summary: just what I think of each of these characters when it comes to pull out 🗣
— 𝒮teve ℛogers ;; He likes to think he’s good at it. And honestly? He is. Respectful, controlled, painfully self-aware. The second he feels himself getting close, he speeds up, grits his teeth, and pulls out right on time—usually on your stomach or chest. Gentleman. HOWEVER—deep, deep down? He does have a breeding kink. He just won’t admit it. The day you whisper “it’s okay, I’m on the pill”? He hesitates just long enough to ruin his perfect record.
Rating: 10/10. Practically flawless. Just a little too responsible.
— 𝒯ony 𝒮tark ;; This man cums like he’s paying rent. He could pull out. He knows how. Won’t. He’s like, “You knew the risk,” and just lets go. Finishes inside you with a smirk, kisses your temple like he didn’t just pump you full, and asks for another round like nothing happened.
Rating: 7/10. Could pull out. Ignores it. Still makes it hot.
— ℬucky ℬarnes ;; NO WAY this man is risking it, but for the sake of the game, let’s say he tries. He means to pull out. He really does. But the second you tighten around his cock when he’s close? Too late. He’s already twitching, already filling you up. Feels guilty after, mutters apologies, but ask him for another round and he forgets all about it.
Rating: 5/10. Tries. Fails. Feels bad. Does it again.
— 𝒯hor 𝒪dinson ;; Sweetheart himbo with the pull-out instincts of a golden retriever. You tell him “pull out,” and he’s like, “But why, beloved?” while thrusting deeper. His idea of affection is cumming in you until it’s leaking down your thighs and calling it “a gift from the gods.”
Rating: 0/10. He means well. That’s the problem.
— ℒoki ℒaufeyson ;; Oh, he can pull out. He just won’t—unless it’s to tease you. Otherwise? He stays buried until the very end, groaning in your ear about how good you feel while he fills you up. He wants to watch it drip out. It’s about power. Ownership. Ruin. You say “pull out”? He says “make me.”
Rating: 0/10. Wicked.
— 𝒫eter 𝒫arker ;; He’s studied the theory. He wants to pull out. He really does. But the second things start getting too good? He’s whimpering, cock twitching, finishing inside you before he even realizes it. Apologizes mid-orgasm and offers to run to the pharmacy still inside you.
Rating: 3/10. He tries. He panics. He fails.
— ℰrik 𝒦illmonger ;; Pull out? Babe, he hears you say it and smirks. Doesn’t even pretend to listen. Holds your hips down, grinds in deeper, and finishes inside like he means it. Tells you “You better take all that,” like it’s a challenge and a threat. Might pull out once—just to finish on your face and call it a reward. But most nights? He’s filling you up like it’s his personal mission.
Rating: -100/10. He’s doing it on purpose. You’re not walking right tomorrow.
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 Four
Doja Cat was blasting.
The speaker thumped against the cluttered dresser, vibrations through every inch of Aaliyah’s room. Loose clothes were everywhere. A carry-on half-zipped. Shoes tossed across the rug. Outfits draped over the desk chair and mirror. It was chaos but a cute, girly chaos. Sanaa was behind her, hands working fast, fingers gathering Aaliyah’s curls into a soft, high updo. She left a few spirals loose to kiss the sides of her face and neck, swooping the edges into delicate baby hairs with her pinky and a bit of edge control.
Baby we tried to fight it…we all been there some days…thought i needed something else and acted like I was okay…we just had to work it out…and baby, I needed space…ain’t nobody ‘round here on your level you’re so far away…
Aaliyah hit the high notes like she meant ‘em, holding her phone like a mic, eyes closed. Sanaa laughed behind her, doing backup vocals while pinning the last piece into place.
“Girl, you not gon’ be able to sing once you out with Jordan tonight,” Sanaa teased, “He gon’ have you losing your breath.”
“Please.” Aaliyah smiled but tried to play it cool, “He better act like he got some sense tonight. Or I’ll just Uber home and call it a day.”
Sanaa raised her brows in the mirror, “And have Erik spazz out?”
“Exactly why I need to look good,” Aaliyah said, twirling a curl around her finger, “If I’m gonna have to fight for my date, I wanna at least be fine doin’ it.”
“You so STUPID!”
The girls laughed again as Sanaa fluffed the final piece into place. The style was soft, romantic, and full of volume, her curls pinned up just right, with a few framing tendrils that made her look ethereal.
“You cute as hell,” Sanaa said, stepping back to admire her work, “Like…damn near ethereal. Floatin’.”
“Okay, floatin’!” Aaliyah grinned, turning her head side to side in the mirror, “All I need is that lil’ lip tint—what’s the name of it? The peach one.”
Sanaa nodded, already walking toward the door, “Yeah, hold on. It’s in my room—I’ll grab it.”
The music kept playing. Aaliyah kept dancing in the mirror. Sanaa opened the door and stepped into the hallway, her body still buzzing from the energy in the room, hair swaying across her upper back like a mane’s tail, jeans riding low on her slim waist. That shirt of hers hugged her torso just right, rising a little too high when she moved.
She was humming the lyrics under her breath.
Like you…like you…like you, ooh…
Not knowing that just a few steps down the hall…Erik was about to stop fighting it. And he was about to show her exactly what he meant when he said she was a problem.
Sanaa didn’t mean to take her time, but she did.
She bent over when she reached for that tiny-ass lip tint, back dimples popping out. Erik was nowhere in sight. She assumed he was still in his room, probably back on that game again or scrolling through something that didn’t include her. But it didn’t stop her from glancing toward his cracked door as she passed. Didn’t stop her from swinging her hips just a little harder, letting that tantalizing denim ride low. She grabbed the tint, popped the cap, and started to slick it on in the hall. Thought maybe she’d linger long enough to catch his shadow in the doorway. But nothing.
Not until her phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
A text from Erik.
Then the photo dropped in.
Her heart stuttered. Fingers froze. Lips parted mid-swipe. The pic loaded slow, and it wasn’t because of Wi-Fi, it was because the universe knew what it was doing. Knew how to make her squirm. He was laid back on his bed. Dark sheets beneath him. His thick, muscular thighs stretched out, sweatpants loose but not loose enough. The fabric clung like it knew it had a job—to hug that dick and show out. And baby…it showed out.
Sanaa’s breath caught.
That print was aggressive. Damn near 3D. The outline of him long and thick, stretching down the left side, pushing heavy through the fabric like it was trying to make contact. You could see the whole thing, even the way the tip curved a little along his thigh. A thick, high rise of flesh full and unmistakably real. That kind of print that made your mouth water and your knees forget how to function.
And he knew what he was doing.
Because the waistband was tugged down just low enough to show the trail of hair leading there. That little line that had her thighs pressing together every damn time he walked around shirtless.
The next text slid in.
Erik: You sure you can handle this dick, slut?
No emoji. No cute follow-up. Just that. Straight to the point.
Sanaa blinked. Felt heat crawl up her chest. Her thighs clenched and her pussy pulsed, fast and hot like it was answering for her before her brain could catch up.
Another text.
Erik: I know you think you grown…but you keep testing me. You want daddy to stretch that lil pussy out, huh?
She swallowed hard. Backed into the wall. Still staring at the screen like it was hypnotic. Like the print itself had a grip on her.
Then he sent another. This one a close-up. A zoomed crop of just the bulge. You could see the ridge of the head now. Thick and proud, fighting through the fabric like it needed air. She could imagine exactly what it would feel like, dragging over her lips. The weight of it. The warmth. The way his dick would hit her deep, then deeper, making her gasp before she even realized he was all the way in. She squeezed her thighs again. Pressed the gloss tube against her lips just to keep from letting out a sound. Biting the end of it to muffle a faint whimper.
Another text.
Erik: You gon’ let me fuck that attitude off your face? Or you still wanna play?
She didn’t type back. Sanaa didn’t trust herself. Her fingers hovered. She thought about sending a cute reply. A selfie. A smart-ass remark.
But she couldn’t stop staring.
Another ping.
Erik: Slide them jeans off. Right now. Take a pic of them panties you tryna keep dry. I know you wet.
Another beat.
Erik: Matter fact…pull em to the side. Let me see what I’m finna ruin.
Sanaa’s whole body prickled. The heat between her legs surged so fast it scared her. Her panties already damp, already clinging. And he knew it would be. And she knew if she took them off, that wetness would leave a trail down her thighs. Her hand shook as she reached for her waistband. Phone still in the other. Her reflection in the mirror looked flustered, guilty, wrecked. And all she’d done was read his texts. All she’d done was look at the print of that dick.
Erik sent one more.
Erik: You takin too long, Bri. Want me to come do it for you?
She hesitated. Not long but it was long enough to decide she was gonna be bad about it. Sanaa stood there in the hallway, one hip leaned against the wall, phone in her hand like it weighed too much. Her other hand dipped slow, smooth, hooking into the waist of her jeans and easing them down over her hips. Not all the way. Just enough. She let the denim bunch at the top of her thighs, soft curves spilling above the waistband, brown skin glowing under the hallway light. Her panties were black, thin, silky, clinging to her fat pussy like they knew how good she looked. The outline was obscene. The damp spot even worse. That pretty little pussy soaked, lips full and pressed up tight behind the fabric, looking like it was begging for attention.
But she didn’t pull ‘em to the side or spread shit. Didn’t give him what he wanted like he commanded. She snapped the pic like that. Jeans mid-thigh. Panties stretched tight. A flash of her hand at her stomach, holding the phone down at an angle that showed everything but what he was asking for.
Still teasing and playing. And that was the point. The point was to drive him crazy to this very moment.
And she succeeded.
She hit send, pulled her jeans back up with a cute little shimmy of her hips, let them hug her again like nothing happened, and walked her ass back into Aaliyah’s room. The door creaked open and Aaliyah was in the bathroom, face close to the mirror, blending out her contour like she was late for a photo shoot. She had her robe tied loose, lashes half-on, and was already rambling like her best friend wasn’t spiraling inside.
“Ugh, I shoulda told Jordan ten minutes later,” she complained, “He always pullin up early like I don’t need a full beat.”
Sanaa gave a tight smile, “You look fine.”
Aaliyah scoffed, “Bitch, duh. But I wanna look good. Like, ‘can I suck your dick in the car before we get there’ good.”
Sanaa let out a short breath through her nose, pacing slowly toward the edge of the bed. She sat down, careful, like if she moved too fast, her body might give her away. Because she was nervous now. Heart tapping faster. Mouth dry. Stomach aching in that weird, fluttery way, like something was lowkey crawling behind her navel. Because Jordan pulling up meant Aaliyah would be leaving. And if Aaliyah left…she’d be alone in the apartment.
With him.
With Erik.
With that dick print still burned into her screen.
With that last text still hanging in the air.
Her phone vibrated again. She snatched it quick, face tilted away from the bathroom, thumb opening the thread before she could change her mind.
Erik: That lil’ drip don’t scare me, Bri.
Erik: Shit look perfect. Fat ass pussy lookin like it need to be ate through the fabric.
Sanaa felt her breath catch. Spine straightening. Another one came through right after.
Erik: You got all that pussy sittin up pretty and you still playin like I won’t put you on ya back and feed. I’ma lick it till you cry, slut. Then fuck you so deep you forget your name.
Her legs crossed tight. She folded over just a little, pretending to reach for something in her bag. In truth, she just needed to breathe. She could feel the heat rising again, thick between her thighs. Her panties clinging worse than before. Every word from him sent sparks through her chest, straight down her belly.
She whimpered under her breath low and weak.
Aaliyah’s voice floated from the bathroom, still talking shit about Jordan’s playlist and how he always played the same Gunna song on repeat. Sanaa barely heard her. She was staring at her screen like it had her under a spell. Her lips parted, breathing shaky, one hand pressed flat against her stomach like she could hold it all in. But she couldn’t. She wanted him bad. Bad enough her whole body was pulsing for it.
Sanaa felt her phone buzz again.
Another text.
She knew it was him before she even looked. Her hands were already shaking. The ache between her legs had gone from something faint to something deep. Her whole body felt wired, charged, too aware of the man just a few steps away behind that bedroom door. Erik wasn’t teasing anymore. He was taunting now. And she was the one who started it. She sat on the edge of the bed while Aaliyah kept rambling from the bathroom about lashes and lip combos. Sanaa barely heard a word. All she could focus on was the little text bubbles on her screen.
Incoming video from Erik. She tapped it. And baby…that shit opened like a floodgate.
Erik was in his room, lights low. The TV in the background still glowing, 2K music faint under it, but all the attention was on him. He stood in front of his full-length mirror, one hand holding the phone low, filming himself from the perfect angle. His tank was lifted halfway up with his other hand, exposing his hard stomach, deep-cut abs flexed, muscles twitching every time he moved. Locs hanging in his face, jaw tight like he was trying not to say what he was really thinking.
Then he gripped it.
Right through the fabric of his grey joggers, his hand wrapped around that thick ass dick print like it belonged on display. He tugged at the base, squeezing through the material, and it only made that dick print bolder. It rose up heavy. You could see the whole length, thick from the root, wide and long, curving slightly as it swelled against the soft cotton. The shape of it clear as day. That dick that made you question if you were even built for it. The kind that pushed back. That moved when he touched it. It jumped once in his pants when he flexed, and she gasped. Couldn’t stop herself. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes low in the mirror. Then he looked into the camera, and that’s when it hit her in the chest.
That stare.
Dark. Primal.
He could see right through her. He said nothing in the video because that look said it all. That look said: You wanna play, baby girl? Bet. He kept rubbing that dick through his pants, slow strokes that showed just how long and heavy he was. The camera dipped a little lower to catch the way the fabric stretched tight over the tip, swollen and pulsing like it was trying to punch through.
And then the video ended. Just like that.
Sanaa was trembling.
A mess.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe, the heat in her panties had become unbearable. Her pussy was slick, no, wet. That good wet. Sticky. Her thighs pressed together in a panic and it only made it worse. She wanted to squirm. To grind. To touch. But Aaliyah was still in the bathroom, talking, moments from walking out and leaving Sanaa completely alone.
With him.
Another message popped through.
Erik:Yeah you still playin’. Drippin for me, ain’t you? You not ready. Not for this dick. Not for what I’ma do when I get my hands on that lil pussy.
She whimpered again. This time, too loud.
Aaliyah paused, “You good?”
“Yeah,” Sanaa choked out, clearing her throat, “Just… stomach cramp.”
“Mmm. Prolly hungry. You be forgetting to eat.”
Sanaa kept her head down, hair falling around her face as she clutched her phone to her chest, her other hand pressing down hard against her stomach, trying to soothe the ache that wasn’t from hunger. She needed to get it together. Fast. Because Erik wasn’t letting up.
Aaliyah spun once in front of her mirror, curls pinned up in a soft, coiled halo. Her shoulders were bare, dusted in cocoa shimmer, the neckline of her sweater dress dipping just enough to be flirty but still dinner-appropriate.
“Okay, okay,” she said, turning to Sanaa, “Be honest. Is it givin’?”
Sanaa looked her up and down from the bed, chin in her hand, “It’s givin’,” she nodded, “Soft serve caramel dream. You good.”
Aaliyah grinned, “Thank you, bitch.”
Then—
Knock knock.
They both froze.
“Oh God,” Aaliyah panicked, grabbing her compact, “That’s him.”
Another knock, this one firmer.
Then Erik’s deep voice called from down the hall: “I got it.”
Aaliyah’s eyes widened in alarm, “No, no. Sanaa—go with him! Make sure he don’t try nothin’. You know how he is!”
Sanaa stood, already feeling the heat crawl up the back of her neck, “Ain’t my job to babysit—”
“Sanaa,” Aaliyah whined, eyes pleading.
She rolled her eyes, but her feet were already moving. Each step down the hallway made her skin feel tighter, her chest heavier. And there he was, already unlocking the front door, joggers slung low on his hips, body radiating that heavy, hot, quiet he always wore when he didn’t like something.
That door creaked open. Then came him.
Jordan.
Tall. 6’1”, maybe 6’2”. Warm bronze skin, lined-up fade with neat braids tied back. Sharp cheekbones, a watch that said money but humble. Button-up and slacks. Smooth smile with a dimple just beneath his left cheek.
Sanaa clocked all of it in one sweep.
He stepped forward, “Hey,” he greeted, voice low, polite, Then he turned to Erik, “You must be Erik. Jordan Taylor.”
He extended a hand. Erik stared at it like it was a disrespect to invade his space and expect to be dapped up. He took it, and he didn’t give him a shake. It was a vice grip squeeze. Sanaa saw the subtle flex of Erik’s forearm. How Jordan kept it calm, not backing down. The silence between them was louder than the knock had been.
Erik’s voice came low and gravel-thick, “You pick her up, you bring her back. Same way.”
Jordan gave a single nod, “Of course. Got her the whole night.”
Erik’s jaw ticked, “You better.”
Jordan looked at her, expression shifting softer, “You must be Sanaa?”
She tilted her head, smiling just enough, “Guilty.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said with ease.
And then Aaliyah appeared. The effect was instant. Jordan’s whole face softened. Eyes swept over her like he forgot how to blink.
“Damn,” he exhaled, “You look…”
Aaliyah laughed, touched his arm, “You too.”
They left out together, light on their feet. Jordan’s hand brushed Aaliyah’s lower back as she stepped ahead of him, laughing at something he said under his breath. She looked like she knew she was the main character. Like the city lights outside were hers to walk into.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Alone.
Sanaa stood near the arm of the sofa, phone still in hand, pulse tickin’ too fast in her neck. Erik stood out like a damn silhouette in that tank top. Still brooding. He was by the window now. Arms crossed over that thick chest, jaw set. His locs hung just enough to shadow his eyes, but she didn’t need to see ’em to feel it. That look was already on her. Slowly, he turned. His stare dragged over her like it had weight. Sanaa was frozen.
Erik’s eyes dropped once. To her mouth. Then lower. Then back up. Still not a word. And just when she thought he might speak—might finally say some slick shit to push her over—he turned.
Walked off without a glance.
Broad back disappearing down the hallway. Heavy steps. Calm like a storm moving in. Sanaa just stood there, breath shallow, heart knocking.
Then her phone buzzed. And she knew…he wasn’t done
Erik: I’ma fuck my name into that pussy.
Erik’s door was shut.
That alone made her nerves scream.
Sanaa walked past it slow, every step deliberate like the apartment might hear her thinking too loud. The air itself was waiting on something to pop off. She didn’t look at his door when she passed it. The heat coming from behind that wood. The weight of him on the other side, knowing she was there. Knowing she was alone now.
She slipped into her room and shut the door behind her.
Click.
The sound landed heavier than it normally would.
She leaned back against it for a second, eyes closed, chest rising and falling too fast. Her phone was in her hand, screen dark. No texts. No commands. No permission. And that almost made it worse. She peeled her clothes off slow. Jeans first, sliding them down her hips, stepping out of them like she had all the time in the world. Her wet panties clung in that needy way she hated and loved at the same time. She left them on. On purpose.
Sanaa pulled on an oversized tee. Old. Soft. A vintage rock band shirt that used to belong to somebody else, sleeves stretched, hem falling mid-thigh. It slipped off one shoulder when she moved, exposing smooth brown skin and the strap of her bra. The fabric brushed against her nipples every time she breathed and they were tight, sensitive, betraying her. She sat on the edge of the bed and bounced her knee, restless. Hands fidgeting. Fingers digging into her thigh, then her stomach, then her chest like she didn’t know where to put them.
Her body felt loud. Her pussy felt louder.
A deep ache sat between her legs, low and constant, not sharp but heavy. Like something was pressing from the inside out. She was full of anticipation instead of anything solid. A slick heat between them making her suck in a breath through her teeth.
She’d been waiting for this. That truth settled in her chest and didn’t move.
Waiting since the first time she caught him watching her from across the room. Waiting since the first time his voice dropped when he said her name. Waiting through every almost-touch, every too-long stare, every moment she pretended she wasn’t thinking about how he’d feel on top of her. Inside her. Over her. Making her behave.
This was her moment. And she was scared as hell.
Not scared of him. Scared of herself. Of how bad she wanted to walk down that hall, open his door, and offer herself up just like he said. Knees soft. Head tilted. Mouth ready.
She stood up. Her heart thudded hard, heavy, like it was trying to talk her out of it and failing. She smoothed the shirt down, pushed her shoulders back, lifted her chin. Took a breath that didn’t steady her at all. Then, she walked to her bedroom door. Her hand wrapped around the knob clammy and slightly slick.
She opened it.
And he was right there.
Close.
Too close.
Sanaa gasped before she could stop herself. The sound caught in her throat, sharp and soft all at once. Her body reacted faster than her mind. Chest jumping. Body shaking. That ache flaring hot and needy. Erik stood in the hallway like he’d been waiting the whole time, locs loose around his face. His presence filled the space between them instantly, heavy and undeniable. His eyes dropped to her shoulder, the way the shirt slipped, the bare skin offered up without her meaning to.
Then his gaze lifted. Locked on hers. Her breath shook. She didn’t step back.
The door behind her was still open. Her room exposed. Her bed visible over her shoulder. Everything about her right there for him to take in. And the silence between them was thick enough to choke on.
She swallowed.
He didn’t touch her, but the way he moved toward her felt like contact all the same.
Erik stepped in close. One step. Another. Measured. Calculated. His shoulders filled the narrow space and everything seemed to fade under the weight of him. She backed up without thinking, breath catching low in her chest until her spine met the cool wall.
He kept walking.
Not rushing or crowding her clumsily. Closing in at a pace that said he already knew she wasn’t going anywhere. His eyes locked on hers the entire time, a low heat building the longer neither of them spoke.
Sanaa felt her pulse throb at the base of her throat. Erik lifted his arms, planted his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head, and that simple motion swallowed the rest of the hallway. The muscles in his biceps flexed. His scent curled into the tiny pocket of space between them. She could feel the heat coming off his chest even though they weren’t touching.
A small, stunned breath slipped out of her.
He didn’t move closer or lean all the way in. Erik didn’t even let his body graze hers. He just stood there, caging her in, staring down at her like he was deciding what to do with a temptation he had tried too long to ignore. Heat wound through her ribs. Sanaa lifted her chin a little, eyes meeting his with the same guarded intensity he came in with, but it didn’t hold. Not against the way he looked at her or the quiet storm rolling behind his eyes. Her composure began to soften, the edges of it loosened. Her lips parted. Her gaze slipped from his eyes to his mouth, then back up again.
Erik saw every shift. Every twitch.
His chest rose slow, fell slow, like he was working to keep himself steady. The lights overhead cast a warm glow over his face, highlighting the sculpt of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the tightness around his eyes where control sat heavy. His height boxed her in. His presence pressed against her without a single point of contact. Sanaa’s breath quickened. It wasn’t frantic breaths. She was aware of him. Aware of the heat rising low in her stomach. Aware of the subtle ache forming before he ever laid a finger on her. Her back stayed flat against the wall. Her thighs eased together for no reason except the way he looked at her.
His eyes dipped slow down her face, over her lips, then back to her gaze like he wanted to see if she’d break.
She did. Just a little.
Her lashes lowered in a slow blink. Her lips stayed parted. Her heartbeat pulsed all through her, tightening, waiting, wanting something she wasn’t going to say first. Erik shifted his weight slightly forward, and the change in proximity alone sent a warm rush down her spine. He still didn’t touch her. But his presence filled her senses so completely that her body reacted as if he had. Her throat bobbed in a swallow. Her voice didn’t come. The air felt too charged to cut through with anything foolish like a word.
Erik stayed like that, looking down at her while the tension built between their bodies. That subtle, slow pull that crept from silence to desire. Her fingers curled against the wall. Her breath brushed the front of his shirt. Her pulse fluttered wild beneath her skin. And Erik let the stare hold. So heavy. So intense. So hypnotic that it pulled her deeper into it, inch by inch. Her face shifted again, the last bit of resistance slipping. Desire sat openly in her eyes now, warm and unguarded. Her gaze traced his lips again before settling back on him. Her chest lifted in a small inhale that pressed her body closer to the invisible line between them.
