The Promise They Broke

Marcus had made Jordan promise because Marcus had seen it before either of them admitted it. The way Jordan looked away too quickly when Amara laughed. The way the air changed when Marcus left the two of them alone in a room.

Eight months after the funeral, Jordan still came over with food and wine like it was routine. Marcus’s framed photo stayed on the bookshelf, angled toward the couch like he was still watching.

Tonight, Jordan barely touched his food.

“I still think about what he made me promise,” he said, staring at the photo instead of her.

Amara didn’t answer. She stood up, walked over, and climbed into his lap. Jordan had kept his promise for eight months. Amara broke it for him in eight seconds.

She grabbed his face and kissed him hard.

Jordan’s hands went straight to her waist. He yanked her bra down and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth while she ground down on the thick bulge in his pants. When she reached between them and squeezed his dick, he groaned against her skin.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

Amara grabbed his jaw. “Eat my pussy.”

Jordan flipped her onto her back and dragged her leggings and panties off. He spread her open and buried his face between her legs, licking her deep before sucking hard on her clit. He ate her like he was trying to punish himself for wanting it. Every time she moaned, he got messier with it.

He eventually pulled back, breathing hard, and glanced at the photo on the bookshelf one more time before shoving his pants down. His cock was thick and heavy as he stroked it once and lined up.

He pushed inside her slow.

“Fuck…” Amara breathed.

Jordan started fucking her with deep, steady strokes, but his eyes kept drifting back to the photo. Midway through, he slowed down. His face tightened.

“Amara…” His voice was strained. “We shouldn’t—”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

Jordan cursed and started fucking her harder. He flipped her over, yanked her hips up, and slammed back inside her from behind.

“This pussy feel too good,” he growled. “Marcus would fucking hate this.”

Amara moaned into the cushion. “Then why you still fucking me?”

Jordan reached around and rubbed her clit while he pounded into her. “Because I’m a piece of shit. And you’re letting me be one.”

He pulled out and sat back on the couch, pulling her on top of him. Amara sank down on his cock and started riding him hard. Jordan sucked on her tits while she bounced, one hand gripping her ass, the other in her hair.

“Ride that dick,” he groaned. “Show me how bad you wanted this.”

Amara rode him faster. When she came, she clenched so tight around him that Jordan grabbed her hips and fucked up into her until he came too, groaning as he filled her up.

They stayed locked together, breathing hard. His cum was already leaking out of her.

His phone lit up on the coffee table.

Marcus’s Mom.

The text preview glowed in the dark:

Jordan, don’t forget you’re bringing Amara to the family dinner next month. She shouldn’t have to do the anniversary alone.

Marcus’s family still trusted Jordan to take care of her.

Neither of them moved.

Amara could feel his cum still slowly dripping out of her. Jordan’s arms were still around her waist. Marcus’s photo sat on the bookshelf, watching both of them.

Jordan exhaled against her shoulder.

“We just made everything worse.”

Amara stared at the glowing phone, feeling his cum leaking out of her while Marcus’s picture stayed perfectly in place.

She was sorry.

Just not enough to stop.

Not tonight.

Not at the dinner.

Maybe not ever.