Twisted

17: After Parte, After Parte

Beverly

After being unable to keep our hands away from each other at the party, we finally arrive at Deji's house, a luxurious duplex, beautifully nestled in an upscale estate, a thrilling thirty-minute drive from Idia's place. As usual, we'd snuck away without saying goodbye to anyone; I know I'll get grilled for it when Idia calls me tomorrow, but that one is tomorrow's problem. For now, the intoxicating excitement of the night lingers in my mind, setting my senses ablaze with desire.

The moment we step inside the elegant foyer, the ambiance of Deji's home wraps around us like a seductive embrace. Soft, dim lighting casts alluring shadows across the plush furnishings, creating an atmosphere charged with anticipation. The faint aroma of vanilla and exotic spices drifts from scented candles scattered around the room, adding to the intoxicating allure.

The passion between us reignites as we continue our heated make-out session, picking up right where we left off in the car. His hands roam freely yet assertively, greedily fondling my breasts whilst our tongues engage in a fierce battle for dominance.

Sensing my unsteady steps in my high heels, he swiftly places his hands under my butt cheeks, effortlessly lifting me, and instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist, pressing my core against the enticing bulge in his pants. It does something to me.

My mind races with possibilities as I realize his strength and imagine the uninhibited positions we could explore and how he can throw me around in the bedroom– before my thoughts can fully form, he sets me down in his dimly lit dining room and in one swift motion, he grabs the back of my neck and pushes my upper body lower, bending me over the table. 

It is unexpected but my body complies.

Now bent over the table, he raises my dress to my waist, exposing my enticing ass to his ravenous gaze, and without hesitation, I tilt my head to look at him retrieve a condom from God-knows-where and expertly tear it open before rolling it onto his average-sized, slightly curved member. Those ones have the tendencies to hit some crazy spots.

This moment is fueled strictly by alcohol and hormones, I'm not sure if what I'm doing is right but my sole hope is that he can fuck Zayyad out of my mind.

He moves my thong aside, his touch gentle as he guides himself inside me. "You okay?" He asks, ensuring my comfort.

"Yeah," I whimper in response, confirming my readiness

Now fully inside me, his hands firmly clutches onto my waist, and he begins to thrust in and out of me, my ass lightly pressing against his torso as my upper body moves forward and backward on the table, moans of pleasure escaping my lipstick-smeared lips.

The moans, interlaced with swear words and his name, reverberate through the room like an intoxicating melody, unleashing an untamed side of him. His thrusts grow faster and harder, the intensity building as he relentlessly pounds into me, the curve earlier mentioned, starts to hit a particular spot and it's giving me a pleasure that hurts.

"Fuck! Deji!" I moan loudly, my right hand instinctively reaching back to momentarily push him away, however, he seizes my wrist, firmly capturing my other hand as well, binding them together behind my back. Undeterred, he continues to fuck me, driving me to new heights of ecstasy.

The way my hands are crossed together hurts, but I'm distracted by the sweetness of him gliding in and out of my wet walls. The harder he goes, the more my core hurts, and the more it hurts... the more this strong pleasure spreads through my body. "Fuuuuuck," I cry.

"Say my name," he commands, his voice, a husky growl.

"Deji--ahh"

"I told you you would scream it one day," He says, a smirk laced in his tone.