Billion’s mother was standing right there, and she got Denim to walk away with her, but Denim talked shit the whole way back over to the pavilion. When she left, it was just Billionaire and I standing there. He tried to reach out touch me, but I pushed him.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed.
It wasn’t even him who I was mad at. This entire situation just had me pissed off. I had such a bad habit of always thinking the worst when something happened. I knew I was having a panic attack by how I was breathing. Khari running off was a trigger for me. It brought back everything that happened in Mexico.
“How the fuck you going to be mad at me, Normani? You the one who let her get the fuck away!” he said, shocking me with his words.
His words hurt me so bad that I just started swinging on him. It was one thing for his stupid baby mama to throw my mess-up in my face, but for my own husband to kick me while I was already down, that hurt me far worse. I’d never gotten so mad at a person that I resorted to violence, but he had pushed me there. I was crying and swinging on him at the same time, and my hits were connecting. He eventually got a hold of my hands and pulled me into the restroom. Monterius was walking past as Billionaire pulled me into the restroom.
“Yo. Billion, don’t put your hands on her, bruh,” I heard Monterius say as he came over and tried to defuse the situation.
“I look like Ima put my hands on a pregnant woman? Go, bruh! I got her,” Billionaire said, and then he led us into the women’s restroom and closed the door behind us, making sure to lock it. We were the only two in there.
“After your baby mama just stood there and talked to me crazy and blamed this on me, you turn around and do the same damn thing. Leave me the fuck alone, Billionaire! How dare you! You know how much I love and care about Khari! I would never intentionally let anything happen to her! Just go! Leave me the hell alone!” I screamed, trying to push him out.
I needed a moment to myself. My hands were on his chest, trying to push him out, but he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.
“I ain’t even mean to say that shit—”
“You didn’t mean to say it, but you thought it!” I said, cutting him off.
“No, the fuck I didn’t! I only said that shit because you started screaming that don’t touch you bullshit, and I was just trying to make sure you was straight. Why the fuck are you beating yourself up over this, Normani? We found her! That’s all that fuckin’ matters, yo! Chill the fuck out!” he said before letting go of my hands and softly pushing me back.
“I’m leaving. I’ll meet you at the house,” I said and tried to walk around him, so I could get to the door.
“And get home how? You rode with me, shorty! Didn’t I just fuckin’ tell you to chill the fuck out? Ima get on Khari later about running the fuck off. I ain’t putting this shit on you at all, ma, because she’s old enough to know that she ain’t supposed to just wander the fuck off, without letting nobody know where she’s going. Talking about you leaving! Fuck is you going, and how? When I fuckin’ drove you here!” he barked.
I didn’t answer him, and when I didn’t, he walked over and grabbed my hand. He took my wedding rings off my finger and the small Cuban link chain that he’d gotten me from around my neck. He even removed the expensive anklet that he’d bought for me.
“I don’t need a nigga robbing you when you leave. You want to leave, Normani, and meet me back at the house, then go! You just better hope that I be at that motha fucka,” he said and then put the items in his pockets.
After staring at me for a few seconds, he left the restroom, slamming the door behind him. I was sick and tired of Billionaire second-guessing me and thinking I would not do the things I threatened to do. He had every right to be angry because Khari was his daughter, and she went missing while she was with me. My husband had a way with words, and I swear he knew how to crush you.
I took about five more minutes to get myself together in the restroom, and then I eventually came out. Instead of going back toward the party, I went in the opposite direction toward the parking lot. With my phone in my hands, I pulled out the Uber app and requested a ride. It let me know that the Uber would be there in two minutes, so I stood right there and waited for it. I would show Billionaire better than I could tell him, and to use the same words on him that he’d just used on me, he’d better hope like hell I was home if he did bring his ass home! He wanted to say mean and hurtful things to me, then I would do the same thing to him.
