by Jaci J.
“I need you to stay still.” My mind races and my body begins to hum at his words. I want him to keep touching me.
I feel something lightly touch the skin of my stomach, then I feel the same touch two more times. It makes me jumpy. I have no clue what he’s doing to me.
Leaning over me, Rampage puts one rough hand directly below by boobs, and the other down around the curve of my thigh, fingers so long they reach my ass cheek. Leaning down, his face disappears below me boobs, out of view. A chill hits me as soon as his face touches the skin of my stomach. A rush of heat, a need comes over my entire body, wanting more of what he can offer me.
I hear a deep inhale as he glides his face along my skin, and another, and another. With each motion, I feel his tongue glide along the same path as his face. I’m shaking from the intense reaction my body is having to him until I’m brought back to reality. He stands up, throws his head back and inhales deeply, with one finger pressed to the side of his nose. I watch those rude eyes roll and the corner of his lip twist into sick satisfaction. He just snorted three lines of coke off my stomach. He slowly brings his eyes to me and growls, “Fuck, Lala.”
3
Drugs
Rampage
Vanilla. She smells like sweet vanilla and tastes like fucking sugar. While snorting my lines, I can’t help but run my tongue along her smooth, perfect skin. I want to run my tongue all over her body, especially where I have her pants pulled down her hips. I swear, once my face is on her and I look up, I can see the underside of her tits and that shit is truly painful and so goddamn beautiful. How the fuck can that little bit of plump skin have me picturing blowing my load all over her perky round tits and rub that shit all over her from head to toe. Yeah I know I’m fucking gross, sue me. I want to claim every goddamn inch of her and mark her as mine that way.
I see those long lashes fanned on her cheeks and I start coming up with ways to get those eyes to pop open and roll back into her head, so I use my tongue on her. I can see the rise and fall of her tits with each unsteady breath and I find my hands itching to just grab two handfuls and suck on them instead.
Tipping my head the other way, I get to see those perfect hips and right down her jeans to her sexy fucking red underwear. Three buttons and those holey fucking jeans could be gone. My face could be between those thighs eating like I’m fucking starving to death. I could even take those long legs and throw them over my shoulders while I drive my dick into that hot, wet pussy of hers. Fuck. It would be so goddamn good it’d be wrong.
I lift my head to let the coke take hold of my senses and the edge off of wanting to kill Blue for putting his grimy ass hands on Lala. I get the blurry calm when that shit hits my blood stream. I wait for that shit to bring my anger down a notch or two. He fucks around and looks her way again, I’m gouging his eyes out with a rusty screwdriver.
Scrubbing my hands up and down my face to clear the anger and sexual need away, I sit my ass back down, but the coke makes me want to fuck, and fuck hard. Damn, the things I wanna do to her right now. My knee bounces and my hands shake.
“You done with me?” She asks softly.
Not even fucking close comes to mind, but instead I mumble, “Yeah.” Sitting up on the bar she turns and throws her legs over the edge, and just like that, I picture spreading those legs wide open for me and ramming hard and fast right into her. Why? Why the fuck does she have to be so goddamn hot?
Her body, her smell, her face… she is her own kinda drug. She’s pure street China White, ecstasy, Columbian cocaine and a heroin injection straight to the fucking jugular. A bitch like that becomes a habit. A habit you can’t kick. Death is the only way out of that shit.
She gets off the bar, but I don’t let her go. I put that ass right on the stool next to me. She doesn’t say anything or even look at me, but she accepts the drinks I pass her. I take this time to just stare at her, imprinting that shit to memory. From head to toe, I store that body away. Even if I never get to touch her, fuck her, or ever get to see her again, at least the next bitch I put my dick into will be Lala in my twisted mind.
****
After she takes a few more shots, Lala stands up, and I know she’s about to leave. I don’t fucking like that shit at all.
“Well, thanks for having me. It was nice meeting y’all.”
Lil comes over and wraps an arm around her shoulders, “You ain’t driving home babe. You’re gonna crash at our place, okay?”
“That sounds so much better than driving home tonight, so yeah, sounds great.”
