Page 21 of Love You Like That

I smiled despite myself. “Hey. You busy?”

“Nah,” he said. “Just writin’. Drinkin’ a lil' bit. Chillin’.” I imagined him shirtless, legs spread with a pen in one hand and Hennessy in the other. That damn eye of his, sharp and always watching. “How was ya girls’ night?” he asked, after a pause.

I chuckled. “Messy, loud and therapeutic. Dianna said you probably got soul ties in your beard.”

Ezra laughed low and rough, the kind of laugh that slid down my spine like honey. “She ain’t wrong.” Silence sat between us for a beat too long and then his voice came through softer now, “I miss you, Yaya.”

I closed my eyes and gripped the wheel tighter. “I miss you too, babe.”

“Then come show me,” he said, voice dipping just low enough to make my thighs clench.

I didn’t need to be told twice. Twenty minutes later, I was standing in front of his apartment door with my heart thudding in my throat. The lock clicked and then the door swung open. And there he was. Shirtless with grey sweats hanging low on his hips and a half-drained glass of Hennessy in one hand.

He didn’t even get a word out before I dropped my purse to the floor and launched myself into him. Our mouths met hard, messy and deep. Hands everywhere; mine in his locs and his gripping my ass as he pulled me into him so tight I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. I moaned into his mouth, biting his lip, and he growled low, backing me into the wall with his body pressed against mine like he was trying to fuse us together.

“I miss you so much,” I murmured against his mouth.

“I been missin' you too,” he breathed, placing his glass down onto the kitchen table and slipping a hand up under my dress. “All of you.”

I pushed him toward the couch, unbuttoning the front of my dress as he dropped his sweatpants. I straddled him and his hands gripped my thighs tight, fingers digging into flesh like he couldn’t get enough. I kissed him like I was starving as I licked, sucked, and moaned into his mouth.

“You gon’ ride this dick?” he asked, his voice low and deep.

“Yes,” I breathed, lining him up and then I sank down on him. Slowly. Both of us groaned at the same time. His head dropped back, mouth open, his grip on my hips flexing like he was trying to breathe through it.

“Fuck, Yaya…” I rolled my hips slowly at first, grinding deep, watching his face tighten every time I clenched my muscles around him. He looked up at me like I was heaven and hell wrapped in one. “You feel so good,” he groaned. “You missed this dick?”

“Yes, baby, yes,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss him. “I’m sorry I missed your set.”

He kissed me harder. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad forthe shit.”

My rhythm picked up, faster now, bouncing on him, riding with purpose. “I really wanted to be there,” I breathed, nails scraping down his chest.

“You here now,” he growled, thrusting up into me, meeting me stroke for stroke.

I rode him hard with my hands braced on his chest, locs falling into my face and sweat gathering between my breasts as we moved like we were trying to make up for lost time. He fucked me from beneath, eyes locked on mine, teeth gritted and fingers digging into my ass.

“You 'bout to cum, ain’t you?” he asked, voice tight.

“Yessss! Ezraaaa!”

He sat up suddenly, arm around my back, slamming into me from underneath with power, precision, and ownership. “Cum for me, Yaya,” he whispered into my neck.

I cried out, loud and ragged, clenching around him as the orgasm ripped through me. He followed a second later, cursing low, thick inside me, holding me tight as we both trembled. We sat there after, tangled and breathless with our lips brushingeach other’s skin. And for the first time in days, the off feeling was gone. All that was left was us.

S h ew a sl y i n gacross my chest, one leg tossed over mine, her fingers tracing the ink on my stomach. I didn’t want to move or shift the weight of her or the weight of the moment. Everything felt right again. After days of space and weird energy, her body was finally back on me, her breath slowing against my neck. I could feel peace curling around my ribs like smoke.

My right hand was tangled in her locs, the scent of her oil—lavender and coconut—still clinging to my skin from when she’d ridden me like she was claiming something. And maybe she was. Because when Yavanni looked down at me now, smile lazyand eyes soft, I saw something deeper than lust. Something that scared the hell out of me but I still wanted it.

“Stop staring at me like that,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep and sex.

“Like what?”

“Like you're already writing about this moment.”

I smirked. “I am.”

She groaned and buried her face in my neck. “You're probably gonna make me cry from your next poem.”

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