then silence.
“You alive?” She asked.
“Barely.”
“How many?”
“Four. Military-trained. Not locals.”
“Fuck.”
Erik exhaled through his nose, jaw flexing, “Somebody gave them my location.”
“It could’ve been a pattern leak. Your routes, your reload pings—”
“I don’t move sloppy.”
Another pause.
“You think it’s internal?”
“I think it’s someone who knows how I think.”
She didn’t argue. Didn’t deny.
“Do you need pullback?”
“I need answers
“Then you better disappear for real this time. Keep your face out of every camera. Don’t use your real name, don’t use any contact unless it’s me.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “I’m flying out in six. To lay low.”
“You sure?”
“I go a place.”
“Where?”
Erik didn’t answer.
Click.
Erik tossed the sat phone into the crate, grabbed his travel bag, and checked the Glock one more time. He was already halfway out the door when he stopped and looked back. The place was stripped now. No traces. No fingerprints. The bodies in Brazil were probably discovered by now. And whoever sent those men? They’d learn real quick that Erik Stevens didn’t just survive.
He comes back swinging.
D.C. Apartment I March 2021 I 9:14 PM
The dining room smelled like burning vanilla-amber and garlic butter. The extra large pizza box from Domino’s was open on the table between them, crusts bitten off and tossed back in the box like wrapped, garlic sauce half used. A bottle of wine sat on the kitchen island—Moscato. Half-drunk, cheap, and sweet as hell. The kind of bottle you didn’t need a reason to open.
Sanaa sat cross-legged in her spaghetti strap top and those little grey shorts that always rode up. Aaliyah was sprawled sideways on the dining chair, her bonnet lopsided, leggings on, her bare foot digging into the throw carpet like she was nesting.
Music played low from the speaker—SZA ‘Doves In The Wind’—a bass line that made your bones feel soft.
And in the middle of it all?
Legos.
Not a big set. Just a tiny pastel house kit that Aaliyah grabbed for $12 at Marshall’s for ‘mental health reasons’. They built slow between bites and sips, fingers brushing as they passed pieces. No rush.
Sanaa sipped from her glass, eyes half-lidded, “Thi door don make no damn sense.”
“It’s upside down, genius.”
“No, it’s artistic.”
“No, you just wrong.”
They always argued like sisters.
They laughed—soft, full, tipsy. The incense curled behind them in the window shaft. Aaliyah set down her wine glass, stretching her arms above her head, then she let them flop against the table.
Her voice dropped to that dreamy, content tone she got after good food and wine.
“You know I leave for Atlanta in two weeks.”
Sanaa blinked, “Damn. Already?”
“Yep. Fellowship starts in three weeks. They covering my stay and everything.”
Sanaa smiled, small and real, “I’m proud of you, Li-Li. For real.”
Aaliyah adjusted her legs, leaning forward to rest her chin on her forearms, “I’m a miss this though. Us. This vibe. Wine and legos and shooting the shit with fake-deep convos at 2 a.m.”
“Girl, we gon’ FaceTime every night. You not escaping me.”
“Period.”
They clinked glasses.
A moment passed with the music and the incense and the comfor of being fed, warm, and unbothered.
Then, Aaliyah grinned, “Guess who called me today?”
Sanaa reached for another slice, “Who? An old fling from back home tryna slide again?”
They both laughed loud, wine glasses tipping.
Aaliyah shook her head, “No, bitch. Erik.”
Sanaa’s hand paused mid-air. A single blue Lego brick hovering between her fingers.
“…Erik?”
Aaliyah nodded like it was casual, “Mhm. My brother.”
Sanaa’s eyes flicked towards the pizza slice, then back to her friend.
She forced a laugh, “Damn. He still alive?”
“Barely. He sound tried as hell. Called from some weird-ass number like always, like he sittin’ in a cave or a villain lair or some shit.”
Sanaa let out another laugh, smaller this time, “he always been mysterious.”
Aaliyah stretched again, giggling, “He work too much. Never comes around, but he mak sure I’m straight. Sends money, paid for this whole place…I ain’t gotta worry about nothin’ except getting that degree.”
Sanaa swirled what was left of her wine, “that’s love.”
“It is,” Aaliyah said softly, “He quiet about it, but he be watching. Always tapped in.” Then she grinned again, playful, “I asked him if he remember you.”
Sanaa snorted, “Girl, stop.”
“I’m just sayin’. You was always hangin’ around back then.”
“That was forever ago.”
“You had the biggest crush.”
“I did not.”
“You used to get real quiet when he came in the room.”
Sanaa threw a Lego at her. Aaliyah ducked, still laughing.
“I’m just playin’,” sh said, “He probably don’t remember. He sounded like he didn’t.”
“Probably not,” Sanaa echoed, biting into her pizza again.
But her mind wasn’t on the crust.
She hadn’t seen Erik in years. Not since high school graduation. Five whole years. He’d been older, quiet, always in the background, but something about him had always made her pulse slow. He wasn’t like the other guys. He didn’t try to impress. He watched. He entered a room and eyes fell on him easily.
Sanaa reached for thee wine glasses, “Want a refill?”
“Duh.”
Sanaa stood, smoothed her shorts down, and walked towards the open kitchen. From the sink, she called back casually.
“He probably changed a lot over the years, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” Aaliyah called, “He bulked up. Got even quieter. He don’t even post.”
“No pictures?”
“I got one from like a year ago. Hold on.”
Sanaa poured wine with one hand, her ears tuned fully to the sound of Aaliyah’s phone unlocking behind her.
“I mean…just curious. I barely remember what he even look like.”
“Sure,” Aaliyah teased.
Sanaa rolled her eyes as she returned to the table. Aaliyah turned the phone screen towards her.
It was a selfie. From a year ago.
Erik was wearing a black hoodie with the map of the Motherland printed on it. Shades on. Gold caps barely visible between his lips. His locs were pulled back. His expression? Blank. Controlled. You couldn’t see much. But you could see enough.
He was fine as hell.
Sanaa sipped her wine slow, eyes glued to that phone screen. She said nothing, just handed the phone back.
But her stomach was warm now. And it wasn’t just the wine.
After some time, the apartment had quieted.
Aaliyah had gone back to her room, mumbling something about watching Insecure for the tenth time while finishing off the last of the wine. Sanaa cleaned up the snacks and crumbs, put out the incense since it was down to a nub, and padded back to her room.
The lights were off.
Only her bedside lamp glowed low and warm against the shadows. Sanaa peeled out of her tank, tossed it in the hamper, and pulled on one of her oversized tees. The soft kind. The kind with faded graphics. She slipped into bed, pulled the covers up to her waist, and laid on her back—phone in hand, scrolling through nothing. Her screen dimmed once, twice, before she finally tossed it on the pillow beside her.
But sleep didn’t come.
Her thoughts drifted backward.
Past D.C.
Past Howard.
Back to Oakland.
Oakland, California I Sanaa, Age 16 I
The house had been full that entire day. One of those loud summer-afternoon cookouts that rolled over into the night. The grill smoke had already stains the curtains. Somebody’s auntie was dancing in the living room to oldies. Babies crawling. Unc’s arguing over dominoes in the back. Scraper bikes riding down the block. Frankie Beverly playing low under the chaos from an old boom-box.
And Erik walked in.
Fresh off the flight from Boston.
His hair bigger than before. A thick, kinky fro that sat proud and full with faded temples. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose like always. Cartier. No hoodie that time. Just a white tee clinging to his chest, chain tucked underneath.
He looked older. Sharper. Smarter.
He was tall already, but the way he carried himself was new. Like he knew something they didn’t.
Everyone had swarmed him.
“Boy, look at you!”
“You got big!”
“MIT? god is good!”
“Your daddy would be so proud…”
Sanaa had stayed quiet posted near the hallway wall, sipping on a grape soda, pretending not to stare.
But she saw it. A flicker.
The second someone mentioned his father, something shifted behind his eyes. A quick shadow. Erik covered it fast with a head nod and a tight grin. Said something smooth to shift the attention. And it worked.
Later that night, the music had died down. People had packed up and gone home. One of Erik’s uncles stayed behind to sleep on the couch—snoring. Aaliyah was in her room running her mouth on the phone and Sanaa had slipped out to the kitchen for a refill of water.
That’s when she saw him.
Erik.
Shirtless.
He was standing by the kitchen sink, his back to her, muscles carved along his back. A tattoo in calligraphic or spiritual script rested between his shoulder blades. His chain glinted against his russet skin.
He turned when he heard her. Calm. Low-voiced.
“What’s good, Nae-Nae?”
Sanaa froze, “Just gettin’ a drink.”
Erik nodded once, “How you been?”
Her voice was small, “Good.”
Erik watched her for a moment, then looked down at the sink before speaking again.
“I’m headin’ out next month.”
Sanaa paused with her hand on the fridge handle, “Yeah?”
“Navy.”
There was something flat in the way he said it. No excitement. No pride. Just fact
Her eyes flicked to his face, then away, “congrats. That’s major.”
Erik gave a small nod, “Appreciate it.”
Silence settled between them. It wasn’t awkward but something unsaid hung low in the room. Like she wanted to ask more but didn’t know how. Like he was used to not explaining.
Erik finished the rest of his drink, dropped the cup in the trash, and pushed off of the counter.
“Good to see you, Bri.”
Sanaa looked up, startled he said that nickname. Erik hardly spoke a word. Hardly even acknowledged her.
“You too.”
Then, he turned and walked out, bare feet silent on the tile, body disappearing down the hall into the dark. Sanaa stood there gripping her cup, not blinking. Her heart tapped too fast against her ribs. She stared after his retreating body long after he was gone, her breath catching in her throat.
In that moment, she didn’t want to be sixteen. She wanted to be grown. Old enough. Brave enough. She wanted to kiss him. To touch him. To say something that would make him stop and look at her like she wasn’t just the girl always hanging in his little sister’s room.
She knew deep down it would never happen.
But that didn’t stop the want.
Present Day
Sanaa rolled onto her side, tugging the sheet higher up her body. Her glass of mango juice left untouched on her nightstand. She stared at the slow burning candle flame on her night stand for a while before blowing it out.
Erik.
She hadn’t thought about him like that in years. Or maybe she had at some point. Maybe he just stayed tucked in that dusty corner of her mind reserved for old crushes and impossible daydreams. But now she was older. Twenty-two. Living with his little sister. And he was probably somewhere across the world, giving all that stoic, heavy energy to some woman who actually matched him. A woman who knew what to do with a man like that.
Not her. Not Sanaa
If he ever showed up now, she told herself, he wouldn’t look twice at her.
She was still Aaliyah’s best friend.
Still off-limits.
Washington, D.C. I Ronald Reagan National Airport I March 2021 I 11:18 PM
The plane touched down with a hiss of tires and a subtle lurch that made the windowpanes rattle. Erik sat with his back pressed to the seat, knees wide, eyes forward the entire flight.
When the plane taxied toward the gate, Erik finally shifted in his seat, only to reach down and secure his duffel. The bag never left his side. That was rule number two. By the time he stepped through the terminal, the airport had that late-night quiet. Not silent, but drained. Just floor polishers, a small scatter of TSA agents, and a few strangers waiting on late flights.
Erik moved like a shadow—black hoodie over his head, drawstrings pulled just enough. His long, black duffel over one shoulder. Fitted black cargos. Heavy-soled boots. His hoodie was thick and clean, zipped three-quarters up. Underneath, a tight thermal hugged his chest. His black gloves were still tucked into his back pocket, and his locs were pulled back into a short tie. Only the glint of his gold-rimmed glasses and the faintest flash of gold caps when he licked his lips gave any hint of shine. Otherwise, he was shadow work. Erik walked with determination, but not speed. Eyes sharp. Head on a slow swivel. He tracked every janitor. Every motion sensor. Every phone raised too long
Hyper-vigilant.
Like something was still on his tail.
Because something always was.
Outside, Erik walked past the lines of rideshare pickups and tourists fumbling with luggage. He bypassed all that. Slipped into the lot where his car waited—black SUV, tinted. He threw the duffel in the back, got in the front seat, and sat for a moment with the engine off. The glow of the dash lights flickered against his skin. He didn’t move. Then he leaned over and pulled out a manila envelope. Inside: printouts of surveillance logs, satellite images, and one folded page with red markings. The names. The location where the hit was made. The theory.
Someone had leaked his location.
Still no proof.
But his instincts were screaming.
He tucked the folder away, started the engine, and pulled out slow.
He didn’t take the direct road.
He looped. Changed lanes. Cut through quiet streets in Southeast. Passed up his own turn just to double back. Every red light, he scanned both mirrors. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the alley behind the apartment building. Same walk-up Aaliyah had been in for almost a year. Erik hadn’t been here since he handed over the down payment. He parked in the back corner where the security camera didn’t reach. Killed the lights.
Then sat still again.
He could see the glow from the third-floor window.
Not Aaliyah’s room. The other one.
Someone was still awake.
He tapped his fingers against the wheel, slow and even. Erik pulled his hoodie tighter. Checked his Glock in the glove compartment, then stepped out into the night.
Boots hit pavement.
He didn’t knock. Just walked toward the back entrance with his key in hand, his shoulders broad and posture calm—but every cell in his body still humming like he hadn’t left Brazil at all. He was home. But only technically.
And Erik Stevens didn’t let his guard down for anyone.
Washington, D.C. | The Apartment | March 2021 | 12:12 AM
The front door clicked shut with barely a sound. Erik stood in the dim entryway, letting his eyes adjust. A hallway stretched out ahead of him—closed doors on either side, one faint lamp glowing near the living room. Quiet. Clean. Feminine touches everywhere. Shoes lined up neat by the wall. A throw blanket tossed across the sectional. Candles on the console table that smelled like something warm—vanilla, maybe brown sugar. His nose flared once, catching something sweeter underneath. Peach and incense smoke and woman.
He shook it off.
Stepped forward. Boots silent on the hardwood. He passed the kitchen, noting the empty wine glasses in the sink. The apartment felt lived-in, soft around the edges. A far cry from the dusty safehouses and cement flats he’d been moving through the past year. His room was at the end of the hall. Erik opened the door and stepped inside. It smelled like dry wood, fresh paint, and the faintest trace of cedar.
Simple layout.
A king-sized bed against the wall, dark frame, gray sheets.
One dresser.
One heavy-duty black trunk at the foot of the bed.
A freestanding wardrobe Erik had assembled himself the last time he came through.
No clutter. No photos. Just function.
The walls were bare. The blackout curtains pulled.
But he walked to the window anyway, peeled one side open, and looked out. D.C. glowed soft beneath the clouds. Streetlights buzzing, cars humming past in the distance. Not home. But not foreign. Erik stood there for a long second, jaw tight, letting his body slowly ease out of alert mode. It never truly stopped but it slowed, just enough to think.
Then he moved.
Unzipped the duffel.
Laid out his weapons first—one black matte Glock, two folding knives, a burner phone, a watch, a few USBs wrapped in tape. He tucked them into the locked drawer of the dresser. Then came the clothes—black cargos, black thermals, tanks, rolled socks, one soft hoodie he didn’t remember packing. He folded them into the dresser drawers with exact precision. Finally, he grabbed a fresh towel, a clean pair of black briefs, and a bottle of Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap. His travel shampoo was already in the side pouch. He checked the hallway, then stepped out. The hall light buzzed faintly overhead as he turned the knob and entered the bathroom.
It was warm. Humid. Somebody had just been in here.
The softest traces of shea butter still clung to the air. The mirror was fogged around the edges. There were two bonnets hanging off the towel rack. A pink satin robe tossed over the back of the door. Three bottles lined the edge of the tub—honey almond conditioner, something labeled “Mango & Hibiscus,” and a hair detangler with a cartoon Black girl on the label.
His brow twitched but he didn’t pause just stepped in, locked the door, and turned the shower on hot.
Steam swallowed the room quick. Erik peeled off his hoodie, shirt, and pants, dropping them in a neat pile near the sink. He stepped under the stream. Let it rush over his skin, head tilted back, eyes closed. First came the soap—lathered into his palms, slicked over his chest, arms, shoulders, stomach. He scrubbed everywhere. Rinsed. Did it again. Couldn’t stand the smell of foreign bodies or sweat lingering on him. That was rule number two. He grabbed the shampoo, squeezed a line into his palm, and rubbed it through his locs. Took his time. Fingertips dug into his scalp slow, methodical. He rinsed twice, made sure every drop of dirt and memory of jungle heat was gone. When he was done, he stood under the water one more minute.
Let it burn. Let it clean. Let it quiet his mind.
Then he stepped out.
He dried off just enough to keep water from dripping all over the floor. Tied the towel low on his waist. His skin steamed. He left his dirty clothes in the hamper and opened the bathroom door, still toweling at his locs. Barefoot. Chest out. Arms cut and soaked. Gold glinting faint behind his damp glasses.
That’s when he heard it.
A soft laugh.
High. Sweet. Familiar.
He paused.
Turned toward the source—a cracked bedroom door halfway down the hall. A warm lamp glow spilled through the crack. He moved without sound, every step practiced.
Another giggle. Low and throaty.
He narrowed his eyes.
Listened.
That wasn’t a stranger. He hadn’t heard that laugh in five years.
Erik moved—fluid and quiet—until he stood in front of the partially cracked door. The light spilling through was low and golden, lamp-warm, flickering shadows from a strand of fairy lights pinned across the top of the room. Soft music hummed under it all, something mellow with bass, the kind of track that sat deep in your chest.
He leaned in, just enough to glimpse what had stopped him.
There she was.
Sanaa.
She sat sideways on the bed, one knee tucked under her, one bare foot dangling off the side as she talked on the phone, her voice soft, animated, laughing at something unheard. She hadn’t seen him. Didn’t know he was there. The glow from her screen lit up one side of her face, warm against her cheekbones and the line of her jaw.
That glossy, espresso-brown skin shimmered with softness, her curly hair sweeping over one shoulder. Gold hoops winked beneath the halo of her hair. A fitted mocha-colored tank hugged her figure, shoulders bare, waist snatched, soft black shorts clinging to full hips. Legs stretched long and toned, crossed loosely at the ankle.
Erik blinked, once. Jaw flexing just slightly.
Still soft-spoken with that unreadable gaze—though right now it was on her phone screen, smiling at whoever was on the other end. Her laugh was light, casual, like she was on FaceTime with one of her girls. He couldn’t make out the words.
Erik lingered one more second. Just one.
Then backed away without a sound. Like he hadn’t been there at all.
In his room, Erik shut the door and leaned against it for a beat. Took a breath through his nose, slow. Rolled his shoulders back like he was brushing it off.
Then he moved.
Tossed the towel over the chair. Changed into a plain black tee and fitted sweats. His body still carried that edge from Brazil—coiled tight, veins raised, the fresh scars on his knuckles pulling as he flexed his hands. He could still smell her room on him—burnt sage, hair oil, something sweet and spiced. Leftover heat clinging to his skin from the shower.
He sat at the edge of the bed, and that’s when he heard it.
Footsteps again. A softer rhythm on the hardwood. Then a quiet shuffle. Fabric brushing. The soft clink of a glass. Movement out in the hallway.
Erik moved toward the door, quiet. Not all the way to open it, just to listen. He didn’t have to wonder long.
A shadow passed under the crack of light.
And then, a figure.
She walked by without glancing his way. A casual sway to her hips, still barefoot, hoodie thrown on now over whatever she’d been wearing earlier. Phone in hand. She paused for a second in the kitchen—pouring water, maybe—then disappeared around the corner again.
No words.
No eye contact.
Just presence.
Erik waited a beat. Then turned back inside.
He didn’t think too hard about it.
But he noticed.
The apartment door creaked open just past six.
Aaliyah stumbled in first, balancing her messenger bag on one shoulder and a leftover lunch container in her hand. Behind her, Sanaa stepped through the threshold with her own bags, her jet black curls pulled up in a messy puff that had started out cute but now sagged with the weight of the day. She kicked off her shoes with a sigh that emptied her whole chest.
“Remind me why I thought back-to-back labs and a 300-level seminar on a Friday was a good idea?” Sanaa dropped her tote bag by the entryway.
“You were trying to prove you could do it all,” Aaliyah replied, tossing her keys on the counter, “Superwoman. Remember?”
Sanaa rolled her eyes, dragging her feet toward the kitchen.
They stood there for a moment, shoulder to shoulder in front of the open fridge, both blinking into the fluorescent light as if expecting a miracle to reveal itself between a bottle of oat milk and a box of leftovers neither of them wanted.
“I say we order,” Sanaa offered.
“I second that motion.” Aaliyah shut the fridge, “I gotta text Erik. He said he was coming.”
Sanaa’s head tilted, “So, he is staying?”
“He should already be here.” Aaliyah checked her phone, “His flight got in last night. Oh, he said he went to the gym.”
