Your Fave Smut Enthusiast

Tiara | 20s | reader | 18+ | minors DNI MY WRITINGS

[writingsbytee]

S M U T | C E N T R A L

Hi everyone! Welcome to my masterlist. My name's Tiara or Tee and thank you so much for coming to my little corner of Tumblr and consuming my work 🫶🏾 This is a safe space. I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT tolerate bullying/hate of any kind! However, I will defend myself, so find something safe to do. I'm VERY open to requests, I tried to post it in my bio, but I'm not sure if anyone can see it. Nothing is too out there, if you have a request or a suggestion for a fic that you'd like to see my spin on, shoot me a DM! Happy Reading<3

*I write black characters for black readers*

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

A A R O N | P I E R R E

M I C H A E L | B. | J O R D A N

TAGLIST

SINNERS / MBJ TAGLIST

UPDATED: 11/29/2025

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine: Part FOUR

More nasty ass Erik !!!!!!!!!!! + adding two other requests for Erik giving reader anal and it’s painful/Reader choking Erik back for the first time and he moans.

I might as well make this a series because I’m in part four of this shit. Here is more of Erik freak ass and Y/N giving her pussy up. Multiple times.

**RE UPLOAD**

Y/N and Erik took their fucking and sucking to her dorm room whenever Brandy was away with Erik’s friend. She complained to him about how small her bed was for them to fuck and sleep on but Erik didn’t care. They were both on their way back from grabbing a quick meal through a drive-thru. Still slurping up his lemonade, Erik stood behind Y/N with her book bag slung over his shoulder and his eyes staring at her ass. She had on these high waisted jeans with a butt rip under her right ass cheek. Those fucking jeans hugged so tight they looked painted on. Looking like a goddamn canvas.

“Lil mama, if you don’t open this fucking door up.” He could not look away from her ass. Then she had the nerve to wear one of those tiny ass shirts again. The front read Trap and Sex in hot pink lettering and the rest of the shirt was colored white.

“Daddy, my keys are twisted in my earphones,” she was struggling with the iPhone earphones tangled in the chains and key links of her unnecessarily heavy keys.

“You want me to get you some AirPods?”

Y/N beamed up at Erik with her pretty white smile, “You would actually do that for me?”

“Yes,” Erik grabs her keys, “Which one?”

“The silver one with the orange sticker on it,” she pointed at it with her long coffin-shaped gel acrylic nails painted this pretty salmon pink color. Each key for every dorm had a designated sticker. Her dorm complex all had orange stickers. While Erik fumbles with the door, Y/N takes his cup to drink the rest of his lemonade. She only got one suck in before it was all gone. Kissing her teeth, she pulled the top off and started eating his ice. Her glossy lips smacked and her teeth crunched as she chewed.

Erik held the door open for Lil Mama while she easily walked in from under his outstretched arm. She was 5’ 5 so it was a breeze. Her door clicked shut softly and now they were inside of her warm dorm room. Erik sat Y/N’s book bag down on the small black suede couch bed before kicking off his Nike VaporMax Plus with a black, white, and grey colorway. Y/N tried to clean up the living room a bit but Erik was already used to seeing Y/N and Brandy’s mess. Wigs with mannequin heads, Sephora make up bags, unopened packages, heels, textbooks, and an assortment of PS4 video games.

“Y’all some fucking slobs,” Erik unzipped his black Nike Therma training vest revealing a white Henley long sleeve top underneath that bunched around his biceps and pectorals.

“This space is so small our storage bins can’t hold everything, Erik,” Y/N grabbed the freshly washed wigs and mannequins to place in a corner behind a stack of storage bins to make space.

“All this time you’ve been staying here and you didn’t get a dresser?”

“I have one,” she said while smoothing down a pink wig in her hand, “it’s too damn full.”

“So, you basically brought your whole bedroom to campus?” He chuckles, “you’re silly, ma.”

“Leave me alone,” she pouted like a baby.

Erik mocked her pout making his eyes soft and blinking his long lashes. She giggled at him before turning around to put the wig away.

“Brandy not coming back tonight, right?” Erik pulls out a blunt that he had rolled nice and tight for tonight.

“Nah, she’s with your friend, remember?”

Erik puffed out smoke, “So that means I can be in that pussy all over this dorm room?”

“Yes.” She answered without hesitation. This was her Daddy. He could fuck her anywhere. If that nigga said to drop to your knees in public she would drop to her knees. If he told her to give that pussy up she would bend over in half for him and not think twice about the people around them. She’s been craving his big dick all day during classes. He had her so wet and sticky that she had to make a stop in the women’s bathroom during her free period to rub her clit into a squirting orgasm. She wished he could have seen the mess she made on that floor. Y/N always squirted when she had her clit rubbed or sucked on.

“Yes what, Lil Mama?”

“Yes, Big Daddy.” She spoke with the sweetest voice. It almost made Erik’s tooth hurt with how sweet and angelic she sounded.

“You’re such a good girl for me all the time. So submissive for Daddy, ain’t that right, Lil Mama?”

“Mhm, yes.” Y/N was obsessed with the dick and all of Erik honestly. He didn’t even have to fuck her to have her hooked. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if her Daddy left her.

“Girl,” He shook his head before resting it back against the couch, blowing his smoke into the air, “I’m about to punish that pussy…I’m dead fucking serious.”

Y/N closed her eyes in bliss while nibbling on her bottom lip.

“Keep biting on that lip ima bite it myself.” Oh, she needed a reminder. Erik already had her ass in the car.

Erik tongued Y/N’s mouth down in that drive-thru making the people behind them honk their horns and yell. He was practically sucking and fucking her face. She was squirming in that seat with her legs up and hands gripping the seat belt. His tongue was so damn good in her mouth. Her head fell lazily back and off to the side like she was fainting from the way he kissed her. Erik then grabbed her neck to hold her still before removing his tongue from her throat, a long trail of spit connecting with hers. She had to reward him with her hand in his sweats using her thumb to stroke the tip of his dick.

“Think I’m playing, Y/N, I will tear your little ass up in here.”

Y/N’s lip slowly released from between her teeth. It was swollen and blushed from how much she chewed on the pouty flesh. She rubbed her glossy lips together before giving Erik an innocent smile.

“I was just saying how much of a good girl you are but you must want daddy to punish you, huh?”

His head fell back against the couch again, Erik widening his legs to invite her over to him. He had those sexy deep brown eyes on her and his full bottom lip between his teeth.

“C’mere,” He said with a suppressed voice. Erik took both of his thumbs to pull back the waistband of his sweats and briefs. Erik’s groomed pubic hair was revealed to her lustful eyes and with one thrust of his hips, both pieces of fabric came down and rested under his muscular ass while his moisturized, lengthy, girthy, and magnificent black dick popped out and swung up and down like a pendulum. He jerked his hips and made his dick jump. Y/N loves it when he makes his dick jump. Lifting up the sleeves to his Henley, Erik takes his left hand to grab the base of his dick. She could hear the skin move up and down and she could see the veins of his shaft rolling each time his wrist covered with a Piaget watch twisted expertly to give himself the perfect stroke.

“C’mere.” He scrunched his face while biting the corner of his bottom lip, “you know what Daddy likes. Come suck me, Lil Mama.”

Y/N got down on her hands and knees and crawled to Erik. Once there, she squeezed herself between his legs and the coffee table in the dorm room. Now that she was on her knees between his legs, Y/N picked Erik’s dick up with her small hand, giving it a nice squeeze. Erik’s eyes rolled shut and his bottom lip poked out showing Y/N his gold canines. Using her slender pink tongue, Y/N licked from Erik’s delicious sack, the smooth base of his dick, up his length, and to that pre-cum oozing tip.

“Ooo,” she moaned before making a hissing sound with her teeth. She squeezed her Daddy’s big dick again and more of that syrupy goodness seeped out. That same pink tongue licked around the head of his thickness before her soft and unyielding lips cloaked him.

“Damn, Lil Mama. You can suck some dick, girl. Look at your little freaky ass. Suck this Daddy dick, cutie pie.”

Y/N inhaled Erik’s dick with no hands.

“Oh, shit,” Erik chuckles, “look at that pretty mouth on you.”

With her round eyes on him, Y/N made her jaws extra tight, breathing through her nose, and pulling all of him into her mouth. Erik’s hand came up to grab her puff, using the curly strands to pull her mouth off his dick. Erik stuck his tongue out at her, flicking it. Y/N leans forward, Erik’s hand around her neck, bringing her in to flick his tongue with hers. After a rather nasty tongue thrash that had Y/N’s lip dripping with Erik’s spit, he playfully slaps her face causing her to gasp.

“Throat deeper than a motherfucker,” He places two of his fingers into her mouth, “You can fit all of Daddy’s big dick in that nasty mouth.”

Y/N gags around Erik’s fingers. He takes them out slowly, rubbing it down the length of her tongue then over her bottom lip.

“Shit, look at what you got my dick doing.”

Each time his dick bobbled up and down his balls would jump. Still covered with spit and still just as rock hard as before. Erik and Y/N glanced at each other before turning their attention back to his beautiful cum stick. Reaching his left hand up, Erik takes his pointer finger to circle his slit mixing the pre-cum with Y/N’s saliva. He lifted that finger and she could see a slimy string of pre-cum. Her tongue rolled out of her mouth. She let it stick out as far as it could go. Erik made her suck on his finger then with a forceful hand he grabs the back of her neck bringing her lips to his dick again for her to suck.

“Yeah, Lil Freak,” Erik widened his legs more, “Make Daddy cum…shit…why you sucking me like that? LOOK AT ME…why are you sucking my dick like that?” He playfully slaps her again, “why?”

“Because I want Daddy to cum for me.”

“That’s right. Good girl. Make Daddy’s big dick cum. Show me you worked so hard for that shit.”

“Like this,” she slurped him up causing Erik’s lips to part and his hands coming up to cover his eyes.

“Just like that,” he lifts his shirt up so she could have a view of his defined body that he worked so hard to achieve, “girl, you got my nuts in your mouth. Daddy ain’t even have to ask you. That’s what I’m talking about.”

He never had to ask her to suck him off because she loved that shit. His dick was so damn good in her mouth. She was moaning around a mouth full of dick.

“Damn, I’m keeping you…best believe I’m keeping you, Lil Mama.”

Yes, Daddy-“ she sucked.

“Daddy turned you out?” He gave her a coy smirk.

“Uh-Huh, Daddy-“ she sucked.

“Hmph- oh my God, girl-Ah-sh-shittttttt,” she felt his thick cum hit the back of her throat, “shitttt…shitttttt,” she kept her lips sealed around his dick, still sucking just as hard. Y/N was cum hungry, “oh yeah? Oh yeah? Keep sucking my shit keep-fuckkkkkkk,” Erik has more for her. Y/N graciously took it and slurped it down with no problem, “FUCK YES.”

Finally finished drinking his cum, Y/N slowly pulled her lips off but not before French kissing his thick head. The leering expression on his face and the way he shook his head made Y/N want to suck his dick again just because of his reaction.”

“Turn around and bend over for Daddy to see.”

Y/N got up, bending over the coffee table to show how her tight jeans stretched out over her ass and that rip under her right ass cheek separating even more. She looked back at him with a pout of her lips and blinking patient eyes. She started rolling her hips for him in slow motion. Erik reaches out and pops her ass so intensely that Y/N yelps. Erik takes his fingers, pulling on that rip and distressing her jeans even more. Now she has a big ass hole there with some of the jean material hanging.

“Daddy-“

“Girl, I don’t give a fuck about these jeans. Take all this shit off now.”

Y/N stands up, undoing her jeans and pulling them down. She bends over to get her feet out and now Erik could see her bright yellow thong.

“You so damn thick, Lil Mama, damn,” He smacks both her ass cheeks, “Daddy love all this,” Erik squeezes her ass, then both his hands came out to jiggle her prominent flesh, “Put my face in this ass and eat it the fuck up, ma.”

She felt heat prickle her skin.

“Yes, eat this ass and phat pussy, Daddy,” She encouraged him, “here,” she spread her cheeks showing him exactly what he wanted to see, “this ass and phat pussy, yeah?”

“All that ass and phat fucking pussy, bitch,” He rubs her asshole with his finger, “You hella tight back here…can’t even fit my fucking finger in.”

“This a virgin ass, Daddy. Ain’t no dick been in there,” she laughs. Y/N used small butt plugs before but that was it. She never thought about trying anal for herself because she was too chicken to do it but now, she could try it out for her Daddy.

“No dick been in here?” Erik asks with a low tone.

“Nope, none, Daddy.”

“So what does that mean for me?” He was rubbing her pussy lips now, squeezing them, and spreading them.

“You can take my ass if you want.”

“You sure?” Now he was thumbing her labia, “I got a big dick on me, Ma, it’s too much to handle.”

“I’ll be a good girl…” he was teasing her clit now.

“Be a good girl and give this ass up? If you say yes that means I get to take that ass and you can’t stop me. Once I’m in there I’m gon’ beat that tight ass up.”

Y/N knew how long and girthy Erik was but she wanted to try his big dick in her ass. Y/N wanted to see if she could handle him.

“I promise I’ll let you beat it up just like this pussy.”

“Oh…you getting it tonight, fuck that.”

Erik stood up, grabbing Y/N and throwing her over his shoulder so he could play with her ass cheeks. They walked into her shared dorm room that was just as messy as her mini living room. He was gonna make her clean up but first, he needed his dick wet. He tossed her down to her bed, pulling her Trap and Sex shirt off and then her bra.

“Trap and Sex?” He sucked on her nipples, “That means you like fucking to trap music, Lil Mama? Pop that pussy and twerk that big ass on the dick? Fuck this pink puss to the beat?”

“Mmmm, baybee,” Erik motorboated her breasts causing her to giggle. She opens her legs for him so he could play all in her wet pussy and suck her titties at the same time.

“Got the pussy all open and shit,” Erik didn’t waste no time taking his three fingers, curling them, and fucking her pussy all the way down to the base of his fingers. She gushed and slushed all over him. It was so easy for him to slide his fingers in and out. He was still sucking her nipples and biting them. Y/N used all the strength in her thighs to keep them spread open and raised up while she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I see you, pretty girl, I see you opening them legs to give Daddy more of that phat pussy.”

Her head fell back and her left hand came down to rub circles on her clit. She was creaming all the way down to her asshole. Bed sheets stained too.

“Got all this phat puss and ass. This shit is mine. Daddy only fucking you. You better not give this pussy to none of them little niggas or I’m punishing you. You hear me?”

“Yes! Oh, God, Erik-“

“Come correct, ma, it’s Daddy.”

Her puffy inner folds and clit were so warm and swollen from how fast she rubbed.

“Move your fucking hands. Keeping that juicy clit away from me. You tryna be stingy?”

“N-no,” she opened her pussy lips, “here you go, Daddy. It’s all yours…mmm…it’s all yours.”

“All this pink sweet pussy?” Erik stuck his tongue way out and thrashed it under the hood of her clit all over that shit. He got every single inch of her and now she was leaking for him. He always had her cumming fast with that mouth of his.

“Daddy, my clit is so hard…” She looked at him with defeated eyes.

“I know, that’s why I’m about to suck on it for you. Got my dick down here hurting for some of this good puss.” Erik wraps his lips around her clit and labia with those pussy riding lips he got. He was making her precious pussy cum. Her Daddy always gave her good licks and sucks.

“This pussy talking to me, Lil Mama, she wants me to put this dick in,” Erik stood up, pulling his sweats and briefs off uncaring about his shirt, “I’m fucking you just like this.”

His mouth-watering dick bounced as he positioned himself over her. He was so rough with the way he pulled her legs apart and back to her ears. Erik gripped the bottom of her bare feet firmly while using the power of his hips to drill into her pussy. That phat puss was happy to be taking some of him again. Every time felt like the first time with Erik. She was outrageously wet. His mature and violent strokes inside her once innocent pussy has Y/N talking in tongues.

“You like giving this pussy up to Daddy.”

“Yes!” She grabs Erik’s chain around his neck.

“You tryna choke Daddy out?” He spoke in a harsh tone that had her shivering.

“Mhm,” she tightened the chain causing it to cut into his skin, “choke Daddy back just like I fuck Daddy back.”

She could see his skin bruising from how tight she had his chain around his neck. Erik slowed down his strokes, his eyes hard and nostrils flared. Y/N let his chain go and used her own hand to grab his neck. She pulled Erik down to her mouth where she tongued his lips and sucked on them. He swiveled his hips inside of her and just allowed her wetness to hug him while they kissed. He was moaning in her mouth. No grunts or groans, straight moans. The tighter she made her hands the more he moaned while they kissed. Erik sounded so damn sexy moaning.

Ahhhh… *hisses* ahhhh… *hisses* ahhhh

He said that over and over with his raspy tone of voice. It was beautiful to hear a man moan and not be afraid to. When she let his neck go he gave her a deep desirable look that had her reaching out for his neck again.

“Ooooohmmm,” he moaned with his eyes on her, “Yeah, Lil Mama, choke me out like that.”

“Daddy I want you to moan for me, please?”

“I gotchu, ma,” Erik sucked on her fingers, “Ima moan while I fuck this pussy.”

“Fuck, yeah, Daddy.” Y/N lifts Erik’s shirt from his body, tossing it on the floor. He stroked her with his head hanging low to watch the way he dicked her down.

“Ain’t gon’ find dick like this again,” Erik watched his balls slap her ass with each stroke and his dick stretching her out, “Got me over here taking this wet wet showing you how a real nigga fuck some pussy.”

“Daddy-“

“You ain’t even gotta tell me, ma, I know this pussy ready to bust all over me. Cum on this daddy dick… you keeping it away from me?” He tilted his head down at her while his dick murdered her slit, “gimmie that shit…mhmm, mhmm…cum-on-this-dick.”

“Shittttttttt, baybeeeee,” She shook under him as she released on his dick. Erik smiles at her while Y/N’s eyes rolled shut. He pulls his dick out for her to see what she’d done. Creamy and dripping wet.

“Lick me up,” He ordered.

Y/N licked him like an ice cream cone, cleaning him all off.

“You got some lube, ma?”

“Yeah,” She got up on wobbly legs, walking over to her dresser. Erik sits down on the edge of the bed to remove his socks before falling back with his hand around his dick, jerking it. In Y/N’s periphery, she could see her Daddy’s balls jump and his hand twist and pull on himself. She moved her ankle socks and panties to the side to reveal a bottle of grape-flavored lube she received in a goodie bag from her other campus friend Morgan’s toy party. They were gonna need the whole bottle with how big his pipe is and how tight her asshole is. She walked back over to him, sitting the lube on the bed and as if compelled, sucked the tip of his dick while he jerked his stiffness.

“Can’t keep this dick out your mouth for nothing,” Erik laughs before grunting deep, “look at you tryna suck me like a straw, Lil nasty ass. I like that shit. C’mon, I’m tryna cum in your ass.”

Y/N’s mouth popped off and Erik stood up from the bed to stand behind her.

“You know how I like it. Face down, ass up.”

Y/N got into position. She felt his dick hit the back of her thigh. All that thick meat was about to enter her ass. She shivered from how nervous she was. Erik got down on his knees while his right hand pumped his dick. He puts his tongue in her ass and the second she felt that snake-like tongue wiggle and that spit drizzle down to her pussy she let out a sharp moan. She couldn’t see his face since he was all between her cheeks but damn she wanted him to see her expression. Her eyes watered and her mouth was wide with pure shock. His wet tongue was stabbing at her asshole. She reached back to hold her cheeks open. Erik mumbled something but he was too busy eating her booty she couldn’t understand a word he said.

He finally resurfaced with a shiny face, “Damn, I could feel that ass clenching around my tongue,” Erik opened her pussy wide, “all my spit just chilling in this creamy shit,” he leaned in to suck her clit slowly before letting go with a pop of his lips, “Y/N…I swear to God, ma…pass a nigga that lube!”

She quickly handed it over to him. Erik popped the cap on it, squeezing out so much of it to slather over his dick. Y/N could smell the grape flavoring of the lube. Erik was drenched in that shit. He takes some from his dick, bringing it to Y/N’s virgin ass to finger her there with it. She was gripping his fingers. Every time his knuckle would enter her she clenched around him.

“You gotta relax, ma,” Erik instructed, “I know you can’t help it but relaxing is the only way I can fuck this ass, you hear me?”

“Yes, sorry,” she breathed evenly to steady herself.

“Good girl. You ready?” Erik stood behind Y/N.

“Please,” That was enough of a response for him. Lil Mama just didn’t know what she was getting herself into with Erik. He fucked ass just like he fucked pussy. Had chicks crying. But the pussy still came so they ended up asking for more. His good girl could take some dick like a champ though. He wanted to see if she could hold her record.

Erik instructed for Y/N to grip the sheets. Erik began to ease his large member into her tight, bubbling ass. Y/N closed her eyes and tightened her fists around the sheets to distract herself when Erik entered her. She couldn’t believe how much pressure and pain she was feeling. Y/N tried to breathe slowly and steadily to calm herself as he penetrated deeper into her ass.

“Oh my God,” Erik slaps her ass, “Baby, this ass is so tight on my dick. You’re pulling on my dick right now.”

Erik eased out and went back into her even further than before. Y/N gasped and inhaled as she felt the pressure from him reentering her.

“Lil Mama, I’m done teasing you I’m ready to fuck this ass, you good?” He was desperate.

“Y-yes,” she spoke with her face in the sheets.

Erik grabbed Y/N by the waist and slammed into her.

Y/N screamed, “Daddy!!!!!” She reaches back to push at his chest, “Daddy, nooooo, Not yet! Slow down!”

Erik wasn’t listening; the feeling had overtaken him and he was in the zone. Erik slammed into her, then out, then bam! Back in. Y/N’s legs were weakening and she could barely keep her back arched to take all of his daddy dick. Every time she would move Erik would fix her arch as he rammed into her.

Y/N pleaded, “Daddy! Please cum! I can’t handle you! Please cum! Please!”

Erik was enjoying this. Hearing her beg him with a weakened tone and deep throaty moans made his dick even harder.

Erik answered, “This is what you wanted, remember? Shut up and let me slam in this ass real good!” He pulled all the way out to the tip. All that lube was needed because his dick went right back in like it never left. She compressed him tighter than that pussy. Erik’s eyes rolled with pleasure each time she clenched him.

“Daddy,” she spoke with a raw throat, “I wanna take Daddy’s dick, I really do, but it hurts.”

Erik groaned, “I’ll go slow to stretch it and you let me know when I can go faster, aight?”

“Okay,” she looked back at him with her watery eyes, “Daddy you really like my ass. You were fucking it so hard,” she spoke with a whisper.

“Your shit is too tight, Lil Mama,” Erik stares down at his lube covered dick stretching her ass out. She gasps each time he hit her deep with the tip of his dick. He had Lil Mama groaning with his dick all in her ass.

“Daddy fucking this ass real good ain’t he.”

“Yeah,” She was starting to get used to the feeling of being stuffed back there, “It’s starting to feel a little better…”

“So, can Daddy go faster?”

She chewed her lip nervously, “Kay.”

“If you want Daddy to cum in you I’m gonna have to slam a little harder than I am to get it out.”

She melted at his words. Erik was so persuasive.

“I understand, Daddy.”

Erik began to beat her ass up harder and faster. Y/N was reminded of the pain yet again but it was subtle and the pleasure was more pronounced. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to accept the way her ass wrapped around Erik and the pressure she could feel in her lower belly. She could understand why people enjoyed anal but damn you had to be a G to take it like this.

As Y/N began to relax she started pumping back onto Erik. This caused Erik to thrust harder into her tightness surrounding him. He held onto Y/N as he fucked her. She was helping him by pushing back against him and saying, “Daddy you’re so full in my ass, you’re fucking the shit outta me!”

“Hmph! Love my dick throbbing in this ass, yes…just bend over for Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Y/N was being trained well to take his big black dick. She rubbed her wet pussy all over and even stuck three fingers in. She finger fucked her juicy box while Erik beat her ass up like fight night.

“Put that work in for Daddy! Good girls take it deep and hard in the ass!”

“YES!” Her ass stung from how hard she clapped back on him. “Yes! Yes! Oh shit, yeah, baby, work this ass! That’s right, fuck the shit outta me!”

“Open that ass up for me-“

“Like this, Daddy,” she spread her cheeks.

“That’s a good girl, let Daddy fill this ass up.”

Erik pounded away until he could no longer hold it. Erik banged his dick in her ass while his balls slapped her clit. The way his dick throbbed had Y/N gasping for air. He gave her one final hard thrust before his load filled her ass up to the brim. Y/N was worn-out from the ass whipping she had endured. Erik was even out of breath and weak.

His dick slid out causing both of them to moan. She rolled over onto her back gently. She looked up at Erik’s drenched body as he stares down at his still hard dick.

“You good, pretty girl?” Erik walked up to sit on the bed next to her. He turned Y/N over onto her back and rubbed her ass. She gave him a weak smile but as soon he opened her ass cheeks to see her lubed up asshole she let out a whimper. She clenched her cheeks but Erik’s grip on her was so firm she couldn’t fight him.

“I got you good, didn’t I?” His voice got deeper and huskier.

“Yes, Daddy,” Y/N said while looking into his dark eyes. They tended to get darker when he was really horny.

“Daddy…I need a break,” Y/N gave him an innocent look that always worked, “Please, Daddy?”

His jaw clenched but then a smirk appeared in his lips, “Aight, Lil Mama. We can take a shower and then I’ll run you a bubble bath, okay?”

She felt so relieved. If she didn’t plead with him to give her a break Erik would be fucking her ass again. That was a lot to handle. Y/N finally stood up from the bed with wobbly ankles. Erik helped her out by carrying her. Y/N didn’t think she would be able to take more dick tonight but knowing Erik he wouldn’t allow that for too long.

———————-

“Oh, you’re a nasty bitch, Y/N.”

Brandy came home the next day around late afternoon with her overnight bag and a bonnet on her head. The place was clean since Y/N had nothing else to do since Erik left. He had plans that evening to meet up with some friends. Y/N was currently filling her friend in on how much sex she’d been having with Erik.

“How big is he?” Brandy asked while studying for her intro to cybersecurity course.

“I don’t know, maybe 9 or 10 inches. And thick girl, whew.”

“And you can take all that now? Erik changed my girl,” Brandy joked.

“I thank you for introducing us.” If it wasn’t for Brandy Y/N wouldn’t have known Erik.

“Nah, it wasn’t me. Erik has been wanting your ass! He asked about you and I just passed on the word that’s all.”

“I miss him,” she pouts, “I won’t see him until tomorrow night.”

“Girl, give your pussy a break!” Brandy shouted playfully.

“I just love fucking with him, Brandy. He makes my body feel so good.”

“So…is he more than a fuck buddy?” Brandy questions.

“I don’t know about all that right now. We like where we are and I don’t wanna push it too far and fuck up our connection.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“Only the basic stuff like where he is originally from and what he’s going to school for and what his interests are. Just the first base stuff.”

Brandy placed her highlighter in the middle of her textbook, “I’m only asking because I can tell that you like him more than just wanting to hop on the dick. You should talk to him, see if he feels the same way.”

“I will,” Y/N spoke softly, “I just don’t want to scare him away.”

“I doubt that,” Brandy giggles, “He is pussy-whipped.”

Y/N couldn’t disagree. Erik would call and text her phone throughout the day just to get a response from her if he couldn’t see her and if he could see Y/N she was always at his place. He even cleared out a top drawer for her things. If she didn’t answer his calls or texts he would be so damn mad and when they finally meet up her pussy was his for the taking.

Disrespectful, bitch. Don’t you ever ignore me again, you hear me, girl? Got me in here fucking the shit out this phat puss. Say sorry to Daddy, bitch, you owe me.

And then she was right on her knees or opening her legs for him.

A slut for this Daddy dick.

No. He didn’t text or call her since he left. What was he up to? She knew he was busy with school as well but damn, he could have at least sent a quick text with kissy-face and tongue emojis. While Brandy studies, Y/N picked up here phone to text Erik.

-Daddy I miss you 😽

She saw his text bubbles and then his message showed up.

-Daddy miss you too.

-how much?

Erik sent her a photo. It was him smiling in a black beanie with his jeans unzipped and that dick long and thick. He took really good dick pics. She loved the fact that he smiled at her like that. He made her melt. She wanted to melt in his mouth.

-Omg Daddy! come here, please 🤗

-can’t, Lil Mama. I’m about to have some company.

-I wanna cuddle with you and sit on your lap🥺

-that’s all? LOL I know that ain’t the only thing you want. Look at that pic again.

-okay, I want some dick too so? Lol. You fucked me so good last night I want some more 😋

-Can’t tonight, I told your ass that. I gotchu tomorrow, don’t worry. I’ll fuck you from the living room to the bed I promise.

-☹️

-fix your fucking face.

- *sigh* okay.

-good girl. Let me hit you back later I gotta make some moves. Be good, Lil Mama 😚

-I will Daddy, TTYL 🥰

——————-

Later came around and sitting in her dorm watching Hulu was a drag. Brandy was busy doing her classmates’ hair in the living room. She slept on and off and studied the entire day. After showering, Y/N put on a pair of panties and a band tee to get in bed to be even lazier. It was around 9:30 pm when she had just about enough. Not being wrapped around Erik had her going insane. Then, there was the fact that her mind replayed all of their nasty sex. She was sloppy wet. Y/N pulled her covers back, sitting up on her elbows, and spreading her legs to see her pussy. She fingered her folds to gather some of her wetness. Y/N brought her fingers to her mouth, sucked her essence off, and without a care, she started running circles into her clit.

She edged herself in that bed. Each time she was ready to cum, Y/N would stop. This always gave her the best orgasms. Erik’s name spilled from her mouth as her fingers rubbed and rubbed until she was cumming. She felt her sheets dampen under her ass from squirting. Y/N grabs her phone from her pillow, swiping left to pull up her camera. She put her flash on and started recording a video of her wet cum stained pussy. After that, she sent it off to Erik so he could see what he was missing right now

-Fucking really, Y/N?

-😛

-that little creamy pussy is soaked. You sample my pussy after you came Lil Mama?

-it was so tasty 😋

-Now I really gotta tear that ass up. Chilling with my friends and my dick hard.

-fuck me…

-drive over here right fucking now.

She was up out that bed real quick.

———————

Y/N pulled up in her leggings and a crop top and ugg slippers. She made it into Erik’s apartment building rapidly. The minute she knocked on that door one of Erik’s friends answered.

“Damn, shorty? Who you here to see?” He bit his lip at Y/N. She could hear talking in the back.

“Erik.” Y/N spoke softly.

“Okay, sweetie. Yo E!”

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him walk up to the door. She was craving him in all her holes. Her mouth, ass, and pussy were lonely and ready to be filled.

“Hey, E.”

“Who?” Erik asked while his friend watched. Y/N looked over at Erik’s friend then back at him with timid eyes.

“Don’t be shy, Lil Mama. What I say about all that shy shit? Now, what’s my name?”

“Daddy.” She blushed with embarrassment. Erik leaned forward, grabbing the side of Y/N’s neck softly to tongue her down briefly. 

“Damn,” Erik’s friend clapped Erik on the back, “that’s my nigga, Erik.”

Both men allowed her to step inside and Y/N was surrounded by nothing but weed smoke and loud trap music. Roddy Ricch was playing from Erik’s beats Pill. There were at least seven guys there plus Erik included. Some smoking and drinking, Erik playing the game since he had a controller in his hand.

“Aye!” Erik yelled over the loud music, “this is Y/N.”

“Hi,” she waved shyly with a smile.”

They all said their hellos. Some lingering on her with interest while the others returned to whatever they were doing.

“Damn, you came by yourself? No friends for us?” The guy in question was rolling up some weed. He was tall and muscular with a full beard.

“Sorry, I just came to see my Daddy,” she placed her hand on Erik’s chest while he leaned down to wrap his arm around her waist. She was so small that he had to bend down to grab her. Some of his friends gave each other looks and she was sure they were going to ask Erik about how good Y/N’s pussy is. Erik has a way of affecting you without doing much except for existing. The evil glint in his eyes was enough to let his friends know that Y/N was his and only his.

“Here TJ,” Erik passes his controller over to whoever TJ was, “I’ll be back, gotta handle something with Lil Mama real quick.”

“Go handle that,” The friend that opened the door joked.

“Nigga shut the fuck up. I don’t need you talking on my behalf I got this.”

Y/N glanced at his friend. He could see the embarrassment on his face. He was a grown-ass man and he allowed Erik to shut him up. His homeboys joked in the background but something told Y/N that all of them knew not to fuck with Erik.

After Erik checked his friend, Erik kept his hand around Y/N’s waist as they walked to the back where his room was. The anticipation to fuck him was killing her. His fingertips stroked her spine at first but as soon as they walked past his doorway Erik seized the back of Y/N’s neck before slamming his door shut. The loud rap music vibrated his bedroom walls. Y/N turned around to look at Erik. Her terror-stricken face didn’t do anything to calm his rage. Erik folded his arms across his chest and widened his stance before he began to speak.

“You sent that video to get back at me or something?”

“No…” she spoke slowly.

“Nah, you had to because I sent you that picture of me holding my dick,” He narrows his eyes at her, “my dick is hard as a motherfucker right now.”

“Lemme see,” she went to grab his crotch but Erik smacked her hand away. Hard.

With an alarming look on her face, she stroked her sore hand. Erik didn’t seem to care about her pain. He was too busy worried about his hard dick.

“You owe me an apology.”

“Why?!” She didn’t understand why he was so damn upset about this.

“Because I told you I was busy-“

“You sent me that pic and I was a horny fucking mess, Erik. I had to make myself cum because of you. Don’t stand there and do that.”

“Y/N,” Erik closed his eyes, “Who the fuck is in charge? If I send you a pic, Lil Mama, I expect you to rub that pussy. Don’t send me shit back to turn me on when I’m with my boys. My dick is hard as fuck, Y/N, you don’t understand what I’m telling you? My-shit-is-hard.”

He grabbed his dick and Y/N wished it was her hand.

“So, I can’t send you nothing back without permission?” She asked with caution.

“Not when I’m around my niggas. My phone was out in the open, baby girl. What if they saw that puss? It’s mine. You got amnesia or something?”

Daddy, no. I didn’t think about that.” She fiddled with her fingers. 

“Just shut the fuck up and come suck my dick,” Erik spoke hastily. 

Erik started undoing his button and zipper. His jeans and briefs dropped down and around his ankles. His dick was so hard it poked straight out at her. Daddy was right. All that hard dick tucked away in his pants. She could understand his anger. That shit was probably pulsating and thumping like a heartbeat in his jeans. Y/N took long strides from where his bed was to get to his dick. She got down on her knees, grabbed his whopping erection, and guzzled that dick. 

“Damn,” Erik hissed before letting out a deep moan, “Suck my dick, bitch. Suck me good.” Y/N was loving on Erik’s juicy meat each time she drew it into her mouth. Down in a squat and using only her mouth to suck his dick, Y/N started moving her hips to the music. She was enjoying herself why not dance a little? Erik lifted his shirt to rest under his chin and then he took both his hands to grab her face and fuck her mouth. Her head rocked back and the gagging she did was drowned out by the music. He was so big that he stabbed the back of her throat. She was losing her balance from how intense he fed her some dick. 

“Fucking bitch.” He was vicious. Y/N was ready for him to cum because of his assault on her mouth. She smacked his thighs hard snapping Erik out of it so she could take a breath. 

“D-Daddy,” Her throat felt raw, “I’m sorry, I really am, I can’t take it.” 

“But you always take this dick like a good girl,” Erik rubbed the tip of his dick on her lips, “I think you know not to play with me like that again.”

Y/N nodded her head swiftly, “Yes, Daddy. Can I suck your dick again, please? I’m ready. I wanna swallow your cum, Daddy,” Y/N grabbed his dick and started planting delicate kisses along his shaft, “Pretty please, Daddy? then you can fuck my pussy,” She pats her pussy, “I want you inside me,” She whispered seductively.

“Fuck…Girl,” Erik grabbed his dick, “Here, just take it from me since you so damn greedy for this Daddy dick!”

“Thank you, Daddy,” She sucked him up damn near making her delirious. 

“You really love sucking this Daddy dick, Lil Mama.”

Y/N focused all her love and affection on the tip of his pipe. Her tongue would flick the underside of his head while her lips twirled around it like she was sucking on a lollipop or a popsicle. 

“Ohhhhh shit, get that shit, girl!”

The more she sucked the more Erik cheered her on. His member became thicker in her mouth and now she was drooling down her chin and her shirt. 

“Fuck, Lil Mama, you making me cum,” His face scrunched up and after his dick pulsated in her mouth a few times Erik’s tasty cum oozed out the sides of her mouth. She couldn’t stop sucking his dick. Erik had to grab her hair and pull her mouth off to stop her. Y/N’s chin and neck was covered with the cum that spilled from her mouth. She tried putting him back in her mouth leading Erik to playfully slap her face. 

“Stop it, girl. I want some pussy now.” Y/N raised her body from the floor. Erik started undressing her, yanking on her clothes with his thick fingers. Now that she was fully undressed, Erik lifts Y/N from the floor to wrap her legs around his waist. She grabbed his shoulders and pressed her cum covered face into his neck. Y/N breathed in his scent and kissed him with her wet lips. 

“mmmm,” His dick smacked her in the pussy, “I can’t wait anymore I’m getting in this pussy.”

Using all his strength, Erik spread Y/N’s legs, using his hips to stretch her pussy open. He started rocking into her at a speedy pace like he was fucking her to the beat of the trap music. The drumming of his walls mixed with the way Y/N moaned was euphoria. Her moisture made squelching noises as it saturated Erik’s dick. She was so wet Erik’s dick kept slipping out. He was literally drenched from the tip of his dick to his balls. Her pussy sheathed his dick like a flesh-eating piranha. 

“This phat pussy on you ain’t no joke, girl.” 

Her ass and thighs ricocheted off of him as he pounded her pussy. Y/N couldn’t control her cries for more. The vision of Erik staring intently into her eyes as he took control of her body.

“Dayum, I feel that pussy gripping. I stay digging in yo’ shit don’t I?”

“YES! fuck-YES.”

Erik walked while still pumping his dick in Y/N until her back touched the bed. Erik pinned her down and stuffed her tight little pussy until it started talking back. That pussy was making a lot of noise whenever Erik dropped all that dick, balls deep, in that pussy. Erik watched the way he pounded her wetness. 

“Damn, that’s a beautiful pink pussy. It makes me wanna eat it for hours.”

“Please do Daddy- OH FUCK!” Her eyes rolled back, “I love Daddy dick!”

“Daddy fucking this pussy, girl. I gotchu. You getting this pussy fucked.”

He was so calm with his words but that dick was a monster. Y/N gladly gave her pussy up. 

“Take as much dick as you want, Lil Mama. Let Daddy make that pussy feel good. Let Daddy eat that pussy and ass. Let Daddy finger that pussy anywhere-”

“BAYBEEEEEE!!!!!” 

She yelled at the top of her lungs while cumming on Erik’s dick. They both hadn’t noticed that the music stopped playing. Her moans and the sound of their skin slapping seeped through those thin walls. Erik didn’t give two fucks at that point. His only care was to make Y/N’s pussy cum so she could squeeze his thick dick and milk him dry. 

“Open that pussy baby, I’m so close,” Erik whispered. Her weak legs went up and over his shoulder. Y/N’s sweet voice and soft moans in his ear weakened him further. his balls were so tight and ready to empty all his cum. Erik sucked on her nipples while he stroked. He was pulling on her clit with his veiny shaft.

“Yes,” Erik started looking distressed in the face. He reached his hand out to grab her neck provoking Y/N to grab his neck in return. Erik was defeated when her little hand wrapped around his neck. The feeling of her warm fingers and coffin-shaped nails sinking into the skin on the back of his neck made Erik shoot his load in spurts. Each time he pumped a thick stream of cum would erupt from his slit. 

“Cum for me, Daddy.”

Erik slipped out of her slowly, grunting when he saw his cum drip from her pussy and onto his bed. Y/N kept her legs wide open and killed him with those big innocent eyes. 

“All that wet ass pussy.”

She bit her lip while her hips moved in slow circles. 

“You ain’t bring no clothes did you?”

She smiles, “I did, and my books.”

“Hmm,” Erik looked at her pussy again, “Give me your fucking keys so I can get your stuff. Take a shower and sleep naked for some more dick. I’m getting rid of these niggas.”

[writingsbytee]

Nasty college Erik will always have my heart

[spookysanta]

Welcome Home. (MBJ)

A Preview.

Summary: It’s time for the grand reveal of the new house — but it won’t be just a regular event. Not if Michael has anything to do with it.

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: EVENTUAL smut, we’re going for a slow burn here. Smitten!Obsessed!Michael

hello i’ve emerged from the crypt. this is based off a dream i had. i’ll be adding on in chunks. winter at briar ridge is… on hold? idk it feels weird writing about christmas when i’m actively dying of heatstroke. ALSO. i turn 25 in 3 days. 🫪

There was music in every room, drifting through the house with an easy familiarity that poured from the built-in speakers tucked discreetly into the ceilings as if it had always belonged there. D’Angelo rolled lazily through the living space, its warm bassline weaving around the preparations already underway.

The house had been awake for hours.

By eight o’clock that morning, the florist had transformed the foyer into a garden of white garden roses, orchids, and eucalyptus that climbed from the floor in towering arrangements. By ten, the catering company had claimed the kitchen, replacing the scent of fresh breakfast with garlic, rosemary, and warm bread cooling beneath linen towels. Now, just after three, the house pulsed with the kind of organized movement that only existed when dozens of people were working toward the same moment.

Outside, someone adjusted the final strand of café lights suspended above the backyard terrace, while another carefully polished the champagne tower that would greet guests as they arrived.

For tonight’s event, Michael had hired an event planner — and no one who knew him had been surprised.

Planning had never been his strongest suit, but when it came to Y/N, he had developed an almost supernatural ability to remember details. He remembered which flowers she absentmindedly reached for at the farmer’s market, the way she always moved the candles closer together after setting the table because she thought it made dinner feel warmer.

He remembered that she wanted a dinner party where no one had to cook, clear plates, refill glasses, or worry about entertaining because everyone (including the hosts) deserved to enjoy the evening.

She had mentioned it once. Nearly a year ago.

So when they’d finally settled into the house, unpacked the last box, and agreed that it was time to invite everyone over, Michael hadn’t simply envisioned a dinner, but an evening around her.

The menus had been letterpressed on textured cream cardstock; each guest’s place card had been handwritten in gold calligraphy. The florist recreated the same white floral palette Y/N had saved to a Pinterest board months earlier without realizing he’d seen it.

Even the playlist had been arranged hour by hour, beginning with classic R&B while everyone got ready, easing into cocktail music as guests arrived, before transitioning into a livelier mix after dinner.

He wanted the night to feel effortless for her — which, ironically, required an extraordinary amount of effort from him.

Tags: @blackisy2k @hamzahsf4vg1rl @siasoup @heyyimmisunderstood @mirathebookworm @iluvv.angel @blondfortheweekend @Plan3tCh1ld @remcycles @browngirldominion @smokestackenrgy @marvel-dork98 @chaneajoyyy @jackierose902109 @Secretisme4 @marley1773 @wrldfantasy @remcycles @bxrbie1 @pinkprincessluminary @honestlyurslol @bxrbie1 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @nybearsworld @eclecticblkgirl @corvusmorte @yallsuck-00 @glambyk @Siqeth @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @xoxo-lai@perfectlyimperfectme @Mea-bby  @kianaleani @prettiest1ittleliar @Mejustme06 @kpop-servant @kneelarhmstrung @rossie-things @thatssonani @esachicaa @ajenae @adornn4jadaa @Kindofaintrovert @bigpumpum18 @famousphilosopherwombat @Transparentphantomface @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theesmartblonde @-harmonytbh @jiminsjams123 @li-da-savage @Fckwritersblock @christinabae @Tianna-blanche  @queenofklonnie22 @marley1773 @Secret89sblog @secretisme4 @nybearsworld @jackierose902109 @spideyxakmighty2@rossie-things @Sharpaysbestfriend @chrome-edition @Mulanii9 @blackgurlkillinit @soniaangels @pinkprincessluminary @bxunyx @venusesworld @flipsidefever @dangerouslylunarwind @writingsbytee @sheabutterbabes @c-grace56 @turbulentvoids @Stankface @mimellowdi @vintigepimpzinio @bedstarz @thesmutconnoisseur @iceyyycapsicle @theesexyyaquariuss @christinabae @chuwooooo @aretasreads @5starsirl @drdimplesjdrdimplesj @thesweetestdrug @Nysrevenge @keyaho @coldeforprez @Dollyblush222 @Suzysface @zomqiez @erynnnn @kxndrixx @nia-lynn08 @Monstaxmomma0 @bl3ssyn @writingsbytee @TriniBadGyal @Thefutureemmywinner @spicypiscesssss @kqmbr1a @Simpingfor-wakasa @Vi4goswrld @c0c0tk @sleepycrybbylaiah @thevelvetwhispers @Horror—queen @behomewhenthestreetlightscomeon @solitudedanii @Siqueth @Thefutureemmywinner @nanamiismine @Secretlifeofpreshap @anotherdayof-sun @artsenthusiastk77 @Idkimtotired @pinkkycherrish @rihannabale @aretasreads @Laylasbunbunny @tiptoptoetwo @motheroffae @webbkate28 @liliaabarnes @closetednerd @cesienthusiast @royallypurple @prettylittlething @bluejay2503 @og-goddesstrill @loveabledovee @d1gitalb4rbie @closetednerd @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @Venusesworld @bananajoeclone @itsspixiedusst56 @sleepycrybbylaiah @Reelwriter19 @hllywdwhre @esachicaa @matchafein @tatelangdonsweater @nanamiismine @vibrantlymellowknight @Mrs_Livvy @femalesosaa @pinkp3rc @bananajoeclone @issafaith

[writingsbytee]

So excited to see where this goes

[rapacious-flesh-deactivated2018]

[hotgrlcece]

[writingsbytee]

Look at pooda, ready to have a good time

[aretasreads]

Michael B. Jordan at JAY-Z's Yankee Stadium Show

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

SMH

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Like I really don’t care how many times this pic been on here because LIKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Say My Name

Summary: He's supposed to be laying low. A job overseas went bloody, and Erik Stevens-Black Ops Mercenary, Ghost of the U.S. Government-needs to go quiet. He crashes at his little sister's place near Howard University in Chocolate City. But when he arrives, there's a surprise: she's got a roommate. Her Best Friend. She's grown since he last saw her. Grown in all the ways that test a man's self control. But Erik? He's never been good at following the rules...

Warnings: Age Gap Romance/ Forbidden Attraction/ Explicit Sexual Content (strong smut, oral sex, size kink, erotic praise, power exchange)/Slow Burn to Filthy/Obsession & Possessiveness/Sexual Tension in Shared Spaces/Mutual Voyeurism/Sexting/Emotional Denial/Resistance/Breeding Talk/Male Dom / Female Sub Dynamic

Part Seven

Erik sucked his teeth, sat up a little more, thighs tensing beneath her hands. He looked down at her with her messy hair, and need all over her face and reached out to grab her jaw with one hand, thumb sliding across her lips. 

“You wanna ride me?” 

Sanaa nodded, lips parting around his thumb. She sucked it slow with her eyes locked on his. 

Erik let out a low breath, nostrils flaring. His dick twitched hard in her hand. “Aight then,” he said. “Get up here.” 

The way he said it wasn’t a request. Sanaa didn’t hesitate. She threw her leg over and straddled him, hands planted on his chest for balance. Erik leaned back on his elbows, watching her like a man possessed, eyes dragging from the sway of her hips to the heavy breath in her chest. He reached down, wrapped that big hand around his dick, and held it steady, thick and gleaming, the tip pulsing. 

“Come get it.” He said with a low rasp.

Sanaa lifted just right, body knowing what to do like this wasn’t her first time begging for it. She lined herself up with the head, hips hovering, teasing his tip with slick little circles. Just working it in slowly, letting that first stretch send a shiver through both of them. Sanaa moaned airy and breathless, rolling her hips while Erik was only halfway inside. Erik’s head tipped back, jaw tight, watching her get herself ready for the full thing. 

Then, she sank. 

Her breath caught as she sank down, thighs trembling while his dick pushed up through that tight, sloppy grip. Sanaa couldn’t help the way her mouth fell open, tongue peeking out against her top lip, eyes half-closed like she was somewhere between begging and backing out. She lifted, rolled her hips again, and slipped out with a slick sound that made her flinch. 

“Come on, ma,” Erik whispered, voice low and gritty, his hips flexing up. “Put that shit back in. Don’t play.” 

Sanaa reached behind her, fingers wet as she guided him back. His tip slipped past her folds, thick and glistening, dragging slick through her creamy pussy before sliding home again. Her back bowed, belly tensed, she took it inch by inch, breathing sharp through her nose like she was bracing for a stretch that hit deep every single time. Sanaa’s body paused like it was stunned by the depth, a little tremble shaking through her frame. But then, she started moving. 

“There you go,” Erik said, voice like gravel on velvet. “Keep that arch for me. Just like that. Let me open this lil’ pussy up.” 

She rode him like she was made for it. 

Slow motion. Rolling her hips, arching her back, catching that stroke right where it made her eyes flutter and her breath skip. Her ass popped on the up stroke, then clapped softly when she dropped back down, thick and perfect against his thighs. Every grind pulled a sound out of Erik, deep in his throat. Low curses. Grunts. Praise. 

Sanaa leaned forward, hands planted on his chest, his keloid scars slick beneath her palms. His pecs flexed under her touch like he was holding back from grabbing her and flipping the whole thing. 

Sanaa whimpered sweet and buried like she was tryna swallow it down. Her knees dug into the mattress, feet braced over his thighs, ass lifting just enough to let him drive up harder. Erik didn’t even need to thrust far. He had her right where he wanted her. Just enough space for that big dick to pull back, then stroke up slow, deep, and firm. No air between them. Just desire. A vice grip. The sound of his dick stirring through slick like a slow churn. 

Sanaa rocked and rode and lost herself in it, pausing only to lean down and kiss him slow and nasty, tongue sliding deep, lips parted like she needed his mouth to survive the high she was chasing. Then, she sat back up, arching again, going back to the motion. Deeper. 

The way she stared down at him? It was like she owned him. Sanaa bit down on her bottom lip harder, breathing ragged. Her body twitched when he spread her ass wider, one hand gripping a cheek, thumb resting where her back curved into the dip of her spine. The other hand slid between her thighs and tugged her folds open on one side, just enough to feel how fucking tight of a squeeze it is to fit his dick in her. Just enough to feel the way she swallowed him each time he came back in. The flesh of her tight hole gliding smooth over veins and a thick pole. 

Erik…loved it. That thick dick throbbed inside her. The hand on her back slid up and down, gripping her waist, helping her pace. 

“Good girllll,” Erik praised, his voice deep and ragged. “Just like that pretty girl. This why you been actin’ up?” Erik whispered. “This what you needed? You needed daddy to fuck you quiet like this?” 

Sanaa’s head dropped, her breath catching in her throat. She nodded, still rocking soft but getting fucked harder than she meant to. Each time Erik asked her ‘this what you needed?’ The tempo increased. That dick curved up right into her, hitting that spot that made her legs shake and her face twist up. She didn’t mean to roll her hips like that or let the creamy mess between them get louder. It was as if her body didn’t belong to her anymore. An object to be fucked by Killmonger like it asked for.

And this wasn’t even his final form. 

Erik’s palms slid over her ass and held her open while he kept stroking. Sanaa’s body jolted every time his tip kissed the back of her pussy. It felt like pressure and a tickle all at once. Slipping out, sliding back in. Circling on the up stroke, sliding out slowly on the down stroke. Cream clinging to him. Her walls tightening to keep him in. But Erik’s dick is so thick. Long. And her pussy couldn’t help but give him room. 

It shocked her. Sanaa was a brilliant girl but it never crossed her mind that a dick that’s equal parts thick and long could open her pussy up like this. Penetrate her and make her pussy cream and flutter like it had its own heartbeat. 

“I should keep you up all night doin’ this shit. Fuckin’ you ‘til that walk change.” 

“Daddy—”

“Shhh. Shut the fuck up. The only talkin’ I wanna hear is this pussy.” 

Erik pressed his lips to her temple. His hands made its way to her waist, holding her still. Steady. On that dick. His hips drove up with a slow torture, punishing strokes and heavy weight like he was tryna leave the shape of his dick in her forever. 

“You tryna wake her up?” Erik warned with a threatening whisper. “You tryna let her know how nasty you been behind her back?” 

“No—no, I’m not—”

“Then Shut that shit up and ride this dick like you supposed to.” Erik spoke rough in her ear. So low it sent shivers down her spine. 

And she gave it to him. All of it. 

Sanaa bit the corner of her lip again, trembling, eyes almost rolling up. His dick stroked through the grip of her pussy with steady weight, gliding smooth and tight, dragging against her walls. The sound was slick and wet, sticky and clinging, layered with the subtle knock of his heavy balls brushing her ass when he dropped her down just right. Sanaa’s toes curled against his thighs. Her belly fluttered. She could feel him in her gut. Sanaa dragged her nails down his pecs and tried to lift her hips a little but Erik is stronger. 

“Feel all that up in you, huh?” Erik said. “That’s what you was fiendin’ for, baby? Fat dick pressin’ your stomach? Stretchin’ your shit out. Don’t you move, now.” His tone was taunting; teasing.

Erik’s hands slid down her waist, wide palms smoothing over the curve of her hips before gripping the underside of her ass. He let her work. Let her grind slow like she had all day. But he couldn’t stop himself from giving her something extra. After all, he’s extra. 

Pop. 

A gentle slap to her right cheek made her gasp and bounce a little harder. Then, he rubbed it, smoothed his hand over the sting. 

“Yeah,” Erik said low, looking up at her like she was art. “That’s it, baby. Ride that shit.” 

Sanaa was in another dimension. Dick drunk. Eyes low. Mouth slick and almost drooling, whispering nonsense that didn’t make full sense but still sounded sexy as hell. Sanaa’s hands went to fist the sheets. Her thighs spread over him. The stroke was making her dizzy. Erik slid both hands around her waist and pulled her flush against him, holding her in place while he started fucking up into her with slow, mean precision. Each thrust was full. The bed barely moved but the air between them thickened with sweat and secret moans and groans swallowing into the backs of throats. 

Erik bent his knees, driving up from the base, hips angled just right so his whole length stroked through the grip of her pussy like he was molding her insides with every pass. Sanaa’s breath stuttered. Her mouth hung open. She tried to hold it in. Tried to be good. But that shit felt so fucking good. 

“I—mmh—this dick feel so good,” she breathed, grinding with slow, wet rolls. “Might start crying on it…I’m not even playin’…”

Erik laughed but dropped off into a groan when she clenched on him mid-roll. Erik gave her left cheek a light slap, then grabbed it, pulling her down harder. 

“Don’t play then.” Erik warned. “Go head and cry.” 

Sanaa was in the zone. One hand drifted up his chest again, Palm gliding over his scars, fingertips teasing his nipple just to make him twitch. The other hand braced on his thigh behind her for balance. 

“I could live on this dick.” She whispered with a shaky laugh, voice floaty. 

“You already do.” Erik shot back. 

But Sanaa didn’t hear him. Or maybe she did and ignored it. Sanaa’s eyes fluttered shut. Her hips paused at the base of his stroke. Then…

She started bucking. 

No warning. No ease into it. She just popped her hips and that bubbly ass back and up, then dropped down on him with force. That wet clap echoed between them. 

“Shhhit—” Erik grunted, jaw locked. He sat up fast, his hand flying to her waist to ground her, but she was already in the zone. 

“Uh uh,” Sanaa panted, riding that dick like she had a point to prove. “Don’t stop me now, I’m on a mission, daddy.” 

Erik’s hands tried to slow her, but every time he gripped her waist, Sanaa twisted and bounced harder. Her ass smacked against his thighs, wild and filthy, her head thrown back as she whimpered with a bite of her lip softly and moaned out his name with an airy breath like it was her favorite song. 

“Sanaa—”

She reached up, palmed the back of his neck, and pulled his forehead to hers. “Loose control, daddy.” She breathed, voice wrecked but still taunting. “Come on. I want it.” 

That was her plan the whole time. To ride him until he couldn’t think straight. To fuck him until his voice broke and he forgot every rule he made about control. And judging by the way his fingers dug into her flesh and those muscles flexed…

It was working. 

Sanaa leaned her weight forward, kept that nasty dance, and added something new to it. Her hand—small, delicate, manicured fingers with her name on her gold necklace glinting between her tits—wrapped right around Erik’s throat. Just enough pressure to make his head tilt back and his eyes lock onto hers like she had him pinned in place. Like he belonged to her now. 

And then she rode him. 

From tip to base. Working every inch of that thick ass dick like it was hers to break in. Her body rolled in perfect time, ass popping up, then dropping back down to the back with a wet clap again and again. Sanaa stayed eye to eye with him the whole time. 

Erik’s mouth fell open. A low, guttural sound came from his chest, his hands gripping her thighs like he was hanging on for dear life. His nostrils flared, his gold canines flashed as his top lip curled to fight the urge to groan so loud he wakes the whole building up. His whole body tensed underneath her like he was fighting the urge to flip her over and wreck her. But he didn’t. He let her have it. Let her take that power. 

His expression was war. Tight jaw. Eyes dark and ablaze. Clenched abs. Fists flexing on her skin. Eyes damn near desperate. Breathing hard. 

