Page 14 of Her Pisces Allure
“How about a nap and then round two?”
“Mm. Deal.”
Fayth’s pussy got my soul screaming for a repeat while my mind begs me to lock her down. Consequences be damned.
“Why are you gripping the neck of that bottle like that?” Sharif’s inquiry cuts into my thoughts, forcing me to return to the present.
Sharif, Roman, and I are hanging out to catch up due to Sharif returning to town with an unknown timeframe on how long he’s staying.
“It’s probably because he’s been dodging me and the chicks who could remove the backup in his dick,” Roman says.
Nah, it’s the fact that your sister and her pussy have me in a chokehold. Or the fact that keeping Fayth a secret while entertaining you feels disrespectful to my love. Wordlessly, I lift the bottle to my lips and take a healthy drink to silence the thoughts ringing loudly. Roman and I have been friends too long for me to hide the woman I’m with but here I am. I feel like a fucking fraud.
“Oh, let me find out you’re in a drought,” Sharif adds.
Not hardly, but I’m not about to pillow talk about Fayth while pretending it’s not her.
“I’m cooling, man. What’s up with you, though?” Changing the subject is imperative to my sanity.
No matter how bad I feel about keeping it from Roman, I can’t walk away from Fayth. Feeling heat on my face, I shift my gaze from Sharif to Roman, whose intense gaze and twisting mouth increase my pulse. This shit is so wrong, but damn if being with Fayth doesn’t feel like divine intervention or the missing link in my life.
“What?” I ask Roman.
“I’m just wondering how the two people closest to me have been acting funny style with me lately. First, Fayth, by turning off her location, and now you. Did I piss in your Wheaties or something, bro?” Roman barks.
“Man, if you don’t get your emotional ass out of here.” Laughing, I wave Roman off as Sharif joins in, yet Roman doesn’t.
“I’m serious though. You’ve been home a minute. This is only the second time we’ve kicked it. Had this nigga not come home, you probably would still be icing me and shit. What’s good?” Roman asks.
“Maybe I’m not the one dealing with a backed-up dick. Ain’t nothing going on. I’ve been working and trying to get reacclimated to being home. We’re straight, so chill,” I tell Roman, taking another drink of my beer.
“Hm. How is Sunshine? It’s funny that her ass ain’t really been talking to me, but I saw your car in her driveway last night,” Roman continues, and my chest hammers from my lapse in forgetting to pull into the garage.
“Oh. She’s straight. A few of her lightbulbs were out. She said she couldn’t get a hold of you or something like that,” I provide, using the lie I told Fayth I would use the first time I was at her house.
“No the fuck she didn’t. I ain’t talked to her lying ass. This shit is crazy. Why didn’t you call me? You know I take care of Sunshine’s needs,” Roman grumbles.
“Damn, bro. Let your sister breathe. That’s probably why she didn’t call you. You’re sitting here acting like a jilted lover or something. This ain’t a good look. I’m sure Quintyn had it and got little sis squared away,” Sharif interjects before I can answer Roman.
Getting Fayth taken care of had been the understatement of the century when I happily fucked her to sleep and left to avoid being caught knee-deep in her pussy, which sounds probable from learning about Roman’s impromptu drive by.
I wokeup with his name on my lips. Sweat beads down my neck, sticking to my silk pillowcase. My thighs clench under the covers, soaking in the afterglow of dreams that have no business feeling so real. Same dream, different night—me against a wall, Quintyn’s lips at my ear, whispering admiration for me, making my chest burn. The way he slides inside of me in the dream—slow, deep, like he’s trying to tether our souls together. I woke up gasping, my heart racing, and my nipples hard beneath my sleep dress.
I hate how much I want to feel Quintyn between my legs again. Quintyn didn’t just touch and caress my body; he branded it. I should be scared of Quintyn’s effect on me and my body. Yet, I’m scared of me, terrified of how every time I thinkabout the dominating way he growled, “Wet up your dick, Lay” while fucking me with deep strokes, I damn near came without touching myself. I’m scared of how my body remembers him when I was never supposed to know him in this regard. Now, I’m avoiding Rome and Quintyn.
Knowing that Quintyn and I could have been caught in the act by Rome popping up at my house has pain in the back of my throat. My stomach has been upset for days, preventing me from eating or drinking much of anything. Avoiding Quintyn has been challenging because I’m pretty sure the ejaculation of his dick created a soul tie between us. The thoughts of our relationship imploding had me unable to sleep last night, making me grateful for today being Sunday. While I would ordinarily spend the day cleaning, binging my favorite shows, and lounging, I’m beating the pavement at Gripley Park, trying to shake my varying thoughts.
The music playing through my Bluetooth stops, alerting me of an incoming call. Unable to stop to check the caller ID, I tap my ear to answer the call.
“H-Hello?”
“Aye, I’m on my way, and you better not try to leave either.” When the music starts again, I roll my eyes at Rome’s demand.
Since I’m staying away from Quintyn, I made the mistake of turning on my location in one of my moments of weakness. Rome’s forceful tone made me realize how stupid I was as I continued my jogging around the walking trail. With no companion, I chose to run around the circle at the front of the park so I wouldn’t become a statistic. The sounds of Joe serve as a backdrop for my thoughts, and I continue hitting the pavement with tunnel vision.
“Why the hell aren’t you watching your surroundings?” Rome asks loudly, causing me to jump from his unexpected presence beside me.
“Shit! Why didn’t you do something to announce your presence without giving me a heart attack?” Clutching my chest, I slow my pace while my chest rises and falls in response to being caught off guard.