A small knot of nerves stirred low in Sanaa’s belly.
“Let me go freshen up,” Sanaa said, suddenly aware of how sweaty her thighs felt, “I feel gross.”
“Same, sis” Aaliyah said, “I’ll find something to order while you shower.”
Sanaa darted to the hallway bathroom, stripped quickly, and stood under the spray longer than she should’ve. She used her good body wash. The one with the vanilla undertones and that little citrus kick that made her skin feel expensive. Afterward, she dried off, slipped on a cropped tee and a pair of ribbed shorts that hugged her hips. She didn’t think twice about it.
Until she heard his voice.
It was low. A deep baritone in the kitchen—steadier now than it used to be. Still quiet, but firm. She caught the soft cadence of Aaliyah replying, then a laugh. Sanaa froze at the edge of the hallway. She heard the hum of the fridge door, the clink of a glass being set down.
Then she turned the corner and saw him.
Erik.
Leaning against the kitchen island, arm flexed on the counter. Hair longer now, locs thick and dark, pulled into a half-tied bun that showed off the slope of his jaw. He wore a black athletic tee, sleeves hugging the round of his biceps, the fabric darkened with sweat at the collarbone and leaving nothing to the imagination. Not even the keloid scars meticulously placed. Up and down his arms. Visible through his sweat-drenched shirt. Joggers hung low on his hips, drawstring loose, his legs parted slightly as he reached for a bottle of water. His skin was deeper now. Like it had soaked in sun and held onto it. And he had filled out. Solid chest. Wide back. Forearms marked with faint veins and scars Sanaa couldn’t stop admiring from where she stood. Inked.
He looked up.
Their eyes met.
Sanaa’s breath caught.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just studied her with that same unreadable expression from when they were younger. No smile. No reaction. Just the weight of his gaze flicking from her face down the length of her and back up again. She wished she had put on a bra. Or longer shorts. Or anything that didn’t make her feel like her nipples were pointing out directions.
Aaliyah noticed the silence and broke it with a grin, “E, you remember Bri, right?”
Erik’s head nodded once, “Yeah.”
Sanaa smiled, a little awkward, “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey,” he echoed.
They moved in for a hug. It was stiff. Her arms brushed his damp shirt. He was warm and solid and smelled like cologne layered over sweat. Clean but raw. Something primal stirred in her gut. She hoped her face didn’t show it. He didn’t linger. Just one arm, a quick pull, then he backed away.
Aaliyah teased, “Y’all definitely look like strangers.”
Erik reached for the water again, “Been a minute.”
“Five years,” Sanaa said before she could stop herself.
He glanced at her again, eyes unreadable. That was all.
Aaliyah spoke, “Anyway—food. Sanaa, check the app. I’m starving.”
She moved around them and out of the kitchen, leaving Sanaa in Erik’s orbit. The air felt thick. Too quiet. She could still feel the heat from his body like he’d left something behind on her skin. Erik walked to the living room and dropped onto the couch. Remote in hand, TV on mute. He didn’t flip channels. Just let the images play, his eyes barely on them. Sanaa leaned against the wall, arms crossed, pretending to scroll her phone. But she was watching him.
His legs were wide. Joggers slouched, the fabric soft at the thigh. His hand rested near his knee—long fingers, clean, blunt-cut nails and faint calluses that suggested he lifted things heavier than dumbbells. His tee had shifted slightly as he leaned back, revealing the curve of his waist and a sliver of raised scars trailing below his shirt.
Sanaa’s thighs clenched.
She swallowed.
He scratched the edge of his jaw, then reached up to adjust his locs. That movement—slow, deliberate—made her feel like she was intruding on something private.
Still the same Erik. Quiet. Intense. Like he kept most of himself tucked behind a wall and only let a sliver show.
Only now…he wasn’t just mysterious.
He was dangerous.
She didn’t even realize Aaliyah was calling her name until she flinched.
“Girl—what’s up with you?” Aaliyah stood at the far end of the kitchen, “I asked if you want Thai or Caribbean.”
“Oh. Uh—Caribbean’s fine.”
“You good?”
“Yeah,” Sanaa said quickly, pushing off the wall and heading toward the kitchen, “Just tired.”
She didn’t look back at him.
But she felt it—like his attention hadn’t left her, even if he never once said a word to make her sure of it.
Aaliyah turned from the counter and called out toward the living room. “E, that okay with you? Caribbean?”
Erik shifted where he sat, his arm draped along the back of the couch. The light from the TV cast a faint blue across the side of his jaw. He looked over toward the kitchen slowly, eyes moving past the counter, past Aaliyah—landing on Sanaa for a heartbeat too long.
“Yeah,” he said. His voice had that unbothered, low drawl. Not rushed. Not eager. Just settled, “That’s cool. I’ll order. Just let me know what y’all want.”
Aaliyah nodded and leaned against the island, “Same as always for me. Jerk chicken, rice and peas, plantains, cabbage if they got it.” Then she glanced toward Sanaa, “Bri?”
Sanaa met Erik’s eyes again. His stare wasn’t harsh, but it held weight. The kind that pressed against her chest without touching her. She tucked a curl behind her ear and cleared her throat lightly.
“Uh…brown stew chicken,” she said, “Extra gravy. White rice. And—”
“Plantains?” Aaliyah chimed in.
Sanaa gave a sheepish smile, “Yeah.”
Erik nodded once, “Got it.”
He reached for his phone and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. That posture made his back stretch the cotton of his shirt tight. The muscles underneath moved slow, like shifting ground. Sanaa forced her eyes away.
“I’m gonna go freshen up,” Aaliyah said, already walking down the hall, “Don’t steal none of my food, either of y’all.”
Sanaa laughed under her breath, but her body tensed the moment Aaliyah disappeared around the corner. The hallway light clicked on. Water started running. And just like that, the apartment dipped into something quieter.
She turned to face the kitchen sink and leaned forward to rinse out her cup—buying time, pretending she wasn’t aware of the way the air had changed.
Behind her, she could feel him. Not in a mystical sense. Just in the way stillness takes up space. Like a shift in pressure when a storm’s coming and the trees hush for it.
Erik didn’t speak. The only sound was the faint swiping of his fingers across the phone screen, probably locking in the order. She thought about turning on the radio or asking if he wanted something to drink, but neither of those thoughts made it out of her mouth.
She was too aware of her own body. The hem of her shorts creeping higher every time she moved. The chill of the kitchen floor curling up her bare legs. The way her shirt clung just a little too soft against her chest. She wrapped her arms across herself and glanced over her shoulder.
He was still looking at the screen.
Or maybe he wasn’t.
She couldn’t tell.
She turned back to the sink and gripped the edge of the counter, heart ticking a little faster.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.
But she knew this part of the story would be replayed later. In her head. In a quiet room. She’d remember how small she felt in those few minutes. How loud her body felt inside the silence.
And how Erik, with his long limbs, his gym-worn calm, and that gaze that didn’t give anything away, had already unsettled her without lifting a single finger.
She heard the soft shift of fabric before she saw him.
Erik stood from the couch right as Sanaa turned from the sink. It caught her off guard—the quiet of his movements, how such a large man could move with barely a sound. His phone was in one hand, thumb still resting against the side like he hadn’t quite let go of the last thing he touched. He towered, shoulders squared, back straight, not crowding her but definitely there. Present in a way that made the space feel smaller.
They faced each other at the mouth of the hallway.
She hadn’t meant to block the way. She stepped slightly to the side, motioning with a soft “Sorry,” and tried to pass him.
But he shifted too—just a beat behind her—and then paused.
“You good?” he asked.
His voice didn’t rise, didn’t carry. Just floated between them with a quiet pull.
She glanced up, “Yeah, all good.”
For half a second, neither moved.
Then Erik stepped aside, letting her pass first.
Sanaa walked ahead of him, suddenly too aware of every part of her body—the roll of her hips, the sway of her thighs, the way her bare skin prickled under the hallway light. She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel the way his gaze might have followed. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment playing tricks on her. But something about his stillness—his deliberate calm—made her pulse flicker behind her ribs.
When she reached her bedroom door, she hesitated with her hand on the knob.
Behind her, Erik’s footsteps were just beginning to move. Slow. Unhurried.
She opened the door and stepped inside without another glance.
But she felt it—the slight burn behind her ears, the ache low in her belly. Just something waiting. Something strange and unfamiliar.
She shut the door softly.
And on the other side of the hallway, Erik walked past—silent again, unreadable, carrying something in his silence that Sanaa was already struggling to ignore. The click of the latch was soft, but it echoed louder in her head. No TV. No conversation. Just silence. Thick and close, like her room had swallowed her whole.
She breathed in. Then let it out slow.
The first time she sees Erik—really sees him—it’s like her whole body goes still.
Not scared.
Not awkward.
But shaken.
She hadn’t been expecting him to be there already. Hadn’t been expecting him to be the one in the kitchen. And she sure as hell hadn’t been expecting him to look like that.
Big. Broad. Calm.
That shirt looked like it was stitched just to fall off his frame a certain way. Jaw carved deeper than she remembered. Locs longer, thicker, tied back with a casual knot that still looked deliberate. His shoulders looked heavier like they’d been carrying something more than just weight. And she’d walked in like it was just any other night. Little shorts, no bra under her tank. Gloss on her lips. Hair still a little damp from her quick shower. Comfortable. Until she wasn’t.
Because of the way he looked at her.
That pause.
Not long. Just enough.
There had been recognition, sure. The kind that said I know you. I remember.
But behind that?
Something else.
Something heavier.
Something that made her chest tighten and her thighs shift.
It was quick. Blink-and-miss-it fast. But she caught it. She felt it.
That little flutter in her stomach?
That slow-blooming oh?
Yeah. That was real.
She moved to the mirror across the room and leaned in, studying her reflection. Gloss still intact. Hair still soft around her face. Nipples still hard beneath her shirt. She crossed her arms, then dropped them again. No point pretending now.
Her pulse was still up.
And her mind wouldn’t shut up.
“That’s Erik?”
“Since when his voice got deeper?”
“Why he look at me like that?”
“Fuck. I can’t be acting thirsty.”
She pressed her fingers to her temples and sighed.
It wasn’t just attraction. It was awareness. The kind that stretched out slow, crawling across her skin. She was aware of everything now—the way her thighs touched when she stood still, the warmth behind her knees, the hum in her chest.
She wasn’t nervous in the run-and-hide way.
She was nervous in the stay way.
The linger way.
The kind that pulled her in instead of pushing her out.
He hadn’t looked at her like she was Aaliyah’s little friend anymore. He hadn’t even spoken to her like that. He said maybe three words, and she’d felt it. That shift. That new weight to him. That quiet pull.
She walked past him on the way to her room like it was nothing. But she knew her hips had switched different. She felt the swing in them. The soft arch of her back. She knew.
Because he was watching.
And now it was stuck in her.
Every time she thought of his voice from down the hall— low, steady, effortless—she felt it all over again. That warmth between her legs. That slow pulse behind her ribs. That ache to look again. Just one more time.
Erik wasn’t just her best friend’s big brother anymore.
He was a man.
And he just became a problem.
By the time Sanaa stepped back out into the apartment, the food had arrived and the lights in the kitchen had shifted to a low, golden hum. Aaliyah was already setting out the containers, her voice light, laughter spilling from her mouth as she opened the brown paper bags one by one, the smell of oxtail and curry filling the whole space.
Sanaa’s curls were down now, wild and soft. They tumbled past her shoulders, framing her face in loose, shiny spirals. She hadn’t changed. Still in her little shorts and tee. But she had added one thing—gold hoops that caught the light every time she moved. Her lips were glossed again, this time a deeper tint. She looked relaxed, but there was a spark in her step now. Like she had quietly decided to lean in.
“Food’s here!” Aaliyah called, peeking over her shoulder, “You makin’ drinks or just bein’ cute?”
Sanaa grinned. She was already reaching into their stash cabinet above the fridge, dragging down the bottle of dark rum and the leftover fruit juice, “Let me make it nice,” she said, pulling out a tall glass pitcher.
Aaliyah watched her with a smirk and sang out in patois, playful and teasing, “Yuh a real yard gyal now, eh? Gwaan like you run dis ting!”
Sanaa laughed, the accent slipping in smooth and easy as water, “Mi nuh haffi gwaan like nothin’. Mi always run dis ting.”
Aaliyah let out a loud cackle, dancing in place as she cued up her phone. The speaker kicked to life with the bounce of Notch – Nuh Go So, bass curling up around their legs. Aaliyah started whining her waist right there in front of the counter, rolling her hips slow, over-exaggerated, dramatic as hell.
“Yuh cyah manage di wine, Aaliyah,” Sanaa teased.
“Please. Ask your Auntie who taught me.”
“You learn wrong!”
They were still laughing when he came out.
Erik.
Freshly showered, locs loose and brushing his shoulders. No retwist, no effort—just damp and wild in the best way. A white tank clung to his chest, soft from too many washes, and the grey joggers sat low on his waist. White socks. Gold Cuban chain around his neck catching the light just enough to make you look twice. He paused just outside the hallway, expression unreadable, brow lifted as he took in the scene.
His eyes flicked to Aaliyah first—who was still mid-wine, arm up like she was in a soca video. Then to Sanaa. Briefly. But there was a shift in his gaze when it landed on her. Not obvious. Just the pause. That flicker. The weight of seeing her, standing there with her wild curls, gold hoops, rum bottle in one hand and hips cocked to the side. He didn’t say anything. Just smoothed a hand back through his locs—only for them to fall again. The move failed. He let it.
“You good?” Aaliyah asked him, still moving a little, grinning.
“I’m straight,” he replied, stepping forward to the table.
He pulled out a chair and sat, stretching his legs under the table and settling in like he’d been there the whole time. The tension that had been in his shoulders earlier seemed to loosen a little. He leaned back, arm resting on the back of the chair next to him, and scanned the food casually.
“You still don’t like plantain, huh?” Aaliyah asked, opening the styrofoam containers.
“Don’t start.” he warned, deadpan.
“I’m just asking questions, waterhead,” she teased, popping a piece into her mouth.
Sanaa giggled as she finished stirring the punch. She walked to the table, the pitcher in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“You want some?” she asked, looking at Erik.
He glanced at the pitcher. Then at her again. She had a slight tilt to her head when she asked—innocent, but not unaware. He gave a small nod.
“Yeah. I’ll try it.”
She poured him a glass first, the liquid a deep pink-red with bits of fresh lime and orange floating on top. She set it in front of him gently. The ring of the glass against the table felt louder than it should’ve been. He gave a soft “Appreciate it,” and reached for the drink without looking up.
They tucked into the food soon after.
Sanaa sat across from Erik, Aaliyah diagonal. The music still played low behind them, filling the pauses with rhythm. The kind of dinner that didn’t need too much talking. Everything smelled too good. The kind of heat that hit your mouth and made your toes curl.
About halfway through her plate, Aaliyah wiped her mouth and turned toward her brother.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, still casual, “How long you in D.C. before you vanish again?”
Erik took a slow sip of the punch. Then set the glass down and shrugged with one shoulder.
“Got some time,” he said, “So a while.”
“That’s all we get?”
“That’s all I got.”
Aaliyah huffed but didn’t push it. She knew better. She turned her focus back to her food.
But across the table, Sanaa was watching. Not staring. Just…watching. The same way she always did. Quiet. Deep. Taking in every word, every breath, every blink. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t press. But she was already clocking the way he carried that answer.
So a while.
No date. No details.
Still a mystery.
But one that had just taken a seat at her table.
The clink of utensils had faded. Most of the food had been picked over, drinks half-finished, the music now low enough to hum in the background. Erik leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting from his near-empty plate to the woman sitting across from him. His gaze lingered longer than before. Still unreadable. But more present. More focused.
“You almost finished school?” he asked, tone even.
Sanaa looked up from her glass, surprised to hear him address her directly. She nodded once, slow, “Yeah. Senior year.”
He gave a slight tilt of his chin, like that tracked, “What you studying?”
“Psych. Pre-med track. I do research too.”
Something flickered in his eyes. He didn’t smile. Not really. But there was a small pull at the corner of his mouth. Enough to show the faintest glimpse of a dimple.
“Smart,” he said.
Sanaa gave a short huff of a laugh, her shoulders rising with it. She looked down at her drink for a beat, then took a small sip to steady herself. The warmth of the rum was already curled in her belly, but now it mixed with something else. That faint dimple? The fact that he noticed? It made her stomach flutter.
Erik glanced back at her, still curious, “When you move in with Aaliyah?”
“Couple months ago,” she replied, “I got tired of campus living. Needed peace.”
He nodded again, like he understood.
Across the table, Aaliyah stretched and groaned, “Y’all wanna play Uno or y’all boring?”
Sanaa looked over at her, then flicked her eyes back to Erik without thinking.
He caught the glance. Didn’t say anything at first. Then gave a slow nod, “Yeah. I’m down.”
Aaliyah grinned and stood, “Bet. I got the cards in my room.”
As she walked off, Sanaa pushed her chair back to start clearing the plates. She reached for her own first, then Erik’s. He stood at the same time, moving in sync with her, and their fingers brushed—brief, unintentional, but enough to make her heart skip.
They both paused. Eyes met. Just a second. Then she looked away, stacking the containers. Erik reached for the rest without a word. They walked to the kitchen together. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was too full for that. Too full of glances and quiet breath. Of things not yet named but already felt.
As Sanaa opened the fridge, she caught his arm out the corner of her eye. Scarred. Not fresh—but not faint either. Stories she didn’t know. And above the neckline of his tank, just peeking near his collarbone, was a tattoo. Half-hidden. Half-bold. Something about it made her fingers twitch.
He didn’t speak.
She grabbed a clean towel and started wiping the counter. The song shifted behind them.
Then, softly, she said, “I like your hair.”
Erik looked over. Not fast. Just turned his head and studied her with that same even quiet he always carried.
“It’s nice like that,” she added, “Untamed. Rooted.”
A pause.
His hand lifted to his shoulder, fingers grazing one of the locs that had fallen forward.
“Appreciate it,” he said, voice low.
He didn’t smile this time. But he held her gaze.
Longer than before.
And this time, Sanaa didn’t look away.
Sanaa poured herself another glass of rum punch and took a long, slow sip. Her curls brushed her shoulders, gold hoops catching the light each time she moved. She was not performing. She never performed. She simply existed with a kind of quiet pull, every gesture deliberate without trying to be.
Erik leaned against the counter, forearms resting along the edge. The tank he wore clung to him in the places that mattered. Collarbones. Chest. Arms carved from work and time. His locs fell loose against his shoulders, still slightly damp.
He watched her without facing her directly. Sanaa pretended not to notice. That was her game. She always played quiet. She set her glass down. The ring of it on the counter was soft, but it cut through the stillness. She stepped closer, the fabric of her tiny shorts brushing the top of her thigh as she moved. Slow. Purposeful.
Erik stayed still.
Her eyes dropped to his inner arm. The keloid scars, raised and textured, caught her attention again. They were not loud, but they spoke in a language she did not yet know. There was history etched there. Something he had carried for a long time.
Without asking, she reached out. Two fingers. Light touch. She traced one of the raised lines down his skin. Warm. Firm. Scarred.
Erik froze.
Not in fear. Not in tension. In something else. He looked down at her hand, then at her face. His breathing changed, just a slight shift. He did not pull back. Sanaa lifted her eyes, watching him with that quiet, intentional focus she used when she wanted to understand someone. Her voice came out soft enough to make him lean in to catch the sound.
“What do they mean?”
His jaw flexed. A pause. Then his answer came low and firm.
“Nothing to concern you with, Nae Nae.”
Her lips curved into a faint smile. Not mockery. Not challenge. Something almost tender. Soft. Controlled. She gave one last slow drag of her finger along the scars, then stepped back and picked up her glass.
He did not move.
She turned toward the dining room, hips shifting with that slow rhythm she never forced. Her curls bounced lightly behind her. She did not look back. She did not need to. She walked away like her body already understood the effect she had.
Erik followed her with his eyes, then pressed his palm against the counter once she was out of sight. Quiet breath. No words.
Aaliyah returned right then, bursting into the dining room with the Uno cards held above her head. Her voice was bright. Loud. Completely unaware of the tension still clinging to the kitchen doorway.
“Alright. Who ready to get beat?”
Sanaa took another sip of her drink, her posture calm. She placed her glass down beside the container of plantains and slid into her seat without a hint of what had just passed between her and Erik.
Erik stepped into the dining room a moment later, expression leveled out again, but his eyes found Sanaa first. Quick flick. Brief drift. Then he sat down across from her, his shoulders relaxed but his attention sharp.
The Uno deck hit the table with a snap, scattering cards and setting the tone.
Aaliyah was already talking trash before the first hand was even dealt.
