Stenton’s eyes glossed. He shook his head and grumbled through his impending emotions, “We’re not ready yet.” He cleared his throat again. Then his head collapsed into the wall that held up his long frame.
His eyes never left mine, but his message was crystal clear. He was not asking to be a family as I’d hoped. However, his heart was not ambiguous in his expression. We were together, in that moment. He’d just informed my father that I wouldn’t be coming home tonight. I could see the swelling against his thigh, could feel his longing mere feet away. With my body still trembling, now humming for his touch, my neck straightened. I was communicating back to him. I needed him. Still.
After long seconds, he pleaded, “I don’t know how. I don’t want to hurt you.”
There was more than one interpretation of his words. He wasn’t ready. This wasn’t an attempt to reconcile. My heart broke, but my body rattled with overwhelming desire. In that moment—its first occurrence of many over the years to come—I conceded. I consented to overlooking my heart.
“You hurt me by maintaining this distance. You have me question how,” I grabbed my belly. “…this happened…did it come from love. You wound me by not touching me, making me still feel desired. You cause pain each day you neglect my heart!” The tears finally descended and my shoulders collapsed.
I heard when he painfully breathed out, “Ni?a…”
In a nanosecond, Stenton was on me. His tongue was down my throat, filling me, pouring the familiarity of the love we once shared. The love that I’d easily forgotten that he carried, too. My hands cupped his face. The pads of my fingers moved against the spikey hairs of his strong jaw as I joined his tongue in a tussle. My breasts grew heavy, my breathing ragged and audible. Stenton’s big hands grabbed my rear cheeks in a rough pull, raising me inches above my natural ground. My hands moved up and wildly through his hair, reminding me of old times.
He backed me to the bed. I didn’t want to separate from our embrace. Apparently, neither did he when he lifted me from underneath my arms and placed me on the edge. Before I knew it, he was removing my clothes, caressing the goose bumps that cover my skin. I pulled his shirt over his head as he hovered above me, needing to see the artwork of his mahogany skin. My breath caught at the recognition of the black, yellow and red ink stains that stretched nearly his entire upper frame. His lean muscles flexing in excitement, reminding me of our chemistry.
My hands flew to his jeans, impatiently undoing his belt then button and zipper. I pulled his pants down and without thought pulled him into my mouth. He mumbled something through his teeth that I couldn’t decipher because I was too busy expressing my needs. Stenton nearly collapsed backwards, having to catch himself. When he did he roughly pulled my clothes from my body, only using delicate hands around my belly. Once everything was off and we were both bare, I hurriedly scooted up the bed to make room for him.
Some feral sound shot from the back of his throat before I heard, “C’mere!” as he grabbed me at the thighs and buried his head between my trembling thighs.
My back slammed against the mattress and my hands raced to the back of his head, holding him in place. I missed his touch. I was reminded of how his tongue firmly moved in between my slickened lips with hunger. I felt him in every crevice below, licking and sucking and pulling and sparring and…humming. That’s new. Stenton was droning his satisfaction of my intimate flavor. In no time, my pelvis went from rocking to vibrating beneath his face. Delicious pressure mounted, not giving a moment to brace myself. I screamed my release with one hand on my bulging belly and the other on the back of his head.
My thighs were being pulled back down the bed. And before I could clear the blur from my eyes, I was being pulled from the bed by my arms. I tried clearing my hazed eyes, and when I did, I saw Stenton lowering himself in front of me.