Succulent (Chocolate Flava 2)

Shantrice beamed. Devon glowered. He ran his hand over the waves in his hair. Devon did not like to be discredited or have someone show him up.

“Mr. Devon, maybe you should study a little harder or come to class when you really want to be here.”

Devon sighed audibly. He heard snickers and giggles from the back of the classroom.

The class ended a short time later. Devon stalked out of the classroom, determined to get away from the embarrassment. He hurried and shoved his books into his bag.

The movement of the students startled Shantrice. She looked around for Devon. He was angry, she could tell; over what though, she did not know. That’s not good, Shantrice thought to herself.

Shantrice had harbored a crush on Devon since she had first laid eyes on him. That first time being when she had seen him enter Dr. Green’s English 101 class ten minutes late, standing in the doorway looking around.

The latecomer was dressed in a white Dallas Mavericks jersey, black jeans shorts, and white K-Swiss sneakers. All the seats were taken, except for the one next to her. For almost an hour, she had to sit in class inhaling his cologne, becoming more intoxicated with his scent. When he spoke, his gruff voice sounded beautiful to her. Shantrice was so preoccupied that she didn’t hear the professor at all during that first class period. Her panties threatened to be overwhelmed. They exchanged smiles throughout the hour. However, when class ended, Devon exited into the waiting arms of some light-skinned cutie. Shantrice surveyed the girl as she walked past. The girl was undeniably beautiful, dressed in a baby blue halter top emblazoned with the UNC logo across the front, a cream-colored miniskirt, and baby blue heels. Her long, curly hair was pulled into a ponytail that flowed down her back. To Shantrice, the girl looked as if she had just stepped out of a music video. Shantrice went back to her dorm room that day and eased her urging with her eight-inch, black dildo. Devon’s face, smile, and scent crept into her imagination, spurring her to satisfaction.

Sitting right next to Devon all semester was a torment. He began to appear in her dreams, romancing her, but ultimately leaving her for the nameless beauty in the Tarheels outfit.

Shantrice broke from the daydream, wondering how many times she would let him pass her by. How many times would she wonder what it would be like to have his hands roaming all over her body or to kiss him deeply on his full lips. She fixed her bra, propping up her already ample cleavage and raising her skirt slightly. Shantrice strode from the classroom, intent on her mission to find Devon. She stalked down the hallway purposefully, ignoring the looks from other men and their cat-calls and whispers.

Devon stormed out of the building. He was pissed about class, not just the smart-aleck teacher, but also Shantrice.

“What the hell was her problem?” Devon muttered to himself.

Devon thought back to the first class he had had with Shantrice—English 101. He had searched for a seat and eventually sat down beside the cocoa-brown-skinned female. While not on the scale of Narissa, Shantrice was nonetheless pretty. Narissa had been his girl for more than a year. Shantrice smiled at him invitingly as he walked over to sit down. Throughout the period, Devon noticed Shantrice continually fixing her breasts, causing them to sit up more prominently in her peach-colored, button-down blouse. The twin cocoa-brown mounds of flesh looked tantalizing. Devon’s dick sprang to life in response. He began shifting in the chair, trying to hide his growing erection. One time Devon spied Shantrice staring at him longingly. She blushed and turned away.

Devon stifled a laugh. He peered at her again. She was shapely, not model material like Narissa. This girl was more “down-home” thick in all the right places. If he didn’t have Narissa, he would holla at her. Right after class, Devon got formally introduced to his pretty “neighbor” as she spoke softly. Devon found out her name was Shantrice; she was from Philly and lived on campus. They exchanged numbers before they exited class. Much to his chagrin, Narissa was waiting for him outside. As he embraced Narissa, he watched Shantrice walk down the hallway, giving the couple a glance before stepping into the elevator.

Devon now headed into the library. Right then he needed someplace to cool down. The library was somewhat empty. He looked around, searching for a secluded, unoccupied study booth. He finally found one, back near the encyclopedias.

Devon had been moving fast, making it difficult to keep up with him. Shantrice did her best by catching fleeting glimpses of his khaki, one-shouldered bag. She watched him enter the library. She trailed him inside and saw him take a seat at a solitary study booth.

Shantrice stopped right inside the double glass doors of the library. She wondered if she could go through with what she was planning. Her nerves were all jumbled. However, her hormones were working her into a fever pitch. She steadied herself, then glided over to the booth. Devon was completely unaware of her. Shantrice stood back and marveled at him.

“You are so sexy when you’re mad,” Shantrice breathed into his ear.

Devon moved slightly. He leaned back, his head coming to rest in Shantrice’s ample bust. He looked up at her.

“You tried to show me up,” he shot at her.

“No, I tried to help you out.”

“If you would have let me handle it, I would have came at him with something intelligent,” he gruffed.

“Next time I will,” Shantrice shot back. She looked at him incredulously. Arrogant bastard, she thought to herself. Even like this he’s still sexy.

Devon’s head was still resting on her chest. The scent of his cologne was overpowering. It silently urged her into action. Shantrice laid her hand on the side of Devon’s head, slowly massaging his ear.

Devon shifted slightly. He wanted to be angry, but her hand on his head was making it difficult. His ears were sensitive and she was massaging one. Her touch was magical. It was as if she knew exactly where to touch and how much pressure to apply.

Shantrice stood on rubbery legs. The skin-to-skin contact with Devon was powerful. His head resting against her breasts was causing her nipples to harden. Her other hand snaked down to his shoulder.

“You know, I’ve waited a long time to have you like this,” she breathed.

“You have?”

“Yeah, but you’ve always had someone else,” Shantrice whispered in his ear, her lips grazing the tip.

Devon’s hand found her leg and slowly slid up her thigh. He wanted to test her. Let’s see how far she’ll let me go, he tho

ught.