I get a rain check?”
Instantly, the throbbing in my pants stopped because I knew she was right, but my hardness hadn’t gotten that memo. The head on my shoulders understood why sex would be the last thought on Savannah’s mind, but not the head in my pants. He wanted to thank her for putting us first, and sending her to ecstasy was the best form of repayment. For the first time in years, both of my heads worked together to come up with a plan of attack. I left Savannah where she stood in the living room and drew a hot bubble bath. I threw in some of that lavender salt she liked to use when she wanted to relax and lit a few candles that she kept stationery in the bathroom. When the bath was drawn, I went back to get her. She was now barefoot, curled up on the couch, flipping through a magazine.
“Come on, let me help you relax some.”
I reached out for her hands. She hesitated, then grabbed my hands and stood on her feet. I had her undress and get in the tub. Then I connected her MP3 player to the speakers in the house and played her “’90s R&B jams” playlist. The first track on the list was “Butter Love” by Next. She sang along to the tune while I sat on the rim of the tub and rolled the perfect blunt in record time. I hit it twice and passed it to her, then headed to the kitchen to pour her a glass of wine. When I made it back, Savannah’s eyes were already sitting low. I swapped the blunt for her glass and puffed away on it. I wasn’t an R&B type of guy, but I did know the hits, and Savannah seemed to have everyone playing back to back. By the time Aaron Hall and Guy were halfway finished with singing “Piece of My Love,” I was on my knees, sleeves rolled to my elbows, washing Savannah’s body with her rag. I started at her neck, then made my way slowly down to her breasts. I encircled each one with the rag, making sure to lift them to clean the crease that hid under them. I lingered around her nipples and softly touched them both with the outside of my index finger. Her nipples responded to me by standing erect.
“Dre...”
I shushed her before she continued and motioned for her to listen to the music flowing through the speakers. I didn’t know the song or the identity of the singer, but the beat was soft, and the words went perfectly with the mood I was in. I wanted to make love, and that’s what the male singer kept reciting. I rushed my way down her stomach, then released the rag to squeeze my hand in between her legs. She tightened her thighs to prevent me from entering. I didn’t like being rejected, but I accepted it and moved my hand down her leg to her foot. From right foot to the left, I messaged her feet until I noticed she had closed her eyes. I crawled back up her leg with my index and middle finger and tried to get between her thighs again. This time, they opened. I rubbed her clit for a little over a minute, then used my fingers to clean her opening and about three inches inside of her.
She purred my name and said, “I’m ready for you to get me out of this tub.”
I grabbed her black beach-sized towel off the toilet, then picked her up and carried her to our bed. Once her body was dried and oiled, it was on. I was hungry, and it was time to feast. I made a meal out of her without resting my tongue until my hunger was satisfied. I made sure that every drop of her juices was caught in my mouth. The bed wouldn’t get a taste. Since her legs were already on my shoulders, all I had to do was bend them back a little farther to slide in, and that’s exactly what I did.
I dug deep with my first few strokes. Then I moved in and out of her like I was playing a violin, slow yet meaningful. Savannah had her eyes closed and was moaning softly. That meant I was hitting her wrong. I intended to make love to her, but I was doing it as if I were apologizing or making up for my wrongdoings. I hadn’t done shit to her. I picked up my pace, and her eyes flew open. Then I beat it. For over an hour, I hit her like a drum being pounded with the palm of a hand.
“Dre!” Savannah screamed out breathlessly, still looking me in the eyes. “Did you pop a pill?”
I hadn’t popped a pill, and she ain’t never known me to pop one either. I was putting in overtime because I wanted to show my gratitude for her putting me first and to remind her whose pussy it was. I couldn’t tell her she was being rewarded, so I blew off her questioning and quieted her up by covering her mouth with my hand and whispering, “Shut up.”
She tried to move to make the beating easier on herself, but I didn’t let her. “Bring yo’ ass back over here. I ain’t done.”
I didn’t want to hear her voice unless it was in moans and screams. So, what if this was her award ceremony? I hadn’t forgotten that her creeping is what caused the shit in the first place. I flipped her over onto her stomach and pushed her legs up under her body until her thighs rested underneath her breasts. Changing the position was the only sympathy I was willing to show her. Now her butt was in the air like two mountains, and I planned on beating them down until they became hills. I know she was wondering what caused the change from sensual to a beast, but I knew the beast in me was what Savannah really liked. With my left hand, I snatched up both of her wrists like a handcuff and said, “Go ahead and bite that pillow, baby. Daddy gon’ give you what you want.”
She did as she was told with no questions asked, and I kept my word by forcefully inserting myself in and out of her like a Q-tip in an ear, twisting every time I got ready to pull out of her. I never completely removed myself from her warmth. I just pulled out far enough to cause her anxiety over my next deep dive. As she moaned her painful pleasures into the pillow, including my name, the urge to dig deeper came over me. I was in full beast mode and wanted to know how much she could really take without all of that fake moaning shit women trained themselves to do. She could save all of that “you’re too deep shit” for another sucker. Savannah was far from virginity days, and I wasn’t going to let her put on an act. Some women get in the bed and put on an Academy Award–winning show. Most of the shit they say and do in bed is rehearsed. It’s Hollywood acting at its best. They’ve either practiced with the niggas before you, or they’ve summed up what to expect from you in the first few minutes of sex. Then they act accordingly. I wasn’t about to let Savannah pull that shit on me.
Women have gotten too good at faking it. They can have a dick in them but be mentally fucking themselves. I call it mind over matter because it doesn’t matter what you are working with as long as she can use her mind to imagine it’s something better. She’ll have you thinking you’re putting in work, and the whole time, she’s counting down for you to nut and get the fuck off of her.
Bitches used to have me feeling like I was King Dick before I caught on to them. Every time I heard them moan, “It’s too big, Daddy,” “You’re in my guts, Dre!” or whatever other sounds they wanted to make to let me know I was causing damage, they had me feeling like a boss. I almost put a caution sign on my boxers. Then I realized the timing was off. I’d be about to stroke, and she’d be moaning and screaming before I even reached midstroke. Get the fuck out of here with that shit. I don’t need an ego boost. I need a good nut. Since then, I’m in and out of it like a drive-through. If she enjoys me, cool. If not, fuck it. She just better hope that she gets hers before I get mine.
I didn’t have to worry about all that acting with Savannah, though. I knew she loved my plumbing by what she didn’t say in bed, but today, she decided to be as loud as she could. I thought it was acting for a minute, but I was wrong. I had tapped into something Savannah just couldn’t handle. The deeper I went, the less she used the pillow. What once sounded like a bunch of undecipherable, smothered words now sounded like, “Aww, shit, Dre. You’re in too deep.”
Savannah voicing her limits didn’t mean shit to me. I was ready to make new limits with her. The more she complained, the deeper I went. If I were really causing her pain, I wasn’t about to stop. She deserved to feel some type of pain from me after all the shit she’d been doing. I was beginning to enjoy her yells even more. Savannah attempted to free herself from me again by crawling away, but I was stuck to her. When she climbed up the headboard, I was right there with her, constantly stroking. She was stupid if she thought I was going to stop. My stroke took no breaks even as our location moved, nor did my yearning to go deeper fade away.
“Where are you going, baby? You know you can’t run from me. Take this dick. It’s yours.”
I whispered my words in her ear again,