CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Silly of me…silly of you…gotta muhf*cka all up in my space… talkin’ ’bout he wanna change…bitch knows what she gotta do…but still lettin’ da nigga hit da drawz…ain’t tryna catch feelin’s though…nigga don’t know…f*ck me ova…bitch’ll blow off ya muthaf*ckin’ ballz…
This nigga Alex and me are layin’ in bed; both starin’ up at the ceilin’ sweaty and breathin’ heavy, passin’ a blunt ’n back forth. We’ve been kinda in this zone for almost thirty minutes or so. I told myself I wasn’t gonna f*ck ’im again, but I haven’t been able to keep the muhf*cka outta my dome, so when he showed up here lookin’ ’n smellin’ all good, a bitch decided to f*ck ’im, again—this time for the last time.
You can’t get all caught up in this nigga, Kat.
Trust, I’m not. I already know what it is.
Bitch, it ain’t like you gotta line of dick beatin’ down ya door or p-ssy.
Meshell Ndegeocello’s playin’. I turn my head toward the nightstand, glance at the clock. This nigga’s been here laid up in my bed for over four hours, and we’ve f*cked at least six different times. I can’t front. A bitch’s well-f*cked.
I can’t lie. Lyin’ here wit’ this muhf*cka feels…different. He’s the first nigga since Grant who I’ve actually chilled wit’. But I ain’t dumb wit’ it. I already know what it is. I’m usin’ the nigga, and I’m sure the nigga’s usin’ me. I take another pull from the blunt, then pass it back to ’im. I shift my body to face ’im. Take in his smooth, chiseled body, gaze at his dark nipples, then allow my eyes to travel down to the ripples of muscle that become his stomach. “This nigga’s trouble,” I keep tellin’ myself. “You have no business f*ckin’ wit’ his ass.”
But e’ery bitch needs a bad boy rockin’ ’er bed e’ery now ’n then.
Bitch, f*ck this nigga…get yours, and go!
You said you already know what it is, so what da f*ck you pressin’ it for. Keep it cute, ho…f*ck ’n go!
And while ya at it…you might as well taste da nigga’s dick; spin da muhf*ckas top. Let ’im know how a real bitch does it!
Meshell’s “Loyalty” starts playin’. I close my eyes. Slowly bob my head to the lyrics…. Told her daughter to beware…both secrets and dreams you should never share…
“Yo,” he says, disruptin’ my private moment, “what you over there thinkin’ ’bout?” He hands me the blunt.
I take it, hit it hard; hold the shit in my lungs, then blow out a gush of smoke. I turn to look at ’im. “I’m tryna decide,” I tell ’im, raisin’ up and takin’ his dick in my hand, “if a bitch wanna suck down on this black dick, or not.”
He grins. “Oh word? That’s wassup. I was wonderin’ when you were gonna bless a nigga wit’ some’a that headwork.”
I smirk. “You ain’t ready for me,” I tease.
He laughs. “Yeah, aiight. Try me.”
My eyes hungrily rove e’ery inch of this nigga’s sculpted body again. My mouth waters. This nigga has a bitch’s inside still shakin’. My p-ssy aches, still wet from all the f*ckin’ we did. Still I wanna f*ck ’im sum more, before I toss his ass out.
Bitch, you need’a dead this shit. You’d end up killin’ a muhf*cka like this!
I scoot down some, then take ’his soft dick in my hand and gently stroke it, placin’ gentle kisses all over it. I glance up at ’im. He’s starin’ down at me all hazy-eyed ’n shit. His dick starts to thicken.
“What, you wanna bitch to tell you how much she loves this strong, black dick?” I lick it.
“Yeah, baby…you love this dick?”
I don’t answer. “You wanna bitch to tell you how she loves the way this big black dick tastes; the way it feels in a bitch’s hands ’n throat?” I twirl my tongue ’round the head, flickin’ my tongue ova it. It starts to stretch and thicken.
He moans, pulls in his bottom lips. “Yeah, baby…”
I lick the head, again, like an ice cream cone; along the shaft, ’round the sides, then ova the top. “Give me sum’a that sticky dick juice, muhf*cka…you wanna nut in a bitch’s mouth?”
“Yeah, baby…suck Daddy’s long, black dick…you know you been wantin’ this big dick…why you been frontin’ on me, ma… aaah shiiiit…”
I ignore the nigga, increasin’ the suction ’round the head. Cocky muhf*cka! I massage his balls, remove his cock from my mouth, then spit on it.
“Damn, nice, big, pretty lips…”—I continue slurping and sucking and gulping him—“…slap them lips with it, baby…yeah, like that…bounce that shit on ya wet tongue…suck that cock…take it all the way down in ya throat…suck on that muthaf*cka…”
I slide my right hand between my thighs and massage the front of my p-ssy, lightly brushin’ my * while gobblin’ up this muhf*cka’s cock. I spit on it. Suck it real nasty-like, smackin’ my face, lips and tongue wit’ it; jackin’ it while nibblin’ ’n lickin’ and suckin’ on his balls. Then bury his dick in my warm mouth and slow suck the muhf*cka, balls deep.
“Aaaaaaaah, f*ck man…aaaaaah, shit…gotdaaaamn…”
I spit on it again, stroke it, squeeze his balls, then run his dick back down in my throat, lappin’ at his balls. Hold the head in my throat, workin’ this fat, juicy muhf*cka ova wit’ my long tongue while strokin’ my p-ssy.