Hours later
I rolled over and looked at the time on the wall in the theater room. It was a little bit after eleven at night. I questioned how I’d fallen asleep in there and why I was still in my clothes from earlier, and that’s when everything made sense. The fact that I woke up from my nap confused let me know that I’d slept well. It hit me that I’d run off from the party, taken an Uber back home, and once I made it there, I’d gone into the theater room, watched TV for a few moments, and fallen asleep. That was hours ago, though.
I had no clue how I even slept that long because, these days, having to pee interrupted my sleep damn near every hour. When I got into that Uber, trust me, I had every intention of being petty and hiding out in my mom’s apartment, but I knew I would be in enough trouble with my husband for running off in the first place. I didn’t want to put him in a position where he was forced to come and find me, so I brought my ass home.
I felt around the chair I had been sleeping in and grabbed my phone. There was a missed call from my sister, Twinkle, and Billionaire’s mother. I clicked out of that and pulled up the app on my phone that showed footage of the exterior of the house. All my husband’s cars were there, which meant that he was home. I groaned, already knowing I would have to feel him for running off and doing what he thought I would not do.
I sat all the way up in the chair and stretched. Then I stood up, folded the throw blanket, and set it in the seat. I slipped my feet into my slippers, picked up my phone, and went into the small, half bathroom in the theater room to release hours’ worth of urine from my system. When I finished, I went over to the sink and washed my hands.
I stared at myself in the mirror, studying the lines on the side of my face from the good nap I’d just had. My eyes were still a little red, holding that sleepy look on my face. I removed my ponytail and ran my hands through my hair, knowing I would need to wash it tonight. After looking at myself in the mirror for a good two minutes, I walked out of the bathroom and the theater room then closed the door behind me.
A good bath and to just let my body soak were what I needed. I took the stairs up and checked the kids’ room. When I saw Khari, I was surprised because I just knew that Denim would’ve raised hell about not wanting her daughter to come to my home. I didn’t think there was anything that anyone could ever do to get Denim and me to get along. It was something about her spirit that I just didn’t like. Her entire vibe was just wrong.
I understood that Khari was her daughter, and I would have been mad too if my child had gone missing. I wouldn’t have handled it the way she did, calling me all types of bitches and whatnot, right in front of Khari. The anger she unleashed on me earlier today was deeper than Khari running off while she was in my care. Denim had a deep-rooted hatred for me, which is why she was coming at me so hard.
I walked further into Khari’s room and kissed her on her cheek. This little girl gave me the scare of my life this afternoon, but I was just glad she was there. I eventually left her room, then went across the hall and checked on Lil Bill. He was in his room as well, sleeping on his stomach. His stocking cap covered his long dreads, and the controller for his Xbox was in bed with him, which let me know that he fell asleep tonight, playing that game. I stood there, admiring him for a few short moments, and then I closed the door behind me.
I took the long hallway leading to our master bedroom, and before walking in, I released a sigh. I pushed the door open and saw Billionaire in the room, sitting at the foot of the bed with his shirt off, his gym sh
orts on, and the remote in his hands as he looked for something to watch. He didn’t even look at me; he just continued doing what he was doing with the TV.
My eyes left him and landed on the dresser, which held all my jewelry that he’d taken off me earlier today. That my husband wouldn’t even look at me, let me know he was pissed, so I wouldn’t even try to spark up a conversation with him. I walked over to my side of the room and pulled out some panties and pajamas from my drawer to put on after my bath. Usually, I would put on one of my husband’s shirts after I finished bathing, but he would probably snap on me and tell me not to touch his clothes.
When Billionaire was mad at someone, he could be petty as hell. I mean, look at what he was still doing to my father’s church. He had every right because my father had pushed him there. If you drove by my father’s church during the day, there would be protestors out there, trying to get his building shut down. Initially, the church was still packed, looking the same as it looked a year ago, but these days, if you pulled up his service, there was nowhere near as many people in his church.