“Sanaa…” Erik grunted, voice all gravel and restraint. “Fuck, baby.” 

Sanaa smiled. A slow, wicked, bratty smile. She rolled her hips in a circle while still sitting in him full. She was gon’ milk him good. Then, she leaned in close, mouth at his ear, whispering low, breathy, slick. 

“What’s wrong, Killmonger?” 

Erik twitched. His grip on her thighs got tighter. That name hit different coming from her mouth. Especially with her sitting on his fucking dick like that. Dripping and talking her shit. 

“You supped to be the big bad soldier, huh?” She panted, riding again, faster now, breath hitching between words. “Don’t tell me I got you foldin’…”

Erik growled low in his throat. His eyes snapped to hers, wide, wild, hungry. “You wanna play like that?” He said, voice hoarse. 

Sanaa kept bouncing. Let her hand tighten just a little more on his throat, thumb pressing under his jaw while her pussy clamped down and stroked him from base to tip like a goddamn vice. Like he was her personal toy. Her toy soldier. 

“Mmhm,” she whispered. “Killmonger can’t take it…”

And that was it.

Erik’s hand shot up, yanked her wrist off his neck, and pinned it to the bed beside him. His other arm wrapped around her back, locking her down. 

But Sanaa was still grinding. Still riding that big thing. Erik’s arms caged her in—thick, strong, immovable. Erik shifted under her, sitting up in one powerful motion, his chest pressed to hers, their breaths tangled. Sanaa barely had time to blink before his hands slid beneath her thighs, hooking her knees over his forearms, palming the underside of her ass with a grip that meant business.

Then he stood up. Taking back his power. Ain’t no way some lil’ girl was gonna grab him by the neck and ride his dick and talk shit in his ear like she in charge. Fuck that. 

That big dick never slipped out once. Erik rose with her still fully seated on him, buried to the base, his muscles flexing all down his back and arms. Sanaa gasped, arm’s flailing for his shoulders before clutching tight. He made that shit look so effortless. Erik adjusted his hold, tightening his grip on her thighs, locking her in against his chest. 

And then, he bounced her. 

Not wild. Not frantic. But deep. Firm.

Erik dropped her down on that dick, letting the full weight of his body take him. His grip under her ass controlled every motion like she was a workout, a blessing, and a punishment all rolled into one. Her pussy opened for him every time, swallowing that big dick whole, her walls fluttering with every single drop like that pussy was talking to him, begging Killmonger to murder her shit. 

Sanaa couldn’t catch a breath. Her body tensed and softened all at once—overwhelmed, overstimulated, taken. He was using her like she belonged in his arms getting fucked like this. She was made to be lifted and held and fucked. Her pretty head dropped back, those glossy lips parted, that tiny breath hitching. She had never been handled like this before. Ever. Then here comes this big, strong, soldier with scars and a lethal dick to rewrite everything the thought she knew about getting fucked. 

“Erik—”

Sanaa moaned his name once, sweet and quiet. But it turned to something else. Something filthier. More desperate. Like her body knew what she needed before her mind caught up. 

“…Monger…K-Kill…Killmonger…Kill…Killmonger, fuck…mm, Monnie…”

It spilled out of her in waves, soft, breathy, cracked around the edges. Her thighs trembled against his arms, her nails clawing at his back, and her pussy was dripping. Soaked and sucking him back in with every controlled thrust. When Sanaa caught their reflection, her eyes went round. Her small frame folded in the air around his big, muscled, scarred, tall body. She looked helpless, caged, locked. 

She just raised his number to 2,208. 

Pick yourself up Bri—oh, wait—you’re stuck in the air bitch how you gonna flip it on him again? 

Damn, he all up in this pussy.

Why he fucking me like this? 

Erik looked up at her face, lips swollen, hair clinging to her cheek, eyes fluttering with every drop. “You wanted it,” he said, low and steady, sweat beading on his neck. “Now take it.”

Then, he bounced her again, slow and punishing, that big thing pushing her to the brink.

All Sanaa could do was hang on. Fall apart. Moan his name. Her toes curled right in the air, ankles flexing with every drop. She was about to tap out. But that would make her look like a weak bitch. Her whole body tensed like a struck cord, arms wrapped tighter around Erik’s shoulders as she dropped her head to his neck. She pressed her nose into his skin, right where the warmth gathered, where his clean scent lived. Masculine mix of sweat, lotion, and something earthy that was just him. It made her dizzy. 

Erik was in it. He was bouncing her just right on that thick dick. He switched it up. Started feeding her. Rolling his hips upward as she came down. Rocking into her slow and deep, hitting that spot every single time. The control he had over his body was insane. Like he had power running through his veins. Inhuman. He adjusted mid-thrust, tilting her hips, locking her tighter against him so her clit dragged across his pelvis just right. 

She was unraveling from the inside out. 

“…Killmonger…yes…baby…”

The name barely left her lips before Erik’s jaw clenched. He adjusted his stance, braced one foot back to keep his balance, then slammed her down deeper, held her there, let her feel all of it.

“You wanted Killmonger?” he breathed against her ear, voice low and gritty, laced with dark amusement, “Huh?” He bounced her again, the sound of her moaning his name fed something carnal in him, “Say it again, Princess.” 

Sanaa shook her head, biting her lip, but her pussy clenched hard around him, giving her away.

“Nah,” Erik growled. “You been talkin’ all that shit now you gettin’ it.” Another thrust. Deep. He rocked up into her and held, “Say. That. Shit.”

Her breath caught, “…Killmonger…” Sanaa’s voice barely made it past her lips. “Don’t stop fucking your pussy, Killmonger…”

That was all Erik needed.

His arms flexed tighter beneath her knees, locking Sanaa in. Her back was flat against the wall now but her hips were tipped—cocked up perfect and wide. That pussy sat right on his dick like it was made to fit him and only him. Swallowing all that thick pressure with every pump of his hips. Erik didn’t slam into her, he stroked. Sanaa looked down and her breath hitched with surprise at how her hips jerked involuntarily every time he pushed in and how her hips chased the sensation again when he slides back out. 

“Mmm. There she go,” Erikk growled low against her throat, breathing in her scent, teeth grazing her skin, “You feel that? That stretch right there?” 

Sanaa nodded fast, lower lip trembling but the only sound she could make was a tight little gasp. Her acrylics dug onto his shoulders and her thighs quaked over his arms. 

Erik held her there and made her feel it. 

“Yeah.” he said, that voice low and deep, “That’s what I thought. Pussy talkin’ now.” 

And it was. 

Every time he rolled his hips forward, that slick, soaking grip of hers let out a wet little squelch. A pop as air got trapped and pushed back out. That tight little pussy started queefing loud and messy between them. Sanaa’s whole body tensed in embarrassment. She’d NEVER done that before. She shut her eyes and tilted her face away, trying to stop herself from doing it again but nope. It kept happening.

What the fuck? 

But Erik loved it.

“Nah, don’t hide,” he grunted, dragging his dick out slow until just the tip sat at her entrance, then pushed right back in with a deep, thick stroke that made her head knock against the wall with a soft thud, “Let it talk. Let me hear how tight that shit is.” 

“E—”

Sanaa was trying to hold it in, but Erik didn’t give her the chance. Erik snatched it from her chest with the next thrust. Smooth and deep again. Long strokes. Pussy gripped him so snug it felt like it was sucking him back in. Her arousal was dripping down his ball now. Every time he pulled out, his dick glistened with it, creamy at the base. Wet and shiny all the way up to the head. 

Then it happened. That change. That little flutter deep inside her. 

Sanaa’s walls started twitching like they were confused. Like her pussy didn’t know if it wanted to clench him or release. It pulsed around him, and she gasped again, harder this time. 

“Fuck—”

“Yeah…” Erik grunted, “she feelin’ it now.” 

Erik adjusted his stance. He took one small step forward so her back pressed tighter to the wall, and then he angled his hips downwards. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was chasing her spot now. And when he found it? Sanaa had to bite down on her bottom lip to stifle a loud moan. Her whole body jerked in his arms. Her mouth dropped open, closed in a pout, eyes crossing, breath catching. Her pussy squeezed so hard around his dick it made his knees buckle. 

“Damn, there she go. That’s what I wanted from that pussy.” 

Sanaa didn’t even know if she could ever speak again after that. But a sound came out of her. A mix of a cry and a moan and a choked little please. All the things he watched from her, every thrust hit that spot. She started having the most intense orgasm she’d ever had and she couldn’t run. She could feel it. A warm, milky wave gushing out of her, coating his dick, her thighs, dripping to the floor of. It made everything wetter. Nastier. Louder. Pussy slipping and gripping around him. Erik licked his lips as he watched her face twist up. 

“Creamin’ on this dick, baby?” Erik spoke soft, biting her earlobe, “That’s what happen when you fuck wit’ a grown ass man.”

Sanaa whimpered. Bit her lip.

His dick dragged through her like he was reminding her who owned that pussy. Like he knew it better than she did. Rubbing her walls raw in the best way. Grinding into that tender, aching spot inside her that had her leaking again.

Do that again, Daddy that feels so good, she thought. 

His voice was a low growl now, filthy, dark, right in her ear.

“You gon’ take this dick. Just like that. That’s what you wanted, ain’t it? That what you beggin’ for?”

Erik snapped his hips into her so deep her eyes rolled. 

She was cumming again. Not from clit play. Not from fingers.

From dick.

Thick, deep, grown man dick.

Sanaa moaned—low-pitched, pretty, almost sobbing—and Erik smiled against her neck. 

“Uh huh…that’s right,” he said, “Let me hear it.”

He rolled his hips again, just right. And again. Stroking deep and smooth. Not stopping. Her walls squeezed so tight around him he could barely move. 

“Damn, baby…this pussy tryna keep me in…” His voice dropped even lower. “You want me to cum in it, don’t you?”

Her body jumped.

Sanaa shook her head weakly, but he saw the way her pussy clenched again. She couldn’t even lie. 

Erik laughed under his breath, “You came beggin’ for this dick again I don’t know, Bri. Might not get this nut tonight.”

Then he did something that wrecked her.

He leaned back just enough to look at her.

Held her up, eyes locked to hers, and gave her one… slow…deep grind.

His dick dragged against every inch of her walls. Pressed to her spot. Stretched her from the inside until her whole body arched and her face twisted in pure pleasure. 

“Ain’t nobody ever fucked you like this…made you cream like this…” He kissed her jaw, “Nah…they was playin’ wit’ it, wasn’t they baby? Huh? Daddy got you…”

Another thrust. Another cry. Sanaa’s head hit the wall again. Her nails scratched down his back. She was shaking so bad he had to grip her tighter. 

He groaned through gritted teeth, “Keep moaning like that and I’ma fuck around and nut in this tight little pussy…just might give you your present.” 

She just nodded, moaned, and melted around him—completely fucked. Her walls fluttered again, and he knew…

She was about to cum AGAIN. 

Erik rolled his hips again, one long, smooth stroke that had her gasping into his neck. Her body arched. Her pussy clenched. Her thighs twitched where they were locked over his arms.  Erik could feel how open she was now. How she’d molded to him. Wrapped around him so tight and juicy and so fucking wet, it sounded like syrup every time he sank back in.

Slrp…squelch…slrp…

“Shhhhit,” he groaned, dragging his lips across her cheek, breath hot. “That sound makin’ me crazy…”

He shifted just slightly, angled deeper. Lower. Found that spot again.

Sanaa opened her mouth but no sound came out. Then, her head dropped back and her face…

So damn pretty.

Lips parted. Brows pinched. Skin flushed and glistening. She looked like she didn’t know whether to moan or cry.

Erik watched her, mesmerized, “Look at you…” he muttered, eyes dropping to her mouth. “So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

She bit her lip, hard. Her fingers clawed into his back. Erik pulled her away from the wall. He grunted, bounced her again, then rolled his hips so perfect her eyes damn near crossed. Sanaa pressed her lips to the curve of his neck, panting softly, her nose buried in his scent. Her body was wrung out, pussy soaked and fluttering around him, but she gave him what he wanted. 

His grip on her thighs tightened, “Yeah,” he said, rocking up into her again, slow and deliberate, “you wanted Killmonger…”

Erik fed it to her just like that. Deep strokes that made her press her forehead to his jaw, made her toes curl again in the air. Erik backed towards the bed, still holding her while deep inside, until the backs of his legs hit the edge. Then, he eased down, his arms guiding her down with him like she was something precious. He settled back against the pillows, legs spread wide, hands gripping beneath her thighs while she adjusted. 

Sanaa didn’t waste time.

She rose up into a squat, planted her feet firm on either side of his thighs, and lifted herself until just the tip of that thick dick stayed inside. Then, she dropped. The sound it made—the wetness, the weight of her ass clapping down, the deep breath Erik took through his nose—fills the room. 

Sanaa did it again and again. Her curls fell into her face, sticking to her cheeks and neck, sweat rolling down her chest as her body took over. She was on a mission now. Squatting low, bouncing on him with that juicy grip, swallowing every inch. Her thighs flexed, that ass jiggled with each drop, and her moans came out like breathy spells. 

“Mm…fuck, it’s too deep…I can’t even breathe right…you feel that? You feel that, daddy?” 

Erik didn’t answer. He leaned in, mouth hungry, and caught her nipple between his lips, sucked it, tongue circling the tip before letting it pop free. Then, he moved to the other, licking and teasing until her back arched and her pussy pulsed hard around him. 

Sanaa’s hand went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, grounding herself against the flood of pleasure. She didn’t wanna stop riding. She didn’t wanna stop grinding. She started rolling her hips, slow figure eights while still deep in that squat, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted around a soft moan, chest heaving. 

It was a sight.

Her curls framed her face wild and damp. Nipples hard and pointed. Mouth glossy with spit. That slim-thick body was glistening everywhere—down her neck, across her stomach, where Erik’s hands slid to grab her waist. Every bounce, every grind, made her gasp. Made her sigh. Made her shine. 

Erik breathed heavy, eyes locked on the way she moved, “Fuckin’ beautiful…”

His thighs were tight, muscles straining as he held himself back, eyes locked on the sight above him. Sanaa’s hips were working overtime, slow then fast, smooth then nasty. She was riding him like it meant something. Like she needed that dick to breathe. Her palms braced against his chest as she worked her body over his big dick, up and down, clenching him so tight he could barely think. Erik’s hands had nowhere to go but up—one locked around her waist, the other scrubbed up her stomach, over the curve of her breast, and finally up to her face. His thumb traced along her jaw before sliding to her cheek. He was stuck. Couldn’t stop looking at her. That lil’ face twisted in ecstasy, mouth open, eyes fluttering every time she sank down on him and took it all like a good girl. 

“Give it to me…” she begged, voice sugar-slick and whimpering, “Give it to me, please.”

Erik grunted low, chest heaving, lips parted like the air got caught in his throat. He could feel it rising, the rush, the heat in his spine, the clench in his gut. Her pussy was too tight. Too wet. She gripped him and made a mess on him every time she bounced. 

“I’m bein’ good,” she said through breathy moans, her ass slapping against his thighs. “I’m riding daddy’s dick good.”

He could barely hold on. His head dropped back against the pillow, jaw tight, sweat slicking the cut of his collarbones. “Fuck, lil’ mama…”

Her lips curled into a wicked little smile. She wanted all of him. And she was gonna get it. Sanaa dropped her hips faster, harder, like she knew he was right on the edge. 

“Fill me up.”

Erik looked up at her like she was unreal. A fantasy he accidentally pulled out of his dreams. Her titties bouncing with every move. The roll of her hips was deadly. The wet sounds between them only made it filthier. She arched her back, leaned forward, and started grinding instead of bouncing. That roll she did with her hips? That shit broke him. 

“Unh…yes,” she panted, nails digging into his chest. “Give me that Killmonger dick.”

Erik growled, deep and guttural, reaching ip and grabbing the back of her neck, dragging her face close to his. His eyes were heavy, bloodshot, lost in her, “You gon’ make me bust up in this pussy, girl…”

“That’s what I want,” she said, breath all over his lips. “I want it. I want you to nut in this pussy. I been so good. Look how I take it. Look at me…”

Erik looked. Couldn’t not look. Her pussy was swallowing him. Gripping every inch like it was molded for him. 

Taking every inch of his daddy dick like her little pussy was made to do it. The way her body arched, the curve of her back, the wet slap of her ass meeting his lap—it was obscene, nasty, and perfect. And every time she rode down, her breasts bounced like they were cheering her on. 

She put her hands on his chest, leaned forward just enough to whisper in his ear, “Look how I ride it, Daddy,” she panted, voice low and slick, “Look how I take it in my little pussy like a big girl supposed to.”

Erik’s eyes snapped open. That shit hit him like a shot to the chest. His nostrils flared. It was the kind of reaction a man had when he was trying not to bust too soon. Erik frowned hard at her, like her words had personally disrespected him. 

Sanaa smirked, proud of herself. She swiveled her hips slow, teasing him with it, making sure he could feel every slick roll of her walls dragging over him.

“Oh yeah…mmm…” she moaned, drawing out the sound like it was syrup on her tongue. Her hands slid up his shoulders, “Such a big dick. You handsome and your thing big. So disrespectful.”

Erik’s hands flew to her ass, palms spread wide as he cupped her cheeks and started bouncing her harder. Sanaa gasped, lost her groove for a second as he took over. Her hands gripped his shoulders tight, nails pressing into his skin. Sanaa looked down at him and the way he stared up at her—eyes dark, lips parted, sweat on his temples—she knew. 

He was about to lose it.

That’s right Bri. Bury that nigga. 

“Shit,” Erik growled low, his voice breaking apart from how deep it hit. His hands dragged her down and lifted her up, over and over, using her body like it was his personal addiction. His grip got tighter, more demanding, like he needed her to keep going, to stay right there.

Their eyes locked. Sanaa’s mouth parted. She could see it in his face, all over it. That look. That edge. He was right there. Right on the fucking edge of letting go.

His chest rose quick, muscles flexing. His brows pulled in tight and his gold slugs flashed beneath clenched teeth. His hips stuttered, bucking up into her, and he let out this low, primal sound like he was trying to hold back a flood.

Sanaa was taking that dick like she owned it—slow and deep, then fast and filthy, grinding into Erik’s lap with that little arch in her back that always made him twitch. His hands were locked on her ass, pulling her down, forcing her to take all of him. His mouth hung open as he breathed through it, face twisted up like he was trying not to explode.

But Sanaa wasn’t done.

“Say my name,” she whispered.

Erik grunted, trying to hold himself back, but his body was betraying him. Thighs flexing. Chest rising. That big dick of his twitching so deep inside her, begging for release.

“Whose big dick is this?” she asked, breath sweet and soft but commanding as hell, “Who’s big dick this belong to?”

He almost choked on his own spit. His grip on her ass tightened, fingers digging into the flesh like he was trying to keep her there. “It’s yours,” he rasped. “Fuck, it’s yours—”

She tilted her head.

“It’s mine? Huh, Killmonger?”

His whole body jerked. He stilled. He was about to fill her up. He wanted to. Needed to. He was locked in, ready to drown in her.

“Shit—” he breathed, jaw locked, legs tense as hell, “Take this nut, daddy’s girl—”

And that’s when she did it.

Sanaa hopped off. Quick and clean.

Erik let out a deep, wrecked growl as his big dick bounced up, angry and wet, pulsing without a home. His eyes went wide, stunned, and before he could get his bearings, it was already happening. That first thick spurt shot up and landed hot on his lower abs. Another followed, streaking his thighs. His hips bucked helplessly as more of his nut spilled out, messy and hot, painting his skin. He looked down at himself, then back up at her, brows drawn in deep like did you really just hop off my dick?

Sanaa stood at the edge of the bed like a goddess fresh off her throne. Her body glistened in the dim light, skin warm, inner thighs shiny with her own climax. She took her time picking up her T-shirt from the floor, slipping it back over her head like nothing happened. Just tits swaying soft beneath cotton. Then she stepped in front of his full-length mirror and fluffed her curls, satisfied.

Erik watched, still leaking, dick twitching on his stomach, mind blank.

Sanaa giggled to herself, caught his reflection behind her in the mirror, then turned and faced him.

“Now lay in it.”

She blew him a kiss, walked to the door, and slipped out without another word.

And Erik—naked, breathless, covered in his own nut—could only lay there. Speechless. Destroyed. Worshipping her with his eyes while she took all the power with her.

______

Erik stayed frozen. His chest heaved and his lungs burned as he fought for air. The silence that followed Sanaa’s exit was deafening, leaving him stranded in the wreckage of a ruined orgasm. He was vibrating, every muscle in his large, scarred frame coiled tight, trapped in that agonizing limbo between peak pleasure and a sudden, jarring stop. 

He looked down at himself, his gaze heavy and dark. His abs were slick, coated in a sheen of chaotic mess that consisted of her juices and the cum he’d leaked while she’d been grinding her pussy on his dick. It was a smeared, translucent map of her greed and her cruelty. Erik reached down, his thick fingers dragging through the wetness on his stomach, swirling her cream into his skin. Erik didn’t wipe it away. He smeared it, feeling the tacky mess against his keloid scars, the scent of her pussy filling his nostrils and fueling the fire in his gut. 

Erik’s mind was a loop of the last twenty minutes. He could still feel the exact pressure of her thighs gripping his waist, the way her soft curves collided with his hard muscle. He replayed every bratty, teasing thing she’d whispered in his ear, the way she’d looked down at him with that confident, challenging smirk while she rode him. Like he didn’t fold her little ass in half against the wall. She had known exactly what she was doing. Pushing him to the very edge, making him ache, making him crave the release that only she could trigger, and then simply sliding off right before the explosion. 

Erik looked at his dick. It was half-hard, a thick, vein-riven, pole that refused to fully go soft. It was twitching. Pulsing with a frustrated dance. A thick, pearly bead of cum leaked from the tip, dripping onto his thigh. It was the seed that should have been buried deep inside her. The load he had been ready to pump into her until she was overflowing. Right up against the posterior fornix. Seeing it waste away on his own skin made his jaw clench so hard his teeth groaned. 

The frustration wasn’t a clean anger. It was a dark, suffocating obsession. He felt a possessive hunger clawing at his insides, a need to reclaim the control she’d snatched away. He stared at the door she’d walked through, his eyes narrowing. The fact that she could leave him like this—wrecked, leaking—didn’t make him want to pull away. It made him want to hunt her down, pin her to the nearest surface, and fuck the bratty attitude right out of her. 

Erik touched the leaking tip of his dick, smearing the wasted cum across his thigh, breath hitching. He wasn’t just horny. He was consumed. He wanted to feel her clench around him again. To feel her shake as he finally took what was his. Leave her just as ruined as he was right now.

His mind was a storm. Racing with a volatility that usually only surface in the heat of a kill zone. He was Erik N’Jadaka Stevens. He was a mercenary nicknamed Killmonger. He was a ghost. A weapon. A man who had navigated the darkest corners of the globe as a Navy SEAL and a Black Operative. HALO jumped from war planes. Witnessed the unthinkable. Looked death in the eye and didn’t blink. He had a tally of 2,207 lives extinguished by his own hand. Each one a testament to his precision, his ruthlessness, and his absolute control over every environment he entered. 

Erik almost dismantled an entire empire, fought his way through his bloodline and walked away from it all because he was the only one strong enough to do so. He was a man who commanded respect through fear and dominance. He wasn’t someone to be played with, let alone fucked with. 

And yet, here he was.

He stared at the ceiling, jaw locked, feeling the phantom weight of Sanaa pressing into him. The sheer audacity of it burned in his chest. This little brat—this slim-thick, espresso brown, teasing woman—had just flipped the script on him. She had ridden him with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, pushing him to the absolute precipice of his sanity, and then she simply vanished. She had left him stranded in the wreckage of his own desire, lying in the ruins of a ruined orgasm. 

How? The question echoed in his head, fueling a dark possessive fire. How was it possible that Sanaa held this much power over him? He was the one with the muscle, the experience, the sheer physical presence that could crush her. He was the one who should be dictating the terms of their surrender. But in her absence, he felt the weight of her influence like a collar around his neck. She didn’t need a weapon to disarm him. She just needed to know exactly where his breaking point was and then step away from it. 

Her thighs. Thick, soft, warm…grown-woman thighs. That’s the part that hits him in the chest. She sits on the sofa with them pressed together and he can’t stop looking. She walks around the apartment in those tiny shorts and his mouth goes dry. She crosses her legs slow and he feels that twitch in his sweats every damn time. 

Her taste. Erik knew she’d be sweet. He knew it. But he didn’t expect that. That flavor. That warmth. That addictive, met-on-his-tongue sweetness that ruins men. She tastes like warm skin, slick heat, something naturally sweet, something that coats his tongue and stays there. Something he wants more of every second. He became obsessed with it. So much so that it started haunting him. He’ll be sitting in the kitchen with a glass of water, thinking about the taste between her thighs. He’ll be trying to sleep but he keeps remembering the way his mouth got messy on her. He’ll be in the shower, jaw clenched, palm on the tile, replaying the sound she made when he spread her open with his thumbs and dragged his tongue across all that wetness. Her taste is the reason he stops pretending she don’t got a hold on him. Because once he found out what that pussy tasted like…

He can’t not want it again. And again. And again. He’s calling her greedy but ain’t no way her greed matches his. Erik is hungry for that pussy. Possessive over that pussy. 

Sweetest pussy I ever had. You know I’m comin’ back for that. Don’t give that flavor to nobody else….

How tight her pussy is. When he slid in the first time? Erik damn near forgot his own name. She’s so goddamn right he gotta breathe through it. Gotta hold still. Gotta grip her hips and talk her through opening up because if he move too fast, too soon, he gon’ bust right there. That warm clench around him…the way she hugs every inch…how her pussy tries to pull him deeper…how her walls flutter when she moans…how she get tighter when she says his name. That’s why he gotta fuck her lil’ ass slow sometimes. 

The breathy moans. Oh my god. The softness…the shaky ‘mmm’ when he moves just right. The whisper of ‘Erik” when she’s tryna hold on but can’t. Erik could write whole chapters about that sound. Soft. Breathy. Pretty. Innocent but filthy underneath. The sound of a good girl losing her mind for a grown man. That’s what makes him nuts. That innocence melting. And every time she let out one of those little whimpers? He feels it in his spine. In his chest. In his dick. Her moans are what make him emotional about the sex. The thing he didn’t plan on. The part that binds him to her. That’s why he keeps coming back. Why he can’t leave it alone. Because her body talks to him. Her thighs…her taste…her tightness…her voice. And every part says the same thing.

It’s yours.

Erik’s gaze dropped back down to his lap. His dick was a thick, pulsing column again. Just the thought of her got him standing at attention again. He reached down, his massive, calloused hand wrapping around the girth. He could feel a pulse against the pad of his fingers as he pumped the veiny, rock-hard muscle. He watched the way the skin stretched over the thick veins. With every squeeze, more of that wasted seed spilled out. Thick, pearly ropes of cum leaking from the tip, coating his fingers and smearing across his palm. It was a lot of cum. A heavy load that had been built up through minutes of agonizing torture. 

Erik gripped himself tighter, a low growl vibrating in his throat. This shit should have been buried inside her. He should have pinned her legs back and sat this dick right against the bottom of her pussy, pumping every single drop of this wasted nut with a pulse of his groin until she was overflowing. Hear those pretty little whimpers as he stuffed her full. 

Instead, he was cleaning himself up. 

Erik didn’t just want her back. He wanted to reclaim the dominance she had stolen. He pumped his dick one last time, smearing the excess cum over his tip in. Rough, frustrated motion. He wasn’t just horny. He was hunting. 

The soldier in him had taken over, and Sanaa had just become the most high-priority target of his life. 

5:18 A.M.

The gym lived in a different world before sunrise. No conversations. No crowds. Just steel, rubber flooring, and the steady percussion of plates crashing against barbells. Fluorescent lights reflected off rows of mirrors while the smell of chalk and disinfectant lingered beneath the sharper bite of sweat. 

Erik preferred it this way. 

Nobody asked questions. Nobody recognized him. Nobody expecting anything except another man putting in work. 

He stood at the squat rack rolling his shoulders beneath a fitted black compression shirt that clung to every line across his chest and arms. Dark charcoal shorts stopped just above his knees, revealing powerful quadriceps crisscrossed with veins before the workout had even begun. Black crew socks disappeared into worn training shoes that had seen enough miles to mold themselves around his feet. His locs were pulled back into a low ponytail, thick ropes hanging between his shoulder blades with a few shorter pieces escaping near his temples. Sweat had begun to gather along his hairline despite the hour. 

Erik’s headphones sealed the world away. 

Mona Lisa.

Lil Wayne’s voice filled his ears. 

Erik ducked beneath the loaded barbell and settled it across his back. Four plates. The weight felt familiar. Comfortable. He stepped back, braced, then dropped. The squat was deep enough that his hips disappeared below parallel before he exploded upward again. One. Again. Two. Again. Three. Every rep clean. Every rep angry. Every rep supposed to empty his head. Instead…

Sanaa. 

The first time she says his name. Her scent after a shower. Her laugh. Her eyes rolling whenever he said something she ain’t like. The way she’d glance at him before pretending she hadn’t. Those glasses. The bow-legged walk she does with the little switch in her hips.This the same girl that used to sleep over in Aaliyah’s room? The one that would eat cereal cross-legged in the living room? The shy girl that could barely look at him? 

“Damn.” 

Erik racked the weight harder than necessary. 

She had Jim tripping. Actually tripping. 

Erik pulled one side of his headphones back long enough to catch his own breathing before shoving it into place again. His thumb pressed the volume buttons. 

Louder. Wayne. Kendrick. 

The bass vibrated against his skull. 

It didn’t matter. She was still there. 

Erik walked toward the leg press, loading plate after plate until most people would’ve needed help moving the sled. But Erik was a different breed. His knees folded toward his chest. 

Push. 

The sled climbed. 

Lower. Push. Again. Again. Again. 

His thighs burned. 

Good. 

Maybe pain would do what music couldn’t. Maybe exhaustion would finally knock her loose.

Nope. 

Because there she was again. In her oversized t-shirts she’d somehow managed to make look better than anything designed by a fashion house. With those glossy lips looking at him because she knew the effect she had. Staring at him like she wasn’t scared of him. That sas the dangerous part. Most people kept a healthy distance, but Sanaa kept getting closer. 

Erik finished the set until his legs trembled, then sat forward with his forearms resting on his thighs, breathing through his nose. 

You gotta get it together, he thought. 

Erik stood before he could think too hard about the words. 

Walking lunges came next. Heavy dumbbells. Eighty pounds in each hand. 

Step. Lower. Drive through the heel. Step. Lower. Drive. 

His forearms tightened around the knurled handles while every muscle below his waist demanded mercy. Erik welcomed it. The mirror caught him halfway across the turf. Broad shoulders. Compression shift darkened by sweat, revealing the raised scars along his torso and arms. Gold chain tucked beneath the collar. Locs swinging lightly with every stride. A man who looked completely in control. 

Only he knew better. Because everytime his mind cleared…there she was. Her voice. Her smile. The little crease beside her nose whenever she tried not to laugh. 

This don’t make no damn sense. 

Romanian deadlifts. Hamstring curls. Bulgarian split squats. Calf raises until his calves cramped beneath his own bodyweight. An hour became an hour and a half. Then two hours. His legs felt like concrete. His shirt clung to him like a second layer of skin. Sweat traced the tattooed landscape of his arms before disappearing beneath the compression fabric. 

His phone vibrated inside his gym bag as he reached for his towel. 

One notification. 

Aaliyah: Can you be our designated driver tomorrow night big bro? The girlies wanna hit these D.C streets and drinks will be in rotation so I’m tryna be responsible. Please and thank youuuuuuu ☺️ 

His heartbeat had betrayed him before he looked and realized it was his little sister. For one ridiculous second, he hoped it was her. 

Erik shook his head at himself, grabbed the phone. And laughed under his breath. 

Damn, lil’ mama. What you doin’ to me? 

Erik slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the locker room. 

Erik: Aight 🙄

______

Sanaa stirred in her bed, sheets twisted around her legs, body aching deep, thighs trembling as she moved. A whimper slipped out before she could catch it. She blinked awake, the soreness hitting her all at once. Her hips. Her ass. The tender spots between her legs that pulsed from the night before. She lifted the hem of her oversized tee with shaky fingers, marks blooming across the curve of her waist, dark little reminders pressed into her skin. She traced one with her thumb, biting her lip when the pressure made her thighs twitch again. 

Killmonger had her going stupid on the dick last night. 

Flashes of memory shown behind her closed lids. 

Her bouncing. Him picking her up in the air to drop her down in his dick. The slow grind-thrust he did that made her dizzy. How she came more than three times and still had the drive to ride him. Not once. Twice. The look of defeat in his eyes. The way he said her name all weak and pussy-drunk. How his big, strong hands gripped, pinned, caressed, and stilled her body. It was addictive fucking Erik. 

Sanaa rolled over until her feet dangled over the side of her bed. She braced herself before pushing off, knees weak. She needed to stretch. There was no was she would be going out tonight in heels and twerking if she couldn’t even stand on two feet. She walked over to her walk-in closet and grabbed her yoga mat. She got into her first position. Her elbows pressed gently against the insides of her knees, easing them apart while she rocked from side to side, loosening joints that still carried last night’s workout.

She flowed into a ninety-ninety hip stretch next, one leg folded in front of her, the other tucked behind. Her fingertips rested lightly on the mat as she leaned forward until she felt the stretch bloom through her glutes and hips. She lingered there, breathing evenly before switching sides. Cat-cows followed, her spine rolling one vertebra at a time, then slow world’s greatest stretches that opened her hip flexors, hamstrings, and thoracic spine all at once.

By the time she finished with a few kneeling ankle rocks and controlled knee-over-toe lunges, warmth had replaced stiffness. Her hips felt lighter. Her knees tracked smoothly. She rose from the mat with an easy smile, bouncing once on the balls of her feet feeling stronger than she had fifteen minutes before. 

Sanaa could almost see him. The massive, scarred warrior reduced to a shaking mess. The memory of it sent a fresh throb between her thighs.  She had ridden him. Every inch of that thick, veiny dick stretching her open, pushing her to the brink. She had felt his control slipping, heard the way his breath hitched and his voice grew ragged. Begging to fill her pussy up. And then, at the absolute peak, when he was practically sobbing for it, she had simply slid off him. 

Sanaa remembered the look of sheer, stunned betrayal on his face as she stood up, leaving him stranded. He had cum so hard just from the sudden loss of her gushy pussy, his nut erupting in thick, wasted ropes that coated his own stomach and thighs. He had been left to drown in his own cum, a ruined man, while Sanaa fluffed her hair and walked away without a backward glance. And she was glad she didn’t. Because she may have caved. 

In that moment, Sanaa had felt an intoxicating surge of power. It wasn’t just about the sex. It was the psychological victory. She was a petite woman. A slim-thick frame that he could practically snap in half if he wanted to, yet she had brought him to his knees without lifting a finger—well she did lift that pussy up and down his dick. She had made a man of his stature, a ruthless killer and a dominant force of nature crumble. It made her feel like a goddess. A true woman who knew exactly how to wield her sexuality as a weapon. The contrast—his raw, masculine aggression versus her soft, bratty rigor—had been the ultimate aphrodisiac. 

The triumph began to morph into a delectable, trembling anticipation. 

Sanaa knew Erik. She knew that a man like him didn’t just take a loss. He planned a counter-attack. By leaving him like that, she hadn’t just won a round. She had issued a challenge. She could almost feel his possessive rage simmering. The dark, hungry fire that would be waiting for her the next time they were in the same room. 

Her thoughts went from ‘that dick is the reason I keep playing with myself’ to ‘that dick is the reason I’m scared to let him fuck me’ to ‘that dick is the reason I keep letting him fuck me.’ 

A shiver ran down her spine, her pussy quivering instinctively. Sanaa was practically craving the moment he would decide he’d had enough of her games. She imagined his massive hand wrapping around her throat, pinning her down with a full weight of his muscular body, his voice a low, dangerous growl in her ear telling her exactly how he was going to punish her for her audacity. She wanted him to tame her. She wanted to feel that dominance return with a vengeance. To be stuffed full of his cum. To be gagged by his dick. A physical reminder that while she could play with fire, he was the one who owned the flame. The thought of being completely overwhelmed by him, of having her bratty confidence crushed under all that muscle, those scars, those tattoos, made her ache. 

She was just about to go and take a shower when a knock hit the door. Before she could answer, Aaliyah pushed it open and stepped inside. 

“Gurl. You still sleep? It’s almost twelve in the afternoon, sis.” 

“I could have been in here flicking my bean.” Sanaa throws back, rolling her eyes. 

Aaliyah flopped down at the foot of the bed, phone in her hand. 

“Jordan been blowing me up all morning talkin’ ‘bout he sorry. I got his ass blocked so fast he prolly still typing. I ain’t got time for that nigga and his weak-ass bars or that dusty podcast he keep pushin’. He can keep that energy over there.” 

“For how long before you end up taking him back, Liyah?” Sanaa replied with amusement. 

“I swear I’m not this time. Plus, I’m leaving for my fellowship in three days. I wanna turn up and forget his ass. Maybe I’ll run into a new man and have a little fun. Who knows.” 

Aliyah poked her tongue out. Sanaa laughed. 

“Naima coming over to stay the night. The other girlies will be here tomorrow. And I texted Erik to ask if he can be our bodyguard for the night. He said aight.” 

Sanaa had a visceral reaction to the sound of his name. She played it off with a chuckle and a shoulder shrug.

“That was sweet of him. Maybe he can have some fun instead of staying cooped up in here.” 

“Gurl, I can say the same for you.”

“What?” Sanaa looked over at Aaliyah. 

“Nothing.” 

Aaliyah stretched out, back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Sanaa pretended to scroll through her planner on her iPad, but every slight movement of her weight sent a fresh ache rolling through her pussy. She pressed her knees together under the desk, trying to breath steady. 

Aaliyah’s silence made Sanaa glance over to her best friend. She had this look on her face. Her usual chattiness halted.

“You good, Liyah?” 

“Yeah,” Aaliyah said, but her voice dragged a little. She looked like she had more sitting on her tongue, something heavy, but she just sat up instead. “I gotta get ready anyway.” 

She stood, crossing the room, and reached out to squeeze Sanaa’s shoulder—hard. The way she always did when she was feeling playful. Sanaa shoved her in return. 

“Don’t be all day in here, bitch. I ordered us breakfast from that corner bakery we like. And some macha!” 

11:08 A.M. 

Washington, D.C. 

Maple syrup. Butter. And fresh matcha. 

Aaliyah had ordered breakfast from the little bakery around the corner that everyone on campus swore by. Empty brown paper bags sat folded on the kitchen island beside two half-finished iced matches, their cups beaded with condensation. Flaky crumbs from croissant breakfast sandwiches littered white napkins, evidence that neither woman had been particularly concerned with eating neatly. Sanaa leaned against the island, one hip resting against the quartz countertop while she absently stirred the last bit of ice in her drink. 

Fresh out of the shower, she looked nothing like the woman she’d become once makeup and a dress entered the equation. Her dark curls were piled into a messy bun high on her head, loose ringlets escaping around her temples and the back of her neck. Gold hoops decorated her ears. A pair of turquoise tortoise shell glasses rested low on her nose while she scrolled through her phone. She wore charcoal yoga leggings that hugged her hips down to her calves, igniting her curves, a matching sports bra, and soft cream house slippers. Her lips glistened with caramel gloss and her skin still carried that fresh-out-the-shower glow because of the shower oil she’d used. Saltwater Vanilla. Comfort looked dangerously good on her.

Across from her, Aaliyah looked equally at home. She’d pulled on an oversized Howard University T-shirt that swallowed her frame and. Pair of black biker shorts. White crew socks disappeared into fuzzy tan slippers, and her hair had been gathered into a sleek puff. Her face was completely bare except for mascara and lip balm, making her look younger than twenty-two. She took another sip of her macha and sighed dramatically. 

“I don’t even wanna get dressed.” 

Sanaa laughed without looking up. “You literally planned this.” 

“I know.” Aaliyah frowned into her cup. “Planning it and participating are two different things.” 

“You got a whole fellowship to celebrate, sis. Then, you graduate. Be happy.” 

“I know.” Aaliyah said. 

“You begged us to come.” 

“I know, bitch.” Aaliyah said.

“So…”

“I still don’t wanna put on lashes.” 

Sanaa shook her head. “You don’t wanna sit and get your lashes done. And you don’t wanna put on the strip. Lazy.” 

“I’m preserving my energy.”

Sanaa scuffed. “You sound eighty.” 

“I feel eighty.” 

A knock sounded through the apartment. Three quick raps. Before either woman could move, Erik stepped into the hallway. 

He’d already showered too, but it seems he forgot to put on a shirt. And why are his athletic shorts dangerously low on his waist like that? The locs gathered up into a messy bun? A silver cross sitting between his pecs? 

What the fuck? 

“I got it.” He said. 

He started toward the front door. Then, he looked up. 

His eyes landed on Sanaa. 

Everything inside him stalled for half a heartbeat. She wasn’t dressed up. She wasn’t even trying. She was standing there with messy hair, glasses, slippers, and gloss, lazily drinking matcha while sunlight poured across her skin. 

Cute. Comfy. Entirely too familiar. 

His gaze lingered just long enough for her to notice. She looked up over the rim of her glasses. Their eyes met. The corner of her mouth threatened to lift. Just a little. 

He recovered first. 

“I’ll get the door.” 

His voice sounded perfectly normal. 

Erik turned the handle. A delivery driver stood outside holding an oversized edible arrangement. 

“Delivery for…Sanaa Carter?” 

“Yeah. Thanks homie.” 

The driver handed it over, offered a quick you’re welcome, and disappeared down the hallway. Erik nudged the door shut with his foot while balancing the arrangement in one hand. Chocolate covered strawberries. Pineapple flowers. Melon. Grapes. The whole thing sat in a decorative brown container wrapped with a bright green bow. As he walked toward the dining table, he spotted the small white envelope tucked between the fruit. 

He pulled it free. Read it. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. 

“Hm.” 

He set the arrangement down. 

Both women immediately wandered over. 

“Oooo,” Aaliyah sang. “Who got an Edible Arrangement?!” 

Sanaa laughed. “Jordan with his sympathy gift.” 

Erik looked at her. Then at the card. Then back at her. He held the card out. A slight curl of his plush top lip. 

“It’s for you, Bri.” 

Sanaa accepted it. Her brow lifted as she read it allowed.

“A sweet bouquet for a sweet girl. I hope this brightens your day, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Signed…Nathan.” 

She smiled. Just a little. “Oh.” 

Aaliyah gasped so dramatically she nearly dropped her drink. “Oooooooooooh!!!”

Sanaa rolled her eyes. “Girl.” 

“No.” Aaliyah pointed at the arrangement. “Not him sending you and Edible Arrangement, bitch!” 

Sanaa laughed. “He’s thoughtful.” 

“He tryna say you edible, sis.” 

Sanaa burst into laughter, nudging Aaliyah out of the way with her hip. “Aaliyah!”

“I’m serious! What he tryna say you taste like pineapples?” 

She leaned closer to inspect one of the chocolate-covered strawberries. “Mhmmmm. You left your mark on him, Bri.” 

Wanna shook her head, unable to stop smiling. “It is kinda sweet.” 

“It is sweet. Thoughtful.” Aaliyah said. 

She carefully lifted one of the pineapple flowers by the stem, admiring how it had been carved. “This is actually really pretty.” 

Across the table, Erik stared at the arrangement like it had personally offended him. There was silence. Long silence. Then…

“…Fruit look old.” 

The women turned toward him. Sanaa blinked. Aaliyah fought back a laugh. 

“What?” Sanaa said.

Erik pointed. “That grape wrinkled.” 

“It is not.” 

“It definitely is. You got glasses in you can’t see that?” 

Aaliyah squinted. “It kinda…” 

Sanaa immediately defended the fruit. “It is not wrinkled.” 

“It look tired.” Erik said. 

Aaliyah giggled, staring between them. 

Sanaa had to laugh herself. “Fruit get tired, E?” 

Erik put his hands up, biceps flexing in a way that almost broke Sanaa’s composure. 

“I’m just tellin’ you what I’m seein’.” He leaned slightly closer. “And then flowers…”

“What flowers?” 

“The pineapple.”

Sanaa looked. “They’re cute.” 

“They look like they wiltin’.” 

Aaliyah turned away laughing quietly to herself. 

“It’s carved fruit.”

“Mm.” Erik nodded once. “Cheap-ass edible plant.” 

Sanaa folded her arms. “You a haterrr.”

“I ain’t hatin’.”

“You absolutely hatin’. On fruit though? If you wanted some all you had to do was ask, E.” 

Aaliyah laughed so hard she grabbed the counter. “Oh my God.” She dabbed her eyes. “Whew! Ya’ll funny!”

Erik continued studying it with the same expression someone might reserve for a suspicious car engine. 

“I’ve seen better strawberries.”

“You are ridiculous.” 

“I’m honest.” 

Sanaa picked up a chocolate-covered strawberry and held it toward him. “You want one, meany?” 

“Nah.” 

“You sure?” 

“I’m positive, B–” he caught himself. “Bri.” 

“You don’t even know if it’s good and you judging.” 

“I know enough.” 

Sanaa took a bite instead. The chocolate cracked softly. Her eyes widened. 

“Mmmm.” 

Aaliyah immediately reached for one too. She took a bite, eyes widening. “Oh, that’s good! Fruit taste fresh to me.” 

Erik watched both of them eating. Still unimpressed. 

“…chocolate doin’ all the work—”

Sanaa laughed so hard she nearly choked. “You are a professional hater.” 

“I call shit like I see it.” Erik fired back. 

“You jealous of fruit, big bro?” Aaliyah teased.

“I ain’t jealous of shit. Give me a reason to be.” 

“You sound jealous, E.” Sanaa said.

Erik looked at the arrangement one last time before shaking his head. “Hope the nigga kept the receipt.” 

With that, he turned and walked into the living room as if the conversation had exhausted him. Behind him, the girls dissolved into another fit of laughter. From the sofa, Erik could see Sanaa on her phone. She brought it to her ear, and the minute she spoke Nathan’s name Erik’s jaw ticked.

He leaned back, picked up the TV remote, and stared at the blank screen without turning it on. 

An Edible Arrangement? Out of everything that man could’ve sent…fruit. 

Erik rubbed a hand over his beard.

Ain’t even send her flowers. 

His eyes drifted toward the dining room where Sanaa was still smiling with the phone pressed to her ear while Aaliyah teased her. 

His mouth flattened. 

Cheap-ass fruit.

Another knock echoed through the apartment. Aaliyah looked up from the edible arrangement and grinned.

“That gotta be Naima.”

She hurried to the front door and pulled it open. Naima stepped inside with an overnight bag slung over one shoulder, dressed in an oversized white linen button-down over black slim-fit jeans and clean white sneakers. Her twist-out framed her face perfectly, her large almond eyes immediately finding the people gathered around the dining table.

“There she is,” Aaliyah said, wrapping her in a quick hug.

“Congratulations again, Fellowship Girl.”

“You gon’ make me cry.”

Naima smiled before making her rounds. She hugged Sanaa tightly.

“Hey, pretty.”

“Hey, Nai.”

She lifted a hand toward Erik. “Hey, Erik.”

He nodded once. “Naima.”

Her attention drifted to the centerpiece on the table.

“…Hold on.” She leaned in. “Who sent that?”

Aaliyah didn’t even give Sanaa a chance to answer. “Nathan.”

Naima’s eyebrows climbed. “Oh, he trying.”

Sanaa laughed, turning the little card over in her fingers. “I told you he’s sweet.”

“Mmm.” Naima examined one of the chocolate-covered strawberries. “He definitely scored some points.”

Aaliyah sighed dramatically, the smile slipping from her face.

“Meanwhile…” She folded her arms. “I’m officially done with Jordan.”

Naima’s expression softened immediately. Without saying a word, she rubbed slow circles across Aaliyah’s back.

“I know.”

Aaliyah let out a long breath. “I’m over it.”

“You keep saying that.”

“This time I mean it.”

Naima studied her for a second before hooking an arm through hers. “C’mon.”

“Where we going?”

“I need details.”

Aaliyah groaned. “I knew you was gon’ interrogate me.”

“Damn right.”

The two disappeared down the hallway toward Aaliyah’s bedroom, their voices fading behind a closing door. Sanaa watched them go with an amused smile before reaching for another chocolate-covered strawberry. From the living room, Erik glanced toward the edible arrangement again.

He still looked unconvinced.

______

Sanaa was sitting at the dining table, talking to Nathan on the phone. She had it on speaker, completely aware of Erik sitting in the living room. This felt like déjà vu. The last time she was talking on the phone with Nathan, she had a mouth full of Erik’s dick.

“Mhm. I wanted to tell you thank you. It was really sweet.”

“I’m glad it made it.”

“It definitely did.” Sanaa walked over and plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from the arrangement. “Aaliyah and I have already been picking at it.”

“So it passed inspection?”

“It passed with flying colors.”

She bit into the chocolate strawberry, eyes flicking over to Erik. He sat back, legs wide and swinging, eyeing her with an unblinking stare that did the opposite of what he intended it to do. It only made her pussy wet. When will he realize that those looks don’t get the reaction he’s looking for? 

“I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I do. I really do.” Her voice softened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Ya’ll going out tomorrow night right? For Aaliyah?”

Erik isn’t saying a word to her, but his eyes are locked on her, dark and tracking the way she smiles. The way she makes her voice all sweet. He grabs his phone beside him quick. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

Erik: Come here Miss Carter. 

Sanaa glances at him, a bratty smirk playing on her lips. She doesn’t move an inch, keeping her gaze fixed forward as she responds to Nathan. Sanaa smiled to herself before taking a bite of the strawberry.

“That’s dangerous.”

“What?”

“You getting thoughtful this early.”

Nathan laughed. “I didn’t realize kindness came with a waiting period.”

“I’m just saying…now you’re setting expectations.”

“I can live with that.”

She shook her head, smiling wider.

Buzz.

Erik: I ain’t gon ask you again. Get over here.

Sanaa bites her lip, feeling the heat radiating off him. She types back quickly, her thumb flying across the screen while Nathan continues to ramble. 

Sanaa: Sorry daddy. Aaliyah and Naima. We can’t do nothing 😔 

Erik’s expression doesn’t change, but his jaw tightens. He don’t give a fuck who in the apartment. The only thought running through his mind is her disobeying him. 

Erik: I don’t give a fuck about that, Bri. If you don’t move that ass over here right now, I’m a come get you. And I won’t be gentle about it.

Sanaa shivers, her pussy giving a sudden, wet throb. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her chest, imagining those huge, calloused hands gripping her waist and tossing her over his shoulder. 

Sanaa: You so damn dramatic lol. All because he sent me fruit 😂. Mad you got competition? 

Erik lets out a low, silent huff of a laugh. He shifts his weight, the fabric of his shorts straining against the thick, heavy length of his dick. He remembers last night clearly. The way she’d taken him, the raw, desperate energy of it. The bounce of that ass. The creamy mess. Nathan ain’t got shit on him. 

Erik: Since you wanna play...tell me something. Why you ride my dick like that last night? Huh? 

Sanaa’s breath hitches. She almost forgets to answer Nathan. 

“You know,” he continued, “I remembered you saying you liked fruit more than candy, so it seemed like an easy decision.”

“You remembered that?”

“Course I did.”

“See…” she teased. “Now you showing off.”

“Nah. I just pay attention.”

Sanaa: I don’t know what you’re talking about 😇 I’m innocent. 

Erik: Stop fucking playing. You was shaking. Taking every inch of this dick like you was starving for it. You rode me until I was seeing stars, then you just...left.

Sanaa: I didn't leave. I just finished.

Erik: Finished? You left me leaking all over myself. My chest, my stomach...just a fucking mess of cum cuz you decided you was done. 

Sanaa feels a surge of power, remembering the look on his face—the ruthless soldier reduced to a shaking, overstimulated mess because of her. She types back, her voice sounding breathy as she tells Nathan, “Well…thank you. Seriously. It made my day.”

Sanaa: You liked it. you loved how much of a mess I made of you. Let’s not play pretend Killmonger. 

Erik:Thing is I ain’t gotta pretend. I loved it. Now I wanna do it back. I wanna see you dripping. 

He watches her, his eyes dropping to her legs. He knows exactly what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t. Them yoga pants and got no panties underneath. 

Erik: Stand up.

Sanaa: what? Nathan is still talking 😒

Erik: Fuck that nigga. Stand up and put some shorts on. 

Sanaa looked back at Erik. The risk of Aaliyah walking in is high, but the look in Erik’s eyes tells her that if she don’t obey, he’s going to stop texting and start taking.

Sanaa: you a menace. 😩

Erik: And that pussy wet. Now move.

Sanaa slipped into her room, her heart hammering against her ribs. She took off her yoga pants and grabbed a pair of thin, grey cotton shorts. Exactly what Erik wanted. Way too small, the fabric stretched tight over her curves and designed to ride up the second she moved. She slid them on, completely bottomless underneath. Waxed pussy lips against the crotch of the shorts. They clung to her hips and barely covered the swell of her bubble booty. 

On her way out of the room, she could have sworn she’d heard a sharp intake of breath coming from Aaliyah’s room. 

Sanaa brushed it off as she walked back out into the living area, her walk nothing but bow legs and cheeks swaying, knowing exactly how the fabric was hiking up. Erik was waiting, his massive frame lounging back, but his eyes were like lasers, tracking the way her cheeks peeked out from under the hem.

On the speakerphone, Nathan’s voice was smooth, oblivious. 

“So,” he asked, “does this mean I earned another date?”

She laughed. “You asking or assuming?”

“I’m asking. Confidently.”

“You coming out tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

The moment the words “see you tonight” left Nathan’s mouth, Erik’s expression darkened. A flicker of pure, possessive rage crossed his face. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck cording. He didn’t like the idea of Nathan touching what belonged to him, especially not when he had her dripping and desperate right here. Wearing the shorts he told her to put on. Looking down at him like she knew who lap she was sitting in. 

Without a word, Erik reached out and gripped her hip, yanking her forward with a strength that left no room for argument. He guided her to straddle his right thigh. He was wearing loose athletic shorts, the fabric thin enough that she could feel the radiating heat of his skin and the rock-hard density of the muscle beneath. As she settled onto him, Erik ain’t waste a second. He brought both of his massive hands up, cupping the cheeks of her ass and squeezing the flesh with a bruising grip. He started to rub, his palms kneading her curves, pushing the thin fabric of her shorts deep into her crack. He was marking her, claiming every inch of her skin while another man’s voice filled the room.

"Sanaa? You still with me?" Nathan asked.

Sanaa gasped, her voice hitching. “Yeah...yeah, I–I’m here, Nathan.”

Erik leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, then his tongue darted out to flick her earlobe, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that only she could feel. “Don’t let him hear you shake, you just might hurt his feelings, baby,” he whispered, the command cutting through her.

He shifted his grip. He took one large hand and pressed it firmly against the small of her lower back, pinning her against him. With the other hand, he kept a tight, controlling grip on her hip. He didn’t just want her to move, he wanted her to work for it.

“Roll your spine,” he breathed into her ear, his voice thick with authority. “Grind it. I wanna feel every bit of that wet pussy rubbing against me. Right fuckin’ now. Before I let your little nigga know his crush gettin’ slutted out by her best friend brother.” 

Chills.

Sanaa obeyed, her body trembling. She began to arch her back, rolling her hips in a slow, circular motion. Because he was wearing shorts, there was almost no barrier. The hard, ridged muscle of his quad pressed directly into her clit and the opening of her pussy. It felt like rubbing herself against a warm, living pillar of granite. Every time she rolled her hips, the friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, making her internal muscles clench violently.

Erik watched her face with a sly smirk. The one with the single dimple peeking. The one that drove Sanaa crazy. He loved the way her eyes fluttered, the way she bit her lip to keep from moaning. But even in the height of the grind, the soldier in him remained vigilant. His eyes flicked toward the hallway, scanning for any sign of Aaliyah or Naima, his instincts honed for stealth and surveillance. The risk of being caught only added to the filth of it.

“Sanaa, you sound...distracted. Everything aight?” Nathan asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“I’m—I’m good. What were you saying?” 

“Nothing important, just saying shit. Hahaha…so uh…what you doin’?” 

Mm—uh, reading. Reading—uhhh, sorry the words are like bluring together right now I think I might need a nap.”

Erik quietly laughed, then whispered. “Nasty ass Edible Arrangement.” 

Sanaa’s giggle was muffled against Erik’s neck. 

“I don’t want you falling asleep on the phone, Sanaa. Get your beauty rest, baby girl.” 

Erik presses his lips to her ear. “Listen to him...talkin’ all that sweet shit. Does he know you shakin’ for me right now? Does he know how wet you are for a real man?” Erik kissed along her jaw. “Answer him, Sanaa. Tell him you’re ‘just relaxin’ While you grindin’ on my thigh...tell him how relaxed you are.”

“I’m just really relaxed right now.” Sanaa watched Erik’s hands smooth up her thighs to cup her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples through her sports bra. “Really…I…mmm.”

“Mmm? What type of relaxin’ you doin’, girl?”  Nathan chuckled. 

Erik’s hand on her back pressed harder, forcing her to grind deeper, more aggressively. He flexed his thigh muscle, the hard mass pulsing upward, driving directly into her sensitive spot. But right there. Beside his thigh. His dick that’s equal parts long and thick, pulsed and jumped. This lil’ freaky bitch get him so fired up. He flared his nostrils, eyes fixed on her with that low, hazy look, high off her body working his thigh. 

