He rose and bent me over the coffee table to take me from behind. I still felt his juices mixed with mine on my inner thighs as he pulled my legs apart and entered me slowly. Azmir felt incredible and I became even more aroused by the way he gripped my hips, it caused heated blood to course through my veins.
In no time, his plunges sped up and for a moment I lost my grip on the table and my hand skidded against a portion that I could catch immediately before collapsing, accidentally hitting the stereo remote, switching on the power. All of sudden Blu Cantrell’s voice came crooning loudly through the speakers, “…I’ll get over you one day!” Quickly, I tried to hit the power button to shut it off.
“No…no! We’re going to work this song out of your system!” he screamed over the music and he leaned over to push the remote from my reach. Before I knew it, he started plowing pleasurably into me relentlessly while my heartbreak theme song flowed richly from the speakers. Each time my concentration went to the song, my body’s submission to Azmir would reel me back into the fact that he was inside of me, making my insides quiver. I felt my orgasm stirring, but it was rivaled by the pain that the song was causing to dredge up in my heart again. Tears started forming from self-pity. My mind was at war with my body. It was a vicious internal struggle. Acute pains of betrayal hit my chest as Azmir’s strong girth caused flutters in my belly.
“No! Let it go!” he commanded over the piercing tune.
I wanted to, so desperately I did.
“I’m here. Right here…inside of you. I haven’t gone anywhere. You feel it….you feel me, here in the flesh,” he spoke in between palatable thrusts.
Whether I liked it or not, my body was about to explode. My head yanked back as I screamed Azmir’s name like I needed him. The orgasm wrecked my core as I clenched down on Azmir, beckoning him to join me…and he did, forcefully. I felt his body shutter powerfully behind me, reminding of his muscular frame and strong being.
Our reunion didn’t stop in my living room. When we were done, Azmir turned off the stereo and tossed the remote on the couch as if he had disdain for the song, as though he knew it had been a part of my coping mechanism while trying to get over him. A song he never knew.
Something hit me.
I dashed over to the front window in search of the black sedan with tinted windows, only I didn’t see it. To be sure of my theory I threw on Azmir’s shirt, he looked at me as though I was out of my mind. I stepped out onto my porch and frantically searched up and down my block for it, to no avail.
I came back in to him, “You’re too busy a man to sit and stakeout my home all day, so did you have someone do it for you?” My gape was piercing. I wanted answers.
His contorted expression and busying himself with gathering his clothes gave him away. He couldn’t even look me in the face.
“Did you?” my voice louder and sharper than before.
He returned it with a scowl. “C’mon, Brimm, you need to wash that shit off you.” He was making reference to the concoction of his bodily fluids mixed with mine that was now trickling down my thighs. Brooklyn had returned. But I would not be moved.
“I’m not going any where until you answer me.” I crossed my arms to enforce the statement.
He stood in place, stretching his shoulders and lengthening his spine. “What do you want me to say…that I, like a fucking sucker, let you walk out of our apartment at two in the morning and didn’t make sure you were safe? That I’d let you go and didn’t worry and wonder about your whereabouts? You want me to say that I went on as though we never happened?” He paused in his crisp tone. “I’m sorry, that’ll never happen.”
I walked over and stood directly in front of him, intrigued by his truths. “That doesn’t explain how you know I played that song this past week. I’m sure your spy didn’t include that tedious, little known fact in his reports to you,” I muttered.