Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2

“Because I wanted to. It’s just something to put a smile on your face, that’s all. And I know if Mateo were here he’d be showering you with gifts left and right. Let me do this for my man,” he said with the warmest smile.

Everything was genuine about him, and Chanel loved that. Mecca was a lucky woman.

Pyro got up from the table and went into the next room. He soon came back into the kitchen carrying a perfectly wrapped gift for her.

“Here you go.”

Chanel was smiling and couldn’t wait to see what he got her. She started to tear away the wrapping paper like a kid on Christmas Day, anxious to see her gift. It was a cookbook by Chrissy Teigen.

“I love it, Pyro. Thank you. I’m definitely gonna use it. Maybe I’ll cook something for us tomorrow,” she said.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind that. Your cooking is the best.”

She chuckled at his compliment. Their evening together consisted of playing backgammon, sipping more champagne, joking and laughing, and then sharing stories about family, love, and their future. And then it happened—the lingering stare and the champagne blurring their boundaries. He leaned intimately close to her and pressed his lips against hers. She didn’t resist, and the two of them shared a passionate kiss.

They both pulled away, knowing it was wrong, though it felt so right. They looked stunned by what just happened—no words for a moment, only silence between them with their eyes speaking volumes. It was a mistake.

He spoke first, saying, “I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s my fault.”

“No. I shouldn’t have tried to take advantage of you,” he said.

“Pyro, I’m fine. It was just a kiss. It’s not the end of the world.”

He stood up and removed himself from the volatile situation he had put himself into without saying another word, going into his bedroom and heading straight for his shower. She did the same.

While showering, Chanel couldn’t help but to think about the kiss. It was nice, though it was short. Pyro was a good kisser, but she hated that she was even thinking about how well he kissed. Chanel didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she felt like she had let three people down; Mateo, Mecca, and herself. After showering, she donned a T-shirt and crawled into her bed, and instead of closing and locking her door like usual she left it ajar—just in case he wanted to talk. She placed her head against her pillow and tried to get some sleep. But she couldn’t. The only thing on her mind was kissing Pyro.

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Pyro couldn’t sleep either. He was up thinking about Chanel and their shared kiss. He wrestled with an unnerving thought. It stuck to him. It kept him up. And after an hour of trying to resist what he felt was inevitable, he got up from his bed and headed toward Chanel’s room. Seeing her door ajar, he tapped on it and then slowly made his way inside.

“Hey, are you still up?” he whispered to her.

“Yeah,” she faintly replied.

He crawled into her bed and moved close to her with no resistance. They stared at each other briefly, neither one saying a word as he abruptly disappeared underneath the covers, maneuvering his frame between her legs. She was wet, and so hot, and he burned to sample her nectar. Poised between her thighs, he lifted her bottom off the bed and hitched her legs over his shoulders so her pussy was directly in front of his mouth. He dipped his tongue inside of her and sucked and licked her sweet spot while she squirmed in his grasp.

Chanel knew it was wrong, but it felt so good. Sh

e was tired of having her only memory of sex be of her rape. She moaned and continued to squirm as Pyro swirled his tongue around inside of her and softly rubbed her clit with his thumb.

“Ooooh . . . uhh . . . ahhh . . .” she moaned.

The moans that were escaping from her full lips turned him on. He wanted to make her come. He wanted to feel her sweet juices gushing against his mouth.

Chanel panted and clutched the sheets as Pyro ate her out passionately. She closed her eyes and tried to fight the guilt, but it was a losing battle. Everything inside of her screamed, “You need this. Your body needs this.”

After giving her ten minutes of oral pleasure, Pyro moved up from between her thighs and readied himself into the missionary position. Without a condom, he slowly penetrated her. He slowly made love to her and he was gentle, his strokes caring but masterful at the same time.

Chanel moaned against his ear. “Ohhhh. . .”

Right before she was about to come, he stared intensely at her and told her to open her eyes and look at him. She did so. The transfer of energy that passed between them was undeniable.

“Pyro,” she moaned his name.

Soon, she had multiple orgasms. It was mind-blowing for her. Her body quivered in places she didn’t know she had. She was breathless and spent, and Pyro held her tightly as they both fell asleep nestled against each other. Chanel didn’t want to be let go. She wanted Pyro to hold her all night. It was a blissful moment for them both. The guilt they had both felt earlier was a distant memory.

When Chanel woke up the following morning, Pyro was gone, leaving her to face their situation alone. The feeling of ecstasy was replaced with a feeling of betrayal.