Sanaa looked down at his dick. Her breath hitched.

“Woah…Sanaa?”

“Mhm.” Sanaa buried her face in Erik’s neck. 

“Are you…I don’t wanna assume shit but uh…are you…touching yourself?” 

“Go ‘head, baby. Tell him you’re thinkin’ about him. Tell him while you feel my dick twitch against your leg...tell him he’s the only thing on your mind.”

He was really playing right now. Sanaa wasn’t about to back down. She licked her lips, her gaze locked with Erik’s while she spoke. 

 Sanaa bites her bottom lip. “You’re the only thing on my mind, Nathan…” her fingers crept down until they settled on the stiff pole sitting between his legs. He was hot to the touch. “I’m thinking about you…”

“Damn…really? And what are you doin’ that got you thinkin’ about me?” 

“You shakin’, lil’ mama. Is that for him? Or is it ‘cause you know I’m about to make you leak all over these floors the second you hang up?”

“Sanaa?” 

“Ride it for real,” Erik whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "Put your weight into it. Show me how much you want this. Who you think you is teasing me? Huh? Nah…you teasing him. Got him thinkin’ you touching yourself to thoughts of him…ttsk…such a bad girl, Sanaa…”

Sanaa let out a muffled whimper, her hips jumping in a desperate effort. She was riding his thigh like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, her pussy soaking the thin fabric of her shorts and moistening his thigh. The feeling was overwhelming. The combination of his commanding presence, the rough texture of the shorts, and the sheer power of his leg beneath her. She felt small, fragile, and completely dominated.

Sanaa tried to lean away for a second, her bratty instinct wanting to tease him, but Erik’s grip tightened, snapping her back against him. He placed both hands on her waist and repositioned her on his thigh. 

“I ain’t tell you to stop,” Erik growled softly, his voice a warning. “Keep grindin’. Every time he speaks, you move faster. You my little toy right now, and you gon’ do exactly what the fuck I say.”

“I’m thinkin’ about what I’d let you do to m–me when I see you.” Sanaa managed to stammer out to Nathan, her voice trembling.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Erik accelerated the pace, his thigh flexing upward in a punishing motion that forced her to bounce. She was jumping on his thigh now, her pussy slamming against the hard muscle with every movement. The friction was intense, bordering on too much pressure, but it was the kind of ache that made her crave him more.

She was right on the edge, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. She looked into Erik’s eyes and saw the absolute control he held over her. He wasn’t just fucking her with his leg. He was breaking her will, reminding her that no matter who she talked to or where she went, she belonged to the soldier.

Sanaa’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, bratty spark. She didn’t just want to be dominated. She wanted to push Erik until he snapped, to see that disciplined soldier persona crumble into raw, possessive rage. With a sudden, fluid movement, Sanaa lifted off his thigh and straddled his lap completely. She sat down heavy on him, her pussy pressing directly against the massive, rock-hard bulge stretching the fabric of his shorts. She leaned back slightly, her chest heaving, the phone pressed to her ear. Her voice changed. It became honeyed, dripping with a fake, innocent sweetness that was designed to drive Erik insane. 

“I can’t wait to get you back to my room. I really want to see what you’re working with…see if you can handle me.” 

As the words left her lips, Sanaa began to move. She didn’t just move, she started pressing her weight down, rotating her hips so that her clit rubbed directly against the thick, veined lengths of his dick through the cloth. She was grinding her pussy over his fat bulge, seeking every inch of that hard pipe, her eyes locked onto Erik’s. 

Erik went completely still. His body became a statue of coiled muscle, his hands gripping the edges of the seat so hard his knuckles bulged like they were trying to break skin. He didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes—dark, hooded, and burning—were fixed on her face. He watched her lips move, heard her offer herself to another man, all while she used his own dick as a rubbing post. The mixture of rage and arousal in Erik’s gaze was suffocating. He looked like he wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her into a fucked-out coma right there. 

On the other end of the line, Nathan’s voice came through, sounding warm, eager, and completely oblivious to the filth happening on the other side. 

“You killin’ me, Sanaa,” Nathan chuckled, his tone respectful but clearly aroused. “Trust me, I can handle you. I’m gonna take my time with you…make sure you’re completely taken care of. I wanna make you feel everything.”

Sanaa let out a soft, shaky moan, one that sounded like it was for Nathan, but was actually a reaction to the way Erik’s dick twitched beneath her. She increased the pace, grinding harder, her hips snapping forward to rock her pussy against the tip of his dick. She was practically begging for him to break, her eyes challenging him, daring him to drop her or take her. 

“Mmm, you sound so confident,” Sanaa whispered into the phone, her voice breaking as she felt Erik’s hardness pulse against her. “I hope you can keep that same energy when I’m under you. I’m a lot to handle, Nathan…I don’t know if you’re ready for me.” 

Nathan let out a low, breathy laugh. “Try me. I’ll show you exactly what I’m capable of. I’m counting down the hours until I can get my hands on you.” 

Erik’s jaw clenched so tight a vein popped in his temple. He could smell that wet ass pussy leaking through her thin shorts and soaking into his own. The fact that she was using his dick to get herself off while promising herself to that little nigga was a level of disrespect that made his blood boil.

She was selling him a false story because ain’t no fucking way Nathan getting his hands on Sanaa. 

Erik’s hand suddenly shot up, his thick fingers wrapping firmly around the back of her neck. His grip was a silent command. He pulled her head back slightly, forcing her to look down at him while she continued to grind on his bulge. His eyes told her everything: you think this a game? You think you’re in control? Just wait until I get this phone out of your hand.

“I’m gon’ fuck the memory of that nigga right out your head. You won’t even remember how to spell his name by the time I’m done wit’ you.” Erik whispered.

On the other end of the line, Nathan was completely caught in her web, his voice thick with a hunger he didn’t realize was being fueled by another man’s dick. 

“Sanaa…damn, I can practically feel you, baby,” Nathan groaned, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m literally counting down the seconds. I’m gonna make you scream my name tomorrow night.” 

Sanaa let out a shaky, breathy laugh, her hips rolling in a slow, agonizing circle over Erik’s bulge. The sheer size of him stretching the material of his shorts. She looked Erik dead in the eyes, her expression a mix of bratty defiance and raw lust. 

“Mmm, I wish I could stay on the phone, Nathan,” she whispered, her voice dripping with a fake regret that made Erik’s grip on her neck tighten. “But I gotta hang up now. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Already?” Nathan sounded genuinely bummed, his disappointment palpable. He was clearly hard as a rock on the other end, left hanging by the very woman who was currently using a soldier’s dick as a rubbing post for her kitty. “You’re killing me, Sanaa. Seriously.” He paused, his tone transitioning to something more possessive. “You owe me for this. Big time.” 

“I know I do,” Sanaa cooed, and then she clicked the phone off. 

Sanaa tossed her phone quick fast and with a renewed hunger she crushed her pussy against the thick ridge of his dick, tilting her pelvis so that her clit could get most of the friction. 

Erik’s voice came out as a low, dangerous growl, vibrating against her chest. “You a little liar, ain’t you?” He hissed. “Lying to that lil’ nigga, telling him you gin’ give him some pussy…knowing damn well you ain’t giving him a fucking drop of what belongs to me.” 

“Oh, so this pussy belongs to you now? Since when?” 

Erik brought his hand around to the front of her neck now. Sanaa gasped, her back arching as she rolled her hips, feeling the head of his dick press firmly against her clit each time she drew her hips back. The sensation was electric. 

“Tell me the truth, you fuckin’ brat,” Erik commanded, his other hand gripping her waist with a bruising force. He dug his fingers into her hip, anchoring her. “Who…” Erik rolled his hips up. “Pussy…” he did it again, his dick sliding between her pussy lips through her shorts. “Is…” when he did it again, Sanaa’s breath caught. “This…”

Sanaa bit her lip, eyes fluttering as she ground down harder, pussy clenching in a desperate need to be filled. “Yours,” she whimpered, the word barely a whisper. “It’s yours, Killmonger…”

His nervous system shifted to DEFCON without asking his permission. The sensation hit him the way a snapped tripwire hits a man who’s survived enough war to know the explosion always comes a heartbeat later. 

“That’s right,” he grunted, his voice getting nastier. “Grinding that lil’ pussy on this dick so good like that. Fuck…you ridin’ my lap like you need me to nut just like this…”

“You tryna stop me or you tryna fuck me, Mr. Killmonger?”

His dick was so hard. So hard. Erik couldn’t even remember being dry humped. But the way she was doing it…

“You talk tough but this pussy got you holdin’ your breath.” She leans in, tongue darting out to lick the side of his face, “This the part where you grip me, bend me, and fuck the brat outta me, right? You don’t gotta pull it out yet…let me tease it a little first…”

“You know what you doin’. That’s the part that fuck me up.” Erik whispered. 

Sanaa didn’t answer with words, she answered with a deep roll of her pelvis, sliding her wetness across the length of him. She could feel the way his dick jumped against her clit. 

Erik stared at her, his eyes a dark mixture of lust and genuine disbelief. “I don’t even know how the fuck you this fine.” He muttered, his voice raw. “It don’t make no fucking sense how you look this good while being this nasty.” 

Sanaa leaned in closer to his face, her lips almost brushing his, tilting her head with a slow blink and a bite of her lip. 

“I know I’m special…you remember how it sounded the first time I creamed on your dick, daddy?” 

Erik’s jaw flexed and his nostrils flared. “I laid your little ass out. That was supposed to be the only time you get this dick…” 

“If it was only supposed to be one time…why your dick tryna talk to me again?” 

Inside his own body, the pressure was building to a breaking point. Erik could feel the blood gorging his dick, making it feel oversized and tight, the skin stretched to its absolute limit. Every time she dipped her hips, pressing her weight down on him, he felt the blunt force of her pelvic bone hitting his pubic bone, a heavy thud that vibrated through his entire body. The stiffness was an ache, a demanding, throbbing need to burst through the barrier and bury himself deep in her little pussy. He felt pre-cum leaking from his tip, lubricating the friction, making the slide of her pussy against him feel smoother, filthier, and more urgent. 

Erik watched her face—the bratty, confident look she wore—and it only made his dick twitch harder. He could feel the pulsing of his own heartbeat in his dick, a heavy, thumping cadence that matched the pace of her grinding. The sensation of her radiating through the cloth, the way she seemed to mold herself perfectly to the curve of his dick, made him feel like he was being consumed.

“You feel that, daddy?” Sanaa whispered, her lips grazing his earlobe. “You feel how fucking wet I am for you? I want you to stretch me out again…say the word and I’ll slide this pussy on, daddy…real slow. Or you scared of it now?”

Erik’s eyes flicked toward the hall when he heard faint laughter coming from Aaliyah’s room. 

“Sanaa…you don’t want this smoke. Say one more thing, I swear to God—”

Sanaa spread her legs wider to get a deeper, more direct friction, her pussy gripping the bulge of his dick through the barrier of her shorts and his. She let out a soft, shaky moan, her eyes locking onto his with a bratty glint.

“Nathan thinks he’s getting this pussy tomorrow night,” she breathed, a cruel, sexy little smile playing on her lips. “He’s probably sitting there right now, thinking about my pussy… not knowing that it’s been stretched out by your dick. Not knowing that I’m grinding on you so hard I can feel your heart beating in your balls…” She rolled her hips in a tight circle, making sure he felt every inch of her soaking heat. She leaned back, her spine curving, her glossy lips parted as she looked down at him, her voice becoming a provocative command. “Tell me you love it. Tell me you love knowing that I’m lying to that nigga just so I can feel you inside me. You like knowing that I’d rather have this big, mean dick than anything he could ever give me, don’t you?”

Erik’s grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, but Sanaa didn’t flinch. She leaned back in, her voice dropping even lower, becoming a seductive poison.

“I can feel you shaking, Killmonger. You’re so fucking hard for me. Does it drive you crazy? Knowing that I’m your little slut, but right now…right now I’m the one ruining you? I’m the one making you lose your fucking mind while I just… slide…right…here.”

Erik grunts deep in his throat. She whispered against his skin, her voice thick with lust.

“You scared of gettin’ caught or you scared you’ll nut in your shorts? Don’t front, daddy. You need this more than I do.” She nipped at his earlobe, her breath erratic. “I’m such a little slut for you, aren’t I? Just a little wet, needy slut who needs her Daddy to take control and fuck the lie right out of her. Do it, Erik. Tell me how much you hate that I’m this fine. Tell me how much you want to punish me for teasing you. How much you wanna break this young pussy open—”

He couldn’t bring himself to lift her ass off his lap. He could have her on her back in seconds. Folded. Pinned. But he couldn’t move. Erik couldn’t. 

“Aw…Killmonger don’t talk now? This all that death name come with?”

Erik’s eyes were like missiles aimed at her. Dark pools of primal energy. But the way his brows pinched. The way his lips poked out. The shaky exhale. He was close. 

He stopped letting her do all the work. Erik moved, his powerful thighs flexing as he began to thrust upward, meeting her downward grinds with a punishing force. Now they were humping each other, a frantic collision of cloth and flesh. The friction was intense, the desire between them building into a fever pitch. 

Sanaa leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath hot and erratic. She let out a muffled moan, trying to stay quiet but failing as the pressure on her clit became unbearable. 

“Oh god, daddy…that big dick feel so fucking good against me,” she whimpered into his ear, her voice a seductive poison designed to ruin him. “I’m so happy…I finally have the dick I’ve always dreamed of. I don’t want that other shit. I want this…I want your big, thick dick stretching me out until I can’t walk.”

Erik let out a guttural grunt, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He was shaking, his muscles coiled like a spring, the sheer audacity of her words pushing him to the absolute edge. He gripped her waist even tighter, lifting her slightly so he could slam his bulge upward into her pussy with a heavy, calculated impact that made her vision blur. His face contorted into a mask of pure, unfiltered need. A look Sanaa began to crave ever since she rode his dick. Those lips parted. His eyes tracking every flicker of pleasure on her face. His locs framing his jaw, giving him a rugged look. Then he sank his teeth into his lower lip. 

The friction between them is pushed them both to the edge. Their mouths locked in a filthy, wet collision, tongues tangling and fighting for dominance as they kiss like freaks, swapping saliva and breath in a frantic battle. Every slide of their bodies, every press of cloth against cloth, only heightens the agony of the barrier between them.

Sanaa breaks the kiss just a fraction, her lips still brushing against his, her breath hitching. “Please...Killmonger," she whispers, her voice a broken, needy wreck. “Make me cum. Please make my pussy cum.”

Erik answers with force. His large, calloused hands snap shut around her hips, fingers digging into her skin to still her frantic movements. He takes total control, repositioning his weight to align his thick, stiff dick perfectly against her clit. He gives one heavy, punishing grind, the sheer size of his dick pressing through the fabric and crushing into her sensitive nub. The way his biceps flexed and his thick forearms corded with veins maneuvered and controlled Sanaa’s little frame over his dick made her feel small and fragile. She had no choice but to give in, bracing herself on his shoulders. 

Sanaa lets out a muffled cry, her face buried against his neck while he palms her ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh tight and forcing her to grind down hard against him. He’s not letting her just ride the wave, he’s driving her into it. He forces her hips to rotate, ensuring every inch of his length rubs against her, the friction creating a searing heat that makes her vision blur.

“That's it, lil’ freak bitch.” Erik groans, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as she buries her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. “I’m a drag this pussy all on my dick…give you what you need…spread your legs…nah…spread ‘em…”

As he continues to grind her into him, Erik feels the pressure building in his gut, that familiar, lethal tension that signals the end. He’s too far gone, his own pleasure spiking into something aggressive and overwhelming. He leans in, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against her ear, telling her exactly what's happening.

“I’m ‘bout to bust, Sanaa. I’m right there,” he pants, his breath hot and ragged. “You makin’ me lose it. I’m ‘bout to nut all in these shorts...soak through everything just for you.” 

The verbal confirmation is the final trigger. Sanaa’s walls tighten, her pussy clenching violently as a massive, shaking orgasm rips through her. She collapses against him, her body vibrating in his lap, her moans turning into breathless whimpers as she peaks.

“Damn, girl—fuuck—”

The sight and feel of her cumming sends Erik over the cliff. He erupts. The orgasm is a violent, pulsing explosion that rocks his entire frame. As the first thick jet of cum slams into the fabric of his shorts, the intensity is so sharp, so overwhelming, that he instinctively snaps his jaw shut, biting down on the meat of her shoulder to stifle the guttural roar that threatens to tear from his throat.

He holds her there, pinned and shaking, his dick twitching against her as he pumps load after load of hot, sticky cum into his shorts, the fabric becoming heavy and soaked between them. He stays buried in her neck, teeth still grazing her skin, breathing like a wounded animal while the aftershocks of the nut leave them both completely wrecked.

The friction had been relentless, a grinding war of hips and heat that left them both breathless. For a few seconds, they just breathed, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Then, with a playful, feline smirk, Sanaa slid off him. She didn’t longer, she simply stepped back, the wetness between her legs clinging to her shorts, and started walking away down the hallway. 

Erik blinked, his chest heaving and his eyes tracking the sway of her hips. The sudden lack of her warm, wet pussy left him wired and agitated. 

“Where the fu k you going?” He called out, his voice commanding and laced with a hint of disbelief. 

Sanaa stopped and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes hooded and teasing, a bratty glint in her gaze. “To my room, Erik.” She answered simply, her voice a soft, provocative slur.

Erik stood and walked up on her in that hall. The tension snapped back into place instantly. 

“You got me doing risky shit. I don’t move like this.” Erik whispered, looming over her like the JSOC Ghost he is. 

“I’m a rare soul, Erik. You don’t just enter my life the same. That’s the kinda effect I have.” Sanaa cooed. 

Sanaa leaned against the wall, her gaze dropping to the front of his shorts.

“Let me see,” she whispered, her voice dripping with curiosity. 

Erik reached down, grabbing the waistband of his shorts and pulling them forward. The athletic fabric was drenched, a heavy stain of cum spreading across the inside crotch and clinging to the shape of his dick and the buzz cut of his pubic hair. Despite having just finished, he was still brick hard. A thick, veiny pipe straining against the wet fabric, twitching with a life of its own. 

Sanaa’s breath hitched. The sight of his masculine power, even in the aftermath, sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to her pussy. 

“You do things to my body I can’t even shake,” Sanaa whispered with a soft sigh. 

Erik stepped into her space, his large frame looming over her, erasing the distance. He reached down, his hand sliding firmly down the front of her loose shorts. He didn’t tease, he pressed his palm flat against her pussy, rubbing her soaked folds and teasing her clit. He withdrew his hand, fingers glistening and dripping with her cream. Without breaking eye contact, Erik brought his fingers to his lips, slowly sucking the mess off them, his tongue swirling around his fingers so filthy. 

Sanaa whimpered, her legs turning to jelly. 

Erik leaned in, crashing his lips onto hers in a kiss that tasted like her pussy. His tongue invaded her mouth with the same aggression he used in every other part of their dynamic. 

Suddenly, the sound of loud laughter at the door to Aaliyah’s room broke them apart instantly, the spell shattered by the threat of discovery. Erik’s eyes darkened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, but his instincts kicked in. He stepped back, glancing toward the bathroom. 

Go in your room.” He commanded in a low, urgent whisper. 

Sanaa slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her. Erik vanished into the bathroom, leaving the hallway empty just as the door to Aaliyah’s room swung open.

______

Aaliyah’s room was a scene of girly chaos. They’d set up a makeshift hairdresser. Hair serum, edge control, moose, brushes, and Bobby pins. It also gave the cluttered energy of a college dorm. Aaliyah was draped in an oversized Howard University sweatshirt that swallows her frame, paired with tiny sleep shorts and thick, fuzzy socks that keep her toes warm. She’s sitting on the floor between Naima’s legs, watching Dream Girls on her iPad while played in the background. Naima was focused and meticulous, wearing a pair of loose pajama pants and a tight baby tee. Her fingers are nimble, weaving and Styling Aaliyah’s hair into a sleek low bun for their night out tomorrow. 

The door creaks open and Sanaa slips in, radiating a fresh, clean scent. She needed another shower after cumming all in her shorts. Her skin is glowy and damp. She’s swallowed up by an oversized Mindless Behavior T-shirt that hits mid-thigh, her wilds curls gathered and held in place by a bright, hot pink claw clip. Her turquoise tortoise shell glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose, and her bare feet pad softly across the floor. She drops in the center of the room, crossing her arms and tilting her head with a look of playful suspicion. 

“What ya’ll plotting in here?” She asks, her voice teasing as if she knows there’s some secret being kept. 

Aaliyah laughs, glancing back at her in the mirror. “Girl, please. Naima is just trying to make sure I don’t look like a mess tomorrow. Come sit your ass down.”

Sanaa chuckles and drops onto the edge of the bed, kicking her feet back. The three of them settle into comfortable conversation, drifting through the usual chaos of campus drama—who was seen with who at the library, which professor is failing half the class, and the latest tea from the sorority row. The vibe is relaxed. That only comes with close friends.

Suddenly, the playlist on the speaker goes from soulful to ratchet. The heavy, distorted bass of “WAP” by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion kicks in, filling the room with its aggressive, explicit energy. Aaliyah doesn’t miss a beat. She starts rapping along, her voice getting louder and more confident as the lyrics get filthier. She’s leaning into it, using her hands to emphasize the lines about wet ass pussy and doing kegels while it’s inside, her energy matching the song’s unapologetic sexuality. Then a dance breaks out. And it’s nothing but ass shaking. Aaliyah on her knees popping booty while Naima stands with a brush in her hand and her tongue poked out, bending over to shake her little cheeks. 

Sanaa, seeing the opportunity for future blackmail, quietly pulls out her phone. She keeps it low, angled just right to capture Aaliyah’s passionate performance, a smirk playing on her lips as she records the whole thing.

As the song fades out, Naima looks over, noticing the phone in Sanaa's hand. “Wait, did you get that? Let me see!”

Sanaa, still riding the high of the song and not thinking twice, hands it over to Naima. Naima starts scrolling through the camera roll to find the video, but her thumb freezes. Her eyes widen, and she stops dead in her tracks. She ain’t looking at a video of Aaliyah rapping. 

On the screen is a crystal-clear, explicit video of Sanaa on her knees, her eyes staring up into the camera as she greedily sucks a thick, hard dick, her cheeks hollowing as she takes as much of the shaft as she can handle. Then there’s the voice of the man that carries all that dick coaching her in the back. 

Naima’s jaw drops, and she snaps her head up to look at Sanaa, her voice exploding in a mix of shock and hilarity.

“BITCH!” Naima screams, holding the phone up like a piece of evidence. “You got a video of you sucking dick in your phone?! You nasty bitch!”

 “WAP” suddenly didn’t matter anymore.

Naima is frozen, her eyes glued to the screen of Sanaa’s phone. On the display, the image is raw and unmistakable. Sanaa, her head tilted back, her eyes blinking in a trance of pure pleasure, her mouth stretched wide as she greedily takes a massive, vein-riven dick into her throat. The video captures the wet, sucking sound of her lips gliding over a spit-covered dick and the way her cheeks hollow out as she sucks the thick beast. 

Sanaa’s heart hammers against her ribs like a trapped bird. A cold spike of adrenaline shoots through her veins, turning her blood to ice. For a split second, she forgets where she is, her mind flashing back to the way Erik stretched her mouth for the first time. The panic hits her instantly—a visceral, choking wave. If Aaliyah sees this, it’s not just about the act; it’s about who it is. 

Sanaa lunges. It’s a blur of motion, the oversized Mindless Behavior shirt fluttering around her thighs as she dives across the bed. Her fingers scramble, clawing at Naima’s grip, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. 

“Give it back! Naima, give me my damn phone!” Sanaa hisses, her voice strained and bordering on a plea. She isn’t playing anymore; the playful suspicion from earlier is replaced by a genuine, wide-eyed terror. She can’t let Aaliyah see.  

Naima, caught up in the shock and the thrill of the find, holds the phone just out of reach, gawking at the screen one last time. She’s mesmerized by the filth of it, the raw sexuality of her friend being completely undone by a man’s dick. 

But Sanaa is faster. With a desperate swipe, she manages to snatch the device from Naima’s hand, clutching it to her chest as if it were a lifeline. She pulls back, her chest heaving, her turquoise glasses sliding slightly down her nose.

Aaliyah is sitting still on the floor, her expression unreadable. She didn’t seen the video, but she saw the reaction. She saw the panic in Sanaa’s eyes. A look that didn’t match the confidence Sanaa usually wore like armor. Aaliyah slowly turns her head, her gaze locking onto Sanaa.

“So…” Aaliyah starts, her voice low and calculating. “Nathan was over here then?”

There is a suspicion in Aaliyah’s eyes, a silent realization that there is a side to Sanaa’s life that is far more secretive and intense than a fintech worker from Bowie could ever provide. Sanaa doesn’t respond. She can’t. Her throat feels tight, her mind racing. She just stands there, the phone still pressed against her heart, the secret of Erik Killmonger burning a hole through the screen.

Naima, sensing the tension shifting from hilarity to something more serious, rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively. She leans back, trying to break the spell.

“Girl, please,”Naima says, glancing at Aaliyah. “It’s just a little dick sucking. Since when did we become the morality police? How many times have we exchanged photos asking if our nudes were sexy enough to send? We all get it in. Sanaa just happened to record the evidence.”

Naima laughs, trying to bring the vibe back to the casual, sisterly bond they shared minutes ago. Sanaa slowly exhales, but she doesn’t let go of the phone. 

Aaliyah giggles, the tension from a moment ago dissolving back into the easy, chaotic energy. She shakes her head, a playful smirk dancing on her lips as she watches Sanaa clutch the device. “You hanging on to that phone for dear life, girl,” Aaliyah jokes, her voice light but still carrying a hint of curiosity. “Is Nathan’s dick that big, sis?”

Naima bursts out laughing, the sound loud and unfiltered, and Aaliyah joins in, the two of them sharing a moment of sisterly mockery. 

Sanaa feels the adrenaline finally begin to recede, though her heart is still drumming a frantic beat against her ribs. She knows she’s walked a razor's edge, but she’s a master of the pivot. She lets out a forced but convincing laugh, leaning back and finally loosening her grip on the phone, though she keeps it firmly tucked away.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Sanaa quips, her voice regaining that bratty, confident edge.

Aaliyah’s eyes widen, her jaw nearly dropping. “SINCE WHEN?” she exclaims, leaning forward. “Since when did you become the vault? Give us the tea!”

Naima, ever the instigator and still buzzing from the visual she just witnessed on the screen, clears her throat loudly. She looks at Aaliyah with a look of pure revelation. “Well, if you must know, Liyah...the dick Sanaa was sucking is fucking HUGE—”

“Girl, hush!” Sanaa cuts her off sharply, her voice a mix of a laugh and a command. She can’t let Naima describe the sheer, vein-riven scale of Erik’s dick to his sister! No. No, no, no, no way. Quick as a flash, Sanaa scans the room for a distraction, her eyes landing on the nightstand. A mischievous glint enters her eyes as she spots a familiar shape and the crisp, fresh look of the bedding.

“Can we change the subject?” Sanaa asks, her tone shifting to one of playful accusation. “Like, why is your rose vibrator just sitting out in the open? And why the hell do I see brand new bed sheets?”

The room goes dead silent. The laughter vanishes instantly, replaced by a heavy, awkward stillness. Naima and Aaliyah freeze, exchanging a wide-eyed, look that speaks volumes. They don’t say a word, their silence acting as a loud, vibrating confession.

Sanaa looks between the two of them, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. She lets out a loud, knowing laugh, leaning in with a smirk. “It’s no secret y’all been bumping coochies—”

“SHUT UP, BRI!” Naima and Aaliyah scream in perfect unison, their faces flushing a deep shade of red.

The absurdity of the moment breaks the dam, and all three girls collapse into a fit of hysterical laughter, the secret of the video momentarily buried under the weight of the new, scandalous revelation. Sanaa laughs the hardest, feeling the thrill of the diversion, though in the back of her mind, she can still feel the ghost of Erik’s dominance, knowing that while she’s laughing with her friends, she belongs to a man who would ruin her for even thinking about sharing him.

The thoughts that ran through her mind…

“Just let him hit it once…just once…” “I bet he’d talk me through it…say all that nasty shit while I cum on him…” “He probably strokes slow, deep…makes you say thank you when he nut…” “That dick would make me cry…and I’d say thank you for it.” “Please, Erik…please fuck me…”

To actually live in that reality now was an understatement. 

The only thing missing…is “I wonder if he can make me squirt?” 

The sound of footsteps through the hallway immediately made Sanaa’s pulse spike.

Erik stepped into the doorway, filling the frame with his massive presence. He looked effortless but lethal, dressed in a matching grey hoodie and sweats that left the hard, expansive lines of his muscles to your imagination. His locs were tucked neatly beneath the hood, framing a face that looked tired but remained intensely focused. A black duffle bag was slung carelessly over one shoulder, his weight shifted onto one leg, sporting a fresh pair of Jordans.

“Ya’ll eat yet?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in Sanaa's chest. “Cuz I was thinkin’ ‘bout orderin’ in.”

“Yes! We got food already. Some pizza.” Aaliyah said. 

“I just ate that leftover chicken and rice we made earlier in the week.” Sanaa replied. 

“Bet,” Erik’s eyes scanned the room. “You don’t clean up in here at all, do you?” 

Sanaa was frozen, her turquoise glasses sliding slightly down her nose as her eyes dragged over him with hunger. She traced the breadth of his shoulders, the way the grey fabric stretched across his chest, and the sheer size of him compared to the room. She felt a familiar, hot ache bloom between her thighs, her pussy clenching just at the sight of him.

Naima, always the curious one, leaned forward, her eyes scanning the glimpses of rugged skin peeking from his collar. “Erik, what do those scars actually mean? Like, where’d they come from?”

Aaliyah let out a short, knowing laugh, leaning back against her pillows. “Don't bother, Nai. He won’t tell you. He’s too mysterious for his own good.”

Erik’s lips quirked into a sharp, knowing smirk. He didn’t even look at Naima, his gaze was locked onto Sanaa, pinning her in place. “What she said,” he spoke, his voice dripping with a playful, dangerous confidence.

He turned to leave, but he didn’t just walk away. He began backing down the hall, keeping his eyes locked on Sanaa’s. The moment he was far enough that the other girls weren’t focused on him, the energy changed from familial to filthy. 

Erik slowed his pace, his expression darkening. He slowly flicked his tongue over his top lip, a wet motion that told Sanaa exactly what he wanted to do to her. Then, with a slow, calculated movement, he reached down and gripped the hem of his grey hoodie.

He lifted the fabric, pulling it up high enough to reveal the sculpted, rock-hard terrain of his stomach and the deep, V-taper of his hips. The sight of his scarred skin and the power of his core made Sanaa gasp silently. Tucked firmly into the waistband of his sweats was the matte black grip of a pistol, the weapon adding a raw, dangerous edge to his sexuality that sent a shiver of pure arousal straight to her clit.

He held the pose for a heartbeat, letting her soak in the image of his strength and his lethality, before letting the hoodie drop. As he reached the corner of the hall, he didn't say a word. He simply mouthed two words, his eyes burning into hers:

“C’mere.”

Sanaa felt her heart hammering against her ribs. She wanted to bolt from the room, to throw herself onto him and feel that heavy weight pinning her down, but she was trapped between Naima and Aaliyah. 

Trembling, she grabbed her phone and shot him a quick text. 

Sanaa: why you always doing this to me 😩

A second later, she saw him stop. Erik looked at his phone, then looked back at her. He let out a sharp “tsk,” kissing his teeth in a gesture of pure, exaggerated annoyance. He gave her a look—one part disappointed daddy, one part ruthless conqueror—that was so intensely focused on her defiance that it almost made her laugh out loud.

Her phone buzzes.

Erik: Don’t think I ain’t see you come out that shower earlier without a bra. You do that shit on purpose, huh?

She bites her lip.

Sanaa: I’m cold. Maybe you should come warm me up.

Erik: I’d fuck the warmth back into you right now. Two fingers in while I suck on that pretty mouth. You’d try to keep quiet, wouldn’t you?

She exhales slow, adjusts her position.

Sanaa: Wouldn’t last a minute. I get loud for you. You know that.

Erik: That pussy get loud too. Keep talking and I’m a take my phone to the bathroom and beat this dick thinking about how you creamed on me earlier.

Her thighs press together. Her phone buzzes again.

Erik: You dripping right now? Tell me the truth.

Sanaa: Ruined my panties twenty minutes ago. Wanna see?

He shifts in the hallway. Back against the wall. Adjusts his joggers. Keeps a straight face. He didn’t argue. He just gave her one last, lingering look that promised a very heavy price for her disobedience before he disappeared into her room, leaving Sanaa drenched and anxious for the retaliation she knew was coming.

Sanaa lingered in Aaliyah’s room for a while longer. Every time she glanced down the hall, she could still feel the ghost of Erik’s gaze on her, the mental image of that matte black pistol against his skin and the way he’d flicked his tongue over his lip burned into her mind. Her pussy was throbbing, a heavy, insistent ache that made it hard to focus on whatever Naima was saying.

Eventually, the heat became too much to ignore. With a playful excuse about needing to wind down, Sanaa finally slid out of the room. As she walked down the hall, she passed the spot where Erik had stood, imagining the scent of him still clinging to the walls. Oud, clove, and something woodsy. Expensive and dark. He doesn’t spray it heavy but it lingers. On pillows. On shirts. 

Once inside her own room, she shut the door and leaned against it for a second, letting out a shaky breath. She stripped off her T-shirt  with hurried movements, her skin tingling. She slid into her bed, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the feverish warmth of her body. She pulled on her silk bonnet, tucking her curls away, and sprawled out across the mattress.

She lay there in the silence, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing. She could still feel the phantom pressure of his dominance, the way he’d mouthed “C’mere” with that look of absolute ownership. She rolled her hips, rubbing her thighs together, the friction sending a jolt of electricity straight to her clit. She was trapped in a state of agonizing anticipation, knowing that Erik was just a few walls away, likely thinking about exactly how he was going to punish her for saying I can’t.

There was a distinct click of a door closing. It was Aaliyah’s door. 

Sanaa froze, her breath hitching in her throat. The sound signaled that the coast was clear. The barrier between her and Erik had just vanished, and the sudden silence of the apartment felt like a countdown. 

Buzz buzz

Erik: You in your room?

She didn’t reply. Just smirked. Another buzz.

Erik: I’ma slide over

Then a soft knock. Real soft. 

Sanaa tiptoed to the door and cracked it, whispering, “Aaliyah still awake.”

“I know,” Erik said, already stepping in.

He didn’t push the door open hard, just eased through it like a shadow, shutting it with barely a click. The room was dark, save for the TV glow across her bed.

“Why you lookin’ like that?” he asked, eyes dragging over her titties and the peaks of her nipples. Then lower, to those cheeky, red panties that didn’t even pretend to cover her ass.

Sanaa curled her lip. “Like what?”

“Like you wanted me to see all that.”

She walked backward to the bed, slow. “Where you been at with a gun?” she teased.

He followed. “Out.”

“Why you can’t tell me?” Sanaa said with a pout. 

Erik exhaled, “Gun range. This…hidden spot I go to when I’m in town to get a few rounds in.” 

Sanaa smirks. “Can you take me next time?” 

Erik gives her a stern look. “No.” 

Sanaa rolls her eyes. “I been here thinking about how you made me cum in my shorts earlier.” 

“I see that,” he whispered, eyes dropping to her thighs. “You take that big ass T-shirt off ‘cause you knew I was coming over.”

She smirked, pulled one leg onto the bed. “So?”

Erik  just stared at her for a long moment. Then he crossed the room and leaned over her, both palms pressing into the mattress, caging her in. That scent hit her—cologne, leather, and a little sweat. His lips brushed hers. Then deeper. Tongue and spit. His kiss stole the air right out her lungs. A kiss that tasted like he missed her even if he just saw her minutes ago.

Erik pulled back just enough to whisper, “I came to taste somethin’ sweeter than attitude.”

Sanaa bit her lip, thighs squeezing together out of reflex.

“Get up,” he said low.

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Sit on the edge. Bring them knees up.”

The tone in his voice? Left no room for play.

Sanaa did what he said, backing up and sitting on the edge of her bed. She brought her feet up beside her, knees wide open. Those panties pulled tight, then gave way, pussy peeking through and sitting fat.

Erik sucked in a breath. “Damn, mama…”

He dropped to his knees like it was second nature. Big hands gripping her thighs, thumbs spreading her open like he’d done it a hundred times. He curled his fingers into the side of her panties and pulled them to the side. Her pussy lips slipped out with a jiggle. The amount of wet slick that clung to her fat lips and the crotch of her panties? 

Erik didn’t waste a fucking second. 

Sanaa gasped the second his mouth met her. Tongue warm. Wet. Slipping between those folds like he knew exactly where she needed it. Those lips?! 

Oh my Goddddddddddddd

“Oh—shit. Erik…” she whispered, hands gripping her sheets.

He groaned against her, licking deep, slow. Then fast. Then back slow again. That slurp and the smack of his lips filled the room, nasty beneath the TV noise. His hands hooked behind her thighs, holding them wide as he buried his mouth in her. Sucked on her clit until her whole body bucked.

“You hear me?” he growled against her pussy, lips wet with her. “Don’t make a fuckin’ sound.”

Her hand flew up, covering her mouth. She was shaking. Moaning behind her palm. Eyes rolling. Erik was sucking on her pussy like a hungry fucking beast. Sanaa didn’t know what felt so different this time around. But the sucking and licking had her feeling like she was gonna burst. Her stomach fluttered. 

But then it hit.

A tightness that started at the base of her spine. Crawled through her belly. Her thighs trembled.

“Erik—baby—wait—wait.”

“Nope,” he grunted, licking harder, faster. Sucking. 

She tried to close her legs. He shoved them back open.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, voice deep and ragged. “Let it go.”

Her stomach seized. Eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth opened in a silent cry behind her fingers as it happened. 

A rush. Warm and wet. A sudden gush that poured out of her, all over his mouth. Her thighs. The edge of the bed.

“Oh my God—” she gasped, embarrassed, stunned.

Erik didn’t stop. He licked her through it, eyes locked on her, tongue curling and dragging and sucking up everything she gave him. He loved that shit. Loved how she fell apart.

Loved how she tried to hold it in.

Sanaa was shaking when he finally slowed down, licking her clean with long, slow strokes. Her panties were ruined. Her bonnet was crooked. Her chest was heaving.

He kissed up the inside of her thigh and looked up, smirking. “Next time, don’t wait up for me,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Just lay here and get ready.”

Her eyes were glassy. Her legs still open.

“And Sanaa?”

“Yeah…?”

“You taste even better when you squirt.”

Erik left her sitting on the edge of the bed stunned.

1:35 A.M.

She couldn’t sleep.

The sheets were still damp at the edge. Her thighs sticky. Her pussy pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own. Every time she moved, she felt the aftershock of its that warm gush, that thick wet mess Erik pulled out of her like it was nothing. Like her body had always been capable of that, but nobody ever took the time to find it. Nobody ever made her feel that good. That open. Now? She wanted it again. Her pussy ached for it. Throbbed hot and twitching like it remembered his tongue and missed it bad. She pressed her hand between her legs, trying to soothe it, but it wasn’t the same. Her fingers weren’t wide enough, strong enough, dirty enough. Her mouth went dry thinking about how Erik looked after. Wet beard, greedy tongue, hands keeping her wide like she belonged to him.

Sanaa bit her lip and grabbed her phone.

Sanaa: You up?

She barely had time to blink before her door eased open.

Erik stepped in shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Heavy-shouldered. Locs loose and swinging with the motion of his body. 

“You text me like that,” he said, voice low and scratchy. “You already know what I’m comin’ in here for.”

She pulled the covers back, heart in her throat. Fresh pair of panties on but still no T-shirt. 

“I been thinkin’ about it,” she admitted, cheeks warm. “What you did to me.”

His eyes dropped between her legs. “You want it again.”

She nodded.

He stepped close, leaned down, lips grazing hers without kissing. “You gon’ stop runnin’ from it this time?”

“I ain’t run.”

He smirked, dimple peeking. “You tried.”

And before she could sass him again, he was pulling her new panties off—slick with fresh arousal—and crawling onto the bed like a man starved. She didn’t even have time to get nervous. To prepare for that feeling as if a pipe was set to burst behind her navel. He laid her flat, bent her knees, and pulled her thighs apart like pages in a book he already knew how to read. Then he started like he never stopped. 

Again.

Tongue warm. Mouth wide. Slurping. Sucking. Spelling his damn name in cursive across her pussy. Sanaa gasped, back arching, fingers smoothing down his keloid-laden arms, eyes focused on the top of his head. His cross chain was cold and tickling her ass from how low he was between her legs. 

Her pussy was soaked. Dripping. He loved that. Erik fucking loved it. 

“Yeah,” he groaned, lapping her up. “You already close, huh?”

She whined. “Erik, please—”

“You don’t need to beg,” he said, voice thick and sweet between licks. “Just don’t run from it this time.”

She tried to breathe. She tried to brace. But the pressure built faster now. Her body recognized it. Started chasing it before she even meant to.

“Ohmygod—Erik—I’m—wait—wait—”

He didn’t wait.

He locked his arms under her thighs, anchored her to his face and ate her like a goddamn meal. His mouth sealed around her clit and sucked. The way he sucked, it felt like he was drawing the liquid from her through a straw.

H-H-How is he d-d-doing that?

That was it.

Her stomach tightened. Her toes curled. And then—

Splash.

Another rush.

Thicker this time. Wetter. Her thighs shook hard as the gush poured out of her, soaking his face, the sheets, everything. She gasped, stunned. Whimpering. But Erik didn’t come up for air. He licked through it, drank it, then started again. And when he started again, he sank two thick fingers in her pussy and curled his finger tips upward. 

Squelchsquelchsquelchsquelch—

Sanaa tried to squirm.

“Stay still.”

“Erik—it’s too much—”

“You gon’ take it ‘til your body stop bein’ scared of how good this feel.”

And he kept going.

She whimpered—biting her pillow this time—pussy throbbing like it was addicted now. That orgasm came quicker, stronger. Another messy release that made her whimper and twitch.

He made her do it.

Again.

And again.

By the time he finally pulled back, Sanaa was breathless. Legs trembling. Sheets drenched. Her mouth open but no words coming out.

Erik kissed her thigh. Smirked. “You mine,” he said, voice hoarse, chin hair and mustache soaked. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna eat this pussy like I do. Especially not that lil’ nigga.” 

She nodded slow, dazed.

And in the back of her mind, she already knew. She’d be texting him tomorrow night.

And the night after that.

Because now she needed it.

That tongue. That grip. That splash.

Erik had turned her out.

Turned her into a squirter.

With nothing but his mouth.

@lizbehave @overzealouszeitgeist @aretasreads @prettypinkprincess29 @palmstreesallday @underated345-blog @4tprincess @dremmmm @xeniaonvenus @mirathebookworm @theogbadbitch @omgffs @sunflowerhelena-vol6 @themindfulwriter16 @blyffe @d1gitalb4rbie @catxo @zunibugsiren @theewealthiestwife @girlmath101 @notniicekay @zion1-ollie @kindofaintrovert @sweettae02 @nova-rae @cdotmvkspaz @ispywithmylileye @plan3tch1ld @championshipshade @charmedthoughts @passionxwrites @cocochannelmoi @raysogroovy @beyoncethsblog @fairysoulja @jaszys-fantasy @loudandobnoxiousxxxx @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @hotebonynearby @alaysiunaadams23 @soulfulbeauty19 @thatoneleox @naiii444 @imqueenmelanin @blaqwidow91 @novaniskye @aliengal @geemamii @christinabae

[midnightmemoirsofher]

Erik & Syn

"Sweet Girls Don’t Stay Sweet" Series

Syn is a virgin, soft-spoken, wide-eyed, and just inexperienced enough to make everything she asks feel innocent. But beneath the sweetness is something far more deliberate. She plays naive, asks questions in that gentle voice, and lets Erik believe he’s guiding her… all while learning faster than she should.

Erik, used to control, takes the role naturally, dominant, steady, always one step ahead. At least, that’s what he thinks. Because the more he “teaches,” the more Syn shifts the dynamic, blurring the line between student and instigator, innocence and intention.

What starts as lessons becomes a game of control, where sweetness is a weapon, naivety is a performance, and even a man like Erik has to realize, too late, that he’s not the only one playing.

Lessons

Still Thinking About It

For Research Purposes 

Valentine’s Lessons

Dinner for Three

Extra CreditThe Meltdown

Don’t Start What You Can’t Finish

No More Games

A Taste of What’s to Come

The Right Time

The Barnacle

Produce Foreplay

The Adult Emporium

[midnightmemoirsofher]

Love your work!!

Could you write a Erik and black oc where they’re roommates and he catches her flicking the bean 🫦

Roommate Roulette

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC (Zoya)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Explicit Sexual Content, Voyeurism, Mutual Voyeurism, Roommates to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Sexual Tension, Reader Discretion Advised

The June heat in Bed-Stuy clung to everything like a second skin—sticky, oppressive, and smelling of asphalt melting under a relentless sun. Inside their third-floor walk-up on Jefferson Avenue, the ancient window unit AC wheezed and rattled, fighting a losing battle against the humidity that made the air feel thick enough to drink.

Erik stood in the narrow kitchen, his bare feet cool against the cracked linoleum as he poured two glasses of iced tea. The ice clinked against the glass, a sharp counterpoint to the muffled bass from a passing car outside. He’d only been in Brooklyn three months, a transplant from Oakland who’d traded West Coast sunshine for East Coast grit, but this apartment already felt more like home than any place he’d lived since leaving the military.

From the living room, Zoya’s laughter erupted, rich and unrestrained, the kind of sound that made strangers turn their heads on the street. Erik leaned against the doorframe, watching as she arranged the game pieces on their coffee table, her movements fluid and confident even in the sweltering heat. She wore cutoff shorts that revealed the smooth, dark expanse of her thighs and a thin tank top that clung to her curves with every subtle shift of her body. Her hair was piled high in a messy bun, loose tendrils escaping to frame her face, glistening with sweat.

“You gonna stand there staring at my ass all day, or you gonna bring me my tea?” Zoya asked without turning around, her voice laced with amusement. She had this sixth sense about him, an awareness of his presence that both intrigued and unsettled Erik.

Erik smirked, pushing off the doorframe. “Just admiring the view before you beat me at Monopoly again and start gloating for the next week.”

Zoya finally turned, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “First of all, it’s not gloating if it’s deserved. Second of all, you’re the one who keeps landing on Boardwalk with my hotels on it. That’s not my fault.”

She accepted the glass from him, her fingers brushing against his. He watched as she brought the glass to her full lips, tilting her head back slightly, her throat working as she swallowed. A bead of condensation traced a path down the glass, mirroring the sweat that trickled between her breasts.

Their friendship had formed quickly after he’d answered her roommate ad on Facebook Marketplace; something about his no-nonsense attitude and her unfiltered humor had clicked immediately. They fell into an easy rhythm of shared meals, Netflix binges, and increasingly competitive board game nights to determine who was stuck with dish duty. The shit-talking was legendary, their pranks escalating in creativity and audacity with each passing month.

But lately, something had changed. Erik found himself watching Zoya when she wasn’t paying attention, the way she bit her lip when concentrating, how her hips swayed when she danced in the kitchen while cooking, the soft sighs she made in her sleep that carried through the thin walls of their apartment. He told himself it was just his military training kicking in, his hyper-observant nature cataloging details about the person he shared space with.

Yet when he caught himself lingering outside her door one night, drawn by the soft sounds of her humming as she got ready for bed, he’d had to admit it was something more. Something that made his chest tighten, and his breath catch in his throat.

“You cheating bastard,” Zoya accused, pulling him from his thoughts. She pointed a finger at the board game box. “I know you stole that Park Place card last week when I went to the bathroom.”

Erik raised his hands in mock surrender. “A soldier never admits defeat, and he certainly doesn’t cheat at board games.”

“Soldier, my ass,” she shot back, though her grin gave away her amusement. “You’re just a sore loser who can’t handle that I’m superior at everything.”

“Everything?” Erik challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Zoya’s eyes darkened slightly, her smile turning knowing. “Everything that matters.”

The air between them thickened with unspoken possibilities, the game pieces forgotten on the coffee table. Erik’s gaze dropped to her mouth, watching as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. His military discipline, usually so ironclad, felt paper-thin in the face of whatever this was developing between them.

“Game on,” he said, his voice lower than before.

Zoya’s answering smile was both a challenge and an invitation. “Game on, nigga.”

As they settled into their usual positions on opposite ends of the couch, Erik couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was different. That the easy friendship they’d cultivated was evolving into something more complex, more dangerous. Something that made him want to push boundaries, to see just how far he could go before one of them broke.

And as Zoya rolled the dice with a triumphant grin, completely unaware of the thoughts running through his mind, Erik made a silent promise to himself: he would stop watching. He would stop lingering outside her door, stop cataloging her every move, stop imagining what it would feel like to touch her.

But even as he made the promise, he knew it was a lie. Because watching Zoya had become his favorite part of the day, and he wasn’t nearly strong enough to give it up.

The Monopoly board between them was a battlefield of colorful currency and plastic monuments, a testament to three hours of escalating warfare. Empty bottles of Corona sat like fallen soldiers, their lime wedges shriveled and brown at the bottom of the glasses. The air in the living room had grown thick with the scent of warm beer and the sweet, cloying smell of Zoya's strawberry vape, which she puffed on between turns with intentional provocative slowness.

“Look at you,” Zoya taunted, leaning forward to stack her money. The movement caused the thin fabric of her tank top to pull taut across her breasts, and Erik’s eyes tracked the curve before he could stop himself. “All that military strategy and you’re still getting your ass handed to you by a girl from the Bronx.”

Erik snorted, reaching for his beer. “First of all, you’re not just ‘a girl from the Bronx.’ You’re a fucking capitalist tyrant in training. Second of all, the night ain’t over.” He took a long swallow, the cold liquid doing nothing to quell the heat building in his gut. It wasn't just the alcohol; it was her. It was always her.

Zoya rolled her eyes, a playful smirk dancing on her lips as she took another drag from her vape. The vapor curled around her face like a halo before dissipating. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game. And don’t be salty just ‘cause I own every single property on this board that actually matters.” She gestured with a dismissive wave of her hand, her bracelets clinking together.

He watched, mesmerized, as she absentmindedly twirled a stray strand of her hair around her index finger. It was a nervous habit she had, one he’d cataloged weeks ago. But tonight, in the golden glow of their thrift-store floor lamp, the simple gesture seemed impossibly intimate. He imagined what it would feel like to have those fingers, that hair, tangled in his own.

“Your turn, Navy man,” she said, her voice softer now, the sharp edges of teasing blunted by the tequila they’d switched to an hour ago. She was tipsy, her usual vibrant energy mellowed into something warmer, more pliable. Her guard was down, and Erik found himself leaning into the space she’d inadvertently created.

He forced his attention back to the board, his token—the little top hat—landing ignominiously on yet another of her properties. “Boardwalk. With a hotel. Of course.” He tossed the dice onto the table, the clatter unnaturally loud in the quiet room. “You rigged this shit. I know you did.”

Zoya’s laughter was a low, throaty rumble that vibrated through the floorboards and up Erik’s spine. “I ain’t have to rig nothing. You just suck at this game.” She leaned back against the couch cushions, her body arching slightly, and Erik’s mouth went dry. She stretched her arms above her head, a lazy, cat-like movement that made her tank top ride up, exposing a slice of soft, mocha skin just above the waistband of her shorts. He saw the faint stretch marks there, silvery lines that mapped stories he suddenly found himself desperate to read.

“You’re staring again,” she murmured, her eyes half-lidded as she lowered her arms. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded… pleased.

Erik felt a flush creep up his neck. “Just admiring your victory dance,” he recovered, his voice rougher than he intended. “Must be nice.”

“Oh, it is.” She took another sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving his over the rim of her glass. The air crackled between them, the unspoken thing that had been simmering for months now bubbling just beneath the surface. The playful shit-talking had evaporated, replaced by a charged silence that felt both dangerous and inevitable.

He paid out his last remaining bills, the colorful Monopoly money feeling like pathetic confetti in his hands. “That’s it. I’m broke. You win, you capitalist vulture.”

Zoya whooped, a sound of triumph. She shot to her feet, doing a little victory dance that involved a lot of hip-rolling and hand-waving. It was ridiculous and captivating. “That means dishes for a week!” she sang, pointing a finger at him. “And you’re buying pizza on Friday. And I get to pick the movie.”

Erik just watched her, a slow smile spreading across his face. He didn’t care about the damn dishes. He didn’t care about the pizza or the movie. All he could see was the way the lamplight caught the moisture on her lips, the joyful flush on her cheeks, the unbridled joy in her eyes. He was completely caught, and he knew it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, standing up. His own movements felt stiff. “Dishes. Whatever.” He started gathering the empty bottles and glasses, his hands brushing against hers as she helped. The contact was electric, which shot straight up his arm.

“Erik?” Zoya’s voice was quiet, close. He turned to find her right behind him, looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Her earlier boisterousness had vanished, replaced by something softer, more questioning.

“Yeah?” he breathed, his heart hammering against his ribs.

She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. A small, almost shy smile touched her lips. “Nothing. Just… good game.”

She turned and walked toward her room, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room surrounded by the debris of their game night. He listened to the soft pad of her footsteps, the click of her door closing. The apartment fell silent, save for the relentless hum of the air conditioner.

Erik stood there for a long moment, the empty bottles in his hands, the scent of her strawberry vape still hanging in the air. He knew he should go to the kitchen, start the mountain of dishes he’d earned. But his feet felt rooted to the spot. All he could think about was the look in her eyes just now, the way she’d said his name. He was completely distracted, too caught up in the memory of her to remember he was supposed to be on dish duty.

Zoya closed her bedroom door, the click of the latch sounding final in the sudden quiet. She didn’t turn on the main light, instead letting the soft glow from her salt lamp cast warm, pinkish shadows across the room. She leaned against the door for a moment, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The air in here felt different, charged with the energy that had been building between them all night.

She knew Erik was still out there, probably gathering the bottles and glasses. She knew he’d linger in the living room for a bit, and then, inevitably, he’d find an excuse to walk down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. And he’d pause by her door. He always did.

Zoya had known for weeks. At first, she’d thought she was imagining things, a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision as she drifted off to sleep. But then it became a pattern. The soft creak of the floorboards just outside her room, the subtle shift in the air pressure as the hallway light was blocked for a moment. She’d started leaving her door slightly ajar, just a sliver, testing a theory.

She’d lie there, in the dark, her eyes barely open, just low enough to create the illusion of deep sleep. And she’d watch him. A tall, silent silhouette against the faint light from the living room. He never stayed long, just a minute or two, watching her breathe. She’d wondered what he was thinking, what he saw when he looked at her sleeping form. The thought sent a shiver through her, a mix of vulnerability and a thrilling, forbidden power.

Her fascination had become mutual. She’d started watching him, too. It began innocently enough, needing to borrow a charger, forgetting to tell him something before she left for work. But then she’d gotten bolder. She’d timed her movements, learning his schedule. She knew he took long, hot showers after his workouts, the steam billowing out from under the bathroom door that connected directly to his bedroom.

One afternoon, she’d crept down the hall when she knew he was in the shower. The door to his room was unlocked. She’d slipped inside, her heart pounding, the air thick with the scent of his soap and something uniquely him. And through the cracked bathroom door, she’d seen him.

The image was seared into her memory. Water cascading over the sculpted planes of his back, the powerful muscles of his shoulders and arms flexing as he ran his hands over his fade. He’d turned, and she’d seen his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the powerful thighs. And then, everything else. He was magnificent, a perfect specimen of a man, and the raw, unguarded sight of him had made her mouth go dry and a heat pool low in her belly.

Since that day, he was all she could think about when she was alone in her bed at night. Her hands would drift down her body, her eyes closed as she replayed the image of him, imagining what it would feel like to have those hands, that mouth, all of him, focused entirely on her.

And now, tonight, the game was over. The pretense felt flimsy, ready to shatter. She could hear him moving in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, the running of the faucet. She gave him ten minutes, long enough to get started but not long enough to get too invested in the chore. Then, she made her move.

Zoya slipped out of her shorts and tank top, pulling on a thin, oversized t-shirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs. She didn’t bother with panties. She lay back on her bed, the cool sheets a contrast to the heat of her skin. She closed her eyes, her breathing slow and even, and waited.

It didn’t take long. The familiar soft creak of the floorboards. The subtle shift in the light. He was there.

The dishes could wait. Erik stood at the sink, the water running over his hands, but his mind was miles away, down the short hallway and behind that slightly ajar bedroom door. He’d only meant to pass by, to grab a dishtowel from the linen closet at the end of the hall. But then he’d heard it. A soft, breathy sound, barely audible over the rattle of the air conditioner. Not a cry of distress. Something else entirely.

His feet moved of their own accord, silent on the old floorboards. He told himself to stop, to turn back to the kitchen, to finish his goddamn chores. But his discipline that governed every other aspect of his life had evaporated, replaced by a raw, primal curiosity. He paused, his body hidden in the shadows of the hallway, and peered through the sliver of open space.

The sight hit him like a physical blow. Zoya was on her bed, bathed in the warm, reddish glow of that damn salt lamp she loved. She wore one of his old t-shirts, the fabric bunched up around her waist, leaving her completely exposed from the hips down. Her legs were slightly parted, one knee bent, and her eyes were closed, her head thrown back against the pillows.

