Love Me Always

by Peyton Banks

  “I don’t know who hurt you, but he’s not me,” he says, making eye contact with me.

  Is it that evident? The pain and reluctance I feel over my past. Not wanting to talk about it, I reach for his shoulder, pushing him down until he’s eye-level with my pussy. The memory of us in his office sends a throbbing rush to my sex.

  “Damn, Piccola. I see your clit swelling for me.” There’s a guttural groan that follows. “Mm. That’s right. Let me see you clench it.”

  I do as I’m told, making good use of all the months of Kegels I’ve practiced. Kareem slips a finger between my lips, rubbing my arousal up and down my slit. I observe him, and it’s like he’s dazed and seemingly unaware that I’m even in the room with him. All that’s there is him, and the desire he has to please me.

  After a moment of playing with the nectar that seeps from me, he brings his mouth to my pussy, kissing me softly. Over and over before finally spreading my lips and dragging his tongue from my hole up to my clit where he sucks my sensitive bud. I gasp aloud and unapologetically, throwing my head back in ecstasy.

  “Oh, shit,” I moan, running my hand through his waves. “Yes.”

  Kareem uses my cries as fuel for his efforts. His long, thick tongue circles my entrance, diving in and out. The wet, sticky sound of our juices fills the air, driving me wilder than I ever dreamed possible. He finds my clit again, pulling it between his lips, using his tongue to torture me.

  “Look at me,” he commands. “I want you to see how fucking good you taste.”

  “Fuck, Kareem.” My back buckles at his words and I almost lose the strength in my arms. Doing just what he demands, I watch as he licks my pussy like it’s the last he’ll ever have.

  Seeing the thrill he gets from pleasing me turns me on more. My muscles jerk, and he groans at the sight of it.

  “Fuck me,” I plead.

  “Only if you can let go. Let me in completely.”

  All I can do is nod my answer. I know what he’s asking me, but the only thing on my mind is an orgasm, one that I know only he can give. Kareem jerks upright, then devours my mouth, moaning as he does it. His touch, his smell, it’s all too consuming, and honestly, I don’t know If I can stand it. What better way to blackout than at the stroke of a mind-blowing rapture?

  Kareem

  I release her lips and run my hand from her chin down to her throbbing pussy. It’s wet and ready for me.

  “So what’s it going to be, little one? Are you going to let me in? Let me have my way with your body and your heart?”

  I watch as she contemplates my question. She wants to deny me what I’m asking. It’s in her nature to be strong and not to feel. I sensed it the first time I heard her voice, but there’s a sliver that wants me to penetrate her, and I don’t mean with my dick. Not that I don’t want to, but I want to stimulate her in every way I can.

  “Just fuck me, please.”

  “Not until you answer me,” I say, still playing with her dripping pussy.

  She huffs, fighting to find her breath and her words.

  “I want to give you this dick. But only if you tell me what I want to hear,” I repeat.

  She nods.

  “Um, hm. Use your words.”

  We stare at each other for a moment.

  “Kareem, fuck me. Now.”

  I want to keep up with my demand, but I’d be lying if I said her passion, strength, and power didn’t make my shaft throb. No matter how bad I want to keep up this power play, I can’t. My dick is begging to be a part of the action. Glancing down, I peep the wetness pooling in my crotch area. With one hand, I lower my sweat pants and tear the condom wrapper with my teeth.

  Sliding the rubber over my meat, I align myself with her pussy.

  “Say you’ll let go.” I run the head of my dick along her entrance.

  “I’ll let go.”

  Her words course through me, down to my stomach, then my dick. I saddle up, pushing through her entrance, reveling in the way her warmth wraps around me. I throw my head back and fight for air. She feels so perfect, and deep inside, I know she’s meant for me and me for her.

  Before Rylan, sex never meant much to me, but it’s more than that with her. It’s like an out of body experience. This is why I need her to let go. I’ve never felt the connection I have with her with anyone else. It’s always been about the release. With Rylan, our souls are intertwined. It’s possessive, and I don’t know how I could ever walk away from this. Picturing her with another man makes me angry.

