Page 67 of Collateral Love
His smile grew wider, but he obliged. He pulled his pants down to his ankles.
While I could maneuver around the car easily, his tall ass was cramped. I laid on him the opposite way so I could take his girthy dick into my mouth.
I opened my mouth as wide as I could to take him in. He gasped audibly when I sank him in. Just as I was moaning to fit more in, he put my clit back in his mouth and started sucking.
This nasty motherfucka sucked the shit out of my pussy and began sliding his fingers and tongue in my ass.
I giggled and took more of him in my mouth.
I never in my life enjoyed giving head. It made me feel powerless and like a chore. But Zayden fucking my mouth felt like a privilege. I became determined to empty his ball sack. I slurped and suctioned him into my wet and ready mouth and felt his body jerk.
He tried to move, but I took a page from his book and kissed his tip gently. That made him cum. I slurped that shit down and drank him in like he was my favorite Jolly Rancher.
He lifted me from his dick and told me to get in the back seat and bend over. I hopped over the passenger seat and bent my fat ass up. Zayden got out of the car and entered the back seat through the left side. He closed the door behind him and took me from behind. He slid in deep. The feel of him rewired my insides. His dick repeatedly hit my g-spot as he pulled my hair and talked shit in my ear. “YaYa, this is my pussy, baby? I’ll shoot a Nigga over this pussy?”
His threats and growls made me wetter and made me throw my shit back harder.
“Ever give my dick away and I’m stabbing bitches behind you.”
He chuckled. “Bestie?”
Yeah, I purred. “Shut the fuck up and take this dick.” He stroked harder and pumped faster as we tumbled into our awakening together. I accepted there was nothing friendly about this shit between us anymore, and even though we may have started this relationship as friends, but now we were definitelylovers. I knew as he was emptying his seeds into my pussy, that I would never find a lover better than Zayden King.”
After, the car was quiet again.
The windows had fogged; our breaths came slower, steadier. My body hummed, loose and heavy, a thousand knots untied all at once.
I lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was solid, unhurried.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low.
I nodded against him. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
I lifted my head and met his gaze. There was no smugness there. No conquest. Just concern and something warmer, deeper.
“I’m better than okay,” I said. “I’m terrified. But I’m good.”
He smiled, that soft, private smile he didn’t give to anybody else.
“Aight then,” he said. “We gon’ move carefully. No rush. No sloppy. We keep the system intact, and we protect what we just did like it’s another revenue stream.”
I swatted his chest lightly. “Only you would compare our relationship to cash flow.”
“Shit,” he said. “Cash flow ain’t never felt like this.”
I rolled my eyes even as I smiled.
As he drove me back to my dorm later, the world looked the same—same trees, same cracked sidewalks, same orange streetlights.
But something fundamental had shifted.
We weren’t just partners anymore.
We were a liability and an asset to each other in a new way.
And deep down, beneath the fear and the planning and the familiar urge to control every possible outcome, one truth settled in: if anything ever came for what we were building, ourbusiness, our love, or our family, it would have to go through both of us.