Shock, hot and immediate, jolted through him. This was Zoya. His roommate. His friend. The woman who stole his Monopoly money and left her wet towels on his bathroom floor because she swore his water got hotter than the water in the main bathroom. He should back away. He should cough, or knock, or do something to announce his presence and give her the privacy he was so flagrantly violating.

But he couldn't move. He was frozen, captivated, as her hand began to move. It drifted down her stomach, her fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path over the soft skin of her belly. He watched, mesmerized, as she slid lower, through the neat curls of her pubic hair. He heard a soft gasp escape her lips, and the sound went straight to his dick.

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Every fiber of his being, every lesson in honor and respect he’d ever learned, screamed at him to leave. But his feet were nailed to the floor. His eyes were locked on her, on the intimate scene unfolding just feet away from him.

Her fingers began to move, slow circles at first. Erik’s Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. He could see everything. The soft pink of her folds, glistening in the dim light as she grew wetter. He watched as her other hand joined the first, using her fingers to hold herself open, giving him an unobstructed view of the most private part of her. It was a deliberate act, a silent invitation that made his head spin.

Her confidence started showing out. Every roll of her hips got slower, dirtier, like she knew exactly what she was doing. The room felt thick with it. A soft moan slipped from her lips, then another one, louder this time, making something low and dangerous twist in Erik’s gut.

“Fuck…”

His jaw tightened. He was hard as a motherfucker. The pressure behind his jeans was damn near distracting, throbbing with every sound she made. He shifted his stance, trying to ease some of the ache, but it didn’t do shit. If anything, it made it worse. His hand dropped instinctively, gripping at himself through the denim, cursing under his breath. This was a bad idea. He knew it. Knew he should’ve walked away the second he realized what was happening.

But he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop listening. Couldn’t stop imagining.

Every nerve in his body felt lit up, tension winding tighter and tighter inside him until he thought he might snap. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too hot, the distance between him and that room feeling both miles long and nowhere near long enough. Erik dragged a hand down his face.

“Goddamn, Zoya…” he muttered, his voice rough as gravel.

And still, he stayed exactly where he was. Watching. Stuck. Like a nigga who’d forgotten how to leave.

Shit. He was straight up a Peeping Tom now, some creep-ass nigga hiding in the dark while the woman he couldn't stop thinking about touched herself just a few feet away. He made himself a promise, right there in the shadows. This was it. Last time. Tonight was the night he'd cut this shit out. He'd go back to his room, lock the fucking door, and never pull this stunt again.

Then she slid a finger inside herself.

And just like that, his whole world went fucking tunnel vision. All he could see was that finger disappearing into her slick, wet heat, then sliding back out, shining with her juices. She added another one, her back arching off the bed as she started fucking herself for real. Her breaths turned into ragged-ass pants, her movements getting faster, more desperate. The only sound in his ears was the wet, sloppy noise of her fingers pumping in and out of her pussy.

He was completely gone. Hypnotized. His mind was running wild, picturing what it would feel like to be buried in her instead of her own damn fingers, to feel her walls clamping down on him when she came. He could almost taste her on his tongue, could smell the sweet scent of her pussy filling his head, making his dick throb so hard he thought he might bust a nut right there in his jeans.

He could see she was close. Her body was tense, from a pleasure waiting to be released. Her fingers moved faster, her thumb circling her clit as she pumped herself. Her moans were constant now, a desperate, beautiful music that made his own body ache with need.

Just as he thought she was about to tip over the edge, she stopped.

Her movements stilled, her body frozen in mid-arch. For a heart-stopping moment, she lay there, panting. Then, slowly, she turned her head.

Her eyes, dark and knowing, found his through the darkness of the hallway. She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t angry. She looked… triumphant.

A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. She held his gaze, her hand still resting between her legs, and spoke, her voice husky with desire and thick with challenge.

“You gonna stand there watching all night,” she asked, “or are you gonna come eat?”

The words just hung there, a challenge dripping from her lips. For a hot second, Erik didn't move, still stuck in the shadows of the hallway. His heart was beating like a damn drum against his ribs, some primal shit telling him to go, to take. But that other part of him, the part that was all about watching and waiting, held him back. He wanted to see her lose it. He wanted to see the exact moment she broke, right before he ever laid a finger on her.

Slowly, he pushed off the doorframe and stepped into her room. His eyes never left hers. The dim light cut across his face, showing the raw hunger in his gaze.

"I ain't done watching yet," he said, his voice a low, rough growl that made Zoya's whole body vibrate.

A slow, wicked grin spread across her lips. She got it. This wasn't just about him wanting to fuck her; this was about him owning the moment, about seeing it all go down before he got in the game. That was Erik, always a nigga who had to be in charge, even when he was just watching.

She watched him cross the room, but he didn't go to the bed. He went to that beat-up armchair in the corner, the one usually buried under a mountain of her clothes. He calmly pushed the laundry onto the floor and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He looked relaxed, but his whole body was tight. He didn't make a move to take his clothes off, to get closer. He just sat. And he watched.

The power switched up. Zoya wasn't just putting on a show anymore; she was running this shit. And she was gonna give him a performance he'd never forget.

Her eyes locked on his as her hand went back to work. Her moves were slower now, more on purpose. She wasn't just trying to cum; she was showing him how it was done. She spread her legs wider for him to see everything. Her fingers slid through her slick folds, getting wet before she started circling her clit again.

"You like what you see, E?" she breathed, her voice a soft tease.

He didn't answer with words. His eyes dropped to where her hand was moving, and his own hand came down to rest on the hard bulge pushing against his jeans. He didn't try to hide it. He palmed his dick, the thick shape of it clear through the denim. The sight of him touching himself while he watched her sent a fresh wave of heat straight through Zoya's body.

Her fingers moved faster, her hips starting to rock again. She kept her eyes on him, watching the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest moved up and down with his heavy breathing. The room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of her fingers and their shared, ragged breaths.

"You like watching me touch myself?" she asked, her voice breaking on a moan. "You like knowing I was thinking about you all those nights you were standing outside my door?"

Erik's hand tightened on his dick, a low groan rumbling in his chest. He was completely lost, all that control burned away by the sight of her. All that holding back was gone, leaving nothing but raw, fucking need.

Zoya could feel her orgasm building again, stronger this time, powered by his intense stare. She slid two fingers back inside herself, pumping them in and out to the rhythm of her own heart. Her thumb pressed against her clit, sending shocks of pleasure through her whole body.

“Fuck, Zoya,” he rasped, sounding like the words got dragged straight outta his chest. His eyes stayed locked on her, dark and heavy, like he was trying to memorize every second of her.

That was all it took. The way he was looking at her. The way he said her name. The way every ounce of his attention was fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

“Shit—”

The curse broke from her lips before she could stop it. Her head fell back, her body going taut as the feeling crashed through her. It hit hard, rolling through her in wave after wave until she couldn’t do nothing but ride it out. Her whole body trembled, legs shaking, chest heaving as she gasped for air.

For a few seconds, everything else disappeared. The room. The apartment. The city outside. All of it. There was only the rush tearing through her and the man sitting across from her watching like he’d been starving for the sight.

When it finally started to ease, she dropped back against the pillows, breathing hard, trying to pull herself together while Erik’s gaze never left her for a single damn second.

Through it all, she kept her eyes on Erik, watching as he palmed himself. He didn't look away, not for a second, his gaze locked on the sight of her falling apart, just for him.

The room felt heavy as hell after that. Thick with heat, tension, and all the shit neither one of them had been saying for months. Zoya was stretched across the bed, still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling while she stared at him. Not shy. Not embarrassed.

Waiting.

Erik pushed himself up from the chair slowly, like he wasn't in a rush, even though every muscle in his body was tight with need. The scrape of denim sounded loud in the quiet room. He reached behind his neck, grabbed his shirt, and peeled it off in one smooth motion.

"Damn," Zoya breathed.

The sight of him would've made anybody stop and stare.

Dark skin stretched over hard muscle. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. Deep scars cut across his chest like old stories he never bothered explaining. He looked dangerous standing there. Like trouble wrapped in flesh.

And he knew it. His eyes never left hers as he crossed the room. Slow. Like a predator that already knew the hunt was over. He stopped at the edge of the bed. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. Zoya spread her legs wider. The look that flashed across Erik's face nearly made her shiver. His hands slid over her thighs, rough palms gripping firmly.

"Been driving me fucking crazy," he muttered. His voice was low. The kind of voice that settled right between a woman's legs. For a second, he just looked at her. Taking his time. Studying her. Like he'd spent months imagining this exact moment, and now that he finally had it, he wasn't about to rush.

"Look at you," he said, shaking his head. "Got me out here acting stupid."

Zoya laughed softly.

"Nigga, you been acting stupid."

"Yeah?"

"Standing outside my door."

A grin tugged at his mouth.

"Maybe."

"Maybe my ass."

His laugh rumbled deep in his chest. The tension cracked for a second. Then his eyes dropped again. And the room got hot all over. Real hot. The kind of heat that made it hard to think straight. Hard to remember why either one of them had spent months pretending there wasn't something between them.

Erik looked back up. Their eyes locked. Neither looked away. Not this time. Not anymore. The game was over. And both of them knew it.

He lowered his head, and for a moment, he just looked. His gaze was intense, focused, like he was studying every fucking detail of her. Then he leaned in and inhaled deeply, a low sound rumbling in his chest.

"Smell so fucking good," he muttered, his voice muffled against her skin.

And then he feasted.

There was no slow build-up, no gentle teasing. Erik went straight for the kill like he was storming a goddamn beach. His tongue flattened against her, a wide, wet stroke that split her folds open and sent a violent jolt of electricity straight up her spine. He groaned as he tasted her, a deep, guttural sound of pure fucking satisfaction, like a man who’d been crawling through the desert for days and just found an oasis. He wasn't just tasting her; he was drinking her in, his whole body tensing with the sheer, overwhelming flavor of her. It was filthy, it was the kind of wet, messy, desperate shit that made your toes curl, and your eyes roll back in your head.

"Fuck," Zoya gasped, her hands flying to his head as she began riding his face. "Erik..."

He didn't answer. He just ate. His tongue was a fucking weapon, a blade of pure muscle and heat, and he wielded that shit like he was born to do it. He licked her from the dripping, hungry mouth of her entrance all the way up to the hard, pulsing knot of her clit, his movements so sure, so confident, it was like he'd mapped this territory in his goddamn dreams. He wasn't just tasting her; he was devouring her, consuming her like she was the last meal on death row and he was a man making peace with his god. He ate like her pussy was the only thing that could save him, his mouth a wet, filthy paradise, his groans a bassline to the nasty symphony he was conducting between her legs.

He wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, hard. Zoya's legs shot out, locking around his head in a vice-like grip, pulling him impossibly deeper. A sharp cry tore from her throat as her thighs clamped down on his ears, muffling the sound. It was too much, too intense, a pleasure that bordered on pain, but she didn't want him to stop. She wanted more. She wanted to drown in it. Her heels dug into his back, a silent, desperate command to never, ever let go.

"Right there, E, right there," she panted, her hips grinding against his face. "Don't you fucking stop."

Erik answered her with a growl, a deep, resonant vibration that bloomed from her clit and spread through her entire being like a shockwave, constellations bursting behind her closed eyelids. But he denied her the thickness of his fingers. Instead, he withdrew his mouth just enough to whisper against her slick, swollen flesh, "Nah. Wanna taste all of you."

Then his tongue became the instrument of her undoing.

It was a slow invasion at first. He pressed the firm, slick muscle against her entrance, a teasing promise before he pushed inside, a deep, languid stroke that filled her in a way that was both intimate and shockingly raw. He set a rhythm, a sensual, unhurried tempo that was the opposite of frantic. It was a deep, worshipful fucking, his tongue curling and stroking her inner walls, exploring every sensitive ridge of her very essence. Her breath hitched, her body arching into the exquisite, filling pressure.

Just as she began to crest that first gentle wave, he retreated. Before she could mourn the loss, his mouth was back on her clit, this time with a soft, suctioning pull that was less about force and more about devotion. He drew the sensitive pearl between his lips, his tongue lavishing it with slow, lazy circles that were somehow more devastating than the frantic pace before. The pleasure was different now, deeper, richer, a slow burn instead of a flash fire.

He repeated the cycle, again and again. He would feast on her with deep, tongue-fucking thrusts that built her tension to a breaking point, only to withdraw and worship her clit with a patient, licking adoration that soothed and tormented in equal measure. It was a beautiful dance, a sensual push and pull that drove her to the brink of madness and then cradled her there. He was no longer just eating her; he was speaking a language with his mouth, a dialect of pure sensation, and he was telling her everything he'd never said out loud.

The room was filled with the filthy, wet sounds of him eating her pussy, the sounds of her moans and his groans, the sounds of their shared, desperate need. 

He was a sniper, and her clit was his target. Every flick of his tongue was precise, calculated to drive her closer and closer to the edge. He watched her face, his dark eyes intense and focused, reading her every reaction, adjusting his technique to push her higher and higher.

"You gonna cum for me, Zoya?" he demanded, his voice a low, rough command against her skin. "You gonna soak my fucking face?"

The combination of his filthy mouth and his expert technique sent her hurtling over the edge. Her orgasm crashed over her, harder and more intense than the first. It was the dual assault, the relentless, deep fucking of his tongue, and the friction of his neatly trimmed beard against the hypersensitive skin of her inner thighs and folds. That coarse, masculine scrape was a brand of pleasure all its own, a rough counterpoint to the slick, demanding muscle of his mouth that pushes her over the edge. Her entire body convulsed. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, a messy pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure leaked out of her, each one more intense than the last. She cried out his name, the sound breaking, ragged and raw, as she rode out the intense, mind-blowing release.

Erik didn't stop. He kept licking, kept sucking, drawing out her orgasm until she was a trembling, whimpering mess. He lapped up every drop of her cum, his tongue cleaning her pussy with a devotion that was both tender and possessive.

When she finally collapsed back against the pillows, her body limp and spent, Erik lifted his head. His face was glistening with her wetness, his lips swollen and red. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and filled with a satisfaction that was both terrifying and incredibly sexy.

@blyffe @transparentphantomface @mwahkae  @championshipshade @christinabae @og-goddesstrill @writingsbytee @jeandoll@bananajoeclone @psychicafrorainbow @blowmymbackout @storiesbyasl  @bananajoeclone @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @nayys-world @monstaxmomma0 @kimmiedream @hotebonynearby @underated345-blog @xeniaonvenus @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kindofaintrovert @mmbee675 @bestleowoman2exist

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Say My Name

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 Three

Erik stepped through the door closed behind him. A strange stillness wrapped around him. 

That quiet little thing with the sharp eyes and pretty mouth who wrapped her arms around his neck and put her feet in his lap like she didn’t know what her scent and softness did to him. Or maybe she did. She’s got this way about her. Like she don’t feel his stare heating her retreating body every time she walked off. Eyes dragging from the back of her head down to her feet. Erik exhaled, fingers kneading against the tension in his neck. He was standing near the edge of his bed, about to climb in when he paused. His head tilted just so towards the source. 

Something caught his ear. Something faint.  A breath. A moan. A sound not meant for him to hear. He froze. Straightened. Turned towards the wall that sat between his room and hers. The sound came again. It was a soft whimper. Wet. And a sound like that would only come from a girl with her thighs wide open and her fingers deep. 

Then, he heard it. His fucking name. Moaned.  His name.

“Erik…”

Low and sticky. Right in the middle of a breath. Like it’d slipped out of her and she couldn’t help it. Erik went completely still. Dangerously still. His body locked, shoulders tightened, one hand pressing flat to the wall like he needed to feel the vibration of that sound to believe it was real. His other hand dropped loose at his side, but his fingers were curling into a fist. His jaw flexed. His teeth clenched. And his dick…that shit jumped so hard it made him grunt. 

Out of nowhere.

A heat rolled through him so fast he nearly doubled over from it. Erik’s dick stiffened under his ball shorts heavy and thick. Pulsing like it knew what time it was. To hop in some pussy. Give that puss a slow stretch. The way that big dick rose in his briefs…dragging fabric with it, pushing up like it wanted to tear through. Tip swollen and leaking pre. Shaft thickening fast. Erik’s stomach fluttered from the sensation. Tight with pressure so deep with arousal that sat low, below the navel, almost painful from how quick it built. So sudden. A horniness he couldn’t recall ever experiencing. Erik dropped his head and breathed steady through his nose. But, that only made it worse. 

He could still smell her. Sweet. Warm. The scent of her had been living in his lungs since he stepped foot in that apartment days ago. Her perfume. Her hair and body oils. Her body wash. Her exfoliants. She sat on that damn sofa with her legs thrown over and now every where he turned he could smell her. Erik pressed his forehead against the wall, breaths heavier and his chest rising too fast. His abs clenched. He glanced down and hissed through his teeth. He could literally feel his tip leaking and the veins branched along his shaft bulge. That’s how hard he is. 

Rock fucking hard. 

Hard in a way that had nothing to do with the last woman he touched. Some bad one from St. Lucia. Pretty ting. Thick too. All dark skin and thick waist but that had been over two years ago. He barely remembered what her voice sounded like let alone what the pussy felt like. Erik didn’t care either. Not when he could hear Sanaa on the other side of that wall right now. 

He tilted his head. Listened. Wet sounds. Louder now. She was getting reckless with it. Sounded like she had her thighs wide open, toes pointed to the ceiling, knees bent to her chest and hips grinding against her hand. Fingering herself all greedy, probably using two. She ain’t care how loud she was. But she knew who she was moaning for. Playing in her pussy for. 

Erik swallowed hard.

He knew how it would go if he stepped over that line. If he walked his ass out this room and into hers. She wouldn’t even be able to breathe right after. Wouldn’t be able to sit the same. Walk the same. Talk the same once he put his dick past her gag reflex. 

He would open her up slow. Push that tongue in first. Get her wet from the inside out. Sloppy. Pussy licking strokes that came with heavy spit. Made the pussy talk and the cream flow. Lick every inch of her. Suck her clit between his lips until her pussy shook. Until her pretty hole clenched on nothing. Erik would eat her until her legs kicked, begging him to stop. But he wouldn’t. Not until he had her laid out how he wanted. Voice cracking. Eyes crossing. Them pussy lips numb and thighs trembling from overstimulation. Laid out, legs shaking, sheets soaked, crying from how good it felt. He’d tear her open with his dick after that. Let her feel every inch. No pull out. No breaks. Because if she was in there moaning his name like that? Saying Erik with that sweet voice all fucked-out? Then she already knew what she wanted. 

And it was him. It was him. Erik dragged his hand down the wall, curling his fingers into a tight fist. His dick twitched again. Leaked again. Tip soaked. He stared at the floor, not seeing it. All he could see was her. 

Erik…Erik…Erik

His dick throbbed so hard it pulsed at the base.

Fuck.

This wasn’t no crush. Wasn’t just tension. This was straight inferno. Lust. Hunger. Possession. Sanaa is younger, yeah. Probably didn’t know what to do with what Erik’s got packing. Had no clue the kind of man she was truly playing games with. He wasn’t like these boys she flirted with at school. Wasn’t like that lil’ nigga that took her on a dinner date. He wasn’t gon’ stroke it cute and kiss her forehead and ask her how it felt. 

He was gonna make her feel it. Over and over.

Teasing little thing with a frame so sickening and a bubble booty that jiggled just right under those long t-shirts and tiny shorts. Young, full of fire and bratty energy. Scrawny ass boys fumbling around like they had something to prove but delivered nothing but disappointment and quick pumps and empty promises. Thinking a sloppy kiss and a hurried fuck was all it took to handle a woman. But Erik wasn’t no boy. He a grown ass man. Built like a fortress with scars mapping his skin, low tolerance for disobedience from lil’ girls that need to be rectified with that act right. Dick so thick it stretched any pussy to its limits. Erik smirked to himself despite his struggle, full lips curving as his dimples flashed. But that was quickly turned into a snarl. Dana’s thought she was playing games, testing boundaries with her sassy mouth, but Erik would rewrite the rules. He’d fucking deep dick that good pussy and pound that good pussy until she shattered. Balls slapping. Filled with his nut. Marking her as his. Pure primal control from a man who took what he wanted and left her ruined for anyone else. 

Yeah, she wasn’t ready for this. 

He’d give her every inch until her pussy learned how to take it. Until she started creaming just from the stretch. He’d fuck her slow the first time, not outta mercy, but because he wanted her to remember it. She wanted to moan his name? Then she was gonna say it when she came too.

Again. And again. And again.

Erik leaned back from the wall and sat on the edge of the bed, perspiration sticking to his skin. Dick so hard it hurt. Sanaa didn’t even know what she just started. Didn’t know how close he was to snapping, all he had to do was open the door. All he had to do…was go get what already belongs to him. And she wouldn’t stop him. Not when that pussy was already calling for him.

He started pacing. Slow at first. Just a step. Then another. His chest rising. His shoulders tight. Pressure behind his eyes pulsing harder every time he circled back near the wall. He couldn’t hear her. Or maybe she was still going. Still playing with that pussy. Just quieter about it. 

Didn’t matter. 

That sound was already stamped on his brain. That little moan with his name in it. The way it curled at the end like sh was pulling the pleasure out of herself and letting it melt right into his damn name. 

Erik…

He gritted his teeth and kept pacing. Long strides. Every muscle in his arms and back locked. His biceps were flexed just from the strain of trying to calm the fuck down. Veins jumping in his forearms. This was the kind of hard that felt like punishment. Buzzing. Hot. Like every nerve ending in it was alive. Flaring. Drowning with blood and need and pure lust. It had been hard too long now and his patience was slipping. Erik paused at the mirror. A full-length mirror near his closet. But he needed to see. Needed to see what the fuck this girl just did to him. Erik stepped forward, wide chest rising, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. He pulled them down low. Real low. The elastic catching on the base, stretching tight over the thick girth and then—

Bop.

His dick sprang out.

Heavy. Thick. Hanging low. The weight of it swaying slightly before rising with blood and desire. Head flushed deep, dark, and glossy with arousal. That mushroom tip swollen an wet at the slit, a slow drip glistening. The shaft…long. Veiny. Vicious. A thick root at the base, hair growing somewhat wild. It had been awhile since his last trim. His dick curved down slightly and sat fat in his hand as he caught it mid-throb. 

“Fucccckkk,” he hissed, low, jaw clenching as he looked at it.

His brows pinched, lips parted, golds peeking as he sucked in air and stared. This girl got his shit swole. And she wasn’t even in the room. This lil’ slut done fucked around and got his dick stiff off a damn moan. Said his name once and had him walking the floor like a fucking maniac. This was need. Real need. Haven’t-been-touched-in-two-years-and-need-some-pussy-need.

He stroked it once. Lazy. Dick felt like a furnace in his hand. Too hot. That throb damn near made him shudder. Sanaa didn’t know what it meant to get dick like his. How deep he’d go. What kind of pressure this was. She’d fold. Figuratively and physically. He knew she would. She’d fold the second he had her on her back. Legs up. Hands locked above her head. Pussy stretched wide and fluttering. Mouth all open and eyes glossy. Looking at him like she ain’t know where she was anymore.  Like she’d never been fucked for real.

Erik hissed and looked away from the mirror. He put his hand on his hip, tried to get his breathing under control. Tried to think of something else. Anything. But all he could see was her mouth. The shape of it. The gloss. How it would stretch wide open. Moaning his name when he fed her dick then pulls back to slap it on her tongue. How she’d blink up at him like a good girl. Erik dragged his hand back up his length, hissed again, then wiped his palm on his thigh. He had to stop. Had to get his shit together. 

This is what she wanted. That’s what he kept telling himself.

Don’t play her game, Erik.

Don’t give her that satisfaction.

She was younger. Too much of a damn tease pulling this shit. Walking around in those little ass shorts. T-shirts with no bra. Those glasses. Hair in a messy bun. Voice soft and calm like she didn’t know how fast it worked on him. And now, she’s moaning his name like a little freak with her fingers in her pussy? Erik yanked his shorts back up, trying to cover himself but his dick wasn’t going for that. The outline pushed forward, stiff and obvious. A fat print stretching the front like he was trying to hide a weapon. She was younger. Too much of a damn tease pulling this shit. Walking around in those little sleep shorts. Tshirts with no bra. Those glasses. Hair in a messy bun. Lips always glossy. Voice soft and calm like she didn’t know how fast it worked on him. And now she’s moaning his name like a little freak with her fingers in her pussy? He yanked his sweats back up, trying to cover himself, but his dick wasn’t going for that. The outline pushed forward, stiff and obvious, a fat print stretching the front like he was trying to hide a weapon.

He ran a hand down his beard.

Closed his eyes again.

And what he saw earlier made it worse. 

That damn vibrator.

The purple one he saw in the shower last when she left it sitting on the ledge like it was normal. Like she didn’t care if anybody saw it.

He pictured it.

Sanaa naked, sitting on the edge of the tub, that toy buzzing against her clit. Her tongue out against her top lip. One hand holding the wand. The other pinching her nipple. He pictured her sliding it between her legs. Rocking against it. Thighs shaking. Shoulders curling in. He pictured her moaning, biting down on her bottom lip, maybe trying to keep it quiet but failing when that orgasm hit. The sounds she makes when she cums. That’s what he wanted to hear. 

That’s what he needed.

Erik turned toward the door. Reached for the knob.

Opened it.

Took one step out.

Then froze.

His jaw ticked.

He was this close. Right there. He could walk over, knock once or not at all. Push that door open. Grab her by the hips and make her spread for him. Let her feel what it really mean to say his name like that. But he didn’t move. Because if he gave in now, he wouldn’t stop. She’d be in his bed every night. That soft moan of his name would become a habit. She’d be addicted to the way he touched her, fucked her, owned her. 

And he wasn’t ready to lose that control. So he clenched his fists. Shut the door. Leaned his head against it and stood there breathing deep, dick still hard as steel.

She was gonna pay for this.

Just not tonight.

Not with his dick bricked up like this.

Aaliyah’s alarm buzzed from her phone docked by her window. A low yawn escaped her lips as she stretched, sheets tangled around her legs, the scent of her Cantu leave-in still lingering in the air from the twist-out she did last night. She shuffled into her morning with muscle memory—bonnet off, slippers on. Bathroom, skincare, brushing teeth, playlist on in the background. One of those easy, feel-good mornings. No chaos. Macha was already calling her name but first, she veered down the hall, knocking gently against the cracked door of Sanaa’s room.

“Sis?” Aaliyah called, nudging the door open with her knuckles, “you up?”

“Mhm”

Aaliyah stepped in and smiled at the sight. Sanaa was curled at her desk, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. Her curly hair was in a messy bun, big tendrils falling around her face. She had on one of her oversized college t-shirts that was faded from too many washes, sleeves falling over her wrists. Her legs were folded beneath her in the chair, Ugg slippers placed beneath her feet for easy access. Of course she looks cozy and cute

“Studying already?” Aaliyah grinned, flopping face-first onto Sanaa’s bed, “It’s not even nine.”

“Gotta get ahead before my midterms start clownin’,” Sanaa said, glancing over her laptop with a sleepy smile, “You making macha?”

“Later. Right now, I want the tea.”

Sanaa blinked over her glasses, “Tea?”

“Yes, bitch, the date. Nathan. Hello?” Aaliyah rolled onto her back dramatically, arms stretched over her head, “How was it? Did he smell good? Did he open your door? Was it giving potential husband or meal ticket and vibes?”

Sanaa laughed, sitting back in her chair and pulling the throw blanket off the back of it to wrap around her legs. 

“It was nice,” she said, almost shyly, “He’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” Aaliyah lifted a brow, “You blushing. Not too much, now.”

Sanaa bit her lip, head tilting.

“No, like…genuinely sweet. He asked real questions. Talked about his interests, his future plans, the kind of work he does in tech. He paid attention. Didn’t just talk to talk.”

“Mmm.” Aaliyah gave her a look, “So…is there gonna be a second date?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged with that coy little smile Aaliyah knew too well, “I’d go.”

Aaliyah grinned, “I like this for you.”

“Thank you.” Sanaa pushed her glasses up and nudged her laptop closed, “So what about you? Jordan still blocked or…?”

Aaliyah groaned and dragged a pillow over her face.

Sanaa grinned, “Ahh. So that’s a no.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Aaliyah sat up just enough to toss the pillow at her.

“Okay,” she sighed. “So…I might be giving him another chance.”

Sanaa blinked, “Might?”

“Fine. I am. Don’t look at me like that.”

Sanaa held up her hands, all fake innocence, “Lookin’ like what?”

“Like you knew this was coming.”

“Because I did,” Sanaa said, grinning, “Girl, you was never leaving that man. He got you hooked.”

“Shut up. It’s the other way around actually.” Aaliyah corrected. 

“No, no. Let’s talk about it.” Sanaa pulled her legs up in her chair and pointed at her, “You over here giving me dating advice when you the one who be texting that man paragraphs then deleting them.”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

Sanaa laughed, head back, curls bouncing, “Girl, you under his spell.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He’s a wannabe rapper.” 

“I like that he has aspirations. Leave me alone.”

Sanaa narrowed her eyes, “Don’t let Erik find out.”

Aaliyah paused.

Sanaa smirked, “Mhm. You know he gon’ beat Jordan’s ass if he catches wind.”

“Please.” Aaliyah waved it off,  “I’m grown. I’m not little Li-Li with the braces anymore.” 

“You sure about that?” Sanaa teased. 

“I’m positive,” Aaliyah said, but her voice had a little whine to it.

Sanaa gave her a look and wiggled her eyebrows, “Alright, big grown. Keep playing, though. Let Erik see Jordan dropping you off with that engine rattling and them loud ass rims.”

“That boy do not have loud rims.”

“He do,” Sanaa grinned, “And they ugly.”

“Whatever, bitch.” 

Sanaa’s smile softened as she curled the blanket tighter around her. For a moment, the teasing had faded and it was just them. Besties. 

Sanaa looked out the window, then back at her screen, “Just be careful,” she said, “With Jordan. I don’t wanna have to kill him myself.” 

Aaliyah nodded, serious now, “I will.”

A beat.

Then Sanaa added, “And if Erik do catch him slipping…I ain’t snitching.”

They both laughed.

They heard the door open at the same time. Both heads turned towards the hallway. Sanaa paused, eye brows raised. Aaliyah squinted like she expected trouble. Then came the sound of grocery bags rustling. 

“Erik?” Aaliyah called, already rising to her feet.

Sanaa stood, tugging her oversized T-shirt down over her shorts as she made her way out of the bedroom behind Aaliyah. By the time they reached the kitchen, Erik had already dropped three brown paper bags on the kitchen island. Another two sat by his feet, the tops folded but not sealed. He was wearing a fitted black tee, the sleeves hugging his arms, dark jeans sitting slightly low on his hips. A black beanie was pulled low over his locs. He removed it ant shook out his locs, licking his lips at the same time. 

“Morning,” he said, voice low and smooth.

Aaliyah blinked, “You went grocery shopping?”

“Somebody had to,” Erik said, pulling out a bundle of herbs, “I’m making breakfast.”

Sanaa looked over at Aaliyah, who was already frowning.

“What?” she asked.

“Like the old days,” Erik added, setting aside three cartons of organic eggs, “Before y’all forgot what a stove was.”

Aaliyah scoffed, “Erik, we cook.”

“Ramen don’t count.”

“Wow.”

Erik smirked, reaching fo the other bags, “Brought stuff to last at least a couple weeks. You two need to eat better. Especially if you gon’ keep living off takeout.”

Sanaa leaned over the counter and peeked into one of the bags. Bright fruits. Fresh greens. Kale. Spinach. Nothing frozen. Sweet potatoes, avocados, garlic bulbs. Everything labeled organic. 

Erik moved around the kitchen. 

Aaliyah gave him a look, “You bought…lean turkey?”

“Yup.”

“Quinoa?”

“High protein. Cooks quick.”

“Greek yogurt?” She held it up like it was a crime.

“With raw honey. You’re welcome.”

Sanaa smiled behind her hand, slipping to the other side of the counter to help unpack.  Every time she moved, she felt his eyes.

Tracking her.

Following.

She could feel it. The thick tension between them like a charged wire. His gaze kept dropping. To the line of her neck. The slope of her hips. The slow way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The way she pushed the baggy sleeves over her T-shirt up to reach into one of the bags. The way her calves flexed as she stood on her tiptoes. The sublte poke of that bubble booty. Her skin was warm. She hadn’t even looked at him fully. When she did, it hit like a jolt.

Their eyes met. Erik’s expression didn’t change but something dark stirred behind his gaze. His jaw ticked once. Those full lips parted barely. Sanaa’s heart kicked. She looked away quickly, cheeks heating, and focused on unpacking the last bag. Almond butter. Whole grain bread. Spices. Real cinnamon sticks. Fresh ginger. Lemons and limes. Avocado oil. A small pack of steel-cut oats and more. 

Aaliyah shook her head, overwhelmed, “You want us to meal prep or something?”

“I want y’all to eat balanced meals. And that lazy shit is all mental. Gotta put in the work.”

Aaliyah huffed, “I don’t have time for this shit. I’m in clinicals, lectures, research labs, plus that dissertation.”

“You got time to order UberEats at midnight though. Yeah, I caught you buying Shake Shack at damn near 1 AM.” 

Sanaa hid her smile again, lips pressed tight.

Aaliyah pointed, “Okay. Sanaa can cook.”

Sanaa blinked, “Excuse me?”

“You can.”

“I’m also in school. In case you forgot?” 

“You don’t leave the house like I do,” Aaliyah teased, bumping her shoulder.

Sanaa rolled her eyes, still avoiding Erik’s stare, “I’m not cooking every day.”

“You ain’t gotta,” Erik said, voice low.

Sanaa turned. He was watching her again.

“Just a couple meals a week. You know…real food.” He stepped closer, barely a foot between them now as he set down a bundle of asparagus, “Something real. With flavor.”

Their eyes locked again. Heat rolled between them.

Aaliyah clapped her hands together, “Who wants matcha?!”

Sanaa blinked and stepped back just slightly, “I’ll have some,” she said, clearing her throat.

Erik remained silent. 

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow at him, “You want any?”

“I’m good.”

“I figured.” She started toward the hallway, “Y’all get started on that food. I’m about to do some emails before class.”

Her steps faded behind them.

Sanaa opened the fridge, bending slightly to make space for the yogurt. She could still feel him behind her. That tension from last night flooding right back in. Her thighs pressed together. Sanaa grabbed an egg carton and placed it gently on the top shelf. 

When she stood again, Erik was still there. His eyes flicked from her lips to her neck, then down to the curve of her ass under that T-shirt then back up again. 

Neither of them said a word. 

The sound of running water and the rhythmic chop of a knife was the only thing filling the kitchen now. Aaliyah was still in her room and with her went the casual buffer thag had been keeping everything in that space breathable. Now, it was just Sanaa and Erik. The tension was so thick and close it almost pressed on her chest. She stood near the sink, cup of water held lightly in both hands, trying to keep her gaze off the man across the counter. The once she’d thought about while playing in her pussy last night. But, it was useless. Her eyes kept drifting. 

Erik was prepping like he wasn’t just making breakfast but building a memory. Everything laid out was fresh and hand-picked, no corners cut. He was moving smooth and clean, dicing onion with a precise hand, sliding it into the preheated skillet where it hissed the second it hit the oil. 

The kitchen filled with the smell of garlic and onion with a faint pop of fresh thyme crackling as he rubbed it between his fingers and gripped it in. His thick forearms flexed with each movement. Veins prominent. Skin smooth and rich. A quiet strength in his posture that made the kitchen feel smaller. Like it belonged to him now. 

Sanaa shifted her weight to one hip and sipped her water again, her eyes trailing down his back then to the way his broad hands moved through the ingredients like he’d done this a thousand times. Everything he did was with skill. Masculine in a way that made her pulse jump a little. Sanaa could hear the low scrape of the spatula on cast iron and smell the butter blooming into the aromatics. It smelled amazing 

Erik turned then, glancing over his shoulder, and caught her staring. 

Their eyes locked. 

She just kept sipping her water, the soft sheen of her gloss catching the light. One loose curl had fallen across her cheekbone, another rested just above her brow. Her glasses sat low on the bridge of her nose again, framing her eyes in a way that only made them more expressive. Curious. Bashful but not scared. 

Erik held her gaze.

His eyes scanned her face with a kind of deliberate stillness. She felt it pass over her lips, throat, then lower. Lingering on the way her shirt dipped at the collar. Her skin warms under his eyes. 

Then, his voice came. Low and smooth like it had dropped just for her. 

“You wanna help?”

She blinked once.

He waited.

“You don’t have to,” he added, turning his attention back to the cutting board, “Only if you want.”

Sanaa set the glass down on the counter with a soft clink and took in a slow breath. She stepped forward, bare legs brushing against the edge of the cabinets. 

“I can help,” she said, her voice soft, steady, “What do you need me to do, Erik?”

Something in the way she said his name made him pause. Erik glanced down at her again, one brow lifted. 

“Wash your hands,” he said, voice still low, “Then come here.”

Sanaa obeyed without question. She turned to the sink, soaped her hands, rinsed, then dried them on the cloth draped over the oven handle. Her heart thudded harder than she wanted it to but her face didn’t give it away. When she stepped closer, Erik had already stepped to the side, gesturing towards the pile of golden potatoes on the counter that he’d rinsed off thoroughly.

“Peel those,” he said, “Then cut ’em like this.”

Erik stepped behind her, not beside her, and reached around with his hand to guide hers. His palm slid across the back of her hand, his fingers curling around hers gently as he guided the angle of the blade. His other hand rested on the counter, trapping her in the space between him and the cutting board. 

Sanaa’s breath hitched. 

The heat of his body behind her was magnetic. He wasn’t even pressed against her but she could feel it. The closeness. The suggestion. She nodded slowly, following his lead. Fingers steady as she peeled the first potato with the peeler. 

“Thinner than that,” Erik said, voice brushing the shell of her ear, “Even slices.”

Her lashes fluttered.

Erik reached again, adjusting her grip, the pad of his thumb grazing along the inside of her wrist. A touch so light it was more suggestion than contact. 

“You got it,” he said, “Keep goin’.”

Sanaa swallowed, trying to keep focus. Her lips parted slightly as a tiny breath escaped her mouth. She could feel his breath when he leaned in just a little closer to reach for the bowl beside her. His voice came again, low and smooth like he was speaking just to the spot behind her ear. What happened to be the spot she felt the most sensitive. 

“What you been runnin’ off lately? Coffee and stress?” 

Sanaa have a tiny laugh, “Basically.”

Erik shook his head once, “Nah. Not while I’m around. We gon’ fix that.” 

Sanaa fought the urge to blush at his words. She bit down on her lip instead. 

Nothing else was said for a while but even in the silence it felt loaded. Full. Warm. Sanaa dropped the slices into the bowl Erik placed in front of her and reached for the next potato. Erik moved back just slightly, letting her work but his presence remained. Every time Sanaa glanced up, his gaze was there. Watching. Studying. She kept catching herself staring at his mouth. The way his lips parted. The slow drag of his tongue across the corner of his mouth. 

She peeled.

He cooked.

But it was thick in the air. The question. The temptation. 

The soft scrape of his knife against the board. The low clatter of a metal whisk against glass. The scent of browned butter and cinnamon curling into the air. The rich sweetness of the brioche he was prepping for Aaliyah, dipping it in the thick custard on both sides. Everything about his cooking was precise. 

And she kept catching herself looking.

At his shoulders. His back. The way his shirt clung to his chest. His jeans sitting lower on his hips as he moved. How tall he is, making the kitchen feel smaller just by being in it. Sanaa reached for the towel to wipe her hands. Erik moved beside her, brushing just close enough that her side grazed the solid structure of his body. Her breath caught for half a second. Erik didn’t even touch her with his hands and she felt as if he’d roamed her body. She wasn’t short by most standards, but next to him? She felt small. Especially now. 

“You straight?” he asked, voice low.

Sanaa looked up, “Yeah.”

Erik gave her a slight nod before tossing the whisk in the sink. “Cool.” Then, while he was cracking eggs into a separate bowl for the scrambled mix, he said it, “You sleep alright last night?”

Sanaa blinked. Her hands paused over the potatoes. 

Sanaa blinked. Her hand paused over the potatoes.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, “I did.”

Erik nodded once. Kept stirring, “I didn’t.”

Her stomach dipped. He spoke like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t carefully dropping that line into the room.

“Usually take me a minute,” he added, his voice causual but that deep tone was there, “Been that way for a while. Trained myself to stay aware. Just in case somethin’ pops off.” 

Sanaa stayed quiet and listened. She watched his hands as he stirred the eggs. 

The way his biceps flexed? Whew. 

“Also,” he continued, turning toward the stove, “the walls in this place are thin.”

The whisk hit the bowl a little harder on that last stir.

Sanaa went still.

Completely still.

For a second she forgot to breathe. Her hands tightened around the edge of the counter, heart thumping against her ribs. Her thighs clenched on reflex. She glanced up at him slowly. 

Erik wasn’t looking at her. He was pouring the egg mix into a nonstick pan, swirling it gently with a spatula, his back half-turned. 

Then he added, “Heard some noises. Kept me up.”

Sanaa’s cheeks flushed warm but her throat went dry. She stood straighter, adjusting the towel in her hand, trying to remain calm. She hoped she could keep her voice even. 

“I’m…” she started, then cleared her throat, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you up.”

Erik still wasn’t looking at her.  But he was attentive. The slight tick of his brow and the subtle lift of the corner of his mouth told her so. 

“I had to take care of something,” she said, her voice soft but steady now, “Something important.”

Erik turned his head slightly. His eyes slid to hers.

“The only way I could sleep.”

The words hung in the air like the steam off the skillet. Sanaa’s face was calm but her pulse skipped. Her stomach lurched. Every inch of her felt tight and loose at the same time. Her hand was clutching the towel even more. 

Erik finally looked at her fully and the stare that followed was heavy. Dragging. Unblinking. His eyes didn’t move quickly. They coasted over her slow with a tilt of his head. From her bun, to her glasses, down to her glossy lips. His eyes dropped even lower. Her neck. The slope of her chest beneath the shirt. The way the fabric barely brushed the top of her thighs. 

Then his gaze came back up.

They stared at each other. Hard.

No smiles. No teasing.

It was full silence, nothing light about it.

Sanaa’s breath moved in steady and tight. Her chest rose, then fell. Erik’s jaw shifted and his dark, almost black eyes narrowed. 

Still no words.

Sanaa could see the thoughts behind his eyes. Her boy reached before her mind could. A soft swag forward. It was almost unnoticeable but Erik clocked it he straightened just a touch, big hands braced on the counter like he was locking himself in place to avoid touching her. 

Like if he moved, it would be over.

They stared. And kept staring. Her stomach twisted. 

The timer on the oven went off, sharp and sudden. They both moved at once. Nothing said. Nothing touched.

But everything had already been felt. 

The oven timer had barely stopped ringing before Aaliyah’s voice came floating in from the hall. 

“Okay! Ya’ll better not be eating without me!”

Sanaa stepped back from the counter fast, heart beating way too loud. Her hands went to the towel, wiping her fingers for the third time, though they weren’t wet. She kept her eyes down, pretending to re-focus on the potatoes. She could still feel the lingering effect of Erik’s stare. That deep look like his eyes had hands that touched her without ever laying a finger. And now, her pussy was actively quivering. It made her stomach dip and her chest feel too tight under the worn cotton of her T-shirt. She swallowed and reached for the bowl, trying to appear busy. 

But it was no use.

The flood of arousal was quick. Immediate. Like a wave breaking inside her. She could feel it coat her. Shamefully slick between her thighs. Every movement she made now—walking, standing, even breathing—had her more aware of it. 

Aaliyah came bouncing into the kitchen, hoodie on, messy curls tucked behind one ear. She stopped and blinked then raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh wow. Sanaa in the kitchen. Doing things. Should I grab my camera?”

Sanaa turned slowly, lifting her eyes just enough to throw her sister a dry glare. 

“Funny.”

“I’m serious. This is rare,” Aaliyah said, tying her hoodie tighter, “We’re looking at history in real time.”

Behind her, Erik didn’t miss a beat. 

“She been stuck on them potatoes for like twenty minutes now.”

Sanaa shot him a sharp look over her shoulder. 

“I’m gonna throw one of these potatoes at your head.”

Erik gave her a look. That smirk. 

Dimpled.

Slick. 

It wasn’t the cocky kind. It was worse. The knowing kind. The you ain’t slick kind. The one that reached all the way to his eyes and lingered there. Sanaa turned back to the counter, trying to hide her own smirk. 

“I was helping,” she muttered.

“You were lookin’,” Erik said, voice low enough that Aaliyah didn’t catch the real weight behind it.  

Sanaa’s stomach fluttered again.

Aaliyah rolled her eyes and headed towards the kettle, opening the cabinet above it. 

“Sanaa in the kitchen and using her hands. Should I alert the press?”

Sanaa made a sound in her throat, flat and unimpressed,  “You act like I don’t cook at all.”

“I mean…” Aaliyah reached for her favorite matcha tin, “I just think it’s cute that you suddenly know where the knives are.”

Behind her, Erik watched quiet. The skillet spoke—potatoes sizzling as he turned them slow, the scent of garlic blooming in the butter and oil. He tossed a glance at Sanaa and she caught it. Another one of those loaded, quiet stares. 

Her grip on the towel slipped a little.

Aaliyah, still fully unaware, turned with a spoon in her hand, “Anyway, I’ll stay out y’all way while you two chef it up. I’m just here to make my little matcha and mind my business.”

She smiled, casual and sweet, then turned back to her drink. Sanaa exhaled, her lips barely parting. Erik leaned down to check the heat, dimples flashing as he caught her stare again. 

She looked away.

Fast.

But not before her breath caught again, low in her throat.

But her thoughts…her thoughts wouldn’t let her go.

Thin walls.

Heard some noise.

Kept me up.

Her heart fluttered all over again.

He heard her.

She’d moaned his name. She remembered if vividly. Body spread in the sheets, thighs wide open, fingers gripping the pillow and that last slick sound that slipped out of her mouth. 

Erik…

It had been breathless. Needy. She hadn’t meant to say it so loud. 

But she did.

And he heard it.

And now here he was, smooth and controlled, sautéing potatoes with garlic and scallion like he hadn’t been just inches from pinning her to the counter minutes ago. 

She felt herself pulse again.

Why didn’t he come over? If he heard…if he knew…

Why didn’t he come into her room? Why don’t he press that hard body of his between her thighs and put his mouth on her until she cried? Why didn’t he take what she was so clearly asking for? 

Maybe he wanted her to beg.

Or maybe he wanted her to know that he could’ve but didn’t. Because that kind of control? That restraint? That was a different kind of power. One that made her wetter than she wanted to admit. 

“Yo, sit down,” Erik said, lifting a hand as Aaliyah reached for the plates, “I got it.”

“You sure?” she asked, half-teasing, already hovering near the counter.

“Yes. Go sit with your little best friend.” Erik pointed toward the dining table, “Both of y’all. Chill. I’ll make the plates.”

Sanaa glanced at Aaliyah who gave a shrug and mouthed ‘damn, okay’ then headed towards the table with her mug of matcha. The dining space was small but cozy. Two chairs on either side of the wooden table. A fake succulent centerpiece sat in a tray with a half-burnt candle. Erik’s presence made the room feel warmer—more settled. Like the apartment remembered what it was like to have him there. Even the sound of him in the kitchen, heavy footsteps and drawers sliding open, felt..familiar. 

“So what’s your week looking like?” Sanaa asked, tucking a curl behind her ear as she settled into the chair.

Aaliyah exhaled loudly like the question alone wore her out. She pulled her legs up into the seat, cross-crossed, and rested her elbow on the table dramatically. 

“Pure hell,” she said, “Clinic hours Monday and Wednesday, that reproductive justice roundtable Tuesday, and I still gotta finish my final proposal before the weekend or they’ll drop me from the SisterSong fellowship.”

Sanaa blinked, “That’s this week?”

“Yes,” Aaliyah groaned, “It’s literally the last thing I have to turn in before they ship me off to Atlanta for three months.”

“Girl…”

“I know,” she said, stirring her matcha with a little too much energy, “It’s exciting, and I’m proud, but also—high-key—I’m ready for spring break. Like, I need to lie down for a week and not advocate for a single soul.”

Sanaa laughed, “You are so dramatic.”

“I’m serious. I’m over here tryna prevent infant mortality and fight health disparities.”

Sanaa grinned, resting her chin on her hand, “you’re the one who chose to major in this, Aaliyah.” 

“Because somebody has to!” Aaliyah said, pointing a finger, “And it ain’t you with your six half-read theory articles open and your self care Sunday energy.”

“That’s wild,” Sanaa deadpanned, smiling.

“I’m just saying,” Aaliyah said, “we both stressed. But I’m on the front lines and you’re on Pinterest looking up inspo for your hair appointment.”

“You need to eat your French toast and calm down.”

Aaliyah huffed, but a smile tugged at her lips, “I really am geeked for this toast though. He made that whipped brown sugar butter, huh?”

“Yep,” Sanaa nodded, “now you’re making me want some.” 

Aaliyah picked up her fork like it was a weapon, “I’m ’bout to risk it all.”

They laughed together, the space was filled with warm smells and the easy kind of joy that came from years of being in each other’s orbit. Oakland-born, to D.C. 

Sanaa reached for her water just as her eye flicked to Erik who was at the stove finishing the last of the turkey sausage. His focus was sharp.

Not that Aaliyah noticed.

She was too busy hyping herself up to finish her fellowship paperwork, fall back in love with her favorite french toast, and maybe text Jordan when no one was looking. Erik returned from the kitchen holding two plates, steam curling off the food, every item arranged like he gave a damn about presentation. The potatoes were golden and crisp. The eggs folded fluffy with green onion. The turkey sausage stacked perfectly with a side of avocado and pan-seared tomatoes. 

Aaliyah’s plate had the brioche french toast dusted with powdered sugar and topped with a scoop of warm brown sugar vanilla butter melting down the sides. 

“Damn,” Aaliyah whispered, eyes wide as he set it in front of her. “Okay, Chef Boyardee.”

“Chef who?” Erik gave her a look.

“Boyardee! You heard me!” she said quickly, grabbing her fork.

Sanaa just smiled to herself as he placed her plate down next, close enough that she could smell the heat off his skin. His fingers grazed the edge of the napkin she’d set out. Just a second too long. Then, he turned, made his own plate, and returned with that same steady, quiet energy—shoulders squared, attention focused, but his gaze kept landing on her. 

She didn’t return it. Not at first.

Sanaa focused on her food. Potatoes were crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Just the right amount of herb. The turkey sausage had a kick to it. Everything tasted amazing. But she felt his eyes from across the table. She could feel the heat of his stare drag up her arms, down her neck, across her face. Sanaa tried her best not to entertain it. She stayed cool, played her role. 

“I’ve got a hair appointment later,” she said casually, slicing into her eggs.

Aaliyah perked up, “Ooo, what you getting?”

“Silk press.”

“Period,” Aaliyah grinned, mouth full of toast, “You already know you gon’ look good. That shit about to swing.”

“I know,” Sanaa said, her voice soft and teasing, “It’s time.”

Aaliyah was halfway through her french toast when she slowed down, fork hovering over her plate, and looked across the table at Erik. 

“So…are you thinking about going back to Oakland for a few days?” she asked casually, like she hadn’t been sitting on the question, “Sanaa and I are gonna go. I got a week break before I have to be back in Atlanta for the fellowship.”

Sanaa glanced up at that, her chewing slowed as she listened. Erik didn’t look up from his plate, he forked a turkey sausage and took a bite from it. 

“Don’t know, Liyah,” he said, “Might got a job lined up.”

Aaliyah let out a long sigh and rolled her eyes, “Can’t you hold off on killing people for money for one second?”

Sanaa blinked, fork paused in the air. She looked between the two of them. Erik didn’t take the bait. He lifted his fork, took another bite, chewed slow, jaw ticking once before he said—flat, clipped—“I ain’t got time for no nosy questions about what I’m doin’, who I’m talking to, or why I don’t come around.”

That hung in the air.

Aaliyah leaned back in her seat and picked up her matcha, sipping it like she needed the warmth to swallow her pride. Her lips pressed tight around the rim, eyes darting everywhere but at her big brother. 

Sanaa looked at her. Then at him.

The shift in the air was sharp. Quiet, but sharp. Sibling tension that came layered with years of history and unresolved bruises. Not explosive but there. Pressed beneath the surface. Sanaa could feel the tightness in Erik’s shoulders. The way his attention flickered once to Aaliyah, then back to his food. Whatever was going on between them.

The silence lingered just a second too long.

Then, Erik set his fork down and leaned back in his chair slightly, eyes shifting toward Aaliyah with that familiar slant of brotherly teasing.

“You know what I ain’t missing though?” he said, tone smoother, a hint lighter.

Aaliyah looked up, a little wary, “What?”

“That graduation.”

Her expression cracked.

A small smile crept across her lips before she could catch it. 

Erik nodded once, slow and sure, “Nah, I’m dead serious. I’m pullin’ up. Front row. Loud as hell. Don’t care what school security talkin’ about.”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed, “Please don’t start no drama at Howard, Erik.”

“You gon’ see me with a poster and a bullhorn,” he added, “Yellin’ your whole government name. Aaliyah Nicole Stevens, B.S. Public Health, Minor in Mindin’ Other People’s Business. AHHHHHH.” 

That pulled a real laugh from her.

Sanaa smiled behind her glass.

Then Erik leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, his voice dipping into something quieter. Something that carried more weight, “For real, though. I’m proud of you.”

Aaliyah blinked, caught off guard.

Erik’s gaze stayed steady, “You been grinding. No shortcuts. You really out here tryna make things better for people. Mama would’ve been proud too.”

A beat passed. Aaliyah looked down, smile trembling on her lips. Erik’s expression softened even more in his entire face. The hard lines of his jaw loosened. His brow smoothed. That dimpled smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. Gentle. Real. It was a face Sanaa hadn’t seen in a long time. It wasn’t sharp, calculating Erik. This version, the one who looked like peace might be possible. She stared a little too long. Erik leaned across the table and kissed Aaliyah on the forehead, rough hand cupping the back of her head. 

“Stop it,” she grumbled, shoving at his shoulder, “You too affectionate now.”

“Gotta balance all the murder,” he said with a straight face.

Aaliyah snorted into her matcha. And just like tha, the tension cracked. Sanaa was still watching him and wondering what it would take to make that softness his new default. 

As they chatted, her legs shifted beneath the table absentminded. She skipped one food out of her Ugg slipper and stretched, letting her toes wiggle free. The motion was unconscious—habit. A way to cool off. But then…

Her foot touched something solid.

Warm.

Hard.

His leg.

She froze.

It wasn’t just a brush. It was a slow drag, the ball of her foot against the side of his calf. Sanaa moved to pull back quick but before she could—

Erik’s hand caught her ankle.

Her body went still.

Her breath caught behind a soft gasp.

She looked up, slow, careful.

Erik’s eyes held hers, low and unreadable, thick with that same pressure from earlier. One hand still on his fork, the other beneath the table, fingers around her ankle like he had all the time in the world.

He gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Her pussy clenched.

Sanaa blinked at him, heart beating way too loud.

Then Aaliyah stood, “Be right back, I forgot my phone in the kitchen.”

Sanaa tensed.

Erik didn’t let go.

She looked at him sharp, trying to shoot him a warning but he just leaned back slightly, completely relaxed, thumb brushing the arch of her foot now. 

He was teasing her. Her leg jerked slightly. She leaned forward over the table.

“Stop,” she whispered, lips barely moving, voice light and whiny in a way she didn’t mean for it to be.

Erik’s lips curled—dimples again, full smirk now. She tried to pull her leg back. He held it. Her toes flexed in his hand. His grip tightened just a little.

“Erik,” she hissed, under her breath.

“Hmm?”

“Stoppp.”

He chuckled low.

It was the sound that undid her. Rich and knowing and deep in his chest. This man knew exactly what he was doing. Aaliyah returned with her mug, oblivious, dropping back into her seat.

“Yo, y’all killed this! Like I might need you to make breakfast for now on. Just like back home, right, E?”

Sanaa’s face was warm. She tucked her foot under the other, finally free and pushed her plate forward slightly, suddenly full.

Erik just kept eating.

Aaliyah pushed her plate forward and let out a soft groan, slouching back in her seat.

“Yeah…I’m full. That was everything.” She stood and scooped up her plate, balancing her matcha mug on top, “I’m about to shower and study for a couple hours. Gotta get ahead before this week starts kicking my ass.”

Sanaa smiled into her glass, “Go do your little flashcards.”

“Girl, don’t hate.” Aaliyah leaned in to nudge her on the shoulder before heading to the kitchen, “I’ll leave y’all to finish cleaning. Love you, mean it.”

She disappeared down the hall, humming to herself. The moment the water started running in the bathroom, Sanaa let out a soft giggle.

Erik glanced over, slow and unbothered, brow raised, “Why you gigglin’?”

Sanaa shrugged, eyes low, trying to suppress her grin, “Don’t worry about it, Killmonger.”

His jaw ticked, “What I tell you about callin’ me that?”

Sanaa’s smile widened, her voice syrupy and slick, “Why can’t I call you that? It’s a nickname, right?”

Erik gave her a look. Dark eyes narrowing, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. Sanaa leaned back in her chair, legs crossed beneath the table, her foot swinging lazily back and forth, brushing his shin every few seconds. 

Then she kicked him.

Not hard. A playful little tap.

