Page 81 of Cuffed By Your Love
Her giggle was soft, taunting. “You’re insatiable.”
“Damn right,” I said, dragging my mouth from her collarbone to her throat. “You really think I’m gonna stop after one nut? Nah, baby. I’m greedy when it comes to you.”
My hand slid between her thighs again, fingers gliding over her slick heat. She jerked, trying to close her legs, but I pushed them apart and pinned her there. “You still wet for me. Youwantmore.”
“I can’t—” she started, voice breaking.
“You can. And you will.” I kissed her deep enough to steal the rest of her protest, tasting the wreck I’d already made of her. “Matter of fact…” I pulled back, breathing hard. “We’re going back to the shower.”
Her brows lifted. “The shower?”
“Yeah, baby. I’m gonna rinse you off… then fuck you under that water till you’re so wrung out you can’t eventhinkof giggling at me again without your legs shaking.”
Her breath caught, and I saw it—the little spark that told me she wanted it, even if her body was begging for mercy.
I scooped her up again, carried her right back to the bathroom, and set her down under the spray. The water hit her skin, steam curling around us, and I pressed my chest to her back, my arms locking around her waist like a vice.
“Round two,” I murmured against her ear, letting my hand drift between us to guide myself back inside her. “And this time, I’m not stopping till your voice is gone from screaming my name.”
Her gasp turned into a moan as I filled her again, the sound echoing off the tile. My grip on her hips tightened, my pace unrelenting, every thrust a warning and a promise.
“Better hold on, Jonay.” I growled, kissing the side of her neck. “’Cause I’m about to fuck you like you’re the only thing keeping me alive.”
By the time I finally let her go, her knees were jelly, her head tipped back against my shoulder, and her breath was coming in soft little whimpers that made my chest feel like it was splitting wide open.
I kissed the damp curve of her neck, slow and sweet now, like I had all the time in the world. “You good, baby?”
She gave me that tired, pretty smile that always knocked the air out of my lungs. “Baby, please,” she whispered, voice light and airy, then she giggled.
That sound, yeah, my dick twitched on sight. “You keep on playing with me, gorgeous,” I warned, my voice low enough to vibrate against her skin.
She shook her head, still smiling like she had no clue she was one breath away from me taking her right there. “Just… take me to bed.”
So I did.
I wrapped her in the softest towel, carried her to the bedroom like gravity didn’t deserve her, and laid her down slowly so I could take in the sight of her laid out, eyes heavy, lips parted, skin still damp.
I grabbed that shea butter vanilla body butter she made and warmed it between my palms, then started at her feet, kneading her arches until she sighed like I’d just rearranged her whole soul.
Up her calves, over her thighs, my thumbs pressed into her skin like I was relearning her from scratch. Every time she exhaled, I thought about how easy it’d be to keep her like this forever. No stress, no clothes, and no one else touching what was mine.
When I reached her hips, I kissed that dip above her pelvis, lingered there a beat, then moved up. Her belly, her ribs, her breasts, behind her ears. My mouth and my hands claimed every inch of her like I was re-marking territory that was already mine.
She kept her eyes closed the whole time, but her body melted under me, and that trust was what had me more addicted than the way she tasted.
When I finally slid in bed beside her, I pulled the covers over us and kissed the top of her head, my hand resting on her hip, keeping her tucked tight against me.
“You belong to me, baby,” I murmured into her hair. I said it low, like I was swearing an oath in court and promising to break every rule for her pretty ass. “Every breath you take, every blink, every beat of that heart… it’s marked for me. And I’ll never mistreat you, never fumble you. I’ll spend every sunrise, everydark hour, proving to you that being mine means you’re safe, you’re worshipped, and you’re wanted till the dirt takes me.”
She drifted off, soft and peaceful, but me? I just lay there, watching her like a man guarding treasure because that was exactly who I was.
And if I had it my way?
She’d wake up every morning with my hands on her, my name in her mouth, and not a single doubt in her mind that Elias Jamal Edmonds would burn this whole world down before he ever let her go.
I pulledup to The Nourish Nook, Self Ridge’s own Black-owned grocery store that felt like a soulful Sunday hug with fluorescent lights and two-for-one collard greens. The Nourish Nook was one of my peace places; eight aisles of Black-owned goodness, walls dressed in framed Langston Hughes quotes, and paintings of brown hands breaking bread. The smell of sweet tea, cornbread, and incense wove through the air like somebody’s auntie was somewhere back there stirring greens.
The Nook wasn’t just a market; it was a movement. A love letter to us. There were shelves lined with honey from local beekeepers, fresh okra laid out like grandma had just snapped it, and old-school jams playing softly through the speakers, buttery and warm, blessing everybody’s grocery list. The wallswere painted in warm, earthy tones with Black art on every aisle; portraits of thick-lipped women in headwraps, brown babies with bubblegum, and kings with beards shaped to perfection. The chalkboard by the front doors always had something motivational scribbled on it, and today it read: “Rest in your joy. It’s sacred.”