“I hope y’all ready to get washed. I don’t care if you fresh off a plane or a psych lab ain’t no mercy at this table!”
Sanaa smiled into her rum punch, legs crossed, posture effortless. The ice clinked softly in her glass as she took another sip. Her lip gloss hadn’t smudged, her curls still wild and free. She wasn’t trying to be anything. That was the problem.
She just was.
Erik sat across from her again, slow and steady, legs wide under the table. His gold chain glinted faintly under the kitchen light. His expression didn’t give much away. But he shuffled the cards like a man who’d been waiting to win.
And win he did. Two rounds in, Aaliyah was yelling.
“How?! That math ain’t mathin’, Erik! There’s no way you ain’t peekin’ at the deck. I know you cheating.”
“I’m not,” he said, calm as ever.
“Please. You stacked that hand like a dealer in Vegas.”
Sanaa laughed, soft and tipsy. Her cheeks were warm. The rum had settled behind her knees. The heat made her sit looser, her posture dipped and relaxed. One leg slipped free and stretched under the table, brushing against Erik’s calf.
Accidental.
At first.
He didn’t move.
She didn’t, either.
He drew his next card with a flick of his wrist. But his eyes cut sideways to hers for just a second. Just long enough for her to raise a brow and smile.
“You quiet, Bri,” Aaliyah teased, “Plotting?”
“Always,” Sanaa replied, gaze still on her cards, “Y’all gon’ learn.”
Erik scoffed low.
Sanaa didn’t say anything.
Just slid a two Draw Four’s onto the pile like it was nothing.
Aaliyah gasped, “Oop!”
Erik glanced down at the cards, then at her.
His jaw flexed.
“Really?” he asked.
Sanaa sipped her punch, eyes soft, amused, “Play the game.”
He reached for eight cards, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Shame,” Aaliyah teased, “Big boss man taken out by some fruity rum and a Draw Four.”
Sanaa tried not to laugh, but the sound slipped anyway. A little too soft. A little too easy. Her head tipped back and her foot brushed his leg again. Still nothing too obvious. Still no apology.
She just let it happen.
The table felt smaller with each round. Elbows brushed. Cards slid back and forth. Erik’s leg stayed near hers now, their knees touching once, twice, then staying pressed just faintly in the middle. She leaned forward once to pick up a dropped card, and the hem of her shorts lifted a little higher on her thigh. Erik saw it. She knew he did. He didn’t look for long. But his hand twitched when she sat back down.
Another round.
More laughter.
Aaliyah was on her second glass now, her head resting on her arm between turns.
“You two are annoying,” she whined, “I feel like I’m in the middle of a standoff and I don’t know the rules.”
Sanaa looked at her, smiling sweetly, “We just playing Uno.”
Erik said nothing.
But when Sanaa reached across the table to place her next card, her fingers grazed his again.
That time, he looked at her full on.
And she looked right back.
Still quiet. Still smooth.
But something shifted.
The air got thick again.
No one spoke on it.
The laughter had softened.
The deck was worn and scattered across the table, edges curled from years of use. Aaliyah slumped against her chair, her glass long empty, her cheeks warm and flushed with tipsy contentment. She rubbed her temples and let out a long, dramatic groan.
“Alright,” she sighed, “I’m cooked. That last draw four took the last bit of life outta me.”
Sanaa chuckled under her breath, watching her best friend stumble to her feet with the grace of someone who thought they were sober. Aaliyah shuffled toward the fridge and filled a glass of water, sipping with lazy care.
“I hate both of y’all,” she added mid-sip.
“You just a sore loser,” Sanaa teased, rising from her chair and wrapping her arms around Aaliyah from behind.
Aaliyah whined and squirmed, “Don’t squeeze me! I’m delicate right now.”
Sanaa laughed, letting her go. Aaliyah grabbed her water and headed down the hallway, feet dragging across the hardwood.
“Night, fools,” she called, “Try not to get beat again without me.”
“Night,” Sanaa and Erik replied almost in unison, then glanced at each other. A flicker.
The hallway dimmed as Aaliyah’s door clicked shut.
Silence settled like dust.
Sanaa began collecting the cards. Her movements were unhurried, methodical. She stacked them into a neat pile and tucked the deck back in its box, then started clearing the table without being asked. Her curls bounced softly each time she turned, her hips swaying that natural rhythm she never performed for anyone—but somehow always pulled attention.
Erik remained seated, arm draped over the back of the chair, watching her in that way he had. Quiet. Focused.
Sanaa glanced up as she carried the last plate toward the sink, “Do you miss it?” she asked, “Oakland?”
Erik shifted. Sat forward slightly. His fingers tapped the edge of the table once before going still.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low, “All the time.”
She turned the faucet on but kept her eyes on him.
“I think about it more than I say,” he added, “I think about the block. The people. Dumb shit I used to get into. The air even smelled different.”
Sanaa rinsed a fork slowly, “Do you ever wanna go back?”
Erik was quiet a moment. Then shook his head.
“Not to live. I couldn’t sit still there anymore. Too many ghosts. But…” He looked toward the dark hallway where Aaliyah’s door had closed, “I swore I’d watch over her. Even if she ain’t need it. Even if she think she too grown for it.”
Sanaa smiled a little, “That’s sweet.”
He huffed under his breath, “Ain’t sweet. It’s what I owe.”
She dried her hands on a towel, turning slightly toward him, “You always been that protective?”
His eyes met hers, steady and unreadable.
“Always.” Then his gaze narrowed, the slightest tilt to his head, “Any lil niggas been treatin’ her wrong?”
Sanaa blinked, surprised, then grinned, “Not unless they stupid. She got them wrapped,” Sanaa said, laughing quietly, “They ain’t got a chance.”
Erik looked at her for a beat too long. Not in a way that asked for answers. In a way that watched. That read. Then he turned his gaze away, exhaling low.
“I’ma call it a night,” he said, standing slowly, his body unfolding like a stretch of shadow, “Been a long day.”
“Yeah,” Sanaa said softly, “Get some rest.”
She stepped forward just as he turned—and without warning, without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
It was sudden.
Not wild. Not dramatic.
Just soft. Full. Immediate.
Erik’s body stiffened for half a second, caught off guard. Then one of his hands came to her waist instinctively, palm steadying her. The contact was firm. Warm. He didn’t pull her closer, but he didn’t pull away, either. Her cheek hovered near his collarbone. Her scent—clean, faintly sweet—rose between them.
Then she let go.
No explanation. No comment.
She stepped back, her hand brushing lightly against his chest as she moved past him.
“Goodnight, E,” she said, voice like velvet. Quiet. Confident.
And then she walked away.
Bare feet. Tiny shorts. Curls dancing.
Erik stood still for a moment longer, hand still at his side where she’d touched him.
Then he left the kitchen without a word.
The air didn’t move after that. It held. Because now? There was no mistaking the tension.
Reader telling Erik "I wanna have your baby please."
Erik fucking the Reader in the mirror and telling her, "Where you going? Take this dick!"
Erik secretly buying his girl stuff from her wishlist
The reader face-riding Erik and Erik holding the reader’s hips down and overstimulating her/ Erik telling the reader “lemme dig in that pussy one time”
Erik making eye contact with the reader while fingering her on his lap and the reader can’t take it
Erik being all soft and comforting to the reader while on a flight. She’s afraid of heights.
Erik begging plus size reader to sit that phat pussy on his face while he talks all nasty about her generous curves.
Reader avoiding Erik because he got rough with her after play fighting/having intense rough sex.
Reader attempting to break up with Erik.
Reader being intimate with Erik for the first time after being in an abusive relationship.
Reader playing hard to get with Erik.
Erik is the student and reader is the professor.
Erik giving his daughter the talk about her first period because her mom (reader) is away on a business trip
Erik’s groomsmen are panicking because his fiancé is at the door when the room is full of strippers
Reader working in retail dealing with a rude customer and Erik is a regular who steps in to put the customer in their place.
Readers long time crush, Erik Stevens, knocks on her door dressed as a pizza delivery stripper and he doesn’t realize he has the wrong address until it’s too late.
Thigh riding Erik.
Erik shaves the Reader.
Erik telling you how pretty that pussy is.
Erik helping the reader with morning sickness.
Erik getting the readers hair wet after she spent all day in the salon getting it done and she flips out on him.
Reader riding the fuck out of Erik’s dick.
Erik and Reader having a one night stand that WASN’T supposed to happen.
Erik being the reader’s bully when they were kids but that changed when he sees her in later years.
Erik and reader having sex for the first time since their baby
Erik and reader broke down in the middle of nowhere
The reader finding out she is pregnant so she tries to leave but Erik finds out anyway.
Erik finding out that T’Challa or M’baku being the readers first.
Drive in movie date with Erik.
Erik walking in on the reader masturbating and she tries to cover herself with embarrassment
The reader is nervous to bring Erik to meet her family because she takes care of her mom and a sibling with special needs.
Y/N having her cochlear implants turned on and hearing Erik’s voice for the first time.
Erik is a sub and Reader is a dom PART ONE
Erik is a sub and Reader is a dom PART TWO
Erik dating a girl with an old soul.
Reader saying in the middle of an argument, “I mean, look at me! why would Erik Stevens want to be with me?!”
Fun/humor sex with Erik.
Erik Jill Scott Imagine
The reader is a best selling author and her book is about all her past lovers (Erik is one of them)
The Reader is a virgin and Erik gives her oral turning her out/Erik dry humping The Reader playfully
Erik and Reader are best friends and Reader is the best freaky love PART ONE
Erik and Reader are best friends and Reader is the best freaky love PART TWO
Erik cuddling with Reader while she is on her period/having sex with Reader while she is on her period.
Reader is a high school art teacher and she is fucking Mr. Killmonger who is a history teacher.
Reader and Erik’s honeymoon.
M’Baku and Erik have the pleasure of sharing a woman
Reader and Erik take a bae-cation after Reader has her baby. She is having breast pains from breastfeeding so Erik suggests soothing her.
Erik nurturing reader after she found a lump in her breast.
Erik and his girl have a threesome with OC
The Reader and Erik’s friends are trying to set them both up on a blind date but the catch is…they’re already dating.
Erik and Reader have a 16 year old daughter who starts being disrespectful towards them PART ONE
Erik and Reader have a 16 year old daughter who starts being disrespectful towards them PART TWO
Erik and Reader haven't had sex in a while because of Reader's insecurities
Erik is into a lot of verbal talk during sex but his girl is too shy and embarrassed to do it so she moans instead.
Erik and Reader are in a Dom/Sub relationship where everyone knows, the Reader is being bratty and Erik punishes her in front of their friends but Reader has a Voyeurism kink and that was her plan.
Erik always rubbing the readers belly, because she loves it more than she does.
Erik asking plus size Reader out on a date for the first time.
Erik calls Reader while she's at work and he hears one of her male coworkers in the background.
Dominant Erik sees his ex gf at a pool party
Erik teaching his daughter to love her dark skin.
How would Erik react to his girl twerking in front of his face to annoy him ?
It's Erik's birthday and his girl suprises him
Assassin Erik and his girl London make up for lost time
Massage Therapist Erik
Supermarket run with the kids and a guy starts talking to you and making you laugh. Your husband, Erik, finds out about it.
Erik reminiscing on the time he had some good wet pussy from a plus size baddie. Based off of Cardi B saying how fat girls have the best pussy.
Erik walks in on his homeboys sister stepping out of the shower and she is embarrassed/ has a huge crush on him PART ONE
Erik walks in on his homeboys sister stepping out of the shower and she is embarrassed/ has a huge crush on him PART TWO
Erik convinces his girl he can make her cum multiple times ONE
Erik convinces his girl he can make her cum multiple times TWO
Erik has a foot fetish
Erik's girl gets drunk and starts flirting with other men. Erik has to teach her a lesson
Erik deep-throating his girl
OC is shy and a virgin and Erik makes her his sub
The Reader is nervous to tell Erik she is bi ONE
The Reader is nervous to tell Erik she is bi TWO
Erik and his polynesian/black bestie take things to another level
Erik watches his landlords child and afterwards wants to practice making a little bundle of joy himrself with Reader
Erik has a new girl who has a baby prior to dating him and they become one big happy family.
Erik is uncircumcised and it’s the Readers first time being with a man who is uncircumcised. Erik shows her what to do/ how to please him.
Summary: He's supposed to be laying low. A job overseas went bloody, and Erik Stevens-Black Ops Mercenary, Ghost of the U.S. Government-needs to go quiet. He crashes at his little sister's place near Howard University in Chocolate City. But when he arrives, there's a surprise: she's got a roommate. Her Best Friend. She's grown since he last saw her. Grown in all the ways that test a man's self control. But Erik? He's never been good at following the rules...
Warnings: Age Gap Romance/ Forbidden Attraction/ Explicit Sexual Content (strong smut, oral sex, size kink, erotic praise, power exchange)/Slow Burn to Filthy/Obsession & Possessiveness/Sexual Tension in Shared Spaces/Mutual Voyeurism/Sexting/Emotional Denial/Resistance/Breeding Talk/Male Dom / Female Sub Dynamic
Part Five
The first thing she noticed was the absence.
Her body was sore in a way that felt stretched or even the dull ache in her belly or the thick drop of wetness cooling between her thighs. But the quiet? The stillness? The settle after everything’s been taken from an atmosphere. Her chest rose and fell. It hurt to breath deep. Hurt good.
Sanaa was laid out on her stomach. One leg bent, the other stretched towards the foot of the bed, toes sliding against the sheets that were twisted, damp, and stuck to the sweat along her thigh. Her arms lay limply beside her, fingers twitching with aftershock as she hadn’t invited. Her mouth stayed parted, lips tingling. Bitten. She didn’t remember when.
The air smelled like him.
Skin and power. Something thick and alive that still lingered around her. The room was hotter than it should’ve been. But she’d just been fucked within an inch of her life so it tracks. Her back felt too hot like it had soaked up everything he pressed into it. Sanaa didn’t want to move or want to cool down from the intensity of it.
Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. The light in her room was dim with only a sliver of street lamp bleeding in through the edge of the curtain. It was enough to trace the shape of the room. She could make out her dresser. The corner of her TV. A pile of new clothes with tags still on them that she couldn’t recall putting there. Her brain was scrambled.
And him.
Sanaa felt him before she saw him. He was still in the room. Close enough that he heat from his body radiated like a furnace.
The weight of his eyes landed first. The sharpness of his breath came next. Erik was standing behind her somewhere. Watching what he’d just ruined. Maybe deciding something. Maybe feeling nothing at all. Sanaa didn’t know and she didn’t bother to look. She kept her cheek pressed to her damp pillow, lashes low, letting him see her like this. Raw. Used. Quiet. Fucked wide open. Punished with dick.
Sanaa’s thighs were slick. She felt the slow drag of it, his cum sliding out thick and warm at first then cooler as it slipped down the curve beneath her. Her body fluttered once. Then again. Her pussy pulsed around the emptiness he left behind.
She didn’t clench or squeeze it back in. She let it leak. Let it stain the sheets. Let it remind her that he’d been there.
And then he moved.
The shift of his weight on the floor. A faint rustle of cotton as he pulled on his sweats. Not his voice. Just the drag of fabric and muscle, the silence he wore like armor. Sanaa didn’t lift her head. She could picture him. That was enough.
Shoulder-length locs falling against his cheekbones. Shoulders wide, back cut deep with muscle and those raised scars she used to wonder about until he told her each one is for a kill. Brown skin slick with sweat and the remnants of her slick. Caramel-colored under the dimness. His chest rising and falling heavy. Just as full.
Sanaa’s eyes opened enough to watch his shadow drift to the edge of the door.
Erik paused.
And in that pause, she felt everything crawl up her throat. Not words. Not regret. Something else. Something sharper and quieter that wasn’t quite ready to show its face. Sanaa didn’t say his name. She didn’t ask him to stay. She didn’t know if he would’ve anyway. Would’ve done if he had.
She just breathed.
The doo didn’t shut all the way. Just enough. Enough to tell her he was gone but not far. And the quiet wrapped itself around her again. Then, she heard it. The water. Faint at first then stronger. A burst of sound from the hallway bathroom. The shower coming on.
That was it.
Sanaa blinked again, let her body sink deeper into the mattress. One of her fingers curled, brushing lightly between her thighs just to feel. To check. He was still there. Inside her. Stretching her. Fading with every minute nut still there. Her hips shifted into a small arch. More of him slipped out. Sanaa flinched. It wasn’t from pain. It was from the reminder.
She could feel the way her skin ached in the places he held her. Her wrists. The back of her neck. The dip of her waist. Her stomach felt so sore where his abs had pressed down into her. Her chest burned, nipples, oversensitive, grazed raw against the sheets. She remembered how he gripped her thighs, how he used his strength like it wasn’t up for debate. Like if she challenged him, he’d make her eat her words. And he did. She still hadn’t touched her own face. She didn’t have the strength to anyway.
Minutes ticked past and she remained still, her muscles aching. Eventually, her eyes fell, closed again, and she let herself melt into what was left. The mess hole between her thighs, let the sound of the water pull her towards sleep. Sanaa didn’t want to know what this meant. What he meant. If he even thought about her once he walked out. If he felt her the same way she felt him.
But she knew this…
Erik didn’t kiss her goodnight. He didn’t clean her up. He didn’t stay. He gave her everything she asked for and left her to sit in it. The last thing she heard before sleep took over was the water running, and she hated how much she wished it would stop.
The Hallway
Light cut through the dark like a line he’s not supposed to cross. A harsh reality of what he’s just given and couldn’t take back. Door shut faintly behind him. The stillness. His hands flexed like they wanted to grab something. Hurt something. Hold her again.
He can still smell her on his skin.
That slick, fucked-out scent sitting right in the crease of his fingers, across his pelvis, under his nose like sue marked him without even trying. Her voice stuck in his head too. That pretty, little whine, how she begged without words, just open thighs and glazed eyes. Erik can’t go back. Won’t. Fucking refused. And he wanted to. Damn he wanted to so damn bad. If he does, if he makes that mistake again, he might go back in there and do some shit he really ain’t supposed to. Like hold her. Like kiss her. Like say some dumb shit that sound too close to feelings.
That girl got no business tasting that good. Feeling that warm and tight. Looking that pretty when she cry out for him, hands grabbing for his wrist like he the only thing keeping her from floating away.
Erik walked out that room but he left every part of his mind still tangled up in her. His presence still blooming like a JSOC ghost. He told himself it was just one-time thing. Said that when he pulled her close the first time. Said it again when he slid his fingers between her thighs in the hallway just to see if she was thinking about it too. Said it again when he whispered all that nasty shit in her ear and she ain’t flinch once.
But he knows better.
And that’s the fucking problem.
Sanaa got his ass shook. She out here teasing, talkin’ slick, laying there with her pussy wide open for him, taking all that big dick like it’s her goddamn birthright. She don’t even know how deep she got him. That’s the part that fucks with him. That’s the part that scares him.
She think she just being grown. Just being bad. Think she got it handled. But Sanaa done walked her fine lil’ ass into the crosshairs of a man who been trying to stay on the straight and narrow. Who already got too much blood on his hands. Who ain’t got no room for softness. No space for distractions. Not like this. And now? Erik can’t stop seeing her laid out in that bed, legs twitching, lips wet, skin glowing like she was made just to be ruined by him and him only.
He don’t do feelings. Not no more. Not since Oakland. Not since everything. That night he lost it all. But she got him feelin’ again, and he hates it. Not exactly love. But something worse. Something messier. Something hungry. She got him wantin’. And wanting ain’t safe. Not for her. Not for him. Because wanting can turn into something more and that more can become—
He gotta stay away from her before he fuck around and start needin’ her. Before he forgets why he ain’t supposed to. Before he slips and starts thinking she might be the only thing that ever made him feel like he could stay.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, but he don’t feel no peace. Just sweat. Stickiness. Her scent still crawling on his skin like it belonged there. He pulls his joggers down slow. And there it is.
His dick still covered in her.
Still wet with that messy mix—thick, sticky, creamy—all hers, all over him. It glistens in the low bathroom light like he ain’t just wrecked her minutes ago. His trimmed hair’s matted with her slick. Her squirt dried light against the grooves of his abs. Her taste clings to the corners of his mouth, his upper lip. His fingers are sticky. Smellin’ like she sat on his hand and rode it.
She’s everywhere.
He steps into the shower. Water hits his back hot, and he hisses through his teeth. The sting makes him lean his head forward, press one hand against the tile.
His muscles ache.
His biceps tight as hell from how he held her legs up. Lower back burning from how long he stood hunched over her. He can feel where she clawed his shoulders, dug her nails in deep when he started fucking her slow just to punish her. Scratches still raised. Every rinse down his chest just brings more of her back.
That scent. That slick.
