Page 106 of Save Room for Us

“What time?”

“It starts at eight a.m. so?—”

“Damn!” I exclaimed, making her laugh.

“I know, early. I have to be up at six so I can get myself ready and Sophie too.” She touched the side of my face with a half-smile and said, “You should come.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think God too happy with a nigga like me.” I shook my head.

“He can forgive so long as you ask for it. And it’s not about what people in the church think. You build your own relationship with God. Pray, vent, whatever you want, but always keep a line of open communication with Him.”

I nodded, pondering on her words. I loved her fucking brain… There wasn’t shit about her that I didn’t love.

I’d been to church, especially once my father married Lisara because she made our asses go, until she got tired of rallying us up every weekend.

“Then again, a nigga must’ve done something right for Him to give me you,” I stated honestly, watching her try to hide the smile that eventually broke through before I kissed her.

I didn’t know what the fuck I did to deserve her ass, but I wasn’t gon’ do shit to lose her.

“Or I did something right for Him to give you to me,” she replied.

“I wanna marry you,” I spoke truthfully, watching her blush hard as shit at the sound of my words. “You go every week?”

“I did until I got with him, and then I didn’t have as much wiggle room to do things he didn’t want to unless it was going to work. But even then, he’d sit in the parking lot or roam the hospital to keep an eye on me.”

I frowned as I listened to her speak, her small hands migrating from my beard to my locs.

“I mean, I get the fucking obsession, but not in that way.”

“So you obsessed with me?” She half smiled as I pressed my lips to the area below her breasts, relishing in the softness of her brown skin. Shit was almost preternatural.

“I am.” I lifted my head back up. “I don’t like to think about the shit with you and him, ’cause it makes me wanna do some shit I can’t right now.” I chuckled humorlessly at the many times I’d run by Bashar different ways I could kill that bitch ass nigga without it coming back to Anastazia, but he’d always tell me to be patient. “But when I look at you, listen to you, hear your laugh, enjoy your body… I can’t imagine why a muthafucka would wanna hurt you, women period, butyou, specifically. Gotta be the lowest of the low, real shit.”

I saw the damage that nigga did in the smallest ways like how if I kissed her while she was asleep, it would startle her, so I never did it again. Or how whenever she had to pee, she had to right then and couldn’t wait. Lastly, the nightmares and the way she’d tense up if I held her too tightly in the bed.

“He’s only a hair above child molesters and killers, so I would say he fits the bill.” She stared into my eyes as she spoke lowly.

“But aight, I’ll go in the morning.” I changed the subject, noticing how it affected not only her but me. I was laid up with my woman and wasn’t trying to have murderous thoughts right now, especially not after she asked me to attend church with her.

“You will?” She beamed, curly hair splayed across my pillow. She always left the shit smelling like cupcakes with a mix of her Tom Ford perfume. “You wake up early anyway, so you’ll be fine, but I need my sleep.”

Chuckling, I pecked her lips.

“I can’t make love to you then; we just gotta straight fuck.” I sucked on her neck, sliding my arms under her knees as my hard dick pressed at her opening. “Fuck, baby.” I moaned like a bitch as I was making my way inside.

“Mmm.” Her voice trembled as she started to open up more, allowing me in fully. “Not yet,” she let me know, wanting me to continue to move at a snail’s pace until she was ready.

Listening, I slipped my tongue into her mouth as I glided in and out slowly, feeling her coat me more with each plunge. As it got easier to penetrate her, she nodded subtly, so I gradually started to beat it up, nutting so hard just four minutes later that I was paralyzed for a bit, moaning like a ho. At least she got two beforehand.

THE NEXT MORNING…

The three of us entered the medium-sized church, me carrying Sophie as I held Anastazia’s hand with my free one.

“Thanks for coming.” She smiled up at me just before we walked down the aisle of a pew to take our seats.

“Couldn’t let you go alone. These niggas in church be plotting,” I whispered, making her suck her teeth with a snicker.

For the next two hours, we listened to the choir sing, the pastor preach his sermon, and then we donated. It was hilarious seeing Anastazia’s eyes widen when I dropped a knot into the golden bowl. The pastor made sure to bow his head to me in thanks when he peeped the shit.

---