Erik’s jaw tensed. That was all he let himself show. But it was enough for her to feel it. Their breath mingled. A quiet, electric charge coiled in the center of that hallway like something ready to strike if one of them leaned even an inch closer. But he dipped his head, lowering it until his locs brushed the side of her cheek like a dark curtain falling around them.
Sanaa’s breath stuttered.
He exhaled slow. Steady. A breath that felt like it traveled straight through her skin. Her knees threatened to give just from the heat of it. Her pulse fluttered wildly against the wall behind her spine.
Then, right against her ear, low enough to curl her toes, he confessed.
“I want you.”
Low, yet powerful.
Sanaa shut her eyes because her body reacted before she could stop it. A shiver climbed her back, small and sharp, as if those three words reached places he hadn’t even touched.
He waited for that reaction. Savored it. Then his voice brushed her again, deeper now, “But you already knew that, huh?”
Her mouth didn’t move to give him a reaction. Her lips parted, but the sound didn’t come. Her chest rose in a trembling breath, the silence itself exposing everything she thought she was hiding.
Erik angled his head a little, eyes on her like he could see straight through her, “You ain’t even gotta say it,” he said, voice thick with heat, “Cuz you want me too. That’s why you teasing me so much, right?”
Sanaa’s teeth caught the corner of her lip. Almost like a plea disguised as hesitation. Her gaze lifted, locking with his, and the look she gave him was the closest thing to surrender without a single word spoken.
Erik leaned in until their faces were almost touching, breath mingling, both of them pulled tight into the moment, “Worked so hard to break me,” he spoke low, voice steady and low as his eyes dragged over her mouth, “And it worked.”
Her stomach fluttered and clenched.
He dipped closer, bringing his lips to the point where she could feel the warmth of them without contact. Her breath caught with a shaky sound as he continued, “Because now…” The words ghosted her mouth. His breath slid across her lips, light enough to set off sparks under her skin, “…now I’ma show you what happens when you provoke me, lil miss ‘I want my best friend’s older brother to fuck me.’”
Sanaa’s expression changed instantly. Desire pulled her features soft and dreamy. Lips parted. Eyes low, heavy-lidded, almost dazed like he’d taken her legs out from under her.
Erik watched that look spread over her, studied it like he wanted to memorize every shift. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if considering her, “Now…” he said quietly, “what to do about that…”
His gaze dropped down her body, slow enough to make her breathing quicken, then back up. He lifted his hand a fraction, not touching her, just bringing it close enough for her to feel the heat coming off his skin. His voice deepened, “These scars?” His free hand rose between them, palm turned slightly so she could see the patterns carved into his skin, “Each one for a kill.”
Her breath hitched hard, chest lifting in a trembling inhale.
“You sure you wanna go there with me?” he asked, tone steady as a pulse, “Cuz I don’t fuck like them lil niggas you prolly used to.” He bent a little closer. Close enough that her lips grazed his breath again, “That jackhammer shit?” His eyes lowered to her mouth, “Nah.” His voice dropped to something dark and dangerous and it wrapped around her spine and pulled her forward, “I’ma leave my dick print in your guts for the rest of your fuckin life, girl.”
Sanaa’s body trembled with a reaction she couldn’t hide. Shock. He could feel her answer in the heat between them. Erik let a faint chuckle slip out of him. It carved into the tight space between them and hit Sanaa right in her stomach. His single dimple dipped into his cheek, that little flash of cuteness wrapped around something entirely unsoft. He licked his lips once, a slow sweep of his tongue across the bottom one, gold slugs glinting under the hallway light.
Then he spoke, “You ever heard of a grind, baby girl?” His voice rolled over her skin, “Ever seen it? I’m sure you have…girl like you prolly got a whole bookmark saved on your Twitter…”
Her reaction was instant. Immediate. Almost physical in a way that made her embarrassed to breathe. A pulse throbbed between her thighs so sharp she nearly whimpered. Heat flooded her underwear so fast she felt it soak straight through the cotton, sticky and warm against her skin. Her nipples tightened under her tank, pushing hard against the fabric, so sensitive they tingled at the slightest shift in air between them. Goosebumps rose along her arms and belly, a shiver rolling up her spine like a slow electric climb.
And all he did was talk.
Erik watched the way she reacted, watched the tension in her throat, the small way she pulled in a breath she couldn’t hide. He leaned closer, his words dropping lower, “I fuck to make you feel me,” he said, that deep timbre sinking into her bones, “And I don’t rush it. I ain’t chasing a nut. I’m aiming to make you melt, baby.”
Her thighs pressed tight together.
“That’s what a grown man do.”
Sanaa’s lips parted again, barely a sound leaving her. Erik lifted his hand slowly, so slow she felt each inch of anticipation travel up her nerves. He used a single knuckle and stroked her cheek with a touch so careful it sent a hot, aching wave straight through her middle.
He bit his bottom lip as he looked at her, “You so damn pretty, Bri.”
The nickname hit deeper because of the way he said it. Like he owned her. Like she had no idea what she was doing to him.
“Had a nigga shook when you walked out with them lil ass shorts on.” His eyes darkened, “I was like mmm…fuuuck. This Sanaa? Lil shy, quiet, hiding in the corner Sanaa?” His gaze swept down her body, slow enough to make her stomach clench again. He took in every curve, the way her nipples pressed hard against her top, the way she couldn’t keep her thighs still anymore. His voice dropped to something that touched her like a hand, “Thoughts ran through my mind…” He took one breath. Let it sit, “Like damn. I know she taste real good.”
Her knees almost buckled.
“I’d slurp her up. Dip my tongue in that pretty pink puss…”
A soft sound escaped her throat, almost too faint to hear, but he caught it. Her eyes went dreamy, unfocused, pupils blown wide. Her lips stayed parted. Her chest trembled.
She was ruined.
Standing there with her back against the wall, sweating under the intensity of him, panties soaked through, nipples hard enough to ache, breath coming in shallow, shaky pulls because she had never been this turned on without a single touch.
“You like the way I’m talkin’ to you, lil baby?” His voice was dark silk, slow and dragging, dipped in something slick that made her toes curl. Sanaa nodded, slow and dazed, her body answering before her brain could catch up. Erik tsk’d. A low sound of disappointment that made her shiver, “Uh-uh,” he said, tilting his head slightly, eyes burning into hers, “Open your mouth. Don’t act mute now. You had a lot of shit to say earlier.”
It took effort to speak. Her lips parted around a tiny whisper, “Yes.”
He smiled at that. Not a kind smile. Not a gentle one. It was a smile that showed he had her exactly where he wanted her. Made her panties feel wetter than she even thought possible.
“Why you want me so bad?” he asked, licking his bottom lip slow, “Tired of the same old sorry ass dick?”
Her mouth fell open slightly, eyes heavy-lidded. He saw the answer before she gave it, but he wanted to hear it anyway.
“You wanna see what I can do to that pretty pussy?”
Sanaa shifted where she stood. Her hips rocked forward a little, like her body needed to move, needed to do something about the ache pooling in her core. She bit her lip, then nodded once—then again, slower, “Yes.”
Erik’s voice dipped lower, rougher now, dragging the words out like he wanted her to feel each one between her legs, “Want me to open you up?”
Sanaa’s back arched slightly, nipples hard as diamonds beneath her shirt, brushing against the fabric with every breath she took.
“You ain’t scared it’s gon’ be too much?”
She tilted her head the tiniest bit, tongue resting in the corner of her mouth, her expression hazy and thick with heat. Her lashes fluttered as her gaze dropped, then lifted back to his, “Mmm mmm.”
His eyebrow arched, “What’s mmm mmm?” he asked, smile deepening with a hint of threat, “I don’t know what that is. Words.”
Sanaa blinked slow, eyes low, lips wet, “No, daddy.”
Erik’s jaw twitched. He bit down on his bottom lip, those gold slugs gleaming just behind it, nostrils flaring slightly as he inhaled through his nose. Her calling him that—soft, sweet, no hesitation—sent a pulse straight to his dick. She dripping, trembling, got her mouth half-open like she’d been fucked already.
“Oh,” he said, voice rough and low, “Shit…so you ain’t scared then?”
The way she said it? Soft but certain. Sticky sweet like syrup down the back of his throat. Her pupils were blown wide, lips kiss-swollen, and the front of her panties now damn near ruined—wet enough she’d have to peel them off. Erik pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and bit down on his lip again, hard this time, fighting the urge to devour her right then and there. She was ready. He could see it in the glassy look in her eyes. He could smell it between them. Could feel it in the heat she was radiating off her skin like steam rising from a kettle.
All this?
Just from his voice.
Erik’s fingers hooked in the hem of her shirt. Slow. Intentional. He lifted it just high enough to expose the waistband of her panties—black, flesh-hugging, soaked straight through in the center. His eyes lingered. He just looked. Took his time like a man admiring something he already knew he was about to own.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath, “Got this lil’ pussy cryin’. She know who it belong to.”
Sanaa’s tied to ease the ache, squirming, but it only made it worse.
“Uh uh,” he said, nudging her thighs apart with just the press of his knee between hers, “Don’t hide that shit. Lemme see what I did.”
She didn’t move away. Her body didn’t resist. She let him part her legs, just slightly, standing in front of him like a girl about to be unwrapped.
He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear, voice thick, “I’m gon’ stretch you, Sanaa. Real slow. Real deep. Make sure this tight lil’ pussy remember me.”
She whimpered. Actually whimpered. It spilled out unplanned, soft and sweet, like her body responded before she could stop it.
Erik grinned against her jaw, grazing her skin with the tips of his teeth. “Yeah,” he drawled, “you gone learn tonight.”
Then he stepped back just a little. He ran his thumb over one hard nipple slowly, watching the way her lips parted like it shocked her, how her hips tilted like her pussy was clenching again.
“You this sensitive?” he asked, low and amused, “Wait til’ I taste this pussy. You gon’ melt when I do.”
Sanaa nodded, lips glossy, voice barely a whisper, “Please…”
He smirked, eyes still locked on her, “Please what?”
She swallowed, “T-Touch me…”
Erik’s head tilted, tongue dragging slow across his bottom lip, “Where you want me to touch you, baby?”
Sanaa’s lips quivered. Her body leaned into his like she couldn’t hold herself upright anymore.
“My pussy,” she whispered, followed by a soft whine.
“Mmm.” He let out a low hum, eyes never leaving hers, “Say it louder. I need to know you mean that shit.”
She hesitated, only for a second. Then she looked him dead in the eye and said it again—this time stronger. Hungrier.
“Touch my pussy, daddy.”
His hand was on her before she finished the word. One broad palm slid down the front of her panties, cupping her through the soaked fabric. Warm. Heavy. In charge. His fingers pressed in, just enough to feel the heat, the pulse, the mess she’d made. He groaned low in his throat.
“Goddamn, girl…you wet like I already been in it.”
Sanaa’s eyes fluttered.
He slid a finger beneath the waistband, dipped in slow and deep until he touched her bare. Wet and slick. His finger slid through the mess she’d made, knuckle deep, and her mouth dropped open in a silent cry.
“There it go,” Erik rasped, “Told you I was gon’ open you up.”
Sanaa whimpered again, thighs shaking, her body trying to close around his hand, but he held her still. His finger worked deeper, curved just right, and her back arched, hands gripping his forearms like she needed to hold onto something solid.
“You feel that?” he said, voice thick, “That stretch?”
She nodded fast, moaning through clenched teeth.
“Don’t run,” he warned, voice a deep growl, “I’m not even two fingers in. I’m just warmin’ you up.”
Sanaa was panting now. Sweating. Dripping, “Erik…”
He kissed her neck. Then sucked it. Let his teeth graze her skin as he slid another finger inside.
She gasped, loud this time.
He smiled, “There she go.”
Her body jerked. She was clenching around his fingers, wetness coating his palm now, and Erik just kept working them in slow, deep strokes. It was pressure and rhythm and filth.
“You said teach you how to take it, right?”
She nodded, desperate, whimpering.
“Say it again,” he growled in her ear, thumb now circling her clit slow.
“Teach me, daddy,” she cried, voice shaking. “Please—show me how to take it.”
“Oh I’ma show your greedy ass. And you bet not forget a single stroke.” He pulled his fingers out, soaked and shining, then brought them to her lips, “Taste what I do to you.”
She didn’t even hesitate. Mouth opened. Tongue out. She sucked his fingers clean while moaning, eyes rolling back just a little from the taste. Erik’s dick jumped hard in his sweats.
“Yeah,” he whispered, voice low as hell, “You mine now.”
Sanaa whimpered.
Erik’s dick brushed her belly through his joggers, thick and heavy, and her breath hitched on impact. She felt it, hot through the cotton, thick enough to make her blink slow and look down. The print was obscene. Long, fat, with the kind of weight that made her thighs tense again. Her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth like instinct, lips parting on a shaky breath. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. Erik saw the way she looked. The way her gaze dropped and stayed there.
“Go ‘head, miss greedy. Rub me.”
Sanaa’s hand moved on its own. She brought it down between them and pressed her palm against the thick ridge stretching his joggers.
The heat met her first.
It was warm through the fabric—almost hot—and stiff as hell. Thick. Her fingers trembled when they brushed the full weight of it. Not just long but wide, heavy, meaty in a way she wasn’t used to. It curved slightly to the left from being trapped and she could feel the exact shape of it pressing into her palm even through the joggers. Her whole hand didn’t wrap around it at first. She had to adjust her grip, slide her palm across the length of it and back again.
“Shit…” she moaned.
She hadn’t meant to say it. But it slipped out anyway, whispered under her breath as her fingers stroked over the bulge again. She applied more pressure. Felt it throb in response. The whole thing jumped against her hand and she froze for a second, thighs clenching, her pussy clenching too. Sanaa stared, mesmerized. Watching the way her fingers moved over the thick ridge, seeing the way it swelled, how the head of it sat high and proud against the front of his joggers. That tip had a little dent where the fabric gave in, already damp from the precum leaking steady beneath. She gave a slow stroke up, then back down, palm flat. Then she did it again, this time wrapping her fingers just a little, rubbing it like she was warming it up. The way it twitched told her everything. That dick was alive. Pulsing in her grip. Hard as hell and still growing.
“This dick big as fuck…” she whispered, eyes wide, lips parted.
Erik grinned, head tilting just enough to let her see the glint of gold across his teeth, “Uh-huh,” he said, deep and smug, chest rising slow, “And that’s before I even pull it out.”
Sanaa just kept rubbing. Her thumb traced the vein she could feel through the fabric. Her fingers closed tighter, sliding down toward the base. He was thick all the way through. No taper. No mercy. The feel of him in her hand was almost too much. Panties growing uncomfortable and sticky against her folds. Every slow drag of her hand across him made her clench tighter, made her want more. Her body reacted on instinct, hips shifting, breath catching.
She wanted to see it. Needed to see it.
She let her fingers linger low, pressing just under the head. The wet spot was bigger now. She felt it with her thumb and let out a soft breath.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
Erik watched her, eyes dark with amusement, “That wetness yours or mine?”
She blinked. Looked up at him with that same dazed heat in her eyes.
“Both,” she said, almost too quiet.
That made him smile harder. He reached down and gripped the waistband of his joggers, “You wanna see what you been rubbing on?”
Sanaa nodded, hand still holding him.
“Say it,” he said, “Ask for it like a good girl.”
She hesitated only a second, then licked her lips, “Lemme see your dick, daddy.” She damn near begged, slightly tugging downward on his length.
He dragged his joggers down halfway low enough to free the monster she’d been teasing.
And there it was.
It dropped out, heavy and thick, no underwear in the way. Thick at the base, even thicker near the middle, and the head was fat and flushed dark with blood. A glistening bead sat right at the tip.
Sanaa’s breath caught in her throat.
It was the kind of dick that made you pause. Long and pretty, veins rising along the sides like a roadmap for the way he was about to rearrange her guts.
She stared. Couldn’t look away.
“You still greedy?” Erik asked, Brow arched. Lips slightly parted and gold slugs peaking.
Sanaa nodded slowly. Her hand moved again, fingers wrapping around him bare this time. The difference was insane. She felt the skin glide under her palm. The heat of it. The throb. She gave one slow stroke down and felt the weight pull. Another stroke up. Her thumb swiped the leaking tip. His whole body flexed.
“You sure?” he asked again, eyes steady on hers, “Cuz once I put this dick in you, you not gon’ be the same.”
Sanaa moaned, low and desperate, “I don’t wanna be the same…”
Erik grinned, “Say less.”
Erik brought his hand up and wrapped it around the side of her neck. His palm was warm against her throat, thumb resting right beneath her jaw, fingers spread behind her ear, holding her still. Sanaa’s breath hitched when he leaned in close, his face inches from hers. So close she could feel the heat of his breath, the slow drag of it over her mouth. His nose brushed hers—once, then again—and she let her eyes flutter closed. His lips hovered over hers, soft but never touching. The anticipation made her knees weak,
“Breathe,” he whispered.
She did. Shaky and shallow.
Their mouths finally touched—barely. A soft graze. A tease. Sanaa’s lips parted with a soft gasp. Her body leaned into him more, anticipating the connection. He held her there, right on the edge, the tension sharp enough to snap. Then—slow—he stuck his tongue out and dragged it across her lips. Just once. Just enough to make her moan. The sound came from her gut. A low, feminine ache slipping past her throat like her body couldn’t keep it in.
Erik chuckled low. The sound rumbled between them. His thumb lifted slightly, tilting her chin, “Open.”
That one word held weight. It rolled off his tongue like a command.
And she obeyed.
Her lips parted, her mouth pliant and waiting. She just gave herself to it—whatever this was. The gravity between them. The way it pulled. Erik’s lips met hers in full this time. Hot and slow. Tongue first, pushing past the seam of her lips, tasting her, pulling her under.
Sanaa melted.
Her mouth opened wider to meet his. Their tongues met in the middle—slick and slow, sliding over each other like silk. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like he was determined to make her feel every second of it. Their lips smacked softly in the quiet of the hall. A slow grind. Deep pulls of breath between them. Sanaa’s hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into his tank top. Her head tilted to the side, and Erik followed her movement, adjusting the angle like they were dancing.
Because that’s what it felt like.
A dance.
Their mouths moved like partners—tilting, swaying, deepening. Every time they came up for air, they went right back in. Lips brushing, then sealing. Tongues swiping, teasing, pressing. His hand never left her throat. His thumb stroked slow under her chin while his other hand slid down her waist and pulled her closer. Her body molded against him now. She kissed him like she’d been waiting years for it. He tasted like power and something a little risky. Sanaa moaned again, louder this time. Erik swallowed it. Kissed her harder. He deepened the kiss, sucked her bottom lip, then dragged his tongue along it again. Her knees buckled, and he caught her with a firm hand around her waist.
“Uh uh,” he whispered into her mouth, “I got you.”
He kissed her again before she could answer. Tongue diving, then pulling back, then diving again. He kissed her like he was mapping her, like her mouth had secrets only he could read. Every soft moan, every tremble, every breath she took, she gave it to him. Their foreheads touched for a moment when they finally broke the kiss, breath mingling, lips still brushing.
Neither of them spoke. The kiss said it all. Sanaa couldn’t breathe right.
Her lips were swollen from the kiss. Her chest heaved in soft, shallow bursts. She tried to steady herself, tried to blink the haze away, but her body betrayed her. Her hands trembled. Her knees? Useless. She was trying to keep it together, but the pressure between her legs was unbearable now. It throbbed—hot, slick, begging. And she ain’t even had the dick yet. Her pussy already felt like she’d been touched and worked over and left wet and needy for more. She took a step back, hoping it would help her catch herself, but that only brought her closer to the wall and Erik followed. Didn’t even give her space to speak. He saw her trying to breathe through it. Saw her lips twitching like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. His gaze dipped to her chest, watching the rise and fall. Then back to her lips. His jaw ticked.
That was all the warning she got.
Suddenly, Erik’s arms were around her, solid and sure. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, gripping her thighs and hoisted her clean off the ground.
All muscle. All power.
He handled her like his arms were made for it. Because he’d been waiting for the moment he could lift her, press her against something, and kiss her breath away again. Sanaa gasped, arms wrapping around his shoulders on instinct. Her legs spread and clung around his waist, locking behind him.
“Erik—”
She barely got the name out before his mouth crashed back into hers.
This kiss wasn’t gentle.
This one was hungry.
Messy.
Hot.
Lips sliding, tongues dancing, breath stealing. He kissed her like he was feeding off her. He needed the taste of her just to breathe. Her back slammed gently against the door to her bedroom. The sudden jolt made her moan against his mouth. He gripped her tighter. One hand under her thigh, the other sliding up her back to hold the back of her head as he kissed her deeper. Tongues tangled. Lips smacked. She was losing track of where her body ended and his began. Her pussy pulsed hard behind her panties, slick and ready, soaking through the fabric and no doubt pressing into the front of his joggers. She was riding that line between need and madness now, whimpering into his mouth, clinging to him like she couldn’t get close enough.
His voice broke through the kiss in pieces, heavy against her lips, “You tryna hold it together?” he asked, his mouth brushing hers, breath hot.
Sanaa nodded against him, then shook her head, then nodded again. She didn’t know. Her brain was gone. He kissed her again. A deep, slow drag of tongue that made her stomach flip and her toes curl behind his back.
“Nah,” he breathed, “Don’t fight it. Let that shit go.”
Erik grinded against her as he said it. Letting her feel every inch of that heavy dick pressed against the throb between her legs. Sanaa moaned into his mouth again. Her legs tightened around him like a vice. She tried to hold back, tried to stay quiet, but it was impossible. He kissed her again and again and again, each time deeper, messier, wetter. Their mouths didn’t separate for more than a second. They kissed like they were possessed. Both starving and just found their first meal. The door behind her rattled. Her bedroom. She reached back blindly and fumbled for the handle. Erik chuckled against her lips, still kissing her, and grinding that big dick against her soaked core through their clothes.
“Go ‘head,” he said, dragging his lips down her jaw, “Open that door and show me where I’m ‘bout to fuck your lil’ ass up.”
Sanaa’s fingers shook as they found the handle.
Click.
The door swung open behind her. And Erik walked them in. Still holding her and kissing her like he owned every breath in her lungs.
He didn’t slam it.
He cracked it. Left it open just enough. He wanted the night to hear what was about to happen. He needed the air to move around them, carry the scent of her arousal into the walls. Sanaa’s back hit the bed gently as he laid her down. His hands lingered, holding her there for a second, palms wide on her thighs like he wasn’t ready to let go. Her chest rose, lips plump from all the kissing, her body twitching beneath him like it didn’t know what to do with itself.
She was breathless. Eyes glassy. Skin hot.
“Damn…” she whispered, blinking slow.
Erik stood over her, tall and dark in the shadows of her room, chest rising as he took in the sight of her laid out like that—hair fanned against the pillow, shirt tugged up just enough to show a strip of brown stomach, panties sticking to her soaked pussy like a second skin. He licked his bottom lip and shook his head once. Then he stepped between her legs.
She opened for him without thinking.
He reached down and grabbed her calves, both hands gripping firm, thumbs brushing over the curve of her legs. Then his hands slid lower—one to her ankle, the other to her foot. He lifted her legs gently. Set one foot on his chest. The other he held in his hand, thumbing the arch slow while watching her.
Then he kissed her ankle.
Once.
Then again.
And on the third kiss, he looked down at her and spoke.
“Why you play in your pussy and not ask for help?”
The question hit like a thud in her chest.
Sanaa’s breath caught. Her ankle twitched in his hand and her toes curled against his abs. She gave a soft smile, trying to hide the way her pussy felt like it had a heartbeat of its own.
“How would you have helped?” she asked, voice low, teasing.
Erik leaned forward, bending her legs back as he closed the space between them. His mouth hovered near hers. He spoke it, voice dragging like it was made to melt her.
“I would’ve instructed you on how to stroke it…what toy to use…how to make yourself cum.” His lips brushed hers on the last word, then trailed down to her jaw, “And when you were done?” he whispered, “I would’ve cleaned up the mess with my tongue.”
