Page 60 of Made to Love Ya

He still had not shared what he had planned for us to do tonight during his half of the date night, but I was excited to see what it was. Izael insisted that we focus on building our relationship for a little while before we turned it physical again. And though I was horny as hell, I agreed with him.

That didn’t mean I would make it easy for him. I enjoyed teasing him by sitting on his lap gyrating or leaning over brushing my breasts all in his face and making suggestive comments. Still, I respected the stance that he made, and I honestly knew it was the right thing.

When he had been in my home, we had sex so frequently it felt like we were fucking like rabbits all the time. The approach we took now would tell if we had what it took to stand the test of time. This would prove if we truly had more in common than hot sex and a shared childhood history.

Our date nights forced us to talk, share our thoughts and feelings, and build on the connection we had in a different manner. I loved when he shared his dreams with me about building a family one day, and his fears about losing everything the way his father and mother had. He still didn’t understand why they didn’t work out, but I insisted the story would come in time. While Izael insisted they just broke up for no reason, I insisted there was something they weren’t willing to share with him yet, and he needed to respect that.

I refused to buy that people broke up for no reason. It would be different if they were just dating, but they had been married for years and had two sons who were in their preteen and teen years. Too much was invested between them to just decide one day, “Oh, well, we don’t love each other anymore or have anything in common. Let’s split up.” It didn’t make sense to me, but I didn’t believe that it was something he needed to stress about either.

It was my intention to prove to Izael that I loved him and that I wasn’t going anywhere. It didn’t matter what we went through, I was willing to put in the work and fight for him like he’d fought for me. I loved my man, and he was worth whatever we had to go through to earn our happily ever after. I would forgive him until the end of time without rhyme or reason.

“Izael,” I called out after another forty minutes. “Izael, I know you’re not over there snoring.”

His masseuse Denise giggled. “Yes, he is. He’s knocked out.”

“Nisey is known for giving men the hands. She’s got those knockout drops in her fingers,” my masseuse Nicole stated.

“It must be this lofi music, the waterfalls, lavender, and dim lighting,” I pointed out. I wasn’t giving that heffa too much credit on my man. Not that she probably hadn’t done her big one on Izael, but still.

I swung my legs over the side of the massage table as the masseuses walked to the door.

“See you guys around,” Nicole commented.

“Thanks, ladies. Have a good evening.”

“You too,” they called back.

I slid off the table and walked over to my man. My hands gently rubbed up the backs of his thighs and to the inside of them. I dragged his towel up over his ass as I went until I could reach his dick. I stroked it softly and then cupped it.

I clenched below with need and had a brief thought of positioning myself so that I could take Izael into my mouth. But before I could allow that thought to form good, he sat up and swung on me.

I ducked out of the way just in time to avoid getting my head knocked off.

“Damn, Zae.”

I huffed as he said, “Chè, the fuck?”

“You almost took my head off,” I explained as I walked to where my clothes hung in the oak wardrobe on the opposite end of the room.

“Did you grab my shit while I was sleeping?” he asked, holding his dick.

I smirked. “Um, yeah. I was a little hungry.” I licked my lips for emphasis.

He chuckled, shook his head, and scratched his beard. “I thought I was being assaulted.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “My masseuse. Shit, the last thing I remember is her putting them magic hands on me. I wake up to my dick being grabbed. I was about to knock her ass out.”

“Why?”

“This shit belongs to you.” He tugged his manhood firmly and got off the bed.

“Does that mean I can have some?” I asked, walking back to him with our clothes in my arms.

“Your little freaky ass is gonna get some soon enough. Trying to attack me and take advantage of me while I’m vulnerable.”

I shoved him as he took his clothes from me. “Boy, you’re killing me with all this victim mentality.”

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