But it was enough.

Erik caught her foot again without warning. Both hands this time. Big, rough palms wrapping around her ankle and arch. He pulled her in under the table, dragging her chair forward inch by inch. Wood scraping the floor. Her body inching closer to the edge.

Her breath hitched. She tried to yank her foot back but he wasn’t letting go.

“Erikkkk,” she whined, voice low, damn near begging.

His eyes, they burned. That same dangerous flicker from earlier that made her chest flutter and her belly clench tight.

He tightened his grip, “Say my name.” A pause, “Say it again.”

Her breath hitched, “Let my foot go.”

His voice dropped, “You givin’ orders now, Bri?”

She shook her head slowly, “That wasn’t an order. That was a request.”

“You sure?” he whispered, dark amusement curling at the edges.

Sanaa narrowed her eyes.

He rubbed his thumb slow across the top of her foot, right at the softest part near her toes. Her stomach flipped. The touch was lazy. Familiar. Possessive. Her pulse jumped so hard she felt it in her throat. He leaned back just slightly, that same calm stillness in his chest. But his voice?

Low. Firm. Dangerous.

“Say my name. Like I said.”

It wasn’t a request. She tugged again, foot still in his hand.

She huffed, “Why you actin’ like this?”

That slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “You ain’t said it right yet.”

She twisted again, “Erik—”

“Nah,” he cut her off, voice thick with warning now, “You know how I want it.”

Her eyes flared. Heat crawled up her throat.

Still, Sanaa held her ground—barely.

“You gon’ hold my foot hostage?”

His thumb stroked across her ankle, slow. Possessive.

“You want it back?” he asked, head tilted, “Say it.”

She exhaled sharply, biting the inside of her cheek.

He was enjoying this. Too much.

“You a damn menace,” she argued.

That smirk deepened, “And you still ain’t said my name.”

His grip loosened. But he didn’t let go.

“Let it go,” she whispered.

He looked at her, head tilted, “That ain’t how you ask for shit now is it?”

Her eyes held his.

It was heat. Tension. And something thick resting beneath the words. Something neither of them wanted to name yet. But it was there.

Lurking.

Pressing against the edges of the moment.

She stared at him. Then, lips barely parting, breath catching—

“…Erik.” Her foot twitched in his grip, “Please,” she said, soft and slow, “Can I have my foot back.”

Erik smiled cockily. Teasing. His thumb slid up her arch again, then he let go. Sanaa pulled her leg back fast, tucking it beneath her other thigh, heart racing.

“Asshole,” she muttered.

“That was light work, ma.” he said, voice dragging low across the syllables.

Sanaa looked away quick, her foot still tingling where he touched it.

She pushed her chair in and slipped down the hallway like her legs weren’t hers. Like her body was drifting a step ahead of her mind. Her foot was still warm where his hands had been. And her panties…soaked. Sticky in the worst way. The best way. That dangerous kind of wet that made her sensitive to everything—the air on her skin, the hem of her shorts, her own damn heartbeat.

She slipped into her bedroom without looking back.

Closed the door.

Then leaned on it with her back, eyes shut. Breathed through her nose like that was supposed to help.

It didn’t.

She could still feel the shape of him in the air.

That look he gave her across the table, heavy and dark like he wanted to see what she looked like fucked. The way his jaw ticked when she laughed at something. That voice sliding through her body. And the way he’d gripped her foot? Like a man who’d already imagined how far her knees could bend?

Her chest rose with a shaky breath.

She moved.

Shower cap. Clean towel. Fresh underwear. Grabbed them without thinking, routine muscle memory taking over while the rest of her burned. She stepped back into the hallway, barefoot and quiet.

She could hear him In the kitchen. Plates clinking. Water running. Forks knocking. A domestic noise that sounded so regular, so casual, it made the mess inside her feel even louder.

Her pussy was aching.

She locked the bathroom door.

Turned on the light.

And started peeling clothes off. 

The oversized tee slipped up and over her head, brushing her skin as it dropped to the tile. Her breasts felt heavy, nipples hard and aching. Shorts and panties next—wet, sticky, clinging to her folds before they slid down her thighs and dropped.

She caught her reflection in the mirror.

Body gleaming.

Brown skin glowing like syrup under the bright light. A soft-thick shape that couldn’t hide desire even if she tried. Her chest rose too fast. Her lips looked kiss-swollen. And between her legs…she didn’t even have to look to know she was dripping. She turned on the shower and let it heat, steam climbing the mirror like fog. She pulled her cap over her hair, secured it, and stepped in. The first hit of hot water against her back made her gasp. She started with the basics—unscented Dove sliding over her skin, chest to arms to stomach, then down her thighs. But her hands moved slower than normal. Gliding. Curving. Lingering at her waist, slipping lower.

She tried not to think about him.

Tried.

But then his voice came back. That gritty whisper when he said her name. The way he looked at her like he could read her mind. The way his eyes kept drifting to her chest like he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. She reached for her sugar scrub, fingers trembling. The oil and granules melted over her skin, scented warm and decadent. She rubbed it in. Thighs. Hips. Under her breasts. Her belly. She kept her motions smooth. But it was too much. Too slick. Her nipples brushed her forearm and tightened like they wanted to be in someone’s mouth. Her mouth parted on instinct.

Her hand slid lower, legs shifted. A brush here. A graze there. And then her fingers paused. Found heat. 

Last night crashed into her like a wave.

The thin walls and him hearing her. Hearing the way she moaned his name when she came with her fingers on her clit and deep in her pussy. 

She swallowed hard. Squeezing her legs together under the water, didn’t help suppress the feeling. Her clit was pulsing. Her pussy clenching, slicker now, the heat blooming wider.

She leaned a hand on the wall.

Bowed her head.

Bit her bottom lip just to stay quiet.

The water trickled between her breasts, over her stomach, down her thighs. Sanaa lathered with her scented body wash, but the bubbles moved over her nipples and hips made her back arch. Made her eyelids flutter. Made her bite her lip. 

She needed more.

She reached for the toiletry bag sitting on the shelf. 

Her hand moved fast.

Zipper open.

Purple toy in hand. Lube. Twist cap. Apply. All with movements she didn’t even fully think through. She leaned back against the wall, one foot up, heel pressed to the ledge, water pounding her back. One hand gripped the edge of the tile. The other guided the toy between her thighs.

The first buzz made her jump.

Sanaa gasped, an angelic sound caught in her throat, half-whimper, half-curse. She dragged it over her clit again, the tremor going straight to her gut, pulling her open. Her hips bucked forward and her pussy clenched around nothing, greedy and dripping. She worked that vibratory in slow circles. On her clit. Drawing out the ache. Her head dropped back. 

All she could see was Erik.

Big hands. Full lips. That back. The way he sat wide in a chair like nothing could fit around him. The sound of his voice when he said her name. The thought alone made her moan.

Her body answered fast.

Pleasure surged through her, spine arching, stomach tensing. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, trying to stay quiet, trying not to say his name out loud again but failing.

“Erik…fuck.” 

The orgasm took her quick. Her legs felt like jello in a slippery tub, hips buckling slightly. Her knees knocked. Her back slid along the tile. She pressed her shoulder to the wall and let it wash over her.

Then she came again with her mouth half-open, thighs clenched around the toy, breath broken into little gasps as her body rolled through it. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that. Eventually she reached up and turned the water off. She pressed her forehead to the slick tile, breathing in deep to steady herself after that explosion. Chest rising, falling.

Her clit still twitched.

Sanaa reached down, slid her fingers between her folds, just once, just to feel how soaked she still was.

Then she whispered his name under her breath. Real soft.

Erik…

And it made her ache all over again.

She wa glowing. Muscles loose. Curls damp because her shower cap has lifted. Nipples tight and aching. She opened her eyes, reached for the towel, pulled it off the hook and dragged it across her chest, every pass a tease, her own skin too sensitive now. She was flushed and flushed out. Pussy throbbing. She’d cum already, but it wasn’t enough.

She needed those big ass hands. That mouth. Him staring at her while he fucked her. That wide frame barely contained in the doorway when he leaned there like he had all day. Like he knew damn well she was dripping on the other side of the wall, needing something thick, long, and deep, in her pussy to shut the ache down.

Sanaa wrapped the towel around her. It clinched her waist. One thigh peeked out where the slit opened. She pulled off her shower cap and shook her curls loose, steam kissing her skin as they bounced around her face damp.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked good.

Dewy. Licked in gold light. That fresh-out-the-shower glow that made everything look edible. She leaned closer, tilting her chin slightly. Lips plump and kiss-wet. Neck still beaded with water. She was wet from the shower and from cumming. Sanaa let out a slow exhale through her nose, but it turned into a quiet, hot sigh.

Her body was damn near vibrating.

It wasn’t a crush anymore. This wasn’t some girlish curiosity.

She needed him.

Needed Erik like a fever needed breaking.

She wanted that man to fuck her. Flat out. No pretending. No teasing. No more innocent looks across the table or heat-thick moments in the hallway where he walked past too close, eyes tracking her like he was thinking about pinning her. She wanted to ruin that man.

Fuck his retwist up.

Wipe that cool, quiet look off his face until he was gripping her hips and talking nasty in her ear with that deep Oakland drawl. She wanted him on top of her. Behind her. Under her. Wherever he needed to be to fill the ache that refused to go away.

She licked her lips.

Tilted her head.

Rolled one shoulder slow, easing the towel down just a little.

Fuck playing fair.

She knew what he’d heard last night.

Thin-ass walls and her pussy loud as hell. She’d moaned his name while her fingers worked her clit in slow circles, and she knew he heard it. He was on the other side of that wall listening, probably with his dick in his hand. Letting her ride the edge alone, knowing damn well he could’ve stepped in and ended her suffering right then and there.

And now she was done pretending.

He wanted her? Come get her.

She adjusted the towel, letting the corner dip just a little lower over the swell of her ass as she turned to gather her things. Every move she made was charged now. Her body felt too alive to hide it. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom the same girl who walked in.

Nope.

Sanaa Brielle Carter was ready to get fucked.

Not just touched. Not just teased.

Pinned. Stretched. Split open on a real man’s dick. One that matched the size of his damn ego. One she knew he carried like a weapon.

She wanted those thick fingers gripping her thighs while his mouth worked her over slow.

Wanted his body stretched over hers, sweat dripping from his chest, golds flashing while he hit it, those scars creating sensations all over her body. Wanted to hear that man groan her name in that ruined, low, can’t-hold-it-back voice. She wanted to lose herself on his dick, to be the reason he forgot everything else. To be the last woman he ever thought he could play it cool with.

If she didn’t get him soon she was gon’ lose her damn mind.

She wasn’t just hungry. She was starving.

Sanaa gripped the doorknob, looked back at herself once more, then opened the door. Steam rolling out behind her. A confident air clinging to her skin like her towel did.

She stepped out, not caring if he saw.

In fact, she hoped he did.

She was ready now.

Let him come try and act unfazed. Let him try and walk past with that same cool stride. She was about to break that man’s whole routine. And when she was done he’d never be the same.

Erik’s door was cracked.

Just enough.

She clocked it immediately. The angle. The sliver of light spilling out. The quiet thump of bass from a game soundtrack layered under the sharp sounds of sneakers squeaking on hardwood. NBA 2K. Of course.

She stepped out anyway.

Towel wrapped snug around her chest and hips, skin still dewy, curls loose and springy from the cap she’d just pulled off. Water traced slow paths down her collarbone, between her breasts, disappearing beneath the towel. Her thighs brushed with each step. She didn’t look at his room. She walked past like she didn’t feel him there. Like she couldn’t feel his attention snap tight the second she crossed his line of sight.

Erik was on the floor of his bedroom, back against the side of the bed, legs bent. A PS5 controller sat heavy in his hands, thumbs moving with sharp precision. Fitted tee stretched over his chest, the fabric clinging to muscle. His arms flexed every time he shifted, veins faint but visible. He replaced his jeans with joggers now that hung low on his hips, waistband dipping just enough to show the band of his briefs. Locs framed his face, shadowing his cheekbones. Brows drawn together in concentration.

He was locked in.

Until he wasn’t.

The second she passed, his thumbs slowed. Then stopped. The game kept going. Players running. Crowd noise roaring.

Erik didn’t move.

His eyes dragged over her in one long, unbroken pull. From the damp curls clinging to her shoulders. To the swell of her breasts straining the towel. Down her waist. Her hips. Her thighs. His gaze lingered there, heavy, like he was thinking about how they’d feel wrapped around his head. Around his waist.

Sanaa felt it.

That stare hit her low and hot.

She stepped into her room, set her toiletry bag down and grabbed her body butter. Cocoa rich and warm, the scent already thick on her fingers. She turned back toward the bathroom, posture loose and confident like she didn’t have a damn thing to hide.

She stopped in front of the bathroom mirror.

Fogged. Cloudy. Her reflection hazy and soft.

Perfect.

She scooped some butter into her palms and rubbed them together, slow. Lifted one leg, propping her foot on the counter. The towel shifted, not much. Just enough. She worked the butter into her thigh with long, unhurried strokes. Hands gliding over skin that caught the light, glossy and brown. She leaned closer to the mirror. Tilted her head. Fluffed her curls, fingers fluffing them, lifting them at the roots. The towel slipped a little lower with the movement. She knew he was watching. Sanaa rolled her shoulder, switched legs, moisturizing the other thigh now. Her breathing stayed even, but her body was loud. 

From the corner of the mirror, she saw him shift.

Game forgotten.

His eyes were on her like he was afraid to look away.

Sanaa finally turned her head.

Met his stare.

Held it.

Her mouth curved just a little.

“You got a problem with your eyes?” she asked, voice smooth, casual, like she wasn’t standing there half naked and glowing.

His lips parted. Jaw flexed, “Nah,” he said, low and even, “They work just fine.”

She raised a brow, “Then why you staring?”

He leaned his head back against the bed, eyes still locked on her. Heavy. Like he was branding every detail into his memory.

“Because you standing in my line of vision,” he said, calm but sharp, “looking like you know exactly what you doin’ too.”

Her pulse kicked.

She stepped closer to the bathroom doorway, “Maybe I don’t care,” she said.

His mouth twitched, “Careful,” he replied, “You keep moving like that, somebody might think you tryna get their attention.”

She laughed soft. Shook her head once, “Funny,” she said, “Because you been paying attention all damn day.”

Silence stretched.

Thick.

Charged.

Erik finally set the controller down beside him. His hand folded over his crotch. 

“You gon’ finish what you doing,” he said, eyes never leaving her, “or you just gon’ stand there teasing me for sport?”

Her breath hitched.

She stepped back into the bathroom, palm sliding over the mirror as she turned.

“Guess you’ll see,” she said over her shoulder.

The towel slipped another inch. And Erik stayed right where he was.

Watching.

She moved out of the bathroom when she was finished as if she were floating, her eyes lingering on his as she disappeared past his door and into her bedroom.

Sanaa stood in front of the mirror in her room, her oversized cardigan slipping just off one shoulder as she leaned in to swipe another coat of gloss across her lips. Brown liner sharp. Nude gloss slick and soft. Her baby tee hugged her just right, ribbed cotton pressing against the curve of her waist and the soft swell of her chest. She smoothed it down once, then stepped back. The jeans sat low on her hips, dark denim with just a little stretch. Her gold charm bracelet jingled softly as she reached for her earrings—classic hoops, light enough to swing when she turned her head. The necklace was simple, a small teardrop charm with her birthstone glinting at the base of her throat. Uggs on. Kayali Candy Rock Sugar kissed over her pulse points—sweet, feminine, a little warm. She didn’t overdo the makeup. Light beat. Lashes curled. Brows brushed and filled. That soft shimmer at the high point of her cheekbones made her glow like she had good secrets.

She slung her Telfar over one shoulder and grabbed her phone off the charger.

A notification pinged.

Lyft Driver arriving in 4 minutes.

She stopped by Aaliyah’s room before heading out.

Aaliyah was laid across her bed, laptop open and half her attention on an article while her AirPods dangled loose in her hoodie pocket.

“I’m heading out,” Sanaa said, leaning against the doorframe, “Lyft is almost here.”

Aaliyah looked up, “Wait. Why didn’t you just ask Erik to take you?”

Sanaa paused for a half-second too long, then blinked like the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

“He’s busy,” she said, adjusting her cardigan sleeve, “And I’m not tryna wait on him to spend twenty minutes doing…whatever he does before leaving the house. My ride already outside.”

Aaliyah shrugged, “Fair. But you should hit him up after. See if he can pick you up. I might not be around.”

Sanaa tilted her head, “You got plans?”

“Maybe.” Aaliyah stretched, smiling a little, “Jordan mentioned something about taking me out for dinner later. Don’t roll your eyes.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You was thinking it.” Aaliyah gave her a playful glare, “But actually, if you and Nathan go out again…y’all should double with us. Keep it cute. Brunch or something.”

Sanaa smirked, “You and Jordan at brunch is not cute.”

“You right—it’s chaotic. But still. Think about it.”

Sanaa nodded, just enough to acknowledge, “I’ll let you know.”

“Oh! and while I’m thinking about it—” Aaliyah closed her laptop halfway and sat up, “If anything goes wrong while I’m gone—plumbing, fuse box, packages, creepy neighbor downstairs—just hit Erik. He’s around. You got his number, right?”

Sanaa froze.

Then shook her head, casual.

“Nah.”

Aaliyah narrowed her eyes, “How you plan to survive here without me for the rest of the semester and don’t have his number?”

“I just never needed it,” Sanaa said, voice soft.

“Well now you do.” Aaliyah reached for her phone, thumbs tapping, “Girl. Here.”

A soft chime buzzed from Sanaa’s phone. She glanced down at the screen.

Contact Received: ERIK.

It took her a second.

Her thumb hovered over the message screen. A breath caught in her throat before she finally tapped out the words.

Sanaa: Hey, it’s me. Aaliyah gave me your number — said to hit you just in case anything goes left while she’s gone.

The reply came quick, like he’d been waiting on it.

Erik: You expectin’ shit to go left?

She smirked, biting back the warmth spreading across her face.

Sanaa: With my luck? Absolutely.

She locked her phone, slid it into her bag, and gave Aaliyah one last look before heading out.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

“Cool. And text Erik too. Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not.”

“Mmhmm,” Aaliyah said, already opening her laptop again, “Safe travels, Bri.”

“Thanks, girl.”

And with that, Sanaa walked out.

Now she had his number. Now the line was open.

The Lyft ride was quiet.

Sanaa sat back in the plush seat, letting the city pass by as D.C.’s late morning light crept through the windows. Her phone buzzed once in her lap, but she didn’t look. She just stared out, AirPods in, light music playing, her fingers lightly brushing against the zipper of her Telfar. She was trying not to think too hard.

But Erik kept coming back anyway.

The way he looked at her. The way he moved. The way he grabbed her foot like he owned it. Like her body was his business.

She sighed and shifted in the seat.

The driver pulled into the plaza quietly, a row of boutique suites lined in clean black awnings and soft gold signage. Sanaa thanked him, stepped out, adjusted her cardigan, and walked to the glass door labeled “The Rooted Room” in sleek, hand-painted script. Below it, in smaller letters:

Natural Haircare • Silk Press Specialist • Loc + Curl Artistry

As soon as she stepped inside, warmth wrapped around her.

The suite smelled like eucalyptus water, soft incense, and deep conditioner. Hints of mango butter, rosemary oil, and something sweet and creamy in the air—probably that custard curl cream the stylist always used on her clients’ twist-outs. The light was low and golden, lamps instead of overhead fluorescents. A plush waiting chair sat in the corner next to a tiny marble-topped table with neatly stacked beauty mags and a chilled carafe of cucumber water.

The walls were a warm clay tone, earthy and grounding. Gold-framed prints of Black women with all kinds of hair adorned the space—fros, locs, coils, cornrows, pressed straight. A long mirror ran across the wall behind the single styling chair, and a clean, white washbowl waited in the back near shelves lined with labeled product jars and oils.

“Look who it is!”

Sanaa smiled as her stylist stepped out from behind the divider, wiping her hands on a black towel.

“Hey, Mya.”

Mya was all warmth. Full-bodied and fine, her energy came through in the smile first—slow, gentle, real—and then again in the waist beads peeking above the tie of her wide-leg lounge pants. Her curls were up in a puff today, earrings long, skin glowing.

“Come on in, baby. Go ahead and take your earrings and necklace off for me.”

Sanaa nodded, pulling off her hoops and sliding her necklace into her bag. She slipped into the chair while Mya set up her tools and dimmed the room a little more.

“Same as last time?” Mya asked, reaching for a cape.

“Yep. Washed, steamed, silk pressed. Just a little trim if it needs it.”

“Cool. Your hair’s been thriving,” she said, separating the curls gently at the root, “Still moisturizing?”

“Trying to.”

“You’re doing better than most,” Mya smiled, clipping sections loosely, “Let’s get you back for the wash.”

The water was warm. Not hot. Not rushed.

Sanaa leaned back and exhaled, letting her head rest fully in Mya’s palms as she started the first cleanse. The shampoo was gentle, minty, and soft on the scalp, stripping product but not moisture. The second wash came thicker, more lather. Then the steam. Mya slid the dome into place and added the moisture treatment, working it in with her fingertips.

“Let that sit for a second,” she said, stepping back.

Sanaa sat under the steamer, curls drenched in hydrating balm, eyes closed.

And that’s when it started.

“You Don’t Know My Name” by Alicia Keys began to play through the hidden speakers. Low and sweet, that piano rolling like it had a secret.

It took a second for it to hit her. But when it did—she blushed.

Hard.

She tried not to, but her body betrayed her. Her skin flushed warm under the steamer hood. Her mouth parted just slightly. The lyrics folded in around her.

Baby, baby, baby…from the day I saw you…I really, really wanna catch your eye…there’s something special ‘bout you…and I must really like you…‘cause not a lotta guys are worth not time, oh…oooh, baby, baby, baby…it’s getting kind of crazy…‘cause you are takin’ over my mind…

She thought of Erik. The way he looked at her when no one else was watching. The way his voice dropped when he said her name like it tasted better in his mouth. The way his grip felt under the table, unbothered, like he had all the time in the world to pull things from her without asking.

“You blushing.”

Sanaa opened her eyes. Mya stood beside her, brow cocked, towel slung over her shoulder.

“No I’m not,” Sanaa said quickly.

Mya smirked and tapped her temple, “I do hair, baby. I see everything. That was a blush.”

Sanaa sat up straighter as the steamer shut off.

“It’s some boy, ain’t it?”

Sanaa swallowed.

And then it hit her—his voice from yesterday. Low, quiet, right in her ear.

“I ain’t no boy.”

She pressed her thighs together instinctively. Then shook her head, lips curving into a private smile.

“Definitely not a boy.”

Mya laughed, “Mmmhmm. That’s the kind of energy I like to hear.”

Sanaa let herself laugh too, cheeks still warm. The steam treatment left Sanaa’s curls soft, bouncy, and supple under Mya’s touch.

“Alright,” Mya said, parting her hair into sections and grabbing the blow dryer attachment, “Let’s get this mane stretched.”

The tension method was familiar, comforting in its repetition. Warm air pulled through her roots as Mya worked section by section, holding her hair taut and running the dryer close without frying the strands. Sanaa sat quiet, her fingers resting in her lap, the weight of the day easing under the sound of the dryer and the scent of heat protectant mist.

“You ever seen a grown woman throw a shoe at a client?” Mya asked casually, parting another section.

Sanaa blinked, “Wait, what?”

“Mmhm,” Mya said, combing through the ends, “I’m talkin’ she was mid-retwist and that woman tried to argue her down about prices she’d already agreed to online.”

“No she didn’t!”

“Oh she did,” Mya said, eyes wide in the mirror, “Claimed she ain’t know the final price included styling, said she could’ve done it herself. I said, ‘Then why didn’t you?’”

Sanaa burst out laughing, nearly doubling in the chair. Mya grinned.

“Don’t mess with no Black woman’s time or her coins,” she said, “They think we just twisting hair we out here doing therapy, chemistry, precision, hospitality, and divine healing in one session.”

Sanaa nodded, “You need a whole degree to do this job.”

“Say that!!!”

They laughed, the room filling with that light, easy kind of warmth that only came from Black women sharing space and stories. Mya kept going, blowing out each section carefully, until Sanaa’s hair was full and fluffy, a crown of stretched softness resting around her face.

“You ready for the magic?” Mya said, turning on the flat iron.

Sanaa nodded, letting herself relax again.

The first pass was slow, controlled.

Mya moved like she was painting something. The comb chased each stroke of the iron, roots to ends, and that familiar little sizzle-pop filled the room as moisture smoothed into silk. The mirror reflected every shift—hair falling straight, shiny, weightless. She worked in silence for a bit, only breaking it to gossip about a girl she knew from hair school who was now making wigs for celebs but ghosting all her old clients.

“Soon as she did one reality star lacefront, she started charging a thousand dollars a unit and forgot we used to split vending machine snacks,” Mya muttered.

Sanaa laughed again, head tilted as the iron glided down another section. Once all the passes were done, Mya stood behind her and fluffed the ends lightly with her fingers.

“You see that length?” she said, holding the mirror up. “Don’t play with her!”

Sanaa smiled, surprised by how far down it reached, “Okay inches.”

“Let me clean up the ends a bit.”

Mya snipped lightly, just the bare minimum. No dramatics. Just a soft dusting of the ends before she flat ironed the perimeter again and began wrapping her hair in a smooth circle, section by section. Sanaa tilted her head obediently as Mya worked, letting her spin the silk press into a wrap before securing it with Saran Wrap. The plastic gleamed as it clung to her head.

“Alright, dryer time,” Mya said, motioning her toward the chair beneath the hooded dome.

Sanaa made her way over, curling up in the warm seat as Mya tucked her in and lowered the dryer down with a soft hum.

“You want water?” Mya asked.

“Yes, please.”

She returned with a chilled glass of cucumber water, fresh slices floating at the top. Sanaa sipped it slow, eyes soft, skin still tingling from the heat of the flat iron and the vibe of the whole room. Mya had just welcomed a new client, a girl with a thick curly afro coming in for a shape-up. 

Sanaa glanced at her phone, lifting it out of her bag.

One new message.

Erik: You need me to come pick you up?

Her stomach flipped.

She stared at the message for a second, then thumbed her reply.

Sanaa: Only if you’re not busy.

A few seconds passed.

Erik: When you gon’ be ready?

She glanced at the dryer timer.

Sanaa: About fifteen minutes.

Another short pause.

Erik: On my way.

She locked the screen slowly, set her phone down, and stared forward. The dome hummed softly around her, plastic wrap tight against her crown, cucumber water cool against her lips.

Late afternoon light sat low and honeyed over U Street, making everything glow just a little too pretty.

Erik was parked outside the strip of salon suites, blacked‑out truck idling, hoodie pulled up, locs loose and brushing his shoulders. Music played low through the speakers, bass barely there. He scrolled through his phone with one hand, posture relaxed in that way that never really meant relaxed.

Erik looked up.

And forgot how to breathe for half a second.

Sanaa stood there like she had nowhere to rush to. Hair freshly silk‑pressed, long and glossy, catching the light when she moved. It fell straight down her back, soft and expensive looking, framing her face just right. Her skin looked warm in the sun, brown and smooth, gloss shining on her lips. Erik hopped out and went around to open the door for her. She slid into the seat smooth, cardigan slipping off one shoulder, low‑rise jeans hugging her just right. 

“Thank you,” she said, buckling in.

Erik shut the door and leaned against the truck for a moment before getting in, eyes dragging over her slow, like he was committing details to memory.

“…This why you needed a ride?” he asked once he was behind the wheel.

She smiled, small and knowing, “Mmhmm. You like it?”

He swallowed, “Do. You tryna impress somebody?”

“Maybe I am.”

A beat passed.

“I’m hungry,” she added, like it was an afterthought.

What you want?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He shook his head, lips twitching, “You can never decide on nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

“Name one time.”

She laughed, turning toward him, “Don’t start.”

He pulled off, easing into traffic, “You want something quick or you wanna sit down?”

“I don’t know,” she said immediately.

“Exactly.”

She nudged his arm, “Okay, okay. What you got?”

“There’s a spot I been meaning to hit again,” he said, “You good with that?”

“Yeah. What place?”

He glanced at her, a half‑smile forming, “You’ll see.”

He didn’t take her to fast food.

Instead, he pulled into a quiet block off U Street and parked outside a small Black‑owned café tucked between a record shop and a nail salon. The sign was simple. Inside, jazz spilling from the building low, plates clinked, and hot sauce was already waiting on the table like it belonged there.

They slid into a booth across from each other.

Sanaa crossed one leg over the other, denim pulling just enough to make Erik’s eyes linger. Her hair swayed when she moved, smooth and straight, brushing her shoulder. Her lips caught the light every time she spoke.

“So,” she said, settling in, “What do you do when you’re not saving your sister from annoying boyfriend drama or pickin’ me up from salons?”

He smirked, “Can’t tell you all that.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward just a little, forearms on the table, “’Cause then I’d have to keep you close.”

She stared at him a second too long.

Then she laughed, shaking her head, “Please. I know you kill people for money. I ain’t scared of that part of you if that’s what you think.”

His eyes narrowed, not angry. Assessing. Like he was looking past what she said and straight into why she said it.

“Hmm,” he said quietly.

The food came out hot.

Fried catfish, collard greens glossy with pot liquor, cornbread steaming. Sanaa took one bite and closed her eyes without thinking, a soft sound slipping from her lips as she licked her fingers.

Erik looked away. Failed. Looked back.

“You eat like you just got outta prison,” she teased, smiling.

He chewed slow, “It’s been a minute since I sat down like this. Ain’t been home long.”

“Feels good, huh?”

“Real good.”

She watched him while he ate, chin resting on her hand.

“You smile more than I thought you would.”

His brows lifted, “That a compliment?”

“Mmhmm. You got a nice smile. Should let it out more.” She paused, then added lightly, “But don’t get soft on me. I know you still scary.”

He laughed.

Not a quiet one. A real laugh that came from his chest, head tipping back, dimples deepening, face opening up in a way that made Sanaa stare before she could stop herself.

He caught her looking.

They talked while they ate. About her psychology track. Pre‑med. Research labs and long nights. Her dream of clinical therapy. Opening a practice. Helping kids who fell through cracks nobody wanted to fix.

Then she asked him about MIT.

Engineering. An MBA. How his mind worked.

He hesitated, then started talking. About systems. About how things connected. About solving problems by breaking them apart. He got carried away, hands moving, voice warming, until he stopped and laughed when he saw her face.

“I lost you.”

She smiled, “A little. But I like hearing you talk.”

He dragged his tongue over his teeth to fight a smile but it failed. Sanaa gave her own smile in return. 

They talked about music. About Oakland. About Chocolate City. Feeling temporary and permanent at the same time.

The tension never left. It just sat there, patient.

After lunch, they drove in comfortable silence for a while.

Music low. City lights sliding past.

Sanaa rested her hand near the gear shift, fingers relaxed. Erik kept glancing over, trying not to make it obvious.

She caught him once.

“I got something on my face?”

He shook his head, “Nah. You just pretty as hell.”

Her smile was immediate. 

She shifted closer, fingers drifting to his free arm, tracing the faint lines of old scars while he drove one‑handed. She turned toward him, studying him openly now.

“You make me sick,” she said.

He chuckled, “Why?”

“Because you so damn fine.”

He laughed under his breath, tongue dragging across his lips before he could stop himself. His free hand settled on her thigh, warm and steady.

Her stomach flipped.

She stayed still. Played it cool. Failed internally.

They pulled up to the apartment.

Engine idled.

Neither of them moved.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said finally, “I ain’t gon’ call it a date.”

“Wasn’t one,” he said, smirking.

“Good. ’Cause if it was, that’d mean you tryna fuck your sister’s best friend.”

A pause.

Erik leaned back, eyes never leaving her, “And if I was?”

She opened the door, stepped out, then leaned back in just enough to let her hair brush the doorframe.

“Then you’d be playin’ with fire.”

The door shut.

Erik stayed there, watching her walk away, eyes glued to the sway of her hips all the way to the building.

And those bow legs.

Erik stayed in the truck for a long second after that. Engine still running. Hands on the wheel. Eyes fixed on the front of the building where Sanaa had disappeared.

Good. ’Cause if it was, that’d mean you tryna fuck your sister’s best friend.

The words replayed.

Bold.

Too bold for somebody who didn’t already know the answer.

Because the truth sat heavy and undeniable in his body right now. He did want to fuck her. Wanted it bad. Wanted it real good. It had been building for days in glances, silences, touches that lasted one second too long.

And the fact that she said it out loud like that did something to him.

Did more than tease.

It told him she was done dancing around it.

She wasn’t scared. Wasn’t pretending. Wasn’t playing coy. She wanted to see if he’d flinch.

He hadn’t.

Erik finally cut the engine and stepped out of the truck, body tight with restless energy. His dick was already hard, thick and heavy in his joggers, the kind of erection that came on slow and stayed. A deep ache at the base. Pressure pulling low in his gut. Heat that didn’t fade no matter how steady his breathing got.

That wasn’t just attraction.

That was hunger.

He walked inside the building, jaw set, sneakers hitting the floor. He wasn’t rushing. His body already knew where this was headed.

She knew too.

That little look she gave him before closing the door. The way she leaned in just enough to leave him wanting more. She wasn’t backing away from the fire she named.

She was daring him to step closer.

Erik pushed open the apartment door and stepped inside. The living room smelled faintly like food and citrus cleaner.

Normal.

Domestic.

The contrast made his pulse jump again.

He closed the door behind him and stood there for a second, letting the quiet settle. His joggers felt too tight now. Fabric stretched. His dick pressed thick against the seam, heavy and insistent, blood humming through it like it had a mind of its own.

He ran a hand over his face and exhaled slow.

You tired of teasing, he thought. And I’m tired of pretending.

Sister’s best friend or not. 

He wasn’t confused about what he wanted.

He walked down the hall and pushed into his room, shutting the door behind him with a firm click. The space was dark and familiar. Clean lines. Order. Control. He dropped his hoodie on the chair and rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing under the tension. The crotch of his joggers strained when he shifted his stance, and he hissed quietly through his teeth at the ache building low and steady. This wasn’t some quick spark. This was something that had been simmering. She wanted to know who she was dealing with.

Erik was done fighting the answer.

He sat on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on his thighs, head bowed slightly as he breathed through it. His dick stayed hard. Throbbing. Patient. Like it already knew it would get its turn.

Soon.

Sanaa wasn’t wrong.

Fire was exactly what this was. And he had never been the type to walk away from heat.

The first thing Sanaa heard when she stepped into Aaliyah’s room was—

“Bitchhh, let me see that hair!”

Sanaa grinned and did a slow spin, flipping the wrap off with a little dramatic flair.

Aaliyah squealed.

“Oh my goddd, look at you. You a baddie. A BADDIE.”

The room looked like a storm had blown through. Half-packed suitcases were open on the floor. Zip-up toiletry bags. Travel-size bottles everywhere. Clothes draped over the back of her chair, a couple heels on the desk. Aaliyah’s scholarship fellowship was taking her away in just a few days, and it showed in the chaos.

Sanaa stepped around a tote bag and adjusted her cardigan, “I do look good, huh?”

“You look fine as hell,” Aaliyah said, pulling her phone out to take a few pics, “Turn to the side. Wait—whip it back and forth first. That press is pressing. Mya did her thing.”

Sanaa rolled her eyes but smiled, posing for a few silly pics before flopping down on the edge of the bed, “You packin’ like you movin’ across the world,” she teased, eyeing the explosion of clothes on the floor.

“I basically am,” Aaliyah said, digging through a drawer, “Now help me find something cute to wear. Jordan’s takin’ me to dinner tonight, and I want something warm but still sexy. It’s supposed to get cold.”

She held up a knit midi dress—long sleeve, form-fitting, with a small open back, “This one?”

“Yup. That’s the one,” Sanaa said immediately, “Throw it on with them heeled boots and that little leather jacket. Done.”

Aaliyah nodded, satisfied, and set it aside, “Okay, bet. I just didn’t wanna freeze my ass off tryin’ to be fine.”

“You could wear a damn snowsuit and he’d still be pressed.”

“Shut up,” Aaliyah grinned. Then after a beat, “You think Erik gon’ get all protective again when Jordan pulls up?”

Sanaa leaned back on her hands, legs crossed, “I’ll keep him in check. Make sure he don’t embarrass you.”

“Please. Good luck with that.” Aaliyah smirked as she rifled through her jewelry pouch, “He been chillin’ lately, though. Ever since he got back.”

Sanaa said nothing. Just toyed with the little gold charm bracelet on her wrist. 

Then Aaliyah glanced up and her tone softened, “I hope he finds somebody one day. For real. Not just messin’ around.”

Sanaa looked up.

“Erik’s always been the type to hold stuff in. Act like he don’t care. But I know him. He do. He just don’t trust people like that. Never has. Never let himself be open to anybody… even when it’s right there.”

Sanaa swallowed and gave a small nod, letting the weight of that truth settle.

Aaliyah checked the time on her phone, “Lemme hop in the shower. He’ll be here soon.”

“Okay,” Sanaa said, standing and brushing invisible lint off her jeans, “Let me get out your way.”

Aaliyah disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. Sanaa walked back down the hall, quiet now. Her own heart a little too loud.

Sanaa padded softly down the stretch of wood floor, the pads of her feet soundless as she passed through Aaliyah’s door—closed now, with the faint sound of water running behind it. She paused for a second just past it, glancing down the hall where Erik’s door sat slightly ajar. Like a window someone forgot to close all the way. She crept closer, her pulse kicking up just a little as she reached the doorway and peeked inside. There he was. On the floor again. 

Back leaned against the edge of the bed, legs stretched out in front of him. Controller in hand. A tank top hugging that broad chest, thick arms on full display. Scars meticulously placed and beautiful. Locs loose, beard trimmed, jaw tight. The glow from the TV danced across his face, highlighting the furrow of his brow as he stared at the screen, fully locked in.

Trying to distract himself. Trying not to think about what she said in the truck.

Sanaa watched for a beat longer before knocking lightly on the frame. Once.

He didn't look up.

So she stepped in.

“You lost?” he asked finally, voice low and dry.

Still not looking her way.

Sanaa smirked, “Nah. Just bored.”

Then she did it—flopped onto his bed like it was hers. Like she’d done it a hundred times. Rolled onto her side, head propped up in her hand, watching him play. Erik’s eyes finally cut toward her, slow. He didn’t say a word. But something shifted in the room. 

Sanaa rolled onto her back, kicked her feet up, toes wiggling in the air, and stretched her arms behind her head like she had every right to be there. The mattress dipped under her weight, the slight creak traveling through Erik’s spine with every shift she made. His jaw tensed. He didn’t pause the game. But he felt her. The way she moved, settled in, got comfortable like it was her bed. Like she was used to that space. His fingers tightened around the controller. A missed combo got his character clipped in the corner, but he didn’t react. Just kept playing, eyes locked forward.

Sanaa’s eyes, meanwhile, scanned the room.

It was neat, but lived-in. Clean lines. The bed beneath her was plush and firm, sheets smooth and cool, and there was a faint scent that clung to the fabric—fresh laundry mixed with warm sandalwood and dark amber. Something masculine, deep, and rich. No candles or plugins, just him. It suited him. No-frills. A large matte-black trunk sat at the foot of the bed, secured with a serious-looking padlock. Heavy-duty. Not for show. His wardrobe was cracked open on one side. Inside, perfectly aligned hangers held neutral-toned hoodies, thermals, and fitted T-shirts, some folded military-style on the lower shelves next to a row of combat boots and sneakers. A duffel bag leaned against the wall, slightly unzipped, revealing a peek of cords, black gloves, and what looked like the butt of a flashlight. Or maybe something more. On the dresser, a small collection of colognes stood like soldiers—the good stuff. One bottle missing a cap. 

Sanaa smiled to herself.

Then, her gaze landed on the necklace draped across the corner of the nightstand. A thick gold Cuban link with a single pendant hanging from it. Not a cross. Not a dog tag.

A ring.

Made of silver with a lacquered black band split by a seam of matte dark gray. There was a faint shimmer in the metal—something rare. Something almost otherworldly.

She picked it up, testing the weight in her hand, “This real? Heavy as hell.”

His eyes flicked over, “Stop touchin’ shit.”

Sanaa snorted, rolling her eyes, still holding the chain, “Damn, okay.”

She let it clink back onto the table. Then looked over at him, eyes playful, “What you gonna do if I don’t?”

He didn’t answer.

But the way his shoulders squared and his grip tightened. She knew that was an answer all its own. Sanaa giggled and flopped over onto her stomach, arms bent, chin propped in her hands as she watched the screen. Her legs bent at the knees, feet lightly kicking in the air behind her. The movement shifted the bed again just enough to send another thrum of tension through Erik’s spine. She was close. Close enough for him to smell that faint trace of her hair products, sweet with hints of coconut and floral oil. Close enough to feel her laughter in the mattress when she chuckled again, shaking the whole damn bed like it wasn’t his and she didn’t need permission.

“Wait, what’s happening?” she asked, tilting her head, “So they just run back and forth and shoot?”

Erik sighed through his nose, “It’s 2K. Basketball. You watched a game before, right?”

“Yeah, but this part looks fake. He just shot from like, the damn parking lot. How the fuck is that possible?”

He tried to ignore the way her hips shifted with every bounce. The way the hem of her shirt rose ever so slightly when she moved. The way her thighs looked in those jeans.

Focus. Don’t break her back in. Aaliyah is still here. 

He kept his eyes forward, “The point of the game is to play to win, lil’ girl.”

Sanaa laughed, soft and bold, “Shut up. You actin’ real serious over fake hoops.”

“I’m ranked,” he said dryly, still focused.

“Ohhh, ranked,” she teased, dragging the word out. “’Scuse me.”

He tried not to feed into her antics. He shifted slightly, trying to find a better angle to both keep playing and not completely lose his focus. Then—a tug. One of her hands reached forward and gently pulled on a loc near his shoulder.

Erik sucked his teeth, low and sharp, “You tryna get popped in here?”

Sanaa laughed harder, “You too easy. Look at you.”

She tugged again, gentler this time, then let go and flopped back into place. He shook his head, biting back the grin. 

“Aaliyah’s going on a date tonight.”

That got him.

He paused the game.

Turned his head slightly, just enough to see her smirking like she knew he was gonna react.

“She just told you that?” he asked, voice calm but alert.

Sanaa shrugged, “Yup. Jordan’s pickin’ her up. She’s been stressin’ about what to wear.”

Erik gave a dry chuckle, picking the controller back up, “He come thru actin’ weird, I’ma jack the lil’ nigga up.”

Sanaa rolled her eyes, “You doin’ too much.” 

“Nah. Don’t think I don’t hear the shit she say about him when she think I’m not listenin’. Got one more time to show his hand wrong and I’ma break it.”

“She got it handled,” Sanaa said, stretching a little, her body curving with the movement, “And honestly, she’s the one in charge. You seen the way she be talkin’ to him?”

Erik grunted, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Yeah. I believe it.”

She leaned in closer, her body still stretched across his bed like she belonged there. Her voice dipped lower—sly, smooth, like she was about to confess something just for him.

“What you thinkin’ bout doing when Aaliyah leaves?”

That question wrapped around him. He didn’t answer right away. His thumb lifted off the joystick. The screen froze mid-dribble. He turned slightly, eyes on her now. That same look he’d had earlier when she stepped out the salon—but darker. Steady. Unblinking.

Heat spread through his chest. Down.

“What I’m doin’?” he said, voice low. “Why? You tryna find out what I’m on?”

Sanaa didn’t back down. Just held his gaze, smiling like she wasn’t the one playing with fire.

“Maybe.”

He looked at her a beat longer. Took in the way she was laid out, chin in her hands, lips too glossy, shirt hugging her back just right. Then he leaned back against the bed again, chuckling to himself like he didn’t need to let that tension crawl through his bloodstream.

“You bold as hell today,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Sanaa’s legs swayed behind her, “And?”

He cut his eyes at her, “Keep pushin’, I’ma show you what that get you.”

She grinned, “Is that a threat, Killmonger?”

“Nah.” His voice dropped deeper, “That’s a promise, baby girl.” 

Sanaa licked her lips, barely noticeable. But he caught it.

“You actin’ like you really gon’ do somethin’,” she teased.

He set the controller down.

“You think I won’t?”

Silence fell for a second too long. Her lashes fluttered. Her smirk flickered. He leaned forward just slightly, elbows on his knees, voice quieter now but with that same pull that always sat heavy between them.

“You been testin’ me since you got in my truck.”

Another beat.

“Since you flipped that hair, gave me that look like you knew what you was doin’. Walkin’ ‘round here like you don’t know how damn pretty you are.”

The tip of her tongue sat between her teeth. Teasing. 

“Just say the word,” he said, eyes locking on hers again, “And I’ll show you what the fuck I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout.”

Sanaa looked at him, breath held somewhere in her chest, unsure whether to smile or stay still. But he could see it. She wanted it too. Erik exhaled slow. Reached for the controller again, but didn’t press play. Instead, he said it real soft spoken. So low she had to lean closer to catch it.

“Keep actin’ like you wanna be mine and see what happen.”

She’d made herself comfortable. Real comfortable. Now she was laying sideways across his bed, one leg bent, the other stretched out, her phone held above her face while she scrolled. Every so often, her foot would brush against his side. Bare skin, soft and warm, grazing the outside of his thigh just enough to light his nerves up. Erik tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the game again—shoulders hunched forward, elbows on his knees, both thumbs tapping away like he actually cared about the outcome. But the more he tried not to notice her, the more his senses betrayed him.

The scent hit first. Candied pear. Rock sugar. That same vanilla cream sweetness she always carried. Lingering in the air, on his sheets, his pillows, his shirt where she’d leaned too close.

It was fucking with his head.

Every time he scored, she clapped once, all fake praise and teasing smirks.

“Oop, look at you,” she giggled, “MVP.”

He side-eyed her hard, “You a damn distraction.”

Sanaa glanced up from her phone with the most innocent face he’d seen yet, “Me? I’m just watchin’ you play.”

“You doin’ a lot more than watchin’.”

“I’m bein’ good.”

“You ain’t never been good. Not since I got back.” 

She let out a little fake gasp and sat up slightly, that glossed mouth curving into something too smug.

“You tryna say I’m bad?” she asked, voice sweet.

“I’m sayin’ you trouble,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen, jaw flexing.

Sanaa stretched like a cat. One arm lifted above her head, her shirt rising just enough to show a peek of waist. That damn waist. Then she flopped back down, this time a little closer, the curve of her hip brushing his arm. He didn’t move.

“You always so serious when you play?” she asked, chin tilted up, lashes fanned.

“’Cause I play to win.”

“Well damn,” she smirked, “Remind me not to challenge you in anything.”

He paused the game again.

“Anything?” he asked, voice low.

Sanaa’s eyes flicked over to him, “Mmhm.”

He gave a slow nod, tongue pressed to his cheek.

“Bet.”

Her fingers tapped the screen like nothing was going on, like she couldn’t feel the way he was watching her out the corner of his eye. Like she didn’t know her scent was buried in his mattress, in his senses. He turned back to the screen. Pressed play. But this time, still couldn’t focus for shit. Not with her laying there playing innocent and sweet and testing every ounce of discipline he had left.

She yawned. Stretched.

Arms over her head, back arched, her shirt lifting just enough to flash more of that pretty brown skin and the faint dip of her waist. The fabric clung when it settled—nipples puckered beneath the cotton, mouth parting in a soft exhale like she meant to nap right there in his damn bed. Erik looked over. And stayed looking. His hands twitched. Teeth clenched. The flick of her stomach. The press of her chest. The way her chest rose  like she was begging him to peeled that tiny ass shirt off. It was all too much. Erik cleared his throat, then hit the power button on the controller with too much force that he almost jammed the button. 

Click.

The screen went black. The room darkened. Minus the hallway light filtering in from the hall. 

“Aight,” he muttered, voice low, “Game over.”

Sanaa rolled onto her side, lifting her head, “You kickin’ me out?”

His eyes cut to her, jaw tight, “Before I do something I ain’t supposed to.”

She stilled. Looked at him. Then, she stood like she had all the time in the world.

“You already did,” she said softly, “You let me in.”

The words lingered like heat in the air. Erik’s stare held. Burned.

Sanaa tilted her head, “That stare supposed to scare me?”

He stepped forward, voice dark, “Supposed to shut you up. Remind you who you talkin’ to.” 

Her mouth curved, “Try harder.”

His nostrils flared, “You need to sit your ass down somewhere.”

She didn’t flinch at that threat. Just shifted her weight and said, “Make room then.”

That smug ass smirk was still teasing the corner of her lips when she added, soft, like a question she already knew the answer to—

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

He stared harder. Voice low, “You need to chill. You gettin’ bold.”

Sanaa shrugged, “Maybe bold just looks different when it’s just me and you.”

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“Yeah, don’t get quiet now,” she whispered.

“Ain’t shit to say,” he muttered.

She leaned in, lashes low, “That ever stop you before?”

His hand flexed. Once. Twice.

“Whatever’s in your head,” Erik warned, “don’t say it.”

Sanaa blinked up at him, voice honey-soft, “What? How bad I want you?”

“Sanaa…”

One word. Weighted. Dangerous.

She smiled like it ain’t faze her, “You act like I bother you.”

“You do.”

“Then stop lettin’ me in.” A beat. “If you don’t want me in here, say so.”

Erik didn’t move. Didn’t blink, “I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

Sanaa rolled her eyes, “You slow.”

“Why you still standin’ there?” he asked, voice lower.

“Why you still lookin’ at me like that?” Her head tilted, lips parted, “Like you wanna do something to me.” She said with a whiny voice. 

He stepped forward, shoulders squared, eyes dragging over her like he’d already touched every inch.

“…That sound like you tryna break the rules,” he whispered.

Sanaa smirked, “I don’t like closed doors.”

“You tryna be funny?”

“Are you laughin’?”

She sat back on the edge of the bed, thighs spreading just slightly, back arched, looking up at him with that wide-eyed, innocent face she wore like armor.

“What?” she said, “I’m just sittin’ here.”

Erik’s voice dipped into something quiet. Tight.

“That’s the problem.”

They were eye-fucking each other in silence, the heat between them damn near visible. Then—he chuckled. Exhaled sharp. Looked away. Turned his head to the side like he was about to let her go. Then looked back. Voice rough.

“You lucky I ain’t show up in your room last night.”

Sanaa blinked. 

His eyes raked down her body. Then climbed back up, “Playin’ in your pussy? Sayin’ my name?” he whispered, “Disrespectful.”

Sanaa’s lips parted. The breath left her in a slow stutter. Her thighs pressed together tight, mouth slightly open. That heat bloomed everywhere—her neck, her chest, between her legs. She looked at him, dragged her eyes down—over his shoulders, his chest, the way his muscles sat beneath that tank. And then she saw it. The weight of him. Thick and heavy in those joggers. Her breath hitched. Heart stuttered. She couldn’t stop staring. Then—

“Ayo, Sanaa!”

Aaliyah’s voice rang out from down the hall.

Sanaa jumped. Snatched her eyes away, “C-Coming!”

She turned quick. Damn near stumbled. Then rushed out the room like the walls were closing in behind her. Erik didn’t move. He just stood there, heart pounding, dick hard.

She lucky. Real lucky.

[midnightmemoirsofher]

The Adult Emporium

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Syn (Black OC)

Series Title: Sweet Girls Don’t Stay Sweet

Summary: Fresh from her sexual awakening, Syn decides it's time for a field trip. With a mix of wide-eyed innocence and newfound boldness, she convinces Erik to take her to a sex shop for the first time. What follows is a hilarious, heartwarming, and slightly awkward adventure as her sheltered upbringing collides with the wall-to-wall reality of dildos and BDSM gear. Erik, the proud and supportive boyfriend, navigates the chaos, making a few secret purchases of his own along the way.

Warnings: Fluffy comedic smut, established relationship, explicit sexual content, humor, sex shop exploration, naive OC, dirty talk, and a whole lot of loving, educational fun.

The low, rhythmic thump of Erik’s dumbbells was the only sound in the living room, a steady counterpoint to the quiet hum of the city outside. A few days had passed since the "Grocery Store Incident," as Syn had dubbed it, and the memory still hung in the air between them, a mix of mortification and raw, unbridled lust. He was mid-bicep curl, the muscles in his arm straining, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his dark skin, when he heard it.

It was a soft, sharp gasp, followed by a muffled giggle. He knew that sound. It was the sound of Syn discovering something new, something that existed just outside the carefully constructed world she’d been raised in.

He lowered the weight, his eyes finding her on the couch. She was curled up, her legs tucked beneath her, her laptop perched on her knees. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the wide, curious expression in her dark eyes and the slight parting of her full lips. She was a vision of caramel-colored skin and athletic, slim-thick curves, a perfect blend of softness and strength, and she was his.

He understood her in a way no one else could. He knew that her wide-eyed innocence wasn't a sign of ignorance, but a testament to her upbringing. Her father, a pastor, and her mother, a traditional stay-at-home mom, had homeschooled her in a world of Bible study, community potlucks, and firm, clear-cut rules about morality. She wasn't ignorant of the mechanics of sex—she knew the basics—but the world of kink, toys, and exploration was as foreign to her as another planet. She was, by all accounts, vanilla. But now, with him, she was ready to see what other flavors were out there.

She finally closed the laptop, her movements slow and deliberate. She looked over at him, her eyes wide and earnest, a nervous energy radiating from her.

“Erik…” she started, her voice a soft, hesitant whisper. “Can we go to a sex shop?”

He stopped mid-bicep curl, the dumbbell frozen in mid-air. He wasn't shocked, not really. He’d been expecting this, or something like it, ever since she’d confidently told him she did her "research." But he was immediately in protective mode. He set the weight down, his eyes searching hers.

“You sure, baby?” he asked, his voice a low, gentle rumble. “It can be… a lot.” He remembered her sheltered past, the world she’d come from, and he wanted to make sure she was truly ready, that this was her desire and not some pressure she felt to be something she wasn't.

She nodded, her expression unwavering. “I just… I want to see them. In person. Not just on a screen.” She looked down at her hands, then back up at him, her eyes full of a trust that was both humbling and terrifying. “It’s for… educational purposes.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, a deep, booming sound that was full of affection and a profound sense of déjà vu. He remembered her sitting on his kitchen counter, swinging her legs, and telling him the same thing about Pornhub.

“Alright,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll go.” He’d follow her into the depths of hell if she asked, especially when she looked at him with those big, trusting eyes, as the man who was helping her discover a whole new world.

The parking lot of "The Adult Emporium" was bathed in the unforgiving glare of a single, buzzing floodlight, casting long, distorted shadows across the cracked asphalt. It wasn't the seedy, back-alley establishment Erik had frequented in his youth, hidden in the dark corners of the city. This was different. This was clean, well-lit, and located in a strip mall next to a Petco and a tax preparation service. The sign, a simple, no-frills affair in bold, block letters, was almost clinical in its presentation. It was less a den of iniquity and more a warehouse of sin, and the sheer, commercial normality of it all made the whole thing even funnier and more absurd.

Erik cut the engine, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the low thrum of the city. He looked over at Syn, who was staring out the window, her eyes wide with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. She was a bundle of nervous energy, her hands fidgeting in her lap, her knee bouncing up and down.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice a low, gentle rumble.

She took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I think so."

He got out of the car, rounding the front to open her door. He took her hand, his fingers lacing with hers, his touch a grounding, reassuring presence. He was her protector, her guide, the man who was about to lead her into a whole new world.

"Just stick with me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "We look, we laugh, we buy whatever you want. No pressure."

He’d been to places like this before, back when he was younger and more curious, driven by a need that was more about exploration than emotion. But being here with her—his pastor's-kid girlfriend, his sweet, innocent Syn—was a completely different, more profound experience. This wasn't just about satisfying a physical urge; it was about supporting her journey, about being the man who held her hand as she stepped out of the carefully constructed world she’d been raised in and into the bright, fluorescent-lit reality of her own desires.

He squeezed her hand, a silent promise of his unwavering support, and led her toward the entrance. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and they stepped inside, leaving the world behind.

The moment they stepped inside, the world shifted. The cool, recycled air hit them, carrying with it the faint, sterile scent of plastic and latex. It was bright, almost blindingly so, with rows of fluorescent lights humming overhead. And then she saw it.

The Wall of Dicks.

It was a floor-to-ceiling display that dominated the entire back wall of the store, a kaleidoscopic mosaic of dicks in every shape, size, color, and material imaginable. There were giant, black ones that looked like they belonged on a pedestal in a modern art museum. There were small, glittery ones that looked like they’d been dipped in fairy dust. There were ones that glowed in the dark, ones that were shaped like dolphins, and ones that were so anatomically detailed they were almost terrifying.

Syn stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and fascination. Erik squeezed her hand, a silent, reassuring gesture, but she was already gone, lost in a world of silicone and rubber.

She drifted toward the wall, her movements slow and dreamlike, like a pilgrim approaching a sacred shrine. She reached out, her fingers hovering over a massive, neon-pink dildo that was as thick as her wrist. It was veiny and ridged, a cartoonish caricature of the real thing.

“Why is it so… bumpy?” she asked, her voice a soft, awestruck whisper. “Is the texture for… grip?”

Erik had to physically turn away, his shoulders shaking with a suppressed laugh. He took a deep breath, composing himself before turning back to her. “Something like that, baby.”

She moved on, her curiosity insatiable. She found a small, egg-shaped vibrator, no bigger than her thumb, sitting in a display case. She picked it up, holding it in the palm of her hand.