Sanaa whimpered, mouth falling open. Her hips lifted slightly, grinding up without her even meaning to. Her panties clung to her like a wet towel and Erik could feel it—smell it. It had him rock hard, that big, fat dick of his pressing heavy against the damp cotton at her center. He leaned down between her legs, thighs spreading wide around his hips as he kissed her again. Deeper this time. Sloppier. His body settled against hers. That heavy dick dragging up against her slit, the pressure making her moan into his mouth.
Sanaa arched up into it.
She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him in, her hands sliding everywhere. Over his arms—thick, veiny, strong. Over his chest—broad and warm beneath his fitted tee. Up the back of his neck—fingers slipping under his locs, rubbing slow at the base of his scalp.
“I love your body,” she said it like a confession.
Erik pulled back just enough to look down at her.
That look he gave? Made her clit jump.
He cocked his head slightly, smiling like he knew he had her trembling and couldn’t wait to make it worse.
“What you love about it, baby girl?”
Sanaa sat up, chest pressed to his, legs still parted wide around his hips. Her hands traced the dip between his pecs, then slid across his chest—her nails soft against his tank, then down to his waist. She reached beneath the fabric and slowly lifted it up, revealing the warm brown muscle beneath, the ridges of his abs, the sharp taper of his V-line. She pulled the tank over his head and dropped it on the floor.
Then she touched him again.
This time with both hands, tracing the scars that ran across his torso and arms. Her fingers moved gentle over them, no hesitation. She looked up at him the whole time—eyes low-lidded, mouth parted, her voice still that sexy hush that wrapped around him all velvety smooth.
“I love the way you move,” she said, “How strong you are. How your arms feel when you carry me.” Her palm slid across his shoulder, then down his side, “I love your scars…they feel like stories.”
Erik swallowed, jaw flexing.
Then she leaned up and kissed one of the scars near his ribs. Her lips lingered, “And I love how dangerous you are.” Her eyes rose to meet his again. Slow. Steady. Full of something that made his dick twitch between her legs, “You don’t talk much. But I can feel it…all that heat underneath.”
Erik’s breath caught in his throat. His adam’s apple bobbed.
Sanaa tilted her head, voice even softer now. Sultry. Laced in that siren energy that made men forget who they were, “You’re the kind of man who ruins a woman right. That’s why I wanted you. Why I touched myself thinking about it. Why I waited for you to make the first move.” She leaned in close, lips brushing his, “You feel like danger,” she whispered, “And I wanna feel all of it.”
Erik’s hand wrapped around the side of her neck again. Gripped it firm, thumb brushing her jaw. He kissed her. Hard this time. Hungry again. Their bodies pressed close. That thick dick grinding right against her clit through the soaked barrier of her panties. Her back arched, moaning into his mouth.
Erik pulled back for just a second. His voice dropped, “You sure, princess?”
Sanaa smiled. And said the only word he needed to hear, “Fuck yes.”
Erik kissed her like he was claiming breath from her lungs, then finally pulled back just enough to look down at her. Sanaa lay beneath him on the bed, chest rising, lips wet, eyes heavy with that quiet hunger that made him lose focus. He placed one palm flat on her stomach. Firm. Commanding.
“Take this off,” he said quietly.
But he did it for her.
His fingers hooked into the hem of her shirt. He didn’t yank it. He lifted it slow, letting the fabric drag over her skin, letting the cool air kiss each inch that he revealed. Her stomach tensed. Her nipples hardened before he even reached them. The shirt rose up to her ribs. He leaned in and kissed the exposed skin there, soft at first, then deeper. His mouth trailed across her side, right beneath her breast. She gasped as he nipped lightly, then soothed the spot with his tongue.
He lifted the shirt higher. Her breasts spilled free.
Erik froze.
His eyes darkened, scanning every curve, every soft rise, every warm brown inch of her. He touched one breast with his fingertips, tracing the slope from the top down to her nipple. The touch was light but it woke something deep in her belly.
He brought his mouth down.
He sucked her nipple slow, drawing it between his lips. His tongue circled it. Pressure first, then a gentle pull. It made Sanaa arch, a tight breath escaping her throat. Her hands gripped his arms, fingers digging, nails dragging. Erik switched to the other nipple. He teased it with the tip of his tongue, then sucked harder. Sanaa whimpered, her thighs rubbing together, trying to calm the throb between them. He peeled the shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it aside. Then he looked at her body fully. Stretched on her bed. Glowing. Breathing fast. Ready for whatever he wanted. He slid down her body and kissed her collarbone. Then her shoulder. Then the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder. His lips lingered there, sucking gently until her breath hitched. His mouth lowered again, kissing down the center of her chest. He kissed under her breasts, along the edge of her ribs. Then he moved to her stomach. He kissed the top of it. Then the center. Then lower. His lips were warm and full against her skin. The glide of his mouth made her toes curl.
He dipped his tongue into her navel.
Sanaa moaned. A soft little sound she couldn’t hold back. Her fingers slid into his locs, gripping the thick, twisted cords, rubbing his scalp as he continued moving downward. Erik kissed the soft flesh just above her panties. His breath brushed the damp cotton, and she shivered. He kissed the left hip. Then the right. Then the inside of her left thigh. He didn’t just kiss her thighs. He worshiped them with his mouth. He opened her legs wider and kissed slowly, all the way down to her knee, then back up, tracing the line of her inner thigh with the flat of his tongue. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably. He looked up at her, saw her chest rising sharp and quick, saw her lip caught between her teeth.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I see how bad you want it.”
He kissed the right thigh the same way. Long, wet, dragging kisses that made her hips jump. Her hands tightened in his locs. She tugged at the roots. Scraped his scalp lightly with her nails. He groaned into her skin. When he lifted his head, his mouth was inches from her center. He pressed his face there, right against her pussy through the fabric.
And inhaled deep like he wanted her scent in his lungs. Sanaa let out a broken sound, her hips rising into his face, needing more contact.
“Smell so damn sweet,” he said against her. His warm breath spread through the soaked cotton, “you been wet long enough. Marinated long enough,” He chuckled softly.
She moaned again, fingers tightening in his locs.
Erik hooked his thumbs into the sides of her panties, “Lift your hips.”
She obeyed instantly. Like her body was wired to follow directions.
He pulled the panties down slow. Painfully slow. The fabric peeled away from her pussy, sticking slightly from how wet she was, stretching, then snapping free.
He froze.
The panties stayed between his fingers, hanging useless, because he could not look away from what he saw. Her pussy glistened in the low light. Warm brown lips full and soft. Slightly parted from how swollen she was. Her inner lips peeked out, darker, slick with clear arousal. A drop fell as he watched. Another followed behind it, sliding down toward the curve of her ass.
He raised his brows, “Goddamn.”
His voice was low. Rough. Real.
Her pussy looked tender and inviting. Puffy with heat. Shiny and wet. Beautiful in a way that pulled his breath straight from him.
He looked up at her before he spoke, “You this wet for me?”
Sanaa nodded, eyes glossy. He let the panties fall to the floor. Erik slid his hands under the backs of her thighs and lifted them, opening her wider, exposing everything.
He stared.
Then he spoke it, “This the prettiest pussy I ever seen.” His voice dropped lower, almost like he was confessing something he couldn’t hold, “Puffy. Look at how it’s glistenin.” He ran one finger along her outer lips, barely touching, watching the wetness coat his skin, “You stayin wet like this for me…” He shook his head. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ drip like this.”
He pressed two fingers to her entrance. Her pussy opened for him.
Stretching.
Welcoming.
Sanaa gasped.
Erik licked his lips, “Yeah,” he whispered, “You perfect. A nigga could lose his mind between these legs.” He lowered his head until his mouth hovered right above her center, “Spread yourself for me, baby,” he said, “Lemme see you open.”
Sanaa’s hands trembled as she reached down and parted herself.
Erik inhaled again.
Then his tongue slowly descended.
Erik lowered his head and let the tip of his tongue barely touch her. One flick. Right over the top of her clit. Not a lick. A wet flick. A warm, precise, taunting stroke that sent a sharp jolt through her hips. Sanaa gasped, thighs twitching. Her back arched off the bed just enough to chase more contact, but Erik pulled back.
Just like that.
He bit his lip and sat back on his heels, eyes glued to her pussy like it was his favorite thing he’d ever seen.
And honestly? It might’ve been.
That drip…fuck...
It slid from her again. Clear. A warm, sweet string of arousal that leaked from her swollen folds and shined in the low light like melted sugar. He reached up, scrubbed a hand down his beard, jaw tight, eyes heavy with lust. His lips parted slightly, tongue peeking out to taste the last of her off his mouth.
Then he exhaled, real low, “Shit.”
His voice had that Oakland weight to it now—gritty, smooth, full of bass and control. He leaned in just enough to speak against her slick lips, breath hot and filthy.
“How you touch this pretty pussy, baby?”
Sanaa didn’t speak at first. She didn’t need to.
Her hands moved down between her thighs, slow and deliberate. French-tipped nails—soft pink, perfectly shaped—grazed her inner thighs first. Then she reached lower and spread herself open again.
Her fingers were glossy within seconds.
She slid two over her clit in slow, small circles, eyes never leaving Erik’s. Her head tilted slightly to the side, mouth open just enough to breathe. She rested on her elbows, legs bent, toes curled. Her body moved with the rhythm of her own fingers. Gentle rolls of her hips, each one drawing a soft sound from her throat. Needy. Angelic.
“You watching?” she whispered, voice sticky with heat.
Erik’s jaw clenched. His eyes stayed on her hand. The way her fingers moved, the way she pulled her folds apart, then spread the wetness down and circled again for a slicker glide. It was a performance, but not for applause.
It was for him. All for him. Fot thr man she'd daydreamed would see her spread open and waiting. wanting. Like she was his ultimate present.
“Mmm,” he growled low, “That’s it. Rub on that clit, greedy girl.”
Sanaa moaned.
She tilted her hips again, her fingers stroking tighter circles now, teasing the peak, pressing into it like she needed to cum from just that alone. Her thighs trembled slightly. Her breaths came quicker; faster.
“There you go…” Erik said, voice full of grit, “Make that pussy feel good.”
Her brows pinched like she was already close. Her other hand came up to cup her breast, pinching the nipple, lips parting in a breathy moan. Eyelids fluttering soft.
“Look at your fine ass…” he said, licking his lips slow, “This what you do when you think about me?”
She nodded, eyes hazy, locked on his like she was drunk off lust. Her fingers never stopped moving.
“Yeah, you be playin in that pussy, huh?” Erik grinned, watching her squirm, “All quiet in the house, rubbin on that clit thinkin’ bout this big dick?”
“Uh huh,” she moaned, rolling her hips again.
He leaned in slightly, close enough to feel the heat off her, “Show me more then ,” he said, “Spread that fuckin' mess. Let me see how wet you stay for me.”
Sanaa’s fingers dipped down, slid through her folds, then up again. The shine on her hand was ridiculous.
“Good girl,” Erik praised, voice heavier now, “Good girllll…yeah, that’s it. That's it good girl...mmm...”
His eyes dropped back down to her center, lips parted. He dragged a hand over his mouth again like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His tongue peeked out and ran across the edge of his lip.
“Goddamn.”
She was dripping. Actively. Wetness gliding over her fingers. Gliding over her folds. Thick, warm, glistening. Her pussy looked edible. Fat, warm brown lips parting just enough to reveal the deeper blush of her inner folds. Everything was glossy. Her clit was peeking, swollen, begging for more pressure. Her fingers spread her open again, and Erik let out a groan from deep in his chest.
“You got the prettiest fuckin pussy I ever seen, girl.” He shook his head again, breathing heavy, “I’m talkin’…this shit got character to it” He reached out and pressed two fingers gently against her thigh, steadying himself like he needed to ground his body before he lost it, “Pussy got some memory. I can tell. won't ever forget this”
Sanaa’s breathing turned shaky, her lips parting again as she kept rubbing soft and slow.
“You tryna make me eat it or what, huh?” he asked, voice all gravel and temptation.
She nodded, biting her lip.
He smirked, “Nah,” he said, “You ain’t askin’ right. What I tell you ‘bout that? open your mouth”
Sanaa locked eyes with him, still rubbing, voice barely there, “Eat it, Daddy. Please eat it...”
Erik’s face changed.
Sanaa’s fingers were still glistening when she pulled them from between her thighs. The scent of her arousal was thick in the air now—sweet and warm, dripping with heavy lust, the kind of wet-wet that left streaks on her inner thighs and sticky glimmers on her skin.
Erik didn’t even have to ask.
She raised her hand to his mouth, still leaned back on her elbows, hair falling over her shoulder in that silk-pressed curtain that framed her face just right. Her lips parted, teeth catching the corner of her bottom lip. That quiet freak energy wrapped around her like perfume. No theatrics. Just power. And that power was real.
She held her fingers out to him. Shiny. Wet. Beautiful.
“Come get it,” she whispered softly.
Erik leaned forward, gaze locked on hers. His mouth opened slow. He pulled two of her fingers between his lips and sucked.
His tongue glided between the pads of her fingers, tasting the mess she made for him. He moaned low—barely audible but heavy with need—and closed his eyes for a second like it was better than anything he’d ever had on his tongue.
“Shit,” he spoke with a low rasp under his breath when her fingers slipped free.
Sanaa just smiled. Bit her lip again. Her legs spread wider. She lay back, still propped up on her elbows, legs bent at the knees. Her pussy glistened like a flower blooming in sunlight—folds soft and full, parted just enough to show off the glossy blush of her inner lips. It looked kissed already. Sticky and warm. Nectar pooling and dripping down like a puddle.
Erik slid down the bed and settled between her legs.
He didn’t dive in. He had a routine. A rhythm. A way he did this that couldn’t be rushed. He didn’t eat pussy like a boy still trying to impress. He ate it like he knew the power of it—how to control it, how to command it, how to unlock the kind of orgasm that rewired a woman’s brain. The shit was an art form.
He started with kisses.
Not just kisses—ticklish kisses. Featherlight. Barely there. The type of kiss that made goosebumps rise over your skin. The first one landed just above her clit. Not on it. The next? Just to the side. Then another on her inner thigh. Then right at the curve of her folds. His lips moved like he was tracing the shape of her pussy with his mouth. Each kiss sent sharp little sparks dancing down her thighs, curling into her toes.
Sanaa gasped. Then whimpered. Her thighs jerked, “Baby…” she moaned out.
Erik smirked against her skin. He kissed her clit next. Not a suck. Not even pressure. Just a warm, slow peck.
Then another. Slower.
Sanaa’s stomach clenched. Her elbows dug into the mattress, trying to keep her grounded.
Then came the licks.
His tongue flattened and dragged upward, slow and wide, collecting every drop of wetness from the bottom of her slit to the tip of her clit. He tasted her like he’d been waiting months. The sound of his tongue sliding through her folds was filthy. He ain't wanna miss a drop.
And she was soaked. Dripping wet. It didn’t matter how much he licked—there was more. Every time his tongue made contact, a new stream coated her lips. It was like her pussy was responding to him directly. Like it knew he was worthy and wanted to give him everything. Her folds opened more under his tongue. Swollen. Shiny. Beautiful. Like butterfly wings slick with nectar. Erik couldn't believe how good she tasted.
He pulled back for a second just to look. Licked his lips slow, “Fuck…”
Then he leaned in again. He parted her with his thumbs, exposing the soft pink flesh beneath. Then he sucked.
Soft. Tight. Right on the clit.
Sanaa’s entire body twitched. Her hips tilted off the bed like she was trying to get more of it—trying to grind into his face.
“Unh…” she moaned, voice all air and ache.
Erik held her thighs steady. Gave another slow, wet suck.
“You like that, huh?” he asked, voice low and gritty, “When I suck you like that? Right on that clit?”
Sanaa’s lips curled into a half smile. She bit her bottom lip again, chest heaving, legs trembling, “Yes, daddy,” she said, soft and sexy, hips tilting toward his mouth.
He chuckled deep, “I could suck all this wet off you and it’ll just come right back, huh?”
Sanaa nodded. Licked her lips. Her voice was like silk, “Cuz you make my pussy so wet,” she whispered, “It’s crazy…”
Erik sucked again. Softer this time. Slower. The sound of it echoed in the room—wet, filthy, perfect.
“Ain’t gotta worry if this dick gon’ slide in,” he said against her clit, “You already know it is, don't you?”
“Mhm…” she breathed, hips rocking gentle now. Her hands gripped the sheets, fingers twitching.
He kissed her again. Licked again. Sucked again.
Real slow. Real patient.
He was edging her. Dragging her to the edge then pulling back. Letting her drip. Letting her cream. Letting her feel every bit of it until her thighs were shaking and her voice was catching in her damn throat.
He wasn’t in a rush. He was about to teach her what it really meant to be eaten. Cuz ain't no way she knew. And her body told on her.
Sanaa didn’t know how long he’d been eating her. It could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been forever. Time melted the second Erik laid his mouth on her pussy. And now she was shaking. Soft moans spilling from her lips like her breath couldn’t keep up. Her body was right there—right on the edge—but Erik refused to let her go over. Edging her until he was satisfied.
He kept switching it up.
One moment, he was sucking—slow, wet, focused right on the hood of her clit. Soft pulls that sent heat zipping down her thighs, into her spine. Then he’d pause. Lick along her folds like he was just tasting for fun, dragging his tongue flat from bottom to top, barely touching that swollen center. Then he’d pull back and let her feel that absence. That ache. That almost.
Sanaa was trembling.
Her thighs kept clenching. Her hips couldn’t stay still. Her clit was throbbing—tight and swollen and begging for pressure. But Erik wasn’t giving in.
She whimpered. Rolled her hips again. Tried to catch his mouth. He pulled back and looked up at her, lips glossy, beard wet. His locs brushed her thighs as he shook his head slightly, “Ain’t had it like this before,” he said, voice low, gravel thick in his throat, “Look at the way you feedin’ this pussy to me.”
Sanaa moaned again—long, high-pitched and helpless.
Erik’s voice dipped even deeper, teasing and demanding all at once, “Grab me by the hair and feed me then…since you wanna be so fuckin’ greedy, girl.”
Sanaa’s hands dove into his hair like it was instinct. Both palms spread across his scalp, fingers gripping thick locs and pulling him into her pussy with a desperation she couldn’t hide. She tilted her hips just right, parting her thighs wider, shifting her center until her clit was perfectly seated against his mouth.
Erik groaned into her. Deep. Primal.
Then he licked. Not just a flick. Not a tease. He dragged his tongue up her slit in one long, firm stroke, then did it again—steady pressure, no breaks, no games. His hands grabbed her thighs and held them in place while he worked. Mouth open, tongue flattened, licking her from the inside out.
Sanaa gasped.
Then she started to ride.
Little movements at first. Hips lifting, rocking slow against the line of his tongue. Erik let her. He kept his mouth open, his tongue steady, letting her rub that clit wherever she needed.
And when she started grinding harder? When that pussy dragged with more force?
He slurped. Wet. Loud. Nasty. He wrapped his lips around her clit mid-grind and sucked.
Sanaa cried out. Her back arched. Her thighs shook.
“Keep eating my pussy…” she whimpered, voice high and broken. Needy. Desperate.
Erik sucked again, messier this time. His beard was soaked. His jaw flexed with every pull of her slick folds into his mouth.
Sanaa whimpered again. Then whispered, “Couldn’t wait for you to put those lips on me…”
Her voice was soft. Shaky. Full of that quiet ache that only came when a woman was losing control. Erik groaned against her. The vibration made her hips jerk. Made her legs try to close around his head. Made her breath hitch.
He held her open. Firm. Kept licking. Kept sucking on everything he could. Kept pulling those breathy moans right out of her chest like he was making music from her body. Sanaa’s head fell back. Her moans didn’t stop now. They were continuous. Light and airy, one after the next, like she couldn’t catch her breath between the waves of pleasure.
Her toes curled. Her fingers twisted in his locs.
And then she felt it. That creaming feeling.
It didn’t crash into her like an orgasm. It crept. Slow and intense.
A slow roll of warmth that started deep inside and spread outward. Her pussy started leaking thicker. Wetter. The glide against his lips turned slippery and heavy. Her clit swelled even more, and the pressure built like a drumbeat in her lower belly. Her pussy fluttered. She felt herself cream. Her muscles felt as if they were locking. Warm and thick, coating his mouth, his tongue, her own thighs.
She was still being edged and held on the brink. But her body didn’t care. It started giving him everything anyway. Giving in.
Erik pulled back just an inch. Just enough to let the mess drip down. Then he looked up at her again, eyes half-lidded, full of heat, “You feel that, baby girl?” he asked, licking his lips slow, “You creamin’ for me, greedy girl?”
Sanaa moaned so loud it turned into a broken whimper. She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks from the intensity, “I need it…” she whispered. “Please.”
Erik’s lips curved into a slow, filthy smile. Then he lowered his mouth again, “Say less, lil’ mama.”
Sanaa’s body was trembling.
She had one fist tangled in Erik’s locs, the other gripping the sheet beside her like her life depended on it. Her thighs wouldn’t stay still—kept flexing, twitching, trying to close around his head. But he had her. One thick arm slung across her lower stomach, holding her down. The other? He slid his fingers in. Slow. Two of them. Thick fingers that stretched her out like a dick. Her pussy swallowed him easy, wetness dragging down his knuckles before he even got halfway. That first push had her moaning—soft and high, like it caught her off guard.
But then he curled them.
Just right.
His fingertips pressed deep against her front wall, slow, measured strokes that dragged across her most sensitive spot like he knew exactly where to touch. The angle. The pressure. The rhythm.
Sanaa choked on a moan. Her back arched. Her breath stuttered. Her thighs started shaking harder. Erik smirked against her skin. He licked her clit once. Then again. Then again.
And then sucked.
All while his fingers pumped deep, curling every time he pulled back, like he wanted to draw her orgasm out by hand. The sound between her legs was filthy.
Wet. Sloppy. Creamy.
Every stroke made that mess louder. Slick fingers gliding in and out, dragging her cream with them, strings of it clinging between his knuckles and her folds. Her pussy pulsed around his fingers like it was begging to be filled and stetched.
“Yeah,” Erik rasped, licking her clit again, “You hear that shit?”
Sanaa moaned long and cracked, like her breath gave out halfway through.
“You fuckin’ creamy, baby,” he whispered against her, “Drippin all on my hand.”
He sucked her clit again but slower this time. Then he curled his fingers harder.
Sanaa yelped.
The sound shot out of her throat, then dissolved into a breathy moan. Her eyes rolled, mouth falling open, lips slick with spit. She was losing it. She tried to speak. Tried to say his name. But all that came out were broken little whimpers and gasps. She bit her lip hard. Tried to focus. But she couldn’t. Not when his fingers were stroking that spot like a rhythm, a pattern, a pressure designed to ruin her and her only. Not when his mouth was glued to her clit, tongue flicking in circles, then flattening, then sucking her swollen bud while his fingers fucked her. Especially not when her pussy was making a mess all over his hand, his mouth, the bed beneath her.
She whimpered pathetically.
Erik chuckled, tongue teasing again, “Aww,” he cooed, “My baby can’t talk?”
Sanaa shook her head, tears in the corners of her eyes. He kept going. Fingers pumping, curling. Tongue licking.
Then his voice dropped into something darker, “Say you want it.”
She tried. Her lips moved. No sound.
Erik kissed her clit, then pressed deep with his fingers, “Uh uh…say it with your pussy then.”
Her body responded.
Hard.
She clenched so tight around his fingers it made his breath catch. Cream poured out around them, sticky and wet, dripping down her crack, smearing across his palm.
Erik groaned into her, “Shit, baby…this pussy talk better than your mouth. Ain't that some shit?”
She squealed. Eyes crossing. Legs jerking. She was stuck. Sanaa was right there. Right there. Her clit pulsed under his tongue. Her pussy clenched around his fingers like it was starving for release. Her legs wouldn’t stop shaking, her stomach was tight, her moans were high and strained, leaking out one after the next like she was breaking apart breath by breath.