He wipes across his mouth and it’s like her pussy still sittin’ there, throbbing on his tongue. Water don’t clean that memory.
His eyes shut. And behind them, he sees it all in flashes.
Her back arched so deep it looked unreal. That lil lip bite she do when she know he ‘bout to fuck the air out her lungs. Her mouth on him, her hand gripped at the base, the sound of her slurping, the spit dripping down. Her eyes locked on his while he held her phone and filmed it like she proud of it.
He growls low. Curses to himself. She not supposed to be his. She not supposed to be any part of him.
That’s Aaliyah’s friend.
Some twenty-two year old girl still in school. Still tryna figure shit out. Still figuring shit out, still doing too much and not enough…but she got him acting like her name the only one he wanna say. She got no business fuckin’ a man like him. Not with everything he done. Not with the life he leads. He ain’t built for no relationship. No situationship or whatever the fuck that means. He got too many ghosts. Too much blood. And too many enemies. He ain’t got the luxury to feel soft. But she don’t make him feel soft. That’s the problem. She make him feel crazy. She make him feel needed. She make him feel possessive. She got no idea how dangerous that shit is.
He presses both palms to the tile now, lets the water run down his back, over his head. Tries to breathe through it.
But all he sees is her.
Greedy ass Sanaa. Face turned toward the pillow. Mouth open. Legs trembling. Pussy leaking. Whispering his name like she ain’t ever gonna forget who had her. And that’s why he gotta stay the fuck away. Because one more night like that? And he won’t leave next time.
Steam still clings to his skin when he steps out. Water dripping from his hair. From his shoulders. From the scars carved into his chest and arms like a map of everything he survived. He grabs a towel, drags it slow over himself. Down his neck. Across his back. Over his abs where her scent still lingers no matter how much soap he used.
He dries his dick last.
It’s still heavy. Half-hard like it ain’t got the memo yet that he’s supposed to be done.
He looks up.
Fogged mirror. Blurry reflection. Just a tall, dangerous-looking man with tired eyes and too much weight on his soul. He wipes a clear patch with his palm.
Stares at himself.
Jaw clenched. Lips tight. Brows low.
You trippin’, he thinks.
Then his eyes drift.
Bathroom shelf. Her shit. All over it. Edge control. Leave-in. Curl cream. Silk bonnet folded neat. A pink razor. Hair clips. Scrunchies. Little bottles with glitter labels and fruity names. Signs of a young woman still learning herself.
Then he sees it.
Her perfume.
Small bottle. Almost empty.
He hesitates, then reaches. Unscrews it. Brings it to his nose.
Big mistake.
It’s her.
Sweet. Warm. Soft. A little wild underneath. Like her skin after he been on it too long. Like her neck when she tilts her head back for him without even thinking. Like her walk-by air that made his skin tingle.
His chest tightens. He exhales slow. Closes it. Sets it back like he didn’t just fuck himself up. Wraps the towel around his waist. Tosses his joggers in the hamper. He steps into the hallway quiet. Apartment asleep. Aaliyah’s still out.
He walks, then stops.
Her door. Closed. Slight light underneath.
He stands there longer than he should. Hand hovering. Heart beating harder than any mission ever made it beat. He cracks it slow. Careful. Like he breaking into something sacred.
Room dim. Only her lamp on low. Soft yellow glow. Bed a mess. Sheets twisted. Pillow crooked.
And her.
Knocked out.
Flat on her stomach. One leg bent. Blanket halfway off her ass. Hair damp and wild from sweat. Face relaxed. Lips parted just a little. She look peaceful, even with his cum leaking out. Like he ain’t just ruined her hours ago. Like she ain’t got his cum inside her. Like she ain’t got his name etched into her nerves now. Marked like the scars on his body. Except her marks are invisible.
He steps in, door shuts quiet behind him. Half of him wants to walk over there, spread her again, wake her up with his dick and remind her exactly who she belong to when she sleep.
Other half screaming at him to get the fuck out.
She off limits.
She deserve better than this.
She deserve better than him.
He stands there, torn. Looking at her. Thinking about how good she was for him. How she took everything. How she didn’t complain. Didn’t flinch with his dick sitting heavy on her tongue. Pull away when he arched her back. Just opened up and gave it to him like she trusted him with her body. With her softness. With her wanting. Desire. Ache. Crave.
She deserved praise. Deserved him telling her how good she did. How proud he was. How she took daddy’s dick like a champ. How pretty she was when she came. How much of a pretty, big dick taking slut she is.
But he don’t say nothing.
He walks over instead. Pulls the blanket up. Covers her shoulders. Tucks it under her chin. She don’t even stir. Out cold.
He stands there after. Just looking. Taking her in.
Her lashes. Her nose. The curve of her lips.
Even sleep got her looking fine as hell. And his dick responds immediately.
Annoying as fuck.
He chuckles low. Shakes his head.
“She got me fucked up,” he whispers to himself.
Her hair is still damp and sweaty. Clinging to her forehead. He brushes it back gently with two fingers. Erik leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. Barely there. Nothing sexual or greedy. Something quiet. Something real. Something dangerous.
Then he straightens. Turns. Walks out. Closes the door. And disappears down the hallway like he was never there at all.
The Next Morning
The water was starting to cool, but she hadn’t moved.
Bubbles clung to her thighs, floating soft against the curve of her hips, her breasts, the fine slope of her belly. One foot rested on the edge of the tub, toes pointed up, still slick with the last bit of warm suds and steam. The air was thick and heavy, clinging to her skin like a second layer. Her silk press, once bone-straight and bone-laid, had started to swell at the roots from the heat in the room, curling just slightly around her hairline where sweat had gathered and dried hours ago. She had it clipped up, lazy and messy, with a hot pink claw clip holding it in place like an afterthought.
She didn’t care.
Kehlani’s voice floated from the Bluetooth speaker on the shelf—low, pulsing, soft with a throb beneath it. “Can I” wrapped around the space like a whisper from her own mind. Everything felt slow. Too slow. It was that type of morning that felt like it happened to somebody else. This can’t be her life, right? This was a dream, right? Except her mind knew better. Except her body knew better. She let her fingers glide between her thighs, not to play, not to stroke—just to feel. Just to check.
Still tender and open.
The water moved with her. Her legs eased wider without thinking, knees drifting apart. She was sore deep. That deep kind of sore you don’t talk about. That deep kind of sore that meant you’d been handled, really handled, by someone who didn’t just fuck you, but took his time doing it. Her pussy ached. Not sharp. Just dull. Pulsing. Like it had its own heartbeat. She traced the inside of her thigh with the backs of her knuckles. Felt the sticky-slick residue that hadn’t washed away yet. His nut. Maybe hers too. She didn’t remember how many times she came. That was the part that fucked her up the most.
Her skin still had that glow. That fucked good dewiness. Her chocolate complexion warm, flushed, a little still across her chest and shoulders, even as the steam thinned and cooled. The ache in her lower belly was real. The kind of ache you wake up feeling and know right away it ain’t from sleep. She inhaled slow. Let her head fall back against the tub wall. Closed her eyes.
Erik.
His face appeared in flashes. Not even memories—just sense memories. Vivid pictures. Sharp. Undeniable. Brown eyes gone darker than she’d ever seen. Full lips parted, but not speaking. Those golds catching the light when he looked down at her. When he watched his dick disappear inside her again and again, like he was never gonna get tired of the view. His dreads brushing her collarbone when he leaned in. That quiet sound he made when she squirted on his stomach. When she soaked the sheets. The way he grunted when his dick slid in to the hilt and stayed there.
She could feel his tongue again—right now—just thinking about it. The weight of it. The swirl. The pointed flicks. The way he flattened it, slow and mean, like he had all night. And those fingers. Thick, skilled, curling just right while he whispered nastiness in her ear. The way he owned her moans. Pulled them from her like strings.
Her thighs clenched under the water.
She arched, just slightly. The smallest shift of her hips upward, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. Her body remembering. Her body craving. One hand slid beneath the surface, resting on her lower belly like she was trying to hold the memory in place. She wasn’t touching herself. Because this? This wasn’t about chasing another orgasm. This was about understanding what had happened to her. What he did to her. And what she let him do.
She opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling like it could give her answers. It couldn’t. Her stomach tensed once, involuntary. Her lips parted. She could still feel the stretch from him. The depth. The way he pulled her into position like she didn’t have a say, then watched her body fold for him like it’d been waiting. And that was the part that had her breath catching in her throat. Because she had been waiting. Not just last night.
She’d been dreaming about this since middle school.
Since the first time she’d written his name in the margins of a notebook like it meant something. Since she used to sneak looks at him when he came by to pick up Aaliyah from school. Watching him in basketball shorts. Watching him talk with that deep voice that made her stomach flip. Since she first figured out what it meant to want someone—not just like some silly crush, but the kind of wanting that twisted her up in private. The kind she used to pray wouldn’t show on her face when he asked how school was going.
She used to wonder what his mouth would feel like. What his fingers could do. How he’d sound when he moaned. She made up stories in her head about him taking her to the backseat of his car, or pulling her into his room while Aaliyah was in the shower, or grabbing her waist while pretending to move past her in the hallway.
And now? Now she knew. Now she had real memories to match every single fantasy. But that’s where the split happened. That’s where the softness ended. Because one side of her wanted to go find him right now. Climb in his lap. Rub against him like a spoiled thing. Nuzzle into his neck and ask for more. Whimper. Beg. Say Daddy, please, I need it again. I can take it this time, I swear…
But the other side of her? The side that felt the way he pulled out and walked away without saying shit?
That side sat up.
Nah.
You don’t beg him, bitch. You remind him.
You remind him that your pussy had him quiet. That your moans made him pause. That your body—this body—had him gripping your hips like he was tryna memorize the way you curved.
That you soaked the sheets and he still wasn’t ready to stop.
You don’t chase that. You lean into it.
You walk past him without flinching. You stretch slow when he’s watching. You bend over in silence and let the wetness glisten on your thighs. You give him that teasing look, don’t pull away. Own that shit.
Make him remember.
Sanaa smiled. It was small. Subtle. But it came from somewhere real.
The water whispered as she shifted. A soft slosh against porcelain. A faint ripple rolling across her thighs. The bubbles that had once sat high and fluffy were thinning now, popping slowly, leaving her skin exposed inch by inch. The warmth was fading, but she still hadn’t moved. She reached over and twisted the silver knob.
The drain opened.
A low, steady gurgle filled the tub as the water began to slip away, pulling suds and warmth with it. She watched it spiral down, foam thinning, skin rising into the air. Goosebumps followed immediately. Her toes curled. Her calves tightened. The ache between her legs sharpened for half a second as the cooler air hit her.
Her body still wasn’t done with him. Even now. Especially now. When the tub was empty, she stood carefully. Her legs protested. It was enough to remind her. Her thighs trembled faintly as she stepped onto the plush charcoal bath mat. Water streamed down her spine, along the curve of her waist, between her breasts, over her hips. Droplets clung to her skin like jewels. She moved weakly as she stood, water slipping down her back in rivulets. She didn’t grab the towel, just stepped out dripping, glistening, diamond studs in her ears, legs shaking a little as she moved. But her back was straight. Her chin up.
She was sore. She was stretched. But she’d never felt more powerful. And the next time Erik looked at her? He wasn’t just gonna remember how she sounded when she came. He was gonna feel it.
Everywhere.
Kehlani’s voice faded out, the last note stretching thin before disappearing. For a second, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the bathroom fan and her own breathing. Then the next song slid in. Ari’s voice. Soft. Familiar. Dreamy. New Apartment. Sanaa let out a slow breath through her nose.
Of course.
Her life always did that. Soundtracked her feelings like it knew before she did.
She walked straight to the mirror. The overhead light caught her reflection and stopped her in her tracks.
There she was.
Bare. Dewy. Glowing.
Her chocolate, toasty brown skin looked deeper in this light, kissed with gold where moisture still clung. Her shoulders were relaxed. Her back straight. Her posture different than it had been yesterday. More grounded. More aware. Her silk press, once pristine, had softened into something lived-in. Roots puffed slightly. Flyaways curling at her temples. A few strands escaped the hot pink claw clip, brushing her cheek. It made her look… real. Touched. Desired. Her diamond studs sparkled softly. Her heart-shaped face was flushed just enough. Lips full and slightly swollen. Eyes heavy-lidded but alert, almond-shaped and sharp, holding secrets. Thick lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Brows still sculpted even after sleep and sweat.
She leaned closer to the mirror. Turned her head. Watched how the light traced her cheekbone.
Her body…God.
Slim-thick. Hips full. Thighs toned and still faintly marked from his grip. Breasts sitting round and lifted, nipples darker from stimulation. Waist dipping in just right. Everything about her read grown. Read confident. Read dangerous in the softest way.
She placed both hands on the sink. Looked at herself. Not critically or nervously. Like she was meeting a new version.
So this is who I am now. A woman who knows what it feels like to be taken apart. And put back together wrong.
A small smile curved her lips.
She reached for the bottle of Cocoa Radiant. Popped the cap. The familiar scent rose immediately. Rich. Like childhood and womanhood meeting in the middle. She poured a generous amount into her palm, rubbed her hands together, then began.
Over her shoulders. Down her arms. Across her collarbones. Over her breasts, circling gently, feeling how sensitive she still was. Down her stomach. Around her waist. Over her hips. Between her thighs, careful but thorough. Her skin drank it in, glistening. Sanaa closed her eyes briefly as her hands slid over her legs, remembering how his had done it last night. Firmer. Rougher. Possessive. The memory made her inhale sharply.
Not now.
She wasn’t giving him this moment. This was hers. She finished oiling herself, then moved into her skincare routine. Cleanser. Warm water. Massaging in slow circles. Toner on a cotton pad, swiped gently. Serum tapped into her skin with soft fingers. Moisturizer smoothed across her face and neck. Lip balm. Everything neat. Precise. Practiced. Like she was resetting herself. Reclaiming herself.
When she was done, she padded down the hall toward her room naked and glowing, not bothered in the slightest.
Her bedroom greeted her like a lover.
Warm amber underglow slipped from beneath her low black bed frame. Satin sheets caught the light, dark and smooth like spilled ink. The blush velvet headboard stood soft and plush, dotted with subtle gold studs. Pillows layered in cream and mocha and mauve. A dusty rose throw draped lazily across the foot of the bed.
It smelled like vanilla and soft musk and brown sugar.
Comfort. Seduction. Safety.
Her oversized velvet bean bag waited in the corner like it always did, faux fur blanket tossed over it. Floating shelves above held her silk bags and locked box. Her desk glowed faintly with soft LED light. Polaroids pinned above it watched her quietly. She grabbed her robe from the back of her desk chair.
Sanaa moved to her vanity, sat, and looked at herself again in the lit mirror. And this time, she didn’t just see a girl who’d been fucked good. She saw a woman who knew exactly what that meant. She rose from the vanity and eased herself into the corner bean bag, the plush seat hugging her like a lover’s lap. The robe shifted high over her thighs as she leaned back, spreading her legs. Wide. Lazily. Her Fingers grazed her own inner thigh, eyes sliding over to her reflection in the full length mirror. Eyes dropping down to her center.
The lips of her pussy sat fuller than usual, swollen from last night. Open like she’d been cracked wide and left that way. Her slick had dried into a faint sheen, but the warmth was already returning. She could see the slight parting of her folds, the visible dip of her entrance—stretched just a little, looser than before.
Sanaa tilted her hips to look closer. A soft smile curled her mouth.
Yeah. He’d touched the bottom.
He’d reached so deep, her body still hadn’t fully closed up.
She bit her lip.
Watched a shimmer of arousal begin to gather again. Her pussy didn’t know how to behave. Just wet and remembering who bust her open. She studied her own sex like it was a painting. Warm brown. Plush. Velvet lips parted like an invitation. A glossy peek of pink at the center. Her clit still slightly hooded, but peeking out just enough to catch light. She could smell herself faintly—sweet, creamy, still kissed by Erik’s mouth and dick.
She reached down with two fingers and spread herself wider.
Her folds glistened.
That same blush glow, wet and ready again.
“You really tryna show out again, huh, girl…” she whispered to her own pussy, amused at how eager her body was.
She sank back deeper into the beanbag. One hand still resting between her legs. The other sliding behind her head. She wasn’t touching herself for pleasure. Just admiring. Appreciating the way she looked after taking a man like Erik. The way her pussy wore the memory of it. Still shaped by him. Still parted.
She could feel it.
She was marked. Opened.
And she liked it.
Loved the way it felt to be filled and emptied. Gripped and fucked. Used and kissed. She wasn’t some delicate little thing Erik broke in. She met him stroke for stroke. Now, she sat there glistening, robe riding up, thighs parted, pulse steady.
Knowing she got him addicted. Because he definitely was. That silent aura and unbothered energy won’t work for her. Knowing her pussy—this pretty, greedy, unforgettable pussy—was gonna live in his mind like a trap house.
She smiled again.
Let him pretend he got the upper hand. Let him act like he got it under control.
She knew what she carried between her legs.
And she knew…
He wasn’t ready. Not for the next time. Not for the way she’d ride him with that same quiet power. Not for the way she’d stare right in his eyes while he tried not to fall in love.
She gave her pussy one last appreciative look before letting the robe close. She stood again, hips moving with that same weightless roll. She wasn’t hiding anything.
Sanaa Brielle Carter didn’t need to beg.
She didn’t need to chase or explain herself. She had presence. And now she had experience. Sanaa rose from the beanbag, keeping her robe loose, letting it fall open just enough. No panties. No bra. Her hips rolled naturally as she walked. No exaggeration or force. She was confident. Sure of her power. Her pussy reigning power. And somewhere deep inside her, both voices finally agreed on one thing: whatever happened next with Erik? He wasn’t ready.
———
He was pacing.
The sliding glass door to the balcony was cracked just enough for Sanaa to hear him. Low voice. Focused. Serious in a way that said whatever he was handling had nothing to do with her and everything to do with how he moved when he wasn’t in her space. Shirtless. Skin glowing against the late morning light. Those locs of his brushed the tops of his shoulders when he turned, hanging thick and clean. His tattoos flexed and curved across his chest and arms with every stride, keloid scars raised and unapologetic. His black joggers sat low on his waist, loose and slouched. There was tension in the way his hand moved while he talked. A firmness in his voice that inflicted his rage.
Sanaa paused in the hallway, just out of his direct line of sight, eyes on the stretch of his back through the open glass.
His voice reached her anyway.
“Nah. I’ll handle that…”
A pause. A slow turn.
“Just send it to the burner. I’ll ping when it’s done.”
His tone had changed. It wasn’t annoyed or stressed. Just final.
That’s when she saw it. The faint crease of a dimple in his cheek. It peeked out, a ghost under that hard look on his face. Sanaa watched him tuck it away just as fast.
She stepped into the kitchen, Tue tile cooling her bare feet as she crossed to the fridge. She opened it with one hand, letting the other lazily tug her robe just enough to keep it on her shoulders but not enough to keep it closed. The cool air from the fridge hit her legs lifting goosebumps.
She bent low. Too low.
Just enough to give a full view if he happened to glance her way. Sanaa reached for a bottle of spring water, straightening slowly. She turned, placing the water in the counter beside her.
Then she reached up.
One smooth movement. Both arms extended. Her back slightly arched. Ass poked out. Robe slipping again at the neckline, exposing the soft swell of her chest. Sanaa stretched high for a small glass jar of organic sea moss gummies that Aaliyah left on one of the top cabinet shelves. She let herself ride onto the balls of her feet. Let the muscles in her legs pull tight. Her ass curved just right in that pose, robe barely covering the under cuff. Sanaa lowered herself and opened the fridge again to grab a chilled container of sliced mangos. She peeled the container open and picked up a slice and slipped it between her lips.
She dragged it slowly through her mouth, tongue flicking against the fruit before she bit. The taste was bright. Juicy. But her eyes were on him. Through the glass door, she could see it. Erik stopped pacing, phone in his hand, but he wasn’t speaking. He was watching, his eye dark and his expression unreadable. Locs brushing his face. Shoulders rising and falling from his controlled breaths.
Sanaa didn’t take her eyes off of him. She took another bit, licked her fingers.
the silence said everything.
Erik finally entered, the sliding door hissing closed behind him. His chest rose with more effort as he stepped inside.
That walk. The tightness in his jaw. The curve of his spine flexing under gold-brown skin, still damp with the sweat from his workout. Erik passed her, and even though he tried his best not to look at her, he could feel her. Smell her. Perfume mixed with the faint trace of oil that made her skin look like it was melting. Sanaa sat at the island like she ain’t just been fucked dumb hours ago. She had a freshly fucked glow. Pretty brown skin lit bronze under the kitchen lights, lips shining with fruit juice, and a mouth that tasted better than anything he could cook. He walked up to the fridge and tried to focus on anything else but her sexy ass.
