A pretty smile spread across her face when I reached under her dress to push her panties to the side while kissing on her neck. I released myself from my basketball shorts, and rubbed my tip against her clit to juice the pussy up. Isla was soaking wet in no time, and I just shook my head as I lifted her a little bit to bring her down onto my dick.
“Mmm, shit,” she whimpered, as I glided her up and down my dick slowly. In no time, her walls started to contract around my rod, and she was cumming.
Pulling the top of her dress down, I took her nipple into my mouth before switching to the other, and once I was satisfied, I placed her legs on my shoulders. Gripping her waist tightly, I began to hammer her pussy mercilessly as she cried out, cumming so hard on my shit that it was like a damn waterfall.
“Fuck,” I groaned, plunging into her sopping wet hole with her legs on my shoulders.
A few more hard pumps later, I was filling her up with my seeds and she was raining down on me once again.
She panted heavily, sexy ass body drenched in sweat, as I let her legs down.
Draping her arms around my neck, she pressed her forehead against mine and kissed me a few times.
“Things are gonna be better now.”
“They gon’ have to be. I’m done running up behind yo’ ass, Isla. If I feel some shit is off, even a little bit, I’m done with you. And best believe, if you are fucking around, whatever nigga you’re fucking with is as good as dead once I get word.”
Pausing for a moment, Isla scanned my eyes and then smiled softly before saying, “I’m not worried.”
***
Two nights later …
“Bad Business” by 21 Savage was bouncing through the speakers of the strip club, which was filled with a bunch of half-naked bitches. The secluded room I was in had dim lights, and weed smoke filled the air.
I was for sure a muthafuckin’ weed head. I took three or four blunts to the head a day before 6 p.m. Think that shit made my lyrics better, and was probably why my shit was considered smoker’s music.
I’d been in the studio all fucking day, busting my ass to get this album done. I was hot with myself for letting the bullshit deter me. Rap was some shit I always loved, and nobody came before it once upon a time. But this shit with Isla had me so fucking wrapped up that I was starting to care more about what the fuck she was doing than my music, and I couldn’t have that. Only people that came before that shit now would be my baby boy and my moms. Once Isla proved herself to be loyal, then maybe I’d add her ass back to the list, but for now, I was coolin’.
“Nigga, why the fuck you get her pregnant?” Qamar shook his head as some bitch danced in his lap. Usually, I didn’t engage in the stripper shit out of respect for Isla since she didn’t like it, but fuck it.
“You act like I did the shit purposely, my nigga. She’s my girl and I was fucking her. At least I ain’t get a psycho nigga’s wife pregnant.”
Qamar stared hard at me before exhaling and pushing the bitch that was dancing on him, to the floor. Before she could even get up good, Wonder was pulling her over into his lap.
“Muthafucka, didn’t I say I ain’t wanna talk about that shit?”
“Then don’t come for my situation, bruh. Yo’ shit is way worse. At least Isla is mine and not some coke addicted bitch married to a damn sociopath.” I inhaled on the blunt, giving the stripper a smile since she smiled at me.
“Whatever, nigga. Don’t bring that bitch up again. Ain’t my fucking baby anyway.”
“You honestly believe that?” I glanced his way.
“Yep.”
Lying ass.
“I honestly hope it’s not. We all know Greezy is not all there,” Wonder chimed in, and I nodded in agreement.
“Well, like I just said to you niggas, it ain’t mine, so it ain’t shit for me to worry about,” Qamar continued.
“I love your music so much, MG.” The pretty stripper smirked at me, rotating her body in my lap perfectly.
“Oh yeah?” I inquired, not really caring about what the fuck she had to say. This atmosphere for some reason had scammer ass Kattlyn flooding my thoughts.
“Yeah I do.”
“Aye, I think I had the best fucking pussy in the world recently,” I said to Wonder who was grinning over his lap dance, and to Qamar who was in deep thought.
“What bitch?” Qamar frowned, as Wonder looked on.
“Don’t worry about all that. I don’t want yo’ thirsty ass trying to come after her and get some.”
“Nigga, try? If I wanted to fuck whoever it is, I could and I would.”
“Maybe you could, but you not.”
Wonder laughed at our back and forth, before getting up.
“Aight y’all, I’m out. I gotta handle some shit,” he said, checking his phone.
“Handle some pussy?” Qamar’s brows lifted and I shook my head.
“Don’t worry about all that. This shit could involve my wife. I do work with her ass too, you know.” Wonder grinned, obviously lying.
“Yeah, aight,” Qamar and I said at the same time before Wonder dipped.
Suddenly, I saw a group of niggas walk past the VIP room Qamar and I were in. The last dude stopped at the entrance of our area, and gave me a smirk. When he did, I saw it was that nigga Don that I’d accused Isla of fucking.
“What’s good, MG?” He had the muthafuckin’ nerve to step into the room smiling like we didn’t beef way back for almost a year over him claiming he’d fucked my baby mama.
“Man, get yo’ clown ass up outta my shit before I bust yo’ shit.”
Laughing as if I was joking, he replied, “Yo’ soft ass ain’t gon’ do shit. You’s an internet gangsta.”
Muthafuckas loved to call me soft, and like I said a million times before, I gave no fucks about what another nigga thought of me. What kind of man would I be to put on a front for another nigga? That’s some gay shit honestly. I wasn’t soft by any means, and the people closest to me knew that. But I wasn’t about to beat on my chest and roar all the muthafuckin’ time to prove it.
“Excuse me, baby girl.” I gently moved the stripper in my lap to the side, as she stared at me with eyes filled with fear and confusion. Standing up and somewhat towering over Don since I was six feet five and he was about six feet one, I gritted, “I’m gon’ give yo’ wannabe hard ass one more chance to get the fuck out of my area before I rock yo’ shit.”
Don smirked again, then made a face like he wasn’t bothered.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
I punched that nigga three good times, and way too quickly for him to respond to any of them before stumbling back.
“Oh shit!” Qamar shouted through laughter, as Don’s boys came running back to the room to see what happened.
“You got me fucked up!” Don hollered, obviously dazed from the heavy hits I’d delivered to him.
“I got plenty more if you want it.” I remained calm, waiting for him to get his equilibrium intact so he could run up.
“Don, man, let’s just fucking go!” one of his homies yelled.
“Nah, fuck that!”
WHAM!
When he ran up, I hit him again, and he stared at me sleepily before slumping to the ground. By that time, security had come in, and Don’s boys were dragging him out. Nigga was napping like a kid in preschool with his fake gangsta ass. Yeah, these niggas may bark louder than me but I bite harder … trust.
“You all are gonna have to go!” security shouted.
I chuckled at the sight as Qamar and I walked out of the room, but not before I shoulder bumped security.
Outside, people were snapping pictures like a muthafucka, so Qamar and I quickly hopped into the back seat of the black-on-black Yukon we rolled up in.
“I love that side of you that ain’t crying over Isla,” Qamar joked, letting his head fall back on the headrest.
“Shut the fuck up,” I laughed.
Chapter Two: Isla Tyree
“So how did he take it?” my
friend Diana asked as we stretched out at the gym. I had to keep my body right even though I was currently pregnant.
“He took it okay. I guess I expected him to be happy about it, but he was just kind of like … skeptical almost.” I stared off for a moment then added, “He even questioned if it was his!”
Shaking her head, Diana replied, “Is it?”
“Yes, bitch, it is!” I snapped.
“I’m just saying, Isla, you be out here doing the most and wonder why he comes at you the way he does. And you have no reason to be the way you are. MG is my type of nigga, honestly. He’s got his own money, he takes care of you, he ain’t out here slanging dick, and he doesn’t beat your ass. Plus, didn’t you say the dick was bomb?”
“You don’t get it, Diana.”
“Well help me get it because to me you look crazy. You know how many of us pray to get a man like that, that ain’t a corny ass nerd? And you got him.”