And Erik knew it.
He felt it in the grip of her body. He felt it in the thick cream sliding down his hand, in the way her pussy clutched and fluttered, trying to force the nut out without permission. He pulled his mouth from her clit, let his breath run hot over it instead. His fingers didn’t stop moving—but they slowed. Deep curls now. Pressure. Precision. Just enough to make her lose her damn mind without pushing her over the edge.
“Open your mouth,” Erik said, voice low and sharp, “Tell me what you want.”
Sanaa whimpered. Eyes glossy, face twisted in agony. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. She was shaking her head, trying to breathe, trying to speak—but her body was wrecked.
“You been wantin’ this, right?” he continued, fingers still stroking, “Been rubbin that pretty pussy thinkin’ about this tongue? This dick?”
Her lip trembled. Tears welled up and slipped down the sides of her face.
Erik kissed her clit again. Once. Real soft. Then he growled, “Open that mouth and say it. Closed mouths don't get fed.”
Sanaa’s breath hitched. Her hips jerked. She grabbed the sheets with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, trying to hold back the sob bubbling in her throat. But it was too much. Too much pressure. Too much edging. Erik saw her body start to seize, felt her cunt tighten hard around his fingers.
He stopped. Froze. And gave her a warning with a brow lifted.
“You push that nut out,” he said, deep and deliberate, “I’ma spank that ass.”
Sanaa whimpered again. A high-pitched sound full of pain and need. She clenched everything—legs, pussy, jaw—trying to fight it.
But she was desperate. So fucking close. She dropped her hand from her mouth and finally begged.
“Please,” she cried, voice cracking. “Please let me cum—please, Erik—Daddy—I need it—oh my God—I need it so bad—please don’t stop—please, I’ll be good—I’ll say whatever you want—just please…”
It came out all at once. Pathetic. Broken. Slurred through moans and sobs. Tears rolled down her cheeks now. Her mouth stayed open, shaking with every breath. She didn’t care how she sounded. She didn’t care how she looked.
She was begging for real.
Erik exhaled through his nose and leaned over her, voice low, close, thick with control, “Damn, mamas…” His fingers started moving again. Deeper. Slower. Curling right into that soft, soaked spot that had her clenching all over again, “I’m diggin in this pussy good, huh?”
Sanaa cried out—high and breathy. He slid back between her legs, kissed her clit softly while his fingers stroked slow and deep.
“That’s a good girl, That's my good little slut,” he whispered, tongue flicking her clit just enough to make her back arch, “Keep your legs open. Let me give you what you want.”
Her legs parted wider. Her hips tilted up. Her breath caught. And then...
“Cum for me,” Erik said.
And her whole body snapped. Her back arched off the bed, mouth open in a silent cry. Pussy clenching so hard around his fingers it pushed cream out in waves. Her thighs trembled. Her clit pulsed beneath his tongue. Her moans were messy, unfiltered—one long stream of
“ohmygodohmygodohmygod—Daddy—yes—fuck—yes—”
She came like her body couldn’t hold it anymore. Like the climax of an electric guitar.
Hard. Deep. Shaking. Her cream coated his fingers. Her pussy pulsed around them, wetness gushing, soaking his palm, the sheets, her thighs. And Erik just kept licking. Slow. Gentle. While she fell apart beneath him.
It was still happening. She was still cumming. Body shaking. Still losing herself in wave after wave of heat, pressure, release. Sanaa curled in on herself without meaning to—knees drawn in, arms folding across her chest like she was trying to hold herself together. But her body betrayed her. Her thighs trembled. Her feet flexed, pointed, curled again. Her back arched slightly, then trembled as it fell. Her hands opened and closed against the sheets. Her lip was quivering, bitten raw, and her eyes were squeezed shut like she was trying to survive something or remember it forever. Her moans had quieted. But her body was still screaming. Tears dried on her cheeks.
Erik didn’t say a word. He just looked at her. Looked down on her with an intensity so raw.
Looked at the way her legs twitched every time her pussy fluttered. Looked at the way her nipples stayed pebbled, trembling with the rise and fall of her breath. Looked at the tears streaking down her temples, the wild scatter of her silk press, her thighs glossy with cream, her lips parted but speechless. She looked ruined. Pretty. Small. Shaken. Like she had just been unlocked from the inside and didn’t know how to settle back into herself. Her pussy clenched around nothing, fluttering open and closed, messy with his saliva and her wetness, folds gleaming and tender.
Erik sat back on his heels. Silent. Watching. Breathing steady. His dick was so hard. Thick and pulsing and curved up in his joggers like it was ready to take what his mouth had primed. He didn’t even touch himself. He wanted to watch. He wanted to see what it looked like when his baby girl broke. When all that wet and all that cream came to the surface and shattered her. And he loved the way she tried to hide her face in the crook of her elbow. Cute. Real cute.
He reached forward and gently pulled her arm down, “Let me see you.”
She opened her eyes slowly. Glassy. Glowing. Doe eyed.
“Breathe,” he said.
She did. Barely. And Erik just watched her come back to earth. One breath at a time. He picked her up like she weighed nothing. All that slim-thick softness trembling in his hands, limp and light now that her body had been emptied out. Erik sat down at the edge of the bed and brought her with him, settling her in his lap, straddling him. Her legs draped over his thighs. Her bare, glossy pussy rested right against the thick ridge of his dick still straining inside his joggers. Sanaa’s arms hung loose around his shoulders. Her head leaned forward. She was still dazed. Trying to breathe. Her heart fluttered against his chest.
He kissed her, slow pecks to her lips. One. Another. Then another, right at the corner of her mouth. Big hands glided up and down her sides, from her waist to her thighs to her ass, grounding her. Stroking her like she was still coming down from a high and she was. Her skin was warm, flushed. Her mouth slightly parted. Her lashes fluttered low like she could barely keep her eyes open. She could hardly keep her head balanced.
“Catch your breath,” he said low, Another kiss, “Good girl…”
She inhaled like her lungs just started working again. Her eyes blinked open. Her mouth twitched into a hazy, breathy smile. Erik’s hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb stroking softly under her cheek.
“Wasn’t prepared for that, huh?” he said with that slick, knowing tone, “I know it. You ain't even gotta tell me.”
Sanaa whimpered in response. A breathy sound. Embarrassed. Wrecked. She shook her head just a little, but her body stayed slumped against his chest. Erik looked at her like he had every right to. Like she was his. Because he just unlocked something he knew nobody else had ever touched. He slid his thumb over her bottom lip and dragged it slow.
“What I tell you ‘bout all that tough talk?” he asked.
Sanaa didn't have the words. Her eyes were low. Lips swollen. Chest rising and falling with a shaky inhalation. Erik tilted her chin up just enough to make her look at him.
“Hmm?”
She blinked. Then finally, her lips curled, “…I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ else.”
He chuckled, low and deep, dimple's slightly peeking, “Yeah, aight.”
Then he kissed her again. But this one lingered. It was open mouths, warm tongues, his hand on the back of her head, holding her close. And when she moaned into his mouth, it was soft. Grateful. Weak. Like she was thanking him without saying a word. He could feel her pussy. Still blazing. The wet between her legs pressed right up against him. Bare pussy soft and creamy on the thick print of his dick through those joggers, still hard, still untouched. Erik didn’t move or grind up into her. He just held her in his lap and let her feel it. Let her sit right on it. One big hand cupped the back of her neck, thumb sliding slow along her nape. The other stroked down her spine, all the way to the small of her back. He kissed her again. Just lips brushing hers, lazy pecks, like he had nowhere to be but here.
Sanaa let out the quietest sigh.
Her body was still trembling a little. Her muscles tender. She was too sensitive. Her clit still tingled. She didn’t know if she could take more, but she wanted it, wanted him. She wanted to feel the weight of him inside her. And now the ache was growing again. She shifted in his lap. Just a little. Just enough to feel that pressure tease her slit. That thick ridge nudging her folds through the fabric. It made her pulse deep in her core. Her lashes fluttered. Her arms tightened faintly around his shoulders.
Erik smirked, “You tryna get it started again?” His voice was smooth, rich. Teasing.
Sanaa shook her head once, but it was a lie. The kind of soft, guilty lie that showed all over her face. She glanced down, like she couldn’t meet his eyes. Her lip was caught between her teeth again. Her thighs squeezed just slightly around him, embarrassed. Because she was dripping. Again. Wet all over his clothes. The mess between her legs was so obvious. Sticky, warm. And he ain't get in her pussy again.
He stroked her waist with both hands now. Then leaned in, nose brushing hers, “You just came, pretty girl,” he whispered, his lips hovering, “Body still shakin’…pussy still twitchin’…and you want more?"
Sanaa let out the smallest whimper.
He kissed the corner of her mouth again. His hands slid down to her hips. Held her there. Right above his dick. But didn’t let her grind. He just held her still.
“You want more, huh?”
She stayed quiet.
He tilted her head with his thumb under her chin.
“I said…you want more?”
Her eyes met his.
They were so pretty. Glazed. Her lips parted. Her voice was the quietest it had ever been.
“…yes.”
Erik grinned. That smug, deep grin like she just gave him the world. But he still didn’t move.
“You sure?” he asked, leaning in slow, lips brushing her cheek, “You was talkin’ all that big girl shit earlier. Got real quiet now.”
Sanaa let her head fall forward to hide against his neck. She nodded against him, lips pressed to his skin.
“Say it then,” he said, voice dropping. “Say what you want.”
She shook her head again, giggling soft in that breathless, bashful way. Too embarrassed to say it out loud.
He gripped her ass tighter.
“Open that pretty mouth and ask for it, baby.”
She lifted her face. Looked him dead in the eye, still shy, “I want it,” she whispered, “I want you.”
Erik leaned in closer, lips grazing hers. His hands slid up her back, fingertips teasing her skin, “You want this dick, huh?” he rasped.
Sanaa nodded. But that wasn’t enough.
He pulled back just enough to see her mouth move, “I wanna hear you say it. Say it like a good girl.”
She swallowed. Her voice was like syrup now. Sweet, needy, “Please, Erik…I want your dick.”
He kissed her once. Deep. Then pulled back and whispered against her lips.
“Good girl.”
By the time Erik pushed her back onto the bed, Sanaa was already shaking with need.
From the way his hands handled her like he’d been starving and she was the first real meal he’d seen in years. He slid her down the mattress until her ass was right at the edge, thighs spread wide. Her pussy was open and slick, lips swollen and shining, already overstimulated from what he’d done to her minutes before.
She had already came once. Twice. Lost count.
Hard.
Her body still buzzing from it. Legs weak. Core trembling. That aftershock warmth still rolling through her like heat trapped under skin.
And Erik wasn’t satisfied. He needed more.
He dropped to his knees slow, big body lowering between her legs like it belonged there. His hands grabbed her thighs, thick fingers digging in, scars catching the light as he spread her wider. He leaned in close, breath hot against her pussy, close enough that she could feel him smile without seeing it. His beard tickled her.
“Aww, this lil pussy still jumpin? You that fuckin needy, huh?” Voice low, lips wet, tongue already sliding again like he ain’t give a fuck about her being overstimulated, “I just made you nut, and you still twitchin like you ain’t had enough. Greedy girl... so greedy.”
His tongue flattened out and dragged up her slit, slow and thick, from bottom to top, collecting everything she had to give. Sanaa cried out, hips jumping forward on instinct.
He caught her.
Strong hands pinned her thighs back, folding her open even more, holding her exactly where he wanted her. His mouth went right back to work, tongue circling her clit, slow at first, then tighter, firmer, like he was drawing patterns just to see how loud he could make her.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, fingers tangling in his locs.
He groaned into her pussy, the sound vibrating through her, making her thighs shake harder. He sucked her clit into his mouth, lips closing around it, tongue flicking fast now, mean and precise. Like he was mad at it. Like he was taking something out on her. Stealing her soul through her slippery tongue.
“You thought I was gon’ let shit slide?” he said against her, voice muffled, nasty, “After you had me hard like that? After you teased me? Like I wasn’t gon’ get you?”
She tried to pull away, the sensation too much, her body begging for mercy even while her pussy clenched around nothing.
He followed her. Stayed right there.
Kept his mouth locked on her, tongue deep, lips slick, sucking and slurping like he was trying to drain her. His hands slid under her ass, lifting her just enough to keep her right where he wanted her, sliding her closer to the edge when she tried to scoot back.
“Nope,” he said, calm as hell, “Where you goin? Didn't I say I was gon' get you?”
She sobbed, back arching, legs trembling in his grip. Her pussy throbbed, oversensitive, aching, begging for another release even though her body was still recovering from the last one.
“I’m tryin’—I’m tryna take it, I swear I am…” she cried.
“That’s fear talkin’. Pussy know better.” He tongued her like she owed him rent, “You started this. Now take what’s comin’.”
His tongue moved lower, dipping into her, licking her wet, greedy ass pussy like he was tasting her for the first time and the last time all at once. He ate her like he hadn’t had pussy in years, like he was trying to make up for lost time, mouth messy, sounds obscene, saliva mixing with her slick until everything was wet and loud.
Sanaa screamed.
Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling hard, but he didn’t budge. Flinch. Just tightened his grip on her thighs and kept going, scarred arms flexing as he held her open and helpless beneath his mouth.
“Still fuckin cryin. Still needy. That lil pussy talkin like she want another one. So I’ma give it to her.” he said, voice low and filthy.
Her pussy clenched hard, body betraying her again, another wave building too fast, too strong.
“Please,” she whimpered, barely a word, “P-P-Please…”
He smiled against her.
“That’s it,” he said, “Say it like that.”
Then he went back in, tongue ruthless, mouth full of her, sucking, licking, slurping like he was trying to pull her soul through her pussy. Her legs locked around his shoulders as she came again, harder this time, body going tight then loose, a broken sound tearing out of her chest.
He dragged it once through her slick, tasting her again like he wanted to remind her whose mouth this was. Sanaa gasped, a sharp sound tearing out of her chest as her hips levitated off the bed without permission.
Then he found her clit.
And that’s when she damn near lost her mind.
His tongue flicked over it precise. Strong. Controlled. Each stroke purposeful and full of intent, like he knew exactly how much pressure to use to make her unravel. He hit it again. Same spot. Same rhythm. Then switched it up just enough to keep her from getting used to it.
“Ooh, fuuuuck,” she cried, voice cracking, eyes squeezing shut.
He groaned low, mouth never leaving her. His tongue moved with gusto now, fast flicks followed by slow, heavy presses. He circled her clit tight, then flattened his tongue over it and dragged it back and forth with purpose, like he was trying to rub the sound out of her. Her legs shook hard in his grip, muscles trembling like they were about to give out.
“Ain’t even fuckin and you breakin. You sure you built for this?”
He sucked her clit into his mouth for half a second, just enough to make her yelp, then went right back to flicking it, tongue snapping over that little bundle of nerves with strength that made her whole body jolt. Sanaa sobbed, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, chest heaving, “I can’t take it,” she whined, hips rocking desperately into his mouth.
He didn’t let her move. His scarred arms locked her in place, palms pressing her thighs back, holding her open like this was exactly where she belonged. Every time she tried to squirm away, he followed her without missing a beat, tongue staying right on her clit like it was magnetized. Like it was glued to it.
“Nowhere to go,” he told her calmly, “You stay right here and feel this.”
His tongue worked her relentlessly. Flick. Flick. Slow press. Flick again. He switched the rhythm just when she thought she was about to explode, teasing her on purpose, keeping her right on the edge. The sensation was sharp and overwhelming, her clit pulsing under his mouth, begging for release even while it burned from how sensitive she was.
She cried openly now, soft broken sounds spilling out of her as her body shook beneath him, “Please,” she gasped. “Please, Erik.”
He groaned deep in his chest and went in harder, tongue moving faster, stronger, flicking her clit with strokes that made her vision blur. He licked her like he was angry at the time he’d gone without, like he was reclaiming something he’d already decided was his.
Her pussy clenched hard. Her back arched. Her cry turned loud as another orgasm ripped through her, body locking up, thighs shaking uncontrollably in his grip. Erik stayed right there on that spot, tongue still working her through it, jaw damn near locked, not letting up until she was completely undone, sobbing and shaking at the edge of the bed.
Her whole body was vibrating from the way he tore her up with that mouth. Sanaa had never been ate like that. Like he meant it and he was on a mission to take her apart and leave nothing behind but trembles and whimpers.
But it was what she saw next that really fucked her up.
Erik stood tall at the edge of the bed, his body carved like sin. Muscles tight. Scarred. Every inch of him looked like something designed to be feared and fucked. Deep ridges of healed wounds cut across his chest and abs, trailing down in chaotic beauty. His skin was rich—dark, smooth, gold-toned in places where the light caught him, that brown so pure it made her mouth water. A walked god.
And then he slid those damn sweats down.
Sanaa sat up fast, breath catching in her throat.
That dick…It was stupid.
Thick and long, heavy, the kind of dick that made you stop and blink just to make sure your eyes weren’t lying. The base was wide, sitting on a smooth trim of dark curls low cut, clean, just enough left to make it masculine. A faint scent of his skin, sweat, and that deep musk from his body hit her nose and made her clench all over again. The shaft was darker than the rest of him, with veins running up the sides, thick and raised, pulsing. He was hard. Rock hard. And the tip?
Sanaa damn near whimpered.
The head was plush, flushed deep burgundy, almost swollen from how hard he was. A thick drop of precum sat right at the tip, glistening, heavy, already threatening to spill down. That shit looked edible. Glossy. Beautiful. It curved just a little to the left, mean and perfect, the kind of dick you dreamed about but didn’t believe existed in real life. She was at eye level now. Kneeling on the bed, lips parted, dizzy from everything. Dizzy from the taste of herself still on her tongue. Dizzy from the fact that this dick—that big dick—was hers now. To play with. She couldn't be more excited.
Erik grinned down at her, lazy and cocky, his voice low, “Yeah?” he said, eyes locked on her, “You like this dick?”
Sanaa nodded, couldn’t even lie. Her mouth was already watering. He gripped the base with one hand and slapped the tip against his abs once, then let it drop—heavy—the weight of it alone made the air shift.
“Bigger in person, huh?” he smirked.
Her thighs squeezed together involuntarily.
“You want it?” he asked, “Come talk to it. Put it where it belong.”
She crawled closer, hands shaking, one rising to touch the thick base of him, fingers wrapping around but not quite meeting. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted.
He tilted his head, “Open that pretty mouth.”
She obeyed. Tongue out. He tapped the tip against her tongue once. Precum smeared on her lips, salty and warm, and her eyes fluttered.
“Good girl,” he said low, “You ready to learn?”
She nodded again, whimpering now.
“I’ma teach you how I like it sucked,” he said. “Take your time on my shit, girl. Slow.”
She wrapped her lips around the head, careful. Tucking her lips. The warmth of him filled her mouth, the size of it pushing her jaw wide already. Her tongue circled the crown, teasing the slit where he was still leaking. She moaned, loved how he tasted—clean, masculine, deep. She sucked slow, hollowing her cheeks, eyes fluttering shut as she took more in.
He groaned above her. A deep, rumbling sound from his chest, “Yeah… just like that,” he whispered, “There you go, baby. Suck it slow. Feel all of it.”
She eased down further, struggling a little with the stretch, but her hand stroked the base where her mouth couldn’t reach. Her spit dripped down the shaft already. She pulled off, let the head pop free with a wet sound, then licked up the underside, tongue tracing that vein like she was memorizing it.
Erik’s hand came down, gripped her head firm, “You want me to fuck your throat?” he asked, breath ragged, “Slow?”
She whimpered, nodding fast.
“You take this whole dick, I’ma lose my mind, Bri. I swear.”
She opened wide again, let him guide her back down, slower this time. Her lips stretched, jaw aching in the best way. He let her take control for a moment, let her find her rhythm—messy, wet, devoted—before he rocked his hips once, just a little, and her moan vibrated around him.
“Damn,” he hissed, “You tryna make me nut already?”
She looked up at him, eyes glassy, spit dripping from her chin. His dick slid out, covered in it.
He slapped it against her tongue again, “Keep goin’,” he growled, “I’m not done teachin’ you how to take me.”
She was takin’ her time with it.
Lips wrapped slow around the thick head of his dick, tongue moving like she was scared to miss a spot. Sanaa’s eyes fluttered open, big and glossy, locked right on his. She blinked up at him soft, all that pretty need showing in her face like she was trying to be good for him. Real good. Erik groaned low, hand resting heavy on her head, letting her work him.
Her lips popped off with a soft wet sound, a string of spit following before she wiped it away with her fingertips. She was breathing hard now. Mouth shiny. Face flushed. Then, like she was remembering something—something nasty—she whispered.
“Wait…”
He raised a brow, watching her crawl back toward the edge of the bed where her phone sat. The movement alone had his dick twitching again. She was down on her knees, just smooth brown skin, thighs glistening, and that pretty little pussy still wet and shining from how he ate her. Tits swaying softly with every breath, nipples tight. Hair hanging over one shoulder. That body? That body looked criminal. Like he should be arrested for the way he was about to fuck her face. She grabbed the phone and crawled back tantalizingly slow, hips swaying just enough to drive him out his mind. When she reached him, she sat back on her knees again, looking up at him like he was the only thing that mattered.
Her lip caught between her teeth. Her voice was sugar, “Can you record me?”
His head tilted, smile curling slow, eyes darker now, “You want me to put you on camera?” he asked, biting his bottom lip.
Sanaa gave a breathy little laugh, nervous and nasty at the same time. Her tongue slid across her top lip, catching the taste of him still there. She looked like a wet dream. Like a dirty little angel.
“I like it,” she said, eyes still on his, “More so when I don’t notice but…yeah.” Her lashes fluttered, “Please?”
Erik chuckled low, thick fingers reaching for her phone, “You somethin else,” he unlocked the camera, switching it to video. His dick stood tall and heavy between them, wet with her spit, “Aight then, freak.”
She smiled. Bit her lip again. He hit record. And she sank right back down.
“Yeah…” Erik said, voice low behind the camera, steady, “That’s it. Go slow. Take your time on daddy’s dick.”
Sanaa did exactly that. Mouth open, tongue out, she let the head of his dick slide back in like it was routine. She moaned soft, slurping up the precum leaking heavy from the tip like it was honey made just for her.
“That’s my girl,” Erik praised, his voice rich, close, like velvet on the speakers. “There you go. Keep suckin just like that. Pretty lips stretched all over me.”
She bobbed her head, spit coating the shaft. Her hand stroked what she couldn’t swallow yet. She was tryin. Workin' her jaw, cheeks hollowed, tongue swirling. The wet sounds filled the room, obscene and addictive.
“You look so damn good like this,” he said, angling the camera low to catch her face and the way she handled him, “Got my whole shit in your mouth like you ain’t just cry all over my tongue five minutes ago.”
She moaned around him. He caught it on camera.
“Yeah, let ‘em hear how messy you get. That’s right. Let that spit fall. Don’t clean shit up.”
She pulled off slow, letting the head pop out with another loud, nasty sound. Her chin was wet, lips puffy. She looked straight at the camera and licked the tip once—soft, seductive. Then whispered, “This mine now, huh?”
Erik’s voice dropped, “Yours to suck, mine to own. Keep goin’, Bri,” he growled, bringing the phone closer. “Show me how nasty you really are.”
And she did. Eyes up, lips wide, throat relaxing. She slid deeper this time, slow and skilled, sucking him like she wanted to stay there all night. Steady. Watching. Capturing every drip, every moan, every choke of spit sliding down her chin while she sucked him like her life depended on it. Erik had the phone angled just right. One hand holding the camera low, catching the sloppy view of her full lips wrapped around that fat dick, the other dragging slow through her silk press. Fingers gliding through the sleek strands like he owned every inch of her because right now, he did. She was on her knees between his thighs, head bobbing, spit dripping from her mouth, tears clinging to her lashes, that back arched, lifting that ass high off the bed. Sanaa was deep in it. Gagging sweet, eyes watery but focused, trying to take him slow like he asked. Hair swaying with the motion of her head bobbing. Gold hoops swinging pretty. Her hand stroked what her throat couldn’t swallow yet, and she moaned real soft around him when his thumb grazed her jaw. That shit had Erik losing his mind.