  Deep in my thoughts, I slam into her, trying desperately to erase any images of her with anyone else. When I come to, her eyes are closed tight, mouth wide open, and her head held back. I watch the veins in her neck, following them down to her breast. They’re round and taut from her arousal, bouncing with every thrust I give. My gaze trails down her stomach, to the sweat pebbling on her skin then the sight of my length moving in and out of her.

  She creams around me, and I nearly lose myself seeing how hot she is for me. I suck in a breath and continue to stroke her, long and deep. Her flesh is perfect—all of her is. My mouth waters at the sight of my dick disappearing into her walls.

  “Look down, Piccola. We’re perfect together.”

  As she looks, her face shifts into that of undeniable lust and pleasure, and her pussy grows wetter.

  I squeeze my eyes shut when she clenches around me. She’s going to come, but so am I. My back buckles, and my lungs tighten when she strengthens around me.

  “Damn it, Rylan. You’re going to kill me, babe.”

  “Oh fuck, Kareem. I’m about to come.”

  I pick up my pace; the pressure building in my sac is almost intolerable. “I can feel it.” I grit through clenched teeth

  “Yes... right there, right there,” she moans. “Oh, god, don’t stop. Please, please, don’t stop fucking me.”

  “I won’t, baby. Take all this dick. It’s yours.”

  Her head falls back, and without warning, she jerks as her climax consumes her.

  I don’t stop thrusting, even when her muscles have started to relax. I look down, seeing the evidence of our actions is all I need to meet her in ecstasy. A grunt escapes me as I pound into her. My gut tightens, then my balls, and before I know it, I collapse over her, our foreheads touching while I empty my seed into the condom.

  We stay connected for several minutes, just taking in each other’s breaths before I help her down.

  We make it back to bed, our legs draped over each other, and neither says a word. We lay still for what feels like hours before she finally breaks the looming silence.

  “Earlier, you called me something—”

  “Piccola,” I state before she can finish.

  “What does it mean?” Rylan cranes her neck to look at me.

  “It’s Italian for little one.”

  She goes quiet again, and I’m left wondering what’s on her mind. I push a dreadlock behind her ear, taking in her features, feeling surer of my decisions than ever before. I want her, and I’m not prepared to take no for an answer. Rylan stares at me, not once blinking or looking away. I smile at her strength.

  “I want you.” I pause. “More than just physically. I’m addicted to you.”

  She smiles and glances away, but I ease her head back to me.

  “I can tell you’re not sure. But I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s complicated. I’m going to be your boss, and you’ve looked up to my dad for years. But that’s just it. I don’t care. I’m not my dad, and I’m not walking away.”

  Rylan stares at me, and I can tell she’s uncertain. But I want more. I need more.

  I kiss her lips. “So, what do you say?”

  She looks at the ceiling. “How is this supposed to work?”

  “Well, anyway we want it to. But if it makes you comfortable, we’ll keep our relationship out of the office.”

  “Relationship?” she asks, surprised.

  “Yes. I don’t expect you to be head over heels, w
e’re still new, and I get that time is needed to strengthen our bond. I know what I want, and that’s more than a few nights of hot sex.”

  She nods.

  “If it helps ease your mind, I don’t even have to show up to the Atlanta office unless necessary.”

  She thinks for a moment before planting a kiss to my lips. “You play dirty,” she states.

  “It’s just a power play.”

  I smile, and Rylan shakes her head before pulling me into a kiss. “Yes.”

  About the Author

  Sade Rena writes multi-cultural romances where the heroes are sweet on their ladies, dirty in the sheets but completely irresistible.

  When she is not writing, you can find her dabbling in crafts or playing around in photoshop. She’s originally from Washington DC, where she first found her love for books. That love followed her to Goldsboro, NC and then again to her home in Texas. She’s addicted to The Vampire Diaries and all things Marvel. Where ever there’s country music and good drinks, you’ll probably spot her out on the floor cutting a rug.

