“Are you going to sit out here all night?”
He switched off the ignition and turned sideways, placing his feet to the concrete and leaning elbows to knees. He snapped his eyes closed. Air filled his lungs. One hand against his strong thigh he braced himself before looking up. He knew when he looked at her she would hypnotize him. Morgan Atkins stood in front of him.
“Did they give you a hard time at the gate?” she asked. She was fucking phenomenal. Long hair curly and slightly damp from the shower she’d taken, face bare, eyes as dark as night.
“Nah, they didn’t,” he answered.
“Are you giving yourself a hard time?” she asked. He bit his bottom lip and nodded, hanging his head. His turmoil hung on his shoulders. The guilt of his attraction to her weighed on him, but she had called and when the queen summoned, you answered.
“You’re fucking me up, Mo. I’m trying here.” Morgan placed a hand on the top of his head and he placed a hand to her stomach, fingers balling the fabric of her tiny camisole in his hands as she traced the pattern of his waves. “You know where you’re going to end up, so let’s just stop feeling guilty about it,” she whispered.
“You got to understand love…” he pushed and shook his head. “The shit I wanna do…”
“We’ve already done,” she reminded.
“Nah, love. New shit. More shit. Meek shit.”
Morgan’s entire body came alive. Her face turned red. She had heard the stories. Him fucking bitches until they lost their minds. That stalk a nigga dick. That bust his windows out his car dick. That put his tags in your name dick. That let him flip your income tax return dick. She wanted it, wanted it so bad that her nipples tightened, screaming for attention. Mo grabbed one hand with both of hers and pulled him to his feet, backpedaling until he stood and followed her. His stomach hollowed. His head was all over the place. Morgan and Ahmeek. Nobody could have predicted this. If anyone had ever suggested it he would have smacked the shit out niggas, but here he was. Here they were, and it was more than sex. It was more than physical.
“You have to be careful with that girl, Meekie. It’s not right. It’s not wrong either. It just is. The two of you are in denial if you think this is friendship. This is love and the stakes are high. You be extremely careful with how you handle this with her. She’s been broken before. Women don’t come back the same and someone’s going to end up hurt.”
His mother’s words rang in his mind. It was the warning that made him think maybe, just maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.
“I don’t plan on doing no hurting Ma,” he had said.
“You need to worry about her hurting you. She’s not one of them little jump-offs you used to running around here with. She got the leverage son. She’s going to eat you alive.”
They were both silent as he followed her up the stairs. The way her body reacted to movement was incredible. Little Morgan wasn’t quite little Morgan anymore. She had filled out, mentally and physically and she had ordered him up like she was picking up the phone to request a meal. She wanted dick, extra-large, with a side of finesse. Morgan was amazing. She took all of him. She didn’t run. Women ran from him, when he hit the bottom they bolted. Morgan took it and called his name. Her sultry voice, screaming that shit like she was in another world. He shook his head. Maybe his mother was right. She was going to eat him alive because he couldn’t get her off his mind. The sway of her hips led him to her door. Candles lit. Vanilla scent. They filled the apartment.
“Have a seat, Ahmeek,” she said. Her voice was sugary, full of seduction as she pulled a chair out for him, positioning it right in front of her mirrored wall.
Girl you know that you’re the shit when you’re walking with them heels on …
Morgan tiptoed over to him and stood between his wide legs. For the entire first verse she appreciated herself, swaying her hips, rolling her waist, and lifting her hands then pulling her own hair before swinging it wildly. Morgan was a show woman, the very best kind. She reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone, powering it off and tossing it to the couch. He was hers. No phone calls would be interrupting them. When that bridge hit Morgan lowered slowly into his lap.
I think it’s time we take a trip to the bedddd
Her hands wrapped around his neck, then up the back of his head and over the top of his waves as she surfed on him, riding wood so hard that the seat of her shorts soaked.
She stood and turned. Her eyes closed when she felt his teeth on her ass. He peeled her shorts away and licked the entire crease of her ass. Morgan quivered as her face crushed, like the can you put in the recycle machine. She was destroyed. Lust recycled the moan that slipped from her mouth. One hand to the small of her back bent her over. Her hamstrings pulled as she placed her hands on the floor. Ahmeek parted her, lips spreading, opening her like she was a double-sided refrigerator and he was looking for something to eat. His favorite dish. Her. He dove in nose first, moving his head side to side, nestling deep then pulling her clit into his mouth. He used so much pressure that his cheeks collapsed, dimpling, as he feasted on her.
“Meekie,” she gasped as her face pinched.
“Mmmm,” he groaned, planting both hands on her ass and pulling back to admire her body as he squeezed then rotated it. So much fucking ass in the palms of his hands. His dick ached he wanted it so bad. “My God, love. This shit…”
He didn’t even want to take the time to undress. He reached in his joggers and gripped himself, lowering them just enough to pull her down onto him.
Morgan danced, hands in front of her, snapping, eyes closed, swagging. Lip trapped between her teeth, moaning.
“You the shit, love. Fuccccck.” He couldn’t even control the shit that came out his mouth. Morgan was in a zone. She had called him over with this very thing in mind. Morgan had caught a groove. She kept the beat, a little off, always a little off as her head nodded, and her hips hit circles. She switched direction, rocking on him so hard the back legs of the chair lifted every time she rolled forward.
“Ssss,” he sucked in air between his teeth as he gripped her hips. His toes curled. Morgan was working him. Putting in overtime. A double shift on a holiday so she was getting time and a half. She rolled her body left and snapped, those fingers keeping the beat.
Forward. Snap. Right. Snap. Left. Snap.
I think it’s time we take a trip to the bedddd …
He pushed her ass up a little, so he could see her sliding on then off. He licked his lip and bit down. She glossed him so well. “This pussy is amazing love. Shit’s ridiculous,” he groaned. He leaned forward and planted teeth in the slight roll that gathered when she grinded against him. “Fuck, Mo.”
She popped that thang to the beat, lifting all the way to the tip of him, squatting on the dick, thighs burning, back sweating, hair swinging, heart pounding. Nobody moved like Mo. She made everything art. Like she did everything to music. A lap dance, the most sensual kind, only he didn’t have to pay to play. He had free access, like a thirty-day trial, and he wondered if it was temporary, if he’d have to figure out how to keep coming back. Switching emails every time the shit expired so he could get it again and again. Fuck it, he was signing up. Auto-pay every month so he could have it whenever he liked. Some shit was just a necessity.