“Yeah…” Erik said low, voice thick with that gritty Oakland bass. “That’s how you fuckin’ eat it, nasty girl.”
She whimpered around the shaft, tongue flexing as she sucked deeper, the stretch of it making her jaw ache. And he felt all of it.
“That pressure good, huh?” he asked, tilting the camera down more, “You like suckin this big-ass dick, don't you?”
She pulled back, gasping, chin glossy. Then went right back down on it without hesitation, slower this time, more focused.
His voice dropped another octave, “Don’t run, baby. Take all that shit. I want it nice and wet. Make that shit glisten for me.” His thumb swiped her cheek, then tapped her jaw, “Look in the camera,” he said calmly, “Show everybody how you behave when this dick come out.”
She peeked up with those big, glossy doe eyes, lashes wet, pupils blown. And he grinned—that slow, evil grin that meant he was trouble.
“Good girl,” he said, breath thick, “That’s what the fuck I’m talkin 'bout. Pretty lil’ slut just made for head.”
She moaned again and he caught it all. The sound, the suck, the spit. His hand stayed in her hair, palm warm against her scalp, holding her in place. He wasn’t forcing shit. Erik really didn't need to. Sanaa wanted this. Needed it. She was putting in real work, tongue swirling, throat flexing, mouth loud and messy.
“Keep suckin, baby. You doin good. Real good.” He licked his lips, “Make love to that dick. I want it slow.”
She pulled off with a pop, lips red and glistening, panting through her nose.
And that’s when he hit her with it.
“Who dick you suckin’ on, slut?”
Sanaa blinked slow, pupils glassy, spit still clinging to her lips. She bit her bottom one, smiling like she wasn’t two seconds from choking on him.
Then whispered, “Killmonger’s big dick.”
Erik groaned low. Damn near laughed through it, “Aww, shit. That’s right.” He palmed the back of her head, guiding her back toward the tip, his voice deep and filthy, “Now shut up and show that camera how you love daddy’s dick.”
Erik’s palm slid to the back of her head, heavy and sure.
Commanding.
“Keep still,” he said, voice low, calm, that Oakland grit threaded through every syllable, “Let me do the work.”
Sanaa whimpered around him, lips already stretched, jaw aching sweet as he guided her down slow. His dick filled her mouth inch by inch, thick and warm, veins pressing against her tongue. She gagged softly when he pushed a little deeper, breath catching, eyes squeezing shut.
“Nah,” he said quietly, watching her, “Eyes open.”
She forced them open, tears clinging to her lashes, staring up at him while he eased his hips forward again. Slow thrust. Controlled. He wasn’t chasing nothing. He was taking. Her hands lifted on instinct, fingers twitching toward his thighs.
He caught it immediately, “Hands in your lap,” he ordered. “Don’t touch shit.”
Her hands dropped, trembling, palms pressing into her thighs like she was trying to ground herself. That made his chest tighten. Made his jaw clench.
“Good,” he said. “That’s better.”
He rocked his hips again, shallow thrusts at first, letting her mouth adjust, letting her tongue learn the shape of him while he stayed right at the back of her throat. She gagged again, wet and broken, spit spilling down the corners of her mouth and onto her chin.
“That’s it,” he said, eyes dark, watching her struggle in the prettiest way, “Take it. Don’t fight it.” His breathing changed. Deepened. Chest rising slower but heavier now. He rolled his hips back and then forward again, just enough to make her choke, just enough to make her moan around him, “Look at that,” he said, tone slick, satisfied, “On your knees like this. Mouth full of dick. Can’t even grab on for help.”
He pulled out slowly, the length of him sliding past her lips inch by inch until the head popped free with a wet sound. He didn’t give her a second to recover.
He slapped his dick against her lips once.
Twice.
The head smacked wet and loud against her mouth, leaving her lips glossy, swollen, stained with spit and precum.
“Open,” he said.
She did.
He tapped it against her tongue, smearing that slick heat across her mouth while she breathed hard through her nose.
“Yeah,” he continued, voice thick now, “This what you wanted. Got you on your knees suckin daddy dick?” His eyes dropped to where his scars cut across his chest and stomach, down to the way his dick rested heavy between them. He watched the contrast like it did something to him. Taut muscle. Ritual wounds. Thick, leaking dick. Her mouth waiting, “Pretty as hell like this,” he said, jaw flexing, “All quiet and obedient.”
He slid back in, deeper this time. His palm stayed firm on her head, fingers spreading through her hair, keeping her right where he wanted her while he fucked her mouth with controlled strokes. Each thrust was measured. Each pullback purposeful. He wasn’t losing control. He was enjoying it. She gagged hard this time, throat flexing around him, eyes watering bad. A broken sound came out of her chest and he felt it wrap around him.
“Shh,” he said softly. “Breathe through it. You doin good.” His hips kept moving, shallow to deep, slow to slower, a pace that made her body melt even while it overwhelmed her. Spit ran freely now, coating him, dripping down onto her chest, “Damn,” he breathed, biting his lip, “You see that shit? That’s your mouth workin exactly how I like.” He pulled out again, slapped his dick against her lips once more, then let it rest there, heavy and slick, “Stay right there,” he said, thumb brushing her bottom lip. “You ain’t done til' I tell you to.”
Erik pulled back just enough to look at her.
Really look.
Her mouth was wrecked. Lips swollen and shiny. Chin slick. Eyes glassy and obedient, breathing heavy through her nose like she’d been holding herself together on willpower alone. He liked that look on her. Liked that he put it there.
“Stick your tongue out,” he said all calm like he knew she’d listen.
Sanaa did it immediately. Tongue extended, trembling just a little, glossy with spit. Pretty. Pink. Waiting.
He slapped his dick against it.
One heavy slap.
The weight of it made her gasp. The head pressed flat against her tongue, warm and leaking, precum smearing across it. He did it again. Slower this time. Let it rest there for a second so she could feel how heavy he was. How real.
“Yeah,” he said low. “Just like that.” He slapped it again, firmer, the sound wet and obscene, watching her tongue flatten under the weight of him, “Open wider.”
She did. Jaw dropping, tongue still out, eyes flicking up to his face like she wanted approval. His hand slid to the back of her neck. Fingers spread. Grip solid.
“Now show me,” he said, “Show me you want my nut.”
He guided her forward and she took him back in, lips closing around the head, tongue working immediately, slow and focused just like he told her. She sucked like she had something to prove. Drew him in inch by inch, throat relaxing, mouth warm and slick, spit coating him thick.
Erik groaned. Not a word. A sound. Low. From his chest. Like he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore.
“That’s it,” he said, breath heavier now. “Yeah. Fuck. Just like that.”
He started moving his hips. Slow at first. Shallow thrusts, letting her mouth adjust to the rhythm. His hand stayed firm on her neck, guiding and controlling the pace. She moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight through his body.
“Mm,” he sounded, eyes narrowing, “You feel how you pullin it outta me?”
She did. She knew.
Her mouth got sloppier. Wetter. She pulled back just enough to drag her tongue along the underside, then swallowed him again, deeper this time. Her throat flexed around him and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
“Fuck,” he said, hips stuttering for half a second before he steadied himself, “You doin that on purpose.”
She was. She bobbed slow, steady, eyes locked on him, hands still obedient in her lap. She let him thrust now, matching his movement, letting him slide in and out of her mouth while she kept her tongue working the head every time he pushed back in. His breathing got rougher. Chest rising faster. His free hand clenched at his side, fingers flexing like he was holding himself back from grabbing her hair harder.
“Yeah…that’s it,” he said, voice thick, strained now, “You draggin that shit outta me.”
She moaned again, tears slipping free from how full her mouth felt. How deep he was. How badly she wanted to finish him.
“Keep suckin, slut. You look real cute when you don’t think—just choke.” He grinned down at her, “That’s all you good for right now.” He thrust a little deeper, a little slower, savoring it. The sounds she made were obscene. Wet. Desperate. Perfect, “That’s my nut you workin for,” he said quietly, “Don’t rush. I wanna feel every second.”
And the way his hips kept moving, the way his voice shook just a little now, told her she was doing exactly what he wanted. To make his thighs tighten and his voice start slipping into that ragged, desperate edge even he couldn’t hide. His grip stayed locked at the back of her neck, anchoring himself in the wet heat of her mouth while she kept sucking like she needed it. Slow strokes. Controlled sucks. But his body was rolling now. Sanaa had her tongue working that underside with purpose, lips locked tight, cheeks hollowed every time he pulled back. And when he slid back in, deeper, letting her throat hug the head, her moan vibrated so deep around him it made his stomach jump. Erik’s eyes fluttered. He bit down on his bottom lip hard. Head tipped back. Shoulders flexing. His whole body rippled, abs twitching under the tight strain of control he was seconds from losing.
“Fuck…stay right there. Don’t move. Don’t fuckin play wit’ me now.” His voice hit her like weight, low and feral.
Her pace stayed nasty and obedient. Sloppy. And when his knees started to tremble, she knew it. Felt it. That thick dick was swelling even more in her mouth, leaking like crazy now, salty and heavy on her tongue.
“Fuckin’ mouth feel too damn good…” he choked out, hips stuttering, voice low and wrecked.
He looked down at her, head falling forward, eyes wild. Sweat beading at his temples. Veins thick in his arms.
Then he groaned.
Loud. Raw.
“Shit—Bri…” And with a slow thrust, balls snug to her chin, he lost it. “Empty my fuckin balls…” he gritted through clenched teeth, breath snatching, “Empty my balls, slut…suck it outta me.” His hips rocked into her mouth, slow but deep, dick jerking on her tongue with each pulse of release. Cum spilled thick, hot, flooding the back of her throat. She moaned around him, not pulling back, not flinching—swallowed every drop, “Take it,” Erik groaned, voice shaking. “Take all that shit…yeah…”
His hand held her there because he wanted to feel her throat working while she drained him. She stayed there while he spilled. Stayed there while his thighs flexed, chest heaved, abs clenched with every twitch of pleasure rolling through him. Only when he finally pulled out, slow and spent, did he look down fully and let his eyes take her in.
Face wet. Mouth open. Breathing hard. She licked her lips. And he grinned. Still high off the nut. Watching her like she was a dream with a mouth built for destruction.
“Damn,” he panted, voice rough, “You really mine now, huh?”
Sanaa was already open before he ever put it in her.
That was the part that shook her the most.
She lay back on the bed, silk-pressed hair spread smooth beneath her head, gold hoops warm against her neck, chest rising fast. Her skin glowed. Brown. Soft. That deep, rich tone that caught the light like polished wood. Her pussy was slick enough to feel the air hit it when her thighs parted. Wet enough to shine. Tight enough to throb. Erik kneeled between her legs, towering, solid, body made to fold bitches up. Scars ridged over his chest and arms, catching the light as he flexed. His locs brushed his shoulders. Gold canines flashed when he smirked, slow and dangerous. That big, thick dick sat heavy in his hand, already hard and leaking. Veins thick along the shaft. Heavy head. Fat. Balls tight. He dragged the head of it through her slick, slow. Let it slide between her lips without pushing in. Just enough to make her breath hitch.
“Mm,” he said low, “That pussy talkin’.”
Sanaa whimpered, hips lifting without permission. She reached down, fingers finding her clit, rubbing slow like she needed something to hold onto. Her toes curled, thighs trembling.
“Hold your ankles,” Erik told her.
She did it instantly. Hands slid down her legs. Ankles in her grip. Wide open. Exposed. Vulnerable and ready. Her mouth fell open as she breathed, chest heaving.
They locked eyes.
Erik leaned forward just a little, dick still rubbing through her slick. He tapped her pussy with it once. Twice. A wet, teasing slap that made her gasp. Kissed her lips sloppy like he was sucking the breath out of her.
“You ready to get fucked?” he asked, voice calm but heavy with promise.
Her fingers circled her clit faster, “Yeah,” she breathed, “Yeah.”
“I’m ready to fuck you, I know that,” he said, rubbing the head of his dick right at her entrance, letting it press there without going in, “Tired of playin’. ‘Bout to dig you out, girl. Give you what you always wanted.”
Her whole body buzzed. Like static. Like she was plugged into something too strong. Her pussy clenched around nothing, slick dripping down, soaking the sheets beneath her. Erik angled his hips, lined himself up, and pushed the head in just a little.
Just enough.
Sanaa’s eyes rolled. A broken sound fell from her lips. Her toes curled so hard they damn near cramped.
“Shh,” he said, watching her face closely, “Breathe. Let that pussy relax. You want it. I feel you.”
He pushed again. Inch by inch. That fat head stretching her open, slow and deep, her tight walls gripping him like. She was holdin’ that dick like it owed her somethin'. She gasped, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, staring straight at him.
“Oh my—” Her voice cracked into a moan.
“That’s it,” Erik said, jaw tight, teeth flashing as he watched her swallow him, “That’s how you take a big dick. Slow. Let it open you.”
Her fingers rubbed her clit harder now, breath shaky, little sounds slipping out of her with every inch he sank in. Her pussy was tight. Tight as hell. Hot. Wet. Pulling him in because it needed him.
“Damn,” he groaned, “You tight as fuck. Grippin’ me like you been waitin’ your whole life.”
He paused halfway in. Just sat there. Let her feel it. Let her body adjust around him. Let her pussy throb and flutter and leak. Sanaa was shaking. Legs still wide. Ankles in the air. Eyes locked on his because she didn't wanna miss a second of this. Her lips parted. Chest heaving. Sweat starting to gather at her temples.
“Move,” she breathed, barely louder than air.
Erik tilted his head, smirk deepening, “Nah. Sit wit’ it. Feel that stretch. Feel what you been askin’ for.”
He rolled his hips just a little. Enough to make her gasp again. Enough to make her pussy clamp down.
“Fuck,” she whimpered, toes curling again, “It’s so big.”
“Yeah,” he said, finally pushing deeper. Slow. Controlled. Taking his time sinking all the way in until his hips met her thighs. Until she was full. Stuffed. Opened up around him, “That’s daddy dick,” he said quietly, “Ain’t rushin’. Just sittin’ where it belong.”
She cried out then. A real sound. Raw. Her body arched, fingers still working her clit as her pussy clenched hard around him, creamy and dripping.
Erik stayed still, buried deep, watching her face twist with pleasure and shock and need, “Now,” he said, voice low and steady, “Now I’ma fuck you.”
The first stroke took her breath. deep. And so slow. Erik dragged out of her inch by inch, dick thick and heavy, every ridge of his shaft pulling against her walls like he was scraping the memory of anybody else out. Her pussy clung to him, creamy and tight, pulsing around that slow exit like it. That pussy kept catchin’ his dick on the way out, holdin’ him right at the base. Sanaa’s mouth fell open, lips parted in shock. Her hips tried to lift with him, like her body was chasing what was leaving. He stopped right at the tip. Let it rest there. Slick and twitching.
Then he slid it back in.
One long, smooth push. Deep. Full. Her pussy stretched again, swallowed him whole. That grip got tighter every time he pulled out, like her pussy was beggin’ to stay full.
A messy whimper slipped from her throat, back arching, legs trembling as she held her ankles just like he told her to.
“Right there?” he said, voice deep and calm like a threat, “Here?” He pulled back again. Slow. Let her feel the drag. That stretch. That pressure. All that thickness working her from the inside out. Then pushed back in. Another slow grind. Deep. Deep, “How you like it?”
Sanaa’s answer was a cry, broken and high, her voice cracked open from the inside. Her hands barely held onto her legs now. Ankles shaking in her grip. Titties bouncing soft under the rhythm he set.
“You feel all that?” he said, lips barely moving, eyes locked on her face, “Feel how I’m fuckin’ this lil’ pussy?” He moved again. Same speed. Same power. That controlled thrust that kissed her spot and punched a gasp out her lungs at the same time. Her eyes rolled. Sweat broke out across her chest. Her thighs quivered, “Say it,” he growled, hips rocking, “Say what you need. Talk to me.”
Sanaa was breathless, voice caught in her throat, fingers slipping from her thighs just long enough for Erik to grip the backs of her knees and press them toward her chest, folding her even deeper. Pussy opened up wider. Gripped tighter.
“Push it in,” she whispered, eyes glossy, “Please—”
Erik laughed. Low. Nasty.
He pulled back again. Dick dragging slow, thick veins rubbing all along her walls. Cream shining on him when he looked down. Then he rocked back in deep, pelvis kissing hers, thighs clapping soft.
“This what you been wantin'? Want this dick pushin’ up in you? Stretchin’ this tight lil’ thing out?”
She nodded fast, mouth open, whining now. Body shaking under him.
“Want this dick slidin’ up in you? Stuffin’ this tight lil’ pussy full?”
Sanaa’s back arched, head tipped back, mouth open. “Nnngh—f-fuck…”
She moaned loud, fingers clawing at his back, trying to grind, but he pinned her with his weight.
“Stop movin’. This pussy gon' get this work. You feel that pulse in your stomach? That’s your pussy holdin’ me in. I can feel it…beatin’ on this dick.”
She bit her lip, head rolling, helpless.
He bent down just enough for his chest to brush her tits, still rolling his hips, smooth and deep, “Yeah, you like that,” he said into her ear, “You been actin’ like you ain’t ready, like I’m too much…but this pussy takin’ it. All of it. She know who she belong to.”
He straightened up again, gold shining in his mouth as he licked his lips. He was breathing harder now, sweat sliding down the middle of his chest, scars flexing across his arms. And he was still in control. Still feeding her slow, powerful strokes that rocked her whole body, that made the bed creak and her hands claw at the sheets.
“You makin’ a mess,” he grunted, “Drippin’ all on me. Fuckin’ cream just pourin’.”
Sanaa could barely speak. Her face said everything. Eyes low, mouth open, a whimper riding each stroke. Her body was begging. Pussy wetter, messier. Squeezing tighter every time he pulled back.
“You gon’ cum like this?” Erik said, voice dark, “I can feel it. She twitchin’. That creamy lil’ explosion waitin’ for me.” Another thrust. Then another. Each one dragging her closer, “You ready?” he whispered, “Ready to let that pretty pussy bust all over me?”
And the way her body shook said yes before she could even speak it.
Sanaa let out a broken sound, halfway between a whine and a moan, fingers twitching uselessly in the air. Her clit throbbed. Her pussy fluttered hard around him like it was begging to be let loose.
Erik reached down and took her ankles again, firm hands wrapping around them. He lifted her legs and rested them on his shoulders, one smooth motion. Her small feet dangled against his broad back, toes curling as he leaned forward and tilted her hips just right.
That angle hit different.
So deep it made her gasp sharp, eyes flying open.
“Fuck,” she breathed, staring down between their bodies, watching his dick disappear into her. Watching her own slick stretch around him. Cream shining.
"You got me so open," she spoke soft and breathless.
Erik started moving again.
Not wild. Not sloppy. Just a quicker pace. Steady. Relentless. Each thrust deep and sure, dragging through her slow on the pull back, then pressing right back in where she needed it most.
“There,” he said, voice low and steady. “Right there. You feel that shit?”
Her answer was a soft cry, lip caught between her teeth as she nodded, eyes locked on where he was fucking her. She couldn’t look away. Sanaa couldn't believe how full she looked. How much of him was inside her. How her body took it.
“I know you feel it,” he went on, breath heavier now, “This dick sittin’ all up in you. Spread open wide now, huh? Got you laid out lookin’ real fuckin’ good.”
The bed creaked under the rhythm of his hips. The wet sound between them got louder. Slicker. Every thrust pushing air out her lungs. Her titties bounced with the motion, nipples tight and aching. Sweat rolled down her chest and between them. Sanaa’s hands fisted in the sheets. Her stomach tightened. Her toes curled again, feet flexing against his shoulders.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, voice shaking, “Oh my—”
“That pressure hittin’ you right?” Erik asked, thrusting again, a little harder now, “Got you starin’ down at it like you can’t believe what it doin’ to you.” He leaned in closer, chest hovering over her legs, dick still sliding deep and slow-fast, that perfect in-between pace that made her whole body buzz, “Pussy just openin’ up for me,” he said, “Squeezin’ when I pull back. Clutchin’ when I push in. You feel how deep that shit go? shiiit”
She whimpered, eyes glossy, jaw slack. Her body rocked with every stroke, ass lifting just a little off the bed when he sank all the way in.
“I see you,” he said, “I see that look on your face. That ‘I ain’t never felt no shit like this’ look.”
Her lip trembled as she bit it again, trying not to make too much noise, failing every time he hit that spot that made her pussy jump.
“You not cumming yet,” Erik told her, voice like gravel soaked heat, “I’m holdin’ you right here. Letting this dick sit. Letting you feel what it mean to get fucked for real.”
He kept that pace. Deep. Measured. Consistent. Filling her over and over again until her thoughts blurred and all she could focus on was the way he felt inside her. Sanaa stared down at their bodies moving together, chest rising fast, eyes wide with disbelief.
She had never imagined it would feel like this.
And Erik could tell.
He smiled slow as he fucked her, knowing exactly what he was doing to her.
He felt it change in her.
That moment when her body stopped fighting the feeling and started chasing it. Erik pulled out slow just enough to make her gasp, then hooked an arm under her thighs and dragged her closer to the edge of the bed. The mattress creaked as he stood tall between her legs, feet planted wide. One big hand came up to cradle the back of her neck, fingers spread, firm but steady, keeping her bent just right. Curled beneath him like a fuck doll.
Her head tipped forward. Chin slightly tucked. Chest caving. Legs wide open and shaking.
“Stay right here,” he told her quietly.
Then he pushed back in. Harder this time. All hips. All big dick from tip to base.
He fucked her standing up, deep strokes snapping into her with sharpness. Every thrust dug into her pussy like he was carving his name in it. The sound changed immediately. Wet. Heavy. Nasty. Her ass slid just a little on the sheets with every drive of his hips. The bed thumped softly against the wall. Her breath came out in sharp, broken moans she didn’t even try to hold back. Erik leaned forward, hand still at her neck, thumb pressing just enough to keep her right where he wanted her. His other hand grabbed her thigh, spreading her wider, giving himself more room to work her.
“This how you get fucked,” he said low, voice tight now, “Ain’t none of that playin’ shit no more.”
Her body responded instantly. Pussy gripping him harder. Cream slicking up his shaft, making each thrust glide smoother, deeper. He could feel how tight she still was even after taking him. How every stroke made her clench. Sanaa dragged a hand down his chest, fingers splayed over raised scars, nails dragging slow across his abs like she needed something solid to hold onto. Her brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as sound after sound spilled out of her. No words now. Just moans. Real ones. Loud and shameless. Gasps. Strangled cries.
Her toes curled. Thighs shook. Her head pressed back into his hand as her whole body rocked with his rhythm.
Erik watched her fall apart.
Watched the way her lips parted. The way her chest rose and fell fast. The way her pussy sucked him in every time he pulled back and begged him back when he pushed in.
“I know,” he said, eyes locked on hers, pace picking up, “I know what this dick doin’. I know I’m stretchin’ you deep. Breakin’ you in right. I know baby girl.”
She moaned louder, hand sliding down his stomach, gripping his hips now, nails biting into his skin as her body tried to meet every thrust.
“Yeah?” he groaned, “I know. I feel you squeezin’ me. Tryna pull me deeper. Daddy know, baby.”
He fucked her good. No rush. No wasted movement. Just deep, clean strokes that made her body jolt and her pussy throb around him. Sweat dripped down his chest, spotted her skin. His breathing got heavier, chest flexing with every thrust.
Sanaa couldn’t think.
Couldn’t compare this to anything she’d ever had because nothing came close. This wasn’t just sex. This was control. Weight. Pressure. The type of dick that made your legs weak and your mind go quiet. Her moans filled the room now. Pretty and broken. Her body answering him before her thoughts ever could.
