Page 23 of Love You Like That

My OG Big Ron was behind the grill in an apron that said “King of the Flame.” Smoke rolled up from the pit like a holy spirit. He looked up and grinned. “Look at this nigga!” he barked, pulling me in for a half-hug. “Mr. Poetic done blessed us with his presence. Bet ya ass still can’t whoop me in spades though.”

“Nigga, don’t start,” I laughed, already catching the rhythm of the night. “Where the Henny at?”

He pointed to a cooler. “Cold beers on the left. Liquor on the right, young blood.”

I grabbed a red cup and poured up some Hennessy before wandering through the crowd. Dap after dap, the same sidewalk I used to write poems on was now lined with fold-up chairs and love. Then the energy shifted. I felt her before I saw her. Heads turned as Yavanni stepped out of a car looking every bit of the black goddess she was.

She had on this flowy, burnt orange two-piece set, a tank top, and a skirt that floated around her thighs. Her locs werestyled in a bun with two hanging down with golden cuffs on them, catching the late sun. Bamboo hoops, gold anklet, and brown sandals that showed off her white-painted toes. Her waist beads peeked every time the wind teased her top. Every nigga on that block noticed her but when her eyes found mine, she smiled like I was the only one there.

I moved toward her before I even realized I was walking. She met me halfway. “You look so good,” she teased, her eyes twinkling. I was basic as fuck dressed in some tan cargo shorts, a black tee, and some Jordans with my jewels on and a black fitted over my locs.

“And you look like I might have to beat somebody’s ass before the night’s over,” I murmured, taking her hand and spinning her slowly before pulling her in.

The people around us noticed, too. Somebody whistled. Somebody else said, “Oh he locked that down, already?”

“Yeahhhh, E!”

She laughed, leaning up to kiss my lips. “You weren’t lying. This a whole scene.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

I led her through the crowd and introduced her to aunties and cousins, homeboys and OGs. She complimented somebody’s potato salad, held a baby on her hip for a whole conversation, and laughed so loud playing Uno at a table with two little girls that my chest tightened watching her. She fit right in like she’d always belonged.

Later, we stood near the sidewalk, her sipping jungle juice out of a red cup, my arm around her waist, watching the dark sky. “You good?” I asked her.

She leaned into me, smiling and I could tell she was lit just like I was. “I’m more than good.”

We didn’t even make it out of the neighborhood before the sky cracked open and we took off running towards her car. Rain fell hard, fast and relentless. The streets shimmered under the glow of streetlights, and the last of the block party crowd rushed for porches and overhangs. We were soaked and just looked at each other, laughing. And then, her gaze dipped low to my lips as she bit hers.

Looking at me from the driver’s seat like she was hungry. Not for food. For me. She hadn’t even put the key in the ignition yet. We’d barely closed the doors before the air betweenus shifted. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her lips parted, locs damp from the mist in the air, and the dim light from the dash cast gold shadows on her skin.

I leaned over the console and place a hand on her thigh, my voice low and thick. “You gon’ drive… or you tryna start somethin’?”

She looked at me with fire in her eyes. “What if I already did?” Then her lips were on mine. She kissed me like we hadn’t touched in weeks and she’d waited all night for the moment we’d be alone. Her hand slid up the back of my neck, nails grazing my scalp just right, and a low growl escaped from my throat.

“Back seat,” she whispered against my mouth. “Now.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. We stumbled over the console, laughing in breathy moans, the sound of the storm outside like percussion to the chaos we were about to create. The windows fogged instantly, humidity from our skin mixing with the rain hammering the roof.

She straddled me, her skirt hitched up, waist beads clinking against my abs as she slid onto my lap. No hesitation. No mercy. My hands gripped her ass, kneading and guiding as she groundagainst me, slow at first, teasing. I hissed through my teeth, trying to keep it together.

“Yaya…”

“Shut up,” she breathed, kissing me again. “Let me feel you.” That jungle juice had her gone.

She reached between us, freeing me from my jeans, her fingers tight, warm, and skilled. Then, with a slow roll of her hips, she sank down onto me in one deep, smooth motion. We both moaned.

“Fuck,” I whispered, eyes rolling back as her walls clenched around me. “Damn, baby…”

The car rocked slightly with the rhythm of her movements. The rain beat the windows like applause. She gripped my shoulders and started riding me with intention. A slow grind, deep roll with her hips swirling like she was sculpting the moment into memory.

“Ezra,” she moaned, head falling back. “God…you feel so—”

I cut her off with a kiss, gripping her waist and guiding her harder, faster. “You feel like home, baby,” I muttered into her mouth. “Like I belong right here.”

She rode me deeper, skin slapping, her breath turning into soft cries, moans muffled into my neck. I watched her unravel with her face flushed, body trembling and every bounce of her hips a promise I wanted to live in.

“Say it,” I demanded, my voice low and gritty. “Tell me this pussy mine.”

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