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  • Writer's pictureCici.B


I woke up with my face buried in the pillow. I could smell him.

I thought I was trippin’. Maybe I just had way too much to drink the night before.

I lifted my head and focused my eyes. I was in his room, in his bed.

No. No. No. This can’t be right.

I looked under the sheets and saw my naked body. Reality set in deeper as I slowly turned to my left. There beside me was Kordell, laying shirtless on his stomach with the sheets resting a tad below his boxers. His beautifully smooth, dark chocolate skin called out to me.

I loved the way skin felt against mine. I missed the way his body felt against mine.

I almost reached my hand out to glide my fingertips gently over him like I used to do whenever I awoke before him, but then quickly remembered that he and I were over. Well, we were supposed to be over.

Sonofabitch! I cursed in my mind.

“What’s wrong?” He muttered, as if he had heard my thoughts.

I didn’t really know what to say. I was confused and wanted to kick my own ass for being back in his damn bed, naked.

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

I sat up with my back toward him and rested my feet on the floor, then closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. Slowly, images of the night before began spilling into the front of my brain.

The club.



Fucking tequila shots.


The lights.

My car.

His apartment door.

His kiss.

Oh my God, his kiss.

Me on top of him.

Him on top of me…

I heard him chuckle and my flashbacks stopped.

“You okay over there, B?”

I wanted to slap the shit out of him, really.

I opened my eyes and saw my stockings on the floor over by his dresser, then caught a hint of my skirt peeking out from under the bed.

I shook my head, “Why am I heeeeere?”

Again, he chuckled.

Why does he think this is funny? This isn't funny!

I hated him.

I closed my eyes again and more flashbacks invaded my mind.

His hands all over me.

My hands all over him.

Shit, it was my birthday and I’d gotten drunk; that’s how this happened.

I hadn’t had sex since I’d left him—four months to be exact. Though my body had craved him every single night during those four months, I stayed strong and stood my ground.

But of course, he would just so happen to end up at the same club I was at for my birthday while tequila was busy working its way through my system.

Fuck my life.

"B. Are. You. Okay?" He asked again.

No, asshole. I'm not okay. I'M IN YOUR BED, NAKED, ONCE AGAIN.

"I'm fine. I have a headache, need some Gatorade and an Aspirin, but I'm fine."

I really didn't want to look at him because obviously I didn't hate him.

I still loved him, but I was pissed at myself because for those past four-fucking-months I’d been training myself to UN-love him…and then there my naked ass was smelling like sex…our sex. Ugh!

He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. As soon as I heard him close the door, I began darting around his bedroom like a frantic bat out of hell, searching for the rest of my clothes. Every time I found an article of clothing I sighed and shook my head. I pulled on my stockings and skirt, then realized I had no panties on. Did I even wear panties last night?

I kneeled down and searched under his bed while talking to myself aloud, “Oh, look! There’s my fucking bra. Good job, B. Just perfect.” As I reached for it, back into the room he came.

"Can you relax, please?" He asked in his stupid, calm, deep and sexy voice that I loved so much that I HATED. I yanked my bra out from under his bed, stood up—dressed only from my belly button down—and looked at him. I was fucking frazzled. I swiped my long black hair out of my face, and sighed heavily, "I want you to know that we are NOT falling back into our US routine, so just...I don't know how or why I'm back here, but we... THIS..." I pointed at him, then myself, then at his bed, "This is not, and I mean not happening again. I relapsed. That's it. That's all. The End.”

Kordell stared at me, completely unmoved. He still had no shirt on, and his chest that I loved so much was distracting me.

Jesus, I need to get the fuck outta here fucking ASAP.

"B, can you seriously just relax, please? It was your birthday. We hadn't seen each other in a while. I was drinking, you were drinking, and we had sex. Nothing for you to freak out over."

The sound of my phone ringing tuned me back into reality, the reality being that I was still standing in the middle of his bedroom with my tits in the air, my bra in my hand, and my shirt nowhere to be found…


What you just read is actually an excerpt from a book of mine called, Spilled Words: The Crimson Kiss Quote Collection. If you would like to read the rest (which, duh you do! lol) click here to grab it.

Much love,


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