Page 16 of In Another Time

I slid in slow, inch by inch, her walls gripping me like velvet heat. She moaned loud, back arching off the desk.

“Shit, you feel better than I remember,” I groaned, hips grinding into her. “You miss this dick, baby?”

She nodded, panting. “Yes. So fucking much.” I started slow, deep strokes that had her eyes rolling back. I watched her unravel—watched every twitch, every breathy moan, every plea. “Harder,” she begged.

I gave it to her. Gripped her hips and pounded into her, deep, dirty, deliberate strokes. The desk rocked beneath us, and she clawed at my back like she couldn’t handle it—but I knew better. She loved it.

“Say my name.”

“Omir,” she cried.

“Louder.”

“Omir!”

She came again—body locking up, pussy pulsing around me like she didn’t want to let go. And I lost it. I pulled out quick, stroking myself fast and hard until I exploded, thick ropes of cum splashing across her stomach and thighs.

She lay there, chest heaving, a dazed look in her eye. I leaned over her, kissed her lips, her forehead, her shoulder. “So,” I began, my voice low, “what now?”

Lennox stiffened slightly, then shifted to sit up, pulling the edges of her blouse back together. Her eyes flicked to mine briefly before she looked away, her fingers fumbling with the buttons left on it. “I don’t know,” she said softly, climbing off me. Her voice was calm, but there was a tension beneath it that I couldn’t ignore.

“You don’t know?”

She sighed, running a hand down her skirt. “Omir, we both know what this is. It’s just. . . sex. Amazing sex. But?—”

“But,” I echoed, feeling the weight of that single word like a punch to the gut.

She glanced at me, her gaze hesitant. “Nothing has changed. I still don’t want. . . anything serious or complicated. What we’re doing is just fine.”

Complicated. That’s what this was to her. WhatIwas to her. I adjusted my clothes, trying to keep my frustration in check. “You think I wanna keep doing this shit, Lennox? I told you fromjump it’s more than just sex for me. You think this is all I want? I wantyou.”

“No,” she said quickly, her tone almost apologetic. “It’s just. . . my life is so structured, so planned out. I don’t even know where something serious would fit.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I hear you.” I walked to the door, neither of us speaking. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Lennox.”

She followed my movements with her eyes, biting her lip like she wanted to say more but didn’t know how. “Omir. . .”

“Take care, Lennox,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

As she stepped into the hallway, she turned back, her expression conflicted. She didn’t respond, and I didn’t wait for her to. I shut the door, leaning against it as I exhaled a long breath.

The space felt emptier now, colder somehow. I couldn’t lie to myself—Lennox was under my skin, in my head, and the fact that she couldn’t or wouldn’t let herself admit there was something between us was frustrating as hell.

The frustration bubbled inside me, but it wasn’t just anger. It was disappointment. I wanted more with her—so much more. But I wasn’t about to beg.

I rested my head in my hands, letting out a deep sigh. “Lennox,” I muttered to myself, her name tasting bittersweet on my tongue.

LENNOX

Sunday dinners at my parents’ house were a ritual. No matter how busy we were, we were expected to show up, no excuses. And if you dared to miss one, you’d be met with a guilt trip long enough to last until the next meal.

As I stood in front of my closet, rifling through rows of neatly hung dresses and blouses, I couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive about tonight. My family didn’t let anything slide—not my career-focused single life, not my refusal to settle down, and definitely not the fact that I was the only one still coming to these dinners alone.

I finally settled on a simple black dress and heels and pulled my hair up into a sleek bun. A few touches of makeup, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror as I applied a quick coat of lip gloss, smoothing the edges with my finger. My thoughts drifted,as they often did lately, to Omir. It had been days since I’d seen him at his club, but the memory of our last encounter lingered like a song stuck on repeat.

I sighed, pushing the thought aside. Tonight wasn’t about him or the mess of feelings I couldn’t seem to sort out. Tonight was about family, and I needed to focus.

The smell of collard greens and baked macaroni greeted me the moment I stepped into my parents’ house, wrapping me in warmth and nostalgia. My mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen, sharp and commanding, as she instructed my older sister, Lorna, to properly set the table.

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