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September 18 - September 19, 2025
Declan and Diesel were twins, with Diesel being the oldest by ten minutes. After them was Demetria, Denim and then me.
“Well, Mr. Dymon, if that is the definition of an executive assistant, then that number on the offer sheet I signed yesterday needs to double, and I need a work phone too because I refuse to have you ordering me around on my personal phone. I will turn that phone off with the quickness, and you will instantly disappear. Poof.”
“I like her. She had your ass speechless. Read your ass like a book. And you ain’t do shit but look goofy.”
There was really no reason for me to be this goofy for a chick I’ve only known for a week. Her family down in that country town must be practicing witchcraft in the back of those B&B’s because I was truly disgusted at myself.
“Don’t you ever in your fucking life tell a nigga you sorry for turning him down. Do you understand me?”
“Okay. Oh, and, Mr. Dymon...” He looked at me. “Don’t ever let a bitch disrespect me again.”
“I love you, Quinci,” he whispered in my ear. There it was. He didn’t say, Princess, I love you. He said, Quinci. “I love you, Quinci.” That was real. That was outside of the expectations that he’d set…we’d both set. Those words were the reason that I’d cried while he made love to me. Those words were the reason I let him work himself in my asshole. Anal sex while high, tipsy, and emotionally high was the best journey I could’ve ever taken my body on. When he was done filling my ass with his cum, he said, “Please, don’t leave me.”
“To show our babies, once they grown, how crazy I had their mom looking after dropping dick in her.”
Can I have a little privacy while I wipe myself, please?” He looked at me, turning his nose up. “Girl, I put my nose in your pussy. Please, but I’ll leave.”
“Well, since we are going to be living in New York, I might have to apologize to…” She sighed in annoyance. “I’m going to have to apologize to Cruella De Vil and Scar for disrespecting them in their home.”