Page 36 of Sensual Abduction


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It had only been a few days, but I was already tired of being in this house. Other than stepping out on the porch for some fresh air, we’d been inside. Even though I kept to myself most of the time in Cali, I needed to see people. It gave me a sense of normalcy.

Slim locked me in the house for far too long too many times. I went days, sometimes weeks, without human interaction outside of him and his goons. Being trapped in this house was going to trigger me.

I could feel it coming.

Night had fallen.

True to his word, Ahmad had someone deliver my hair products that afternoon. Once Kari went down for bed, I hobbled downstairs to the living room to begin taking my locs out. I grabbed a plastic bag to discard the hair and made myself comfortable on the couch. After turning on Criminal Minds, I got to work.

I completely underestimated the pain in my shoulder. I’d gotta about ten locs out before it started hurting.

“Son of a bitch,” I mumbled, rubbing it.

“You need some help?” I heard behind me.

I turned to see Ahmad dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a beater. His well-defined muscles were covered in tattoos and glistening from whatever he applied after his shower. As he sauntered over to me, my eyes drifted south to the dick print in the front of his pants.

Damn.

I quickly averted my eyes but not quick enough. He smirked as he licked his lips but didn’t comment.

“Well?” he asked.

“What do you know about taking faux locs out?”

“Not shit.”

“Exactly. You aren’t about to cut my hair.”

“Just tell me what to do, woman.”

He placed a cushion on the floor and helped me onto it. He then slid behind me and made himself comfortable. I gave him a quick run-down of what to do. He simply nodded and got to work.

Much to my surprise, he moved pretty quickly. After a good hour of silence between us, he was finished taking the locs out. Grabbing the comb, he began unbraiding my hair. I giggled to myself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I bet you don’t do this with the so-called friends you play with.”

He chuckled. “This is the first and last time. This feels too much like you’re my woman.”

“What do you have against being with someone on a romantic level?”

“Women require more than I’m capable of giving. You want dick, cool. I got plenty of that. You want love… I don’t know about that.”

“You act like you were never shown love.”

He remained quiet and his silence caused me to look back at him.

“Ahmad? Were you not shown love as a child?”

“My parents weren’t big on affection. I mean, they told us they loved us, but there were no hugs and kisses or shit like that. They passed a lot of judgment on me, so even though they said they loved me, I ain’t ever felt like that shit was real.”

I avoided his eyes. Now I felt bad about taunting him about his OCD. Emotional neglect could be serious as hell and fuck with a person’s mental. I could see that he had never been shown softness. He was too hard. Even in moments where he tried to be gentle, he still came off abrasive.

“Don’t do that,” he said, breaking my thoughts.

“Don’t do what?”

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