“And this?” she asked, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Is this… for your eggs? Like, does it help you ovulate?”

That was it. Erik couldn't hold it in anymore. He let out a loud, booming laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet store. Syn looked at him, her cheeks flushed, a playful pout on her lips.

“What? I’m serious!”

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, his voice still thick with laughter. “It’s a vibrator. For… you know. For fun.”

Her tour of discovery continued, leading them into a section dedicated to harnesses and… attachments. She picked up a complex-looking contraption of leather straps and metal buckles, holding it up against her hips like a foreign piece of armor.

“Okay, I’m confused on the logistics of this one,” she said, her brow furrowed in concentration as she held up the complex-looking harness. “Is the… person wearing this… the one who gets the feeling? Or is it just for… show?”

Erik cleared his throat, the sound a little too loud in the quiet store. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck. This was a conversation he never thought he’d be having in the middle of a brightly-lit sex shop, but for her, he’d do anything.

“Alright, so,” he started, his voice a low, patient rumble. He took the harness from her, his fingers brushing against hers. “The person wearing it, they don’t really feel… the main event. The feeling is for the other person.”

He paused, trying to find the right words, the least clinical way to explain a very non-clinical act. “It’s… a tool. For penetration. Some women, they use ‘em on their girlfriends. You know, for when they want to… be in charge. Or just for a different kind of feel.”

He watched her process this, her expression a mixture of curiosity and dawning comprehension. He decided to keep going, to give her the full picture.

“And some guys…” he continued, his voice dropping a little, his gaze becoming more intense. “Some guys like their girlfriends to use it on ‘em. It’s called pegging. They like the… role reversal. The feeling of being… You know.”

He looked her dead in the eye, his expression leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I’m not one of ‘em,” he said, his voice a low, firm statement of fact. “Just so we’re clear. I like my dick, and I like bein’ in charge. But that’s just me. To each their own.”

Syn’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of understanding—and maybe a little bit of relief—in their depths. She nodded slowly, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Duly noted,” she said, her voice a soft, teasing purr. “Good to know.”

Erik just shook his head, a small, amused smile tugging at his own lips. He was in so much trouble.

Her curiosity then led them into a darker section, the walls painted a deep, moody purple, the lighting dimmer. This was the BDSM corner.

She picked up a pair of fluffy, pink handcuffs, the soft, faux fur a stark contrast to the cold, metal chains hanging nearby. “These are so cute!” she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine delight. “Are they less… strong?” She then pointed to a sleek, black riding crop hanging on the wall. “And this… is it for… horses? Or… people-horses?”

Erik just closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the next wave of questions. He was proud of her, so proud of her for being brave enough to ask, for stepping so far outside the carefully constructed world she’d been raised in. But he was also, admittedly, a little terrified.

Her final stop was a display of anal beads. She picked up a string of them, the smooth, silicone spheres connected by a flexible, sturdy cord. She held them up to the light, the soft overhead glow catching the gentle curve of each bead, making them look like a string of dark, exotic pearls.

“Are these… for decoration?” she asked, her voice full of genuine wonder. “They’re kinda pretty.”

Erik just smiled, his heart swelling with a love so big it was almost painful. He was the luckiest man in the world. He took the string from her, his fingers brushing over the smooth, cool silicone.

“They’re not for decoration, baby,” he said, his voice a low, intimate rumble. “Though I guess you could say they’re for… decorating the inside.”

He saw her brow furrow in confusion, and he knew he had to explain. He had to be the one to introduce her to this, to be her guide.

“They’re for… back there,” he said, his voice dropping a little, his gaze becoming more intense. He gestured vaguely toward her backside, his movements subtle and respectful. “For your ass.”

Syn’s eyes widened, a flicker of shock and curiosity in their depths. She didn’t pull away, didn't look disgusted. She just listened, her trust in him absolute.

“You… you put ‘em in, one by one,” he continued, his voice a low, hypnotic murmur. “Slowly. It’s a different kind of feeling. A buildup. Each bead stretches you, fills you, and then… when you’re ready… You pull ‘em out. All at once, or one by one. It’s supposed to be… intense. A different kind of orgasm.”

He watched her process this, her mind working, her imagination running wild. He could see the flicker of interest in her eyes, the spark of a new, untapped desire.

“We don’t have to,” he was quick to add, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Ever. It’s just… another option. Another flavor to try. If you want.”

Syn just nodded, her eyes still wide with wonder. She looked from the beads in his hand back to his face, a slow, shy smile spreading across her lips. The world was a big, scary, and wonderfully weird place, and with him by her side, she was ready to explore all of it.

After the initial shock and wonder of the Wall of Dicks, a new kind of confidence began to bloom in Syn. The initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a wide-eyed, almost giddy curiosity. She was like a kid who’d just been let loose in the world’s strangest, most adult candy store, and Erik was her proud, slightly terrified, and incredibly turned-on chaperone.

With a newfound sense of purpose, she grabbed a small, black shopping basket from a stack near the entrance. The moment she hooked it over her arm, the game changed. This was no longer a fact-finding mission; it was a shopping spree.

Erik leaned against a display of novelty condoms, his arms crossed over his chest, content to just watch her roam. He loved seeing her like this—uninhibited, playful, her mind open to all the possibilities the world had to offer. Her every move was a testament to the trust she had in him, a trust that made his chest ache with a fierce, protective love.

Her first stop was the "oral enhancements" section. She picked up a bottle of strawberry-flavored deep throat spray, holding it up to the light as if examining a fine wine. "For my gag reflex," she explained to him with a completely straight face, before dropping it into her basket with a decisive thump.

Next, she was drawn to the wall of restraints. She bypassed the fluffy pink handcuffs she'd admired earlier and went straight for a pair of sleek black metal ones with a fluffy faux-fur lining. "These look more serious," she said, testing the weight of them in her hand. Then she grabbed a matching set of ankle cuffs. "And these… for when you're feeling extra possessive." She winked, and Erik had to adjust himself in his sweats subtly.

She then ventured into the section he hadn't dared lead her to: the DVD aisle. She browsed the titles with a critical eye, her head tilted. "The Mandingo Massacre?" she read aloud, her nose wrinkled. "That sounds… aggressive." But then she found one with a more romantic cover, a title about a couple exploring a BDSM club. "This one," she said, adding it to her growing collection. "More research."

The grand finale was the costume section. It was a riot of cheap polyester and unrealistic fantasy. She was in heaven. She grabbed a classic "naughty nurse" outfit, complete with a tiny white dress and a stethoscope. "For when you're feeling… under the weather," she teased. Then she found a "sexy police officer" costume, complete with a cropped top and a ridiculously short skirt. "And this… for when you're breaking the law." She even found a fluffy, white bunny tail and a set of ears. "And this… because it's cute."

Erik watched her. He was so proud of her, so turned on by her adventurous spirit. He didn't care how much it cost. He would buy her the entire damn store if it meant seeing that look of joy on her face. She was his baby girl, and he would give her the world. Hell, if she said she wanted to buy her own sex shop, then he would make it happen.

Finally, her shopping spree seemed to be winding down. Her basket was overflowing, a chaotic jumble of silicone, polyester, and pure, unadulterated curiosity. She walked up to the counter, a look of pure, triumphant glee on her face, and began to unload her treasures.

The cashier, a bored-looking woman with intricate tattoos snaking up her arms and a septum piercing, watched with an expression of profound indifference. She’d seen it all.

Syn started by emptying the basket, creating a mountain of goodies on the counter. The deep throat spray, the black metal handcuffs, the ankle cuffs, the "naughty nurse" and "sexy police officer" costumes, the fluffy bunny ears and tail, and the educational DVD about the BDSM club. Each item was placed on the counter with a sense of accomplishment, a trophy from her grand expedition.

Then, from her pocket, she produced a few more items she'd been holding onto. And then, with a final, dramatic flourish, she pulled out the box containing the sex swing. Erik’s eyes widened. He had no idea where she’d been hiding that thing.

After her grand display, she seemed to remember her original mission. She zeroed in on the wall of male toys, her eyes scanning the display until she found what she was looking for. She picked out a simple, sleek, black silicone cock ring, holding it up to him.

"For you," she said, her voice soft but full of intent. "I wanna see what it does."

Erik’s heart swelled with a love so big it was almost painful. He was so proud of her. He led her to a section with more advanced toys, his hand resting on the small of her back. He picked out a pair of delicate, adjustable nipple clamps with a little chain connecting them, the silver metal glinting under the fluorescent lights.

"For you," he said, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "I think you'd look beautiful in these."

While Syn was distracted, cooing over a small, bullet vibrator, Erik made his move. He casually reached back to the counter where she had been examining the anal beads and grabbed the string of silicone beads she had called "pretty." He also grabbed a couple of light-up, glowing ones, a playful, secret addition to their growing pile. A surprise for a later date.

Finally, they were ready. Syn stood on her tiptoes to place the last item—the cock ring—on top of the mountain of goodies. The cashier didn't even blink, her face a mask of professional boredom. She started scanning, her movements efficient and practiced.

Erik pulled out his wallet, his eyes fixed on Syn, who was practically vibrating with excitement next to him. He didn't even spare a glance for the mountain of goodies the cashier was scanning.

He was so proud of her. So damn proud of the woman she was becoming. He remembered the shy, hesitant girl who had blushed just talking about Pornhub research, and now here she was, confidently buying a sex swing and enough leather to outfit a small dominatrix gang. It was a transformation he felt honored to witness, a journey he was privileged to be a part of.

He reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes softening as she looked up at him, the playful excitement momentarily replaced by a deep, abiding love.

"You having fun, baby?" he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that was just for her.

She nodded, her smile radiant. "This is the best field trip ever."

He chuckled, a deep, affectionate sound. He couldn't wait to get her home, to unwrap all their new toys, and to start their next lesson. But for now, he was content to just stand here, basking in the glow of her happiness, the proudest man in the whole damn world.

Back in the car, the air was thick with a giddy, electric energy. The large, black shopping bag sat on the back seat, a treasure chest of silicone, polyester, and possibility. The city lights blurred past the windows, a smear of color in the dark, but neither of them was looking outside. They were too wrapped up in each other and the promise of the night to come.

Syn was buzzing, her words tumbling out in a happy, excited rush. “I can’t believe I touched a real-life riding crop, Erik. And did you see the bunny tail? And the sex swing… where are we even going to hang it? The living room? The bedroom? Oh my god, what if we hang it on the balcony?”

Erik just drove, a slow, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He was listening to her, his heart full, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. It was drifting, wandering down a deliciously dirty path. He was imagining her, bent over his lap, her caramel skin flushed and glistening with sweat. He could almost feel the weight of her, the soft curve of her ass against his thighs. He imagined taking one of those pretty, glowing anal beads. He pictured himself working it into her, slowly, inch by inch, watching her body arch and tremble as he filled her, the soft glow from the bead a beacon in the dark, intimate space between them. The thought was so vivid, so powerful, it made his dick twitch.

Meanwhile, Syn’s own thoughts had taken a similarly filthy turn. She was no longer thinking about the logistics of the sex swing. She was thinking about the sleek, black cock ring in the bag. She imagined him, laid out on their bed, his dick hard and waiting. She pictured herself sliding the ring over him, the soft silicone stretching to accommodate his girth. She imagined the way it would look, the way it would feel, the way it would make him thicken and harden even more. And then she imagined him fucking her, not on the bed, but in their new swing, her body suspended in mid-air, completely at his mercy, his powerful strokes driving her wild.

They pulled into their garage, the sudden darkness swallowing their car. Erik cut the engine, the silence that followed thick with unspoken desire. He turned to her, his eyes dark and heavy with promise.

“So,” he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “You ready for your next lesson?”

Syn’s smile was slow, seductive, and full of wicked intent. “Professor,” she purred, her voice a whisper. “I’ve been ready since we left the store.”

He was on her in a heartbeat, his mouth crashing down on hers, a hungry, demanding kiss that tasted of laughter, love, and the promise of a night they would never forget. The treasure chest of toys could wait. Right now, all they needed was each other.

 @blyffe @transparentphantomface @daddysmoke @championshipshade @christinabae @og-goddesstrill @writingsbytee @bananajoeclone @psychicafrorainbow @blowmymbackout @storiesbyasl  @bananajoeclone @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @nayys-world @monstaxmomma0 @kimmiedream @hotebonynearby @underated345-blog @xeniaonvenus @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kindofaintrovert @mmbee675 @bestleowoman2exist

[writingsbytee]

I really wanna read / write an angst breakup get back together smut. But with who Erik or Terry??

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine Part Five

More freak nasty Erik and Y/N!!!!

I know yall have been waiting a while for the to be updated and I’m sorry it took forever. Enjoy Erik nasty ass, fine ass self and how much Y/N deserves all that good D 💦🍆 LET ME KNOW IF YA’LL TIRED OF THIS YET! 

Warnings: SMUT. smut…smut…smut…and fluff 🥰

PART ONE  PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

Keep reading

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Say My Name

Summary: He's supposed to be laying low. A job overseas went bloody, and Erik Stevens-Black Ops Mercenary, Ghost of the U.S. Government-needs to go quiet. He crashes at his little sister's place near Howard University in Chocolate City. But when he arrives, there's a surprise: she's got a roommate. Her Best Friend. She's grown since he last saw her. Grown in all the ways that test a man's self control. But Erik? He's never been good at following the rules...

Warnings: Age Gap Romance/ Forbidden Attraction/ Explicit Sexual Content (strong smut, oral sex, size kink, erotic praise, power exchange)/Slow Burn to Filthy/Obsession & Possessiveness/Sexual Tension in Shared Spaces/Mutual Voyeurism/Sexting/Emotional Denial/Resistance/Breeding Talk/Male Dom / Female Sub Dynamic

Part Six

Things felt too quiet after the way Erik came in her mouth. 

Sanaa wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then she reached for her phone like she was checking the time instead of ending a man’s night with a single press. Nathan was still talking about dinner reservations when she tapped the screen and ended the call. Her breath floated softly between them—warm and slow—kneeling between his legs like she was posing. 

A tiny wet strand of spit clung to her bottom lip. The taste of his cum still on her tongue. Sanaa didn’t bother to fix it. 

She lifted the phone and tilted her chin slightly. The glow of the screen lit her skin, her tank top, her thighs on the rug, the shin on her mouth and chin. She pulled up her camera app, her other hand wrapping around Erik’s spit-covered dick, bringing it closer to her mouth. Tongue poked out, a quick shutter flashed. Sanaa saved it. 

Erik sat back against the sofa like he’d been dropped there like a sack of potatoes. His chest rose and fell with uneven pulls. His taunt abdomen kept tightening further and relaxing like it hadn’t caught up with the rest of his body. Erik looked down at Sanaa the way a man looks at something he should deny himself of but knows he never will. His thighs were still spread wide, his dick lay heavy and twitching against the palm of her hand. Softer now but still thick enough to make her smile. 

Sanaa finally released her grip around his girth and stood slowly. Not completely. Just enough to lean in close. She braced one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on his thigh. Her mouth slick and looking slicker like she wanted him down her throat again. Her sparse faux lashes framed her eyes in that soft yet dangerous way that he wouldn’t have imagined seeing. 

Sanaa peeked down the hallway. 

Silent. Dark. Safe.

Her voice dropped low, “You almost gave us away there, Erik.” 

He blinked once. Slow. His jaw clenching again. That look he got when he wanted to say something but didn’t trust what might come out. 

Sanaa eased closer. Her breath brushed his cheek. Her lips curved.

“You want us getting caught?” 

She said it like a dare. Like a challenge. Like she was testing his restraint. It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t innocent. Not anywhere close to the sweet girl Nathan thought he was talking to. 

Sanaa’s mouth hung open just a little as she watched him, letting the shine on her pouty bottom lip to catch the faint glow of the TV. Her throat still tasted like him. She let that knowledge sit between them, thick as the air he was pulling in slow through his nose. 

His eyes stayed on her face. His mouth shut. Then, his eyes dropped down her neck, then lower, stopping at the faint smear of spit or maybe his cum on her chin. Something dark settled in Erik’s gaze. Something quiet and dangerous. Something he tried to hide most days. Unless he was provoked.

And she was provoking him.

Erik finally sat up. Only a little. His shoulders pulled forward. His hands rested on his knees like he was trying to remember what his body was supposed to be doing. Erik didn’t touch her. The way he looked at her felt like a grip. 

Sanaa straightened up a little more, not backing away. Not apologizing for her antics. Her fingers brushed the top of her tank just above her cleavage. Just enough for Erik to notice. 

“You liked that, didn’t you.” She spoke faintly. Not a question, more like she already knew the answer.

Erik’s eyes narrowed. He licked his lips and finally spoke.

“You really think you safe right now?” His voice came out low. Almost calm. Too calm. 

Sanaa’s smile widened. Pretty. Sweet on the surface. Dangerous underneath.

“I know I am.” 

Sanaa lifted and stepped back only enough to give herself space to walk. She turned her back to him, the soft sway of her hips carrying her towards the hallway. Her shorts rode up with every step. She didn’t fix them. She never fixed anything when she wanted him to focus on her. To watch. 

Halfway down the hall, Sanaa paused. She stood there, one hand resting on the wall, the strap of her tank sliding down her shoulder. Then, she turned her head. Eyes heavy. Lashes low an teasing. 

“You look like you gon’ come get me.” 

Erik stared at her from the sofa, his chest rising too fast now, his forearms flexed where he braced them on his thighs. He didn’t answer her. His whole body was already telling her he planned to do just that. 

She let a small sound slip from her throat. Almost like a whimper. Or maybe a soft whine. Pleased none the less. 

“Good.” 

She pushed off the wall an slipped into her bedroom, closing the door just enough for a thin line of warm light to stay visible.

Erik remained on the sofa, breathing hard, staring at the crack of light like it was pulling him forward by the collar. His jaw flexed again. One hand reached up to drag down his face slow and rough. A soft curse pushed out of him

“Fuck.” 

Erik leaned back, tried to get himself under control. 

Failed.

Because all he could see was the shine of her pretty mouth. The way she sucked him down. The look in her eyes while she was on her knees between his legs. Her throat opening around him. 

Erik sat there for a long moment, fists tight, chest rising. 

Then, he stood. It wasn’t fast. 

He knew exactly where he was about to go. And who he was going for. 

Erik waited only long enough to make sure Aaliyah’s door remained shut. Once he was certain, he moved. Quiet. Direct. No hesitation in his strides. The hallway felt narrow for how he was breathing. Almost claustrophobic. 

He finally reached Sanaa’s door, pushing it open with two fingers. 

The sight hit him like a jab to the gut. 

Sanaa stood in the middle of her room, back turned towards him, the hem of her tank sliding up her waistline as she peeled it over her head. Her hips looked soft enough to bite into. And that ass in those little shorts? She kicked those off gently, leaving a pair of cheeky, dark green panties on. Just bare enough to tempt him. Enough to let him know she was waiting for exactly this. 

Sanaa bent forward a little like she was reaching for something on her bed. That ass lifted. Her thighs parted slightly. It was an eased, casual movement Erik knew was done with intent. 

She looked back, a small smile tugging at her lips when she saw him in the mirror. 

A tease. A trap. 

Erik stepped inside and closed the door behind him with his foot. It clicked shut. His breath tightened in his chest, steady but strong. All that calm he tried to hold onto was gone. 

He crossed the room in three strides. 

Sanaa straightened just as he reached her. Before she could turn fully, his big hand slid around her next firm. Sanaa’s breath stuttered in her throat. Erik moved her to face the wall near her bedroom door, their bodies close, her skin soft and warm against his body. He could feel her pulse tapping under his palm. 

Her lips parted.

Erik leaned in, his voice dropping low enough to rattle her spine.

“You think you cute.”

His thumb pressed under her jaw, guiding her chin up. It was enough to make her listen.

“You really sat out there on your knees. Let that lil’ nigga talk to you while you sucked me off…”

Sanaa’s eyes fluttered. She smiled faintly, all innocence and no innocence at all.

“You think I’m playing wit’ you?” Erik brought his forehead to the side of her face so he can speak directly into her ear, “You a dirty girl. You know that? A messy lil’ slut. A tease. You do this shit on purpose.” 

Sanaa swallowed under his hand. Her thighs pressed together. 

Her voice came out gentle but trembling with hunger, “I’m a nasty bitch?” 

Erik let out a breath through his nose. Deep. His fingers tightened slightly around her neck, enough to make her gasp. 

“You a nasty bitch for real. The kinda nasty bitch that don’t listen. Make a nigga lose it. The kinda bitch that open her mouth for dick while another dude begging for her time…”

Sanaa’s breath slipped out shaky. She shifted against him, her ass brushing his crotch. It made Erik clench his jaw.

“…You proud of yourself?” 

A small whine rippled from her throat. Sanaa nodded. 

Erik leaned even closer, lips almost touching her ear. 

“Say it again.” 

Sanaa shivered, “I’m a nasty bitch.” 

His grip on her neck tighter. More dominant.

“Louder.”

“I-I’m a nasty bitch.”

Erik’s breath hit her shoulder, “You damn right.” He let his other hand slide down her side. Over her ribs. Across her thigh. Then up between her legs, stopping just before he touched her where she wanted him to touch. He didn’t even have to go further to feel the heat radiating from between her legs. That pussy was damn near soaked through her panties. He knew it.

“You drippin’. Actin’ bold one second. Shaking the next.”

Sanaa’s knees buckled a little and Erik caught her by the waist, holding her steady.

“Put your hands on the wall.” 

Erik stepped in closer behind her, his chest now fully pressed to her back, his hand now locking her arms above her head. That dick she was slurping on sitting between her cheeks. Sanaa’s breath went thin.

“You gon’ tease me again like you did tonight?” 

Sanaa shook her head.

“You lyin’. You gon’ suck my dick all over this apartment while that nigga tryna take you out?”

Her thighs pressed tougher. Voice barely held together.

“If you let me.”

Erik’s other hand slid down her stomach. Flat. Warm. Possessive.

“Don’t start. Because if you ask for something tonight, daddy just might take you up on it.” 

Sanaa exhaled, a soft sound that made his grip tighten. 

Then, she whispered, voice low and needy, “Daddy…I want more.” 

The look that came across his face could set the room on fire. Erik chuckled under his breath. The sound vibrated against her spine. 

“You want more,” Erik said, his mouth still at her ear, his words brushing her skin, “Actin’ like you ready for anything I give you.” He leaned in closer, his chest pressed to her back. His hips nudged her lightly. A reminder of his size. A reminder of the weight she loved. A reminder of how easily he could fold her if he wanted, “You not getting a thing.” 

Sanaa’s mouth parted, a small involuntary sound slipping out but she covered it with a slow inhale. Trying to look unbothered. 

Erik chuckled again. He saw it. All of it.

“You hear me?” Erik’s lips grazed the edge of her ear tickling her, “After what you pulled in that kitchen. After what you pulled tonight. You gets nothin’.” 

Her nails bit lightly into the wall. Sanaa pressed her lips together because she refused to give him the satisfaction of begging. Even though her body betrayed her.

Erik stepped even closer, his frame engulfing hers. His hand settled on the wall above her head, boxing her in. The room felt smaller with him anchored behind her like that.

His voice dropped even lower, “You think you can get on your knees in front of me, run your mouth like that, swallow me whole, then ask for more. You think you run this.” 

Her breath rose unevenly. Sanaa tried to steady it. Tried to stop her hips from shifting back toward him. Tried not to let her body answer him before she could. But it was so hard. 

“Stand still,” he said.

She did. Barely. Her knees wobbled. Erik’s hand found her waist. His fingers pressed into the soft dip there. 

“You not gettin’ my dick tonight.” His words wrapped around her like a fist, “You not gettin’ my fingers. You not gettin’ my mouth. Nothing.”

Her lashes lowered. A heat stirred low in her stomach. She hated how much his denial hit her. Hated how thick her throat felt. Hated how his voice ran down her spine like warm syrup. The second she got a piece of control, it slipped. 

Erik dipped his head to her neck. His lips hovered. Teasing the air above her skin.

“You thought you could push me. You thought you could take control like that.” His breath filled the space between them, “You out your fuckin’ mind, lil’ girl.”

She swallowed. Her head tilted slightly to the side without permission, baring her neck to him. It was instinct. Her body was betraying her.

He loved that.

“Watch how you walk around this apartment tomorrow like you innocent. Like you not the same lil’ slut who did all this shit tonight.” His voice sank even lower, “But I know you, Bri.” 

She shifted again. Tension ran down her thighs.

“So keep tryin’ me,” he whispered, “Keep runnin’ your little games…”

Her chest rose sharply.

“Because you not getting touched until I say so.” 

Something slick moved behind her eyes. Not desperation. Calculation.

He could feel it.

“You thinkin’ of a way to piss me off again,” he said softly.

She didn’t respond. Erik smiled against her cheek. 

“You plotting.”

Still, Sanaa stayed quiet. Her body gave her away. Her back arched the tiniest bit. Her breath got thinner.

He pressed his lips to her ear, “You wanna act up again, ma?” His voice was warm and cruel all at once. “Go ahead.”

Her stomach tightened. Erik stepped back suddenly. The air left her body in a cold rush. She stayed against the wall because her knees didn’t trust her yet. Erik looked at her from behind. Her back rising. Her skin flushed. Her whole body fighting itself.

“I hope you do,” he said, “‘cause when you push me too far…”

She turned her head slowly toward him, lips slightly parted, eyes dark with want and something sharper.

He smirked, “Think real hard before you try me again.”

Sanaa turned slowly. Her chest peeled from the wall inch by inch, breath unsteady, her tank was still lifted tto show that soft line of her waist he kept staring at. She faced him fully now, her curly hair messy, her lips shiny from licking and nibbling on them. The air tightened between them the second their eyes locked.

Erik’s stance was wide, heavy, shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway. The scars across his arms and torso caught the soft yellow lamp light, raised bumps over rich brown skin that made him look carved from something older than this world. His locs hung partly in his face, shadowing dark eyes that glared at her like she had crossed a line she couldn’t uncross.

It made her knees soften.

Sanaa bit down on her bottom lip and her gaze dragged all the way down his chest, over the swell of muscle in his arms, the slope of his stomach, the thick outline still fighting to calm down in his sweats. She touched her throat lightly. A slow trace of her fingers. Like she was remembering his hand there and wanted it back.

“I never told you this,” she started. Her voice trembling not from fear, but from need.

Erik’s chin lifted. Barely. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and lust twisted together.

Sanaa stepped closer. Just one slow step. Enough to make his jaw clench, “I remember…” Her lips curled, “I saw you getting sucked by one of your bitches back home.”

His whole body went still.

Her voice dropped to even more of a whisper, “I watched her. I watched you. I never forgot it.”

His nostrils flared, fingers twitched at his sides.

She kept going, “I pictured myself on my knees for you. All the time.” She moved her hand from her neck to her mouth, dragging her thumb across her bottom lip, “I practiced too. A lot. Just so when it was my turn, I’d be good for you.”

Erik took one short step forward, enough to let her feel the size of him. His shadow swallowed her.

“…You practiced,” he echoed. His voice wasn’t loud, but it rumbled low in his chest, “For me.”

Sanaa nodded. Slow. Eager. Defiant.

He leaned in close. His breath brushed her cheek, “You a bold lil’ bitch,” he said, “Standing here bragging ‘bout sucking practice like that don’t make you dick crazy.”

Her chest lifted. The word crazy almost pushed a sound out of her. Erik let his eyes drag over her body, slow and heated. Down her throat. Across her chest. Over her hips. He took his time. Let her feel every inch of his stare.

“You really sat there and watched me get my dick sucked. Then went home and tried to copy it.” His tongue traced the corner of his mouth. “You filthy.”

Sanaa inhaled sharply. Her thighs pressed together without her permission. He stepped even closer. Their chests brushed. Her breath caught in her throat.

“You wanna know what that make you?” he asked.

She nodded.

His lips touched her ear. A ghost of contact.

“My lil’ slut in training.” Erik pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. His expression shifted to something darker, “But you not gettin’ touched.”

Her breath stopped.

“Not after that.” His voice wrapped around her like a rope, “Not after tellin’ me you been practicing on your own time just to suck me right.”

She swallowed.

“You think that supposed to get you somethin’ tonight?” His tone hardened, “You think that confession mean you gettin’ dick?”

Her lips parted. No words came out.

“You gettin’ nothing.”

Her stomach twisted so sharply it hurt. Erik reached out like he was about to grab her chin.

Then he stopped.

His hand hovered inches from her skin. Close enough to make her gasp. Close enough that she leaned forward instinctively, desperate to feel his touch.

He dropped his hand, “You thirsty,” he said softly, “Shaking for it.”

Her breath stuttered. She hated how true it was. Couldn’t stand it. Erik looked down at the front of his sweats. The fabric twitched again. Hard. Thick. Full from base to top. His body was betraying him more than hers. 

He clenched his jaw. 

“I should take you right here,” he said, “I should bend your ass over this bed for everything you just said.”

She shivered.

“But I’m not.” His voice cut warm and sharp, “I’m a leave you aching.”

Her lips parted in shock.

“And I’m walkin’ out this room while you stand here wet as hell in them lil’ ass panties...”

Erik stepped back. Sanaa’s breath quickened. Her fingers curled at her sides.

“You want to play reckless?” His eyes dragged over her again, slow and punishing, “Good. Feel it.”

Sanaa stared at him, stunned, ruined, burning. His chest rose heavy as he fought himself. The twitch at his waistband betrayed him again. His abs tightened. His breath hitched.

He wanted her. Bad. So damn bad.

But he turned toward the door anyway.

“Touch yourself tonight,” he said without looking back, “See what it get you.”

Her mouth fell open. A quiet sound escaped her.

Erik opened the door, he paused at the doorway.

“And don’t forget.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper, “I can tell that you been practicing.”

He walked out.

Left the door cracked just enough for her to feel the cold air rush in. Left her shaking. Left himself hurting. Left both of them one wrong move away from breaking again. 

____

A low bassline pulsed from the speaker in the corner, something dark and hypnotic. DVSN threading through the air. Erik sat lounged in the corner of the sectional, thighs relaxed, that long frame stretching out in a way that pulled attention whether he meant to or not. His tank top clung to his chest. Sweatpants hung low, the print of his semi-hard dick visible when he shifted. His locs were pulled back and his gold slugs glinted every time he licked over his full bottom lip. His laptop was open and resting over one thigh. He bobbed his head lightly to the music. 

Erik hadn’t heard her come in at first. 

Sanaa dropped her keys in the ceramic dish and stood in the entryway for a second. She was exhausted, book bag slumped on one shoulder. 

Erik looked up.  

“Sup, Bri. You good?” 

She gave him a weak nod, “Yeah…just school shit.” 

Erik watched her a beat longer. Watched the way her shoulders drooped, the slight frown in her forehead. The fuck-it-all drag in her feet as she made her way to her bedroom. Sanaa shut the door behind her without another word. 

Erik went back to typing. 

Then, ten minutes later, she returned.

No clothes. Nothing. Not even a bra and panties. Just butt ass naked. Skin dewy and glowing. Titties bouncing with each graceful step. Pussy waxed and shining. Those soft thighs parting as she walked across the living room without a trace of shame. Sanaa quietly breezed through. Didn’t even glance his way until she got to the front of the sectional. The music was still low in the background, that sleepy instrumental to DVSN ‘muse’ that matched the thump of Erik’s blood when his dark eyes landed on her. 

Erik had been simply lounging back on the sectional with that calm, unreadable look on his face. But the second she walked into that room—naked, soft, wet—he leaned back and stared up at her ass like he was trying to decide if she was being serious. 

He stared deep into her eyes, brows frowning, “Fuck you doin’, lil’ girl?” 

Sanaa came closer. Her hands remained at her sides. She leaned in close enough for him to smell her vanilla and marshmallow scented lotion on her skin and the stress of the day still clinging to her. 

“You even take a breath before throwin’ that lil pussy at me?” Erik’s voice came slow, low, teasing. 

Her voice was a soft whisper when she began to speak. Like it had nowhere else to go but his ears.

“Make me feel better.”

Then she laid back right there. On the rug. Head tilted. Those eyes on him. Her thighs opened and inviting him to come get that pussy and make her forget how stressed her day had been. To fuck the stress away. 

One leg lifted and fell to the side, exposing all that glossy, wet pink pussy between her thighs. Her clit was puffy, inner lips parted like they’d been craving that kind of attention since before she left campus. 

Erik sat for a second. 

Then, he closed his laptop. Sat it down beside him. 

“…You ain’t even get comfortable yet,” Erik spoke as he stood, “Just came straight home needing your pussy played in?” 

He crouched between her legs, voice dropping lower with every word.

“Mm,” Erik grunted under his breath like he had just been given something so delicate yet so nasty to study. His hand moved in. No rush. All palm at first—warm, heavy—cupping her entire pussy like he was checking it’s temperature.

“Been missin’ me, huh?” He said, rubbing her slow with his whole hand, middle finger dragging through the slick. 

Sanaa’s pussy twitched in his hand.

“You this wet off nothin’? Just walked out drippin’ like that?” 

His fingers dipped in—just two at first. Deep and curling slow. Erik stroked upward, his knuckles dragging against her soaked walls. Sanaa’s back arched like she was. Puppet obeying her master. Just a soundless breath and a shudder escaping her lips, legs trembling as her hips tilted into his palm. 

“Thought so. Thought you was gon’ sit there and just give it up like this.” 

Erik kept finger-fucking her with a steady and deep motion. He didn’t pump her pussy fast. He angled his fingers just right in that pussy and dragged them in and out slow, then curled them inside her like he was raking through honey. Sanaa let her head fall back and grabbed onto the sides of his thighs for balance, her jaw slack and her chest rising in a staggering rhythm.

She tried pathetically to close her legs but Erik opened them back up. 

“Don’t fuckin’ do that. Don’t piss me off,” Erik’s voice dropped darker, “Let me play in it. Nasty lil’ bitch. What happened? Professor ain’t give you no attention? You been fidgeting in them lil’ lecture seats thinkin’ ‘bout daddy dick again, huh?” 

Erik didn’t let her answer. 

“Daddy—”

“Shut that shit the fuck up. Whinin’. You know what time Aaliyah come home?” 

“She—she got class…” 

Erik curled his fingers and watched her body twitch. 

“And if her shit get let out early? You gon’ be sprawled out in the middle of the living room like a slut. You gon’ get us caught. You want that?” 

She shook her head. Whimpered. 

Erik just stared at her for a moment. His jaw clenched. Eyes low. That quiet irritation that always gave way to something darker when it came to her. 

“Then stop actin’ like a bitch in heat, Sanaa.” 

“Erik…I can’t. You make me wet just lookin’ at you. I can’t help it.” 

Erik’s chin tilted down, voice dropping into that fake gentle concern that made her stomach grow warm.

“Yeah, baby girl?” He let it settle, slow, “I make it wet?” 

Her breath hitched.

Erik touched her chin, his thumb pressing into the corner of her mouth just enough to make her feel owned and tempted at the same time.

“Daddy turn you on so much you can’t stop openin’ your legs for me? Huh?” 

Sanaa swallowed. Erik’s palm slid down the side of her hip, fingers spreading like he was measuring her. 

“You that far gone?” His tone stayed sweet. Too sweet, “All it take is me lookin’ at you and now you leakin’ on yourself?” 

Her pulse jumped. Erik leaned in, his lips a breath above her ear.

“You serious, ma?”

Sanaa nodded before she could stop herself. Erik gave a soft scoff, almost laughing at her, but it came out warm enough to melt her spine.

“Greedy lil’ Sanaa. You really can’t help it, huh?” 

His tone shifted. 

Erik pulled his fingers out. He picked her up easy. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Erik walked straight up to the sofa and tossed her down her down just hard enough to make the cushions bounce. 

“Don’t say nothin’,” he growled, “Just lay there and be the needy lil slut you wanna be.”

Sanaa was already reaching between her legs when he slid down onto the sofa beside her. 

He caught her wrist. 

“I said don’t…touch. That’s my pussy now.”

His fingers slid back inside her and this time he went deeper. His thumb massaged her clit just the way she liked it. His mouth stayed close to her ear, that voice keeping her pinned.

“Been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

“Yes…”

“Been actin’ smart too often. Rollin’ your eyes. Givin’ me attitude. Suckin’ my dick and sending me pussy pics. Just reckless. Get home and lay it all out like a bitch who forgot how to behave.”

“I needed it…” Sanaa whined. 

“Yeah? You need it now? Greedy ass pussy,” he breathed, “Clutchin’ like you tryna keep me in.”

She looked up at him, breathless, “I am.” Biting her lip, gyrating her hips a little to match the way his thick fingers stroked her. 

“Aight then. You want it?”

She nodded, eyes glassy.

He leaned in close, gripped her jaw, “Beg for it like I been gone three weeks.”

Sanaa’s lips parted, voice cracking.

“Please. Erik, I need it so bad. I been thinkin’ about it all day. My pussy so wet, I swear. I’ll be quiet. I’ll keep it in. Just…please. I need it.”

His eyes dropped to where she glistened.

He gave a slow smirk.

“Say less.”

He didn’t rush it.

That was the first thing that always ruined her.

Erik never rushed when it came to her pussy. He treated it like something he needed to study every single time. Like he might miss something if he went too fast. Like he wanted to watch her fall apart piece by piece. On his dick. On his tongue. And now on his fingers. 

He dragged two fingers down her slit, not even going inside again. Just tracing. Feeling how slick she was. How she twitched at the smallest contact. He rubbed through her folds lazy, teasing, spreading her wetness everywhere until her thighs started shaking. Feeling the soft slippery folds of her pretty pussy. 

“Look at this shit,” he whispered, “You nasty.”

His middle finger slid in. Deep. All the way to the knuckle. Sanaa’s head fell back immediately. A soft, broken sound left her throat before she could stop it.

“Ahh…”

He paused. Smiled.

“That all it take?”

Then he started moving.

In.

Out.

Slow. Controlled.

Erik was setting a rhythm for her body to follow whether she wanted to or not. Then, he added a second finger. Pushed in. Curled them both upward. Hit that spot good. 

Her back arched clean off the sofa, “Oh my—yes…”

Her hands fisted the throw blanket beneath her. Her words disappeared after that. Because he did not let up. He started fucking her with his fingers. Not gentle. Not polite. Deep strokes. Curling. Pressing. Dragging against her walls like he was trying to rewrite her brain.

“Mm,” he hummed, “There it is.”

Her moans turned sloppy. High. Breathless.

“Uh…ahh…Erik…fuck…”

“Shut up,” he said softly, “Just feel it.”

He pulled his fingers out suddenly. She cried out in protest. Before she could complain, he dragged those same messy fingers up and planted those same fingers on her clit. Then he started rubbing. Back and forth. Slow at first. Then faster. Harder. Side to side. Her hips bucked immediately.

“Ohhh…ohh…oh—mm—gah—mffff—”

She couldn’t finish a sentence. Couldn’t form one. Her mouth stayed open, nothing but broken sounds falling out. He watched her closely. Watched her thighs tremble. Watched her stomach tighten. Watched her toes curl.

“Look at you. Dumb off some fingers. Can’t even talk.”

He slid his fingers back inside her. Two. Then three.

Wet. Slippery. Messy.

Went right back to fucking her. At the same time, his thumb never stopped on her clit. In and out.

Rub. Curl. Rub. Deeper. Faster. Rub.

He set a brutal rhythm.

Finger her. Rub her clit. Finger her harder. Rub her faster. Over and over. No mercy. No break. No slowing down.

Her body started betraying her. Her hips chased his hand. Her legs shook. Her breath stuttered. Her eyes rolled up.

“Mm…mm…mmm…”

That was all she had left. 

He leaned down, mouth close to her ear, “Whole pussy cryin’ for me and you can’t even say shit,” he whispered. “Pathetic.”

She whimpered. Tried to speak.

Failed.

He sped up, “Yeah. There it go.”

His fingers plunged deep and stayed curled while his thumb went ruthless on her clit. Side to side.

Circles. Pressure. Faster. Faster.

Her back bowed. A broken sob left her mouth.

“Erik…I’m…”

“I know,” he said calmly, “Go ‘head. Cum right in my hand.” 

He did not slow. Did not ease up. Did not give her time. He pushed her straight over the edge. Her body locked. Her thighs clamped around his wrist. A loud, uncontrollable moan tore out of her chest as she came hard.

Wet. Hot. Soaking his hand.

Shaking like she was being electrocuted.

“Ahhh… ahh…oh my g-ga-ha-ffff…”

He stayed inside her. Kept rubbing. Kept fucking her. Rode it out with her. Sanaa grabbe for his wrist but she was too weak. Her grip too soft. She looked into Erik’s eyes with a mixture of confusion and lust. Then she glanced down at her pussy. At the mess. At the way he kept focus on that spot. Her eyelids fluttered when his thumb made its way back to her clit and rubbed. Her acrylics dug into the palm of her hand from how tightly clenched she was. 

“Let it out,” he whispered, “Make a mess…make a mess…make a mess…”

Her orgasm dragged. Pulsed. Hit her in waves. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. When she finally collapsed back into the mattress, completely spent, he slowly pulled his fingers out. Held them up. Glossy. Dripping. He looked at them. Then at her.

“Look what you did,” he said quietly, “Disgusting.”

She could barely lift her head.

Her voice came out weak, “…do it again.”

He chuckled low, “Greedy ass. I ain’t never met a hoe so greedy like you.” 

He did it again.

Back to her pussy. Fingers inside. Deep strokes. Soaked. Then right back up to her clit. Rubbing tight, wet circles. She was panting now, body rocking with each shift of his hand, throat too tight to make full sounds. Just high whines. Moans caught in her mouth. Her head dropped forward and Erik grabbed the back of her neck, keeping her in place.

“Uh uh. Sit up. I wanna see that face.”

He kept rubbing, kept fingering, switching between the two like he had her on a rhythm he made up just for her. Her pussy was clenching, fluttering around nothing when he pulled out, leaking and sensitive and begging for more.

“Messy lil pussy,” he said, gliding his fingers up again. 

She couldn’t answer. Her mouth hung open but no words came. Her body talked for her. The way she rocked in his lap. The way she gripped his wrist. The way her climax crept up like it was dragging her under.

Erik felt it. Saw it.

“There you go…there you go…daddy’s good girl…,” he whispered.

He rubbed harder. Fingers slid back inside. She cried out, louder this time.

“Ohhh—FUCK.”

“That’s it. Come on, lil’ princess with the pretty pussy—”

Fingers back on her clit. Back in her pussy. Slick noises filling the space between her thighs and his breath.

She started to tremble.

And he didn’t stop. Erik didn’t let her come down. He worked her through it until she was writhing, mouth open but no sound coming out. Her pussy gushing all over his fingers, thighs soaked. She was shaking so hard now he had to wrap an arm around her waist to hold her steady.

Then, finally, she slumped forward, chest to his, breathing hard and twitching.

Erik kissed her temple.

Licked his fingers.

“Better?” he asked with a slight tick of his brow. 

_____

The way her body curled against his told him everything he needed to know. She wanted it again. Wanted to feel wrecked. Owned. Dumbed out on his touch. But Erik wasn’t giving in easy. Thighs sticky and twitching, pussy glistening. Her chest heaved. Her lips stayed parted, eyes halfway rolled. She was losing herself before he even started up again.

Erik leaned in close, brushing his lips just beneath her ear, fingers still playing in her wetness.

“This that same pussy I had laid out in that bed, huh?” he whispered, dragging two fingers up her slit slow, “Yeah. This that same tight lil’ pussy that creamed all on me while you was beggin’ for the tip, actin’ like you ain’t know what the fuck you was doin’.”

Sanaa’s thighs clenched. He didn’t let her close.

“Nah. You gon’ keep that shit open,” he said, voice deep and calm, “You made this mess. Sit in it.” He eased two fingers back inside her, knuckles deep, the angle precise. He stroked her from the inside while his thumb pressed soft over her clit, “Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout how this pussy felt when I fucked you,” he muttered, nose brushing her cheek, “All that grip, all that wet, pullin’ me in like you was tryna keep me.” His fingers slid in deeper, “Shit was creamy like lotion. Had me slippin’ and slidin’ in it. Couldn’t stop. Still can’t.” He started thrusting his fingers harder now, slow but precise. Curl. Stretch. Rub. She jerked in his lap, “And you know what I really love?” His voice dropped, lips now against her jaw, “How you let me nut in it.”

She gasped.

“How you take daddy nut. Don’t pull away. Don’t run. Just open them pretty lil’ legs and let me fill it up. Cus it’s mine to fill up how I please, ain’t it? Lil slut like this nut up in her pussy?” 

Sanaa was moaning now, breath ragged, whole body trembling against his chest. He pulled his fingers out just to rub her clit with all that wetness, sliding fast, back and forth, making her eyes roll.

“You know I ain’t supposed to be dickin’ you down like this,” he growled in her ear with a slight mug, “You supposed to be off limits.” Then he shoved his fingers right back in, “But I can’t get enough of this sloppy lil’ puss. Keep thinkin’ ‘bout it. Wakin’ up hard over it. Watchin’ you walk around like you ain’t the reason I stay backed up.” 

She whined loud, reaching for his shoulders, losing the ability to hold herself steady.

Erik caught her by the throat, “Nuh uh. You gon’ take this like a big girl.” He squeezed gently, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to hold her still, “You want that dick again?” he asked, staring her down.

She nodded fast.

“I said,” he growled, “you want that dick again?”

“Yes—yes,” she choked out, voice trembling.

“You gotta fuckin’ earn it.” He started rubbing her clit faster, meaner, while his fingers stayed buried, “You been a bratty lil’ bitch lately. Pushin’ it. Givin’ me attitude. Walkin’ ‘round actin’ like I won’t bend you over this couch and fuck that attitude right outta ya lil’ ass.”

Sanaa’s cries turned breathless, legs shaking again.

“Been movin’ too risky. Gon’ get us caught ‘cause you wanna keep gettin’ your pussy stretched and creamed like a nasty lil’ fiend.” He hit that spot again. She screamed into his shoulder, “Oh, you feel that?”

She was falling apart.

“Yeah. That’s what happens when Daddy in control. You want it, you follow rules.” He kept stroking. Kept rubbing, “Say who it belong to,” he demanded, hand between her legs relentless.

“Y-you,” she stuttered.

“Nah. Say it right.”

“It’s yours, Daddy—fuck, it’s yours—”

“Damn right. This daddy pussy. Gotta remind you…”

He shoved his fingers deep again, grinding his thumb over her clit until she came with a sharp cry, body convulsing, pussy gushing. She clung to him, sobbing through the release. Erik didn’t let up until she went limp in his lap. Then he kissed the side of her neck and whispered—

“You want the dick again, you better act like it.”

She nodded, dumb and breathless.

He smiled, “Now that’s my good girl.”

Her breath came in shallow pulls, lashes damp, lips swollen from biting them shut. Erik sat back, fingers glistening, and stared at her like she was his next meal. Then, he brought those same fingers up to her mouth, slow and slick.

“Open.”

She did it without thinking, tongue out, lips wrapping around his fingers like she was starving for more. Erik groaned low, eyes darkening as she sucked them clean. He moved them deeper, past her lips, pressing to the back of her tongue. She gagged a little but didn’t stop, eyes fluttering closed like she liked it.

“Mm,” he chuckled, “Oh you ain’t so tough now, is you, Bri?”

She looked up at him, eyes low, need pouring off her in waves.

“You know your fuckin’ place now or I gotta put you through this couch? Fuck some respect back in you?”

Erik pulled his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop, stood up slow, and dragged his sweats down his hips. That thick dick sprang free—heavy, brown, pretty, veins bulging up the shaft. Sanaa’s lips parted again, this time in awe. Her eyes dropped, locked onto it like she forgot how to breathe. Like she forgot how that dick look. What it tasted like. How it opened her up. 

“I been edging my shit all fuckin’ day,” Erik growled, gripping the base with one hand, the other cupping his full, weighty balls, “You see this?”

He pushed his hips forward, showing her how swollen they were, dragging one palm beneath them slow.

“Balls backed up. Look.”

She moaned out loud, crawling forward on her knees, reaching for him, eyes glassy.

“Uh uh,” he said, stepping back, “Don’t touch me.”

Sanaa whimpered.

He chuckled again, stroking himself now, letting her watch that thick dick swell in his grip.

“I’m a give it to you…yeah,” he said, voice low, rough, “But you ain’t touchin’ me.”

Her brows pulled together, breath catching as she tried to sit still, thighs clenching under her.

“I’m tired of your lil’ ass thinkin’ you run shit,” he said, jerking himself faster now, jaw tight, eyes locked on her face, “Throwin’ tantrums. Actin’ bold. Bein’ a fuckin’ brat.” He stepped back in, towering over her, letting that thick dick bounce right in front of her lips, “You gon’ sit there and take this like you supposed to.”

Sanaa nodded, eyes wide, voice barely a whisper, “Yes, Daddy.”

He smirked.

“Good. Now sit back. Arch that shit. You wanted it so bad? Get yo’ ass ready to beg for it all over again.”

Sanaa arched her back deep, her spine curved like a bow, cheek pressed to the cushion, ass raised high like an offering. Her low bun sat pretty at the base of her neck, trembling each time she breathed too hard. She was dripping so much it leaked to the throw blanket beneath her, folds glistening, thighs trembling.

Erik stood behind her, stroking his dick slow, letting the head glide through her wetness without putting it in yet. Just teasing. Making her wait for it on his command.

“You always got some slick shit to say,” he spoke low and rough, pressing the tip against her entrance, not moving. “Always actin’ like you runnin’ something.”

Sanaa whimpered, pushed back just a little, trying to catch it. He gripped her ass with one hand, thick fingers spreading her open.

“Keep that shit right there.”

Then he pushed in. Slow. Deep. All the way. Her pussy stretched wide around him, and Erik let out a thick breath through his nose, clenching his jaw as her walls clenched tight around every inch. His thrusts started slow. Strokes that dragged through her like he was tryna mark every inch. Her moans came soft at first, then louder with each roll of his hips.

“Fuck, Daddy…” she gasped, eyes squeezed shut, legs shaking.

Erik grabbed that bun. Fistful. Tight.

“Up. Get on them fuckin’ hands.”

He pulled her up, forced her to arch even deeper, made her take all of him from a new angle. Then, he started really fuckin’ her. Deep. Hard. Faster. Her ass clapped back against his thighs with every stroke. The sound echoed off the walls.

“Oooh, shit—” Sanaa cried out, gasping, shaking.

Her hands gave out. Her body couldn’t keep up. Erik held her by her hair, other hand palming her ass, pulling her back onto his dick over and over again.

“Thought you was in charge?” he growled, “Thought you was slick?”

She tried to answer, but all that came out was another broken moan.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. This mine. You act like it ain’t. I remind you every time.”

Her voice cracked, “It’s in my belly, Daddy—”

Tears slipped out the corners of her eyes. She was crying now. Whimpering. Babbling.

But Erik wasn’t tryna hear that shit.

“Nah. Don’t cry now.” He dug his grip deeper into her hip, “You the one beggin’ for dick. You the one throwin’ that shit at me every time you get needy.”

His dick was slamming up into her now, balls smacking her clit with every stroke, wetness dripping down both their thighs.

“You gon’ feel this tomorrow.” He slapped her ass, left a mark, “Next time you act up, I’mma put you right back in this position. Face down, ass up. Cryin’ ‘cause you can’t take it, but beggin’ for more.”

She was gone. Whimpering. Clawing at the couch. Back arched. Mouth wide open. Tears falling. Sanaa folded, arms draped over the top of the sectional, face buried in the crook of her elbow like she was hiding from what he was doing to her. Whimpering. Shaking. Her breaths came ragged and shallow, lips parted, eyes wet.

Erik didn’t say a word. He was speaking with that dick. Long, deep strokes. Slow. Intentional. His hips rolled with power, digging into her like he was carving out a message inside her walls. Each thrust dragged a sound from her throat she couldn’t control. All broken, soft, shame-drenched. One of his hands stayed planted between her shoulders, big palm flat, holding her still. Pressing her down just enough to make her feel the control. The other hand was wild with it—slapping her ass, jiggling the softness between his fingers, spreading her open so he could watch her take him.

“Just like that,” he muttered finally, voice low, breath heavy, “Stay right there. You takin’ it now.”

She nodded into her arm, body jolting with every bounce of her ass.

“Can’t even talk no more, huh?” he said, smacking her again, “All that mouth you had? Gone.” He gripped her cheeks and pulled them apart, watching his dick disappear inside her soaked pussy, “Listen to that shit.”

Their bodies were loud now. Wet claps. Deep grunts. Her gasps growing frantic.

“You gon’ learn how to act.” Another thrust. Deeper, “You gon’ stop playin’ with me.” Another slap. Louder, “You gon’ remember who run this pussy.”

His hips never stopped moving, his dick bullying her into silence. Sanaa let out a choked cry, trying to lift her head. Erik shoved her back down with the hand on her back.

“Uh uh,” he said, “You stay right there and take this dick like the nasty lil’ brat you been actin’ like.”

She started sobbing for real, wet and messy, trying to push back and take more at the same time.

“Don’t run, slut. You begged for this. You needed this, right? I’m just remindin’ you.”

And he was. With every stroke.

Sanaa’s body had passed the point of no return. Her arms hung limp over the back of the couch, face still buried in the crook of her elbow, sweat glistening along her spine. Her legs shook beneath her, toes curled hard into the cushions. Erik hadn’t said a single word in minutes. He was fucking the breath out of her. Hard. Vicious. Ruthless. With power. With punishment. Just dick. Every stroke knocked her forward, ass bouncing back from the sheer force of his hips. Her pussy sounded obscene, wet and clapping loud beneath her. Her body tried to run from it, but he was gripping her tight, dragging her back onto him, over and over again.

Sanaa couldn’t breathe right. Her mouth stayed open but nothing came out except strangled gasps and helpless moans. Her climax had been building from the first time he pushed inside her, slow and deep, but now—now it was boiling up her spine, thick and hot and feral. Her pussy clenched down hard around him, squeezing like her body was trying to trap him, hold him hostage. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, hips jerking like they didn’t know whether to run or grind back harder.

And Erik didn’t stop. He beat that pussy up. No mercy. No tenderness. Just raw fucking. The kind that made her see colors behind her eyelids. The pressure hit all at once—right at the base of her belly, then spreading wide, then down. She cried out, high and broken, choking on her own breath as the orgasm ripped through her.

Her body convulsed. Back arched. Pussy fluttering around his dick in desperate waves. Erik didn’t stop his pace. He continued to beat that pussy up. 

Sanaa’s pussy stretched around him. Letting our broken sounds—soft and shocked. She wasn’t prepared to feel him that deep. His hips met her from behind with a hard clap. The impact traveled through her ass, up her spine, and into the back of her skull. Her vision blurred a little. And her mouth remained unhinged. 

Sanaa tried to push her knees wider but it didn’t help. Daddy was still too much. 

Erik watched her from behind, tongue sitting at the corner of his mouth, a slight smirk on his lips. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her back while he thrusted forward like she weighed nothing. 

His voice low, that Oakland lingo curling around her spine.

“This dick got you floatin’. Daddy got you gone, huh?” 

Sanaa tried to answer but only got air. Her mind was foggy. She felt the room spin a little. Every time Erik slid out and slammed back in, her body jerked forward like she was being yanked out of herself. Sanaa grabbed at the back of the sofa because her arms were the only thing keeping her from falling flat. 

That pussy was wet enough that the sounds echoed in the living room. Slick. Loud. Sloppy. Every stroke pushed a gasp out of her. She could not control her voice. Tighten her legs. Think. She started trying to shift. 

Sitting up? Failed.

Reaching back? Failed.

Pull forward to control the impact? Failed.

Erik reached up with one hand and pressed the center of her lower back, forcing her arch deeper. Her ass lifted higher without her meaning to. The angle opened her up so far she felt a sharp pull in her stomach. Her eyes rolled. Her breath stuttered.

“Yeah. There she go. Daddy told you not to run.”

His tone was calm. Almost gentle.

It made her wetter.

She tried to inch forward, but he caught her hips and dragged her right back onto him.

“Stay on this dick like I said,” His voice sounded patient. Too damn calm, “You wanted this. Take it.” 

Sanaa nodded without knowing she nodded. Her thoughts came in pieces. Heat. Pressure. Breathing. Wet. Deep. Deeper. Too much. More. 

Erik sped up, hips hitting her with sharp, rhythmic thrusts that lifted her halfway off the sofa each time. The whole world narrowed to the feeling of him pounding her. She felt taken. Filled. Held in place. Her body kept clenching around him because it was begging for more even though her voice could not form a single word. 

Sanaa’s stomach tightened. The pressure inside her grew fast and overwhelming. She felt a wave roll up her spine so strong her hands slipped on the sofa for a second.

Erik saw it. Felt her pulse around him.

He gripped her waist with one hand harder.

“Daddy got you wide open. Say it.”

She tried. Nothing came out but a whine.

He leaned over her back, lips near her ear, “Say it, baby.”

“I’m open,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I’m open for you. I c-c-can’t think.”

Erik smiled against her shoulder, “That’s it. Daddy got you gone. Let it happen.”

Sanaa soaked the base of him, thighs messy, ass shaking as her climax wracked her from head to toe. It wasn’t gentle. It was violent, needy, a full-body surrender. throat tight, pussy gripping him in long pulses she could not stop. Sanaa was spaced out, head empty, breath broken. All she could hear was him behind her and the wet slap of her body taking every ounce of what he gave.