I rolled my eyes as Diana sang the same old song she always did. It was almost like she was in love with my nigga, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. Every time we talked, she was always on his side, and the bit was getting old as hell.
“Did you forget he slapped me that day he hauled me from your damn celebration party?”
“Now that was a bit much, I admit, but MG has a little bit of gangsta blood in him. You should have told his ass where you were going instead of sneaking out like a teenager.”
“Whatever. Let’s finish this because there is a party tonight at Butch’s.”
“I don’t know if I feel like going to that. My son is coming tomorrow evening, and I wanna make sure everything is in place for him.”
“Tomorrow and evening are the keywords, Diana. Just come with me tonight. I don’t wanna go alone, and since MG is out of town for a show and took Michael, this is my only time to be me again,” I whined like a little child.
“Bitch, you need to grow the fuck up. I’ve been your friend since we were fifteen and you still act the damn same.”
“Because I’m young at heart. Get like me.” I smiled as we both picked up some weights.
“Only thing like you that I want is a good nigga who takes care of home and has good dick.”
I ignored her statement and just faced the mirror. I smiled while starting to lift the small handheld weights, because I was beyond excited about tonight. I couldn’t wait to turn up without MG breathing down my neck, and having to worry about our son.
***
I looked over myself in the mirror, smoothing my hands down my body. I had on a tight red number that showed all the hard work that I’d put in at the gym. I knew my stomach would be bulging soon, so right now, I was about to admire my physique for as long as I wanted to.
DING DONG!
I rushed off to get the door because I knew that was Diana, and most likely she had something for us to sip on. I know you shouldn’t drink while pregnant, but I did it with Michael in the really early stages, and since he was alright, I’m sure this one would be too.
“Hey bit—” My words got caught in my throat at the sight of MG’s overbearing ass mammy. “Irene, what are you … doing here?” My words trailed off as she barged in like she owned the place. I swear I couldn’t stand this woman, because she put a lot of bullshit into MG’s head, saying I had changed and all this other stuff.
“Going somewhere?” she asked once we got into the kitchen. I didn’t know what the hell she was doing here, but she needed to scram right fucking quick.
“Yeah, I’m going to dinner with a friend, Irene. Umm, is there something you need? You know Micah is in Atlanta.”
“I know where my son is.” She poured herself a glass of wine. “I came to talk to you, give you some advice because I used to like you.” She took a gulp.
“Advice? I don’t need any advice, Irene. Especially if it calls for you trying to tell me how to live my life, aight?” I gently moved my freshly curled tresses from my face. I didn’t have time for this shit!
Shaking her head at me in disapproval, like she always did, she placed her wine glass down onto my beautiful countertops and said, “Isla, Micah has become very tired of you and your antics. If you want to keep him, you need to shed this whole Instagram famous persona you have.”
Bitch, do you even know how to log into Instagram?
“Tired of me?” I pointed one of my mink nails into my chest. “Honey, your son loves me and everything about me. Why do you think he can barely get his album out? Because he’s worried about me, that’s why.”
“I heard you’re pregnant.”
“Yep, just another reason why my nigga ain’t going nowhere.”
“He didn’t seem too happy about it. You know, like he was when you were pregnant with Michael?” She took another gulp of her wine. “And it’s because this little bullshit immature romance you’re trying to have, he’s over it. But you don’t have to listen to me, honey. Just don’t come crying when he meets someone else.”
“Get out of my damn house!” I shouted.
I never got disrespectful when talking to Irene, because she was crazy and MG didn’t play about his mama, but right now, she had me furious.
To be honest, I could feel the difference ever since MG and I broke up this last time. He didn’t even seem to really care about me, and when we fucked, I would cum and he’d pull out and go to sleep. That wasn’t like him at all, and I didn’t know what happened between the time he yanked me from the club until now.
“Hoe, this is my son’s mansion, you just lay your funky ass up in it all damn day until nightfall, when you choose to climb your broke ass out of bed to stroll the club.”