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  Ignition

  ML PRESTON

  1

  “Our numbers look good team, but we can do better. We need to make sure we are meeting our clients’ needs at every point. They trust us to increase and diversify their financial portfolio and pay us handsomely to do so. So, go back over your client list and make some calls today and Monday. Ask those questions to let you know what you can do to make their returns better. That’s the meeting for today. Enjoy your weekend.”

  Lucas is a great supervisor. Once he accepted the position of Sr. Account Manager, I inherited his top clients. My commission increased three-fold and I have been living life to the fullest. I bought a one-bedroom condo downtown and a nice, sporty Audi R5 coupe after receiving my first two bonuses.

  “So, you and Simone have plans for this weekend? I have the inside scoop on a surprise performance at the Red Hot Jazz Club tomorrow night,” I ask Lucas as we clear out the space.

  “Nah, we’ll have to pass.” He exits the conference room in the direction of our office. “Monie—Simone—has a bridal shower this weekend with her sorority sisters, and Sunday we’re gonna go out on the lake with our parents.”

  “Oh, that sounds good. Y’all have a good time and I guess I’ll see you Monday morning,” I say, following close behind him.

  “Actually, we’re both taking a few days off, so I won’t be back until Thursday. Which reminds me, I’m leaving you as my point man. I know you’ll handle things the way I would.”

  “Oh, okay. Sure, I’ll keep it in Lucas Weathers shape. What are y’all doing on those extra days?”

  He closes the door and blinds before he pulls out a small blue box from his briefcase and opens it. “Don’t say anything to anyone, but I plan on asking her to marry me.”

  The ring catches the light from the room and sparkles.

  “Oh, man. That’s sweet!” I pull him in for a bro-hug and pat on the back. “Congratulations, my dude. Who would’ve ever thought Lucas Weathers would settle down?”

  “Yeah, I know. But she’s really special. She keeps me together, you know. Focused and shit. She set up our whole house budget for a year and we even merged a few things to save money.”

  “So, I take it you used your savings to buy that miniature rock of Gibraltar?”

  We both laugh at my pun, but quickly pull it together when Simone walks in.

  “What are you two hens in here clucking about?” she asks while snaking her arms around Lucas.

  He clears his throat nervously. “N-nothing, babe. Just having guy talk. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes, I am. Just closed the Birchtree account, and looks like my team is going to kick your team's ass this month. So, be prepared to deliver my new handbag wearing nothing but a smile.” She leans in to kiss him and he grabs a handful of her backside.

  “Come on now, y’all. I know we all cool and shit, and your relationship is public knowledge, but still…”

  “Let’s go, baby. The single man wants to go on his weekend skirt chase.”

  “Dude, I don’t chase women. They come to me.”

  Simone rolls her eyes and takes Lucas by his hand, leading him out the door. “Bye, Rod,” she tosses back over her shoulder.

  I watch them saunter off to the elevator and embrace as the doors close, wondering if I’ll ever find a love like that. What those two have is genuine and I’m all for it, but I find it hard to meet a woman that will check off all the boxes on my list.

  “Hey, Rod,” a sweet, sultry voice calls my name.

  “Daphne, you are looking good as always.”

  She flips her hair and bats those honey-brown eyes of hers. Her smooth, peanut-colored complexion, long chestnut hair with gold highlights, and an amazing body shape makes me wonder why this woman is single.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” she questions.

  “Not much. Going to this little jazz thing tomorrow night and maybe catching brunch on Sunday. What about you?”

  “I was thinking of going to the Red Hot, maybe I’ll see you there.” She walks away with a knowing smile and an extra switch in her hips.

  The way that skirt hugs those curves makes a man think. But here’s the thing, I don’t shit where I eat. I mean, she’s fine. And from what I know, she has it all together, but I would never date anyone I work with. Don’t get me wrong, I know it can work. Lucas and Simone make an excellent example, it’s just not for me.