He kept fucking her through it, body meeting with flush thrusts against hers, dick pulsing thick and hard as her cries turned to helpless sobs. Sanaa reached for anything. The couch. The fabric. Her own skin. Anything to ground her.

Erik held her in place while she came, guiding her through it with slow, deep thrusts that kept her right on the edge of falling apart again.

“That’s Daddy’s girl,” he said, low and warm, hand stroking her hip while she shook, “So sweet when you lose yourself.”

But Erik kept going. And that pussy kept taking it. Every inch. Every thrust. Every bruise-deep reminder of who had her like this.

Her body was wrecked, but Erik hadn’t slowed once.

He was balls-deep, hands locked on her shoulders now, dragging her back onto him like she was weightless. His grip was firm, possessive, muscles flexed along his arms, forearms bulging with every pull. The wet slap of skin echoed through the room—hard, sharp, relentless. just pure fuckin’ force.

Her cheek stayed planted against the sectional, breath choppy, spilling frantic. Her pussy was being pounded without mercy, swollen and sensitive, sucking him in. Sanaa turned her head, barely, neck twisted so she could see him from the corner of her eye. That stuck look on her face told it all—mouth slack, brows raised, tears caught on her lashes. She was gone. Dick drunk. Fucked open and filled.

Erik looked right back at her. Eyes low. Locked in. Lip caught between his teeth like he was holding back a groan that could tear through walls. His abs tightened with each thrust, his hips working in a brutal rhythm. Sweat dripped from his chest, slid down the deep ridges of his torso. And then he reached for her head, palmed the back of it. He pressed her cheek back down against the cushion like he was putting her in position for execution.

“Keep your eyes forward.”

He let his hips do the talking. Slowed the stroke—but not the depth. Dragged it all the way out. Ground back in deep with a slow, whining roll of his hips, letting her feel every inch, every throb.

Her pussy opened for it. Took it. Sanaa’s ass bounced, thighs shaking under his grip. He leaned over her, close enough for her to feel his breath against the back of her neck. That heavy, ragged, ruthless breath of a man who knew he was deep in it. Who wasn’t pulling out. Who wasn’t letting up.

His hips rolled again, slower now, deeper, grinding that dick inside her like he wanted to stir her guts and mark them.

“Yes…fuck this pussy like that…”

Her voice cracked mid-sentence, thick with need, broken from too much. She could barely get the words out, but they spilled anyway—greedy, mindless, slutty.

Erik’s eyes darkened. He grabbed her by that low bun with one rough twist of his fist and pulled her head around. Her mouth parted in a soft gasp, and he bent down, caught her lips in a messy, nasty kiss. Didn’t even wait for permission. Flicked his tongue against hers, wet and teasing, then deeper—slow and nasty like he wanted to taste the whimpers still stuck in her throat. All the while, he held his dick buried inside her. Pressed in to the hilt. Not moving just siting thick inside her, filling her so good it made her whine straight into his mouth. 

Her fingers reached back, tried to push at his abs, her breath catching as she twitched beneath him. Erik pulled out slow—slick, swollen, the whole length gliding against her soaked walls—then slammed back in with a force that made the sofa groan beneath them both.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice a growl in her ear, “That pussy stretched now, ain’t it?”

He did it again.

Pulled out slow. Let her feel the slide. Let her know what she gave up. Then drove back in deep, rough, full-body thrusts that rattled her bones.

“I’m a leave you sore.”

Sanaa whimpered, nodding, clenching around him because she wanted to be wrecked. He watched her hand grip the back of the sofa, watched her legs buckle again as her slick dripped down onto the cushion.

“You gon’ make a mess on this sofa, huh?” Another stroke. Mean. Precise, “You sittin’ here with this pussy so fuckin’ wet it’s leakin.”

She whined louder, body rocking with the rhythm of his dick.

“All that smart ass talk you be doin’—for what? Just to let me fuck you stupid like this? Givin’ this shit up like it don’t mean nothin’. Lettin’ me beat it up raw.”

Her mouth opened. No words came out. Just a sound, high and gone.

“You lettin’ me nut in it again too, huh?” Another thrust. Another bounce, “Say it.”

“I—yes, Daddy—”

“Say you want me to leave my nut right up in this pussy.”

She nodded fast, sobbing a little, pushing her ass back onto him like she wanted him deeper than deep. Erik dragged her head back by her bun again, breathing hot against her ear, watching her fall apart in his grip.

“Then shut up and take it.”

And she did. Like it was the only thing she knew how to do. Erik dragged his dick slow out of her then rammed it back in so deep her ass bounced and her breath caught in her throat. That arch in her back was illegal—deep, curved like submission carved straight into her spine. 

______

He stared down at it, jaw clenching.

“Should send that nigga Nathan a pic of this nasty arch you got in your back,” he spat, breath ragged and hard as he ground into her from behind. “Bet that nigga won’t hit you up no more after he see how I got you.”

Then—

Crack.

He slapped her ass rough. Rough enough to sting. Rough enough to leave her hips jerking and her lips trembling. She cried out, but Erik didn’t give her time to catch her breath. He grabbed her by the arm and made her sit up—dragged her back, chest up, hands scrambling to grab the top of the couch for balance.

“Look forward,” he ordered, low and sharp, “Keep that fuckin’ noise to yourself.”

Sanaa stared straight ahead, eyes glossy, breath hitching. Erik grabbed her hips, squared them, and sank back into that pussy with a thrust that stole her soul. She gasped—but caught it. Bit her lip and locked it down. Didn’t make a sound.

Erik smirked behind her, knowing damn well her body was screaming even if her mouth stayed shut. He fucked her just like that—hard, deep, without mercy. His hips crashed into her ass, each stroke sending a ripple up her spine. Her thighs trembled. Arms locked. Nails dug into the fabric.

Her body was humming. She felt every inch, every vein, every throb. That dick was killing her, filling her, breaking her down. He wasn’t giving her space to breathe, wasn’t giving her an inch of control. Domination. And she asked for it. She knew it would feel this good. Sanaa’s head dropped forward, eyes fluttering shut. Her lip caught between her teeth. She was doing everything she could to hold the noises in, but her pussy was creaming without her permission. Dripping. Pulsing. She was close. So close. But he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t slow. Wouldn’t let her run.

And that made her wetter. That made her hate him a little. Because he always got what he wanted. And all she could do was take it.

Erik held her hips like he built her body himself. His fingers dug into her skin firm enough to remind her who she opened herself up for. His stance was wide. His chest rose heavy and slow. He watched every inch of her bent over in front of him. 

His eyes dragged over the arch in her back.

The lift of her ass. 

The shine between her thighs. 

The way she trembled each time he pushed deep. 

His jaw flexed. His nostrils flared. A low groan slipped out when she tightened around him. Deep in his chest. The sound a grown man makes when the pleasure hits harder than he expects. Her pussy wrapped around him like she was built to take him. Warm. Wet. Gripping him with every stroke. He felt her pulse around him and his eyes rolled half back before he caught himself.

“Look at this lil’ body.” His voice was thick, “Look how you let Daddy fit in you.”

He pumped into her again. The impact lifted her forward and she cried out, fingers clawing for balance. His eyes stayed locked on the place where they met. He watched the slide. The stretch. The way her pussy pulled back on him every time he backed out.

Erik shook his head slowly, almost laughing at how good it felt. “Greedy girl. Always takin’ this dick like you starved.”

Another stroke. Another clap of his hips against her ass. Another deep grunt from him that vibrated through the room.

Erik straightened his back and looked down at her like she was something he owned. Something trained. Something hd enjoyed breaking open.

“You my lil’ slut, huh,” the calm in his voice made her wetter, “knew it soon as you started playin’ innocent ‘round me. Fake shy. Body tellin’ me everything.” 

Sanaa moaned into the sofa and her spine curved deeper. 

Erik grabbed her ass with both hands and spread her open wider. His thumb pressed into the soft, give of her cheeks while he watched his dick slide insider her again. Erik let out another groan, rougher, pleasure hitting him straight in the gut. 

“Damn, look at this pretty shit,” his tone dropped even lower, “This young pussy stay beggin’ me to put dick in it, huh, lil’ slut?” 

He thrust again. Hard enough to knock her breath loose. Sanaa gasped, back arching, vision blurring. Erik watched her lose herself and his lips parted like he needed air.

“Yeah. That is it.” His voice got raspy, “Go stupid for it. Daddy likes that. Daddy likes that.” 

Erik pulled her hips back onto him, forcing her to take every inch with no escape. Her body jolted with each stroke. Her sounds turned soft and broken and helpless.

He stared down at her.

Patience mixed with raw need.

“You mine, ain’t you, lil’ hoe.” 

He said it like a fact. Not a question. Because he knew the answer. Erik’s hips rolled his hips deeper, slower, making her feel every part of him.

“Open up. There you go. Let Daddy fill all this pretty pussy.”

Her stomach tightened and her head dropped. She was slipping again, mind going foogy, body doing whatever he told it to. Erik watched her come apart from behind.

A grown ass man. Not the lil’ niggas she used to. 

Steady. Focused.

Enjoying every second of how she shook for him.

“Oh, you perfect like this,” he breathed out, voice thick with pleasure, “stupid for me. Don’t fight it. Take what Daddy givin’ you.”

Erik pulled her back into him with one firm hand around the front of her neck. Claiming that space right under her jaw where she felt every heartbeat. His fingers spread wide, thumb resting against her throat, steady pressure keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

His other hand pressed down on the small of her back. Heavy. Solid. A silent order. Her spine dipped. Her ass lifted. She felt her whole body fall into the shape he wanted like it remembered him more than she remembered herself.

“Stay right there,” he said, voice calm and low behind her, “Daddy got the rest.”

Sanaa let out a shaky sound. Her arms trembled. She felt the room tilt again. Her mind started to space out the moment he held her neck like that. The weight of his palm made her feel smaller. Made her feel kept. Made her feel owned in a way that turned her inside out.

Erik watched her back curve. Watched her body offer itself without a word. His grip on her neck tightened just a little. 

“That’s my lil baby girl,” he said. “Look how fast you fold for me.”

His hand on her throat caught the inhale and rolled back into a gasp. Her knees shook. Pussy throbbed. 

He pressed her lower back again, pushing her into a deeper arch.

“You hear me talkin’ to you,” he continued, “Answer Daddy.”

“Yessss,” she whispered, voice thin and gone.

He laughed under his breath, “You such a pretty lil’ slut for me.”

Her pussy clenched around nothing and her breath broke. He guided her back onto him slow at first, hand controlling her throat so she stayed upright, hand on her back so she could not rise away. He set the pace. Not her. Never her. When he pushed into her fully, she cried out, body jolting forward, palms slipping on the sheets. His grip on her throat kept her from falling.

“Uh huh. Take this fuckin’ dick.” His voice stayed steady. “You begged for this. Acted up. Teasin’ Daddy like you grown.”

He pulled her back on him again, harder, filling her in one long stroke that made her stomach clench. Her mind blurred. She felt dizzy. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

He stared down at her. Eyes low. Lips parted. That older man hunger mixed with complete confidence.

“Look at that,” he said, “My greedy girl. Baby girl stay reachin’ for more like she got no sense.”

Her body rocked with every thrust. She tried to crawl forward but he caught her throat and held her still.

“No. You stay right here with Daddy.” His tone dropped even lower, “I said I got you.”

She whimpered, breath catching in his hand.

“You proud of yourself?” he asked, voice soft but filthy, “Proud you get Daddy this hard? Proud you got me talkin’ like this? Dick feelin’ so good in your pussy, mama?” 

She nodded fast. Too fast. He tightened his fingers around her throat just enough to make her slow down.

“Good girl. Slow it. Feel me movin’ you.”

He rolled his hips deep, slow, dominant, making her feel every inch. Sanaa’s stomach tightened again. Her vision blurred. She was spaced out, floating, her body taking what he gave without her mind catching up.

“You makin’ Daddy so proud,” he said. “Look how you stay open for me. Look how you let me fuck you like this.”

She moaned. Her legs trembled again. He pushed her lower. Bent her deeper. Held her throat firmer.

“This what happen when you tease me,” he said, “Now Daddy got you good. Dumb for on it. Shakin’ all over.”

Her voice cracked into a whine.

“Say it,” he told her, “Say you my lil’ slut.”

“I’m your lil slut,” she whispered, almost crying with how full she felt.

“Good girl.” His tone warmed, “Now let Daddy finish givin’ you everything you kept beggin’ for.”

“Daddy,” Sanaa whispered, just a soft plea, “Daddy…I can’t think.”

Erik heard it the second her tone changed. He tightened his grip on her waist, steady and warm. His other hand slipped up the front of her throat, holding her in place. His thumb stroked her bottom lip soothingly. 

“I know, baby girl,” he said, voice calm, “You fallin’. Daddy got you. I know it’s a lot. But you wanted this…”

She made a broken sound, almost a sob, but sweet. Her mind floated. Her thoughts slipped away. She felt small. Safe. Fucked out. 

“Daddy keep me,” she whispered, “Please? I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.”

Sanaa was in another dimension at this point. 

Erik nodded slow behind her, eyes heavy as he took her in.

“You better be,” he said, “You know how you get when you act up. You end up right here. Bust open. Shakin’. Callin’ for Daddy like you lost.”

Sanaa whimpered again, body slack, breath shallow.

Her voice was tiny, “Don’t let go of me. Please. Daddy please.”

His hand on her throat stayed firm. Grounding. Claiming. Certain.

“I said I got you,” he told her, “You stay right here in this. You hear me?”

“Yes Daddy.” Her voice cracked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease. I just…I needed you.”

“That’s why Daddy teachin’ you.” His tone dipped into that low, older-man authority that made her melt harder, “You think you can run your lil’ mouth, shake your lil’ ass at me, then not fall apart on this dick? You not built for that.”

Sanaa moaned softly, head dropping.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, “Daddy I’m yours. I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.”

Erik smiled at that. Slow. Dark. Proud.

“That’s right. Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

Her breath hitched, “I’m yours Daddy.”

Erik’s hand slid from her throat to her jaw, tilting her head so he could hear her better.

“You stay where Daddy puts you,” he said, “You breathe how I tell you to breathe. You don’t go floatin’ off without me.”

She nodded hard, tears at the edge of her lashes. Pussy clenching around his still hard dick. 

“Daddy keep teaching me,” she whispered, “Please. Don’t stop. I’ll be good.”

“Yeah,” he said, “You my pretty lil’ bitch. You don’t know how to behave unless Daddy get you right.”

Her body loosened even more at his tone.

Her voice was almost gone.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t stop fuckin’ me.”

“I’m right here,” he said, palm warm on her jaw, “Stay with me. Listen to Daddy. You safe. Let daddy fuck you. Let daddy make you cum, okay?” 

Her mouth parted. She slipped further. Her voice was a whisper of a whisper.

“Daddy…keep doing it. Please. Please. Keep going.”

His voice turned even quieter.

Even more controlled.

“Good girl. Stay in Daddy’s hands. On daddy’s dick. Let me guide you. You wanted this. Now you learnin’ how to take it.”

Erik’s grip on her hips tightened as her pussy started to flutter. That creamy, soaked mess was clutching him tighter with every stroke. She was damn near convulsing, whole body trembling, arch deep, thighs quaking. She was coming.

And he felt it. Knew it in the way she started to shake. The way her pussy squeezed and sucked at his dick like it was begging him to stay in and finish with her.

“Fuck,” Erik groaned, digging in deeper, slower for a breath, then harder again. His abs flexed, shoulders rolling, the veins in his arms thick and raised. He was right there too, balls heavy, dick swollen, the kind of hard that made his own body twitch with the need to bust.

Sanaa reached back, crying out, trying to grab him—anything to hold on. But Erik caught her wrist mid-reach, twisted it gently, and locked it behind her back. Palm flat between her shoulder blades again, pinning her forward with control.

“Nah. Stay right there.” His other hand reached down, cupping her dripping cunt, feeling every twitch, “Good pussy,” he growled, his breath ragged now. “Creamy ass pussy.” His thrusts stayed deep, purposeful, each one slamming into her soaked walls with a noise that sounded wetter than it should’ve been, “Greedy pussy girl. You love this shit, don’t you? Can’t help yourself.”

Sanaa sobbed out, high and open. Then it snapped. Her body buckled, back bowed, and that climax ripped through her like a tidal wave. She screamed—loud, wrecked, wild.

“Daddy!”

Erik’s hips stuttered, his jaw clenched, his groans turned into thick grunts. Still in her. Still grinding.

“You cumming for me, Princess?” he panted, eyes locked on her body shaking beneath him.

That name broke her.

“Yes, Daddy,” she cried out, all soft and ruined. Barely audible.

He fucked her right through it.

“Keep cumming on this dick. Wet this dick up. Give me all that shit. Don’t hold it in. Push it out.”

And she did.

She let go fully, pussy pulsing. Then squirting just enough to make it messy. Dripping down both their thighs. Body limp now, spent and twitching.

Erik hit her with two more strokes—deep, fast, full-body thrusts that slammed the air out of her chest—and then pulled out quick, grabbing the base of his dick, stroking hard, groaning through clenched teeth. His nut hit her lower back in thick ropes, hot and heavy, splattering across her brown skin.

Sanaa’s face twisted, head turning over her shoulder, breathless and confused. She was expecting to feel that thick cum deep inside her, like last time. She was used to being filled up by now. He promised…right? He said he would give it to her. 

“Wha—” she whispered, still catching her breath.

Erik wiped the tip of his dick along her back with a smirk, “Nah,” he said low, still out of breath, “This yo’ punishment.”

She blinked, stunned.

“You don’t get my nut in that pussy since you like to misbehave.” He leaned in close, hand still pressing her wrist behind her back, “Since you like to forget who run this.”

She didn’t say a word. All she could do was lay there—wrecked, messy, throbbing—and remember exactly who did. Sanaa lay stretched over the back of the sectional, skin flushed, back sticky with his nut, thighs trembling from everything he’d just pulled out of her. Her arms had gone soft, her breath unsteady, and her mouth twisted into a pout without her even meaning to.

Erik looked down at her, standing tall, chest rising heavy, dick glistening with her mess, still stiff despite the nut he just spilled across her back. Sweat clung to every inch of him—his shoulders, his stomach, the raised scars running down his torso like a story she still didn’t know all the way.

He chuckled under his breath, “Tsk, tsk,” he tsk’d, voice low, teasing, “Fix that pretty face.”

Sanaa’s eyes dragged up over him, slow and needy. He looked devastating. Sweaty, muscles shaking just slightly from how deep he’d been digging in her, jaw tight, arms flexed, locs damp. The type of fine that should’ve come with a warning. Her pussy clenched again, fluttering from the aftershocks.

Erik stepped in close, kneeling behind her, and his hand came to her thighs. Gentle this time. He slid his fingers up through the mess between her legs, rubbing her slow softly like she hadn’t just been fucked dumb minutes ago.

“Still twitchin’, huh?” he muttered, fingers slick.

Sanaa whined into the cushion, hips bucking just a little. He leaned in closer, hand rubbing smooth and lazy between her folds, voice dropping to something gentler.

“Shoulda done this last time. Left you layin’ in that mess like I ain’t care,” he spoke low, “Daddy sorry, baby.” His fingers moved in slow circles, not to tease, not to play, just to soothe her, ease her down, “I got you this time,” he said softly, “I’ll clean you up.”

Erik brought his hand back, glistening with her juices, and without breaking eye contact, slid his fingers into his mouth. Sucked them clean. Tongue slow. Eyes heavy.

Sanaa’s lips parted. Her body jerked again.

Erik stood tall, bent down, and wrapped an arm under her knees and one beneath her back. Lifted her right off the couch like she weighed nothing.

“C’mon, Princess,” he said, kissing her shoulder.

She rested her head against his chest, letting her eyes fall shut to the sound of his breath and the warmth of his skin. He carried her through the apartment like she was breakable. Straight into the bathroom.

And this time, he kept his word.

Erik set her down easy on the edge of the tub, her thighs still slick, her body soft and pliant with satisfaction. She leaned into the cool tile behind her while he crouched down to turn the water on. The sound filled the bathroom, a low calming rush that contrasted the filthy mess they’d just made in the other room.

He looked up at her, “What you like in your bath, Bri?” he asked, voice softer now, “Lavender? Eucalyptus? You got that little oil set in the basket over there, right?”

She blinked at him, still floating, then nodded slow, “Lavender…and them oatmeal salts.”

“Say less.”

He poured both into the tub, steam rising. The water turned cloudy, milky with oils. Once it filled, Erik tested the temperature with his fingers, then came back to lift her in. She melted right into the warmth, letting her muscles sink, a slow exhale leaving her lips as she settled. He knelt by the edge, fingers trailing along the surface. Then he cupped her chin, tilted her face to his, and kissed her hard. Deep. Mouth wet, tongue slick and slow. A filthy kiss laced with tenderness. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered.

“You gon’ be a good girl next time?” he asked, low and deliberate, “That’s the only way you get my nut back in that pussy.”

She bit her bottom lip, eyes heavy, “Yes, Daddy,” she said soft.

He stood with a smirk, leaned in to kiss her cheek, and let her relax back in the bath alone.

Out in the living room, Erik moved fast. He slid on his black sweats, no draws, the fabric hanging low on his hips, dick still half-hard against the cotton. He looked around. The throw blanket had caught most of her squirt—thank God.

He gathered it up, quick, then wiped down the couch cushion just to be safe. Lysol’d the air. Opened the balcony door a crack and flipped on the wax warmer sitting on the shelf. The scent hit quick. Fresh, clean. Like sandalwood and citrus. Masculine. Clean enough to erase every trace of Sanaa’s wet pussy from the air. He tossed the throw in the washer, punched in the cycle.

And just as he shut the lid, he heard the front door click.

Aaliyah stepped in with a classmate trailing behind her—tall, brown-skinned girl with a twist-out and big almond eyes.

Erik was still shirtless, sweat-slicked, skin glowing.

“You just came from the gym?” Aaliyah asked, eyeing him, voice suspicious.

The girl next to her was straight-up ogling.

“Girl.” Aaliyah side-eyed her. “Stop starin’ at my brother. Damn.” She turned back to Erik, “Can you put on a shirt or somethin’? You embarrassing me.”

Erik didn’t say shit. Just lifted a brow and turned away, letting the waistband of those sweats sit low while he walked off, back muscles flexing.

The girls slipped past toward Aaliyah’s room, giggling.

Aaliyah cracked the hallway bathroom door on her way.

“Hey, Bri!” she called, “Naima is here!”

Sanaa’s voice floated back, muffled and sweet through the steam.

“Hey, girl! Hey Naima!”

They disappeared into the bedroom. And Erik went back to cleaning like he wasn’t just rearranging that girl’s guts ten minutes ago.

______

Sanaa lingered in the steamy haze of the bathroom, the hot water from the tub slowly cooling around her as she tried to summon the strength to move. Her body felt heavy, every muscles protesting the effort, especially her legs—wobbly as if they’d been replaced with strands of overcooked noodles. The ache between her thighs was a persistent throb, her pussy tender and swollen from the way Erik had claimed her, that thick dick stretching her wide and leaving her feeling deliciously raw. She shifted slightly, a sharp twinge making her gasp, and ran her fingers lightly over her sensitive pussy lips, marveling at the lingering warmth. It wasn’t just the physical soreness; there was a deeper satisfaction, a glow that radiated from within making her skin flush with a post-climax haze that made everything seem a little dreamier, a little more alive.

Finally, she hauled herself out of the tub, water dropping from her body as she reached for her towel. After patting her skin enough to leave it damp to touch, Sanaa reached for her body oil on the shelf. She poured a generous amount into her hands, the sweet, floral scent of jasmine filling the bathroom. She smoothed it over her skin with delicate strokes, starting at her shoulders and working down, the oil gliding across her breasts, nipples still peaked and sensitive from Erik’s insistent touches. Then lower, where she paused to massage the slick warmth into her thighs and the soft mound of her pussy. Each gentle rub eased the ache a bit, but it also stirred faint echoes of pleasure, reminding her of how he’d pinned her against the sofa, his hands everywhere. 

Sanaa dressed in an oversized T-shirt that draped loosely over her frame and baggy pajama pants that did little to hide the slight waddle in her step. Sanaa caught her reflection in the fogged mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with that unmistakable afterglow, and she opened the door, the cool air of the hallway hitting her like a whisper of reality, making her acutely aware of how she moved. Her hips swayed unevenly as if the memory of Erik’s thrusts still echoed in her bones. 

Stepping into the hallway, Sanaa paused, listening to the muffled chatter from Aaliyah's room down the hall. But all she could focus on was the delicious soreness that made every step a reminder of what they’d shared. There was a quiet thrill in knowing he’d left his mark on her, a secret intimacy that made her heart race even as her body protested. Sanaa leaned against the wall for a moment, gathering herself before heading out towards the front of the apartment, her gait betraying her in a way that might draw curious eyes but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when the memory of his touch still lingered. 

Sanaa eased herself down onto the sofa, careful with her movements. The cushion dipped beneath her, familiar in a way that made her pulse jump. She smoothed her fingers over the fabric without thinking, slow circles pressed into the exact spot where her body had given out earlier. Her touch lingered there,  breath catching a little. The memory pushed through her like a warm flush.

Aaliyah’s door swung open. She came out talking a mile a minute with Naima right behind her, that tall girl with the twist-out and big almond eyes. They were laughing about something that happened in class, hands flying everywhere. Naima kept adjusting her crop top and trying to act like she wasn’t still thinking about Erik’s bare back.

They wandered into the living room, loud with gossip at the same time. Sanaa tried to appear normal. She tucked her legs under her, propped her elbow on the armrest, and let her hair fall over one shoulder. She could still feel her thighs tremble every time she moved them too close together. 

Erik came out without a sound. He had put a shirt on, but it did nothing to hide the shape of him. He leaned one shoulder against the entryway, arms crossed, quiet in that way that always made people look twice. His eyes swept the room, until they landed on her.

Sanaa’s chest tightened.

He held her gaze. Not for a second. Not accidental. He looked at her like he had already touched every part of her and remembered how she sounded when she came apart. His eyes lowered to her mouth, then the line of her throat, then the lazy drape of her T-shirt. Those dark eyes traveled back up and stayed locked on hers.

Something inside her slipped. Her breath stuttered. She dragged her fingers over the cushion again. Not consciously. Her body did it on its own. The fabric was soft but the reminder was not. Her spine curved in a slow arch she didn’t mean to show him. 

Erik’s jaw flexed. Subtle. The way he stood there felt like he was closing the space anyway. She felt his attention like a hand on the inside of her knee. Sanaa shifted and tried to hide the way her breath hitched. Her fingers closed around the cushion in a gentle grip.

Aaliyah collapsed into the armchair across from her, still talking to Naima, “Girl, my professor is wild. I swear he gave us a whole hour lecture on why folks don’t know how to email.” She rolled her eyes, “Sanaa, you heard me tell you about him before, right?”

Sanaa blinked. She tried to turn toward them, but Erik’s stare dragged over her again and her whole body tightened. Her throat bobbed when she swallowed. She could barely pull her eyes away. Her face felt hot. Her legs shifted in a slow, careful motion to try to relieve the pressure building inside her.

“You okay?” Aaliyah asked, laughing a little, “You look spaced out.”

Sanaa straightened, “Yeah. I’m cool.” She tried to smile, but it felt too shaky.

Naima plopped onto the other side of the sofa, “You sure? You look like you just woke up from a nap or somethin’.”

Sanaa nodded, “Long bath. Almost fell asleep in there.” 

Aaliyah snorted, “You actin’ like you had a whole spa day, bitch.” 

Erik lifted his chin just enough for her to see it. A private acknowledgment. Heat slid through her belly. Her breath dipped for a moment. She looked away too slow, giving herself away. But Aaliyah noticed none of it. She kept talking to Naima about a class group chat full of drama.

Erik kept his eyes on Sanaa.

Her chest rose in a slow inhale she tried to hide.

From across the room, Erik let his tongue slip across the inside of his cheek. His eyes did one more sweep of her legs tucked up on the sofa, the loose fall of her shirt, the glow still sitting on her skin.

Two Days Later…

It had only been two days. Forty-eight hours, give or take since Erik had lasted touched her, but Sanaa swore it felt longer than that. Her body was going through withdrawals. Brain scrambled. Pussy tight and aching. She’d been moving through the week with a short fuse and slick ass thighs, stuffing with no focus, scrolling with no real purpose, half way listening in class while replaying flashbacks of that big ass dick punishing her like it was made to shut her ass up. And it was worse because he was everywhere. Every time she looked up, there he was. Fine as hell and smelling like fresh linen and that clean, warm masculine scent that always unravels her. 

Now here she was, awake at 1:43 am, laying in bed with her T-shirt hiked up, fingers halfway between her legs but not doing a damn thing to satisfy her. She didn’t want to fuck herself. She didn’t want to use her vibrator. She wanted him. Big, slow, nasty. The way he bent her over left a permanent arch in her back. The way he fingered her pussy so good making her crave his fingers more than she’d ever wanted it. She remembered how he dragged his tongue over her clit, held her open, didn’t rush a thing. How he smirked with her taste on his face and her mess on his dick. 

That was the kind of dick she was missing. 

Sanaa sat up. 

Fuck this. 

Sanaa padded quietly into the hall, heart tapping against her ribs. She didn’t go straight to his room. She moved past it, tiptoeing down the hallway, pausing outside of Aaliyah’s door. 

Sanaa cracked it.

Inside, her friend was knocked out in bed, one leg tangled in the sheets, AirPods still in, the screen of her phone dimly lit beside her—notifications stacked, audiobook still playing from where it left off. Sanaa watched a beat longer, just to be sure. Aaliyah never stirred. Sanaa shut the door gently.  Then, she turned. Barely breathing. Tiptoed back towards her room. She closed her door shut and stood there in the quiet, body already warming up with a need she couldn’t sleep through. 

Sanaa moved in the silence, every step quiet, her breath low but her body already tingling with need. She turned the knob on Erik’s door gently, opening it just enough to peek inside.

He was there.

In bed, propped up on one arm, still awake. Lights low. No shirt. Joggers on. Those brown eyes locked on her from across the room like he’d been waiting on her to make a move. Sanaa’s heart jumped. Pussy throbbed hard.

She slipped inside without a word. Without an invite. 

If he didn’t stop her, she wasn’t leaving.

The door eased shut behind her like she was hiding. That quiet sneaking when you know exactly what you want and already made peace with not regretting it.

Click.

The soft click echoed, louder than it should’ve in the quiet. Her back pressed gently against the wood, breath stilling in her chest as her eyes adjusted to the dark. The room was low-lit—TV screen casting a dull blue glow across the bed, flickering shadows that danced over his skin. 

Erik was sitting up now. Sheets kicked low around his waist. His chest was bare, all deep bronze and hard lines, the keloid scars carved across him like stories she hadn’t read yet. His locs were pulled back in a loose tie, a few strands falling forward near his face. One of them touched his collarbone. 

He looked up at her, slow like he smelled something sweet.

That smile curved lazy on one side.

Sanaa stayed where she was for a second. Breathing steady. Head tilted. Eyes on his. Her lips were parted just a little, her skin glowing warm in the flicker of the screen. The steam from the treatment she’d done to her hair earlier still clung to her—moist spirals curled down her shoulders, parted deep on one side, sticking soft to her neck in places. Her earrings caught the light when she shifted—small diamonds, delicate, gleaming like she wore them on purpose just for this.

“What ya lil’ ass doing in my room,” he whispered, voice dipped and quiet.

Sanaa’s giggle came soft and pretty, tugging at the tension like a bowstring, “I miss you.”

Her voice floated out, feathered and smooth.But her eyes…they dropped. Traced the slope of his chest down to the spread of his thighs. Paused.

Stayed.

He caught it.

Erik stood, chest rising, that smirk never leaving his face. His body filled the space like a wall. He stepped forward, looking down at her.

“Miss me,” he asked, voice low, “or this dick, baby? Don’t lie either.”

She looked up at him, face calm but eyes sparkling, “Both…but that dick more.”

Erik chuckled, a sharp inhale through his nose and teeth. He shook his head slow like she was ridiculous, but he liked it, “You a fuckin’ trip,” he said under his breath. “I like that shit though.”

His hand came up, cupped the side of her face. Thumb dragged across her bottom lip once. Then he just looked at her. His hand stayed at her face, that thumb still resting at the edge of her lip. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes. Then again. Sanaa tilted her chin just a little, lips parted, like she was already ready. Already his. He dipped down slow. Broad shoulders lowering. Those dark eyes never leaving hers until the last second, just before their mouths touched.

That first kiss landed deep. Full lips locking, warm and firm. The second kiss came harder. Slower. Wet. His mouth molded over hers like he needed to feel all of it, like he wanted to memorize the shape of her.

Sanaa rose to her tiptoes, soft whimper sliding from her throat as her nails dragged gently down his chest—just enough to tease, just enough to make him grunt through the kiss. Her hands slipped up, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling herself higher, pressing against him like she couldn’t get close enough. Erik’s hands found her waist—strong and steady, wide palms spreading over her curves. He squeezed once, then pulled her in. Closer. Like he wanted to fuse her body to his. Like letting go wasn’t an option.

Their tongues met slow at first, a slick drag and pull. Lips parting, breath catching, tongues twining together deeper with each pass. It got greedy quick. Messier. Their mouths didn’t break—not for air, not for hesitation. It was all teeth, breath, tongue, lips.

Sanaa whimpered again. Quiet. Needful.

Erik groaned low, brows pulling together like the taste of her made his brain short-circuit. He pushed her back just enough to hit the wall, never breaking the kiss, just changing the angle. Bent down deeper, mouth slanted harder, tongue sinking past her lips like he was searching for something inside her.

Their mouths broke with a wet drag, a soft gasp passing between them as the seal of that kiss finally snapped. The air felt thin now—heated and stolen. Sanaa’s lips were swollen, slick, tingling from how hard he’d kissed her. Her chest rose and fell fast, trying to catch up to what just happened.

Erik didn’t move far. He hovered close, breath heavy, beard brushing against her cheek as he looked down at her. His hands slid slow around the curve of her waist. Tracing the lines of her body like he was mapping it out. Then—

He gripped her ass.

Firm.

Both hands full, kneading deep. Like he liked the weight of it. Like it was his to touch. His thumbs dug in low at the crease and dragged upward in one long pull before settling back to squeeze again. That touch made her thighs press together, tight.

She let out a soft, shaky breath.

Erik dipped his head, lips finding her neck. Not gentle. He kissed her there like he’d been thinking about it. Like he needed that taste. His mouth opened wide against her skin, licking slow, sucking deeper right beneath her ear. Her knees buckled a little, but his grip held her steady.

Sanaa’s nipples hardened instantly beneath her shirt. That slick heat between her thighs had already started during the kiss, but now it pulsed. Her panties were damp—soaked—and she could feel how warm her body had become. Every inch of her was on edge, hyper-aware. Skin buzzing. Goosebumps scattered along her arms, down her thighs.

She threaded her fingers through his locs. They were soft but thick, clean and slightly damp at the ends like he’d washed them not long ago. Her nails scraped gently across his scalp. Erik groaned low at the touch, mouth dragging down to her collarbone, then back up to the hinge of her jaw where he sucked hard, slow, like he wanted to leave something behind.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Her palm slid down his arm, feeling the way his biceps flexed under her touch—solid, thick, heavy muscle wrapped in warm, clean skin. She could feel the raised texture of his keloid scars there. Jagged. Firm. Like battle marks beneath her fingers. She stroked one with her thumb, slow and curious. They didn’t scare her. They made her ache for him.

Her hips shifted. Just enough for her pussy to brush against the front of his sweats. Her breath hitched. He hadn’t even touched her there, but her body was already aching. Already clenching. And Erik just kept licking her neck slow, one arm wrapped around her waist now, hand still locked tight on her ass. His lips dragged up to her ear.

“You feelin’ all that, huh,” he whispered low.

She whimpered again. Fingers curled in his hair. Pussy pulsing.

Yeah. She was feeling everything.

Her lip was already caught between her teeth, but now she bit it harder. Soft. Pretty. Like her body was trying to keep it together even while her pussy was giving her away.

Because she was feelin’ it. Every word he whispered, every grip, every drag of his mouth down her neck had her soaking through. Wetness growing slow and steady, deeper now. And that voice?

That voice was the switch.

“Killmonger,” she whispered, mouth close to his ear, “You make my pussy wet.”

She felt it. His dick twitched against her belly, thick and heavy through the cotton of his sweats.

Erik stilled.

His stare dropped to her face, slow and hard. Like he couldn’t believe she said that shit. Like he loved that she said it. His lips parted just slightly, breath catching, those gold slugs flashing through for half a second. Everything in his body tightened.

Her breath got softer, more shallow, but her hand moved with purpose. She reached for him. Found his hand—big, warm, calloused. Brought it to her mouth. Her eyes didn’t leave his as she lifted one of his fingers. Her lashes dropped low as she sucked it in slow, lips parting wide, tongue dragging up the underside. Wet and thick. Spit coating it. She pulled back just enough for it to stretch in a string before swallowing him again.

His jaw clenched. He didn’t even blink.

That look in his eyes? Changed. The second she said Killmonger, it flipped something inside him. Set him off quiet. But it wasn’t just in his stare—it was in how his chest rose higher now, how his dick was pressed harder into her, how his finger curled in her mouth just a little like he wanted to feel her suck for real. She let her lips pop off his fingertip, slick with her spit. Still looking up at him. Slow blinks. Pussy damn near dripping now.

“Say it again,” he rasped, voice tighter. Rougher.

Her lips curved just a little when he told her to say it again. She leaned in, breath brushing his mouth, voice low and teasing.

“Should I be scared, Killmonger…or wet?”

The way his eyes darkened told her everything. Before he could even answer, Sanaa grabbed his hand and dragged it down between her thighs. Guided it right where she needed him. Right where she was soaked. His fingers slid against her through her panties and shirt hem, instantly slick.

He felt it. All of it. Warm. Wet. Slippery.

“Damn,” he breathed.

She lifted one leg and wrapped it around his waist, foot hooking behind him. Erik caught it without thinking, strong arm locking under her thigh, holding her up like she weighed nothing. Her body tilted into him, pussy pressed right against his hand now.

He started rubbing. Back and forth. Back and forth. His palm and fingers moving over her folds, spreading that wetness, listening to the soft, obscene sound it made. His eyes stayed glued to his hand. Watching her open. Watching her react.

Sanaa’s head fell back against the wall. A soft moan slipped out. Then another. He rubbed faster with more pressure. Then he slid two fingers inside her. Fast. Hard. Deep. Finger popped her with quick, sharp thrusts that made her whole body jolt.

“Ah…Erik…” she gasped.

Her walls clenched around him immediately. Tight. Greedy. Wet as hell. He slowed. Pulled almost all the way out. Then went back to rubbing her again. Circling her clit. Dragging through her folds. Tapping her pussy lips lightly with his fingertips. Little wet pats that made quiet, filthy sounds every time he touched her. You could hear how soaked she was.

Plap. Plap. Slick. Wet.

Sanaa couldn’t help it. Her moan came out louder this time. Breathless. Shaky.

“Mmm…oh my God…”

Erik snapped his eyes up to her face. Gave her that look. That warning.

“Quiet all that noise down, girl,” he whispered rough, “Before you get us caught in this bitch.”

She bit her lip. Tried to behave. Failed immediately. Still breathing hard, still shaking on his hand, she leaned in close and whispered back with a soft, cocky smile.

“I like him better than you.”

His brows pulled together, “What?”

She blinked up at him, innocent and messy and soaking wet, “Killmonger,” she added, “He don’t play.”

The way his jaw clenched told her she had just started something she was not ready to finish running from.

Erik didn’t say a word. Just looked at her. That look. Then, he grabbed her. Lifted her clean off the floor like she was nothing but breath and softness. All strength. Arms locked tight around her thighs, body pulled up against his chest. Sanaa gasped, arms flying around his shoulders, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

She loved when he handled her like that. Like she was his to pick up. His to move. His to fuck. He walked them over to the bed, dropped down at the edge, thighs spread, letting her settle in his lap with a soft bounce. She was straddling him now, nose to nose. Pussy right on top of that thick dick he kept pressing up through those damn sweats. Her eyes flicked down, smirk blooming on her lips.

But first, she kissed him again. Sucked his bottom lip slow, tugging it between her teeth. Let her tongue swirl there, lazy and wet. Erik’s hands were already moving. Palms dragging up under her shirt, fingers splaying over her back, her sides, her ribs. Exploring. Then, he found her breasts. Warm, soft, perfect in his hands. He groaned against her mouth, thumbs brushing over her nipples slow at first, then rolling them. Playing. Testing. Teasing. She whimpered into the kiss. Back arched a little. Her pussy grinding against him now with more purpose.

His dick jumped again beneath her. Hard. Sanaa felt it. Felt the way it pulsed between her legs—thick and eager, like it recognized her.

She pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, “You so excited about gettin’ in this pussy again, huh?”

He just stared at her. Breathing hard. Dick twitching again.

Sanaa licked her lips slow, still grinding on him, “You miss it that bad?” she teased.

She already knew the answer. But it was the way his hands gripped her tighter, the way his eyes dropped to her mouth like he was ready to devour her whole, that told her…

Yeah.

He did.

_______

He barely had time to react.

One minute, Erik was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders broad and chest rising steady with heat behind his eyes and the next she was pushing him back, palms flat on the firm press of his pecs. His body hit the bed. He didn’t bounce. Just laid there and let her take over. 

Sanaa stood with her legs planted between his. Her eyes looked on him with that knowing look that made his dick twitch without being touched. Tension taut in the air like elastic about to snap. Sanaa lifted her shirt up in a slow strip tease, arms raised above her head as her brown tits with chocolate nipples bounced free. Erik’s eyes followed the movement, tongue pressing to the back of his teeth. That body? That fucking body? Smooth, slick little thing with curves that begged to be bent, gripped, and rearranged. 

Sanaa tossed the shirt somewhere behind her, not caring where it landed and turned around, back facing him. She looked over her shoulder, lips curved like she already knew she was about to drive him wild. 

Then she started moving.

Her bare ass rubbed over the front of his joggers, dragging back and forth right over where he was thickest. That bubbly ass bounced with every grind. Her movements were cocky, teasing just enough friction to feel him throb underneath. 

Erik spread his legs wider, letting her settle in deeper.

“Mm,” she exhaled, bracing herself on his knees, “That what I’m sittin’ on?”

His hands gripped her hips for a second before sliding back, cupping both cheeks and letting them go with a light smack—then another. He alternated between left and right, just enough to make the skin ripple. His palms opened wide when they landed, fingers splaying across her ass like he was measuring it. 

Sanaa let out a breathy gasp when he gripped one cheek tighter, spreading her just enough to feel how warm it was right underneath. She started bouncing then, hips rising and falling, grinding down with her back arched and her ass clapping gently over the ridge of his dick. Every bounce pressed her pussy closer, making him grunt low and strained through his teeth. Erik’s eyes dropped closed for a second but the tension in his jaw and the way his nostrils flared said everything.

“Fuck,” he groaned. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t surprised. It dragged out of him, heavy and grateful.

That lil’ ass was showin’ out.

Erik reached for her again. He gripped her ass tighter with both hands now, holding her steady as she rocked her hips in circles, letting the bounce turn into a whine and then back again. The weight of her body against his dick was just enough to torment him. 

“You tryna make me nut in my draws?” His voice was low. Raspy. Too calm to match how badly he was leaking, “You gon’ keep fuckin’ playin’ with me like that?” His voice turned darker, filthier, each word sliding out like syrup, “Look at this lil’ pussy bouncin’. So fuckin’ wet. You really want it that bad, huh? Want me to slide in slow, or you want that deep shit that make you shake? That make your legs give out right here in front of me?”

She whimpered soft. Didn’t stop riding.

Erik popped her ass again, this time with a little more weight behind it. Sanaa jolted, the sound she made after—low, needy, breathy—made his dick jump. Erik sat up just a little, wrapping an arm around her waist so he could pull her back flush against him. His mouth touched the back of her neck, teeth grazing her shoulder. His voice was in her ear, filthy as ever. 

“Bounce that shit one more time. Just like that. Lemme see how bad you want it.”

Sanaa obeyed. Started riding like she knew it was her job. And that dick? It was twitching like a loaded gun, waiting for the right moment to go off.

She arched deeper.

That pretty curve in her spine dipped low as she braced herself harder on his knees, pressing her palms flat while she started bouncing heavier. Each rise and drop sent her ass into his lap with a slick clap that had his eyes rolling up just a second. That little ass movies like she had rhythm built into it. Round. Greedy. Warm. She knew what she was doing riding the shape of his dick through the fabric like she was tryna imprint it. 

Erik exhaled hard through his nose, chest rising with restraint. His fists clenched at his sides, trying not to grab her and flip her over.

He gritted through his teeth, jaw tight,  “I swear to fuckin’ god—”

Another bounce.

“If we ain’t have to be quiet—”

Another slow grind, her pussy pressing right over the head of his dick.

“I’d be poundin’ yo’ ass into this mattress right now.”

Sanaa turned her head slightly, voice breathy, teasing but drenched in need, “How would you pound me, Daddy?”

That did it.

Erik’s hand came up, dragging down her spine, settling heavy on her lower back to hold her in that perfect arch. His other hand spread across her ass again, squeezing till her breath hitched. His voice dropped low behind her, all gravel and grit like he was about to break his own rules. 

“I’d grab the back of that fuckin’ neck,” he said, slow and deep, “Make you stay right here, in that arch. Then slide this dick in slow, all the way. Let you feel every inch sittin’ in your stomach.”

Sanaa whimpered.

“I’d hold you down with my hand on your back like this. Pull out halfway, then fuck the rest back in. Deep. You’d take it.” He leaned in closer, mouth at her ear now, “I’d fuck you hard. Both hands on this pretty ass, spreadin’ it while I beat that pussy up like it owe me. You’d be takin’ all that pressure. My dick draggin’ your walls, hittin’ that deep spot.” He paused. Licked his lips, “You’d be creamin’ all over it too. I already know.”

Sanaa’s thighs trembled slightly. She pushed her ass back harder into him, grinding slow.

He grunted, low and dangerous, “I’d tear you up, lil’ freak. You fuckin’ deserve it. You make me crave that sweet lil’ pussy so bad it hurt. Got me talkin’ like this with your ass in my lap, knowin’ I can’t even slide in how I really wanna. You proud of that?”

She nodded, hips rolling slow and nasty, pussy gliding over the length of him like she wanted to make him break.

Erik let out a slow exhale, head tilting back, voice full of warning, “Keep fuckin’ playin’, Sanaa. Keep on. I’ll dig so far in this pussy, you gon’ feel me every time you sit down.”

He sucked his teeth, sharp and low. Tsk.

That was his warning.

His hand slid up her thigh, then down again, gripping the back of her leg. Sanaa could feel his chest rising behind her, muscles flexed, breathing thick with control he was barely holding onto. 

“Bring that ass up here,” he growled, voice coated in that dark Daddy tone that always made her body go hot, “Scoot it up. Sit that pretty pussy on my face.”

Before she could even pretend to hesitate his palm cracked against her ass. A quick, low pop that made her gasp. 

He leaned up, eyes heavy, voice even heavier, “Now. Fuck I say?”

Another smack. This time harder. Made her thighs shake.

Sanaa scrambled to obey, breath shaky as she shifted backward on her knees and climbed up, straddling his chest first then inching her way higher. Her thighs opened, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his head. Her body trembled a little from the anticipation, pussy sticky and throbbing. 

She hovered over his mouth, dripping. Erik looked up at her like she was dinner. Then, he wrapped those thick arms under her thighs and locked her in. Hooked her so she couldn’t run even if she wanted to. He yanked her down onto his mouth with no hesitation, tongue poked out, ready to taste. 

The moment her pussy met his tongue, Sanaa moaned sharp and grabbed the sheets. That first swipe was so nasty, dragging right through her lips. Erik kept his tongue stiff so every time she shifted or bounced it licked her just right. He wasn’t playing. He was focused. His big hands gripped her thighs tight and started guiding her—lifting and dropping her like she was nothing but weightless. He bounced her on his tongue like she was sittin’ on a damn throne, letting her ride the shape of it while he groaned low into her pussy. Each bounce smeared that slick gushy mess all over his face. Erik kept that tongue out, swiping, lapping, savoring, owning. 

“Fuck,” she gasped, voice cracking.

His hands squeezed tighter. His tongue flattened, then curled up at the tip to flick her clit, “You gon’ nut like this, huh?” he rasped between licks,  “On Daddy’s face? That’s what you needed?”

Sanaa’s moaned we’re the only response he needed. Her hips started moving on their own, syncing with his tongue, with his grip, with that deep, filthy hunger he poured onto every swipe. 

Erik stayed locked in. Tongue out. Mouth open. Breathing through his nose while he licked and sucked that soaked little pussy like it was his full-time job. No gentleness. Erik lapped at her with heat in his throat, groaning into her pussy. That pussy was sittin’ so perfect on his face, tasting better than anything he could’ve imagined. 

“Look at that,” he growled between sucks, lips shiny and swollen from how deep he was in it. “Leakin’ on my face. You fuckin’ drownin’ me, Sanaa. That lil’ pussy so wet, I could drink it.”

Erik wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hard, then let it go with a kiss right on the hood. His tongue dragged flat and slow through her lips again, catching all that creamy wetness she couldn’t stop giving. 

“You feel that? The way I lick it like that?,” he said, tongue circling her clit now, “Got this pussy gushin’ like that? You make a mess every time I touch it.”

Sanaa’s eyes fluttered, jaw slack, her body rocking helplessly over his mouth. She couldn’t think straight. Could barely hold herself up. Her thighs were trembling from the overstimulation. From the precision of his mouth. From the way he talked to her pussy like he was tryna keep her under control. 

But she needed him. Needed all of him.

So her hand reached down, blind and shaky, until he fingers landed on the bulge under his joggers. That dick was HARD. Thick and curved to the left, pressed up against the inside of his joggers like it was tryna break free. Sanaa wrapped her hand around the length of it through the fabric and started stroking. 

Erik’s groan rumbled against her pussy the second she touched it, “Fuck,” he breathed, licking her faster, Yeah. Stroke it, baby. Play with Daddy dick while I eat this pussy. That’s it.”

Sanaa gripped tighter. Her fingers curled spring the shape of him as she pumped. He twitched against he palm thick and hot. Sanaa moaned when she felt another wave of gushy mess slide out and coat his face. 

“Oh my god—Erik…”

“Keep fuckin’ moanin’, Sanaa,” he grunted against her clit, “That’s what the fuck I like. Cream on my tongue like that. Make a mess for me. This Daddy’s pussy, right?”

Sanaa nodded frantically, eyes crossing, fingers slipping from the sheets, reaching back to his locs now, tugging, anchoring herself. Her hips were rocking hard, chasing that release, grinding her clit on his tongue, lips, nose, anywhere with zero shame. Her breath came fast and shaky like she couldn’t get enough air. Erik wanted her to lose control. To cum so hard sh collapsed on his mouth, twitching and helpless. 

He licked like a gluttonous man.. his grip got tighter. Big Jan’s flexed under her thighs, keeping her exactly where he wanted her—on his fucking face with no escape. His full lips were wet and pillowy, beard soaked and ticklish. That thick tongue worked her lokeche was fluent in her body, fluent in that pussy. Every lick had her dizzy. Every suck felt like a punishment and reward all at once. He devoured her like he knew he’d never get enough. 

Then his voice came up again—deep, filthy, dominant.

“This Daddy’s pussy?” he growled, tongue flicking fast on her clit, “Say it.”

Sanaa whimpered, nodding, hands sliding down his abs for balance. Erik licked through her folds slower, then he sucked hard on her clit again until her thighs shook. 

“I eat it good for you, baby?”

His voice was all pride and filth. That nasty, cocky tone that made her cunt tighten around nothing. She was creaming so much it slid down his chin. 

“Best head you ever had in your life, huh?” he rasped, kissing her slit with slow, open-mouthed sucks like it was the only thing he wanted on his tongue for the rest of his life, “You couldn’t wait, huh?” Another lick, “Couldn’t fuckin’ wait to feel my tongue in you.”

Sanaa moaned loud, trying to ride his face harder, chasing the pressure.

Erik slapped her ass with one hand and bounced her on his mouth, “Nah, show me. Show me how bad you wanted it.” His voice dropped even lower, every word dripping with that Daddy dom authority, “Come sit this lil’ pussy all the way down. I want you to fuck my face, Sanaa.”

She did it.

Rolled her hips, fucked back on his pointed tongue while he licked through her. Erik kept his tongue out, lips open, letting her slide over it again and again while she stroked his dick through his pants. Sanaa could feel the tip jump under her palm. 

He groaned, “Cum in my mouth, greedy girl,” he said, tongue pressed flat against her clit, fingers digging into her thighs. “Lemme taste what you been holdin’ for me. Go ‘head and let it go, baby,” he whispered, breath hot on her folds, “Cream all on Daddy face. Don’t hold that shit.”

It hit her slow.

Not a crash, not a wave—but a pull. Like every nerve in her body got strung tight then snapped loose all at once. Her breath caught in her throat. Hips locked mid-roll. Sanaa stopped moving. Just frozen right there on his mouth. Legs spread, chest heaving, hands clawed into the sheets. Her thighs started quivering in slow motion—one, then the other—muscles didn’t know what to do with all that pleasure. A long, soft moan spilled out of mouth shaky and high like. Note being sung just for him. 

“…shit…” she whispered, voice thin.

She wasn’t loud, she was sweet with it. Sensitive. Her whole body reacting in these tiny, helpless jolts like aftershocks. Her clit was swollen and throbbing on his tongue, pussy fluttering from the inside out as the orgasm gripped her full-body. 

“Oooooooo…” she sang, soft and breathless, back starting to arch, “Unhhhhhh…”

Sanaa clenched down on his face and Erik knew she was cumming for real. Felt that hot cream spilling over his mouth, his tongue catching every bit of it. Sanaa wasn’t squirting but she was gushing—wet enough to drown him and still he didn’t pull back. Erik growled under her, biceps flexing to hold her tighter as she tried to lift off his face. She was overstimulated now—body twitching, hands slipping, but Erik refused to let go. 

“Uh uh,” he grunted, locking her down.

Sanaa whined. Tried to rock back, but he angled his face just right and buried his tongue deeper into that pulsing pussy, tip pointed, firm, collecting her release because it was his. He earned it. Her voice was all shaky hums and pretty little cries. She was somewhere between passing out and floating. And Erik stayed right there. Tongue moving, lips sucking, face soaked, beard coated.

He was feeding. 

_______

Sanaa finally lifted off him, her thighs trembling as she scooted back on unsteady knees. Her pussy was still fluttering and dripping, her whole body moving like it had been fucked already even though he hasn’t touched her with anything but those thick fingers, his lips, and his tongue. 

Erik licked his lips, chin shining.

But before he could say a word, she leaned in close and kissed him.

Gentle at first. Then deeper. Lips parting, tongues flicking. Sanaa kissed him slowly like she was tasting herself, pulling the cream from his mouth, licking at the corners and sucking his bottom lip between hers like she needed to clean it all up. Her right hand cradled his jaw, rubbing against his beard while the other hand stroked the scar along his left cheek like she loved every inch of where she sat just moments ago. 

Then, she pulled back. A little smirk playing at her lips, one curl falling over her cheek softening the look in her eyes. Like she wasn’t just riding his face. 

Erik raised his brows, still catching his breath.

She gave a sweet little shrug, “What?”

Sanaa dropped her gaze down and tugged at the waistband of his joggers. She pulled them down, teasing, eyes low and sultry, a soft chuckle at his expression. Her curls skipped forward, swinging as she peeled the fabric past his hips.

Thwap

That dick sprang out heavy, pulsing, leaking. Veins thick. The shaft girthy and standing straight up lie a flesh-covered rod just like she remembered. But nothing compares to seeing it up close like this—free, two-toned, hard, balls hanging low and full underneath. 

“Damn…” she whispered with a shaky breath and a low, almost reverent chuckle.

Sanaa slapped it against her palm once. Then twice. The round was wet and heavy. Her eyes got lower. A little smile pulled at her lips like she was impressed all over again.

“This what you be hidin’ in them sweats?” she said, voice teasing, fingers wrapping slowly around the base, “This dick too fuckin’ big. You outta pocket for this.” She stroked up once. Grip tightening, “I can hardly wrap my fingers around it all the way. Look at this shit.” She licked her lips. Then looked back up at him, face soft, voice low, “This what you tryna fuck me with, Daddy?”

Erik’s eyes dropped to her hand and flared when he saw how small it looked against the length of him. He didn’t answer because his dick was already answering for him—throbbing, leaking, ready to ruin her. Erik was already leaning back on his elbow la when she positioned herself on the bed over his lap slow and sultry, while body still humming from that climax. She got on her knees beside him. 

The mirror across the room caught it all—full-length, angled just right. From his spot, Erik could see everything. Sanaa bent forward, face hovering over the heavy length of him. Her breath touched his tip first—warm, wet, teasing—and he twitched in response. Sanaa glanced up at him through those lashes, giving him that same pretty, quiet smile she wore when she was being the nastiest. Her curls framed her face, half-wild, and fell forward as she leaned lower. Erik reached out and gathered her curls with one hand. Smoothed them back from her face so he could see all of her. 

“Lemme watch, ma,” he said under his breath, voice hoarse, stomach flexing.

And she let him.

Sanaa wrapped her lips around the tip, eyes never leaving his as she sucked him in. The head disappeared first, glistening from how much he was leaking. Her hand followed, stroking the base with soft pressure as she eased more of him into her mouth.

