Looking for a therapist is harder than I thought. I checked out Psychology Today, as Bryan suggested. Even the Therapy for Black Girls site. But once I took a look at the prices, I gave up. I swear they just kept on increasing. Consider me cheap like my father, but I already have rent, car notes and car insurance, tuition fees, and credit cards to keep up with. Not forgetting my entertainment subscriptions: Netflix, HBO, Amazon...The list goes on. I've been feeling much better these past few days, anyway, so I think I'll put the therapist hunting on a pause.
"Drew we have to go find something to wear," I whine.
"Come on just four more— four more," he pleads.
"Four more?!" I exclaim. We're up in his room, playing Guess the Food and we're about a week away from the Gala. Today's the only day I'm free, but with this blindfold on, and his boyish insistence to try and beat me at this game, we won't be leaving anytime soon.
"Come on, Lai. I already got them all laid out."
"...Fine," I say. "Four more, then that's it. We're leaving."
"Aight, open up," he says.
"Ahhh," I vocalize, opening my mouth. He pours some type of liquor into my mouth which I try to savor the best I can before it goes away. I feel the bed dip as he scoots closer to me. "What are you doing?" I ask, turning blindly in his direction.
"Dark or light?" He asks. His lips are at my ear, gently nipping.
"Drew," I laugh, pushing at him aimlessly. "How do you expect me to focus?!"
"That's the thing, I don't want you to," he says, chuckling.
"Oh, I see what you're trying to do." I smile cheekily. "You're trying to even the scores."
"So what if I am," he says. "What's your answer?"
"Dark," I respond.
"Damn, you're good," he mutters.
I giggle, biting down on my lip. We've been at it for at least fifteen minutes.
"Layout your tongue," he says.
"...You're so dirty," I tease, doing as he says. He sprinkles a grainy substance. It's sweet, almost melts in my mouth; and so I swipe it across my upper lip, slowly, erotically, before retracting it; just to get a rise out of him.
"...Don't play with me, Lai."
"All you ever do is play with me, Drew." I give a small smirk.
He groans, shifting beside me. "...Brown or white sugar?" He asks.
"...Brown," I answer confidently.
"Come on, Lai. You're killin' me here. Get one wrong-- for me," he pleads.
"I don't think so," I say laughingly.
"Lemon or lime?" He persists with the next.
"Key Lime," I say.
"Aight now you showin' off," he says.
"You've got one more chance," I sing-song. "Use it wisely."
"Oh 'aight," he says. "I hear you." He's breaths away from me now; I can feel him. "You ready?" He asks, his voice low and thick.
"...Yes," I mutter.
I feel him before anything else. His hands cupping my chin... his thumb tracing the line of my lips, peeling it back sensually. His free hand trails up my bare inner thigh, massaging it gently, with purpose, with seduction, just brushing against my entrance.
YOU ARE READING
Benevolence
Romance"A part of me has always wanted to be punished, to experience pain at its highest degree, and to be ripped apart in every way possible for surviving the crash. But I was stupid for not knowing the extent of that wish; for not knowing that pain isn't...