“You ain’t used to this,” he said, “That’s why you actin’ out. Why you so fuckin’ loud right now. This dick hittin’ different, huh?”
Her mouth trembled beneath his grip. She tried to moan but it came out shaky, broken. Just a mess of sound, face twisting as her pussy pulsed again, creamy and loud between them. Wet. Soaking wet. Erik pulled back just an inch, then slid right back in at a snails pace—deep. Her body jolted. She clawed at his abs, nails dragging across scarred skin, searching for something to hold on to.
“I said look at me,” he growled, giving her jaw a squeeze, “You takin’ it so good. But you gon’ remember this stroke.” He rolled his hips again. Slow grind. All of him inside. Her moans hitched, “Yeah…uh-huh.” he whispered, kissing the side of her mouth, still fucking her slow and deep, “That’s it. Let me see what a good girl sound like when she get ruined.”
And she did. All moans now. Loud, messy, undone. Pussy soaked. Face caught somewhere between disbelief and addiction. She didn’t even know how to ask him to stop—because she didn’t want him to. She wanted him to live in her pussy. It was that good. Good enough that words couldn’t even describe.
“Uh uh,” he said low, hips rolling again, pulling out slow just to sink back in, “Ain’t no escape in this room. Just me givin’ you some shit you don’t know how to handle yet.”
Sanaa’s head was tipped back, mouth open, eyes unfocused. She couldn’t even make words—just breathy gasps, little “uhh—uhh—ohh” sounds, tears caught in the corners of her eyes. That dick was fat. And it felt like it reached every inch inside her. Like he was claiming shit. Bruising pleasure into her walls. He dropped one fist and palmed her throat, not squeezing, just holdin’ it while he fucked her slower, deeper. His thumb under her chin to make her look at him.
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head like she was pathetic for what she’d become under him, “Pretty lil’ thing. Can’t even talk. Can’t even move. All that mouth you had… now I’m in it, huh? In that sweet, warm, squeezin’ ass pussy?” He leaned in, lips brushing her cheek as he fucked her slow, but hard. Real strokes. Deep dips. His abs flexed. That sweat from his chest dripped onto her titties, slid down between them, “Gon’ make a mess all over me,” he whispered against her ear, “I feel that pussy twitchin’. You ‘bout to squirt? Cream? Gimme that shit then. Let it go. Gimme all that sweet lil’ mess. You nasty fuckin’ slut—”
Sanaa tried to hold it, tried to breathe, but her body had other plans. Her pussy clenched up on him, hard. That creamy wet exploded in a rush. Her whole body shook. Back arched. Toes curled. She screamed loud. A long, dragged out moan that had her damn near crying, “Daaaaddy—”
“That’s it,” he groaned, biting his bottom lip hard as her cream gushed around him. “There she go. So fuckin’ messy. That’s mine. All that shit belong to me. Mine. My pussy—”
He didn’t stop. Kept stroking. Controlled. Deep. Watching the way her body seized up with every thrust. The way her face crumbled, lips parted, eyes crossed just a little. She was spent. Fucked dumb. But he wasn’t done.
She had been asking for it. The teasing. The walking past him in them little ass shorts with no bra. The smart-ass grin, the way she bent over slow like she ain’t know he was behind her. Like he wasn’t built to catch that shit. Built to correct it. Put her lil’ ass in her place.
Now she was where she needed to be.
Bent at the edge of the bed, back dipped low in a deep arch, slim thick body laid out perfect. Espresso brown skin already kissed up with sweat, glowing under the low lamp light. Long silk press damp and clinging to her spine, gold hoops swinging every time she breathed too hard. Her hands gripped the sheets in front of her like she was bracing for impact, thighs twitching already from anticipation. She wasn’t saying much now. Just soft little whimpers, little gasps, trying to hold still while Erik stood behind her, letting that heavy dick drag over her soaked lips like a warning.
He was tall, solid, strong in a way that made everything feel smaller around him. That skin of his golden brown, gleamed with sweat across scarred shoulders and cut arms, every muscle flexing in slow control. His locs hung wild, swaying with each breath he took, some brushing against his cheek as he rolled his hips forward just enough to tease her slit. His jaw was locked tight. Dimples barely showing under the shadow of his beard, lips full and parted, watching her with heat in his eyes. That look he got when he was done playing.
The room was heavy with that tension. That wet, nasty tension that made you sweat before the fuck even started. The sound of her breathing came in soft stutters, then caught sharp when he eased the tip of his dick in, slow, just enough to make her feel the width. That first little push pulled a moan straight out her chest—high-pitched, pretty, needy.
“Nnnnnhhh—”
Her thighs shook. Her hips twitched. He gripped them firm and kept her still.
His dick slid in deeper, inch by long inch, slow and controlled. Thick, veined, heavy with heat. Her pussy welcomed it, parted soft and creamy, sucking him in greedy. The sound was nasty—wet, slick, obscene. Skin to skin contact filled the room in low slaps as he sank into that tightness. She gasped loud when he bottomed out, pussy clenching, juice spilling out and down his dick, running slick down to his balls.
“Ahhh—fuck—”
Her back dipped harder, ass bouncing from the force, body trembling as he held still, buried deep. Letting her feel the weight. Letting her feel how deep it went. The pressure in her belly was immediate, hot and thick like she’d been split open from the inside. She whined again, softer this time, body trying to pull back but his grip stayed firm. Erik leaned over her, chest hovering over her back, heat rolling off his body. Sweat dripped from his skin to hers, mixing where their bodies touched. His lips brushed her shoulder as he sucked a slow breath through his nose. His locs swayed forward, brushing her neck. She could hear his breath now—heavy, steady, that deep male grunt rising in his chest as he pulled back halfway and pushed in again, slow but harder. Purposeful.
“Unhhh—”
Her moan cracked open in her throat as he started moving. Deep strokes. Slow drag out, then all the way back in, hips snapping against her ass with a sharp clap. The bounce of her cheeks echoed through the room, flesh meeting flesh, wetness coating everything. Her pussy clenched again—tight, messy, too responsive—and that just made him go harder.
She cried out again, hands bunching the sheets, gasping loud as her body rocked forward with every thrust.
“Ahhh—ahh—nnnnn—”
Erik’s hand slid from her hip to the front of her throat. Not choking. Just holding. Making her feel how deep he was, how controlled he was, how owned she was. He bent his head, kissed her jaw, bit it slow, sucked on her skin until she shivered and clenched even tighter around him. His other hand slid up, grabbed a handful of titty, squeezing her soft brown flesh, palm wet with sweat and cream.
Then he popped her ass—sharp, loud.
She squealed, whole body jumping as he slammed into her deeper. The pressure started building before she even realized he was changing pace. His thrusts stayed deep, thick strokes dragging through all that creamy wet, but there was something in the way he paused—right there, buried inside her. Like he was deciding how bad he was about to break her down.
Then his voice cut through the slick sound of skin and sex, “Sit up.”
Just like that. Blunt. Firm. No softness in it. That deep, calm tone that left no room for hesitation. Sanaa’s breath caught in her throat, and she pushed up slow on shaky arms, her back still arched, ass still high. Her long hair stuck to her shoulder and chest now, damp from sweat, sticking to the curve of her breasts. She tried to breathe, but that dick was still buried so deep, all she could do was pant. She knew her pussy hole had to be stretched to capacity with how stuffed she felt.
“Sit…up,” he repeated, voice tighter now, hand gripping her hip, “Arch that back. Stay just like that. Don’t make me say that shit again, Bri.”
She obeyed, gasping when he rolled his hips again, slow at first, the weight of him grinding right into her from behind. She whimpered when his hand slid up her back, gripped the nape of her neck.
Then came the next command, low and rough behind her, “Look back at me.”
She turned her head, eyes fluttering open through the haze, lips trembling as she looked over her shoulder. And there he was. Erik. Sweaty, scarred-up motherfucker with that big dick sitting inside her.. His locs swung loose around his face, clinging to the thick muscle of his shoulders. Sweat ran in slow trails down his chest, catching the shine in the light. His lips were parted, that sculpted jaw clenched tight. And his eyes—locked on hers, low and dangerous. Sanaa whimpered, her face twisting as another slow, hard stroke made her body jolt forward. That dick dragged against her walls so deep and thick it felt like it was curving inside her, making her pussy clench down again, hard. She couldn’t hold it.
“Mmmf—ahh—fuck… Erik…”
He smirked, then popped her ass again—sharper this time. The clap echoed through the room, “Don’t run now, lil’ slut. You wanted this, right?”
And then he started fucking her for real.
Hips snapping forward with sharp, Erik drove into her with hard, grinding thrusts, dick drilling through wet, creamy heat like it owned her insides. The sound was filthy—wet slaps, heavy balls smacking against her clit, the sharp clap of flesh to flesh every time her cheeks bounced back on him. Her pussy gushed around him, creamy and hot, dripping down to the bed, mess soaking everything under them.
“Ahh—ahh—uhhh—f-fuck—”
She was breaking, voice stuttering, face twisted up, brows tight, lips trembling as she tried to keep her eyes on him. He grabbed her jaw from behind, fingers strong and possessive on her face, turning her chin even more so she had no choice but to stare at him while he kept pounding.
“Keep them eyes on me,” he growled, voice deep and close, his lips at her cheek now, “You feel this dick? That’s what you get for playin’ in my face. Now you gon’ learn.”
She cried out again, soft and desperate. Her body trembled with every stroke, thighs shaking, nails digging into the mattress. Her tits bounced with every hit, back dimples flexing. Erik’s hips moved fast now, but still controlled, like he knew exactly how deep to go to make her lose her mind. His thrusts hit that swollen spot inside her over and over, his thick dick pushing against her walls so deep her whole pussy fluttered in response.
“Unghhh…Daddy—please—”
He grunted low, rough, grinding in deeper.
“Nasty lil’ thing,” he said right in her ear, voice ragged now, his breath hot on her neck, “All that attitude. All that mouth. Now you over here whimperin’, creamin’ all over me like a good lil’ slut.”
She gasped, crying out again, that pleasure bubbling high and fast inside her. Erik didn’t let up. He kept her head turned, kept his body crashing into hers, all muscle, all grit, sweat dripping onto her back with every stroke. Both of them breathing heavy, biting their lips, eyes locked.
Sanaa stayed right where he put her—back arched, hands down, head still turned, mouth parted on a whimper. That dick had her wide open. Her whole body felt like it was on fire now, tingling from the inside out. She could feel every part of him—every thick inch, every slow drag, every deep slam that pushed up into places she ain’t even know could feel that good. Her thighs were shaking, hips twitching with every thrust. But Erik wasn’t letting her go nowhere.
He had her by the shoulders now, those strong-ass hands gripping tight, thumbs pressed into the back of her traps, arms flexed as he used his whole body to pull her back into each stroke. Feet planted. Muscles locked in. That perfect stroke rhythm starting to build again—steady, brutal, unrelenting.
No words now.
Just dick.
Just that thick, wet clap of his hips smacking against her ass over and over, the sound getting nastier, wetter, louder with every bounce of her cheeks. Just his grunts—low, throaty, deep in his chest. And that smug-ass “mhmm,” that came out when he bottomed out so hard she let out a full cry. That sly ask smirk coupled with that bite of his lip.
“Auhhh—uhh—daddy—fuck—”
Her voice broke every time he hit it. Her pussy clamped down again, tight and fluttering around him, slick coating his dick in warm cream that spilled with every deep thrust. The pressure inside her was swelling fast, like her body was trying to catch up to what he was doing to it—like her nerves were sparking all over. That dick was heavy. Thick as hell. Every push sent heat rolling through her belly, made her gasp, made her grab the sheets like she could anchor herself against it. He gripped her harder. Pulled her back harder. Snapped his hips forward and made that ass bounce harder.
Her titties swung with every stroke, sweat rolling down her chest, her back, between her thighs. Her whole body was shaking now, nerves on fire, pussy so wet it sounded like he was fucking straight into a bowl of honey. The slick was everywhere—coating him, dripping to the bed, making a mess of her thighs and the back of her knees.
And Erik was loving it.
Didn’t say a word. Just kept watching her. Kept them eyes on her like he was memorizing how she looked with his dick buried in her. Lips slightly parted. Jaw clenched. Locs stuck to his shoulders and jaw, swaying with every hard stroke.
“Unnnh…mmmh…uh-huh…”
Those cocky-ass grunts and hums kept falling out of his mouth, like her pussy was answering a question he ain’t even ask. That deep, wet squeeze her body gave every time he drove in. The flutter when he slowed up. The shiver in her legs when he picked the pace back up and pounded harder. Sanaa tried to reach back, tried to brace herself on his thigh, but he wasn’t having that. He let go of one shoulder, grabbed her wrist and planted her hand back down. Grabbed her hip again and took her right back into that stroke. Deep. Fast. Wet.
“Auhh—uhhh—uhhhhnnnn…”
She was gasping now, moaning with every single thrust. Her pussy started convulsing again, leaking more, pulling at him because it didn’t want him out. That heat between her legs turned molten, had her legs trembling under him, had her thighs slick and trembling.
Still pounding. He was still controlling. Dickin’ her down like she was built to take all of him and only him.
“D-don’t stop… I need it like that…" "Right there, oh my god…keep fuckin’ me, just like that…” “You feel how deep you in? I’m so full… I can’t take it—no, wait—I want it…” “Talk to me while you fuck me like this…tell me it’s yours…” “This dick feel so good, daddy…you tryna make me lose my mind?” “You fuckin’ me dumb…I swear I’m finna—oh my god—Erik…” “Look what you do to me…look at how I’m shaking…you proud of that?” “Don’t slow down—uh-uh, no—keep goin’, fuck me open…” “I want all of it…don’t hold back…tear it up.” “Mmmf…I’ll take all that dick, just keep giving it to me…make me remember.”
Sanaa was begging. Nonstop. On a never ending loop.
Voice all breathy and broken, words spilling out between moans like she couldn’t help it. Like she needed to be fucked. Needed to be filled. Saying anything, everything—just to keep him deep inside her.
“I’ll be g-good…I swear…” “I won’t run no more…you can do whatever you want…” “I’m listening, I’m listening…I promise I’m listening…” “Please, I’m tryna be good for you…ain’t I being good?” “You got me, daddy…you got all of me, I swear…” “I won’t move, I’ll stay right here…just keep fuckin’ me…”
She started begging while throwing it back, Erik talking her through it.
“I’ll be good…I swear…I just—I need it—”
“Then take it. Show me how bad you want it.”
“I’m tryna be good…tryna take it all—”
“You doin’ good. Now stay right there and keep archin’ that pretty back.”
“You fuckin’ me so good, I can’t think straight—”
“Good. That’s the goal. I don’t want no thoughts in that head. Just me.”
Her back dipped low, arms trembling where she gripped the edge of the bed, face buried in the pillow. Erik had her locked in, one hand braced heavy on her lower back, the other gripping her hip, pulling her into each stroke. He wasn’t slamming into her. Nah. He was drilling her. Real slow. Real deep. Erik was laying pipe in her soul. She was throwin’ it back in broken stutters, thighs shaking, sweat sliding down her spine. Cream slicked his dick, thick and wet, strings of it gluing to the base. He could hear it every time he sank back in. That nasty, obscene squelch that made his jaw clench.
Schhlllk—schlckk, shhcccclik
“You close?” he asked, voice low and dark behind her.
She nodded fast, whining. Couldn’t get words out. Just gasps and soft cries.
Erik leaned in, hips still grinding, still pushing all the way in. Then he slid two fingers into her mouth. Right between her lips. Like a pacifier, “Suck,” he said, “Be my good girl.”
And she did. Moaning around his fingers. Eyes rolling. Drool sliding down her chin as her body locked up. Her orgasm hit like a fucking car crash. Sanaa’s eyes crossed, jaw slackening around his fingers. Her legs gave out beneath her, back bowing as her body seized, pussy gripping and milking his dick. She screamed around his hand, whimpering and twitching, hips caught in the middle of the thrust.
“There you go,” Erik grunted, “That’s it. Cum on this dick just like that.”
Her cream spilled down his shaft in a thick, hot wave, soaking her thighs and the sheets beneath her. Erik didn’t slow. He fucked her through it, holding her mouth open with his fingers, thumb stroking her bottom lip. She sucked like she needed it to breathe. Eyes wet. Breath hitched. Body quivering like she had no control over her basic motor skills.
“You feel that?” he growled, stroking deep again, “You still cumming, baby. Let it out.”
Her moans were high and muffled, body twitching as he stayed buried inside her. Still fucking her and making her feel everything. No breaks. No mercy.
“You want daddy to stop?” he asked again, pulling her head back by the hair, “Or you want more?”
She tried to answer, but all that came out was a choked moan around his fingers.
“Mmhm. Thought so.”
He pulled his fingers from her mouth slow, strings of spit still clinging to them, and dragged the wet trail across her ass. Sanaa was trembling, cheeks flushed, pussy leaking from the last orgasm. But Erik gripped her waist again, pulled her back against him, and slid all the way in.
“Mmm…this lil’ pussy still wet for me?” he growled low behind her.
She whimpered, back arching. She tried to move but he pinned her down.
“Nah, keep still. I’m bout to fill you up.” His voice dropped, heavy and slow like a threat, “You feel that?” This me. All this dick. Stuffin’ this tight lil’ pussy.”
He started stroking again, deeper now, slow and punishing, his balls slapping against her soaked folds. Sanaa was crying into the sheets—moaning, choking, cumming all over again. And Erik was chasing his nut now.
“I’m gon’ breed this pussy.Drop this nut so fuckin’ deep, you’ll feel it in your stomach.” His hand slid up her back, gripped the nape of her neck, pushed her face down into the bed, “You hear me, baby? I’m the only one who get to fuck you like this.” He thrust harder now, hips slamming, the sound filthy. The sound of skin, of heat, of him claiming her. Possessive. Focused. Mean with it, “This slutty lil’ pussy… so good. Good pussy. My pussy. So fuckin’ tight I can barely breathe.”
Sanaa was gone. Babbling. Creaming again. Arching back into him even as her legs shook. And Erik was right at the edge. He grabbed both her hips, held her in place, and pushed all the way in—balls deep—and held it.
“Fuck…fuuuck—there it go—”
He groaned hard through clenched teeth as he nutted. Thick, hot, flooding her. Long spurts. Over and over. His dick twitched inside her as he emptied himself so deep, so full, he knew she’d be leakin’ when he pulled out.
“Mmm…there you go. Take all this nut, just like I taught you.” He leaned down, pressed his chest to her back, lips brushing her ear, This the only dick you know, baby. The best dick you ever had. And the last dick you gon’ ever get.”
Erik finally pulled out, slow and heavy, his dick slick with her cream and his nut. Sanaa whimpered at the emptiness, her thighs twitching. A thick stream of cum dripped from her used pussy, pooling between her legs, then more spilled when she arched slightly and pushed it out, her body still fluttering.
He watched it, eyes dark.
Then he leaned over her back, one hand spreading her ass, the other braced beside her head. His lips brushed her ear.
“Shit — You grippin’ me baby…I knew all that badmouthing was just an act — This pussy so good…”
Obscene sounds of skin on skin filled the room, echoing through the wide halls of the palace. The Wakandan heat was palpable, emitting sweat from your pores that ran down your skin, tricking down and mixing at your privates.
Your ass was in the air, and Erik Killmonger – the new king of Wakanda – was behind you. His hands were firm on your waist, pressing into the small of your back as he thrust into you. The carnal act was set under the golden sunset, which perfectly illuminated the ripples of the flesh of your ass with every thrust.
Killmonger had always been ambitious; ruthless even, and now that he’d conquered entire lands, it was time for him to focus on you.
He wanted an heir.
And as his bride, you were going to give it to him.
Horny was an understatement. Erik took you anywhere and everywhere; once in sacred waters, with your back against stone walls and one leg around his waist as he held you up, dew from the waterfall tracing the patterns on his back. Another time he had you on his lap, thighs spread as you rode him on the throne, right into the morning sun.
And now you were face down gripping the sheets, fully nude except for the antique wedding ring on your finger. With a sharp smack, you lurched forward, losing your balance.
“You runnin’ from me?” He leered, baring his teeth as he smirked. “You ain’t never had no dick like this, huh?”
Between moans, you shook your head, throat dry as you tried to find the words.
“N-No—“
“Nuh-uh, none of that mumbling shit,” he cut you off. “Lemme hear it. Tell me who owns this.”
Clamping down on your lip, your chest constricted as the weight of his words weighed on you. The sex was good – painfully good – and Erik was undoubtedly hot, but your submission hadn’t come easy. Though you had no ties to Wakanda, you were one of Xavier’s mutants and had heard of the destruction he’d caused to those of the nation, simply for disagreeing with him.
That was why he’d sought you out; a mutant and a mercenary-turned-King would make a powerful baby…essentially ensuring the country’s status for generations.
Protection was one thing, yes, but your freedom was far more important, especially when it came to a man like Erik. You’d resisted him at first, to which he’d replied with a strong hand around your throat and a dagger pressed against your back as he held you against him.
“You might be all high n’ mighty now, but those people ain’t your friends. You belong here with the rest of us. I ain’t gonna let you forget where your real family is, princess. Never.”
You hated giving him the satisfaction, but you inevitably ended up eating your words.
“Shit…” you groaned, torso heavy as you felt Erik raise one leg, thrusting into you harder. His balls were heavy on your soppy wet cunt as he grunted profanities of his own, a thumb lingering dangerously close to your star of your ass. “ ‘S good…So good…Nobody could fuck me like you can—“
“That’s right,” he hummed, voice smooth. Sneakily, he pressed his thumb against your hole, the pressure sending a tingle through your loins. “Say it again. Say my name this time.”
“E-Erik—“ you breathed, the lower half of your body seemingly on fire. “T-This fucking dick is so good, Erik…”
“You just eatin me up…This ass’ so perfect—“ he sneered, brown eyes ravenous as he spread the fat of your cheeks, admiring the way your tight cunt swallowed all six-something inches of his cock.
He was balls deep now, but he could see his cock glistening with your juices at his base, vein throbbing as he felt himself beginning to lose control. His thick black locs blurred his sight as they fell in his face, unruly, forcing him to sit back and let your ass envelop him once more.
Each of his bulging muscled seemed to twitch, and you could’ve sworn that you felt your pussy quiver with anticipation as he called out the words:
“Fuck, babygirl. You drivin’ me crazy. ‘M gonna fill this pussy up, hm? You gon’ give me a baby?”
“Yes, w-whatever you want — ugh!”
You garbled, unable to comprehend the words that were leaving your mouth. Your walls clenched as his fat tip hit that sensitive spot, sending you crashing down almost instantly as he came with you with a loud groan.
Hot and heavy, he shot ropes of white ribbons into your sensitive cunt, languid strokes making pornographic squelching sounds as he fucked it into you, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. Erik’s grip on your skin was certainly enough to leave a bruise on you tomorrow, combined with the soreness of your ass cheeks.
Somewhat uncharacteristically, Erik leant down to place a chaste kiss along the small of your back and up your spine; chest dense and heaving as he practically collapsed on you, cock still inside.
“You doin’ so good for me, mama…” he cooed, briefly glancing at the sunset in-front of him, now casting brilliant shadows within the bedroom. You couldn’t see it, but there was a smug gleam in his deep brown eyes that would’ve told you instantly that he probably wasn’t done for the night.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ after erik killmonger seizes the wakandan throne, a royal strategist loyal to t’challa is forced to remain in his inner circle.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ my sister wanted this, and this is my first Killmonger fic? LIKE HELLO??? definitely making more because why didn’t i think of this BEFORE? enjoy!
