by K. Webster
I bite back a laugh during every one of her prayers. She’s a spunky, old thing. I’ll be gutted the day she leaves this Earth. Grammy is my only family, and I’ll be lost without her. The moment she said the words “childbearing hips,” I instantly thought of the mysterious woman from today. Her hips were thick and curvaceous. I want nothing more than to grip them until they bruise while she rides me orgasm after orgasm.
“Boy, are you day dreaming again?” she questions, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Oh, um, no,” I lie, which earns me a glare. I get my lie-detecting skills from the master herself. Thankfully, she lets me slide.
I’m about to take a bite when CJ’s ringtone starts playing from the entryway table. He knows not to bother me after ‘work,’ so it must be an emergency, which is imperative to why I must take the call. I ignore the disproving look from Grammy and rush to answer it.
Keeping my voice low, I grumble. “What is it?”
“Hey, boss. Um, you need to get down here right away. There’s been a situation with the females. These bitches are crazy. I’m sorry to bother you, but they’re fucking uncontrollable!” he gripes, seemingly frustrated.
“Fuck! Okay, I’ll be there in ten,” I growl and hang up.
I’m still muttering under my breath when I make my way back into the kitchen to deliver the bad news. She’s standing by my plate, wrapping foil over the top—already knowing what I’m going to say before I say it.
“Another friend need help?” she questions.
I nod. I hate that I lie about this to her, but there’s no other way. She would never approve, and I’m too far into it to ever stop.
“Well, my grandbaby isn’t going hungry. You take this to-go plate with you so you don’t starve, son,” she declares, setting the plate in a sack. She hustles over to the fridge and pulls out her famous chocolate cake. After she cuts me off a generous-sized piece and wraps it up, she adds it to the sack.
“Thanks, Grammy. I’m sorry,” I tell her genuinely.
Everything I do is for her, but she will never understand my ‘side job,’ which makes me feel continuously guilty for keeping it from her. She’d rather go hungry than have her grandson deal drugs. And Grammy going hungry will never fucking happen. Not my Grammy.
“Will you be out late? Should I expect you back soon?” she asks as I kiss the top of her head before gathering up my bag of food.
“I fucking doubt it,” I groan, knowing that the sound of CJ’s voice means I’ve got a mess on my hands.
Before I even realize my mistake, Grammy has her rolled up magazine and swats me upside the head.
“No cursing in my home, Benjamin Winston Cartwright!” she scolds and whacks me again before I duck out of her way so I don’t get it a third time.
This would be the downside of living with your grammy. I’m second-in-command to the city’s largest cocaine dealers. I scare most men with just a glare. But when I’m home, Grammy is the boss. It truly is ironic.
“Love you, Grammy!” I call out and bolt for the front door, scooping up my keys along the way.
She mumbles out something about having to eat by herself, and I try desperately to ignore the guilt that eats away inside.
I open the office door to find one of the chicks I found today and her. Her being the mysterious one who refuses to give me her real name. The women are sitting in chairs near each other and both of them look pissed off. CJ, who is pacing the office, turns to me and frowns.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demand, setting my bag down on the desk.
“Ask them,” he spits out, unusually angry for normal CJ behavior.
I turn my head back to the two women. Both have their arms crossed and refuse to look at each other. Wait? Is that blood coming from her nose?
Stalking over to her, I startle her when I kneel in front of her sitting in the chair. “Baby girl, did she hit you in the nose?” I ask softly.
She goes from looking pissed to upset, which confuses me. “I was minding my own fucking business when Bitch Face decided to push the mattress I was laying on up with her feet and knocked me off the bed! On the way down, I banged my nose. But was that enough? No! She fucking attacked me. What is your problem with me anyway? You want him?” she demands, snapping her head in the direction of the appropriately named Bitch Face, who is glaring back at her. These two want to kill each other.
