“Ni?a is not exactly a sexual reference, Zo,” he growls.
“Not always, but sometimes it is. You call me that when you’re aroused. And don’t act like I don’t get feisty when we’re sexing, too.” My voice turns seductive. “That Ni?a makes your toes curl—” I gasp. “Look at who comes to life at the mention of that Ni?a!” Speaking into his lips, I whisper, “He knows Ni?a. He wants Ni?a, too.”
I flick my tongue into his mouth and push my sex into his pelvis, though his stiff appendage is against my belly.
“You’re a damn sex fiend, Zo,” Stenton groans.
“No. I’m a Ni?a.
~~~~~~~~~~
~Stenton~
So this is what that shit is like, huhn? This is what my life has become: consumed by every waking thought of Zoey and Jordan. I’m familiar with the preoccupation, they’ve been my world for eight damn years. The difference is the acute memory of her passion. Constantly thinking of her little soft hands and warm and well-secreted mouth on me. When I’m not with her, reminiscing on her concentrated expressions when she’s blowing me or riding me. Playing back the images of her writhing beneath me while tied to the bathroom door or dangling from the damn dining room table...it all drives me crazy.
But it doesn’t stop there. When Zoey and I lay around, talking about my retirement portfolios and investments, I feel accomplished. When she once again says no to heading up my charity organization, but takes on another “interim” role, as she puts it, and makes a valuable call in the name of its mission, I know without a doubt this woman was made for me. And when she abruptly ends our business conversations to slowly strip in the office at her place in the middle of the afternoon while Jordan’s in school, I damn near lose control. Zoey manipulates me. I know it. I also allow it because it makes me feel alive. It draws a contrast to Stenton Rogers, the figure. My interaction with her levels me and makes me feel…human.
This dating thing has been good. This past month since snatching her ass up from Jamaica has been quite the adventure. I have my family back. Chilling out with Jordan isn’t new. He’s been my ride or die since his mother stopped breastfeeding him, however being with him and his mother has been the best. The problem is we can’t keep our hands off each other. It’s been an interesting phenomenon over the past few weeks since we’ve been fucking again. We sneak kisses, touches, and lewd glances when Jordan isn’t looking. Just last week, when Jordan had passed out on the floor of the theater room in Alpine during one of our family nights, I had to muffle Zoey’s mouth as she came in my hand when I fingered her on the couch. When she was done, I jumped up to put Jordan to bed and came back into the room to curse her ass out. That was her fault. She’d literally enticed me by pulling my arm in her pants until I caved. Then had the nerve to moan while Jordan was just feet away.
I can still remember the sad look in her eyes and pout of her lips when I shouted, “Damn it, my son could have woken up to that shit, Zo! Do you know how scary that shit is to a six year old? If you can’t use discretion then don’t expect for me to play with you when he’s around!”