Erik’s breath stuttered. His jaw clenched.

She made it wet. Spit trickled from the corners of her mouth down his shaft, hand gliding through it. She stroked with a twist, lips stretched tight, cheeks hollowing just enough to drive him mad. 

The sound of it was nasty. All lips and slick and soft suction.

Schlk…schlk…glck…

Erik’s eyes fell to their reflection. It was a sight to see. Her head bobbing. Ass arched. He saw the wet trail her mouth left behind as she sucked. The spit strings that stretched when she came up for air. Her tongue glided over the tip before she went back down like she couldn’t get enough. Erik’s free hand slid under her body, fingers curling between her thighs. He rubbed her pussy lips, eyes widening when he felt it. 

“Goddamn,” he muttered.

Sanaa was soaked. Dripping to his sheets. That creamy mess from earlier leaking, mixed with more slick every time she moaned around his dick. Erik rubbed her with his fingertips—middle and ring working in circles over her clit. His lips parted around an exhale. The feel of her pussy on his fingers made his dick throb in her mouth. Sanaa wasn’t expecting that, her tongue slipping along the bottom of his shaft causing his tip to nudge her uvula. Erik’s brows pinched. His expression was somewhere between awe and obsession. Her pussy juices still staining his face. He looked dazed. 

Sanaa couldn’t take all of him but she took enough. She did just right. Her lips made love to every inch she could handle, twisting her wrist at the base, sloppily gliding her tongue under the head, then up the slit. Her tongue flicked fast before sucking him down again, swallowing spot just to start over wetter. Erik’s thighs flexed. His head dropped back for a moment but his hand stayed in her curls. His fingers stayed rubbing that messy pussy. 

“Keep goin’, baby,” he grunted, voice breaking, “Suck that shit slow. Just like that.”

And she did. Making him watch. Making him feel. Making him lose every ounce of control he had left.

Erik’s whole body stilled. Except his hand. The one in her curls. Stroking, gripping, guiding like he needed to stay connected. Like touching her helped him keep a grip on reality while she sucked the soul out of him. His head tilted, eyes flicking down at her then back on the mirror. 

The look on his face? Wrecked.

Brows dipped but not from anger. His mouth parted just enough for his breath to drag out heavy. His eyes low, dark, locked on her. Watching every glide of her lips over his length. Every bounce of her curls. Every flex of her hand as she stroked what her mouth couldn’t handle. His tongue dragged over his bottom lip. 

He started whispering, “Yeah…look at you. Pretty lil’ mouth on my shit.” The tip of his tongue peeked out again—barely, “Messy as fuck. Just how I like it.” His voice dropped to a whisper, all gravel and heat, just for her to hear, “Sound like you tryna fuckin’ drown on it.”

Her mouth slurped around him harder, tongue swirling, spit dripping.

“You love this dick, huh?” he rasped, “Love suckin’ it slow, suckin’ it nasty?” 

Her eyes flicked up toward his, and he damn near lost it. That look she gave him while her lips were stretched over his shaft made his breath catch in his throat.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, softer now, but still filthy, “Look so sweet with my shit in your mouth.” He leaned back a little further, but his eyes didn’t leave the mirror, “Whole face wet. Drippin’. You look like you needed it.” His hand slipped lower between her thighs again. His fingers came back wet. He held them up and looked down at her.

“This you?”

She moaned around him.

Erik chuckled under his breath. His smile was crooked. Sly. Sinful, “You that wet from suckin’ my dick?” He brought his fingers to her lips and smeared her slick across them while she still had him in her mouth.

“Greedy ass lil’ slut,” he whispered, “You love this shit. Can’t even help it.” Then his voice dropped to a low warning, “Don’t stop.” He was breathing heavier now, chest rising, watching her like she was his favorite slut. One he knew would fuck him up but he couldn’t put down.

“Keep suckin’ Daddy nice and slow. Let me see that spit shine. I wanna see that mouth stretch when I nut in it.”

Erik was barely breathing from how hard he was holding back. Every muscle in his stomach flexed. His thighs spread wide, chest lifting just enough to show he was still alive under her mouth. That mirror reflection was his favorite movie now. Her lips wet and stretched, that little hand working the rest that couldn’t fit down her throat, pink tongue teasing his tip, those doe eyes looking up at him like she knew she had him.

She was moaning on it now.

Soft, sweet little hums vibrating against his dick. Pulling back to give him tender kisses down the shaft, lips barely touching. Hand twisting and keeping that pressure tight. Her moans got deeper as she slid down further.

Erik exhaled hard through his nose, eyes hooded, his hand still gripping her curls with a soft dominance, “I’ma nut on your lips,” he whispered, voice gritty, low, and full of warning, “Gon’ give you what you fuckin’ want.”

Her eyes flicked up. And that was it.

That was his trigger.

Sanaa kept moaning around him, sloppier now, spit dripping down her chin, lips swollen, throat working as she bobbed. And when she reached under, cupping his balls and started massaging? Erik’s body jerked. His head dropped back for a second before he snapped it forward again, watching her mouth like he needed it memorized. 

“You tryna swallow all that nut, huh?” he hissed, “Mouth stretched like a good girl.”

She gave him a low moan in response. “Mmmhmm.” 

Didn’t stop moving. She slid her lips up with a wet glide, kissed the top with a filthy smack, then sucked it back in with a twist of her wrist. Her tongue teased the underside of his shaft every time she came up, dragging across that sensitive line beneath his head. 

“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice breaking, “You a problem, Sanaa.”

Sanaa moaned again, like she could feel how close he was. She knew. She could hear it in his breath, feel it in the way his thighs twitched beneath her. Could see it in the way his hand gripped her hair tighter.

 Erik leaned forward a little, watching the mess she was making on his dick, “You hear how wet that shit sound?” he whispered, voice gravel and filth, “That’s you. That’s that greedy ass mouth.”

Her moans turned into soft whimpers. Sanaa pulled off just enough to kiss the tip. 

“Slap it on your tongue…mmm…good girl…”

Sanaa poked her tongue out and slapped that hard dick on it. Wet tongue covered in drool dripping down his dick each time she did it. 

“You wanna fuck my throat, Daddy?”

His hand twitched in her curls.

“Say the word. I’ll let you.”

Erik grunted low, like his whole body was threatening to come undone. He needed control. 

“Nah…keep suckin’ just like that,” he said, jaw slack, eyes trained on her mouth, “Let me nut slow. I want you feelin’ all of it.”

That shit went in one ear and out the other. 

Erik’s thick fingers tangled in Sanaa’s hair, his heavy balls brushing her wrist with each stroke. Erik groaned low, abs tightening under his scarred skin, “Slow, baby girl,” Erik commanded, voice rough and edged with warning, locs falling over his shoulder as he looked down at her, “Suck daddy’s dick nice and slow. Tease it out.” 

But Sanaa didn’t listen, her bratty spark igniting as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder, tongue swirling fast around the throbbing underside of his girthy shaft. One hand gripped the base, stroking up and down in quick, twisting pumps that made his length slick with her spit while her mouth plunged deeper, taking him to the back of her throat with a wet gag that echoed in the room. Sanaa pulled off just enough to slurp noisily at the top, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his swollen head before diving back in, gagging herself on his full length, throat convulsing around the invasion. 

Erik looked down at her like he was in a trance. He was trying. Really trying. Chest rising slow, eyes squeezed shut. That vein in his neck pulsing. But his thighs were flexin’ up off the bed every time her tongue swirled right beneath the tip.

“Fuckkkkk” he hissed, voice low, tight, “You tryna make me bust, huh?”

She ignored him. Just slid her lips down again, took more of him in. Wet ass mouth clenching around him. Hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach.

Erik’s fingers gripped tighter, pulling her down with slow force. His stomach jumped. That nut was sitting heavy—low, “Damn,” he groaned, hips pushing up against her face. “Slow down, ma. Let me—shit. Let me breathe. Fuck, Sanaa, I said slow—”

She didn’t slow down. She moaned around his dick instead. Real soft. Real nasty.

That shit went straight to his balls, “You tryna make daddy bust quick? I said suck this dick slow—tease it, slut. Don’t make me on your head and fuck your throat myself.”

Sanaa giggled with his dick in her mouth. 

Erik looked down at her, that pretty mouth stretched wide. Drool on her chin. Hand strokin’ tight while her tongue flicked with intention. She wanted him to lose it. Wanted that nut sittin’ heavy in balls to come up out of him. His breath got short. Neck stiff. Thighs flexing. 

“Aight. Aight, that’s it—fuck,” he growled low, “You want this nut? You better take all that shit. Don’t you pull off. Don’t you run—fuck. Take that nut,” he growled, voice tight as his body bucked, hands gripping her head while his release spilled across her tongue, “Fuck…there you go. Keep suckin’, ma…fuuuck.”

Erik’s hips bucked once. Then again. Deep strokes into her throat now, not even thinking straight. Dick pulsing hard in her mouth. He gripped her hair, held her still. His whole body locked up. That nut tore through him from the spine out. 

“Yeah…take that shit,” he groaned, voice breaking in his throat. “Take every fuckin’ drop.”

That dick unleashed ropes of hot cum straight down her gullet. The salty flood coated her mouth, overflowing past her stretched lips in creamy dribbles that trailed down her chin but she swallowed greedily—throat bobbing with each forceful gulp, humming low as she savored his load. 

Erik didn’t even move after. He just leaned back on his hands, chest heaving, dick twitching with aftershocks. 

“You a goddamn problem.”

Sanaa let it sit on her tongue, then she licked the top clean with one last moan, never breaking eye contact.

_______

Erik was gone. 

Stretched out, chest rising, eyes barely open. That nut had him slumped for a moment, muscles twitching, still feeling the aftershock like it snatched something up outta him. But Sanaa? She wasn’t done. Far from it. And knowing that surged through Erik, fueling him for more to put her in her place. For walking in his room looking the way she always do—fine, sexy, gorgeous little coco puff. 

She let his dick slip from her mouth with a wet pop…then did it again. And again. Kissing it, sucking just the tip, letting her spit drag before popping her lips off it like she ain’t just milk the soul outta him. 

“Ma—chill…” he warned low, hips twitchin’.

But she smiled. That quiet, little freak smile all soft and evil. 

That was the last straw.

Erik sat up like nothing hurt. Stood at his full height and stared down at her because he was about to reach her a new lesson.  Erik grabbed her up easy, placed her on the bed where he wanted her—flat on her back, legs open, knees to ears. He shoved her thighs apart rough with no effort, then pressed one hand to her shoulder, the other to her inner knee, pinning it as far back as he could. 

“Lay the fuck back.” 

She did. Biting that lip already. Damn near gyrating that pussy at him like she was saying ‘catch this pussy daddy’ Erik kicked off his joggers the rest of the way. Socks too. His body full bare now—tattoos flexin’ scars movin’ with every shift of his hip. Erik stepped between her legs, eyes locked on her pussy, then dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed just enough to lean in. 

Erik grabbed the backs of her knees, pushed them up until they were damn near touching her chest. Bent her. Pinned her. And spread her wide. That fat, wet pussy opened up for him. Creamy and glistening. Soaked. Erik didn’t slide in right away. He wrapped a his fingers around the base of his dick, thick and solid, and rubbed the tip up and down from her clit to between her labia slow. Let her feel all of it. Let it drag. That slick sound filled the room. He slapped it against her clit a couple times, watching her flinch and the way her pussy lips jiggled from the impact. Then, he pointed that tip right at her entrance and looked her dead in the eyes. 

“Look at me,” he said, low and steady, “Look at me when I put it in yo’ lil’ ass.”

Her eyes fluttered, mouth already falling open.

“Bite your lip.”

She obeyed.

Chewing the corner of it, eyes wide, breath catching as he started to push in—slow and mean—letting her feel every inch part her open. Erik wanted it to hurt just a little. Wanted her to remember what it felt like when she begged for him. 

“You gon’ be quiet while I fuck you?” he whispered, deeper now, “Or I gotta put my fingers in your mouth?”

Sanaa moaned, but caught it behind her teeth. She was breathless, lips trembling, already so far gone she couldn’t hide it. 

And then the babble started.

“I want it…I want it…I want it…”

She just kept saying it, all breathy and needy, like she’d been starving for it. Like her body recognized this moment. Erik groaned low, deep in his chest. He pushed in deeper, buried halfway now, feeling that pussy stretch to take him in. 

“You want it, huh?” he growled, hand sliding to her jaw, thumb brushing her lips, “Say that shit again.”

She whispered it again, louder, “I want it, Daddy…”

He pushed all the way in. Balls touching ass. Her mouth fell open in a soundless cry.

“Fuck, shit don’t make no sense how a cutie like you can be such a fucking…freak…take this dick.”

Erik stayed deep. Just let it sit there thick and pulsing, buried to the hilt. Her pussy wrapped right around every inch. Sanaa was so full it made her dizzy. Her mouth parted in a soft whimper, breath short, body twitching beneath him as her walls tried to adjust around the stretch. 

Erik was inside her. And not just inside—stuffed in her. That heavy dick curved just right, pressing up against her deepest spot, veins dragging slow against soaked, swollen walls. Her pussy was hugging him, clenching tight around the root, slick and creamy, leaking down his shaft from the pressure alone. 

“Shit…” she gasped, legs trembling. “Too deep…”

Erik stayed right there. Watching her like a man possessed, his hands tightening around the backs of her thighs. His grip was rough, firm, keeping her folded just how he wanted her. His locs hung low, a few sticking to his cheek, his body gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Muscles flexed across his arms and chest as he held her in place. Then he pulled out. Slow. To the tip. Abs flexin. That v-cut taunt. Biceps tight with tension. And sank right back in with a heavy grind that forced the air from her lungs. 

“Uhhhhhnn—fuck,” she cried, voice high, eyes wide.

“You feel all that?” Erik growled, voice deep and close, “That’s what you been beggin’ for, right?” 

Erik dragged her body closer to the edge of the bed, hands still locked on her thighs, and pulled her legs apart wider until her pussy spread open for him, glistening with her own cream. Then, he started to fuck her. Really fuck her. Not fast. Not wild. Not in a frenzy. 

Deep. Sharp. Punishing. 

Thick strokes. Slow pressure. Drippin’ dick like he had time and discipline. Each thrust hit her with weight—his hips driving forward, dick gliding through all that slick coating him in her wetness, that creamy grip holding him like it was trying to pull him in deeper every time he bottomed out. 

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. 

The sound of skin meeting skin echoes soft, wet, rhythmic. Her pussy was talking. Sanaa couldn’t stop gasping. Her eyes flicked from his dick—watching it disappear and reappear slick with her cream—to his face, where he stared down at her with that focused, locked-in look. Like he was reading her. Studying every reaction. Every blink. Every moan. Every shake. 

“Look at this shit,” he whispered, pulling out slow just to watch it, “Givin’ Daddy all this cream. You see this fuckin’ mess?”

He slammed back in deep.

Sanaa damn near folded. Fingers gripping the sheets, legs shaking, stomach fluttering. Erik leaned over her, keeping her legs pinned back as his strokes got meaner. Not faster—meaner. More deliberate. Pistoning in and out of her. More pressure behind them like he was pressing his nickname into her from the inside out. 

His voice dropped, slick with filth, “Talkin’ all that shit with my dick in your throat, now you quiet.” Another stroke. Deep. Meaner. Precise, “Pussy too full to talk now, huh?”

She moaned again, back arching.

“You feel that tip kissin’ that spot?”

She nodded, tears brimming.

“You know I don’t play when I fuck you,” he growled, sweat sliding down his chest, his body looking like a carved up masterpiece, “I ain’t never gon’ play about this pussy.” His strokes got heavier. Balls slapping. Her cream painting his dick, glazing his shaft with every thrust, “You gon’ keep this pussy nice for me?”

“Y-yes…”

“You gon’ keep it wet for me?”

“Uh-huh…”

“You gon’ keep lettin’ me fuck it open like this anytime I want?”

She couldn’t answer. Her body said it all—dripping, trembling, stuffed and begging for more. 

Erik wasn’t letting up. He was locked in, head low, eyes never leaving her face, dick still sliding in and out of that sweet, swollen pussy like it was his favorite place in the whole world. Biting his lip. He was tearing her up. Not reckless. Controlled. Those deep strokes powered by tight muscles that turned ruthless. Every thrust dragged out then slammed home with precision. Making her breath hitch each time he drove back in. That dick curved just right, splitting her open while her pussy sucked him back in. Sanaa was babbling now—soft, breathless moans that kept spilling out her mouth whether she wanted them to or not. 

Erik wasn’t having that.

“Shhhh,” he hissed through clenched teeth, hips snapping forward again, fucking deep into that creamy mess, “Shut up.”

She gasped, eyes rolling. Couldn’t even help it.

Erik pulled out suddenly and flipped her, laid her on her side, and guided her leg up over his forearm. She was stretched, propped on her hip, one hand clawing at the sheets, the other reaching for him like she needed something to hold. Erik stood over her, body hulking, muscles glistening, locs hanging as he gripped the back of her thigh to keep it open. Then, he slid back in from behind, watching his thick dick disappear into that tight, little pussy all over again. That bubble booty jiggled with every stroke, soft wet claps filling the room. The way her ass moved under his control had his jaw twitching. Breath ragged. Erik leaned in closer and slid two fingers in her mouth—thumb brushing her bottom lip before pushing past it. 

“Suck.”

She did. Eyes wide and dreamy. Wet with tears. Locked on his. Sanaa wrapped those pretty lips around his fingers and sucked slow, cheeks hollowing, eyes big and innocent like she wasn’t getting fucked dumb at the same time.

Erik groaned low, “Fine ass.” His hips rocked forward again, deep strokes punching her breath right out her chest, “Pretty lil’ slut.”

Whenever he complimented her it made her stomach flutter. Sanaa moaned around his fingers. Loud. Wet. She sucked harder, letting her spit run down his knuckles while her pussy clenched tighter, meeting every stroke now with one of her own. Her hips pushed back into him, timed and fresh, making Erik grunt with every clap of skin. She looked so good. Face all soft, lashes fluttering, mouth full of his fingers, eyes on his like she wouldn’t dare look anywhere else. 

Erik blinked slow, nostrils flaring, sweat trailing down his temple as he kept fucking into her, “Oh, it’s like that?” he growled, grinning through it, “You tryna fuck back now?”

Sanaa sucked harder on his fingers and moaned through her nose, hips rolling, letting him feel how deep she wanted it. Her ass bounced off his lower abs with every stroke, pussy sucking him in wetter, messier, louder. 

“You gon’ make me nut in this pussy again,” he whispered, shaking his head with a bite of his bottom lip, “Keep fuckin’ back. I dare you.”

Erik grabbed a fistful of her curls, wound them tight around his hand, enough to own her. Her head tilted back with the pull, neck arched, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp. Erik used the other hand to keep her leg cocked up, bent at the knee, foo dangling in the air like her ankle gave out. The way he held her like he knew he was the reason her body couldn’t keep itself together had her losing whatever strength she had left. 

Erik shifted his weight forward and dropped his hips in tight strokes, each one hittin with that perfect pressure that made her body jolt in little shivers. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t wild and erratic. It was intentional. Erik was fucking jer with weight not overzealous speed. With discipline. And the whole time, he was watching her. Eyes dark. Lip caught between his teeth. Dimples poked. Breaths steady. Sanaa’s hand flew up to her mouth, cupping it as a muffled moan escaped high and wrecked. She had to. Aaliyah was just down the hall. They had to be quiet. But the way Erik was tearing her ass up on the edge of the bed mad quiet feel impossible. 

And then it happened.

That slow, warmth between her thighs into something wetter. Creamier. Her pussy started to gush around him—thick and sweet and messy—and Erik felt every bit of it. 

“Oooh shit…” he groaned under his breath, gripping her tighter, “That lil’ pussy cummin’ on my daddy’s dick, huh?”

Sanaa couldn’t answer. Could barely think. Creaming on him felt too good. It made everything worse—better. That extra glide turned every deep stroke into a slick, full-body drag that left her with no time to recover. Her walls tried to clench down but slid open again with every pump. It was too slippery, too sensitive, too much. Her little pussy was reacting before her mind could even catch up. By the time she realized he hit her spot, he was already hitting it again. Her cream glazed his shaft, painting his dick with it. It sounded wetter now—those quiet, low, schlk, schlk, schlk noises that made Erik’s eyes narrow like he was trying not to loose it. Then, he slipped out from all that mess

“Bring that leg back up. Right there. I’m puttin’ it back in. Right there. Don’t move. You keep doin’ that I ain’t never gon’ stay in…”

Erik leaned in, still holding her leg up, dragging that doc in and out of her like it was sex therapy, “You know how the fuck I nut in this pussy,” he said under his breath, “So why you creamin’ it like you beggin’ for a repeat? You fuckin’ drippin’ on me.” Erik gave a slo thrust, let her feel every veined inch as it slid through the dream she couldn’t stop leaking, “You don’t even know what to do with this dick. Just keep leakin’. I’m a keep making this pussy talk then.”

Another thrust.

Sanaa cried out behind her palm, eyes rolling, thighs quivering.

“You can’t even hold it in.” 

And she couldn’t.

She was melting from the inside out, stuffed and stretched, body overwhelmed by the glide, the heat, the pressure. Her pussy clenched but had no grip left, just gushed again, soaking him, that mess dripping down to the bed beneath them. Erik smirked, fucking her through it, her curls still wrapped around his fist. Her leg hanging in the air, twitching every time he drove back in. His gaze drifting to his mirror, loving the visual of her body being torn to pieces. 

“Greedy ass pussy,” Erik spoke low, close to her ear, “Look at you. That’s my messy girl, huh? That’s my messy girl? Creamin’ all over daddy’s dick like you need it to breathe?” 

Sanaa is whiny, barely holding on, “Daddy…”

Erik groans. The groan transitions into a faint chuckle. He gripped her tighter, “Nah, don’t start cryin’ now. You wanted Daddy’s dick now look. Got your lil’ pussy talkin’ back, spillin’ on me like she proud to be my lil’ nasty girl.” 

“I can’t help it…”

“You ain’t supposed to. That’s what I like. Keep makin’ a mess for me, baby. Let that pretty lil’ pussy leak ‘til it’s drippin’ down both our legs.” Erik pulls out slowly just to watch it ooze, then slides back in, chuckling soft, teeth gritted, “Mm. There she go again. So damn greedy. That creamy shit all in my lap, all up my stomach…you see it, right? That’s how bad you need Daddy.”

Sanaa moaned soft,  nodding, almost crying, Yeah…I needed it so bad…”

“I know you did. You always do. That’s why I’ma keep feedin’ you like this. Gotta keep my nasty lil’ baby full, huh?”

He pulled out slow.

The drag of it had her shaking, mouth parted, breath coming in soft, helpless gasps. The sheets clung to her skin where sweat had slicked her thighs. Erik leaned back, watching her body react to the absence of him—how her legs trembled, how her pussy stayed wet and open for a second too long before twitching around nothing. 

Sanaa sat up, legs folded under her like she needed a second to catch her breath. But her eyes never left him. Not his chest, not his arms. She reached for his muscular thighs, palms spread wide as she slid forward, settling between them on the edge of the bed. Her head dropped, hair brushing his skin, and her lips parted just enough to let a breath escape against his dick. She stared. Watched the way he throbbed for her, thick and slick from where he’d just been. Then, she wrapped one hand around the base and stroked him. Real slow. Lazy. Like she had all the time in the world to tease him back to full attention. Her other hand rested against his thigh, gripping weakly. She looked up at him, eyes glassy, void coated in want. 

“Why you fuck me like that?”

Erik just stared, jaw flexing.

Sanaa licked her lips, kept stroking, twisting her wrist just enough to make him grunt under his breath.

“Let me ride it, daddy. Please?”

Erik cocked an eyebrow. That slow, unimpressed look that made her squirm every time. 

She bit her bottom lip, started stroking a little faster. Still watching him, “I wanna feel it push back while I bounce on it…” She kissed the tip. Just a little taste, “Been thinkin’ about this stroke all day. My pussy’s ready.”

[thatone-girly]

sweat it out— terrance “terry” richmond

Summary: Terry letting you wear yourself out on that thang. That’s it, that’s all.

Warning(s): riding, sexual innuendos, dirty talk, mentions of oral (f receiving), may be some errors

The day started off great, just as any other day would. You woke up to an empty bed, which was normal considering you were married to a damn lark. Terry always rose before the sun for whatever reason, but that never stopped you from getting your full eight hours worth of beauty rest.

You’d entered the kitchen to see your usual morning sight: Terry, shirtless and sweaty after his morning run. Though you tried to keep your footsteps soft, Terry and his super marine hearing sensed you coming from a mile away. He peered over his shoulder with his cloudy green eyes and flashed a rarely seen smile— well, rare to everyone but you— before scooping up the fresh cup of coffee he’d always have ready for you whenever you decide to grace the world with your presence.

Silently reminding yourself that it was too damn early to be horny, you kept your eyes above the neckline and accepted your cup of joe and one of many morning kisses. You spent the next ten minutes of leisure time as you normally did: Smiling at the sweet and expected gesture, giggling at the compliments and complimentary kisses that came along with your coffee, and squealing when Terry’s hands would roam and squeeze at some of his favorite parts of your body.

You’d left home some time later with a smile on your face as Terry always made sure you did, but just when you thought the exceptional morning meant your day would be perfect, here came your fucking boss.

Rude, loud, and disrespectful. Commanding and demanding the most ridiculous things as soon as the damn office opened. You’d always tried your best to stay respectful and hold your tongue when came at crazy, and today was no different. You’d just constantly remind yourself that this was your boss, and as much as you couldn’t stand her ass, you still loved your job and didn’t want to risk losing it over a boss doing what bosses do.

Then came your coworker Sandra, who also happens to be the bosses daughter. Rude and entitled much like her mother, Sandra always knew how to push just about everyone in the offices buttons, but for some odd reason yours were her favorite to push. You’d trained yourself not to give her the reaction she so desperately tried to get from you, but that still didn’t mean she didn’t get under your skin from time to time.

By the time the end of the day rolled around, Sandra and her mother had worked together to make today the day from hell. Two caseloads, another cup of coffee, and three near blowups later, you’d finally made it back home. The smile you once had on your face when you left was long and gone when you returned, and Terry noticed immediately. From his spot on the couch, he watched you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter and kick your shoes off much harder than necessary. Though your shoulders should’ve relaxed after the long breath you released, they remained tight and tense, telling Terry more than he knew you probably would.

You tended to shut down when frustrated, a bad habit that Terry had both picked up on and learned to remain patient with. However, knowing this wouldn’t stop him from coaxing as much information as he could out of you.

Terry pushed himself up from his seated position and began his path toward you. His long legs got him there in milliseconds, standing tall and protective in front of you. The crisp new wife beater he wore clung to his torso like you did when you would hug him and the dark grey sweats he wore hung low on his hips just how you liked it. His unintentional sexiness almost made you forget why you were mad. Almost.

He remained silent for a moment, watching intently as you looked everywhere but at him. Then, his left hand raised to your hip giving it a double tap with his index and middle fingers. You took that nonverbal command for what it was and finally looked up at him, his stormy eyes already meeting yours halfway.

For a second he still said nothing. He just stood still and examined your expression as much as you’d allow him to. The slight pout on your lips and semi-wet eyes told him enough, prompting him to finally speak.

“Talk to me.”

The words were simple, but when you have a day like you just had, it’s enough to damn near cause a break down. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying and lowered your head, shaking it just enough for the gesture to be noticeable.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

But you should’ve known that wouldn’t be good enough for him. You did know it wasn’t good enough for him. That’s why it was no shock when his hand came to cup your chin and gently forced your head up to meet his gaze again. There was silence once again from him as he scanned your face for another read. This time your mood was clear. Your face held a plethora of emotions. Frustration, anger, and a hint of sadness all at once.

“You’re not upset for nothing, Peach.”

The patience he had with you was evident in both his tone and the use of your pet name. He’d given it to you when the two of you had just began dating many years ago. He said the name reflected your personality and common mood. As sweet as could be. An alternative meaning for that nickname came a bit later in the relationship when the two of you had been intimate for the first time. He said the chosen name was perfect because you in the bedroom mirrored a Peach perfectly: sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty. But that was beside the point. The fact of the matter was that right now, your mood was anything but sweet.

A sigh slipped past your lips as you once again averted your gaze from his, afraid that he’d read too deep into you and cause you to break down in the middle of the living room. “It’s just work, T,” you muttered a tad bit lower than before. “Nothing serious.”

“I think it is serious if it’s got you this upset,” Terry argued. Not in an ill intended way. Just in a way that let you know he wasn’t buying the watered down story you were selling. Hand still cupping your chin, Terry nudged upward just a tad bit higher in an attempt to get your attention back on him. “Look at me.”

You reluctantly obliged and once again locked eyes with Terry, only this time, there was no reading. He’d already put it together. “Your boss?”

Just the mention of that bitch had you fighting the urge to roll your eyes, but to answer your husband’s question, you nodded.

“She frustratin’ you again?”

You mimicked your earlier action once more, nodding as you again bit down on your cheek. “Yeah, Sandra, too.”

Though your voice was barely above a whisper, Terry heard you loud and clear. He kept his stance just a few moments more before relaxing, his hands falling unoccupied at his side before they snaked around your waist. His thumb rubbed soothing circles around your lower back in an effort to get you to relax even a bit. Yeah sure, your boss and her gnat of a daughter pissed you off today. But you were home now, with him.

“You gotta stop doing that, Peach,” Terry murmured, arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulled you closer.

Now chest to chest, your dainty hands came to rest on his biceps. “Doing what?”

“Shutting down,” he elaborated, index finger drumming your hip. “You always shut down when you’re upset and you leave me out the mix. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s goin’ on.”

You nodded in response, head lowering in shame. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Mm-mm, don’t do that,” Terry hummed, immediately following up with a kiss to your forehead, then one to your cheek, then one to your jawline, then multiple to your neck as you giggled lowly. “I’m not mad at you, baby. I just want you to be happy. And I want you to be comfortable telling me when something is botherin’ you. Even if it’s not me, alright?”

With a nod and a muttered agreement, you took the time to appreciate Terry’s effort at getting you to open up. Although you appreciated it, that still didn’t remove the effects of today’s ware and tear from your body. You were still frustrated. Still annoyed. Still tense. But that wasn’t a problem for Terry. All he needed you to do was tell him what was bothering you. He was down to handle the rest.

And that’s what got you to where you are now.

Bare and hot on top of him, knees working overtime to keep you upright as you bounced up and down at the same breathtaking pace. Not too idle. Not too brisk. It was somewhere perfectly in between. Terry watched comfortably beneath you, hands folded and tucked behind his head as he remained still, careful not to disturb your rhythm.

Your bottom lip had to be tired of you biting it, but that seemed to be the only way you could keep your sounds under control and keep the two of you from receiving a noise complaint in a few hours time. Your hands assisted in keeping you steady with their resting spot being on Terry’s abdomen, fingers dragging through the creases of his abs when you felt them flex under the pressure of you repeatedly landing in his lap.

Tongue darting out to moisten your parched lips, you let a whine slip past the barrier you’d tried your hardest to build. “Terryyy…”

He looked up at you, expression stoic and emotionless besides the lust clouding his already piercing eyes. “What you callin’ me for? You doin’ that shit to yourself.”

Brows furrowed and mouth hanging ajar, you looked down to where the two of you connected. You watched your fluids pile up at the base of his phallus in near disbelief. Almost as though you couldn’t believe what you were making yourself do. Like him saying it out loud was what made you realize it. Even still, it was partly his fault. Nobody told him to have all that dick.

Another sound slipped past your lips, this time resembling more of a squeal as the angle of your hips made it nearly impossible for his throbbing tip to miss your spot. “Fuuuckkk!”, you slurred through a moan, head falling backward and eyes rolling to a close.

“Mhm, there you go,” Terry cooed while simultaneously reaching out to you, hand wrapping snug around your throat. “Keep that shit movin’. Just like that.”

The sudden air restriction caused you to gasp, hand coming up to wrap around Terry’s wrist. The grip you had on his hand matched the grip you had on his dick, your walls contracting around his girth at the depth of his voice and commands. There was something about the two of you being in a position where you had the opportunity to be in full control, yet Terry still finding a way to be in charge. Your body’s response to his commands showed exactly how you felt about them, your walls gushing with arousal.

Your internal temperature grew hotter with every passing minute, the aching in your legs contributing to your thermal increase. But unfortunately, that wasn’t stopping shit. You were gonna get your nut even if it meant riding this Harley until your legs gave clean out. Well, your third nut. Terry had already coaxed two out of you with that talented mouth of his, eating away half the frustration you’d returned home with. He left it up to you to ride out the rest.

“Fuck…why you so wet, Peach?” Fingers tightening around your throat, Terry bit down on his bottom lip as his free hand came up to strike your ass cheek. “Hm?”

There were so many answers to that question. Maybe because you had a fine ass man beneath you letting you use him for your pleasure with no consequences. Or maybe it was because you had a big ass dick invading the deepest part of you, pulsing and throbbing against your wetness to cause almost euphoric sensations. Or maybe it was just because you were in love. It didn’t matter which response was most fitting, because you couldn’t even muster up the strength to give him one.

Instead you peeled your eyes open, gaze immediately connecting with his. The two of you watched each other through different eyes: yours soft and submissive, his hard and dominant. “You so fuckin’ pretty.”

You moaned in response, stomach swarming with butterflies at him somehow always knowing what to say and when to say it. Eyes fluttering shut, your head had almost fallen back again before Terry’s hand moved to cup your jaw. “Mm-mm, keep them eyes on me.”

You obliged, eyes opening to find his. You watched as his lip found its way between his teeth again, his thumb stroking your cheek as soft as could be. Then the pad of his thumb found its way to your bottom lip, rubbing across it a few times. “Open…”

Following instructions with a submissive moan, your semi-parted lips opened wider to allow his thumb entry, and you made sure to give it a warm welcome with your tongue and lips. A slick thrust from below had your teeth nearly sinking into the flesh, but you’d managed to hold back before continuing to suck on his thumb.

“So beautiful…”, Terry muttered, watching as your eyes rolled to a close and you moaned around his thumb, the throbbing of his phallus causing your stomach muscles to tighten. “and so fuckin’ nasty.”

How could he say that when he was the one who made you this way? You can confidently say you had never been this nasty until you got with Terry. This motherfucker had you doing shit you would’ve never even thought to do with anyone else, but you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said you didn’t love it.

He pulled his thumb away and you released it with a ‘pop’, then watched with doe eyes as he used that same saliva covered thumb to rub your clit in slow, sloppy circles. But you were the nasty one? Yeah, okay.

The new sensation caused a buck in your hips, a sound of louder pitch escaping your lips as your eyes did yet another roll inward. “Babyyy…s-shit!”, you whined as you tried to keep your pace through the tightening of your walls and flexing of your stomach muscles. The sensation omitted a groan from Terry, but nothing more than that as he kept his eyes trained on you.

It’s not that he wasn’t feeling good, because he damn sure was. It was just the fact that tonight was your night. Y’all could worry about him later. Right now, it was all about you.

“You look so good up there, Peach. You don’t even understand,” he cooed, tongue slowly protruding to wet his lips as he watched you slowly but surely unravel.

You’d call him a damn lie if you weren’t in your current position. You could just feel that you looked a mess. Hair puffy and wild, lips parched and dry, skin hot and tacky. Terry didn’t give a fuck. “Them hips, them thighs, your face…”, he murmured, the rotation of his thumb staying constant. “Can’t even keep your fuckin’ eyes open. I got you feelin’ good, huh, baby?”

“Yesss, oh my god!”, you squealed, head lolling back as your toes began to curl against the mattress.

Hissing at your sudden tighter grip, Terry’s brows furrowed a tad deeper. “Why you grippin’ me like that? Hm?” You knew the answer, and so did he. But your almost non-coherent words made it hard to give him one. “You finna cum? Is that what it is?”

You nodded frantically, the pace of your bounces starting to increase. “You gon’ cum for me, mama? You gon’ show me how wet you can get for me?”

“Y-yesss, fuck! I’m gon’ cum for you, daddy!”, you moaned, toes curling tighter as you grabbed his free hand and interlocked your fingers. The speed of his thumb started to increase to match the pace of your bounces, your sounds now being full on pornstar moans.

“Chase that shit then, Peach. Show me how wet this pretty pussy can get for me.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice because you already felt it coming. Nails clawing at his chest, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hung ajar as your walls closed as tight as they could. The groans omitted from him only assisted with your heavenly climax, thighs trembling as you tried your hardest not to wake the neighbors, though both you and Terry were sure you had probably already done that.

“There you go. Get what you need, pretty girl,” Terry cooed, thumb still rotating on your sensitive center even though your bouncing had come to a steady halt. “Let that shit out.”

Chest heavy with pants, you absentmindedly wound your hips against his thumb, riding out your high to its highest potential. When you were done, you and your throbbing center had had enough. Your hand had quickly found Terry’s, grabbing hold of his wrist. “Mm, fuck, okay…I’m tapped out,” you huffed through short breaths, pushing his thumb away from your now sore pleasure point.

You lifted yourself off of his length with a wince before collapsing back onto his chest. “You good?”

Fuck no you weren’t good. Your body may as well been filled with noodles. Your legs and back were as good as gone, and don’t even get started on your knees. “Don’t even think about touching me for the next two weeks.”

You weren’t sure yet if you were joking or not, and neither was Terry, but for now you’d just go to sleep, good, fucked, and happy.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

stack definitely the type to bully you while you got his dick in your mouth

just talking shit while grinning and looking down at you

i feel like that nigga really would hurt his girl feelings lol 😭

he get carried away with the shit too telling you how you suck dick too pretty and then force it down your throat

he not a overly serious daddy dom like smoke is or mysterious daddy dom that keeps you coming back like Erik

i feel like he genuinely just be playing with you because he don't take shit seriously 😭 lol

like overly playful and doing to much and just overall disrespectful as fuck but the dick be hitting so you keep coming back

Confessions Restaurant & Lounge pulses with booming 808 basslines of UGK, Z-Ro & Trae Tha Truth. Thick Southern drawl in every Dirty South lyric that matched the crowd moving below. Brown skin, dark skin, copper skin, deep mahogany skin caught the strobe lights and threw it back in flashes. Gold hoops swung. Rings glimmered. Fresh lineups, silk presses, locs, curls, braids, and fades moved through the sea of black people like art in motion. Everywhere you looked, somebody was laughing. Heads tipped back. Hands slapped shoulders. You could see girls huddled and gossiping while sipping vibrant drinks that snuck up on them like a chill. Bodies packed the main floor, women in lace jumpsuits, tight dresses, skirts that barely covered ass, stilettos and platforms. Men wearing sneakers straight out the box, all the jewelry in their collection, grills gleaming like rainbows. Women twerked low to the southern beats while men watched from the edges with drinks in hand. 

Up in the private VIP section, separated by velvet ropes and a low glass partition that let the noise in but kept the space exclusive. Plush black leather couches lined the walls, low tables scattered with bottles of top-shelf liquor and ashtrays holding half-smoked blunts. 

Stack sat back in the center couch, one arm draped along the backrest, black shirt open at the collar to show the gold chains layered against his brown skin. His tailored pants fit sharp over his athletic frame, expensive loafers planted wide, rings catching the colored lights every time he lifted his glass. 

She sat right beside him, thigh pressed against his. Her dress clung like it was painted on, short enough to show the length of her legs and cut low to frame the curve of her chest, the fabric shimmering. She held her posture straight, shoulders back, chin lifted just enough to project that ice-queen distance she wore like armor. Her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room with cool assessment, and every time Stack leaned in, she answered with clipped words or a raised brow that dared him to push further. 

Stack watched her for a long moment, the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes narrowing as he read the attitude rolling off her. His honeyed, Mississippi drawl came low, meant only for her ear over the thump of the music. 

“You been runnin’ that mouth all night like you forgot where you at. Like you forgot who put you in this section, who decides how long you stay.” His free hand rested on her knee, fingers pressing just firm enough to remind her of the grip he could tighten. “You know who you belong to. You know what happens if you keep givin’ me that look, like you too good for a reminder.” 

She shifted in her seat slightly but didn’t pull away, her expression staying composed even as the tension between them rose. Stack’s thumb traced a slow line along her skin, his gaze dropping briefly to the way her dress rode up before lifting back to her face. 

“Keep it up and I’ma put you right where you need to be. On your knees in this booth…throat open while the music covers every sound you make…you think that attitude protects you out there but in here…it just tells me how bad you want the correction.” 

His voice always stayed smooth, flirtatious on the surface but edged with the control he wielded so easily. It made her pulse quicken despite the cool mask she kept in place. 

Stack fixed her with that sharp, amused stare. 

“Why the fuck you show up if you can’t stand me?” 

She crossed her arms, her posture stiff and eyes darting to the crowd beyond them. “I came for the music. That’s all.” 

He chuckled low at first, then let it roll out fuller, shaking his head like she’d told the best joke he’d heard all night. 

“Nah. Don’t play that. You knew I’d be here. So what’s the real reason?”

“Drop it,” she whispered, turning her shoulder slightly away. 

Stack leaned in closer, his gold chains catching the colored lights. His lips brushed her cheek, nose pressed against her hair, taking a sniff. 

“I don’t like being ignored. You hear me? Answer the question.” 

She stayed quiet, jaw tight, refusing to meet his gaze even as the tension pulled tighter between them. Her eyes flicked down for a split second, catching the thick outline pressing against his pants, heavy and obvious. She snapped her focus back up fast, but not fast enough. 

Stack caught the glance, his lips curving into a slow grin. He chuckled, the sound warm and knowing. 

“What you lookin’ at?” 

She shifted her weight, voice flat. “You know what I’m looking at.” 

Stack reached out without hesitation, catching her wrist and guiding her hand straight to the fat bulge in his pants. Her palm landed against the heat and solid weight of it, fingers brushing the shape through the fabric. She rolled her eyes hard, pulling her usual ice back into place like armor, expression bored and distant even as her hand stayed where he put it. 

Stack watched her face the whole time, reading every flicker she tried to hide. 

“Yeah, I see you. Actin’ like you don’t care, but your hand ain’t moving.” His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges with that familiar taunt. “You gon’ keep playing games or you gon’ get on your knees and suck this dick?” 

The question hung between them just like that fat dick twitching hard beneath her hand, a sudden pulse that made the thick shaft jump against her fingers. Heat radiated through the fabric, intense and alive, the warmth seeping into her skin like it was trying to brand her. She could feel every detail—the fat girth stretching the material taut, the way it throbbed with a steady pulse that matched the bass from the club floor, the subtle ridge along the underside that hinted at its veined length. It was solid, unyielding, and growing firmer by the second under her touch, the warmth building until it felt almost feverish. 

She bit down on her lower lip, teeth sinking in to trap the moan that threatened to slip out. Her body betrayed her even as she kept her expression locked in that icy mask, eyes narrowed and jaw set like she was above all this. But her mouth watered anyway, saliva pooling at the thought of wrapping around that big dick, and her clit thumped insistently between her thighs, a dull ache that pulsed in time with the twitch she felt in her palm. Defiance kept her spine straight and her shoulders squared, but the way her fingers curled just slightly against the bulge gave her away, pressing in to feel more of that thick, warm weight. 

Stack’s eyes never left her face, noticing the way her breath hitched despite her best efforts. 

“That’s what I thought.” Stack whispered, shifting his hips just enough to grind the print harder into her hand.

Stack didn’t wait for an answer. His free hand went to his pants, unzipping with a quick pull that freed the heavy length of his dick. It sprang out thick and dark, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, veins pulsing along the shaft. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it, the sight locking her in place even as her fingers stayed pressed against the warm skin now exposed. 

Stack laughed low, the sound rumbling from his chest as he caught the way her gaze locked on, wide and hungry despite the stubborn set of her jaw. 

“Look at that face,” he taunted, voice thick with amusement and that Mississippi drawl. “Eyes all big like you ain’t never seen a dick this size before. You actin’ like you too good but your mouth’s damn near droolin’. Go on, admit it…that look says you want every inch down your throat.” 

Stack’s hips thrusted upward, positioning that fat dick straight up so it stood rigid against his stomach, the full weight of his balls hanging heavy and tight below. It twitched visibly, the shaft bobbing with each rush of blood, the warmth radiating off it in waves that she felt even from inches away. The head flared dark and slick, a thick vein running the underside that throbbed in time with the southern bass. 

Her defiance cracked right there. She gave in with a sharp breath, sliding down to her knees without another word, dress bunched at her waist, bare ass resting on her heels. Her hands reached to grip his thighs as her lips parted. The heat hit her first when she leaned in, that feverish warmth from his skin making her clit throb harder between her legs. 

Stack’s dick stood heavy and rigid in front of her face, a network of raised veins pulsing along its length. The fat head flared wide, shiny with a bead of precum that stretched into a thin string when she leaned in. Her mouth watered openly now, tongue flicking out to taste the tip before her lips parted and stretched around the broad crown, struggling to take the girth as she sank down. Saliva welled up fast, coating the upper half of his shaft in a glossy sheen that caught the strobe lights every time she bobbed. 

Stack’s hand rested on the back of her head, rings heavy against her hair. He let her work for a few strokes, watching her cheeks hollow and her throat flex. Then, he gave a short push that forced another inch inside. 

“That mouth tryin’, ain’t it?” He said, voice low and taunting. “You call that sucking, baby? Feel like you just holding it.” 

 She tried to take more, jaw aching, but he tightened his grip and eased her back until the head remained between her lips like she was sucking on a lollipop. A wet pop sounded when he pulled free completely. His dick swayed, slick and heavy, the veins standing out darker now from the suction. Stack tapped his fat head against her cheek twice, leaving wet marks and sticky trails of pre cum.

“Nah. Lick it proper first. Base to tip. Slow. Show me you want it.” 

Her tongue dragged along the underside, tracing every ridge and vein, saliva dripping from her chin onto her cleavage. Stack watched with half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth lifted, dimple peeking. When she reached the head and swirled her tongue around it, he let her suck the tip again for a moment before yanking her off once more.

“Greedy. You ain’t earned the whole thing yet.” 

Stack gripped the base with one hand, angling the thick length so the head brushed her parted lips but stayed just out of reach. She leaned forward; he leaned back an inch, keeping the distance. 

“Uh-uh. Ask nice. Tell me what that mouth is good for.” 

Her answer came out hoarse, “for sucking this big dick.”

Stack rewarded her with a single swallow thrust that barely stretched her lips before withdrawing again. Spit trailed from her lower lip to the head of his dick. 

“That’s better,” he said, feeding her another inch, then two, until her nose nearly brushed his trimmed hair. 

He held her there, feeling her throat flutter around the fat intrusion, then pulled her off completely. His dick glistened from root to tip, strands of spit connecting her mouth to the head. Stack slapped it lightly against her tongue, the weight of it making a soft pat-pat sound. 

“Breathe. Then try again. And don’t stop until I say.” 

She dove back in, lips sliding down the veined girth with more determination, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth. Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her but never letting her set the pace herself. Every few strokes he would ease her back, denying her the deeper reach she chased, his voice smooth and cutting above her. 

“Still half-assing it. Open that throat or I’ll do it for you.” 

That fat head popped free again, shiny and swollen, and he dragged it across her lips in a slow tease before letting her have it once more. She slid back down on him, lips straining wide around the broad crown, but Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair and he gave a low chuckle that held no warmth. 

“Nah. I don’t want that pretty dick sucking either. You hear me?” He yanked her off with a wet pop, dick swinging heavy and slick, thickness coated in ropes of spit that dripped from the tip down to the base where veins stood out dark and pulsing. His fat length twitched, shiny and obscene, Stack slapping it on her tongue again. 

“Open wider. Get nasty wit’ it. I want spit running down my balls, not this tidy little bob you think pass for sucking.” 

Stack fed that wide tip back between her lips but only halfway, holding her there while she sucked softly, then pulled free once more so his entire veined girth glistened and swayed in her face in a hypnotic dance. Her chin was shiny, drool sliding down her neck. Stack angled his dick so the head brushed her cheek, leaving a wet smear. 

“Look at that. You tryna keep it cute? Fuck that. Slobber on it like the greedy slut you is.” 

Stack pushed her face lower, making her tongue drag along the underside where a thick vein pulsed against her taste buds, then let her suck the tip again only to deny her the rest. Every time she tried to sink deeper he eased back, the fat crown popping free shiny and swollen, strings of spit connecting her mouth to his dick. 

“That’s right. Make a mess. I want it dripping off my shit ‘fore I even think ‘bout letting you choke on the whole thing.” His free hand stroked the base once, slow, showing her the full heavy length before tapping it against her parted lips. “Breathe through your nose and get sloppy. Or I’ll just fuck that throat myself.”

She stopped fighting the urge and let it happen, drool spilling freely from the corners of her mouth as she worked her tongue along every inch he allowed. Spit coated the full length of his dick, thick strands stretching and snapping each time she pulled back for air. Wet trails ran down her throat and soaked the neckline of her dress. Stack watched with a satisfied smirk, his grip in her hair firm. 

“There it is,” he said, voice low and approving in that mocking way he had. “Look how quick you got it. All I had to do was tell you once and now you making a proper mess. Easy, ain’t it?” He let her sink a little deeper on her own, the head of his dick nudging the back of her throat before he eased her off again. “Follow directions and this shit get simple. No need for all that fuckin’ attitude you walked in wit’. Just open up and slobber like I said.”  

Her tongue dragged heavy and wet under his shaft, spit bubbling at the corners as she tried to take more without being told. Stack chuckled, tapping his slick head against her lips before sliding it back in halfway.

“Yeah, just like that. See how much better it feels when you stop pretending? You can act like you run shit out there, but right here you follow every word, makes my job easy too.” 

His fat crown pressed deeper while spit poured down over his balls. The wet sounds filled the VIP space, louder than the muffled bass from the club floor. Stack’s free hand rested on her jaw, thumb stroking the slick skin as he held her in place for a moment. 

“Keep going exactly like that. No fancy tricks just the nasty shit I asked for. You do that and we both get what we want.” 

She kept at it without hesitation, her mouth working steadily over every inch he gave her. Spit ran in heavy streams down his thick dick and over his heavy balls, soaking the front of his pants where they hung open. Her tongue pressed flat and eager, dragging wet and thorough each time she pulled back before sinking forward again. No resistance left in the way she moved, just the steady rhythm he had set for her. 

“You really can’t stand me, huh? Always got that look like you wanna slap the smirk off my face. But here you are again, lips stretched around my dick like it’s the only thing that shuts you up. Every single time you swear this the last…you end up on your knees. Can’t leave it alone, can you?” 

He rocked his hips forward once, testing how deep she would take it on her own. She did, throat working around the head without pulling away. More spit bubbled out and dropped onto the floor between his feet. Stack laughed, thumb brushing the corner of her stretched mouth. 

“Look at this mess you making. All ‘cause you can’t stay away from what you claim to hate. I tell you to get sloppy and you do it like it’s second nature. Follow every word I give you, even when you glaring at me with those sharp eyes. You hate how easy it is. Hate that you keep coming back for more of this.” 

The club music thumped somewhere beyond the VIP curtain, but in here it was only the sound of her wet lips and his voice laying out every contradiction. 

“You walk ‘round like nobody can touch you, but the second I tell you to open up you turn into this. Can’t stand me, yet you can’t stop sucking me off every chance you get. Makes me wonder what you’d do if I told you to stop right now. Bet you’d keep goin’ anyway, just to prove you can walk away whenever you want. We both know better.” 

Stack rose to his full height, glass in hand, the ice clinking as he took a slow sip. He looked down at her on her knees, eyes locked on the way her lips stayed wrapped around him. 

“No hands,” Stack commanded. “Just that mouth. Work it like you mean it. All jaws, no shortcuts.” 

She adjusted without a word, hands dropping to her sides. Her jaw flexed as she pushed forward, taking more of him in one steady glide. She moved like she knew exactly how to angle it, cheeks hollowing on each pull, tongue pressing hard along the underside with every stroke. 

Stack watched her, drink still in one hand while the other rested at his side. 

“That’s it. Suck that dick like the pro you are when nobody’s watching. Look at you, throat working overtime. You act like you hate my guts when we in public but in here you swallow every gahdamn inch of this dick like it’s your favorite meal.” 

Stack rocked his hips once, testing her rhythm, and she took it deeper without pulling back. More spit spilled over her bottom lip and ran down his balls. Stack chuckled, low and rough. 

“Admit it. You love this big dick. Say it while you got it stuffed in your mouth. Tell me how much you love choking on it every time you swear you done wit’ me.” 

She refused to give him that satisfaction with words but her jaw worked harder, the wet sounds filling the space between them. Stack took another sip, eyes never leaving her face. 

“Come on. I wanna hear it. You can’t leave this alone ‘cause you love how it fills your throat. You love gettin’ bullied while you drool all over it. Say the words.” Her pace stayed relentless, lips stretched tight. Stack tilted his head, voice turning sharper. “That’s my mean girl, keep going. Admit everything. How you can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout this dick even when you give me attitude. Say it loud enough so I know you mean it.” 

Stack held still, letting her drive the motion, watching every bob of her head and every flex of her throat as she worked him deeper. The club noise stayed muffled beyond the curtain while he sipped again, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. 

“Good girl. Now keep that mouth moving and tell me the rest. How bad you need it. How you hate yourself for loving every second of this.” 

Stack yanked his dick free from her throat, gripping the base and started smacking the heavy length across her face. Each slap landed with a wet thud, the head dragging over her cheek, across her lips, up to her forehead, leaving shiny streaks behind. He did it slow at first, then faster. Her eyes watered but she kept them open, staring up at him. 

“I can’t fucking stand you,” she rasped, voice thick and broken from how deep she’d been taking him. “But I love it. I love all of it. This big dick, the way it stretches my throat, how you make me kneel and take it. I love choking on every inch even when I swear I hate you.” 

Stack let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and amused. He slapped his dick harder against her cheek, then dragged it down to smack her chin. 

“Look at this pathetic face. Sayin’ you can’t stand me while my dick all over it. You love it so much you drooling just from the words. Go on, keep talkin’. Tell me how bad you need this dick you claim to hate.” 

He kept the pace going, smacking the thick shaft over her nose and lips, the wet slaps echoing in the VIP section. Spit flew with each strike. Her expression stayed wrecked, mouth open, tongue half out like she couldn’t help chasing it. 

“That’s right,” he mocked, voice smooth even as he bullied her with his dick. “Admit it all. You sneak around just to get treated like this. Can’t get enough of how I make you feel like nothin’ but a hole for me to use. Say it louder.” 

She swallowed, throat working, and kept going between the hits.

“I love this big dick more than anything. I love how you make me do this, how you don’t let me use my hands, how you laugh at me while I beg for it. I hate you but I can’t stop wanting every second of it.” 

Stack grinned, dimples flashing, and gave one final slap across both cheeks with his tip girth before pressing the head against her lips again. 

“Good. Now open up and prove it.” 

She proved it right away. Her lips parted wide and she took him back in, sucking hard and sloppy like she was desperate for some prize at the end. Her tongue worked the underside in fast strokes while she bobbed her head, cheeks sunken with every pull. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her dress as she pushed deeper, taking more of him without any hesitation.

Stack felt his dick swell thicker in her mouth, the head pulsing against her tongue as he got closer. He groaned low and gripped her hair tighter. 

“You want my nut that bad, huh? Look at you workin’ for it. Tell me where you want it. How bad you need it.” 

She pulled off just enough to speak, voice hoarse and frantic between licks. 

“And want it so bad, Stack. Give me that nut. I want it all over my face, down my throat, anywhere you say. I need it more than anything right now. Please, just cum for me.” 

Stack chuckled again, mocking and low. “Hold still then. Grab my glass and don’t spill a drop.” 

She reached up with one shaking hand and took the glass from him, holding it steady while he planted both palms on her head. Stack drove forward, fucking her throat in hard, steady thrusts. His hips snapped towards her face as he chased his release, using her mouth like it was made for exactly this. 

Stack’s body tensed hard, his hips jerking forward one last time before he yanked his dick free from her throat with a wet pop. Thick ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head, the first heavy spurt landing across her cheek and splattering up toward her eye in a hot, sticky line. More followed in powerful pulses, each one shooting out in long, creamy strands that painted her face white. His load was massive, costing her skin in heavy globs that dripped down her jaw and onto the neckline of her dress. 

His face twisted in raw pleasure, brows furrowed deep, full lips parted around a guttural groan that built into a low, drawn-out moan. His deep brown eyes narrowed to slits, lashes fluttering as his chest heaved, the veins in his neck standing out while he emptied himself with a stutter of his hips. Stack aimed the next burst lower, letting the cum land directly on her wiggling tongue as she held it out for him, the warm fluid pooling there in a thick puddle before overflowing down her chin. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He rasped, voice thick and taunting even as his dick twitched through the last shots. “Look at all that nut on your pretty face. You earned every drop, didn’t you?” 

She didn’t pull away, instead leaning in to suck the remaining cum from his still-hard length. Her lips sealing around the head and milking him clean with slow, tight pulls until nothing more came out. Stack watched her with a smirk, his hand still tangled in her hair as he praised her through the taunts.

“Good girl, swallowing what you can and wearing the rest like a badge. Such a nasty little slut for me, huh? Bet you love feeling it cool on your skin.” 

She rolled her eyes at him from her knees, the gesture full of attitude even with his cum streaking her face. Stack burst out laughing, the sound rich and amused as he tilted her chin higher with one finger. 

“There she is. Always got that fire, even when she’s covered in me.”