“Did you tuck me in last night? I don’t remember pulling my sheets up. Especially not after being fucked numb like that.”
Erik’s fingers twitched on the fridge.
She let it sit. Then—
“Erik.”
That got him. He eased the fridge shut. Turned toward her slow.
“So you just gon’ act like last night ain’t happen?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then say something.”
Erik stepped away from the kitchen, his eyes unreadable. A look that made her straighten up without thinking.
“Act like you know what you asked for.”
Sanaa tilted her chin, didn’t back away. Erik came in close, so close that his scent hit her hard—lotion, skin, his natural musk rising off his body. That Erik smell she remembers from last night. The one still clinging to her sheets.
His voice dropped, “Next time you beg for me, you better be ready to deal with me.”
Sanaa’s lips parted. The air in the room changed.
Then she laughed. Soft. Sweet. Dangerous, “Deal with what? A killer?”
His jaw flexed.
She pushed, her voice silk and sting, “I already knew what I signed up for. Big bad Killmonger?”
That name landed heavy.
“Don’t call me that.”
She giggled again. Just a little.
“That why you left me laid out? Because I called you Killmonger when you asked me to say your name? Ain’t that who you are?”
Erik stepped in so close their chests almost touched. His voice didn’t rise but it was sharp now. Sharp like a blade you don’t see coming till it’s passed under your chin.
“You don’t know what you talkin’ ‘bout, lil’ girl.”
Sanaa’s smile tilted, slow, “Maybe not. But I know what I felt.”
His hand rose like he was about to touch her jaw, her neck—something. But it stalled midair. Hung there.
Then dropped.
Erik turned away, walking back to the fridge. He opened it like she wasn’t burning a hole in his back. He grabbed a carton of eggs, spinach, tomato, and turkey bacon.
Then the pantry.
Bagels. Avocados.
Erk looked up and Sanaa was watching him and it wasn’t coy or sweet. It was bold as fuck. She had her lips around another mango slice, tongue curling under the fruit before she sucked it down. Her legs shifted again, the robe slipping slightly higher on her thigh. She leaned forward, elbows on the island, tits pressing together under soft fabric, one hand between her thighs like she was adjusting herself.
Her voice came soft.
“Still sore,” she said. Almost casual.
He froze mid-slice.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be sittin’ like that then,” Erik muttered, not looking up.
Sanaa smiled around the mango, “I like it. Makes me remember how good it was.”
He inhaled through his nose.
“And how wrecked I was after.”
His grip tightened on the knife.
“That what we doin’ this morning?” he asked, voice low, rough like gravel, “Tryna provoke me?”
“Not tryin’,” she said, “I already did.”
He turned. Finally looked at her. That stare made her whole belly flutter. Jaw tight. That low faded temple taper showing. Locs frizzy from all that tugging and yanking she was doing when he was sucking on her pussy. Full lips glistening under the light. Dimples peeked while he frowned he but it just made him cuter. The outline of his dick not even hiding. And that expression?
Dangerous.
“You don’t know what you playin’ with,” he said.
“I do,” she said softly, leaning forward with her chin in her palm, “I’m playin’ with you, Killmonger.”
Erik stepped in closer, only a few feet between them now. Sanaa shifted her hips in her chair with a soft whimper, letting him know her pussy was still sore from him beating it up. Still full from him stretching her out. Still remembering the way he fucked her through that mattress.
“Keep pushin’,” he said, voice tighter, “You gon’ make me do somethin’ we both know I shouldn’t.”
She tilted her head. Eyes blinking slow, locked on his, “Then do it.” Her voice dropped. Deeper. More seductive, “Come remind me why I couldn’t walk straight this morning.”
He laughed once. No humor, “You really tryna pull him out this early? You want me to show up?”
She smiled with that mouth that had been all over his dick hours ago, “I want Killmonger to come out and play.”
His dick twitched.
Sanaa dragged one nail down the inside of her thigh.
“You think you got control,” he said, stepping around the island, slow like a hunt, “You think just ‘cause I filled you up and tucked you in, you can talk reckless?”
She looked up at him through those long lashes. Bit her lip, “I don’t think, Erik. I know.”
Erik grabbed the edge of the counter with both hands, arms flexed, forearms tight, “You need to watch that mouth.”
“You liked it last night.”
He stepped in close, “I like a lotta shit that ain’t good for me,” he said, voice low.
Then, Erik leaned in. He took a deep inhale right near her neck, let the scent roll through him like torture. Her skin was warm. Her thighs oiled. Thatrobe was hanging on for life. And Erik was so close to losing the little bit of control he had left. As much and as badly as he wanted to kiss her, he leaned back, his eyes still locked on hers.
“You think this a game. You think this just dick.” He shook his head, “You got no idea what you inviting.”
Sanaa held his gaze.
Then, she smiled, “I invited it the second I opened my legs. Don’t act like you didn’t RSVP.”
That broke something in him. And the look he gave her next? That wasn’t Erik. That was the man he tried to keep buried. The one who took what he wanted and dealt with the mess after. She wanted it. Erik knew right then and there he wasn’t gon’ be able to stay away. Not now. Not ever.
Erik reached for the olive oil, poured a swirl in the pan, and rolled his shoulders like he could stretch the tension out of them. His body felt too tight. Too on edge. He cracked one egg, then another. Set them off to the side. His movements told on him. The stiffness in his shoulders, the continuous flex of his jaw like he needed to bite something just to focus. He was trying to stay present. Trying not to let his mind wander back to how she’d felt last night underneath him. How her thighs had trembled around his face. How good she tasted.
He reached for the tomato, started slicing.
Then he felt it. Not a word. No warning.
Just her body slipping between his and the counter like she’d been doing it her whole life. Bare feet, bare thighs, and that damn robe tied so loose it might as well not have been on. She didn’t say shit. Sanaa ain’t even look at him. She just slid in and took over. One of her hips brushed against him, that soft little bump right against the thick rise of his dick still hard behind the fabric of his joggers. She cracked an egg in one hand, flicked the shell into the trash like she knew the kitchen better than he did.
Erik froze behind her.
His eyes dropped. Watched her fingers move with no hesitation, clean and quiet. She was fully inside his space now, body pressed close, warm and casual like it was her spot to begin with. She reached up into the cabinet, pulled down the salt, pinched it with one hand while tilting the bowl with the other. Like he wasn’t even standing there. Like she didn’t just back her ass up into him. Dragging the bubble curve of it slow across the front of his joggers, just enough to make him twitch.
He didn’t move and he couldn’t breathe right. Just stared down at her from above, that low hum of restraint turning into a full-body grip on the counter. Her ass rolled once more. Just a subtle tilt. A soft grind. Tight little circles that made the air around them feel thick and wrong and good as fuck all at once.
Then she kept going.
Started chopping the tomato he left. Took over his space like it was hers. Her fingers moved quick, practiced, and while she worked, she didn’t stop moving that body. She didn’t need to say anything. Her body did the talking. That soft, steady grind. The way her thighs pressed back against him. The way her hips rolled with slow, precise tension like she knew what he liked. Knew how to make him fight every goddamn impulse rising up in him.
And behind her, Erik just stood there.
Fighting for his fucking life.
She kept chopping like nothing was out of place. Knife moving soft over the tomato, blade tapping rhythmically against the cutting board. Her ass never stopped. She rocked it back in tight little motions, circling slow, dragging the plush curve right over the front of his joggers, like she was testing him. Like she already knew the answer. Erik didn’t move. Just gripped the counter harder, jaw locked, trying not to let that groan catch in his throat.
And then, like it was nothing—like she wasn’t working him up just to watch him lose it—Sanaa tilted her head, glanced at him over her shoulder with that pretty little smirk barely visible under her lashes, and said, low and casual…
“Daddy…why you eat my pussy like that last night?”
His breath hitched.
She turned back around, like she didn’t just drop a grenade in the middle of the kitchen. Like she didn’t just wreck his whole focus with one filthy question asked in the softest, sweetest tone he’d ever heard. She moved like she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Like her ass wasn’t grinding slow and deliberate right over the thick print of his dick, like her voice wasn’t about to destroy the last thread of his control. Her fingers stayed busy—chopping clean, precise strokes—but her mouth? That was the problem.
“I must taste good…” she said lightly, her voice dipping low, sweet like it wasn’t filth spilling out, “You couldn’t stop suckin’. Couldn’t stop lickin’ my clit, daddy.”
Erik shut his eyes for half a second, let his head fall slightly forward.
“Had me creamin’ all over your face. Drippin’. I couldn’t even stop it.”
She kept going. Like she didn’t just say that. Like she didn’t know how wet his dick was getting from the memory. Like she wasn’t trying to see what happened when she pushed a man like him too far. But she knew exactly what she was doing. That was the danger.
She scraped the chopped tomato into the pan, hips still rolling slow, back arched just enough to keep his dick pressed flush to her ass. Her voice stayed calm, casual, like she wasn’t already making him sweat.
“I got out the bath this morning…spread my legs in the mirror, lookin’ at my pussy real slow.” Her tone dripped with something smug. Soft, but nasty, “Tryna see if you stretched me with that big dick good.” She paused to stir the pan, and Erik’s breath came tighter behind her. “I couldn’t tell for sure,” she went on, twisting her wrist as she sautéed, that ass still grinding on him with each movement, “So now I wanna know if you can. You think you left a mark, daddy?”
Her voice curled around that last word like it was made to ruin him. And from the way Erik’s hands gripped the edge of the counter behind her—tight, flexed, veins raised—he was seconds from showing her just how permanent he could make it. She sat the spatula down on the counter and bent forward just a little. Giggling soft.
He couldn’t remember the last time he gripped a countertop like this.
Not in warzones. Not in bar fights. Not in hotel bathrooms with blood running down his side. But right now? With this girl bent in front of him slow twerkin’ her ass against his dick like she ain’t got a care in the world?
This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to survive.
She kept her rhythm tight. Focused. Not fast. Not bouncy. Just slow, filthy little pulses, rolling that ass over the thick print of him like she knew exactly how to make a grown man lose his grip. She bent at the waist. Elbows pressed to the counter. Ass tilted just right. Up on her tip toes because of how much taller he is. That loose robe barely clinging to her hips, threatening to slide off completely. And still, she moved. A soft grind back. Then a slow lift. Then a tiny pop, just enough to send a ripple through both cheeks before they settled heavy on his lap again. Tight. Warm. Controlled.
She wasn’t dancing. She was working him. And he felt every bit of it. The curve of her ass spread right over the ridge of his dick. His joggers did nothing to cushion the way she rubbed herself into him, soft cotton soaked where he pressed hardest. He could feel the slick building between them, that friction low and dirty. Every time her ass dropped, she dragged it with just enough weight to make him pulse harder, like she wanted to grind the nut right out of him without ever taking his pants off.
Erik’s hands flattened over the counter. He bent slightly forward, eyes low, face close to the back of her head.
“You keep movin’ like that,” he said under his breath, “I’m not gon’ be responsible for what happen next.”
She didn’t answer. Just dipped lower. Rolled her hips in a slow figure-eight. Slid one hand down her thigh like she was puttin’ on a show, dragging her fingers toward the soft dip between her legs. Her ass caught the full length of him again and he twitched behind her, teeth grit, chest rising hard.
“You forget Aaliyah live here too?” His voice was deeper now. Hot at the edge, “She come back early and see me bent over your ass, what you gon’ say?”
Still nothing from her. Just more motion.
Another roll. Another pulse. Her back arched deeper, that robe starting to slip off one shoulder. She looked over her shoulder, not speaking—just smirking. Watching him like she wanted to get caught. Like her pussy had a plan and her mouth didn’t need to help it.
“Yo little ass think this funny?” Erik growled low, breath rushing hot across her shoulder blade, “She walk in right now and see you creamin’ on my dick with your face in the stove, what then?”
That ass dropped again. Slower this time. And he felt it—slick, hot pressure grinding right over the head of his dick through his pants, her rhythm steady like she was testing his ability to not grab her. His fingers were twitching. His thighs tight. He could feel his own pulse in his dick now, so damn hard he thought he’d bust untouched.
“You keep playin’…” He trailed off, voice thick with warning but cracking with surrender.
But truth was—he didn’t even know what he was threatening no more. Because she already had him. Every time she backed it up like that, every time her hips rolled in a new, dirtier pattern, he slipped further out of logic. Out of discipline. Out of whatever weak-ass reason he had for keeping his hands to himself.
She wasn’t just twerkin’. She was fuckin’ him without fuckin’ him. Slow. Messy. Intimate. Like her body already knew him, already learned how to pull his restraint apart one tight, wet grind at a time. He was breathing through his nose like a man trying not to bite. Trying not to take. The only thing stopping him was the lock on the front door. And even that might not hold if she didn’t stop.
Erik reached back to grip the counter top behind him like he needed the support, the other hand dragging over his mouth. His eyes stayed on her, dark and low, sliding from her ass, up her spine, and then her face. Then he licked his lips slow, like the taste of her was still fresh, like it haunted him, and his voice dropped to that tone that made her belly twist.
“I laid yo lil ass out last time,” he said, voice rough like gravel, “And that’s the only time you gettin’ this dick.”
Sanaa blinked slow. One brow arched. That mouth of hers curled into a smirk so calm it had to be disrespectful. She turned. She wasn’t rushing. She wasn’t flustered. Just standing there in that soft little robe like she ain’t just soaked the memory of him into her body last night.
“See,” she said, voice low like a secret, “that’s the thing… you keep lyin’ to yourself.”
Erik snorted under his breath, shook his head like she was playin’ too much. But that smile? That slight one pulling at the corner of his mouth? That gave him away. She saw it. She knew what it meant.
“You think you special?” he asked.
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped in closer. Slower now. Her robe brushing against his leg. Her head tilted as her voice softened, turning intimate and wicked in the same breath.
“I know I’m special,” she whispered, eyes steady on his, “You still dreamin’ ‘bout how it sounded when I squirted all over that dick, huh?”
His jaw flexed. Nostrils flared. His eyes dropped before he could stop himself. Fell straight to her thighs like he needed to see the proof. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. His silence was louder than anything he could say.
She didn’t stop.
“Nah,” she said, stepping even closer, “You keep lyin’. If it was just once…why your hands still shake when I walk in the room?”
He stepped forward before she could finish the sentence. Stepped straight into her space, big body shadowing hers until they were almost nose-to-nose. His breath hit her lips. His chest brushed her robe. One more inch and she’d feel exactly what she was doing to him.
“Keep temptin’ me like that,” he said, voice so low it barely made it past his throat, “I’m not gon’ give you what you want, lil’ girl.”
Her eyes lit. Slow. Filthy. That little smirk deepened as she tilted her chin up, licking her bottom lip like she wanted to taste whatever control he had left.
“That sound like a challenge…”
Sanaa slipped away from him like smoke in the air.
One second she was standing close enough for him to feel her breath. The next, she was gliding back toward the counter like she hadn’t just had his pulse racing. She picked up her container of mango slices, moved with that quiet confidence that always made him watch even when he tried not to. She climbed back onto the high stool slow. Deliberate.
This time, she didn’t sit pretty.
She spread her legs.
One foot came up on the counter, knee bent, thigh open. The robe fell apart like it had been waiting for permission. Soft fabric sliding to the sides. No resistance. No modesty. Just bare skin. Warm. Smooth. Open to him.
Erik forgot how to breathe.
His chest stalled mid-rise. His throat went dry. His eyes locked in and refused to look away.
Her pussy was right there. Tender. Plush. Faintly swollen from the way he handled her. A soft shine to it that told him she was already wet again, already reacting to nothing but his stare.
She picked up a mango slice. Held it between her fingers. And rubbed it slow over her clit.
Back and forth.
Gentle at first. Then firmer. Letting the cold, sticky fruit drag across that sensitive spot. Juice trickling down her fingers. Down her thigh. Onto the edge of the counter.
Erik didn’t move. He just watched. Every nerve in his body lit up like somebody struck a match inside him. Sanaa kept her eyes on his the whole time. Never broke contact. Never looked down. Never hid. She bit her lip softly as her hips rolled just a little, reacting to her own touch. A quiet little breath slipped from her mouth before she could stop it.
Then she got needy. Her voice changed. Softened. Lost that teasing edge.
“Come here…” she whispered. Her fingers slowed, pressing the mango slice more deliberately now, “Please…”
Her lower lip trembled between her teeth. Not fake. Not dramatic. Just real want spilling out of her. Her eyes were glossy now. Dark. Heavy. Focused only on him.
Ain’t no woman ever had him like this. Not like this. Not with her body open and her voice soft and her pride still intact.
Erik clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. His hands curled at his sides. Veins popping in his arms from the restraint.
“I ain’t supposed to be fuckin’ you, Sanaa,” he said quietly, “And I ain’t the type of nigga to get caught up with.”
She didn’t argue or clap back. She just looked at him like she heard him and didn’t care. Like his words were weak compared to what his body was saying.
He turned away. Walked to the stove. Shut it off.
The click sounded too loud in the quiet kitchen.
He leaned forward, palms flat on the counter, head dropping between his shoulders. His back rose and fell as he exhaled through his nose. Long. Controlled. Like he was trying to breathe himself back into sanity.
It didn’t work.
He lifted his head slowly. Looked back at her. She was still open and touching herself. Watching him like he was the only man left on earth.
He licked his lips. Once.
Then he started walking. Slow. Heavy steps. Each one dragging him closer to something he swore he wasn’t gonna do.
He stopped in front of her, reached out. Took the mango slice from her fingers.
Their hands brushed.
She shivered.
He brought it to his mouth. Sucked on it slow. Letting the juice coat his tongue. Letting her taste linger on it. Letting her watch him take something she’d just had between her legs and make it his.
Then he bit down. Chewed. Deliberate. Eyes never leaving hers. Every movement said what his mouth refused to admit.
He wasn’t going nowhere.
The juice of the mango lingered on his lips, thick and sweet, soaked in the heat of her. It coated his tongue with the unmistakable taste of her pussy—ripe, needy, messy—and Erik chewed like he was trying to punish himself for liking it. For wanting more. For letting her pull him this deep without ever lifting a finger. His jaw was tight as hell. Muscles locked. Brows drawn. But his eyes never left her.
Sanaa sat with her legs still open, robe fallen from her shoulders now, bunched behind her waist like it knew it had lost the battle. She looked so damn soft, thighs glistening, mouth parted just enough to show that low, constant panting that gave her away. But even like that, with her foot propped up and her slick still wet between her thighs, she had the nerve to look powerful. In control. Chin tilted like she already knew he was past the point of no return. Like the mango was just the first stroke and now he’d be the one left begging.
Erik stepped in. Not slow this time. Not cautious. He got between her knees, big hands sliding up the insides of her thighs, and then higher, one gripping the back of her neck, the other pressing flat against the front. Not rough but firm enough that she felt it. His fingers curled at her throat, holding her still. Reminding her.
His face was inches from hers, voice low and gravel-thick. “You ‘bout to get tore the fuck up for these games you keep playin’.” His breath hit her lips as he spoke, hot, uneven, laced with a kind of tension that made her thighs twitch around his hips.
She didn’t flinch, blink, or apologize. Her mouth parted slightly, tongue wetting her bottom lip like she was inviting it.
That was it.
Erik crashed into her mouth without another word, lips smashing against hers, tongue slipping past like he owned her breath, her taste, her noise. His mouth was hot and wet and greedy, tongue sliding over hers, deep and messy, his jaw moving like he wanted to consume her from the mouth down. Lips dragged. Teeth scraped. Their breathing tangled. He didn’t let her lead. He controlled it. Held her still with both hands around her neck, body crowding her until she couldn’t do anything but open her mouth wider and take what he gave her.
The kiss didn’t slow. It got nastier.
Slicker.
Spit laced between them when he finally pulled back, their mouths swollen and glistening from the exchange. He rested his forehead against hers for just a second. Breathing through his nose. Trying to find air in a room thick with her scent.
His hands stayed tight at her neck.
“Fuck…” he growled, voice broken now, “You got me actin’ crazy over you, girl. How fuckin’ dare you…”
He looked down at her like he didn’t know if he wanted to drag her off that stool and bend her in half or drop to his knees and taste every drop she left behind.
She smiled, soft and fucked-up pretty.
Erik was about to show her what crazy really looked like.
She was breathing slower now, lips wet, mouth still parted from that kiss. Her thighs stayed open, loose from the way he held her, the warmth of his body still hovering at the edge of hers. Erik’s hand remained cupped behind her neck, thumb resting at the base of her jaw like he needed to keep her tethered there. Her gaze didn’t waver when she spoke, voice barely above a whisper, soaked in that soft, bratty need that had him spiraling.
“Can you look at my pussy?” she asked, words syrup-slow and coated in innocence that didn’t fool a damn soul, “Did you stretch it good?”
