Sometimes what’s forbidden is going back.
“You still want to talk about that girl,” Damian taunted.
His thumb and forefinger pressed against Elise’s throat, constraining her vocal cords just enough to stir alarm. She held her breath, waiting.
Fear surged through her, tempered by the strange comfort of his undivided focus. He squeezed tighter, more insistent now. Her eyes rolled back as her mind slipped to a memory—the last time they had touched, years ago.
He had made her moan another woman’s name: Simone.
Elise’s tongue brushed the edge of her lips, as if tasting the name now. Mouth wet at the sweet, tense recollection as she wondered if he would ever give her breath back.
His grip at her throat snapped her head into the pillow, only to release her as suddenly as he’d claimed her. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” he whispered. She gasped, inhaling sharply. He leaned his lips into her ear and provoked. “Answer me.”
His tongue traced a line from her ear down her neck to her chest, sweeping her left nipple.
The memories hurt and pleased her at once, and that contradiction made him hard.
He thought of Simone’s curves bouncing out of her gym clothes.
Elise had pleaded with him at the time: “You’re just a man, baby,” and he was. He bent the truth when he told her nothing happened.
He wanted them both.
Elise was the one he couldn’t do without, though.
But she had walked away and stopped speaking to him for years after. He never thought he’d have her like his again.
Her legs wrapped around his hips as her chest arched into his mouth.
He knew her body like a captain knows his oceans, but time turned him rusty now.
Unsure.
Distracted.
Elise sank into her fantasies, moaning sex talk from a tale he hadn’t been told, though the context made her meaning clear: “I want whatever you’re having, baby.”
He shoved her chest back with one hand and cracked the other hard across her face. “Don’t get mad when I lie to you.” He tore her legs free, raising them to his ears before plunging downward.
Simone had once reassured her over the phone: “It’s nothing. Nothing happened.”
Elise pictured Damian driving into Simone as payment for betraying his girlfriend, just as he’d ordered. “Yes, baby.”
“Good girl,” He praised her. She tortured herself with visions of Simone’s eyes meeting hers as he moved inside her, both of them relishing a desire so fierce it twisted into betrayal. “Now beg me for it.” His tongue swiped at her clit as it pulsed so hard she forgot who she was before it slid inside of her.
“Please, Damian.”
He knew her inside and out.
The rise and fall of her tones.
How her body ached against its own desires.
Sometimes, Elise begged him to let her confess how much she loved thinking of him with Simone; the next moment, she turned cold towards him.
Then she didn’t speak to him for years. Which had turned his hunger inside out.
He held it together, but his frustration had manifested in a busted door.
Patience worn thin.
Having her now reminded him of how the absence had stung. The strain of yearning for someone who no longer saw you. Only their delusions of what may have been with another. “That ass, baby, it’s too fat.” She was still there.
Almost there.
His tongue pulled her clit between his lips, and he sucked one time, hard, until she started to quake. As if he was pulling it out of her. “I’m cumming in your mouth.”
Never spin the block, they say. But she couldn’t stay away.
Killer Instinct is a cultural dispatch on Black diasporic life and sharp media critique. I host a live Internet radio show called Killer Frequency every Friday at 1pm AST—join me. Support, subscribe, and stay sharp 🗡.
Oooh, I really liked this! So sensual, and you perfectly articulated the passion of the scene. I could feel the tension👏🏽