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➤ 6.3k
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ dirty talk, hate sex, emotional and psychological manipulation, impact play, mild breath play, throne sex, black!thick!reader (but anyone can imagine themselves), use of african language (xhosa/zulu inspired), mentions of political violence. 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!
the halls of the golden city no longer sounded like home. they echoed now. not with the ancient rhythms passed down by your foremothers. not with the low, ancestral chants that once settled over the palace like fog at dawn. no — they echoed with the weight of new boots on sacred stone. boots that did not belong to a king.
they belonged to a conqueror.
erik stevens — no, he called himself n’jadaka now — had taken the throne barely two weeks ago. the blood from the ritual combat had not yet fully dried in the sacred pool, and yet the council already bowed their heads to him, lips tight with fear. there had been no second trial. no challenge. the mountain tribe stood down. t’challa’s body had vanished with the river.
you’d known t’challa since you were children. you used to spar with him beneath the shade of the elder tree, both of you too proud to admit when you’d bruised. he trusted you to hold the long-view strategy for wakanda in your hands — one of the few civilians allowed in the high council chambers. strategist. advisor. loyalist. and now… traitor, by some mouths. prisoner, by others.
but erik hadn’t thrown you to the dungeons.
instead, he kept you close.
“a mind like yours shouldn’t rot in a cell,” he’d said, the day after the coronation. he’d spoken it low in your ear, like a secret only you were worthy of. “nah… i want you right where i can see you.”
and now here you were — standing in the war room, your thick frame wrapped in deep blue and gold robes, tension stiff across your shoulders. the rich fabric clung to the slope of your hips, accentuating the body that no uniform could hide. you could feel his gaze on you before you even turned around.
“what you think, strategist?” erik’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. deep, deliberate, heavy with that oakland-born bite. “we hit london first? or new york?”
you didn’t look at him right away. instead, you traced the holographic map glowing across the table with your fingers, watching the borders pulse with potential violence. cities were marked in red. colonizer capitals. your jaw tensed.
“wakanda does not conquer,” you said, carefully. not too soft. not too sharp. “that is not our way.”
“yeah,” he muttered, stepping closer. “and where that get y’all? watchin’ while your brothers and sisters got they necks stepped on. wakanda been hiding.”
he circled behind you like a panther. not quite touching. but close enough that your skin prickled where his heat brushed you. you refused to flinch. he wanted to see you rattle. it was the game, now. every day — the game.
“this ain’t about revenge,” he said, lowering his voice. “this about balance. and power.”
“power built on blood doesn’t last,” you replied, turning finally to face him. your eyes locked. his were molten — dark and unreadable, but sparking with something cruel and magnetic. “and what you’re building… it’s made of bones.”
he didn’t blink. just smiled slow, head tilting.
“so?” he asked, tongue dragging across the edge of his teeth. “that bother you?”
he was too close now. tall, broad, shirt open at the chest. gold fangs flashing beneath full lips. skin dusted in the faintest sheen of sweat and sun, each raised kill mark down his chest a monument to pain — and victory. you hated how magnetic he was. how his presence filled the air so fully it pushed everything else out. his scent was warm metal and cedar. his voice was gravity.
“you loyal to t’challa,” he said, voice dipped low again. “i know that. but you still here. still breathin’. still dressin’ like you got somewhere to be.”
his eyes dragged down your figure — from the tight fold of your waist wrap, across the swell of your hips, to where your thighs brushed under soft fabric. you shifted. not out of discomfort — but because you could feel how intently he watched you.
“you tryna prove somethin’?” he murmured. “or you just don’t know where else you fit now?”
you straightened, spine like steel.
“i serve wakanda,” you said. “not the man who sits on the throne.”
his laugh was soft, almost amused. but there was no kindness in it.
“sound like you tryna convince yourself.”
each day after that followed a pattern. you studied maps, advised on diplomatic approaches you didn’t believe in, and fed him half-truths through clenched teeth. still, he kept you near. always asking for your perspective, always testing your loyalty. his soldiers looked at you with suspicion, but they didn’t touch you. not without his permission.
he was possessive like that. even when he didn’t say it out loud.
and slowly — sickeningly — you started to understand him.
not agree. never that. but understand.
how anger had carved itself into him, root-deep. how power was the only language he’d ever been taught. he wielded it like a weapon, sharp and beautiful. and when he wasn’t using it to dominate a room, he used it on you — with whispers, glances, and challenges he knew you’d rise to.
he never tried to force you. he didn’t need to. erik killmonger was more dangerous than that — because he made you want to play his game.
he’d lean close during briefings, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured critiques. he’d stand at the top of the royal steps while you debated councilmen, watching your every word like a test. and when you succeeded — when your voice swayed the elders just enough — he’d nod, slow and proud, like he was claiming you for it.
“look at you,” he’d say, later, while passing you alone in the garden corridors. “still tryna save people who would’ve let you die with the old king.”
you hated how deep those words burrowed. hated how you still walked the halls after dark, pulse racing at the sound of his voice in the distance.
one night, weeks in, you found yourself summoned.
not by a guard. not by a formal scroll.
just a voice in the corridor. soft. direct. one word.
“come.”
when you stepped into the throne room, it was empty but for him. torchlight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows across the black stone floor. the panther statue loomed silent behind the throne.
erik sat on it like he was born there. legs spread. arms relaxed. gaze dark and direct.
you didn’t bow.
you didn’t speak.
he studied you in silence for a long moment, then motioned you forward with two fingers.
“you believe i don’t deserve this,” he said, voice level. “say it.”
your throat tightened. but you forced yourself steady.
“i believe your rule is built on a lie,” you said. “wakanda’s legacy is not yours to twist.”
he didn’t move. didn’t blink. but his voice dropped, slow and rough.
“and yet here you stand.”
your lips parted — to argue, maybe. or to defend yourself. but no words came.
“i ain’t stupid,” he said, rising from the throne. “i know what this is.”
he stepped toward you again, each stride deliberate.
“you hate me,” he said, stopping just inches away. “but you watch me. every time. you listen. you fight back.”
his hand didn’t touch you. but it hovered just near your jaw. his heat was a weight. your breath quickened.
“ain’t no loyalty in that,” he said, eyes burning into yours. “that’s desire.”
you said nothing.
but you didn’t step back.
he smiled. slow. teeth sharp.
“loyal little queen’s dog,” he said, voice dripping heat. “you ever wonder how it’d feel to break?”
your pulse thudded between your thighs.
but your voice stayed even.
“never,” you whispered.
his eyes dropped — from your lips, to your chest, to the curve of your hips.
“we’ll see.”
his fingers ghosted along your jawline, calloused and hot, but still not touching. erik didn’t rush. no — he never did. dominance for him was earned in slow, suffocating inches. he wanted to watch you squirm under your own restraint. test the shape of your resistance until it shattered on him.
“ain’t gotta say yes,” he murmured, voice low and thick like honey-drenched smoke. “but you ain’t leavin’ either. so what that tell me, hm?”
his thumb dragged — barely — across the curve of your lower lip. your breath hitched. he felt it.
you hated him.
but you wanted him more.
you turned your head just enough to break the spell, stepping back one pace. but that inch was his permission — and he followed, advancing like he owned the ground beneath your feet. your back met the edge of the throne before you realized he’d corralled you there. trapped between carved stone and muscle-thick heat, your body buzzed like war drums. your thighs clenched without command.
“mm,” he laughed, low in his chest. “there she go. wakanda’s finest. thick as the land itself, still actin’ like she ain’t dyin’ to break for me.”
you didn’t respond.
not with words.
you reached for him instead — finally, with fingers curling into the front of his open vest. not a surrender. not exactly. just… the beginning of something too old for language.
his mouth met yours like fire. brutal, claiming. teeth clashing, lips hot. it wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t sweet. it was a fight dressed in heat, breath on breath, until you moaned into his mouth and he groaned against your teeth. the taste of him was sweat, blood, and something darker — control.
his hand came down on your ass with a sharp, open slap.
you gasped, clinging harder.
“yeah,” he growled, sliding one thick thigh between yours, forcing them open. “you like that, huh? all that royal pride, but this fat lil pussy tryna talk to me different.”
you rocked against his leg before you even realized it — heat pooling deep between your thighs, clit desperate for friction. the throne room was silent but for your breath and the echo of his voice wrapping around your moans.
“what would t’challa say, huh?” he teased, hand curling around your hip as he pulled you harder against his leg. “his loyal strategist grindin’ on a nigga she swore to kill.”
you bit your lip, tried to turn your face — but he caught your chin in one hand and held you there.
“nah,” he said, low. “you look at me.”
his eyes pinned you in place, molten and unmoving. you couldn’t look away if you tried. not now. not when his fingers slipped beneath your wrap and found your bare skin, dragging slow up the inside of your thigh.
“this what you been hidin’ under all them robes?” he whispered, voice almost reverent. “this fat-ass pussy been waitin’ on me, huh?”
you whined — not in surrender, but need.
he chuckled deep.
“bend over.”
you hesitated.
his gaze sharpened. darkened.
“ngenze njalo.”
the words hit your core like a flame. do as i say.
you obeyed.
hands braced against the throne, you bent for him — thick ass high, legs wide. you heard the hitch in his breath as he stepped back to take in the sight.
then—
smack.
his palm cracked across your cheek again. not too hard. but enough.
“keep that arch,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your folds from behind. “mm… this shit wet as fuck. and i ain’t even fucked you yet.”
you moaned, low and shivering.
he knelt behind you, breathing hot over your inner thigh. his mouth pressed to your pussy — not kissing, tasting. tongue flat and deliberate, slapping your clit before sucking it with slow precision.
“fuck—!” you gasped, knuckles white on stone.
he didn’t rush. took his time. tongue moving like he owned the rhythm of your body. your thighs trembled, fat and soft against his jaw. he moaned into you like the taste alone was divine.
“you ridin’ me tonight,” he said, rising behind you again, voice thick with hunger. “on my throne. i want them pretty titties bouncin’ while i watch you fall apart.”
you turned as he shed the rest of his vest — then his pants.
his dick hung heavy, thick, the kind of size that made you pause. covered in veins, head dark and already leaking. he stroked it slow while he stared you down.
“come on, queen,” he murmured. “show me what loyalty look like now.”
you climbed onto the throne — his throne — hands braced on his chest, thick thighs spreading over him as you straddled his lap. his hands found your hips, pulling you down so the head of his cock teased your entrance. you both breathed ragged.
then — you sank down.
inch by inch.
his mouth dropped open, teeth grit.
“god damn,” he hissed. “this pussy heavy as fuck.”
you rode him slow at first — adjusting to his size, your walls clenching tight. his eyes never left your face. not once. his hands guided you, rhythm building with every bounce of your thick ass. you bounced harder. louder.
smack.
his palm slapped your ass again. then again. red prints bloomed.
“take that dick,” he growled. “look at you — thick lil loyalist, takin’ a real king’s cock.”
you whimpered, rolling your hips faster, sweat sliding down your throat. your tits bounced, full and heavy, catching his eyes with every thrust.
“say who this pussy belong to,” he demanded.
you moaned, too far gone to think, riding him like salvation. like war. like you hated him — and loved the way he destroyed you.
he grabbed your throat.
“say it.”
you whispered it.
“…you.”
his eyes lit with fire.
he flipped you in one swift motion — your back now against the cold stone of the throne, legs spread as he pounded into you, harder, deeper, cock hitting every spot like he knew you already.
you were nothing now. just gasps. heat. slick. sweat.
he grunted, one hand pressing on your lower belly as he fucked you deeper.
“you feel that?” he rasped. “i’m in there. ain’t no goin’ back now, mama.”
you clawed at him, body coiling tight.
your climax ripped through you like thunder — back arching, mouth open in a silent cry.
he followed seconds later, spilling deep inside you with a growl, hands fisting in your waist like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
you laid there afterward — still on the throne, legs sprawled, his breath heavy on your neck.
Pairing: Erik Killmonger × Black!OC (Naledi “Nali”)
AU: Modern Wakanda, T’Challa still King
Summary:
Golden City’s glitter hides a rot beneath. Nali makes her living in the smoke-thick underworld — smooth talker, hustler, always calm no matter how bloody the deal gets. But the night Erik Killmonger walks into her club, calm turns combustible. Their chemistry is fire and knives, filthy attraction tangled with blood and betrayal. Together they might carve out an empire in the shadows… or destroy each other trying.
The bass hit like a heartbeat through the floorboards, the kind that settled in your chest and rattled your bones. Golden City had its polished lounges, its government-approved nightspots where ministers’ sons poured expensive whiskey under clean light. This wasn’t one of them.
Here, the smoke hung thick. Sweat clung to the walls. Bottles clinked against sticky tables while dice games rumbled in the corners. Someone was frying meat out back, grease and spice bleeding into the air, mixing with liquor and smoke. The crowd moved in a slow, grinding wave to the music, neon strobing red-blue-purple across damp skin.
Nali sat at her booth like she owned the place. One arm draped over the cracked leather backrest, the other hand balancing a glass slick with condensation. Her legs were crossed loose, the toe of her heel keeping rhythm to the bass. Across from her, two hustlers leaned in, sweating bullets over numbers.
“Fifty up front, seventy-five when it moves,” one said, chewing his bottom lip like it might sprout answers.
Nali tilted her head, bored. “You tryin’ to play me, or you just bad at math?” She sipped slow, the liquor burning sweet. “Seventy-five don’t cover shit.”
The other man stammered, trying to adjust. Nali didn’t press, didn’t raise her voice. She just let silence stretch until it made them squirm, until the bass swallowed their confidence whole. Smooth, lazy. She never needed to sweat.
That’s when she felt it—eyes on her.
Not the regular kind. Not drunk staring, not lust. This one was heavier. Predatory. Like someone clocking her every move, waiting to see where she slipped.
She didn’t look right away. Kept her posture, kept her smirk. Let him look. Then, slow, she dragged her gaze across the room.
He stood at the bar—dark hoodie under a leather jacket, chain catching the neon light, beer bottle dangling loose in his hand. Broad shoulders, a presence that pulled attention without asking. He wasn’t hiding, wasn’t pretending. Just staring her down like he already owned the booth she was sitting in.
Erik Killmonger.
Nali didn’t blink. Just tipped her glass toward him, a lazy little salute, before turning back to her deal.
The hustlers fidgeted. They’d seen him too.
Before the next sentence even left their mouths, Erik was moving. Cutting through the crowd, the music parting around him. People clocked him, stepped aside, let him pass like he carried a storm in his pocket.
He slid straight into Nali’s booth without asking. Arm stretching across the backrest, body crowding the air like it belonged to him.
“Go ‘head,” he said, voice low, rough, that Oakland edge still sharp. “Don’t let me stop business.”
The hustlers froze. One stammered, “We—we can reschedule—”
Nali didn’t move. Didn’t shift, didn’t flinch. She kept her glass balanced between two fingers, eyes flicking at Erik, then back to the men.
“Reschedule?” she drawled. “Nah. You was just about to tell me how you’d make that extra twenty-five happen.”
The hustlers looked between her and Erik, panic painted clear. Erik smirked like he enjoyed it.
One of them muttered something about “catchin’ up tomorrow” and bolted, dragging his partner with him.
Just like that, the booth was empty—except for him.
Erik leaned in, close enough she caught his cologne under the smoke, wood and spice, something warm. His mouth curved, wolfish.
“You runnin’ little numbers in a spot like this?” His voice was a scrape of amusement, mocking but curious. “Thought Wakanda’s pretty girls was all out in daylight, playin’ good citizens.”
Nali let her eyes cut to him, lazy, unimpressed. She sipped her drink again before answering.
“Pretty girls don’t pay rent, mfethu,” she murmured, smooth as velvet. “Hustles do.”
Erik chuckled, low in his chest, eyes narrowing like she’d just thrown a challenge on the table.
“Mm.” He dragged his tongue across his teeth, considering her. “Bet you got more hustle than half these niggas in here. Question is—how much you gon’ let me see?”
Nali leaned back, unbothered, her smirk sharp and slow.
“That depend.” Her voice slid cool through the bass and smoke. “How much you payin’ for the show?”
The beat dropped, heavy. For a second, neither moved. Just heat across the table, two predators locked in, neither blinking first.
The booth felt too small with him in it. Erik stretched out, long arm spread behind her seat, legs wide like the whole corner belonged to him. The hustlers had fled, leaving only empty glasses, smoke, and the low throb of bass.
Nali didn’t bother shifting. She just drained the rest of her drink and set the glass down, her nails clicking against the table.
“You always chase folk off like that?” she asked, lazy.
Erik tilted his head, smirk curling slow. “Wasn’t me. They just ain’t built for pressure.” He leaned closer, eyes dragging down her frame, unapologetic. “You? You don’t spook easy.”
Nali hummed, unbothered. “That supposed to scare me? You starin’ like a nigga who ain’t never seen a woman before.”
Erik laughed—short, sharp, genuine. He pushed off the booth and stood, towering, before jerking his chin toward the bar. “C’mon. Let me get you a drink before that pretty mouth cuts somebody else up.”
Nali arched a brow but slid out smooth, her heels clicking against the sticky floor. She didn’t rush. Didn’t let his presence rush her.
At the bar, he flagged the tender with two fingers. “Whiskey,” he ordered. Then, glancing at her, “What you drinkin’, Nali?”
Her brow ticked up. “Who said you get my name?”
Erik smirked, eyes glinting. “I don’t ask for names. I take ’em. Heard your little partners say it. Pretty name.” He leaned against the counter, shoulders broad, chain catching the neon. “Pretty girl.”
Nali rolled her eyes, leaning her elbow on the bar, cool as ice. “You gon’ keep callin’ me pretty like that’s a line worth somethin’, or you got better material tucked under that jacket?”
Erik’s chuckle was low, rough. “You right. Pretty’s too soft.” His eyes locked on hers, heavy. “What I shoulda said is—you sittin’ here lookin’ like trouble wrapped in that dress. Got me wonderin’ if you slick as your mouth sound, or if you just talkin’.”
Nali’s smile curved, small but sharp. She picked up the glass the tender slid in front of her, swirled the liquor, took her time. Then, finally, she glanced sideways at him, voice smooth as smoke.
“Only one way to find out.”
Erik leaned in, close enough his cologne slid under the whiskey burn. “Mm. Careful. Say shit like that, I’ma have you spread out on this bar, lettin’ everybody see how fast I make that calm break.”
The words hit raw, vulgar, straight to the gut. A lesser woman would’ve gasped. Nali just sipped slow, swallowed, and let the silence stretch until Erik’s grin widened like he enjoyed her restraint.
Finally, she set her glass down, fingers tapping once against the wood. Her voice dropped low, smooth as silk.
“You talk like you already got the invite,” she murmured. “But last I checked, nigga, you ain’t even said please.”
For a second, his eyes narrowed—challenge flashing sharp. Then he laughed, full-bodied, shaking his head like she’d just surprised him.
“I like you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Yeah… you dangerous.”
Nali leaned back against the bar, legs crossing at the ankle, her smirk unbothered. “And you late. Everybody else knew that already.”
The music swelled, bass shuddering through the floor. For the first time all night, Erik looked like the one being toyed with.
The club was alive in layers. Up front, the crowd ground their hips to the bass, sweat shining under stuttering neon. But in the corners—behind curtains, through half-hidden doors—the real business moved.
Nali knew the layout by heart. Dice games rattled against the walls, quick hands flashing bills, side-eyes checking for cheaters. Back tables stacked with counterfeit meds, small bags of dust, bottles refilled with cheaper liquor passed off as top-shelf. Deals were sealed with nods and handshakes, whispers drowned out by the DJ’s steady, bone-deep thump.
In the far booth, a politician’s nephew leaned too close to a girl who wasn’t his fiancée. Near the bathrooms, two men argued over a stolen shipment, voices low but fists twitching. And above it all, the club boss—fat gold rings, sharp suit—sat with his guard dogs at a balcony table, eyes scanning the room. Nothing moved without his cut.
The air smelled of smoke and sweat, liquor spilled and never mopped, perfume clinging to every tight dress that passed by. It was a place built for heat—heat of money, heat of bodies, heat of blood when things went wrong.
And Erik Killmonger looked like he’d been carved out of that heat. He leaned on the bar like it belonged to him, chain glinting, grin sharp, watching everything with predator’s eyes. The dice games. The side hustles. The balcony boss.
He wasn’t just here to drink. He was mapping. Clocking who ran what, who skimmed too much, who’d fold under pressure.
Nali clocked him clocking.
She sipped her whiskey and let her eyes wander too, unhurried, as if she wasn’t cataloguing every weakness in the room. She’d done deals in these corners for years, watched men get dragged out bleeding for paying late, watched women use soft smiles to cut men down and leave with their wallets.
The club was survival. Anyone who stepped in here played for keeps.
And Erik? He fit too clean. Too sharp. Too comfortable.
That alone made him dangerous.
He leaned close again, his breath warm against her ear, words cutting low under the music.
“Funny thing ‘bout spots like this,” he said. “Niggas runnin’ scams, sellin’ dirt, thinkin’ they bosses. But they just ants, scramblin’ on a hill somebody else gon’ kick over.” His eyes slid toward the balcony, then back to her. “Whole time, they don’t even see the boot comin’.”
Nali hummed, swirling the ice in her glass. Cool, smooth. “And I’m supposed to guess you the boot?”
Erik smirked, teeth flashing white in the dark. “Smart girl.”
Nali didn’t blink. Just let the corners of her mouth curve, sharp and unbothered. “Boots get dirty too, mfethu. Step in the wrong mess, all that shine don’t mean shit.”
His laugh was a low growl, rolling through his chest. He liked that. Liked her.
The bass shifted, heavy, the lights cutting red. Around them, the underworld kept moving—money, sweat, blood, sin. But the heat between them felt thicker, heavier than any smoke in the room.
And Erik looked like he was done talking.
The air in the club was thick, heavy with smoke and heat. Nali finished her whiskey and slid the empty glass across the bar, smooth, ready to cut out before Erik’s wolf-grin swallowed her whole night.
But he was faster.
A hand on her wrist—not rough, not gentle either—just enough to halt her step. His eyes cut through the haze, dark and locked on her like he’d already decided where she was going.
“Walk with me,” he said. Not a question.
Nali cocked a brow, smirk curving lazy. “You real bold for a nigga who ain’t even bought dinner.”
His grin sharpened. “Ain’t dinner I’m tryna feed you.”
Before she could roll her eyes, he tugged her toward the back. Past the crowd, past the dice games, past the stink of spilled liquor into a narrow corridor lit by buzzing fluorescents. The walls were tagged with old paint, the floor sticky under her heels. Music throbbed faint through the walls, muffled by distance.
Erik pressed her to the wall, body close but not crushing. His arm caged her in, chain glinting in the dim.
“You playin’ small in there,” he said, voice low, gravel thick. “Little hustles, scraps off other niggas’ plates. You smarter than that. Smoother.” His eyes dragged down her body like a claim. “Could be sittin’ on somethin’ bigger. With me.”
Nali tilted her head, unbothered, lips curved in a sharp smile. “And what—wake up tomorrow with your boot on my neck? No thanks.”
Erik’s chuckle was low, rumbling. He leaned closer, breath brushing her ear.
“You think too small, ma. I ain’t tryin’ to step on you.” His other hand slid down, knuckles grazing her hip. “I’m tryna see if you fit beside me.”
She opened her mouth to fire back, but his fingers moved fast. Slid up her thigh, under the edge of her dress, knuckles rough against soft skin. By the time her breath caught, he was already at her center, heat radiating through thin fabric.
Nali’s smirk faltered for a second. Just a flicker. Enough for him to notice.
“Mm,” Erik hummed, teeth flashing. “Thought so. Always cool, always calm… ‘til somebody touch you right.”
His fingers pressed harder, dragging against her pussy through the fabric. She clenched her jaw, forcing her voice smooth.
“You real messy,” she murmured, a lazy drawl that barely masked the tremor in her throat. “Thinkin’ fingers gon’ buy my loyalty?”
Erik laughed under his breath, the sound dark, dirty. Then he pushed her panties aside and slid two fingers in without warning.
Nali gasped sharp, nails clawing at the wall behind her.
“Shit—”
“Yeah,” he muttered, grinding them in deeper, slow. “That’s it. Wet already, huh? Pussy grabbin’ me like it don’t know whether to hate me or beg for more.”
Her breath hitched, body betraying her with every squeeze, every slick sound his fingers dragged out of her. She tried to keep her voice smooth, sharp.