“I don’t like you. And my name is Tameka, not Bitch Face. But we can call you Cocksucker since that’s how you plan on getting paid around here,” she antagonizes.
My girl—yeah, she’s already mine in my eyes—bolts from the chair lightning fast and tackles Tameka out of her chair and into the floor. I’m shocked at first but quickly recover and run over to yank Kerry or whoever the fuck she is off of Tameka. I capture her in a bear hug with my arms around her middle, and I can’t help but feel turned on with her body pressed against my cock. Thankfully, CJ yanks on Tameka’s arm, pulling her to her feet.
“You two need to cool the fuck off. CJ, take Tameka back to her room. You.” I dip my mouth real close to the ear of the beautiful one. “You are going to calm down in here with me.”
She relaxes against me and I feel like I’ve won a small victory. I keep her in my hold until CJ leaves with Tameka. Reluctantly, I let her go and point to the chair. She plops down in it, defeated.
“You interrupted dinner, baby girl,” I complain while scooping my bag up from the desk and sit beside her. “It’s your lucky night. I’m sure the frozen dinners in the kitchen were less than appetizing. Want to share with me?”
She shakes her head, still pouting from her little catfight.
“Suit yourself, but Grammy makes the best fried chicken,” I taunt.
As soon as I say “Grammy,” I want to kick myself. I’ve never mentioned her to anyone besides Oculus from this dark side of my life. But with this girl, I want to tell her fucking everything, which is a problem.
Turning to me, she smiles beautifully over my way. With a half-cocked smile, she asks, “Grammy?” Milk chocolate eyes shimmer with amusement. The corner of her mouth twitches as she tries to keep from laughing. I want my mouth right there—right on the corner of her perfect, plump lips.
“Yeah. Got a fucking problem?” I grumble in mock annoyance as I pull the food out onto my lap. I set the cake plate on the table beside me and pull the foil from the still-warm plate.
She bites her lip to hold back a grin, and I fork a bite of mashed potatoes into my mouth, hiding my own smile. There’s just something so damn cute about her.
“Nope. Not a problem here,” she finally utters.
Noticing that she’s hungrily eyeing my mouth as I eat, I scoop up another bite and hold it up to her.
“No, thank you,” she replies breathily.
I reach over and cup her chin, placing my thumb against her lip. When she gasps and closes her eyes, I urge her mouth open and slide in a bite of the potatoes. Her eyes fly open in surprise at the delicious goodness I just gifted her with.
After she swallows them down, she compliments my grammy, making my heart thump with pride. “Those have got to be the best mashed potatoes I have ever tasted! Give me another bite, Pac,” she orders.
I laugh and gather another forkful to feed to her. There’s something about this girl that feels…comfortable. Just as much a part of home as Grammy’s mashed potatoes.
“Tell me your real name. Please. I need to call you something,” I try again.
Her playful eyes turn dark and she looks down at her hands, avoiding my penetrating gaze. “Call me Kerry or Mack or Braids.”
Her comment stings, which is so fucking lame considering that I barely know her. But I want to know her. She’s just making it so damn difficult.
“Or I could tell you my real name in exchange for yours. Our little secret.” I want to tell her my name as much as I need to know hers.
She goes silent but doesn’t deny my request, which seems like headway to me. So instead
of pressuring her more, I continue to feed us until the entire plate is gone. Everything about this is intimate. I set the plate down on the table and turn to her, waiting on her answer. When I see that she has a little gravy on the corner of her mouth, I do exactly as I want and capture her head with my hands, bringing her perfect lips to mine.
She once again flutters her eyelids closed, allowing me to do as I please. Needing—wanting—me as much as I need—and want—to have her. Darting my tongue out, I slowly lick the gravy off before trailing kisses along her full, pouty lips.
I’m allowed access into her mouth when she parts it open and greets my tongue enthusiastically. She seems too far away, so I grab her curvy waist and pull her over into my lap so she’s straddling me. At first, she seems shocked, but she quickly ignores whatever seems to be always holding her back and gives in to deepening our kiss.