  I grab my briefcase and catch the elevator down to the parking garage. When I enter my car and press the Start button, the engine roars to life before settling to a barely noticeable purr. I rev the gas a bit before pulling out and heading home.

  Traffic is lighter than normal for a Friday evening, thanks to the game being held over at Wrigley Field. I decide to make a quick stop at the liquor store to grab some libations for relaxing at home. With my preferred brands of whiskey and scotch in tow, I climb back into my R5 and proceed on the route. My car sputters, which is unusual since I recently had it in the dealership for the required service. I step on the gas and it seems to return to normal, until it dies.

  “Fuuck,” I groan as I coast over towards the shoulder and a ways from traffic. I put the car in park, turn off the engine and try to start it again. A grinding noise fills the vehicle, but it never turns over.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I pull out my phone and call for a tow. After which I call the dealership in hopes to voice my dissatisfaction and let them know I will be there in about forty minutes. The phone rings interminably before the automated voicemail system answers. The hours for service are announced and they further complicate matters since they are not open until Monday.

  I toss my phone onto the seat next to me, a little too hard. Rubbing my temples doesn’t do anything but add to my frustration. Retrieving my phone, I search for any automotive shop near my location, so I can have an idea on where my car is going. The search pulls up three of the closest to me but then I look at reviews. One of them stands out. Johnson automotive has a perfect rating and they work on imports. They are open till seven PM. Hopefully the issue is minor, and I can get in and out and still salvage my Friday night.

  Alexandria

  It’s Friday night and I had dinner plans with my girl Keisha. Notice I said, had. Halfway through my day, I had to cancel when one of my mechanics called out due to food poisoning. Which means the boss has to stay late and close. Not that I mind—after all, it is my business. But that leaves me a man short and four cars to get out of here, or else I will be eating the cost of labor. Thankfully, my other guy, Phillip, agreed to stay and help reduce the number to two cars left on the day.

  I did
agree, when I called, to go with her tomorrow to Red Hot Jazz club. She’s been trying to get me to go for weeks, but I prefer to spend my weekends at home with my Yorkie, Shavu. But since I had to cancel at the last minute, I must pay the penance. That’s been our thing since high school. If one person backs out and it’s not death related, they then must do something the other wants. I’ve had to pay that friendship tax more times than I care to count.

  I slide back under the SUV I am currently servicing and remove the oil plug to drain its fluid. Once completed, I tighten the plug and replace the oil filter. The sound of a truck fills the garage and I crane my neck to see it is one of the local tow guys. Phillip meets with the driver and an obviously agitated customer, and I know he is good with diffusing the situation.

  “Oh, no. That is too long; I need to talk to your manager,” the customer says.

  I roll my eyes knowing he’s going to be that customer. You know, the one who is always right and more important than anyone else.

  “Hey, Alex. You have a customer complaint on line one,” Phil comically calls out.

  “Okay. I’m on my way. Hey, can you finish up this change? I’ve drained, plugged, and replaced. Just need the fluids added and levels checked.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I slide from under the vehicle and use the cleanser to take care of my hands. I can see through the window he is pacing back and forth, making call after call. Shaking my head, I walk into the customer lounge. “Hi, I’m Alex, the manager. You requested to speak with me?”

  The tall, milk chocolate figure turns toward me and voices his complaint. “Your employee tells me that you are not able to get to my car today, and that, at best, it’ll be Wednesday before I can get it back. How are you a five-star establishment and you can’t serve your customers in a timely fashion?”

  He continues, and although I hear his words, my eyes can’t peel away from all this sexiness. His dazzling white smile is a perfect contrast to that smooth honey-brown skin. His fade and goatee are neatly trimmed, and those bedroom, hazel colored eyes damn near knock me on my ass. You can tell he works out by the way his shirt hugs his arms without even trying. Let’s not get started on that bulge in his dress slacks. Something about a sharp dressed man, I think to myself as he continues to explain his issue.