“Irene—”
The doorbell rang again, so I just gave her entitled ass another glare as she drank all of my damn wine. Going to get the door, I saw it was Diana, and sure enough, she had some Patrón.
“I can’t drink any because battle axe is here,” I whispered lowly.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Irene replied. Bitch had hearing like a fucking dog. “Enjoy your night, ladies, and don’t worry, I won’t mention this to Micah. I wanna give you some time to prepare for when he leaves your ass.”
Diana bucked her eyes, trying to hide the smile and laugh that she wanted to let burst through, as I slammed the door behind Irene.
“I swear I cannot stand that meddling ass woman!”
“You’ll be the same once Michael gets older.”
“Anyway, come on and let’s drink a little bit of this shit because I definitely need it.”
Diana and I took a few shots until we got warm all over, which was a sign that we were buzzed. I’d called up MG’s driver, so we didn’t have to worry about being twisted and having to drive to the party and back.
We made it to the big ass house in Baldwin Hills that the party was at, and I swear, I couldn’t help the grin that was plastered onto my face. Stepping inside, I put my tongue out and moved my body a little bit to “Fuck It Up” by YG, as I scanned the party for Butch. The atmosphere was dark with a few lights here and there, just to be able to see where you were going, and people’s faces pretty much.
“How much did he pay to rent this spot?” Diana quizzed, holding her clutch close to her body like she was afraid.
“I don’t know, and how do you know it ain’t his?” I looked her way.
“Is it?” When I sucked my teeth and started to walk off, she replied, “Exactly.”
I waved her off and completely forgot about her hating ass comments once I spotted Butch. He saw me too, and smiled sexily as he waved me over to him. He was seated, surrounded by some of his homeboys and some girls too.
“This is a private thing, right?” I asked, wanting to double check. Butch told me no camera people would be here, and I needed to be sure of that.
“Yeah, man, quit asking me that shit,” he responded in an irritated fashion. “Come here.”
I giddily sat down in his lap, and planted a kiss on his lips. Briefly, I looked ove
r my shoulder to see Diana sitting on the couch adjacent to us, and she was shaking her head, so I just laughed.
“I missed you, baby, so much, you don’t even understand,” I whispered into Butch’s ear before kissing it.
Butch was fine as hell; not as fine as MG because Butch was on the skinnier side, but he was good-looking nonetheless. He had nice brown skin, a low-cut fade, and always dressed super flashy, which I loved. I didn’t understand why MG and his homeboys had all that damn money and only wore a few expensive pieces here and there. I liked my nigga to be dripping, showing how rich he was everywhere that he went.
See, Butch and MG knew each other and quite well since they were both a part of the Head Honcho Music crew. MG, Ricky AK, and Qamar were the top earners with Automatic not too far behind. So why was I fucking around on my man who was at the top of the rap game, fine as hell, paid, and could lay pipe better than Roto-Rooter? It’s simple, and something no one seemed to understand: Butch needed me and MG didn’t.
When I met MG or Micah, he was a little nigga from the hood who had street smarts and a little bit of book smarts, with a flow that was out of this world. Not to mention, he was handsome and wasn’t disrespectful like a lot of these niggas. At the time, I was Isla, the prettiest girl on the block who had straight A’s and was a virgin.
In a way, I was always higher than Micah, and a lot of times, I would show him and educate him on things in my schoolbooks that would amaze him. Not to mention, I was also his tutor throughout high school. When his dad was alive, and would kick him out for ditching school to do things for his music career, my mom and I would let him stay as long as he needed to. So back then, Micah needed me, and now that he was this big rapper with money, intelligence, and having everything figured out, shit wasn’t the same.
Butch was different. He wasn’t anywhere near MG’s success, lived in a mediocre condo, and only cleared about $6,000 a month during good times. That was a far cry from MG who could easily make $200,000 in a week.
She Got It Bad for a Heartless Gangsta 2 Page 6
