“Psychologie (confession sur l’oreiller, sept)”

“But he can’t even be consistent.”

“Don’t trip, babe – here we are now – together,” she lay on Jiffy’s chest and traced a nipple with a finger, at first, and then her mouth.

“That’s why I don’t care about taking the kids to see him; he should be coming here, but he’s a loser and thinks I owe him something,” she mounted Jiffy and he moved a little bit to make himself more comfortable, and her hips opened, her buttocks jiggled, one at a time, then both at once.

“You said he’s where?”

“Nowhere near here, baby – hush,” her finger pressed against his lips as she leaned into him. Jiffy wrapped her up at the small of her back. “This is yours. He could never make my body do what you make it do,” she lied through deep breaths and moans. Jiffy took a fistful of hair, exposing her neck and sucking on it as a teenager would. Meechi hated hickeys, she always told Jamal; but Jiffy had his way with her whenever he wanted; however he wanted.

“Well, me and my guys are going to make a visit. It’ll be quick. He won’t even know what hit him.

Jamal lifted his face to find Meechi looking at him – a face of shock – she covered her mouth to muffle her scream and with the other hand, pushed his head back down.