“You—” She swallowed a moan, rolled her eyes like it cost her. “You talk too much.”
Erik smirked, curling his fingers just right, making her knees threaten to buckle. “Then shut me up.”
For a second, the corridor filled with nothing but the wet slide of his fingers and her broken breaths trying to stay steady.
Her cool cracked, not all the way, but enough for him to see it. And Erik leaned in, mouth brushing her jaw, voice a dirty growl in her ear.
“Fuck a little hustle,” he said. “Fuck scraps. Run with me, Nali. I’ll put this whole city under your feet. All you gotta do—” His fingers curled deep, sharp enough to make her choke back a cry. “—is say yes.”
The corridor stank of smoke and bleach. Her breath was still uneven, her thighs slick, but Nali smoothed her dress down with lazy fingers like she hadn’t just been writhing against Erik’s hand.
He stepped back, slow, sliding his fingers free, and brought them to his mouth. Sucked them clean while holding her gaze.
“Mm,” he hummed, low and dirty. “Sweet as I figured.”
Nali tilted her chin, forcing her smirk back into place even while her pulse thundered in her throat. “You're dramatic. That supposed to impress me?”
Erik grinned, sharp as broken glass. “Didn’t hear you complainin’.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall, heels clicking sharp as she walked past him. Smooth. Unbothered. Even though her thighs still trembled with every step.
Back on the floor, the club swallowed her whole again—bass hammering, neon flashing, the stink of sweat and liquor choking the air. Her old hustlers were gone. But the balcony boss was still posted above, gold rings catching the light, eyes cutting sharp when they landed on her and Erik side by side.
Whispers followed them as they crossed the room. Heads turned. Everyone clocked it: Nali wasn’t walking alone anymore.
She slid back into her booth like nothing had changed, legs crossing, cool as smoke curling. Erik sat beside her, too close, his chain glinting as he leaned back, arm stretching across the seat behind her.
Dice clattered. Bottles popped. Someone yelled over a lost hand in the corner. The whole club kept moving.
But Nali felt the shift—the way eyes tracked them, the way tension rippled through the air. Erik was a storm, and by sitting next to him, she’d painted herself in lightning.
“You stirrin’ shit,” she murmured, lifting her glass like her hand wasn’t shaking faintly.
Erik smirked, his eyes on the balcony boss. “Storm don’t stir. Storm just remind niggas how small they really are.”
Nali sipped slow, unbothered, though her pulse still raged. “Mm. Long as you remember—storms blow over too.”
Erik chuckled, leaning close enough his cologne and heat cut through the smoke. “Not this one.”
Above, the balcony boss stood, rings flashing as he snapped for his guards. Trouble moved.
Nali set her glass down, her smirk sharp as ever, even as her muscles coiled tight.
And Erik? Erik just smiled like he’d been waiting for it.
The room cracked open all at once.
Shouts from the dice game, a bottle breaking sharp, bodies crashing into each other as the crowd surged. The bass got swallowed by fists, by glass, by panic. Up on the balcony, the boss pointed, rings flashing, and his guards moved down like wolves into a herd.
Nali felt Erik tense before he even touched her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, dragging her off the stool.
“Move.”
She stumbled once in her heels, glaring at him through the smoke. “I can walk my damn self—”
But the look in his eye shut her up. Not fear. Not even urgency. Just that cold predator’s focus, like everything was going exactly how he wanted.
The crowd broke into chaos behind them. Erik shoved through a side door, hauling her with him into a narrow hall. Voices shouted. Glass shattered. Her pulse pounded with adrenaline, and the raw ache was still burning between her thighs from his fingers.
They crashed into a storage room—dim light, crates stacked high, the smell of dust and spilled liquor. Erik slammed the door behind them, then had her against the wall before she could breathe.
“Still think I’m playin’ small?” His voice was a growl, rough and hot against her ear.
Nali smirked, even as her back hit cold brick. “You really think dick’s gon’ buy my hustle?”
His laugh was low, dangerous. His mouth crashed to hers, rough, teeth and tongue, her lipstick smeared across both their mouths. She clawed at his jacket, nails scraping, dragging him closer instead of pushing away.
He gripped her thigh, hauling her leg up around his waist. His chain swung forward, clinking against her chest as he ground against her, thick length straining through his jeans, pressing right where she throbbed most.
“Shit—” she gasped, breath breaking when he rolled his hips hard.
“Yeah,” he muttered, voice filthy, biting at her jaw. “Feel that? Pussy gon’ drown me before I even get inside.”
Her laugh came sharp, breathless. “Bold talk from a nigga still outside.”
That was all it took.
He shoved her panties aside, lined up, and pressed in slow—thick head stretching her open.
Nali’s smirk faltered, a sharp gasp tearing out before she could bite it back.
“Fuck—”
Erik’s eyes locked on her face, heat flashing dark. He pushed deeper, slow and steady, letting every inch sink inside until he bottomed out, buried fully in her. Her nails clawed down his back, dragging lines through leather and muscle.
Her moan was half-broken, half-defiant. “Goddamn—”
“Mm,” Erik growled, grinding once, deep. “That’s it. Pussy clutchin’ me like she scared I’ll pull out. Tight as fuck. Made for me.”
The wet sounds were obscene in the silence, every grind echoing off brick. She tried to keep her tone smooth, biting back cries.
“You—talk too much—”
He grinned against her neck, teeth scraping skin. “Nah. I talk just enough. You like hearin’ it. Got you squirming while I’m buried in this pussy, takin’ every inch.”
He pulled back an inch, drove in again, sharp, bottoming out with a wet slap that made her choke on a moan.
“Yeah,” he hissed, voice low and filthy. “Take it all. Clenchin’ on me like you was fuckin’ made for this dick.”
Her nails dug so deep his shoulders would wear the marks. Her head dropped back, throat exposed, breaths ragged. “Shit—Erik—”
“Say it louder,” he muttered, grinding slow. “Say my name like you mean it.”
Her lips parted, the sound caught between a moan and a curse—
The door slammed open.
Shouts. Boots pounding. Gunmetal flashing.
Erik ripped out of her with a snarl, spinning, body blocking hers. The sudden emptiness left her clenching around nothing, trembling, thighs slick and aching.
“Down!” he barked, drawing his gun in one smooth motion. Bullets cracked against brick. Bottles shattered. The room erupted in chaos, her unfinished moans swallowed by gunfire.
The last body dropped with a wet thud. The room stank of gunpowder and blood, smoke hanging thick in the air.
Erik lowered his gun, chest heaving, chain swinging heavy across his sweat-slick shirt. His eyes cut across the wreckage, then locked on her.
Nali stood against the wall, breath ragged, dress torn up her thigh, a jagged bottle still slick with someone else’s blood in her hand.
For a beat, the silence burned hotter than the fight.
Erik’s mouth curved, wolfish, even as his chest rose and fell. “Knew it,” he muttered, low and rough. “Knew you wasn’t just a pretty face sittin’ in some booth.” His eyes dragged down her body, slow. “You nasty with it. Just my type.”
Nali’s smirk cut sharp, though her pulse still thundered. “Nigga, you dragged me into this.” She tossed the bottle aside, glass shattering. “I came here to close a deal, not catch stray bullets ‘cause you needed to flex your dick in public.”
Erik’s grin widened, dark, teeth flashing. “Don’t act brand new. You been flexin’ that mouth at me all night. You wanted the smoke.”
She barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. “What I wanted was a payday. What I got was you fingerin’ me in a hallway, then blowin’ the spot up like some sloppy-ass rookie.”
His expression flickered—amusement giving way to something sharper, harder. He stepped into her space, close enough her back hit brick.
“Rookie?” he repeated, low and dangerous. “Girl, I just cleared a whole room of armed niggas while still keepin’ your ass breathin’. That sound sloppy to you?”
Nali tilted her head, smirk never slipping, even as his heat pressed into her. “Sound like ego to me.”
Their breaths tangled, hot, sharp. Her lipstick smeared, his chain glinting, their bodies still buzzing from gunfire and almost-fucking.
“You mouthy as fuck,” Erik muttered, his grin returning, wolfish. “Keep runnin’ it, I’ma shut it down myself.”
Nali’s eyes glittered, her smirk lazy. “Try it, then.”
That was all it took.
He grabbed her jaw, mouth crashing to hers, rough, all teeth and tongue. She bit back, sharp enough to draw blood, and he groaned into it, pressing harder. Her nails clawed his neck, his hand fisted in her hair, pulling until she gasped against him.
The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was a fight—wet, messy, brutal. Their mouths crashed like fists, their tongues clashed like knives. Every drag of his teeth across her lip, every scrape of her nails down his skin, just stoked the fire higher.
When he finally pulled back, blood slicked the corner of his mouth. He licked it slow, eyes burning.
“Mm,” he rasped, voice rough, filthy. “Knew that pussy wasn’t the only thing wet for me.”
Nali smirked, breathless but unbothered, wiping her smeared lipstick with the back of her hand. “You talk too fuckin’ much.”
And then she kissed him again, harder.
The door slammed behind them, metal clanging shut on the alley’s echo.
Nali twisted her wrist free from Erik’s grip, heels clattering on concrete as she stalked ahead. “You drag me through one more street like I’m your damn puppy—”
Erik smirked, breath heavy, sweat gleaming at his temple. “Coulda left you back there. You complainin’, but you followin’.”
She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but her keys were already out, sliding into the lock of a steel door tucked between two shuttered shops. One twist, one shove, and they stepped into a narrow stairwell.
Up one flight. Then two. Nali’s pulse was still hammering, her thighs sticky, her body screaming from the half-fuck Erik had torn away. She opened the last door with a hard shoulder and let him into her world.
The safehouse was spare, efficient. Couch. Metal table. A few bottles. Cash stacked under a glass ashtray. A gun tucked under a folded jacket. No frills, no softness.
Erik scanned the room with a wolf’s grin. “Mm. Thought so. Knew you wasn’t just runnin’ little side hustles.” He dragged his tongue across his teeth, eyes cutting back to her. “You been hidin’ your claws.”
Nali poured herself a drink with hands steadier than her pulse, tossed it back, then poured another. Her voice was lazy, cool. “You always talk this much after you almost get shot?”
Erik snatched the glass from her before she could lift it, downed it in one swallow, and set it aside with a thunk. Then he stepped closer, slow, his shadow swallowing hers.
“You always wet this much after killin’ a man?” he asked, voice low, filthy, daring.
Her smirk twitched sharp, her jaw tight, but she didn’t flinch. She tilted her chin up, eyes gleaming. “Try me.”
The silence burned for one long beat—then they snapped.
Mouths crashed, brutal. His hands fisted in her hair, hers clawing at his jacket. Teeth clashed, tongues fought, the kiss more violence than tenderness. He shoved her back, hard enough her shoulders hit the wall, and she dragged him with her, biting his lip until blood smeared across both their mouths.
“Fuck,” he groaned against her, voice guttural. “You gon’ give me a scar.”
“Earned it,” she shot back, breathless, eyes flashing.
He growled, tore at her dress, fabric ripping sharp. She yanked his chain, dragging him down, nails digging into his chest as he wrestled her toward the bedroom door.
They stumbled through it, mouths never breaking.
The bed was bare but wide. He shoved her down onto it, her back hitting the sheets, her thighs spread as he crawled over her, chain swinging heavy against her chest.
“Finally,” he muttered, voice rough, filthy. His hand slid down, ripping her panties aside, fingers dragging through her soaked heat. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this pussy since the bar. Wet like you was beggin’ me already.”
Nali gasped, her smirk curling even as her hips arched. “Beggin’? Nigga, you the one foamin’ at the mouth since I walked in.”
His grin was wolfish. “Keep talkin’, ma. I’ll fuck the slick right out that mouth.”
He lined up, pressing the thick head against her, dragging it through her wetness, smearing her slick across his length. The wet sound filled the room, obscene.
“Mm,” he hummed, pressing harder, just nudging in enough to stretch her, to make her gasp sharp. “You feel that? Pussy tight as fuck, like it’s waitin’ on me. Like it know who I am already.”
Her nails clawed at his shoulders, legs wrapping high around his waist, smirk breaking into a half-moan, half-laugh. “Then quit talkin’, nigga. Prove it.”
He growled deep in his chest, grabbed her hips, and drove into her hard, bottoming out in one brutal stroke.
The sound she made was raw, broken, her back arching clean off the bed.
“Shiiit—”
Erik’s jaw clenched, a guttural groan tearing out of him as her pussy clutched him, hot and wet, pulling him deeper. He stilled, savoring it, buried to the base, his breath ragged against her neck.
“Fuck,” he muttered, grinding slow, deep. “Made for me. Look at you—squeezin’ me like you scared I’ll pull out.”
Her nails carved lines down his back, dragging red. “Shut the fuck up,” she gasped, but her hips rolled up, grinding into him, desperate.
He grinned against her jaw, voice low and filthy. “Nah, you like it when I talk. Got you wetter every time I open my mouth. Pussy tellin’ on you.”
He pulled back slow, dragging out slick and hot, then slammed back in, the wet slap echoing through the room.
Nali choked on a moan, biting his shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Fuck you—”
“You tryin’,” he groaned, fucking her harder, rougher, each thrust punctuated with his words. “But it’s me fuckin’ you. Me fillin’ this pussy. Me makin’ you—” he bottomed out hard, grinding until she cried out—“lose that calm.”
His thrusts turned brutal, pounding deep, the bedframe groaning under every snap of his hips. The wet sound was obscene, her pussy clenching loud enough to echo in the small room. Sweat slicked their skin, his chain smacking against her chest with every grind.
“Shit—” Nali gasped, legs locked high around his waist, nails digging into his back. “You—” Her voice caught on another sharp moan as he bottomed out, hard. “You ain’t doin’ shit but sweatin’ on me—”
Erik laughed through his groan, low and filthy, grinding in deep so she felt every inch. “Yeah? Pussy screamin’ a whole different story, ma. She lovin’ me. Grippin’ like she don’t wanna let me go.”
Her hand shot up, grabbing his chain and yanking him down until their foreheads slammed together. Her voice was a whisper and a growl all at once. “Keep talkin’. See who taps out first.”
That hit him like lighter fluid. He slammed into her harder, faster, every thrust brutal, his teeth scraping her neck, his breath hot and ragged.
“Mm—fuck—” he growled against her skin. “You gon’ break first. You already close. I feel it—this pussy floodin’ my dick, squeezin’ like you ready to give up that calm—”
Nali choked on a moan, smirk cracking, her hips rolling back to meet him with vicious rhythm. “I—don’t break—”
“Yeah, you do.” He drove in deep, sharp, making her cry out raw. “Hear that? That ain’t cool. That’s you losin’ it.”
Her nails raked down his chest, carving red. Her laugh broke into a moan. “Fuck—”
Erik’s grin turned savage. He shifted, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her deeper, driving in harder. The angle had her clawing at the sheets, her head thrashing back, every thrust hitting sharp against her walls.
“Ohh—shit—Erik—”
“That’s it,” he rasped, pounding her rough, his jaw clenched tight. “Say my name like you mean it. Louder.”
Her voice cracked, filthy and raw. “F-fuck—Erik—”
His pace stuttered, groan tearing through his chest. He slammed in harder, faster, every word punctuated with a thrust.
“Yeah—take it. Pussy mine tonight. Say it.”
Her moans came sharp, broken, her body bucking under him. “Fuck—fuck you—”
He growled, biting her shoulder, fucking her through it. “Already doin’ that.”
Her walls clenched tight, wetness spilling, soaking down his length. The rhythm broke, both of them teetering at the edge, bodies shaking, breaths ragged.
Nali’s cool shattered completely as her climax ripped through her—sharp, filthy cries breaking free, her thighs trembling around his waist, her pussy clutching him so tight he cursed low and vicious into her neck.
“Fuck—mm—pussy squeezin’—fuck—”
He slammed in one last brutal thrust, grinding deep, jaw tight, spilling into her with a guttural groan, his voice hot and filthy against her ear. “Take all that. Feel me? All mine.”
The room reeked of sweat, sex, smoke. Their bodies stayed tangled, slick and panting, nails and teeth marks written across each other’s skin.
Neither softened. Neither whispered. The silence after was sharp, heavy.
Erik leaned back, breath ragged, chain swinging between them, his grin wolfish even as sweat dripped down his temple.
“Mm,” he rasped, still inside her, still pulsing. “Told you. You don’t stay cool with me.”
Nali’s lips curled, lazy, sharp, her voice husky with wreckage. “Erik, please. You're the one about to pass out.”
The room stank of sweat and smoke. The sheets were twisted, damp, clinging to skin.
Nali pulled herself free first, slipping off the bed with a lazy roll, robe knotted around her waist. Her body ached in the best and worst ways, thighs trembling when she stood. She ignored it, poured herself another drink, glass clinking against the bottle.
Behind her, Erik sat on the edge of the bed, bare chest gleaming with sweat, chain heavy against his collarbone. He wiped his face with a rag, muscles flexing, breath still rough.
Silence stretched between them, sharp instead of soft. No tenderness, no whispered nothings. Just the sound of liquor pouring, fabric rustling, the faint buzz of the city through the window.
Erik broke it first.
“Told you,” he muttered, voice rough but smug. “Don’t nobody stay cool with me.”
Nali’s laugh was sharp, low, sliding out lazy as smoke. “Nigga, please. You the one beggin’ for air halfway through. Looked like you was fightin’ for your life.”
He smirked, leaning back on one arm, unbothered. “That’s ‘cause I was. Pussy tryin’ to kill me, grippin’ like it ain’t never had nothin’ real before.”
She sipped her drink, turned, leaned against the table, robe hanging loose. Her eyes cut across him, steady. “Funny. That what you call real? Smashin’ like some dog in heat after gettin’ half the club shot up?”
Erik’s grin widened, teeth flashing. “Better than lettin’ them corny-ass hustlers waste your time.”
The words landed heavy.
Nali tilted her head, slow, sipping again. “Mm. Funny thing ‘bout that.” She set her glass down, fingers tapping the rim. “Soon as you slid in my booth, they folded. Bolted like somebody lit fire under they asses.” Her eyes locked on his, cool, sharp. “Almost like they knew you was comin’.”
Erik’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it curved darker.
Nali’s smile thinned. “That was you, huh?”
He shrugged one shoulder, unbothered. “Had to see how you moved. Can’t run with me if I don’t know you gon’ bleed right.” His tone was casual, like he was telling her the weather.
Her jaw tightened, but her voice stayed smooth. “So you set me up.”
“Tested you.” He stood, closing the distance, heat rolling off his skin. “Big difference.”
Nali didn’t move. Just lifted her glass again, slow sip, eyes never leaving his. Her smirk was lazy, but venom dripped under it. “You played me like I was one of your little pawns.”
Erik leaned close, so close his chain brushed her chest, his voice low and dangerous. “Nah. I played you like an equal. Rest of ‘em? They wouldn’t have made it through the night. You did.”
The air between them thickened, smoke and sweat and tension. Her nails itched to claw his skin again, her lips itched to bite—but her hand flexed like it wanted to wrap around a knife just as bad.
Finally, she laughed—low, lazy, sharp as broken glass. She poured another drink, the splash loud in the silence.
“Keep playin’ with knives, mfethu,” she murmured, sipping smooth. “One day, you gon’ bleed for real.”
Erik’s grin curved wider, wolfish, heat flashing in his eyes.
“Maybe,” he said. “But it ain’t gon’ be tonight.”
The glass clinked against her teeth as she drank, smirk curling, eyes locked on him like she was already deciding if she’d slit his throat or fuck him again.
The glass was halfway to her mouth when the window shattered.
The first bullet punched through the wall, splintering wood. The next took the glass clean from her hand, shards and liquor spraying across the table.
Erik moved before she breathed—gun already drawn, body shoving hers down behind the couch.
“Stay low,” he barked, muzzle flashing as he fired back through the window.
“Fuck that,” Nali snapped, rolling across the floor, robe whipping open as she snatched the pistol tucked under the folded jacket on the table. Her hair was wild, lipstick smeared, her thighs still sticky from him, but her grip was steady as she snapped off two shots and dropped a silhouette in the alley.
Erik grinned even as bullets tore plaster over his head. “Knew it,” he muttered. “Knew you wasn’t no pawn.”
“Shut up and shoot,” she hissed, sliding beside him.
They moved like they’d done this for years. Erik blasting holes through the walls, pushing forward. Nali flanking sharp, low, every shot clean. When a gunman broke through the door, she smashed a bottle across his skull and shoved the jagged neck into his throat without breaking rhythm.
“Cold,” Erik muttered, eyes gleaming as he dropped two more through the window.
“You wanted a partner,” she fired back, breath ragged, smoke curling around them. “This what it looks like.”
The safehouse roared with violence—shouts, gunfire, the metallic tang of blood. The floor slicked red in places, glass crunching under their feet.
Erik reloaded quick, sliding her a spare clip without looking. She caught it clean, locked it in, popped up to fire three rounds into a man climbing through the frame.
“Mm,” Erik grunted, heat flashing through his smirk even as he snapped another shot. “Movein’ like you was built for me.”
Nali’s laugh came sharp between her teeth. “Don’t flatter yourself, mfethu. I move like I’m built to survive.”
“Same fuckin’ thing,” he growled, blowing a hole through the last man standing.
Silence dropped heavy, thick with smoke and cordite.
Bodies littered the floor, the stench of blood hot in the room. Erik lowered his gun, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. Nali wiped liquor and glass off her arm, smirk curling slow even as her breath stayed sharp.
Their eyes met across the wreckage.
For a long beat, neither spoke. The air between them was the same as it had been on the bed, in the club, in the fight: hot, dangerous, filthy with tension.
Finally, Erik chuckled low, a wolfish sound, holstering his weapon. “Told you. Ride with me, Nali. World ain’t got shit to stop us.”
She smirked, rolling her shoulders, pistol still in hand. “Or maybe it just ain’t tried hard enough yet.”
The safehouse was silent except for the slow drip of blood onto the floorboards.
Bodies sprawled crooked, glass crunching under boots. The air was thick with smoke and iron, every breath sharp with the taste of violence.
Erik leaned against the wall, chest heaving, gun loose in his hand. Sweat rolled down his temple, chain clinking faint when he shifted. His grin was there still, sharp and wolfish, like the fight had only fed him.
Across the room, Nali stood over a corpse, pistol still raised. Her robe hung half-open, streaked with ash and blood, her hair wild around her face. She didn’t look scared. She didn’t look tired. She looked alive — electric, pulsing with the same heat that had carried her through the bed and the bullets.
Her eyes cut across the wreckage to him, cool and steady.
“So this your empire?” she asked, voice lazy, smooth, though her throat was raw. She nudged a body with her heel. “Ashes and corpses? Real shiny crown, mfethu.”
Erik chuckled low, dark, licking blood from his lip. “Ain’t about shiny. It’s about who’s left standin’ when the smoke clears.” His gaze dragged over her, heat and danger tangled. “And look at that… still you and me.”
Nali tilted her head, smirk curling, eyes glittering. “For now.”
The silence that followed burned hotter than fire. Their bodies were wrecked, their mouths still tasted of blood, their hearts beat like drums against cracked ribs. And still — neither stepped back.
Erik pushed off the wall, slow, his boots crunching glass as he closed the distance. He stopped in front of her, close enough their breath tangled, heat rising off both their bodies. His grin curved sharp.
“You gon’ bleed me one day?” he asked, low, almost amused.
Nali sipped air like it was liquor, her smirk lazy, venomous. “Only if you stop bein’ useful.”
For a long beat, they just stared, the world around them rotting in blood and silence.
Then Erik laughed, rough and filthy, chain swinging as he leaned close enough his mouth brushed her ear.
“Guess that makes us a team,” he muttered.
Nali’s lips twitched, half-smile sharp as a blade. “Guess.”
The safehouse stank of death. Their skin still stank of sex.
No promises. No trust. Just two predators standing over the ashes, bound together by the wreckage they’d made.
And whether they’d build an empire or burn each other next — no one in Wakanda could stop them.
