Page 50 of In Too Deep

“Romelooooo, I’m cummiiiiing,” I erupted, squirting and spewing from my pussy. Like a dog, he held his mouth open and slurped it up, swallowing it immediately, and started sucking on whatever wetness was left on my lips, vulva, and pussy hole.

“Gon’ head and keep cummin’ then.”

My hand brushed against his waves, trying to move his head, but he skillfully attacked my pussy again, getting another orgasm out of me, closing his eyes and letting my juices settle on his tongue before sitting up. His mouth was slightly open as he grabbed my face, forcefully pulling my face toward his, and grabbed my chin so I could open my mouth. Accepting my cum, he poured it into my mouth, like he was giving me a waterfall from a 20 ounce bottle of Sprite. I flung my head back and swallowed it like a nasty ass bitch, following his orders.

Shortly after, he gripped my neck roughly, tongue kissing me hungrily and moaning into my mouth. “I’m nuttin’ baby. Fuuuck! I’m nuttin’,” he chanted, trying to catch his breath, while staring deeply into my eyes.

Beep!

A car honked behind us, breaking our staring session apart. I glanced ahead seeing the Toyota

A car honked behind us, breaking our staring session apart. I glanced ahead, seeing the Toyota ahead of us. There was enough room for another car to get in between us, and there was no telling how long it had been since they’d pulled up. Romelo bit down on his lip again, shaking his head as he put his car in drive and pulled up too. My eyes glanced down at his pants, noticing the wet puddle on his thigh.

“Put your leg down,” he demanded as he used the front of his hand to wipe his mouth after licking his lips.

Tasting myself was a first, and I tasted like nothing he bragged about. My heart was beating so fast, I knew it wouldn’t be long before it ruptured. Romelo was claiming my body, slowly taking ownership, and it felt so right, despite it being so wrong. The thrill of the deceit surged through me, a giddy rush of excitement that pushed back against the lingering doubt.

4:00P.M.

“I still don’t see why you have me getting in the trunk of your car now, after all of this. I’m claustrophobic. Why can’t you just blind fold me?” Synthia pouted after I carried the bags of food into the house.

“I got to keep the pressure off of me when it comes to you. One look in them pretty ass eyes and you’ll be beggin’ me to remove the blind fold and I’ll get weak,” I admitted.

“That’s absurd,” she mumbled and leaned on the island, watching me. “I’m sure if I had any plans to escape, you’d find me. I wouldn’t get far.”

“You’re right,” I agreed with her as I reached inside the plastic bag for our food.

“But tell me,” she started, reaching for her plate of wings.

We both ordered honey hot wings and seasoned fries with a fruit punch and lemonade mixed to drink.

“When do you decide that this is over?”

I shrugged, not wanting to think about that shit right now. The thought of letting her go put a bad taste in my mouth and ruined my appetite. She was always thinking of shit that put me in a fucked up mood. I ain’t never felt this way about a woman, not even my own. I’m starting to think Synthia put a root on me, or for lack of better words, had me pussy whipped. It was difficult to wrap my head around, and I couldn’t talk to anyone who I figured would understand well enough not to judge me.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you the answer to that,” I answered, before opening the lid and gulping down my drink while eyeing her pop a fry in her mouth with her face all screwed up.

“Why didn’t you just sip it from the straw?”

“Cause that shit gay. Niggas don’t sip, they need to be drinking. If I catch a nigga sippin’ from a straw, I’m chin checking him.” I frowned back, matching her expression before placing the lid back on my cup.

“Oh my God,” she giggled, while shaking her head. “No one thinks of shit like that but you.”

“That’s how my father raised me and my brothers,” I defended my actions.

“Oh, so it’s a bunch of other psychos,” her brow rose. “That makes sense.”

“I go for what I know, Synthia.”

“I bet you do,” she muttered with a mouthful of fries. “I’m sure you need to add kidnapper to your resume, unless this isn’t your first time.”

“Do I look like one?”

She stale faced me. “What do kidnappers look like?”

“I don’t go around kidnappin’ bitches if that’s what you’re getting at. I ain’t got bitches hogtied on some R.Kelly shit.”

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” she chastised me, licking ketchup off her fingers.

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