My hands slide to her ass and cup her through her tight jeans. The woman has the kind of ass you want to grab on to while you fuck her from behind. Just the thought of her naked has my cock straining against my jeans, pressing against the sweet spot between her thighs.
I groan into her mouth as I push her ass toward me, urging her to grind against my dick. “God, I fucking want you so bad,” I whisper between kisses.
She grinds herself against me, creating a friction that will have me fucking coming in my pants in no time. I take hold of the hem of her stupid T-shirt and yank it from her body, revealing her perky tits, which are provocatively threatening to spill from her pink bra. Her pink Victoria’s Secret bra. Definitely not a bra you buy in the ghetto.
I break our kiss to trail my lips and tongue down her neck to her collarbone, where I gently bite down.
“Pac,” she whimpers as she digs her fingers into my shoulders, seemingly enjoying the love bite. I hate that my nickname falls from her lips. She deserves more.
I drag my tongue to the swell of her breast and suck in the sweet taste. God, I want all of her—every single inch. Curling my fingers into the top of her bra, I pull it down, revealing her small, dark nipples. When I suck one into my mouth, she throws her head back and moans.
“Pac!” she cries out this time.
Shit. I can’t do this.
“Ben,” I growl against her tit and nibble her.
She freezes, and I look up at her, worried that I broke the spell. Instead, she looks down at me with unguarded eyes and captures my lips in a sweet kiss.
“Maya,” she mumbles so low against my lips that I almost miss it.
Maya. So beautiful. So strong. So sexy. Just like this girl.
I’m just fumbling with the latch of her bra, ready to strip her down and claim her body in this chair, when the door bursts open.
“Boss—shit! Sorry, man. Listen, Blaze just did a fucking drive-by and took out some of our guys. He’s been watching us and—” CJ babbles on before I cut him off.
My girl—Maya—is half naked in front of this man. Instead of thinking business, all I can think about is getting his eyes away from her. I pull her to me to hide her chest against mine.
“CJ, wait two minutes in the hallway,” I command. This night just keeps getting better and better.
He obeys and slips out the door. When he’s gone, she pulls away and looks down at me. There’s fierce determination in her eyes, and I can see that she wants to help me.
“Who is Blaze and why is he after your people?” she demands with authority in her voice. This woman really thinks she can do something about it—I can see it written all over her face.
“It’s just business, baby girl. No need to worry. Go back to the girls and I’ll take care of it. Try not to fight with Tameka, and I’ll come for you all in the morning to set you up with your supply.”
Her face falls, and she looks hurt that I’ve pushed her away. Hell, I’m hurt that I’ve done it, but she doesn’t need to get involved with Blaze. There’s nothing she can do about it.
She hardens her look and climbs off of me. I want nothing more than to continue our night of touching, tasting, and claiming, but I have work to do. Blaze is fucking with our territory big time and I’m getting pissed. If I’m pissed, Oculus is livid.
She hastily yanks her shirt from the floor and starts putting it on. Within seconds, I can no longer see the smooth, milk-chocolate-colored skin on her belly. My cock is still pressed against my jeans—needing her touch, but that isn’t going to happen tonight.
“Goodnight, Pac,” she grumbles as she storms toward the door.
Jumping up from the chair, I stride over to her and catch her arm before she opens the door. “Maya.”
She spins around to face me, eyes blazing.
I reach up and cup her cheek. Using my thumb, I stroke her face gently. “Maya, I’m sorry,” I apologize softly.
Her eyes lose some of their fury and she pleads silently with them for me to understand. “I can help, Ben.”
Dipping down my head, I rub my nose against hers and look into those light-mocha eyes, which are searching my own. In a perfect life, this would be the kind of woman I’d want to take home to meet my Grammy. One I’d take on dates—a woman I would not only make sweet love to but also fuck like a porn star. A kind of woman like this, I’d make my queen in a perfect world. Unfortunately, this is not a fucking perfect world. I’ve made a lifelong commitment to something and I can’t back out now. Not even for her. She’ll only be a distraction—one I can’t afford to have. Fuck.
I slide my hand from her face to her neck and revel momentarily in the quick thumping of her pulse. Knowing that this will need to be the last time, I selfishly take it anyway. Bringing my lips to hers, I softly press mine against them. This time, she doesn’t hesitantly kiss me at all. In fact, her hands slide up my chest and curl around the back of my head, bringing me closer to deepen our kiss. She kisses me hard, needing me while I kiss her gently, wanting to remember it.
Before I do anything stupid—like fuck her against the door instead of dealing with Blaze and his fucking mess—I pull away, causing her to whimper.
Hating myself for what I’m about to say, I step away from her and affix an all-business look on my face. “Go to your room. I’ve got shit to take care of. Be ready to work tomorrow.”
Her face falls once again and I feel like a total asshole. Quickly, she turns angry and spins around, flinging the door open in the process.
“And here I thought you were different,” she mutters before stomping away from me.
I ACTUALLY THOUGHT HE WAS different. I’m furious that I allowed myself to become so transfixed on him that I forgot my real reason for being here—to bring down one of the city’s biggest drug operations to date.
Swinging open the door to our ‘dorm,’ I storm in, strip my jeans and shoes off, and climb to the top bunk without so much as casting a glance in anyone else’s direction.
“Boss man didn’t want to fuck you? Poor skank,” Tameka taunts from below me. I fucking hate this chick and am two seconds away from choking her out.
“Fuck you, ho,” I throw back at her.
“Keep it up, nasty bitch, and I’ll cut you in your sleep.”
I roll my eyes. “Bitch, you just try it.”
She grows quiet and I become more enraged from just imagining her looking for her fucking knife. I swear to God, if she pulls a knife on me, it won’t be pretty for her. I’ve taken down men much larger than her scrawny ass.
After about thirty minutes of lying in the dark and no sneak attacks from Tameka, I figure I should try to contact Miguel. All three girls appear to be asleep. Stealthily, I slip off the bed and make my way to the door. I easily slip out and pad down the hallway. All the lights are out, so I quietly open the first door to see if there’s a phone.
The smell of ammonia hits me, and when I briefly switch on the light, I realize I’m in a janitorial closet. I turn the light off and back out of the room, softly closing the door. The next door I come to is the one I was in earlier with Ben. How far would we have gone if C
J had not interrupted us? I would have fucked a drug dealer. I shake my head at the stupidity of my actions.
Skipping the next door, I proceed to the last one on the right. When I open the door and turn on the light, I’m delighted to see a desk with a phone on top. I rush over to it and quickly dial Miguel.
“Hello?” he answers on the third ring.
“It’s me,” I whisper.
“Maya!” he says, relief evident in his voice. “How are things? What’s the status? Do you need help?” he rushes out.
“Things are fine. I’m set up with three other girls. Tomorrow, we should hit the street to make sales. I’ve got in good with the second-in-command. His name is Pac.” For some reason, I withhold his real name. “This clan of dealers seems to be one of the biggest. Give me some time to locate the leader. And, Miguel, it is bigger than we think. There’s another group—a guy named Blaze leads that one—and they’re in the middle of what appears to be a territorial war. The multiple homicides earlier this evening was done by Blaze most likely, and he was after Pac’s men. I’ll keep my nose to the ground and report back when I can.”
He grunts his approval. “Stay safe, Maya. I want you home.”
Something about the way he says the last part makes me sad. Miguel would do anything to make me his girlfriend. And there’s no doubt in my mind that he would treat me like a queen. But I don’t want him—not like he wants me. I want something else. Something forbidden. I’m destined to be alone.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” I whisper and hang up.
A door creaks open and I whirl around to face whoever caught me in the act.