He went still. No smart-ass remark. No breathless denial. Just the crackle of silence between them and the weight of her question hitting him right in the chest.
His jaw worked once.
Then again.
His fingers tightened slightly against her skin, not squeezing, just pressing like he needed something to hold while he slid straight into the trap she set.
Erik dropped his gaze. Dragged it down her throat. Past her collarbones. Down the center of her chest where her robe lay open, soft brown skin exposed beneath. He let his eyes linger there for a moment, mouth twitching slightly at the memory of how she tasted. Then he kept going. Down her soft stomach. Past the slope of her hips.
And there it was.
That beautiful, wet, fucked-out pussy she had the audacity to sit on display for him. Glowing under the soft kitchen light. Faintly puffy from what he’d done to it. Glossed with slick and faint streaks of leftover juice from the mango. Her lips were slightly parted, still fluttering like she hadn’t come down fully, like her body was still remembering how he’d kissed it, sucked it, stroked it deep and slow while she trembled.
Erik tilted his head to the side just a little, brow drawn low, studying like a man inspecting a wound he caused and couldn’t stop thinking about. His eyes narrowed slightly, focused, dragging over every part of her pussy like it was a map and he was tracing the route back in his head. His tongue slid across his bottom lip. Slowly. Thoughtfully.
He leaned in, just a little. Bent at the waist, eyes trained right between her legs like he was reading something there. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent again, that raw, aroma that had clung to his upper lip since last night. He looked closer, inspecting every glisten, every twitch. Not just arousal—curiosity. The need to see what he’d done. If he’d changed her. If he left his mark the way she said. The way she wanted.
He tilted his head the other way. Sat in the silence. Let it stretch. The only sound was the faint hum of the fridge and her soft breathing. His hand slid from her neck down her thigh, his fingers spreading lightly against her skin, but he didn’t touch between. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded deeper, heavier, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time.
“…Yeah,” he said under it, “I stretched you good.” His fingers hovered near her folds now. Not touching. Just close enough that she could feel the warmth of him again, “But I can still do better.”
Her lips curled slow, eyes half-lidded, voice like she was purring with satisfaction when she responded.
“Oh, I know you can,” she said, soft as silk and just as dangerous.
Then, without lifting more than a finger, Sanaa slid her foot up his torso. Her toes brushed his abs, warm and gentle, dragging over the firm ridges of muscle like she was getting reacquainted with the body that had wrecked hers the night before. She moved slow, just the pad of her foot pressing against him, dragging down the centerline of his stomach until it dipped into the waistband of his joggers. She didn’t push, dig, just hovered there, right above where his dick sat heavy, thick, impossible to ignore.
Erik stood still, but his shoulders rose with the effort it took to stay there. At full height now, chest bare and gleaming under the low kitchen lights, his joggers hung low on his hips. Too low. The elastic had lost the fight some time ago, stretched from her grinding and his own heat. The print of his dick was unmistakable.
It sat high on his thigh, slanting left, long and unforgiving beneath the thin fabric. The weight of it pulled the material forward, tenting it just enough to show the thick outline of the head pushing against the seam. His length was pressed hard to his leg, full and unrelenting, a swollen line from base to tip that screamed of tension—of denial—of pressure that hadn’t been touched since she left him last night with a mess on his tongue and a war in his chest.
Sanaa dropped her eyes to it. Lingered there. Her gaze dragged like a palm stroke. No shame. No hesitation. Just watching the way he throbbed beneath his clothes, how the fabric pulsed every time he breathed too hard. Her eyes narrowed with hunger and curiosity, and she bit her lip softly—just once—before looking back up at him.
Her voice came low, airy, dipped in need, “Can I have it?”
That question slid across the room and pressed right against the base of his spine. His nostrils flared again. His tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek like he needed something to bite. He didn’t answer right away, just stared down at her with so much conflict in his eyes it made the air go still between them. Like he was calculating what it would cost him if he gave in again, and already knowing it didn’t matter.
Because she was looking at his dick like it belonged to her.
Erik hadn’t moved since she asked for it. Still stood there with that pulse pounding in his jaw, dick hard enough to ache, mind trying to split itself between self-control and the ache clawing through his gut. But she knew what she was doing. Knew how to wait him out. How to stay soft, relaxed, pretty while his body went tight with the pressure of not touching her.
She laid back slowly in the high stool, adjusting like she needed to get more comfortable. Legs falling open again. That damn robe still hanging open around her waist. She didn’t have to put on a show. Her body already knew how to make him watch. One finger slid down between her folds. She dragged it slow, glistening, then brought it to her lips and sucked the tip clean.
Her eyes stayed on his the whole time.
Then her voice came low, soft, like she was just thinking out loud.
“Kiss it for me, daddy…just once. You miss the way I taste?”
Erik’s eyes dropped before he meant them to. Jaw tightening again.
“You gon’ leave me drippin’ like this and not even clean it up?” she asked, all sugar, “That’s rude as hell.”
He still hadn’t moved. But the twitch in his jaw. The way his hand flexed at his side. That told her he was close.
Sanaa lifted her heel, pressed it behind his thigh, and gently pulled him forward, “You already down there…why don’t you open your mouth and say somethin’ nice to her.” Her voice made his dick throb. But she kept going. Knew exactly where to press, “She tight, huh?” she whispered, softer now, “Still wet from last night. You really gon’ act like you don’t wanna taste your dick on my pussy?”
Erik stepped closer. Couldn’t help it. And when he reached her knees—when her legs opened just a little more and her scent hit him again, warm and sweet and slick—he dropped his eyes.
Sanaa leaned her weight on her palms and tilted her hips forward, “C’mon…” she said, slow and dirty, “you was suckin’ on it like it was your last meal. Don’t be shy now.”
He stared. His knees bent slightly.
“You said you stretched me…” she continued, her voice now teasing, light, smug, “Prove it. Look in her face and tell her you didn’t fuck her open.”
Erik exhaled hard. His knees hit the floor.
No words. Just surrender. His hands gripped her thighs and he leaned in, face a breath away from that glistening, perfect pussy. She was soaked. Faintly pulsing. Her lips were swollen, glossy, sweet with the scent of her own need. His nose caught the mango, but underneath that—her. Warm and wet and waiting for him.
“You talk big,” she said, one hand resting in his locs now, sliding through the thick strands, “but this lil’ pussy had you moanin’ into it like a grown man beggin’.”
He didn’t argue. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t even blink.
Just leaned in closer.
“Ain’t nobody ever ate it like you, Erik,” she whispered, her voice dropping, shaking just a little from how soft it turned, “I still feel your tongue when I close my legs.” She guided him forward gently, two fingers sliding along the side of his face, “You gon’ fix that,” she said, breath hitched, “or just keep frontin’?”
He kissed her inner thigh. Then again. A little higher. He was breathing through his nose like a man being pulled underwater.
Then her last whisper sealed it.
“Put that mouth back where it belong. She miss you.”
Erik didn’t even hesitate now. He pulled her hips forward to the edge of the stool and opened her with his thumbs. Then he buried his mouth between her legs like it was the only place he’d ever belonged.
———
Erik didn’t come to play
That was the first thing she felt.
Before his mouth ever touched her, before his lips parted or his hands explored, Sanaa felt the change in his presence. The way he lowered himself, spine straight, shoulders settled, gaze locked between her thighs like his purpose lived there. His hands smoothed along the backs of her thighs first—firm and slow—thumbs easing along her skin until her legs parted on instinct. His grip stayed tight and unrelenting, holding her just open enough to see all of her. And when he looked, he didn’t rush that either. His eyes sat heavily on her pussy, watching every glisten, every twitch, every rise and fall of her breath as if got faster in anticipation.
Sanaa’s fingers moved over his hair. Threading between his thick locs. Fingertips brushing his scalp then curling on tight as his mouth dropped towards her thighs. She was trying to ground herself for what was to come.
Erik kissed the inside of her thigh first. His mouth warm and filthy. One kiss turned into two. Then three. Each drawing closer to the place she needed him the most. Then he turned and kissed her hip, then the crease of his thigh, then right beside her lips, close enough that she held her breath. Erik breathed her in, let the scent, drip, and pressure of her body rising meet his mouth on its own time.
When he finally licked her, Erik flattened his tongue wide and dragged it slow, all the way up from the bottom, collecting everything she had to give. One single, long stroke. Unbroken. And it made her flinch. Gasp. Her hips lifted, and Erik followed, stayed connected, matching the pace of her rising need with steady pressure.
Sanaa’s eyes opened wide, her lips parted, and the sound she let out was angelic and wet around the edges.
He just went right back in.
That same thick, dragging motion of his tongue made her pretty toes curl. Then he changed it. His lips sealed around her pussy, his tongue flicking faster, tighter, more greedy. Erik alternated between sucking gently and teasing with light circles that made her hips roll. Sanaa started grinding against his mouth in slow, uneven pulses body chasing everything wet, stroke of his thick tongue. When Erik zeroed in on her clit, he didn’t test, he applied pressure. First with the flat of his tongue moving side to side, then with the tip tracing small movements so precise they made her moan his name.
Sanaa’s voice came faint and shaky wrapped in a tremble that betrayed how close she already was, “Ohhhh…this your favorite, huh? This little pussy right here?”
Sanaa looked down at him when she said it. Met his eyes. Her hips never stopped moving. He growled into her. A deep rumble that vibrated through her clit and made her jerk. Erik sucked once, just once, and it made her cry out, thighs locking around his head. She pulled him tighter, grinding with a breathless moan.
“Oohh, you tryna break me?” she said through a twisted smirk, legs shaking already, “Mmm…you tryna make me cry?”
That’s when he slid his arm beneath her leg. Locked her in. No wiggle room. His other hand spread her wider, fingers pressing just enough to keep her stretched open while his tongue got messier, wetter, more focused.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he said, voice low and final.
Then he found the rhythm. That devastating rhythm.
Same lick. Same pressure. Right on that clit. Erik stayed there, mouth working in tandem with the grip of her body, dragging her closer to the edge with every pass. Sanaa’s face twisted. Her chest rose faster. Her thighs trembled. And when she clenched around nothing, just trying to survive the drag of his tongue he gave her something else. Erik slipped a finger in. Then two. He curled them just enough to reach that spot he already knew by heart. He stayed on her clit while his fingers pumped her deep. Sanaa’s hand was back in his locs now, tighter. She rocked her hips into his fine ass face, moaning out as her stomach started to fold inward.
“Ohhh, you like that, daddy? You like when I squeeze like that?”
Sanaa pulsed on his fingers. Did it again on purpose. Her whole body flinched. Erik moaned into her, the sound soaked and raw against her pussy, and it made her eyes shut tight.
Then he spoke again, “Keep archin’ like that. Let me see it jump.”
And it did. Her clit jumped under his tongue, her body reacting on instinct, hips lifting, voice rising. She tried to hold on, but Erik didn’t let her. Erik stayed there. Deep in her. Groaning through his teeth while his mouth and hands ruined her. Sanaa’s hips bucked. Her head dropped. She blinked fast like she couldn’t see straight anymore.
She knew she was close.
She needed to look.
“Look at me,” he said.
Sanaa forced her eyes open. That’s what broke her. Erik’s face was soaked. His mouth still full of pussy and his eyes fixed on hers while his tongue kept working like he could do this for hours. Her pussy answered every move. Wet. Fluttering. Loud. The sounds filled the kitchen. Slurps. Sucks. Kisses. Erik had her pussy talking on his tongue. His lips. The slick smack of his lips sealing and releasing. Sanaa’s breath turned ragged. Low moans slipped out without permission.
“Mmm…fuck…”
Her voice cracked on it.
Sanaa grabbed Erik’s locs harder, fingers curling tightly at his scalp, using them to guide him. Pulling him closer. Pushing his head where she wanted. Tilting him when she needed more pressure.
“Yeah…right there,” she whispered, breathy and thick. “Stay right there.”
Erik groaned into her. Deep. Vibrating. The sound rolled straight through her clit and made her gasp. His tongue plunged deeper now. Curling. Pressing. Sliding inside her. Erik tongue-fucked her wet hole like he meant to replace his dick with his mouth. Sanaa’s legs shook. Her stomach clenched.
“Ohhh…you nasty,” she breathed, eyes heavy, lips parted, “You love this pussy, huh?”
Erik lifted his head just enough to speak. Lips dripping. Beard shining. Pupils blown wide from lust.
“Shit addictive,” he said quietly, “Got me fucked up.”
Then he went back in. Harder. Messier. Erik sucked her slit deep into his mouth and held it there, his tongue flicking underneath while his lips stayed sealed. The suction made Sanaa cry out sharp, her toes curling hard against his shoulders.
“Ayy…ayy…slow down,” she gasped, even while pulling him closer. “You tryna kill me—FUCK.”
He answered by slurping her louder. Dragging his tongue slow again.
Schluuuck. Schluuuck. Schluuuck.
Each stroke heavier than the last. Each one wetter. His hand slid off her thigh and dipped into his joggers, fingers wrapping around his thick shaft. He groined when he touched himself, his hips rocking just a little as he stroked slow, steady, desperate.
Sanaa noticed. Her eyes dropped. Caught the movement.
Her smile turned wicked, “You strokin’ while you eat me?” she whispered, “That’s how bad you need it?”
Erik nodded against her. Just sucked harder. She tugged his locs again, guiding him up, then down, grinding her pussy on his mouth.
“Yeah…take it,” she whispered, “Use that long tongue. Don’t be scared.”
Erik growled. Then, he added his fingers again. Two. Thick. Sliding inside her while his mouth stayed locked on her clit. Curling upward. Finding that spot. Pressing. Holding.
Her whole body snapped. Her back arched off the stool. Her head fell back. A broken sound tore out of her throat.
“Fuck…Erik…that shit right there…” Her voice turned shaky. Needy. Soft and filthy, “Don’t stop,” she breathed, “Please…don’t stop.”
He pumped his fingers deeper. Tongue moving faster now.
Figure eights.
Tight circles.
Deep sucks.
Messy kisses.
Her pussy sounded obscene. Wet. Open. Greedy.
Every stroke echoed. Every slurp rang. Sanaa’s breathing turned frantic. Her nipples stayed pinched between her fingers. Her thighs trembled in his hands. She leaned forward, looking down at him again. She needed to see. She needed to watch how he was doing that. Erik’s mouth buried. Jaw flexing. His eyes hazy like he was drunk off her taste. His dimples flashing when he moaned. That caramel skin slick with sweat. Seeing his golds whenever his lips parted had her stuffing more pussy in his mouth.
“You so fine when you eat me,” she whispered, “Got me feelin’ spoiled.”
He looked up. Did not stop, “You taste too good,” he said rough, “Got me weak.”
Her grip tightened. She rocked harder. Controlled him. Used him.
“Yeah,” she whispered, “That’s it. Let me ride that mouth.”
Her orgasm built fast. Hot. Sharp. Overwhelming.
Her stomach pulled inward. Her legs started shaking. Her breath fractured.
“Ohhh…uhhh…unhhh…I’m close… I’m so close…”
He groaned again. Fingers curling. Tongue pressing. Suction tightening.
“Let that shit go,” he said low.
That was all.
Sanaa’s body seized, her thighs clamped around his head, and her toes curled hard. Her voice broke. She cried out his name loud, shaking, cumming so hard her vision blurred. Erik stayed on that pussy. He licked her through it. Sucked her. Caught every pulse. Every tremor. Every aftershock. When she finally slumped forward, breathless and weak, Erik pulled back. His mouth was soaked, his hand still gripping himself. He stood and leaned in close. He kisssd her thigh. Then her stomach. Then her lips.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
She smiled lazy, “Do I look good?”
Sanaa’s robe clung to one shoulder, slipping further with each shallow breath she took while the other side has fallen completely off, bunched at her elbow. The hot pink claw clip in her hair was crooked and loose, half her sweated-out hair puffed put, the rest damp and sticking to her temples. Her body glistened—neck, chest, the line between her breasts—all slick with sweat and oil like she’d been kissed too long and licked too good.
Erik stood between her shaky legs with his joggers low and that heavy dick hanging over the waistband of his joggers, glistening at the tip. Without a word, Erik leaned in and kissed her. All tongue. He dragged his tongue across hers with weight, letting her taste the mix of herself and the mango slices they’d barely touched. His hands stayed locked beneath her knees, palms pressing into the backs of her thighs, pulling them wider as he kissed her deeper.
When Erik finally pulled back, his lips were glossy too. He licked them once and squinted at her like he was trying to decide something. His voice can in low and raspy, still thick with the flavor of her pussy. Tongue buzzing for more.
“Wait. You talk to Aaliyah? When she say she comin’ back?”
Sanaa blinked slow; dreamy, her lashes damp at the tips. Her voice was airy; worn down from moaning and grinding on his tongue, “She did-didn’t say anything exact time. J-Just she’ll be back today.”
Erik looked down at her again, dick still in his hand, still slick. Erik gave it two strokes slow, dragging the tip against her inner thigh just to watch her twitch.
“You got me down bad,” he said, voice lazy, jaw flexing once, “Strokin’ my dick and eatin’ your pussy right here on this stool. You proud of that?”
Sanaa let her tongue touch the corner of her mouth before answering, “Real proud.”
“You so wet I felt it drip down my chin,” he spoke, “Thought you was tryin’ drown me.”
“You ain’t stop.”
“Cause you kept rollin’ that pussy on my face like you was tryna break my jaw.”
“You like that shit.”
He leaned in close again, mouth barely brushing hers, hand still wrapped around his dick, “I like how you taste. That’s what kept me there.”
Sanaa’s lips brushed his, breath sweet from the mango she’d bitten into earlier, “You kissed me so I wouldn’t forget.”
He smiled at that. One of them deep, sharp ones that didn’t reach his eyes, “Nah. I kissed you so you’d remember what you got me doin’. I’m supposed to be chillin’, layin’ low, and now I’m in this kitchen damn near ready to fuck you on this stool.”
“You the one that got on your knees. I was gonna sit and eat my mangos.” Sanaa tilted her hips forward a little, catching the drag of his dick against her folds. Her voice came quieter, more teasing, “Felt like your tongue was tryin’ reach my throat.”
“That pussy got a grip on me,” he said low, “I was in here mindin’ my business, tryna eat. Soon as you walked out like that, sittin’ pretty on that stool, I knew it was over.”
“You the one who walked up on me,” she whispered.
He groaned through his teeth, grip tightening behind her knees, “That pussy got a grip on me. Soon as I walked in and saw that robe hangin’ off you, it was over.”
“You said you wasn’t gone do nothin’. You said you was chillin’.”
“I was lyin’.”
Sanaa smiled, but it didn’t last. Erik pulled her closer to the edge, hooking her knees higher on his forearms now, nudging the head of his dick against her again. Sanaa was throbbing, legs already loose and that pussy slick from his tongue and her own need. Erik stared between them like he was thinkin’ hard about a decision he already made.
“Say you want it.”
Sanaa looked at him, lips parted, breath shaky, “You see me beggin’?”
“I hear you breathin’ like you need somethin’ back in you.”
“Then put it in.”
“You gone take it like that? No hands?”
“I’ll take it how you give it.”
Erik pulled her off the stool by her thighs. Sanaa gasped as her back hit the cold counter behind her and her legs stayed wrapped around his waist. He leaned in and kissed her again, messier this time. Teeth and tongue and soft grunts as his dick slid between her folds, slick and hard, pressing for entrance.
“If I fuck you right here,” he said against her lips, “you gone keep quiet?”
“Only if you make me.”
She hadn’t heard the lock. All she heard was the jingle—then the click.
The front door creaked open.
They jumped.
Sanaa spun away from him so fast she nearly knocked the water bottle off the counter. Erik moved in the opposite direction, stepping back like his palm wasn’t just cupped over her pussy. He ran a hand down his face, the other tugging his joggers up, and disappeared into the hallway. Sanaa heard the quiet creak of his bedroom door shutting. Sanaa straightened her robe, lips still wet from Erik’s spit, heart pounding from the sheer adrenaline of being caught almost. Keys clinked as they hit the entry table. Heeled boots tapped over the threshold.
She turned and saw Aaliyah.
Her girl looked bomb but tired. Curls pinned up, a few wisps slipping loose around her face in that effortless way that always made her look ethereal. She was still in her going-out-dress—long-sleeved, form-fitting, with an open back that dipped low. Her leather jacket hung off one shoulder like it’d been carried not worn. And those heeled boots? They clicked across the floor like punctuation marks to a night she clearly wanted to end hours ago. Sanaa didn’t kiss the puffy eyes. The way Aaliyah didn’t speak right away. Just dropped her bag harder than necessary.
“Hey, boo,” Sanaa called out gently, voice lifting like she hadn’t just been plotting how to get fucked again by her best friend’s brother five seconds ago, “How was your date?”
