Page 38 of Another Constant

Complicate some shit?

I was confused until he picked me up and carried us to the shower bench in the back of his shower.

I was about to ask what he meant, but before I could, I felt like I was being impaled in the best way possible.

I was suspended, him holding me inches from his body while he pushed upward into me.

I felt like my body was betraying me, like it didn’t belong to me, but instead to him, while he deviously impaled me, sending his thick, hard shaft to depths I didn’t think anyone had even explored, not Zax or even me with the toy in my top drawer.

“Shhhitt,” I moaned, feeling my stomach balling up and vibrations through my clit. I squeezed tight, earning a grunt from him, but it didn’t slow him down.Fuck I didn’t want him to!

Kinga had a map to my body with the way he had me pinned and bent like a fucking pretzel.

“Keep doing that shit, you’re gonna… Fuck!” He buried the whole top row of his teeth into his bottom lip. “You fucking with me, Harlem.”

I smiled, but it didn’t last long because before I knew it my back was against the wet glass, like he was trying to put me through it.

“Kin…Kinga,” I moaned, feeling my core balling and my legs widening. My slick folds puckered for him while his hardness repeated motions, summoning an orgasm strong enough to wreck me.

Grinding forward, I accepted each thrust with a meeting of my own, attempting to lessen the shattering, but I couldn’t. I was coming so hard, his continuous touch sent tremors to every part of my body he was still touching. Pure ecstasy, almost as strong as the edibles I tried years ago, washed over me and I felt him like a wave in the ocean. Like water to a heatwave. I felt him so deep my whole existence started to unravel right there. What started out as coordinated thrusts on his part lost rhythm and before I knew it, he was coming too, holding onto me like I might disappear at any moment.

Hours later we lay in his bed talking like the best of friends about days we were both glad had passed. Who was I kidding when I said I was getting attached to this man. Shit I was already attached to this man.

Damn time.

Damn fate.

Damn anything that attempted to remind me how fast this happened.

“You wanna tell me who pissed you off earlier?” he asked when we were finally lying in his bed. He was on his side staring at me while I lay on my back, eyes glued to the ceiling.

“When?” Confusion swept my features until I remembered exactly why I’d gotten mad earlier.Hari.“My brother.”

“Who, the older one?” he asked, hand easing up and down my chest.

“No, not OA. Hari. The brother on my father’s side.”

His expression went cold and I felt his energy rise. “What he do?”

I gave him the rundown of what happened with Hari earlier, and immediately he understood why I was pissed. I didn’t know if that was because he was a street dude or what. He even seemed pissed himself. We talked for a long while after, him assuring me that I wasn’t wrong, that Hari was indeed weird as hell like I initially thought.

“I told you I’d trunk a nigga for you, Harlem, and I mean that shit.”

I cheesed hard, even though what he was saying was nearly homicidal. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” His hand massaged up and down my back as I lay with my face against his bare chest. “People gotta know I won’t fuck around behind you, baby girl.”

Sleep came easy in his arms, a security I didn’t remember ever really experiencing with Zax. Kinga’s presence made me feel like nothing else mattered.

The next morning I was up earlier than him and his niece, because I was so used to dealing with my dogs. Instead of going back to sleep, I freshened up before making my way into the kitchen. There I found the things to make breakfast. I was halfway through an episode of SVU and had a stack of pancakes on the plate when I heard small feet coming toward the kitchen.

When I looked up, Aja was standing in the doorway with a toothy smile. Baby girl’s hair was all over her head, coils thick and knotted up.

“Hi, Harlem.”

“Hey, pretty girl, are you hungry?” I asked, rolling the sausages and flipping the bacon. One thing I loved about Kinga’s kitchen was the double stove. He had one against the wall with the traditional burners and the other in the center of the island with flat burners. It was aesthetically pleasing, but also lovely when I was cooking multi-step dinners.

“Can I help you?” she asked, moving to the side of the island where the tools were.

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