Turning toward the door, they start to walk away. People start to holler out goodbyes, the old ladies hug and talk about making plans to get together soon. Before she makes it to the door, she stops and looks back at me with a huge smile on her face that’s only meant for me. It’s a smile I’ll remember ‘til the day I die, big and bright.
“Night, Rampage.”
After Lala and that motherfucking body of hers leaves, I drink and smoke enough to convince myself that while I’m fucking Red later tonight, I’ll really be fucking and seeing only Lala. It’s just a means to an end.
****
Pulling into the club’s lot with Stitch a few days later, we pull up to the bay doors of the shop.
“Where the fuck is everyone?” he asks looking over at me, killing his bike. Seriously? Why the fuck is he asking me?
“How the fuck would I know? I’ve been with you, dumbass.”
The place is dead. Each bay of the shop is full of vehicles, minus their mechanics. What the fuck? Not a single brother, prospect, old lady or kid around. Ain’t this shit fucking strange. It’s never this goddamn dead around here. I park my bike and hop off to head inside.
The inside is almost as bad as the outside, except for Leo and a few whores wandering around. Of course Leo’s old ass is at the bar.
“Where the hell is everybody?” Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Leo points to the side door and gives me a raspy chuckle.
“Those crazy bitches are out there,” Crazy bitches?
Stitch and I head for the door. I’m still trying to make sense of Leo’s crazy bitches comment when… FUCK. This is some shit I never expected to fucking see.
Lil, Peaches, and fuck, Lala, are all outside. They’re wet and wearing skimpy clothes while washing Lil’s jeep.
Stitch throws his head back and belts out his laughter of joy, like this is best thing he has ever seen. “Today just keeps gettin’ better.” Every asshole is out here. Yeah, it’s wonderful fucking day.
Gin is pretending to work on an old ass bike that’s been out here a good four years. That fuckin’ thing is never gettin’ fixed. It’s rusted to the point that pieces just fall to the ground, and it’s got no goddamn engine. Tags is pretending to help him by handing him tools, but neither one of them are even looking at the bike.
I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into these guys, but Arms is sittin’ back at the picnic table watching the show, while Crush and Kash are tossing a flat football back and forth. King is managing the hose for them. This has got to be the most pathetic thing I have ever seen in my life, not that I blame them for watching the show, but these guys see this shit on a daily basis, just not from real women like these.
Walking over to Lala, she sees me and gives me that sweet as fuck smile that drives me crazy, the one that makes me want to smile, especially being all wet and sexy and shit. Is she trying to kill me?
“How ya doin’, Rampage?”
“You’re shittin’ me, right?”
Throwing an arm over my shoulder, Stitch answers for her, “She sure the fuck ain’t.” Yeah I can fucking see that.
Shrugging his arm off, I give his ribs an elbow. “Fuck you, Stitch.”
“Lookin’ good, Lala, baby,” Stitch adds and throws her a wink, not paying anyone else a bit of attention.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me.
“Stop starin’ at her tits, Rampage,” Lil yells at me from the other side of her Jeep.
When the hottest bitch on earth is in front of me, wearing a tight, wet tank top with the nicest boobs I have ever seen, fuck yeah I’m gonna look. They all look hot as hell.
She’s fucking killing me and she just doesn’t know it.
“You’re an asshole, babe,” I tell her seriously. She’s doing this shit on purpose, I know it. There can be no other reason she’d be here at my club wearing shit like that if she wasn’t here to fuck with me. This is a fucking test. A test to see if I can keep my motherfucking hands to myself. A test to see if I can keep from beating the shit out of every asshole here for staring at her. She did this shit just to drive me crazy.
She laughs and says, “If it makes you feel better, next time I’ll wear my robe to help Lil wash her car.”
“Appreciate it.” She laughs again and rolls her eyes at me. If she only knew how fucking serious I am. I’m about ten seconds from wrapping her ass up in a tarp just to cover all that perfect skin up.
“Are you hungry? Lil and I made club sandwiches, garlic fries, and potato salad.”
Killing me. Baby girl is trying to fucking kill me.