Aaliyah didn’t answer. Just walked past the kitchen like she didn’t see her.
But Sanaa saw everything.
The tight grip she had on her own phone. The silence.
“Hey.” Sanaa moved around the island, robe fluttering around her thighs, “Liyah, what happened?”
Still no answer.
Aaliyah headed down the hallway, fast, head low, her body language screamed don’t ask me anything which of course meant Sanaa followed. By the time they reached Aaliyah’s bedroom door, Erik’s door swung open.
He was in a white tee now. Scars and tattoos still peeking beneath his sleeves. His locs hung around his face and his expression was no longer just focused. It was protective. His eyes cut straight to his little sister.
“You straight?” His voice came low, direct.
Aaliyah didn’t even pause, “Mhm.”
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t clarify. Just kept walking.
Erik stepped forward. His jaw ticked once.
“Yo. What happened—?”
Sanaa reached out, touched his forearm lightly.
“Let me talk to her,” she said, quiet but firm.
His eyes flicked down to where her fingers rested against his skin. He didn’t move right away. Then, he exhaled through his nose, pulled back, and ran his hand over his face again. He walks off without another word, disappearing back into his room with the kind of tension that made it clear he wasn’t done, just paused.
Sanaa turned back to Aaliyah.
The bedroom door was left open. She stepped inside and closed it gently behind her, leaving the heat of Erik’s eyes behind but carrying the weight of both of them into the room with her. She slid onto Aaliyah’s desk chair, the leather cooling beneath her thighs. She shifted once, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them just as fast. Her body still remembering the way Erik had dropped to his knees in the kitchen and ate her up like a ginger he didn’t trust with words. And now she had to act like none of that happened. Like she hadn’t been up against the counter moaning while her best friend’s brother tongued her through an orgasm she was still mentally recovering from.
Focus.
Sanaa sat up straighter.
Aaliyah peeled off her dress in the silence. Slid the sleeves down, letting the fabric pool around her ankles before she stepped out and grabbed a folded pair of grey sweats and an oversized Howard University tee. She took her jewelry off. Just comfy and irritated. She didn’t say anything at first. She pulled her hair loose from its pins, letting the curls fall where they wanted, then crawled onto the bed and flopped onto her stomach like the night had physically bruised her ego.
Sanaa waited. She knew that flop. Knew when her girl needed space. And when the rant was coming.
Aaliyah turned her face into the comforter.
Then groaned.
“I’m so fucking annoyed.”
Sanaa smirked, “I clocked that the second you walked in.”
Aaliyah rolled over onto her back, one arm tossed over her forehead, “It’s not even like he did anything wild wild. It’s just…ugh. I shouldn’t have even gone.”
Sanaa leaned her cheek against her fist, “Wanna talk about it or should I just pass judgment blindly?”
Aaliyah sighed loud, “Girl. Okay.” And then it all poured out, “I sat through a whole date listening to this man talk about his podcast. Not like, mention it once. No. He gave a fucking episode breakdown. Talked about his ‘branding,’ his ‘audience growth,’ and how he’s tryna build a studio in his crib. I swear I asked him how his day was, and got a TED talk.”
Sanaa snorted.
“He ain’t ask me a single question. Not one. I’m sitting there asking him about his projects, acting engaged, being supportive, carrying the conversation like a mule, and the most I got back was, ‘That’s dope, you hella smart.’ Like—sir. What does that even mean?!”
Sanaa leaned back in the chair, “Lazy-ass compliment.”
“Exactly.” Aaliyah sat up now, animated, “And then—then—I finally bring up my fellowship. You know, the one I’m starting next fucking week, and this man looks me dead in the face and says, ‘Damn, that sound like a lot. You sure you ain’t doing too much?’”
Sanaa blinked, “Oh.”
“Oh.”
Sanaa squinted, “Like…he really said that?”
“Deadass.” Aaliyah’s voice pitched up, “‘You doing a lot.’ Like I’m supposed to dim myself so he can feel big. Like my whole ass life is just background music for his weak-ass ambitions.”
“That’s so—” Sanaa couldn’t even finish it. “That’s wild. He’s such a lame ass nigga.”
“And the worst part?” Aaliyah laid back again, eyes on the ceiling. Voice flat now, “I still fucked him.”
Sanaa’s mouth twitched. “Wait—”
“Because I was already there. Because I was hoping maybe the dick would balance it out. Maybe he wasn’t deep, but he’d be good for something. Girl.”
Sanaa just waited.
Aaliyah groaned into her hands, “It was trash. Like—trash. Lazy strokes. No rhythm. No attention to detail. He came in like four minutes, didn’t even try to get me off, and then had the nerve to say, ‘Damn, you tight. I missed this.’ I’m sitting there like, nigga, did you? Because the dick said otherwise.”
Sanaa cracked up. Covered her mouth but couldn’t help it.
“I wasted a dress. I wasted coochie. I shaved, Sanaa. I shaved for that man.”
“Girl…”
“I should’ve stayed my ass home and finished my reading for SisterSong. At least that would’ve fed my mind.”
Sanaa nodded, legs uncrossing again. She was trying not to squirm in the chair.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “You didn’t deserve that. Too good for this shit.”
“I know I didn’t.” Aaliyah exhaled, “And now I’m irritated, I’m sore, I got nothing to show for it but a weak-ass orgasm that I gave myself when he rolled over.”
Sanaa grimaced, “Oooh. That’s dark.”
“It’s real.” Aaliyah turned to face her now, “You ever have those moments where you just be like, I should’ve chosen myself tonight? Like, truly. Fully. Just stayed home, lit your incense, ordered good food, and protected your energy?”
Sanaa swallowed, “Yeah,” she said, “I know that feeling.”
And she did.
She just wasn’t about to tell Aaliyah that choosing herself had looked like letting her brother eat her out in the kitchen like she was his last meal not even five minutes ago before she walked in.
She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, “You blocked him?”
“Oh, immediately,” Aaliyah said, “He texted ‘you home safe?’ and I deleted the whole thread. I need energy right now. I need passion, not podcasts. Not failing rap careers. I’m tryna build, not babysit.”
Sanaa smiled, “That’s a bar.”
“I’m for real.”
“I know you are. And you’re right.”
They sat in silence for a beat. Aaliyah curled deeper into her comforter, rubbing her temples.
“I think I’m just tired of giving people the benefit of the doubt,” she spoke, “Like…I’ve worked too hard for this. I want a partner, not a fucking follower.”
Sanaa nodded again, slower this time. Voice softer.
“You will have that. For real. You got too much vision not to attract somebody with their own.”
Aaliyah didn’t respond at first. Then she smiled, eyes still closed.
“Thanks, Bri.”
Sanaa stood and stretched, arms rising high, fingers lacing about her head. Her robe shifted again, brushing open along her thigh. She adjusted it lazily, not really caring whether it stayed closed or not.
“Alright,” she said through a soft yawn, mostly to shift the energy, “Lemme go drink my water before I turn into a raisin. Go wash that nigga off and get you some rest, bitch.”
Aaliyah smirked, still wrapped in her comforter burrito, one foot sticking out at the edge, “Bring me a ginger ale if you feel generous.”
Sanaa leaned down and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a soft squeeze. Aaliyah melted into it.
“Love you,” Sanaa mumbled into her hair.
“Love you back, Bri.”
Sanaa kissed the side of her temple and turned towards the door. She slipped out, closing it gently behind her. The hallway air hit different. It was cooler. Still but heavy like it had been waiting on her. Sanaa paused to adjust her robe again and gather her composure.
That’s when she heard Aaliyah’s voice behind the door.
“Bri?”
Sanaa turned, still walking slow down the hall, “Huh?”
The bedroom door cracked open just a little. Aaliyah’s face peeked out, her lips perused like she already knew what she was about to say was petty.
“You alright?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe, “You walking like somebody rearranged your spine.”
Sanaa laughed, trying to wave her off, “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” Aaliyah tilted her head, “Why you walking like that? And hold up…” She squinted, eyes zeroing in on Sanaa’s head like a laser, “Girl, is your hair…?”
Sanaa paused mid-step.
Aaliyah stepped out just a little more, arms folded, “Nah. Don’t try to tuck it behind your ear now. I know that ain’t the same silk press you had yesterday.”
Sanaa smoothed her hair quickly but it was no use. The roots were thick with humidity, edges no longer laid, ends curling in that telltale way that only meant one thing. Sweat. Lots of it.
“Your shit puffed up like you ran track in the rain.”
Sanaa blinked, her lips parted in protest but she had nothing. Just laughter bubbling up from her throat.
“I knew it,” Aaliyah said, hands on her hips now, grinning hard, “Somebody been in your guts. Nathan snuck up in here, huh?”
Sanaa doubled over laughing, “Girl, shut the hell up. Ain’t nobody been in my nothing.”
“Mmhmm. You walked outta here with your hair laid like a fresh press. Now look at you. You got kitchen curls and a crook in your back.”
“I do not have a crook in my back.”
“Okay. So you just woke up swollen, sore, and sweating through your roots?”
Sanaa backed up, still laughing, trying to end it, “Bye.”
“You nasty,” Aaliyah said behind her, voice teasing, “You ain’t even slick. Talking ‘bout Nathan ain’t come over…”
“He didn’t!” Sanaa called over her shoulder.
“That’s the story you sticking to?” Aaliyah shouted from the doorway, “Cause your walk saying different.”
“Let me live!”
Sanaa was still laughing when she disappeared around the corner, tugging her robe tighter and wiping under her eyes. Then, Erik stepped out of his room.
White tee on, shoulders broad and tight, gold slugs peeking when he licked his bottom lip. He looked down the hall into Aaliyah’s room.
Aaliyah met his stare with a squint.
“You been standing there the whole time?” she asked.
He didn’t answer that. Instead, he said, “I know where that nigga Jordan stay.”
Aaliyah groaned, “Oh my God—”
“I’m not gon’ pull up or nothing,” Erik said, voice calm like he wasn’t already halfway planning it, “But if you give me the word, I’ll rearrange his teeth.”
Aaliyah folded her arms and leaned in her doorway, a lazy smirk creeping across her face.
“I don’t need a hitman,” she said, “I need a ginger ale and my peace back.”
Erik gave a single nod, “He say something reckless to you?”
“He said a lot of things. None of it worth the gas it took to get there.”
Erik stared at her a beat longer.
Then, “I ain’t like him anyway.”
“You don’t like anybody, N’Jadaka!”
“That’s because most of ‘em ain’t good enough.”
She shook her head, finally cracking a real smile.
“You gon’ be real annoying when I do find somebody, huh?”
“I’m already annoying.”
They both laughed.
Then Aaliyah nodded once, gently, “I’m good, big head. For real.”
Erik gave her one more long, silent look, then turned back down the hall. Aaliyah watched him walk off, then shut her door softly.
———
Sanaa saw Erik again the next morning, just a few feet away, in the kitchen again. The same one where she damn near lost consciousness on his tongue. Erik stood in front of the open fridge in a sleeveless tee, biceps flexing as he reached for the oat milk, joggers riding low, waistband slung under that sharp line of his stomach.
Sanaa stood frozen by the sink with her glass half full, trying to act normal.
She couldn’t sit too long on the sofa without adjusting. Couldn’t fold her legs without feeling the way he bent her in half. Her clit? Still twitching from the memory of how he zeroed in on it like it as his favorite spot in the world. Every time he passed her whether it was the kitchen, the hall, the bathroom, Sanaa felt it again. A tightness in her core, fullness that wasn’t quite there but still pulsing.
She dressed a little more revealing now. Just a little. Tops with a lower scoop snug enough to frame her cleavage just right—round, though and barely restrained. Sometimes no bra, nipples pressing faint outlines against thin cotton like they had something to say. The shorts? Cheeky. Cut so that the under-cuff of her ass peeked out when she walked or leaned forward just a little. When Aaliyah was around, Sanaa threw on an oversized cardigan or hoodie, pretending it was just for comfort. But the moment her bestie left the room? That cardigan or hoodie came off like she was breaking free. Erik would see it all. The cleavage looking like two glazed chocolate donuts. The nipples defined and peeling. The bottom of that bubble booty when she walked bow legged. Lips always glossy. Even when she wasn’t going anywhere.
Sanaa told herself it was for her but deep down it was all for him. She wanted to break his concentration. She wanted him to feel what she felt. That pull. That ache. That slow, tight twist of wanting someone you weren’t supposed to touch but already did. At night, she slept in the hoodie she stole from his room. It was thick, warm cotton that smelled just like him. Skin and weed and whatever cologne he used for that particular day. She’d turn her face into the collar, breathing it all in, rubbing her thighs together, squealing, her fingers itching to touch herself but not finish. She didn’t want to cum unless it was from him.
Erik watched Sanaa different too. Thought she didn’t notice but she did. Always did. Like she was calculating something. Watching her move from the sofa, to the counter, to the hallway, to her bedroom, to the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She felt his eyes on her even when her back was turned. Especially then. Erik lingered in doorways longer. Took his time lighting his blunt out on the balcony when she was in the kitchen, the smoke curling while he listened to her on the phone with one of her girls, laughing low and raspy. That laugh made him bite his lip and clench his jaw. Every single time.
She wasn’t being obvious with the shit but she wasn’t hiding it either. When he walked in after her, the bathroom full of steam and that post-shower scent hanging in the air—coconut and something else—Erik would stand there, letting his eyes drop to the towel hanging behind the door. Or the new pile of dirty clothes that shedded from her skin. Wondering how she smelled from a long day.
At night, Erik laid in bed hard as hell. One arm behind his head, the other wrapped around his dick, stroking it with a lazy pull, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He’d picture her riding him—looking down at him with that lip caught between her teeth and her eyes drunk off the way his dick felt sliding in and out of her lil’ frame with that creamy pussy. How high and needy her voice got when he stroked her. He’d stroke to the image of her gripping his arm, back arched deep, that little whimper she made when she got too full of big dick in that tight little pussy.
But he always stopped before he came.
It didn’t feel right if it wasn’t her. Wouldn’t feel good enough unless her fingers were the ones doing it. Unless her mouth was wrapped around him. Unless it was her hips grinding down, her nails clawing into his chest. Erik wanted her again. Bad. But he had to act normal. Play it cool. Because his sister was around. Because it was wrong. Because he was supposed to be the one in control. And she kept looking at him like she wanted to be ruined all over that gahdamn apartment. That look? That look was gon’ fuck around and get her pinned to the wall.
Act normal.
He said it to himself every time she walked by. But his eyes always followed her. His hands always twitched. His dick never stayed soft for long. Sanaa didn’t even have to speak it was her presence alone.
He already knew.
She was thinking about it too.
The sun had just dipped past the horizon that settled over Chocolate City when Erik unlocked the door and stepped back into the apartment, the scent of grilled food and spice trailing behind him. He needed the fresh air. Needed to get the fuck out of that cramped, sexually-charged space where his sister moved freely and Sanaa floated around like temptation in brown skin.
He wore it casual—black graphic tee hanging loose over his frame, cargo pants slouched just right over his Jordan 4s. His locs were pulled back low, neat and thick, a few strands left loose to frame his face. He wore a gold cuban link chain that sat heat around his neck. His watch caught the light from the kitchen as he moved, onyx stuffed flinging in both ears. Even relaxed, he looked like a threat. It wasn’t the kind you run from. It was the kind you run towards even when you know better.
The bag of leftovers swung from his grip as he kicked the doo closer behind him and secured it. He made a beeline for the kitchen. He sat the bag down, pulled it apart, and started pulling boxes out one by one. The seafood jambalaya, sweet potato cornbread, and smoked cabbage. Tucked between the napkins and sauce packets was something folded. Small. A slip of torn receipt paper.
Erik paused. Picked it up.
Unfolded.
A phone number. A name with a heart drawn next to it.
Kim. He shook his head, tongue clicking low in his mouth. Cute girl. Pretty smile. But she wasn’t who he wanted.
Erik crushed the paper in his palm and dropped it into the trash. Didn’t even think twice. He grabbed a water from the fridge, cracked the cap, and made his way down the hall—shoulders wide, gait slow. His body was tired, worked up from walking through D.C air and that tight coil of tension he couldn’t shake. Tension that started and ended with her.
And then he saw it.
That fine ass girl.
Door cracked.
Sanaa was curled up in bed, propped against a pillow, glasses sliding low on her nose as she bit the end of her pen, bare legs pulled up. His hoodie hanging off her small frame like it belonged there.
He slowed his pace.
Stared.
Her hair was slicked into a low bun, edges laid and perfect. Silver hoops caught the light, framing her face. Her toes—painted white—rested atop the covers, ankle beads shifting a little. Her fingers—french tipped and delicate—flipped the page of a textbook.
Sanaa looked up.
And froze.
The tension hit like a silent alarm. Her breath stalled. She drank him in from the fresh line-up hugging his jaw to the thickness of his arms wearing that tee. The way the cargo pants sat on his hips. That thick chain solid and heavy, moving when he sipped from the bottle of water on his hand. The way he looked at her like he didn’t give a fuck about right or wrong.
She licked her lips. Forgot to look away.
His eyes flicked from her glasses to her thighs to that damn hoodie she was swimming in.
His hoodie.
He didn’t say shit.
Just took a step closer.
Electric. Full of everything they couldn’t say. The memory of her spread on that chair. His face buried between. Her hands pulling his hair while she cried his name and spilled on his tongue. He knew what her skin tasted like. She knew how his hands felt gripping the back of her thighs. Now, they had to act normal. And normal looked like silence stretching between a cracked door and a hallway shadow. Normal looked like his dick pressing against the inside of his cargos and her legs running together.
“Hey,” she said finally, voice low, a little breathless.
“Hey,” he replied, still staring.
And then, he kept walking like it didn’t kill him to do it. Ignoring that part of him that wanted to turn back, push that door open wider, and climb into that bed she was laying in. She watched his shadow disappear down the hall. Sanaa’s chest rose, heart thumping, pulse thick between her thighs.
By the time Erik stepped out of his room again, he’d changed into something looser. A white tank, grey jersey shorts slung low on his hips, and that thick chain still resting against his chest. The tension in his shoulders was still there so he grabbed the small wooden box form the top drawer of his dresser—the one Miss Marva gifted him—and took it out to the balcony.
Lamb’s Bread.
Bright. Sticky. Smells like sunshine and soil. No crossbred, over processed American strain. This was the real ting. Pure from the yard. Rasta-grade. Miss Marva handed it to him with a little smile last time she blessed his roots and oiled his scalp, “just somethin’ to center your spirit, baby boy.” She’d said in a thick Trinidadian lilt, her hands fast but gentle, “You been tense lately. I can feel it in the way your hair growin’.”
Erik smiled at the memory, settled down on the lounge chair, and cracked open the box. The bud glistened under the string lights wrapped around the balcony railing. Bright green and dense, singing with citrus and something sweeter underneath. He plucked off a nug, broke it down with his grinder like it was a meditation. A moment to realign.
The blunt lit easily. A smooth pull. It hit his chest like clarity. Erik leaned back, lips wrapped around the tip, his eyes half-lidded as smoke pushed from his nostrils and curled up into the late-night air. The city below moved with a distant, low motion enough to remind you it was alive. Erik didn’t even flinch when the balcony door slid open behind him.
She stepped out like a dream in slow motion.
Sanaa
Still in his hoodie. Still wearing her glasses. Now with fuzzy cheetah-printed slippers on her feet. She didn’t ask to join, she just sank into the opposite lounge chair with a little sigh, pulling her legs up beneath her, and settled in like this was routine. Like they hadn’t been avoiding each other. Hadn’t eaten her pussy in the kitchen with a hunger that still made her twitch. She didn’t acknowledge him right away. Just scolded her phone, light tapping sounds from her acrylics on the screen.
Then, “Where you went off to lookin’ all fine like that?”
Her tone was tight was light. Casual. But the way her eyes cut over to him from behind those lenses said different. Erik chuckled low in his throat. He didn’t even turn his head, he just pulled another hit and exhaled slow.
“Solo date,” he said, flicking ash into the tray beside him, “Needed some air.”
“Oh yeah?” she teased, biting the corner of her bottom lip. “No lil D.C. chick out there waiting to feed you and rub on your chest a little?”
He finally looked over at her. Eyes dark. Steady, “Nah.” Then, slower—so low it almost slipped past the breeze, “You know why.”
The words hung between them, hot and heavy. Erik held her gaze just long enough to make her press her thighs together under the hoodie. Then, he glanced back inside the apartment through the slightly cracked curtain, eyes checking for any sign of movement.
No footsteps. No Aaliyah.
Safe.
“You good with school?” he asked. Voice smoother now. A little gentler, “You ready for graduation?”
