whispered. He went back to running his tongue up and down my crack roughly. I clutched the sheets with both hands and let out a series of ohhhs and ahhs. Matt tossed my salad like it was going to be his last meal. My body actually felt like it was floating. Every nerve ending tingled.
âGet up on your knees a little bit,â Matt urged.
My legs were trembling so bad I didnât think I could do it.
âI canât. You got me too weak,â I huffed. Matt gave me a firm push to help me up onto my knees.
âOwww!â I hollered as Matt slammed his thick dick into my soaking wet center from the back. Instinctively my body inched forward but Matt grabbed me back toward him.
âDonât try to run now. You wanted this dick, now take it,â he rasped. He slapped my left ass cheek roughly. I squealed in response and tried to run away from him again.
âOh God!â I blurted out.
âNah, you fuckinâ playinâ. Donât call God now, call out your daddyâs name! Whatâs my fuckinâ name?â Matt growled.
âMatt,â I said, barely audible.
âWhat? I canât fuckinâ hear you!â he barked. He leaned down and while his dick was still buried deep inside of me he lifted me up and fucked me from behind like we were two dogs in heat.
âUh, ah, uh, Maaattt!â I belted out as I reached the most earth-shattering climax Iâd ever had. Within seconds Matt was growling from his climax.
We both collapsed on the bedâme on my back and Matt on his stomach. I rolled onto my side and rubbed his back gently. I was saying a little silent prayer that my pussy wouldâve been enough to keep him in the house with me.
âJust promise me shit is solid with us,â I whispered.
âYou know I donât make promises, but I will tell you that you my wifey and I love your ass,â Matt affirmed. I closed my eyes and smiled. That was what I wanted to hear.
Not even an hour after that beautiful lovemaking session, Matt was in and out of the shower and back into his going-out clothes. My heart was crushed. My prayers had fallen on deaf ears.
I sat on the side of the bed pouting until Matt left. Once he was gone I jumped up and grabbed my cell phone. âYeah, girl. Heâs gone. You ready? I can be ready in thirty minutes.â I called my girl Daysha and she was at my house in no time to get me.
âDamn, chick, you trying to creep up on Matt or you trying to snag another nigga?â Daysha gushed as she gave me the once-over. âBitch, you look fucking hot to death in that outfit. I wouldâve thought you was going to New York Fashion Week in all of that haute couture shit you rocking.â
Daysha was the one chick from my old neighborhood who never turned her back on me or threw me any shade. She and I had been down for years.
âYou like it?â I asked, trying to act all modest like I didnât know I was the shit in my deep purple form-fitting Gucci dress and a pair of purple-and-black pointy-toe python Gucci stilettos. I had pulled my long, dark hair back into a classy chignon and adorned it with a beautiful mother-of-pearl Louis Vuitton hair clip.
One thing about me, Lauren Kelly, I was a bad bitch and I knew it. I was a slim five feet six inches tall. I had long, slender yet muscular legs, a tight ass that sat up like a donkey booty, and more than a handful of perky C-cup titties. My only complaint about myself was my high yellow complexion. Against my dark hair sometimes my very fair skin made me look too light, even ghostly. Growing up, my cousins always teased me calling me Albino and White Girl so I developed a complex about my skin color. Rumors were always circulating in my family that I was a white trickâs baby. I mean you could tell I was a black girl because of my beautiful mixed featuresâfull lips, high cheekbones, pointed nose, thick luscious hair, and round light brown eyesâbut if
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins