“Hardly.” I roll my eyes and go search for my mom.
“Robyn, wait up,” he calls after me, but this time he doesn’t make the mistake of touching me. “Robyn!”
“My name is not Robyn.” “What? But …?”
I knock on the bathroom door. “Mom, are you in there?”
The door opens and Uncle Rawlo steps out, spraying the Lysol can.
“Good God.” I pinch my nose.
Rawlo smiles. “Y’all might want to wait a few minutes before going in there.”
No shit. I turn away with my nose hairs burning and my eyes watering.
“Moooom!” I knock once on my father’s bedroom and then walk right in. “Oh my God.”
“Jordan!” My mom springs away from my father and then pulls the sheet up over her face.
Mouth open, I shift my gaze over to my father. I can’t believe this shit. “Dad?”
“Hey, baby.” He cocks a smile. “Um, me and your mother are a little busy at the moment.”
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” My mother grabs a pillow and piles it on top of her covered head. “My baby girl is going to think I’m a ho!”
“Nonsense,” my father tries to reassure her.
“I … I was just about to leave,” I stutter.
“So soon?” My father frowns. “But you just got here.”
“Exactly,” I say, still trying to take in the scene. “You surely didn’t waste any time.”
“What can I say? I still got the magic touch. Ain’t that right, Sandra?”
“Does she still have the door open?” she croaks from behind the pillow. “Oh my God, I’m so humiliated.”
“Now, baby. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Dad turns and tries to hug her through the piles of pillows.
“Don’t worry. I’m leaving.” I start backing out.
“I’ll make sure your mother gets home okay,” Dad volunteers.
Whatever. I keep backing up until I close the door to The Twilight Zone. When I finally turn to leave, Keston blocks my exit like a big brick wall. “Cool parents.”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
His brows dip together. “Oh. Because it looks like they were fucking.”
“Never mind. I don’t have time to explain it.” I march around him, suddenly needing some air. The crowd in the living room seems to have grown even larger. The music is bumping, and people are jamming all up on each other. Daddy and his boys really know how to throw a party.
“C’mon now. Are you going to make me chase you all the way out to your car?” he asks, following me. “I’m trying to apologize to you. And seeing how we’re sort of like cousins, you’d think that you’d cut me a break.”
“Cousins?” I turn on him. “Boy, I don’t know you.”
He shrugs. “Well, more like play cousins since my father is your uncle Mishawn. Sooo …”
I laugh dead in his face. “I like your nerve.”
He steps toward me, licking his bottom lip. “There’s a helluva lot I like about you. The main thing being how fucking wet you get when I’m sucking on those fat titties.”
I try to swallow but my mouth is fucking dry. Goddamn. It’s fucking hot in this bitch.
He risks moving closer and linking his fingers through the belt loops on my shorts. “Stop playing hard to get. You’ve made your point. I fucked up. I’m sorry. Now how do we start this shit over, Jordan … Robyn … whatever the hell your name is?”
“Start over?” My gaze dips to his plump, juicy lips, and then my head starts filling up with all the nasty images from the night at the hotel.
“Surely you can give a brother a second chance.”
“Robyn!”
I jump and swivel my head toward Uncle Mishawn.
“I brought you that burger you wanted.”
He hands me a plate and then pinches my cheek. “Keston, you take care of my girl here. She’s like family.”
“I was just telling her that.” He tosses me a wink and then cuts me a comical look that makes it almost impossible to stay mad at him.
“All right. All right. I give up,” I say.
“Good. How about we find us a spot out on the lawn?”
I roll my eyes but there’s a smile on my face as we thread our way through dancing bodies. At least the music has changed up from the seventies and skips to the nineties with Montell Jordan’s “This Is How We Do It.”
We find a pair of empty lawn chairs off in the corner of the backyard where a lot of kids are just running around in circles telling bad “your momma” jokes.
“Your momma’s teeth are so yellow she spits butter,” one boy spats.
“Your momma is so bald that you can see what’s on her mind,” a tough tomboy spats back.
Keston and I share a smirk as we settle into our chairs. “Kids,” he says, shaking his head.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t act like you ain’t ever played that game.”
“Who, me?” He presses a hand against his chest and tries to give me his puppy-dog look.
Laughing, I shake my head. “Innocent is not a look you can pull off.”
“No?” Keston’s dimples deepen. “Huh. I’m going to have to work on that.”
For a few minutes we just sit there and grin at each other. I can’t seem to stop the flow of memories of our one night together from crowding my head. That chest, those abs, those hips, and that fucking dick. I start to hand-fan myself, and Keston hops back up. “You hot? You want me to get you something to drink?”
I glance around. “Yeah. If you can sneak me a real beer, I’ll owe you big.”
“Cool.” He winks. “And I’m going to hold you to that.” He turns away, and I watch his fine ass as he walks away.
“Oh, Jesus.” I start fanning myself and then notice that every woman in the yard is clocking his every move. When their gazes drift over to me, there is definitely haterade in the air. If I wasn’t around, I get the distinct impression they’d be pushing a whole bunch of titties in Keston’s face.
“Here you go.” Keston hands over a cold Bud before settling back into his chair. “Sooo … why don’t we back up since we put the cart before the horse last time? What’s your story?”
“My story?” I ask before taking a big bite of my burger.
“Yeah, the woman with two names. I’m not even sure what the hell I’m supposed to be calling you.”
“Jordan,” I tell him. “Just my father and his friends call me Robyn.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Well, I was born Robyn Jordan Banks, but after my mother married my stepfather, she had it legally changed to Jordan Hayes. It was probably done just to piss off my father.”
“Ah. The games women play,” he says, bobbing his head.
“Excuse you?”
“Nah. I’m just saying that … you know.” He shrugs. “When shit doesn’t work out with a female, it’s always about getting revenge on a brother. And if there’s a kid involved, fucking forget about it. Suddenly you can’t come around unless there’s an officer from the court around, or you got to sign over your whole paycheck for the next eighteen years just for the kid to be able to come around your people.”
I cock my head at him. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience. You got kids?”
He shrugs. “One. A little girl. I ain’t seen her since she was two years old. Her momma got pissed off because I cut her off.”
“What? You stopped paying child support?”
“Nah. Nah. I cut off her dick payments. Shit wasn’t working out anymore. I sat her down and told her that I’ll always care for her but that I wasn’t feeling it anymore. Shit. I thought I was doing the mature thing in just being up front with her. Right?”
“Were y’all married?”
“Engaged.”
“For how long?”
He thought about it for a minute. “I don’t know—about two years.”
I nearly choked on my burger.
“What?”
> “So you just had her playing house?”
“Nah. It wasn’t nothing like that…. It just never felt right. You know, we got engaged when she told me that she was pregnant, so I thought the thing to do was to propose and make our shit legit. But …”
“It never felt right,” I help him out.
“Right.” He shakes his head. “I guess you think that makes me some kind of asshole.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.” He laughs. “Damn. Doesn’t a brother get any brownie points for stepping to her and just telling her the deal? I wasn’t cheating on her or nothing like that. I kept it real.”
“Well kudos, I guess.” Shaking my head, I take a deep pull from my bottle of beer.
“So let me guess. You would prefer for a man to just lie and stay in a relationship he knows ain’t working?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to. Your face is about to twist off.”
“Nah. It’s just …” I bounce my shoulders. “It just seems that every dude I meet has all these kids and baby mommas everywhere. It’s like an epidemic.”
“Ahh.” He leans back. “You’re one of those. Are you about to start preaching now?”
“No, no. I’m just saying.”
“What you saying? That you don’t want to have my baby?” he challenges.
The question unexpectedly shuts me down, because the very idea of having this man’s baby isn’t a complete turnoff. “Look. Let’s just squash this. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“A’ight. Cool.” He finally takes a bite of his own burger, and for a few minutes we just chill and watch folks dance and talk around the yard. When we finish eating our burgers and are just picking over the potato chips, Keston asks, “So what do you do?”
“For a living?”
He bobs his head.
I cock a smile because I know what’s about to happen. “I’m in law enforcement.”
His face falls. “No shit?”
“No shit. I’m a DEA agent.”
“Whooo.” He plops back in his chair and starts cracking up. “I wasn’t expecting that shit. Motherfucking DEA?”
“Is that a problem?”
Still laughing, Keston shakes his head. “Nah. Nah. It’s … uh … cool. I guess.” He keeps going like he can’t stop.
“You’re sure? You’re not involved in any illegal activities I should know about?”
“If I am, do you seriously think I’d sit out here and tell you about them?”
It’s my turn to laugh. “No, I guess not.” I rake my gaze over him again. Despite his thuggish good looks and tats, Keston still strikes me as not being all that he appears to be. “What about you? What do you do?”
“A little bit of this and a little bit of that,” he answers with a smirk.
I cock my head. “Now that’s not fair. I told you what I do for a living.”
“Well, you’ll know better next time.” He laughs.
Uncle Mishawn tries to push another burger on us, but we wave the offer off and decide to join the people dancing in the living room. No surprise, Keston busts out some good moves that instantly get me hot, so I start freaking his ass right back. It doesn’t even matter that we are doing this in my father’s living room. We are in our own little world.
By the time R. Kelly’s classic remix of “Bump ‘N’ Grind” comes on, I’m thinking that I could really fall for this guy. That shit is scary.
Chapter Eight
Two weeks later …
“Impossible?” Alvaro spats, glaring at Delmar. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to get my drugs back and you tell me it’s impossible?” he says, and then wipes the cocaine residue from beneath his nose.
“Alvaro—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Delmar snaps his mouth shut and draws in a deep breath. For weeks now he had been plotting and planning on just how to get his boss’s shipment back. It doesn’t matter that their organization was back up and running in the three states the DEA hit. In fact, that had been the easy part. In the grand scheme of things, the busts are just mild hiccups considering the amount of weight they are moving day to day, week to week, and month to month. They were far from bankruptcy, but Alvaro refused to let it go. As far as he was concerned, the government’s interference was a major slap in the face.
Slowly, Alvaro stands from behind his desk, clutching his 9 mm. What is left of Delmar’s right ear starts tingling.
“Take a walk with me,” Alvaro commands as he heads toward the back glass doors that lead to the pool area.
Delmar casts a worried look to the other men in the room, but they carefully ignore meeting his gaze. He has no choice but to push his fear aside and fall in lock step next to his old friend. Once they’re outside, they walk slowly around the pool.
“You know … I don’t like this word. Impossible.” Alvaro sniffs. “No one should know this better than you, amigo.”
“Yes, Alvaro, but—”
“No, no.” He holds up a finger. “No buts. I don’t like it. Telling me something is impossible is like telling me no. You know I don’t like that either.”
Delmar swallows nervously.
“I’ve been more than patient with you. It’s been two weeks, and I still don’t have my drugs back. Because we’re friends, I feel comfortable telling you that you’re starting to piss me off.”
Delmar’s ears start tingling again. “I’m sorry. That is not my intent.”
“I should hope not. I’d hate to have the pool boy scoop you out of the pool tomorrow.”
Delmar takes another deep breath. “Forgive me, old friend, but I’m just trying to point out the level of difficulty involved in stealing drugs from the DEA. It’s nothing more than a suicide mission. All people within the agency keep telling me the same thing. Those headquarters are guarded too well. It’ll be like breaking into Fort Knox.”
Alvaro stops walking. “Are you telling me that you can’t get my drugs back?” Alvaro’s hard stare turns into black ice while he starts waving his gun around.
Once again, Delmar clamps his mouth shut and tries to prepare for either pain or death.
“It’s protocol for the DEA to house or store the drugs until the trials, correct?”
“Yes, amigo. But like I said, those facilities are usually well guarded.”
“But I imagine they would need all the drugs to be transferred to one location.”
“Yes, but—”
“Has that already happened?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should find out? Because it seems to me that the best time to snatch back what is rightfully mine is to intercept the drugs during transport.”
Delmar opens his mouth, but then quickly shuts it when he realizes that his stoned boss has actually made a valid point.
A wide, sinister smile creeps across Alvaro’s thin lips. “You see, amigo? Nothing is impossible.”
Delmar smiles, though he still has a bad feeling about this.
“Get on the phone, find when those drugs are going to be transported, how many cars are going to be guarding, and then hire the best people you can find and get me my fucking drugs.”
Chapter Nine
Keston Bishop is hands down the best fucking lover I’ve ever had. I’ve never had a brother who brought his A-game every single time. I broke my own rules and allowed him to start spending the night at my place. I even let his ass have a small corner on the bathroom counter where he could leave his toothbrush, shaving cream, and electric razor. A few times, I’ve even got up in the morning and cooked his ass breakfast.
Me. I don’t do that shit.
“Move your pussy over this way,” Keston coaches after twisting my ass up like a pretzel and then hitting me off from the side. “Ah. Shit. That’s it.”
He ain’t lying. He’s hitting my spot so good that it feels like my pus
sy has turned into liquid candy. It doesn’t matter because Keston is going to clean me up with that greedy-ass tongue of his after a while.
“Are you loving this shit, baby?” he asks above the sound of our bodies slapping together.
“Y-yeeessss.” Shit. Doesn’t he know it’s hard for me to breathe?
“Then how come I don’t hear you telling me how much you like this good dick?”
“Baby, I … I love this good dick.
” “LOUDER!”
“I LOVE YOUR FUCKING DICK!”
“Now that’s what a nigga likes to hear.” His hips shift into overdrive, and he pounds me so deep into the mattress I’m going to start coughing up foam in a minute. I start to feel that familiar drop in my belly, and I try to hold my breath to prepare for this next orgasm, but there’s just no way to prepare for this motherfucker, which seems to explode everywhere, from my toes to the ends of my hair.
Behind me, Keston is chuckling about the amount of candy I’m coating that sweet dick with. When he releases my legs, I pop up and get on my job tongue-bathing him down. “Ssssss. Shit, baby.” Like always, he brushes my hair out of my face so he can watch me work. It’s all right. I like when he watches me. It feels like there’s a spotlight on me and I’m working to impress.
Maybe it’s in the back of my head that I don’t want him to feel like he ever needs to sit me down and tell me that he’s not feeling me anymore. I can see how a woman might go a little insane if she’s told that she is being cut off from dick privileges with Keston. It’s been only a couple of weeks and my ass is straight addicted. When we’re not together, I’m constantly looking and checking my phone for calls or text messages. And if there’s a night where he can’t come over, I’m wondering why and whether there’s another girl in the picture. That can be a strong possibility. I don’t have any real claim on him, and, hell, it ain’t like we ever had a conversation about the shit.
Sinking my head down as far as I can go on his cock, I squeeze the muscles at the back of my throat for as hard and long as I can. Keston tenses up while the head of his cock starts pulsing and drizzling precum down my throat. I want him to lose it and blast off, but he’s not finished playing with me, so he pulls out and rubs his wet dick all over my mouth.
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