Page 35 of Ex- Factor
“Yes and no. At first, yes. In the middle, no. But I thought I was.”
“Did you fuck him recently? Since I’ve known you?”
“No. Not since before we broke up. It’s been a minute. A long one.”
“Did you think about him when you kissed me the first time?”
“Not at all. I was thinking about how bad I wanted to kiss you.”
“Last night… when you hit Sinica. Was that about him?”
“That was about her. But when I hit him with the mic? Yeah… that was about him.”
“Why?”
I laughed a little. “‘Cause I been wanting to hit both of them for years. And I was just drunk enough to do it.”
Silas laughed too. That deep, sexy kind of laugh that makes you feel like you just told the best joke in the world.
“Last one,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want him back?”
I looked at him, dead serious. “I’m sure.”
I kissed him soft—no tongue, no heat—just lips. Tender. Solid. Then I reached between us and tugged his dick out of his boxers. He was already hard.
I shifted, lifted my hips, and sank down on him slow.
His head tilted back against the couch, eyes rolling as he moaned.
“Fuck…”
I started moving, up and down, from root to tip. I rode him slow, hips grinding deep. He grabbed the top of the T-shirt I was wearing—his favorite one—and tried to yank it up, but I stopped him.
“Don’t,” I whispered, breath catching. “I like this one.”
He didn’t care. He ripped it down the middle trying to get to my tits.
“I’ll buy you another one,” he growled, wrapping his mouth around my nipple, sucking hard.
I rolled my hips faster, grinding against him, our bodies slipping into rhythm like we’d been made to fit.
“Don’t I feel sure about you?” I asked him, teasing.
He didn’t answer. Just gripped my ass and thrust up into me hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs. Holding me steady, his with one hand, the other holding my breast to his mouth.
I draped my arms around his neck.
I swayed my head side to side. I was about to cum for him and I wanted him to cum with me. I held him tighter.
Fuck Donte and Sinica.
Chapter Twenty- Silas
The night felt easy, though my emotions were ragged.
Cool breeze, cold beers, charcoal smoke hanging in the air. We were outside on my patio, coals crackling in the grill, ribs slow-cooking while Cassius nursed a bottle of tequila and Jonas stirred something that might’ve been jerk marinade—but smelled like gasoline and hate. I would definitely not eat it.
Angel, Naomi, and Eshe were inside. From the open window, I heard SZA playing low. Somebody was laughing. Probably Eshe.
