By Tiwa Says
I have come to the painful realisation that whatever has a beginning will definitely have an end. Even life is not forever. It is not a very comforting realisation but it is a fact.
Which is why it is always advised to live life to the fullest. You never know when the opportunity will be taken from you.
I recently got a job offer. It was one I had been hoping and praying for. It came with some pecks, which included an apartment and a car.
I had to resume almost immediately. So there was very little time to pack and move to the new place.
Interestingly, Rotimi and I had been having issues and we just decided it was better to go our separate ways. So this new job is somewhat of a fresh beginning for me.
Still Rotimi chose to come and help with packing so we could talk. I really didn’t think there was anything left to talk about but I obliged him.
I knelt on the carpet of my soon-to-be-vacant apartment, taping shut another box. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows over stacks of belongings that represented a life I was dismantling piece by piece.
My relationship with Rotimi had crumbled under the weight of mistrust and unspoken resentments. But here he was, sleeves rolled up on his button-down shirt, sweat beading on his forehead as he hauled a heavy lamp toward the door.
“Why did it have to end like this?” I asked, my voice soft but edged with the ache that had lingered since our last fight. I straightened up, wiping my hands on my jeans, watching as Rotimi paused, setting the lamp down with a thud.
He turned to me, his dark eyes meeting mine, the familiar intensity sparking something deep in my chest. “We both know why. The assumptions and trust issues on both sides. But damn, Eve, I never stopped wanting you.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with regret and unresolved heat.
I stepped closer, the space between us shrinking as memories flooded back: The nights we’d tangled in sheets, bodies slick and urgent. “Me neither,” I admitted, my hand brushing his arm. The touch ignited a spark, and before I could pull away, Rotimi’s fingers caught my wrist, pulling me into him.
We kissed, a desperate kiss that tasted of goodbye and what-ifs. My hands fisted in his shirt, yanking it open to expose his broad chest. I traced the lines of muscle, my nails scraping lightly as his mouth moved to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
Rotimi groaned against my skin, his hands sliding under my tank top, cupping my breasts and thumbing my nipples until they hardened.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured, lifting the fabric away and bending to take one nipple between his teeth, biting gently while his tongue swirled.
I arched into him, a moan escaping as heat pooled between my thighs. I shoved at his shoulders, guiding him back until his ass hit the edge of the couch. My fingers worked his belt loose, zipper down, and I palmed his hard cock through his boxers, feeling it twitch under my touch.
He kicked off his shoes. His pants pooled at his ankles as I tugged the boxers free. His cock sprang out, hard and veined, the head already glistening. I wrapped my hand around the base, stroking firmly from root to tip, watching his face contort with pleasure.
I pushed him fully onto the couch. Straddling his lap, I ground my pussy against his length, the friction sending jolts through my core. His hands gripped my hips, urging me to rock harder, faster.
Impatient, I positioned his cock at my entrance, slick with my arousal. One slow descent, and he filled me completely.
Rotimi thrust up to meet me, hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks as I rode him. “So tight, baby,” he growled, pounding into me with each bounce. My breasts jiggled with the rhythm, my clit grinding against his pubic bone, building that sweet pressure.
I came first, clenching around him like a vice, my cry echoing off the bare walls as waves of pleasure crashed through me. Rotimi didn’t stop, flipping me onto my back on the couch, hooking my legs over his shoulders. He drove in deep, balls slapping against me with every snap of his hips.
“Tell me you love this dick,” he demanded, sweat dripping from his brow onto my stomach.
“Yes—god, yes,” I panted, nails digging into his back. My second orgasm built fast, coiling tight until it shattered me, pussy pulsing and milking him.
Rotimi kept thrusting till, all of a sudden he stiffened and emptied himself. He collapsed beside me, both of us breathing ragged, the boxes forgotten in the haze.
But the heat lingered. As we caught our breath, my hand trailed down, toying with his now flaccid dick. Rotimi’s cock stirred again, already half-hard. “Round two?” he asked, voice husky.
I nodded, pulling him toward the bedroom where half-packed suitcases waited. We weren’t done unpacking our desires yet.
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