****
It’s been a few weeks since I met Lala, and when I don’t see her, all I do is think about her. I wonder where she is and what she’s doing. Kind of fucked up considering I’ve barely hung out with her and I’ve only seen her twice. I’ve got no business thinking about her really, but here I am drinking and thinking about her anyway. This kind of feeling is one I don’t understand, nor do I want to.
After she washed that stupid fucking Jeep and fed me, she hung out, had some drinks and shot the shit with me for a few hours. Everything I learn about her just keeps getting better. I have never met a bitch so goddamn easy to be around. No drama. No bitching. She’s calm and sweet. Didn’t know bitches could be sweet and chill, but here she is, changing my fucking mind.
That’s not the only shit that’s got my attention, it’s the confidence the oozes from her. Baby knows she’s hot as fuck, knows she can have and do whatever the fuck she wants, but she doesn’t throw that shit in your face and she keeps it in check. Lala’s got attitude and a smart fucking mouth, and she can back her shit up. She doesn’t take no shit and she’s just as willing to give it if she has to receive it.
I’m a grown ass man and I’m fucking crushing on this bitch. She is the whole package of what any man like me would look for in an old lady, but that shit ain’t gonna happen. I’m putting that shit up to just pure sexual attraction. I want to fuck that bitch, and I want to fuck her bad. That’s it.
Okay so I’m lying my fucking ass off. She struck something in me the other night – something I’m having a hell of a time trying to shake. I don’t know how to deal with feelings, or whatever it is taking hold of me, but that shit is gonna stop. I’m not exploring it. Hell, I wouldn’t even know what to do with them anyway.
****
Walking through the club, Lil hollers for me from the office as soon as my ass is in the fucking door. Damn that girl is on it.
“Rampage, whatcha doin?” Lil is a pain in the ass more than she isn’t.
“Depends.” My answer gets a laugh from her.
“Well get your ass in here, will ya?”
Walking into the office I find Lala sitting on the couch across from Lil’s desk, holding Ty. Well, goddamn. Fuck she looks good. She just made my fucking day.
“Depends on what?” Lil fires back, pulling my attention back to her. For a minute I stare like an asshole while my brain starts to work again.
“On what ya want me for.” I try hard not to stare at Lala, but that shit’s not easy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shift on the couch, noticing she won’t make eye contact with me. She looks uncomfortable. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but I don’t. It’s none of my business.
Lil goes to say something, but Lala waves her off before she can start, “Don’t worry about it, Lil, really. l said I would figure it out, okay?”
Fuck, now she’s got me curious.
“Nope. Rampage can do it,” Lil shoots me a look that says I’m doing whatever it is, whether I want to or not. Bossy little shit.
“What do ya need, Lala?” I ask, but little bossy britches answers for her.
“Lailah’s car is makin’ a noise,” A noise? That could be anything. Women don’t know shit about cars, I swear.
“Care to elaborate?” I notice Lala shift around again. What’s her fucking deal?
“Don’t listen to Lil. I said I’ll figure it out. I know you guys around here have better things to do anyway,” she says softly.
“Lala?” Here yes shift down and she still won’t look at me.
“Can you guys please just drop it already?
“Nope. I’ll be outside looking for a noise that you don’t wanna seem to elaborate on.”
“I can’t afford to have it fixed right now, okay? Just let it go, please?”
“Make me lunch babe, ‘n we’re good.” I was gonna make Lil do it anyway.
Turning to Lil I ask, “Where’s the car at?”
“At the college.” Is she fucking kidding me? I would have assumed she drove it here. “Why is it at the school? How’d she get here?”
Lil gives me a big, sneaky fucking smile. She’s obviously leaving some of the story out, sneaky bitch. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sabotaged the car as an excuse to get Lala here, just to show me she’s not giving up on making Lala my old lady.
“It wouldn’t start so I picked her up.” She thinks she’s so smart.
Sticking my head out the door I holler for Kash.
“Kash! Get the tow. Let’s go pick up a hoopty.”
