Page 11 of The Best is Yet to Cum

“Maybe I should let you get some rest.”

She sat up quickly, shaking her head. “No, I don’t need rest. I need dick.”

“You need dick? Or you need my dick?”

“I need your dick. I want you to fuck me so good that I’m still feeling shockwaves three months from now.”

She fell back and opened her legs, giving me the space to adjust myself between them. “Oh, you want it like that?”

“Exactly like that.”

“That kinda dick requires lovemaking. Do you want me to make love to you, Mona?”

“Make love?”

“Yes, make love. If I make love to you, a year from now, you’ll be sitting in your car, behind your desk, or pushing the cart at the grocery store, and shivers will shoot through your body, oryour knees will get weak. Is that what you want? You want me to make love to you?”

“Yes.” Her response was barely above a whisper, but I heard her loud and clear.

Three Months Later

6

Mona

“Ican’t believe this,” I whispered, holding up the blue and white stick.

“If that’s positive, you better start talking,” Karla demanded.

Lariah gasped. “This better not be Winston’s baby!”

“It’s positive, and no, it’s not Winston’s baby. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“The beginning, ho,” Karla spat.

It had been a few weeks since I’d seen my best friends, and we were overdue for a girl’s night in. I provided the pizza and breadsticks, Lariah brought the snacks, and Karla brought the wine, although I couldn’t partake.

We were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace in my apartment. It was the beginning of March, and spring was around the corner, but that meant nothing in Chicago. The temperature still barely reached the thirties.

I’d been feeling out of sorts for the past few weeks, but because my cycle had come twice, the idea of being pregnant hadn’t crossed my mind until I had to race to the bathroom to vomit when I got home today.

“I met someone in New Orleans.”

“New Orleans? That was three months ago.” Lariah pointed out.

“I know.”

“I guess we don’t have to ask if you got some dick. Are y’all doing the long-distance thing, or what?” Karla asked.

I shook my head. “He lives in Chicago.”

I shared with them how I ran into Clinton and how we spent the next three days together, including New Year’s Eve. Talking about it took me back to one of the happiest times of my adult life, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Damn, girl. He must be something special. I haven’t seen you smile like that in years,” Lariah said.

“He is something special, but I told him I wasn’t ready for another relationship.”

“Girl, you’ve been single for at least eight years, regardless of your marital status.”

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