“Oh, daaaamn…I like that…shiiiiiiit…ooooh, oooooh….that’s right, baby…spit all over that shit. You can do whatever u want wit’ it… this is your dick, baby…Suck on them balls for me.”
This is your dick, baby… I roll my eyes up in my head. Yeah, right, nigga! How many otha bitches you run that shit to?
When I’ve given this nigga all I’m gonna give ’em, I pull his dick from outta my throat, then get outta bed.
He looks up, all wide-eyed ’n crazy. “Yo, why you stop?”
I open up a drawer, pull out a silk purple teddy, then shimmy into it. “It’s time for you to go,” I tell ’em ova my shoulder as I’m slippin’ its straps over my shoulders.
“Say what? You f*ckin’ wit’ me, right?”
I stare at ’im, tilt my head. “Hell, no, I ain’t f*ckin’ wit’ you, muhf*cka. Get ya shit on and bounce.”
He blinks. I walk ova to his clothes piled up in the middle of the floor, tossin’ ’im his boxers. “Let’s go, nigga.”
He’s still sittin’ here, starin’ at me. I stare back, placin’ my hands up on my hips. He sucks his teeth, snatches ’em from off the bed, then gets outta the bed. His dick is on rock. I can tell the nigga’s heated. But I don’t give a f*ck. He slips on his boxers. His dick is pokin’ outta the slit. I almost laugh.
“Yo, you really gonna put me out wit’ this hard-ass dick?”
“Yup.”
He shakes his head. “Yo, that’s f*cked up; word up.”
“I’m sure you gotta ’nother line’a hoes you can hit up to feed da dick to.”
He walks up on me. “Yeah, aiight, if you say so. But, you already know what it is. You know I ain’t tryna f*ck wit’ no one else so why you trippin’ ’n shit.” I ig his ass. Tell ‘’im to hurry up ’n step. He snatches me up; manhandles me. And the shit makes my p-ssy pop. “Yo, you really gonna do this.” He grinds himself into me. “You feel all this hard-ass dick?”
I ain’t gonna front. I wanna drop down low and finish this muhf*cka off. Bitch, stick to da script…put da nigga out. I push ’im back wit’ my hand, then step outta his way.
I pop my hips toward the door. “I’ll meet you downstairs. And don’t take too long puttin’ ya shit on, either.”
He laughs, shakin’ his head. “Yo, I don’t believe this shit.”
“Believe it,” I say, walkin’ outta the room and down the stairs.
Five minutes later, he comes down fully dressed. I can see how a weak bitch could get caught up in the matrix and get strung the f*ck out on this chocolate muhf*cka. The nigga ain’t lie. He got good dick, good tongue, and a buncha good damn game.
He steps up in my space, smirkin’. “Yo, you got that off, ma. Real f*cked up. But, it’s all good. I got you, though. I’ma be back thru.”
I grin. “Yeah, if you say so.”
He pulls me back into ’im. And I let ’im. “I know you think I ain’t shit. But I told you, a muhf*cka’s ready to change.” He grabs me by the ass, squeezes. “I want you, Kat; real talk. All I’m askin’ is for you to give a muhf*cka a chance. Damn.”
“Muhf*cka, you don’t want me. You wanna have me wrapped ’round ya finga, sweatin’ ya ass, that’s all.”
The way the nigga’s gazin’ at me is makin’ a bitch’s knees wobble. “Nah, you wrong, baby.”
“I’m not ya baby. I keep tellin’ you that.”
“Yo, check this shit out,” he unzips his jeans, fishin’ out his dick. “You see this dick”—he shakes it in front’a me—“it’s yours. I’m yours. Yeah, I’ve f*cked mad bitches, aiight. I told you this. And, yeah I can f*ck ’em anytime I want, and I got ’em sweatin’ a muhf*cka for this dick. You know that shit, too. And you already know I gotta buncha bitches who hit a nigga up wit’ that paper. All that shit’s been established already. So what? I ain’t feelin’ ’em like that. I done put da shit out there for you; straight up. No secrets. No bullshit. And that’s what it is.”
I shrug. “So what you tellin’ me for?”
He stares at me. Shakes his head. “Do you even have’ta ask? Yo, have you heard anything I said?”
I eye ’im. “Nigga, I don’t wanna play games wit’ you. I’m really not that kinda bitch. So before you put me through it, we need’a peace this.”
“Yo, I ain’t peacin’ shit, ma. I told you what it is. And I ain’t playin’ no games, either. A muhf*cka’s diggin’ you. And I wanna see where this shit takes us.”
I fold my arms. “This ain’t takin’ us nowhere.”
He smiles, then leans in and kisses me. Against my better judgment, I let the muhf*cka slide his tongue in my mouth and run his hand up under my teddy. I part my thighs and let the nigga finga my p-ssy. And a bitch lets out a moan. Damn, this nasty muhf*cka!
He pulls his fingas out, then sucks on ’em. “All bullshit out da window, Kat. You gonna be mine; ya heard?”
“Get out,” I tell ’im, openin’ the door.
“I’ma call you tonight. Make sure you pick up.”
I slam the door in his face. And hear ’im laughin’ to his car. Cocky muhf*cka!