Page 16 of Smoke After Hours

Never changing.

Always adapting.

There when I needed him.

If we were giving in to our temptations, that meant shit would truly never be the same again. There was also still someone after me. Ghosts who seemed to move in the shadows not stating why, after all these years, I was still a target when my father wasn’t even working for the current Ethiopian prime minister.

“Haijalishi nini nimekupata,” Volley stated in Swahili, gently squeezing my hand at his words.

No matter what, I’ve got you.I didn’t know Swahili well, but he’d said those words to me a thousand times, never failing to deliver.

“Nimekupata pia,” I answered. “I’ve got you, too,” I repeated in English, meaning every word.

Amidst the haze of cannabis and laughter, the group continued to share personal stories and secrets, their voices rising and falling with the crackling of the fire as Volley and I continued to relax on the hammock.

Thirty minutes later, Mr. Fairbourne set up the hookah shisha set that him and his wife had chosen to purchase instead of the organic gummies, adding a whole other layer to the night.

The cabins were a necessary spot for rejuvenation and renewal before we continued to the rest of the hop. And as the embers of the fire burned low, Volley and I eventually found solace in our cabin, the simple pleasures of friendship and connection still layered with unknown complications.

“You take the side closest to the window,” he directed. “I’ll take the side next to the door.”

I needed to change and take a shower, but I found myself rooted in place in our tiny cabin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping to me, concern etched in his facial features.

Twisting one of his dreads between my fingers, I opened and closed my mouth a couple times to tell him that nothing waswrong, and failed each time. Usually, I didn’t have a problem voicing what I wanted with Volley, but everything felt different. Like we were a multi-verse version of ourselves, unaware of how our current version should interact with each other.

Volley leaned his head to mine. “What do you need,? Tell me.”

“I need you,” I managed to get out. “Even with this new threat lingering, I fear that we’re on borrowed time.”

“I’ll always be yours,” he answered, kissing my right cheek. “No other woman has ever come close to claiming my heart the way you do.” He kissed my left cheek.

We’d kissed before during drunken games we played with our friends and an occasional comforting kiss when one of us were having a bad day. This didn’t feel like any of those times. For me, Volley and I didn’t only blur the line between friend and protector, but that of friend and lover as well. He’s the reason that I knew someone could make love to your body without ever touching it intimately. It was in the way his eyes tracked every move of my hands and how we’d spent years living in Pot Palace with me leaving my curtains open for his eyes and his eyes only.

I gasped a second before his lips hungrily kissed mine, nibbling and nipping at my mouth in a way that was so goddamn intoxicating, I was moaning into every kiss. My hands wrapped around his neck as he pulled me closer, his tongue exploratory in its deliberate strokes, instantly wetting my panties.

I wasn’t sure when Volley moved us to the bed, but when I felt it at my backside, I stepped onto the slightly raised platform and moved onto the mattress, kicking off my shoes in the process.

His hands were on my jeans, sliding them down my legs, while taking off my panties in the process. Our moves were unhurried, but that’s how Volley was. Even when he rushed, he often looked like he was taking a leisurely stroll.

He didn’t lick me right away, but instead, lifted one of my legs and placed it over his shoulder, dragging me closer to him and inhaling my scent.

“Fuckin’ sinful,” he growled right before his tongue flattened against my clit as he played with the bundle of nerves. When his tongue began lapping my folds, I found myself grinding my pussy into his face, meeting the strokes of his tongue.

My hips had a mind of their own as my mind began replaying every fantasy I’d ever had about him in this exact position.

“I’ve wanted to fuck your face for entirely too long,” I muttered, moaning out loud when he stood from his knees, laid down beside me, and lifted me so that I was now positioned above his face.

“Show me,” he demanded. “Show me how you’ve imagined riding my mouth.”

Oh fuck.I was sure I was dripping all over him, but he didn’t seem to give a damn as he thrust his tongue inside of me, causing me to wail out into the quiet cabin.

His growl deepened when my hips began moving at a faster speed as I chased my orgasm, consuming every part of his mouth that he was willing to let me use.

When he roughly gripped and slapped my ass, before massaging the sting, I lost all control, not even knowing that I enjoyed getting my ass slapped until it was his hand delivering the blow.

I cried out into that space so loudly, I was sure I was awakening all of our High Hoppers in the neighboring cabins. How could I not? To finally get a chance to fuck a mouth that invaded every dream every night was an exhilarating high that I never wanted to come down from.

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