Once I had the items in my hands, I walked into the closet and put my sandals down. I wanted so badly to talk to Billionaire, but I knew he was mad, and I didn’t want to push him.
By the time my bathwater was ready, I had the lights dimmed in the bathroom because that was the best way to take a bath. My music was softly playing as I finally stepped out of my clothes and lowered my body into the massive jacuzzi styled tub. Billionaire didn’t even bother to come into the bathroom, and I’d been in there for thirty minutes. I can’t even remember the last time I took a peaceful bath like this because if my husband and I didn’t bathe together, he would still come in, sit on the edge of the tub, and talk my ear off about something.
I sighed, unsure of where to begin with him because that man’s temper was through the roof. I took a nice bath, even washed my hair, and then I was finally out. I did my nighttime skin routine, applied my body butter, and then I slipped on my nightclothes. When I finally joined my husband in bed, and I got comfortable on my side.
Billionaire had the TV on old Western movies because it was something that he liked to watch, but also something that I hated. He was on his side of the bed, lying on his back, with his head propped in his hand. I could see it in his body language that he was still angry. As angry as I knew he was, I still crawled over and attempted to lay with him, but he pushed me back.
“Nah, bruh. Don’t touch me. On some real shit, Normani, a nigga not even fuckin’ with you like that right now,” he said and moved over so he wouldn’t have to feel me touching him.
I blew out my breath, taking the remote from the middle of the bed and turning the TV off. I used the other remote that controlled the lights in the room and turned them on because we needed to talk. When I did that, Billionaire stood up from the bed, and I could tell he was about to walk out of the room.
“A nigga ain’t trying to talk right now, Normani, if that’s what you cut the light on for. You had the chance to talk to me, but you ran yo’ ass off. You talk about that Mexico trip freakin’ you out every fuckin’ chance you get, yet you hop yo’ ass in an Uber with a fuckin’ stranger. Watch out, man, before I hurt yo’ feelings,” he said and walked out of the room.
I put my house shoes back on and followed him.
“I shouldn’t have left, Billionaire, but I was mad. On top of that, I was embarrassed. Everybody already knew that Khari was missing, and by then, it was a scene, so everyone knew that I’d lost her. I know you say that I shouldn’t care what people think of me, but how do you think I felt with everyone pointing the finger at me? Thinking that your own wife can’t even properly watch your kids when you’re not around? That, and I let Denim get under my skin like I always do,” I said as he walked down the stairs, but he was still ignoring me.
I was right on his heels, prepared to follow him wherever he was going. We made it to the kitchen, and he pulled open one of the drawers where he stashed some of his weed and his lighters, so I knew he was about to go outside and smoke. He got the items and headed for the patio door. I was right there, ready to go outside with him.
“I’m about to smoke. Stay yo’ ass in the house. I don’t know why you following a nigga, Normani! The same way you ran yo’ ass off because you needed some space, well, I need the same shit right now! Watch out,” he said, and then he went to open the back door.
“Didn’t you just have space? I just came back around you! You so mad at me that you not even trying to see where I’m coming from. I get mad at you sometimes, but I never push you off like this to the point that I don’t even want to be around you. Why are you doing this? Baby, just stay inside, so we can talk,” I said and grabbed his arm, but again, he pushed me off him.
“Watch out. I need some weed in my system,” he said, and this time, I just let him go.
As badly as I wanted to go out there, I knew he would be madder if I went out there pregnant, and he was blowing smoke in the air. Feeling defeated and like I didn’t know what to do, I went into the den and sat down, tucking my feet under me. From where I sat, I could see Billionaire perfectly. My hands went for my stomach because Prosper was in there, kicking up a storm. I rubbed my stomach as I watched my husband pace around the pool. Usually, it would take him about a good ten to fifteen minutes to smoke, but tonight, I felt like he was out there purposely taking his time.
About twenty minutes had passed, and I didn’t see smoke anymore, so I stood up, prepared to go outside. I slid the door back and stepped out. He was sitting in one of the chairs under the gazebo. I made it over to Billionaire and stood right in front of him.