****
The car is not worth my time. I spent an hour doing a diagnostic, which only provided more shit than I had started with before hooking it up. I spent two more hours hunched over, head under the hood, not finding a damn thing worth fixing. This piece of shit is a scrapper. I’d rather junk the fucker and break Lala’s heart than have her roll around in this death trap. Hell, the next time she started it up, it could have exploded.
The only thing this car still has going for it is that the doors open, the dome light and windshield wipers work, and it has one functioning seatbelt. That’s it. It’s a grade a piece of shit.
“Where’s Lil ‘n Lala?” I ask Peaches. She points to the kitchen. I might as well give Lala the news that her sorry ass car is on its way to being scrapped as we speak.
Walking to the door, I hear both Lil and Lala chatting, so to catch a little bit of their conversation, I wait outside the door, eavesdropping like a fucking girl.
“Is he crazy? Got issues? It seems like everyone keeps their distance from him. They even look at him like they are just waiting for him to blow up or something.” Lala asks Lil.
Issues? What the fuck? Yeah, I’m crazy. A dick? Sure. Issues? Fuck no. I’m not some Ted Bundy type of motherfucker, I just don’t like to be fucked with and people know that just by looking at me.
“Nah, Rampage is one of the good guys. He certainly knows how to be a prick, they all are, but he truly is one of the best guys you could ever meet. He’s good people,” Lil says with a laugh.
“He always seems a bit distant. Sometimes it’s like he’s not even interested in what we talk about. I can’t tell if it’s just his way, or if he just doesn’t find me interesting enough to have any real conversation with, but regardless, he’s always nice to me. Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings? And if that’s it, I think that’s sweet… he’s sweet.” Lala confides, getting another laugh from Lil.
Sweet? Not interested? Never, but hearing her say I’m sweet puts that stupid fucking smile on my face. Someone needs to start beating the shit out of me ‘cause I’m turning into a goddamn pussy over this bitch.
“Girl, once you get to know him, he talks all the fucking time.” Lil reassures her.
A hard hand lands on my shoulder with a smack, startling the shit out of me.
“The fu
ck ya creepin’ ‘round for?” Tank asks me. Shrugging his hand off of my shoulder, I glare at him. I hate when people sneak up on me and he knows that shit. It’s how people end up bleeding.
“Not creepin’, asshole.”
Looking at me and then back toward the kitchen he says, “’Coulda fooled me. You’re either creepin’, or you’re into that girly gossip shit.”
“Shut the fuck up, Tank. You lookin’ to get your ass kicked?”
“Ah, so it’s the gossip you’re into, brother. You want me to get some tea ‘n shit. We could brush each other’s hair, share our secrets…”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
“No thanks. You’re not my type, brother.”
Tank shoves me through the door and into the kitchen. Lil and Lala are sitting at the breakfast bar and all I can do is stare at Lala. I don’t know if it’s just me, but she gets hotter every fucking time I see her. I’ve never seen a woman who could wear baggy sweats, an old t-shirt, and not a scrap of makeup look so goddamn gorgeous. This girl makes that shit look sexy as fuck. Usually I like my bitches trashy, big hair, fake tits, and thick makeup ‘cause that’s what I’m used to. I’m chalking it up to the fact that it’s just Lala. No other bitch would look that good in that shit and pull it off like her.
She looks up and gives me a genuine smile, showing me that she’s happy to see me. A smile I only ever get from her. Instantly I start to feel guilty that I have to tell her that her car has been sent to its final resting place.
“So?” Lil pushes. Scratching my head, I try to find a nice way to put it, but shit isn’t coming to me so here’s to being an asshole.
“Can’t do shit about the car, so I scrapped it.” Lala’s face falls and instantly I feel like shit. Dammit! I’m such a dick.
“Are you saying that nothing could be fixed? Nothing at all? Not one fixable thing that could at least get me to school and work?” Lil gives me the death glare. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. She shakes her head and mouths ‘fucking asshole’ at me.
I’m at a loss. I don’t know what the fuck they wanted me to do with that piece of shit. I sure as fuck wasn’t gonna let her drive out of here in that death trap. Lala looks really upset over that stupid fucking car. It was a busted up 90’s Honda. That thing is not worth stressing over.