Sanaa swallowed, the switch in tone making her pulse skip. He always did that. Moved from heat to softness so quick it left her dizzy.
“I’m good,” she said, tucking her feet tighter beneath her, “Almost done. Just gotta get through finals.”
“You will.” His voice was firm. Certain.
She nodded but kept her eyes on him, lips pressed into a smirk, “You sound like somebody’s big brother.”
“I am somebody’s big brother.”
“Right,” she said, dragging the word out slow, “That’s the problem.”
Erik looked back at her. Smoke from his blunt curled between them, his eyes low, his body relaxed, his thighs swaying like restraint took effort. Sanaa licked her lips. Erik watched her do it.
Neither of them moved.
Chocolate City buzzed. His blunt burned slow. His hoodie hung too big on her frame but from the way he looked sitting there it made her nipples press against the fabric all the same. Erik’s eyes dropped to her thighs once—quick, but not quick enough. She caught it.
She smiled.
He leaned back again.
Erik’s head tipped back, exhaling towards the sky like it held answers. That low hum of the city stretching under them, broken only by the soft scroll-click of Sanaa’s phone.
Then came her voice.
“Who were you talking to on the phone the other day?”
Her tone wasn’t accusing, just curious. Light. But Erik could feel the weight beneath it. She didn’t miss shit. Erik’s jaw flexed. He tapped ash into the tray and took another hit.
“Work shit.”
That was all he gave her. Short. Controlled.
Sanaa shifted on the lounge chair, pulling her legs in tighter, “Work shit where you gotta leave again soon?”
This time, he did look. Eyes sharp. Smoke dancing around his lips.
“Yeah.”
Sanaa rolled her eyes and turned her head, lips twisted like she was already annoyed.
That made him grin.
“Why you rollin’ your eyes, Bri?” he asked, low and teasing, “You don’t want me to leave?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
He watched her through the smoke, smirk deepening, “I gotta handle business, baby girl,” he said, voice dropped a register lower, “Get in Killmonger mode.”
That did something to her.
Sanaa didn’t respond but her body reacted all the same. Her thighs pressed together under the hoodie. Her breathing shifted, barely. Her eyes stayed locked on his like she was seeing something more than a man with a blunt and chain—like she was seeing the danger. The power. The one behind the name. And it stirred something in her. Something deep. Something wet. That look she gave him was louder than any words. A quiet hunger. A pulse-quickening dare.
Erik sat forward, elbows on his knees, blunt between his fingers. Caught it. Felt it. Didn’t speak on it. Just held her stare until the silence started to crackle with heat. Then, he blew smoke to the side and leaned back again like he hadn’t just clocked the exact second she got wet for him. Like he hadn’t just filed that reaction away for later.
She looked away first. Pretended to check her phone.
But her fingers were trembling.
Sanaa leaned back deeper into the lounge chair, phone resting against her thigh, pretending she was scrolling through nothing in particular. Her face stayed neutral. Calm. Unbothered. But her thumb slid into her hidden folder in her photos. And there it was. The video.
Her breath caught just a little when it loaded.
It was her. On her knees. Hair messy. Lips glossy. Eyes soft and needy. Erik’s hand in her hair, guiding her mouth. His voice low and approving somewhere off camera. The way she took him in her mouth as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks, looking up at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. She watched it on silent. Her thighs pressed together automatically. Her pussy reacted before her mind did, warmth blooming, pulse fluttering. She shifted in her seat, pretending it was nothing while inside her body was lighting up. She studied herself. The way her lips stretched. The way her tongue moved. The way she looked up at the camera, eyes glossy and trusting and filthy all at once. The way he fed her his dick like he owned her mouth. Her breathing changed. Subtle.
She replayed it. Once. Twice.
Her fingers tightened around her phone.
Then she made a decision.
Slowly, casually, like she wasn’t about to set something on fire, she tapped “send.”
Erik’s phone buzzed.
He barely reacted at first. Just reached for it out of habit, half-lounged, smoke drifting from his lips.
Then he saw the preview. And froze.
His body went still like somebody had pressed pause. The blunt burned down between his fingers, forgotten. On his screen: her mouth wrapped around him. Her eyes locked on his. His hand in her hair.
Them.
Erik’s jaw tightened and he let out a harsh breath through his nose. His chest lifted on a sharp inhale. He stared at it like it might disappear if he blinked.
It didn’t.
Across from him, Sanaa was scrolling on her phone. Chilling. Pretending she was reading something or checking Instagram. Like she didn’t just drop a sexual grenade in his lap.
Erik locked his phone. Then he looked at her.
Hard.
Sanaa felt it before she saw it. The heat. The intensity. That silent what the fuck are you doing look.
She finally glanced up.
Blink. Blink.
“Including me in your smoke session now?” she asked lightly.
Innocent. Too innocent.
Erik stared at her for a long second then leaned back on his chair, one arm draped over the armrest, eyes dark and dangerous.
“You play too much,” he said quietly.
She shrugged, “Do I?”
Her legs shifted again under the hoodie. Slow. On purpose.
The blunt burned low in the ashtray now, forgotten. The air on the balcony had changed. The silence between them too loud. Charged by the video she’d sent and the look Erik was giving her now. He sat up, elbows on his knees, hand clasped loose between his thighs, eyes locked on her like she was the problem and the solution all at once.
“How the fuck you get my hoodie?”
Sanaa didn’t miss a beat, “Went in your room and took it.”
His eyebrows rose, “You just goin’ through my shit now?”
She smirked and leaned back, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself like it was her birthright, “You got a fleshlight in there I wasn’t supposed to see?”
“Fuck outta here,” Erik snapped, shaking his head with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I don’t use no fuckin’ fleshlight.” Then he looked dead at her, “Not when my personal fleshlight sittin’ right there.”
That shut her up. Quick.
Sanaa’s throat moved when she swallowed. That cocky little smile faded—just a little—but not from embarrassment. From the burning desire. The throbbing rush that hit her in the center of her body like a punch.
Erik leaned back slow, eyes trailing over her thighs, her lips, her smug quiet, “You a bratty little girl,” he whispered, “You like pissing me off. You like it when I check you.”
Sanaa tilted her head, “Thought I was off limits?” she said, voice quiet but sharp, “Thought I wasn’t ready for you?”
Sanaa leaned forward, that same look she gave him in the video crawling back into her eyes.
“You don’t sound like you ready to be done with me.”
Erik stared at her. She could see him visibly tense. His tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. The shift in his chest and breathing changed. His phone buzzed again. Another text. Erik glanced down, expecting more of the same, but what hit his scheeen made his breath catch low in his chest. It was a picture. Of her.
Sanaa.
Laid out on the bed, phone angles from her chest, camera facing down her body. Legs spread wide. Pussy glistening. Lips stretched open, two fingers spreading herself open, creamy and wet like she’d been playing with it for a while. Her other hand held the phone, but her eyes were locked on the camera—on him—tongue poked out, spit dripping from the tip like a nasty fucking slut.
Erik’s grip tightened on the phone.
He blinked. Once. Twice. His jaw set hard as his dick twitched, painfully stiff now, throbbing under his shorts. His stomach flexed. His chest rose slow like he was trying to control something that was seconds from snapping.
He looked up at her.
Sanaa was already watching him. Already waiting. And just like that Sanaa lifted her legs up onto the lounge chair and spread her knees.
The hoodie shifted. The hem hiked.
No panties.
Bare.
Erik groaned under his breath, low and guttural. A growl scraping his throat as his whole mouth filled with saliva. She had him starving. That little pussy glistened under the moonlight like it was sending him a signal to come eat it again. Erik didn’t know what the fuck it was about her. This little freak. This bratty, bold-mouthed girl who walked around in barely anything and sending him videos on her knees sucking fat dick, now showing him how wet she stayed without even being touched. Erik’s fists clenched so hard his blunt nails dug into the palm of his hands. He was about five seconds from grabbing her by the neck, carrying her inside, and dropping her right on his dick.
His eyes dropped to her thighs again. Up to her eyes. Down to her spit slicked tongue. He was about to move. Then, he spotted her.
Aaliyah.
Walking out into the living room, lit by the blue glow of the TV. Pajama shorts, bonnet, a bowl of cereal in her hand. She was headed straight for the kitchen, then paused, her eyes clicked towards the balcony. Sanaa moved fast. Her legs dropped. Thighs snapped shut. Hoodie tugged down just enough to cover the evidence. She picked up her phone like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just been showing her older brother the wettest pussy he’d ever seen.
The sliding door eased open.
“Bitch, you out here smoking weed?” Aaliyah squinted as she stepped onto the balcony, “Last time you did that shit you was paranoid, talkin’ bout somebody laced it.”
“Nah. I just needed some air,” she said, voice even, casual, as if she hadn’t just been showing her pussy to her best friend’s brother seconds before.
Sanaa stood slow, hoodie falling back down over her thighs. She gave a soft stretch like she was bored, sliding her phone into her pocket.
Then, before walking back inside, she cast one last look at Erik.
Up and down.
Real slow.
Like she could still taste him.
———
Sanaa was curled on the sofa on a pair of tiny sleep shorts and a tank top with no bra, her legs crossed beneath her. She wore her glasses, and her phone was resting face up beside her on the cushion. She had it on speaker phone. Nathan’s voice drifting through.
Sanaa giggled at something he said, her fingers tracing lazily circles on her thigh, “you stupid,” she whispered into a smile, biting her bottom lip.
The oven clock flashed 2:11 a.m.
Erik emerged from the hallway shirtless and wearing loose, black sweats and nothing else. He looked half-sleep, half-annoyed, rubbing a hand over his abs as he walked to the kitchen with a takeout container in hand. As he opened the trash, the sound of Sanaa’s voice made him pause. He glanced over his shoulder.
That’s when she looked up. Right at him. Still on the phone. Smiling.
And when her eyes found his, they didn’t pull away. She held that look, those glossy lips parting lazy and tantalizingly slow. Then, she waved him over, two fingers flicking in a “come here” motion.
Erik stared for a second. He looked down at the trash, then back at her.
Then he came.
He walked over and dropped onto the other end of the sofa. The cushions shifted. He leaned back, arms folded over his chest, biceps massive from the way they flexed. His eyes remained glued to the screen like he was watching something that mattered. Truth is, he ain’t give a fuck.
But inside? Inside he was burning.
Why was she still talking to that nigga?
Nathan was mid-story, something about his job, some girl he dated before. Erik wasn’t listing. At least not fully. But Sanaa laughed again. That teasing, little laugh she gave Erik like she wanted to sneak into his bed and tug his shots down under the sheets.
Sanaa shifted closer. Just enough that her thigh brushed his. Erik didn’t move but his eyes cut at her then flicked them towards the hall. She leaned into him, her body all soft and cozy, and whispered “shh” like he was the one causing problems.
She serious?
Then, her hand dropped. Low. Over his crotch. Sanaa dragged her fingers slowly over the front of his joggers. Light at first. Teasing. Then firmer. Stroking his print like it was hers to touch. Erik’s arms stayed folded, but his chest rose. Once. Twice. Then she rubbed harder. The heel of her palm dragged along his shaft. Erik turned his head and stared down at her hand. Then up at her face.
What the fuck was she doing?
She was on the damn phone. Talking like she wasn’t stroking his print.
Nathan’s voice came through the speaker: “So when can I take you out again, Sanaa?”
Erik’s jaw flexed.
Sanaa blinked sedated. She took her time responding to Nathan. Her hand was already inside Erik’s waistband, her fingers curling around the length of him. Stroking. Sliding. Her thumb grazed the underside of his fat tip, watching the way his body tightened beneath her touch.
“Um…” she said lightly, pretending to think, “I’m not sure. I been kinda busy lately. But I’ll let you know.”
Nathan said something back, but Erik didn’t hear it. All he could focus on was how warm and delicate her palm felt. How good it felt to have her fingers moving over his shaft like that. Sanaa was stroking him with an unhurried twist of her wrist. Like she was painting a picture for herself and trying to see how hard she could make him while another man’s voice filled the room.
Then, she picked the phone up and placed it on the end table. Still on speaker. Nathan was talking about reservations now, something about a place in the city. Sanaa slid down off the sofa. She settled right between Erik’s legs on her knees, her tank riding up in the back giving him a view of her arch. The glow of the television flickered across her skin. Erik leaned his head back, nostrils flared, his abs flexing as she pulled his dick out fully, thick and hard and heavy in her grip. She just started stroking again.
Long, slow pulls.
Her eyes locked on his.
Erik looked down at her, his arms now stretched over the back of the sectional, trying to breathe quiet through his nose. He should’ve pushed her off. Told her to stop. But all he could do was sit there and watch that pretty little hand work him like she ain’t give a fuck who was on the other end of the line.
Nathan was still talking. But lil’ greedy ass Sanaa? She had his whole dick in both hands now, twisting, stroking, tongue peeking out against her lip like she was considering taking it in her mouth just to see how far she could go before Erik lost it.
His stomach tightened. He hissed low under his breath.
Sanaa smiled up at him, sweet and nasty. And went back to stroking.
Erik’s body was tense. Sanaa released his dick and his eyes widened a fraction at how if stood tall on its own like flag pole. Sanaa flicked her tongue against her top lip and almost made a noise that would get them both caught up. Then, she slid both hands up his thighs and leaned in closer, her mouth hovering over his dick like she was about to say grace. Sanaa’s lashes lowered as her lips pressed a soft kiss to his tip. Just one. Then another. Erik’s nostrils flared. He let out a quiet breath through his nose, eyes flicking towards the hallway.
Sanaa kissed the head again, slower this time, a little wetter, tongue peeking out to taste the bead of pre cum collecting at the tip. Erik’s lips parted, his hand balled onto a fist and came up to his mouth as he stifled a laugh, because what the fuck was she doing? She was really doing this right now. Right here. While her little phone date was still talking into the air like it mattered.
Nathan’s voice came through again, soft and curious, “What you doing now?”
Sanaa didn’t look up right away. She kissed Erik’s tip again then dragged her tongue gently around the crown with lazy strokes like she was savoring it. Then, she grabbed the phone, smiled faintly, and answered like it was nothing.
“I’m eating.”
Erik gave her a sharp look, one brow lifting like she was out of her damn mind. Sanaa grinned at his expression, lips shiny, and then she wrapped them fully around the tip and started sucking.
Her mouth made a soft suction sound as she eased down just enough to let the head press against her tongue, then pulled back with a gentle pop. Erik’s hips jerked once. His eyes slammed shut for a second. When they opened, he looked back down the hall again, half-expecting to see Aaliyah standing there but the hallway was empty and dark. Just them. Sanaa’s lips closed tighter this time as she started working the tip with smooth, we strokes of her mouth, each pass sending a chill crawling up Erik’s spine. He leaned back further against the sofa, hands gripping the cushions, teeth buried in his bottom lip. She was barely taking him in, just teasing that thick head, but the way she did it made his toes curl in his socks. The pressure of her lips. The way her tongue flattened and dragged each time she came up. It was like she wanted to see just how much she could make him feel the least amount of effort.
Erik looked down at her, his eyes dark, cheating rising steady but deep. Sanaa glanced up mid-suck, eyes glossy and wicked. And Nathan continued to talk. Still clueless. Erik didn’t know whether to laugh or pull her off and take her right there. He didn’t do either one. He let her keep going. Let her continue to use that bratty mouth however she wanted. Let that “I’m eating” hang in the air. Because right now? She was.
Sanaa’s mouth settled into a steady pace, her lips sealed tightly around Erik’s tip, tongue pressing and dragging underneath with just enough pressure to make his thighs tense. She worked him with deep sucks, trying to fit as much of his him in. Easing down a little farther with every pass, letting more of his thick length slide into her mouth before pulling back up again. Each time she came up, she kissed the head with a soft peck like she was apologizing for how good she was about to make him feel.
Erik’s face told the whole story.
His brows stayed furrowed. His jaw clenched to fight himself from groaning. But his lips kept parting without permission. Every time her tongue flicked against the sensitive spot underneath, Erik’s eyes fluttered shut for half a second before he forced them back open. He stared down the hallway like he was guarding a crime scene, neck stretched, shoulders tense, body locked in place except for the subtle roll of his hips when she hit sucked him just right.
Erik’s had slid from the sofa cushion to his thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
Sanaa popped her lips off of him suddenly, a quiet wet pop filling the living room. Erik sucked in a sharp breath, chest heaving, his eyes snapping down to her in protest. Before he could say anything, Sanaa reached over and unmuted the phone.
“Mmm, yeah, that sound nice,” she said casually, voice sweet and normal, “We’ll see.”
Then she muted it again. And went right back to work.
Her mouth closed around him deeper, taking more of his length, cheeks hollowing as she sucked with real vigor. Her hands joined in, one at the base, twisting, the other sliding up and down in sync with her lips. She was so focused. Locked in like she had decided she wasn’t stopping until she made him lose control.
Erik dropped his head back against the sofa, his throat working as he swallowed hard. A low sound rumbled out of his chest before he could stop it, somewhere between a groan and a curse. Erik pressed his lips together then licked them slowly, trying to stay quiet and aware of his surroundings. Trying not to embarrass himself by losing it while another man was still talking in the background. Erik glanced down the hallway again.
Sanaa’s pace picked up just enough to make his stomach tighten. She alternated between slow, deep pulls and fast, shallow sucks on the tip. Her tongue traced circles that made his knees weak. Every time she pulled back, she let spit string between her lips and his dick before sealing her mouth around him again.
Erik’s eyes rolled back for a second. He clenched his jaw.
“Fuck,” he mouthed silently, shoulders lifting with a sharp breath.
She popped off him again, unmuted, “Mm-hmm, I know,” she said softly into the phone, “That sound good.”
Muted it.
The took him back in immediately, deeper than before, her nose brushing his skin, her throat relaxing just enough to make him gasp. His hands flew up to grip the back of the sofa. His head fell back. His eyes closed then opened again just to check the hall one more time. His body was starting to betray him now. His hips rocked forward like he didn’t have control over his body. His thighs were flexed. His abs tightened so hard they hurt. Breathing uneven, shallow, broken up by the quiet hisses every time her mouth tightened.
Sanaa felt it. She felt him getting closer and closer to that nut. The way his stomach jumped. The way his dick twitched in her mouth. The way his breath stuttered every time she went deep with that tight ass throat. Sanaa slowed just enough to torture him. Worked the tip. Dragged her tongue under. Sucked harder. Erik’s head rolled back again, neck exposed, full lips parted, his eyes half-lidded as he stared down the hallway through heavy lashes.
He whispered under his breath, barely audible, “Ma… don’t…”
But his hands never moved to stop her. And she didn’t listen to him anyway. Because she was determined to make him cum.
Right there. In that living room.
With Nathan still talking like the woman he was pursuing wasn’t slobbering on big dick.
His grip on the sofa tightened until his knuckles flexed. His jaw locked. His lips pressed together so hard they almost disappeared.
She knew that look, that was the look he got right before he lost it. So she didn’t ease up. She doubled down. Sanaa’s mouth slid down slick and tight, taking him as deep as she could, relaxing her throat, letting him fill it. Her hands stayed steady at the base, twisting gently, keeping the strokes perfect. Her tongue stayed flat and wet underneath him, licking that sensitive spot over and over. Dragging firm and slow like she was coaxing it out of him on purpose.
Erik’s head lolled back like he’d lost control of his neck. His eyes squeezed shut. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. A sound tried to escape his mouth but it was trapped. Erik bit down on his bottom lip, brought a fist to his mouth, and pressed it there, breathing through his nose, shoulders slightly trembling as he fought himself with everything he had. Erik glanced down the hallway one last time through half-lidded eyes, checking, praying, making sure his little sister didn’t witness her best friend take nut down her throat.
Sanaa took him deep again. Held him there. Sucked hard.
And that was it.
Erik’s whole body locked up. His hips lifted slightly off the sofa. His abs clenched. His thighs went rigid. And he came.
Hard.
Thick, warmth flooded her mouth and throat as he spilled, pulsing against her tongue, wave after wave after wave. Sanaa didn’t pull back or hesitate. She kept her mouth sealed around him, swallowing everything he gave her, staying right there until he was completely spent. Sanaa was hungry for that nut. Mouth salivating past normal for it like she couldn’t go another second without him sitting heavy on her pink tongue.
Erik stayed frozen for a moment. He was afraid if he loved, he would give himself away.
Sanaa slowly pulled back, her lips shiny with a mixture of gloss, spit, and cum. Her eyes soft and satisfied. She swallowed once more, then looked up at him with a little smile that said “I made daddy cum with my mouth.”
Nathan was still talking. Completely unaware.
Erik finally lowered his hand from his mouth, chest rising and falling too fast. He looked down at her, eyes dark, stunned, half-wrecked, half-impressed, and ready to punish her like he couldn’t believe she really just did that to him without making a sound.