“I don’t know how else to tell you that I’m sorry—”
“Then stop saying the shit, Normani. A nigga is just having a hard time understanding your logic from earlier today. Do you realize that you still bring up Mexico? Like, did you fuckin’ forget that a few nights ago, I caught you crying because of that shit? Yeah, Khari ran off today, but we found her! You broke down when you couldn’t find her, and you ain’t gotta say it, but I know you broke down the way you did because of what happened to you in Mexico! With all that, you dip the fuck out and leave with somebody who could have succeeded at the job this time and sold yo lil’ ass into some sex trafficking bullshit for real this time! Me taking that jewelry off you wasn’t the fuckin’ green light to run yo’ ass off. I was daring you to try me, and you tried a nigga. Is this shit clicking to you yet? Do you realize that something could have happened to you and my fuckin’ baby?” he barked at me.
I couldn’t even use the fact that the Uber driver was a woman in my defense because it was a woman in Mexico who got me caught up. All I could do was nod my head because he was right. I should have just waited, and at the very most, I probably could have called my mom or my sister to come and pick me up from the party.
I slipped my house shoes off and climbed on the lounge chair that he was sitting in and got behind him. I scooted up close, so my stomach was pressed into his back, and I wrapped my hands around his waist, kissing his muscular back. That went on for about five minutes, and in those five minutes, he didn’t even attempt to show me any signs that I was slowly winning him over.
I stopped kissing him and got off the lounge chair, then went in front of him and dropped to my knees. A few weeks ago, my husband and I were watching a movie, and in one of the scenes, the woman was giving the guy head. Billionaire commented, “That’s a nigga’s weakness.” It hit me then that my husband is always giving when it comes to pleasing me, and I’ve never dropped to my knees and gave it to him. I had thought about it on so many occasions, but I was just too scared to do it.
If I was pissed at my husband, one of his favorite things to do was eat all my attitude out of me, so I was going to pull one of his moves on him, and I could only hope it worked. I took one of the pillows from the chair and planted my knees on it. My small hands went to the waistband of my husband’s gym shorts, and I grabbed his big, thick
dick. I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew he thought that my scary ass would back out of doing this, but I wasn’t.
My husband was huge, and he was curved, plus there were veins in his dick. Exactly like a mushroom is what his dick looked like. I scooted up a little bit, and at that moment, I channeled the woman from the movie we were watching the other night. I lowered my mouth on him, trying to take all of him in.
“Shitttt,” I heard him groan, and that made me feel good like I knew what I was doing.
I sucked my husband at a nice and slow beat. The more I did it, the more I enjoyed it. I can’t even lie, I was scared that I wouldn’t like the taste, but his taste was good, to the point that I was trying to swallow him whole. The more I sucked up and down on his dick, the more my husband kept groaning, and the wetter I could feel my pussy getting. I left one hand on the base of his dick as I continued to suck him, and I used my other hand to play with myself because she was down there crying and wanting to be touched.
“Take yo’ shirt off, bae,” my husband said, trying to push my head away.
I took my shirt off then lowered my head back onto his dick, using a lot of spit. As I did that, he brought his hands down and twiddled my nipples with his fingers, knowing I loved when he did that. I was moaning onto his dick, my movements were getting faster, and the more I did it, the more I kept getting turned on.
My husband moaned my name with me. When his grunts got a little louder, both of his hands went to the side of my head, and he guided my movements on the head of his dick, I knew he was about to let loose, and I was ready.
“Fuckkkkkk! Ima nut,” he let me know.
Drops of his semen went into my mouth before he moved my head out of the way, and the rest of it spilled out onto the sides of his dick. I swallowed what I could, and he pulled me up by my arms then laid me down on my side, making me face him.
“That was your way of apologizing to me?” he asked, and then his fingers went for my clit.
Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 3 Page 20
