Addicted 2 Moni

For Keeps

Dewayne Pov

You already know I had to dive into some of that good good the minute I got home. Soon as we stepped out the shower, she started round two on the bed—her freaky ass couldn't even wait. I didn't mind. Not one bit. The way she wrapped her legs around me, kissed on my chest, looked up at me with those eyes? Man, I felt that shit in my soul.

Now, she's laid out next to me, sleep like a baby. Her long curly hair sprawled out over my pillow like some kind of goddess. Her back's bare, glowing under the dim lamp light, soft breaths slipping through her lips like music. Her scent still clings to me—sweet pea and lavender mixed with sex and her natural essence. I ain't gon lie... being deep inside her after all those days away? That shit hit different. She feel like home. Warm. Safe. Mine.

It's wild, the way she fulfills every part of me. I never thought I'd be so damn content. I'm used to that fast life—one night stands, women I couldn't even remember the names of, but Moni? She got me rethinking it all. I still battle temptation sometimes. I mean, I ain't blind—bad women everywhere, throwing it at me. But Harmony got this grip on me, emotionally and physically, that makes all the noise outside quiet.

Still, I ain't stupid. She ain't the freaky, wild-type. I can tell. That little text Asia sent me though...

💕Asia: I want you 😘
Me: I got a girl. A nigga tryna stay tied down.
💕Asia: I want her too.

I smirk at the message. Asia bold as hell. That kinda offer would've had the old me plotting already. But this new me? The one wrapped around Moni's fingers? Yeah, I don't think she'd be down for all that. And I wouldn't want to pressure her into something she ain't ready for. Sex with her alone is already on some spiritual shit.

I toss my phone down and look over at her again. Been almost four months with this girl—four official weeks away from that marker. Yeah, I been counting. It's serious. We need to celebrate... dinner, something lowkey and just us. She shifts in her sleep, moaning quietly as her naked body moves closer, her leg throwing itself over mine like it belongs there. And it does. I rub her back slow, dragging my fingers down over the curve of her ass, feeling her stretch marks like little stories carved into her skin.

"I hope you know yo ass ain't going nowhere," I whisper to her, my lips brushing the crown of her head. She stirs just enough to nuzzle her face into the crook of my neck.

"Baby, where we going?" she asks, standing in my closet wrapped in a towel, her legs smooth and glistening from lotion, eyes scanning the racks of clothes. We been slowly merging our lives—her stuff mixed in with mine, toothbrushes side by side, drawers being shared. Shit's real now. Grown.

Part of me still aches for Chicago though. The streets. The respect. The power. That adrenaline, not knowing if you gon make it home, but living fast and bold anyway. Being the boss, calling shots, watching fear in niggas' eyes—that's the thrill I grew up on. But I left it for a reason. I can't bring Moni into that world. She don't deserve that chaos.

"We going to lunch," I tell her, stepping behind her and letting my hand graze her hip. She smell good, like cocoa butter and honey. My towel's barely holding on, hers ain't doing much either.

"Get dressed, baby," I say, kissing her ear and smacking her ass.

"What you want me to wear?" she asks, turning around with that mischievous look in her eyes.

"Whatever you want to," I say, leaning down to kiss her again, this one slower, lips lingering.

"Okay," she replies, heading over to her section of the closet.

I grab a red sleeveless Nike muscle tank and some gray shorts, a pair of black socks and my slides. I'm halfway dressed when I glance back at her, bent over looking at sandals. Her ass looking real plump under that towel. I sneak up, pressing myself behind her.