Nobody Can Love You Like Them Roughnecks Do 3

by Shvonne Latrice

  “No, I’m still pretty tired.” I got out before the driver could even exit the truck himself to open the door for me.

  We gathered our bags then went to get our key cards for our rooms. I purposely got on a different elevator from Yono because I didn’t want him trying anything.

  I think the worst part of this all was that I was forcing myself to hate him instead of it coming naturally like it was supposed to.

  God help me.

  Belly

  That same night…

  “Look at this, man.” I palmed Blaise’s belly as she laid in bed next to me, wearing only a bra and panties. “He’s growing fast as fuck.”

  “I know. I’m already uncomfortable.” She smiled, placing her hand on top of mine.

  “Yo’ ass lied to me, you know that?” I got on top of her, pressing my palms into the bed to hold myself up.

  “About what?” She adjusted her legs, widening them for me so I could be completely between them.

  “You told me you was gon’ be fat as fuck and I wouldn’t be attracted to you. But I’m looking at yo’ lying ass, and you just as fine.” I kissed her lips slowly as she rubbed up and down my forearms.

  She blushed slightly before lifting up some to get her hair from up under her.

  “You’re just saying that because you have to.”

  “I don’t have to do shit. If I thought yo’ ass was unattractive, I’d let you know. You my girl. I ain’t about to have you out here looking busted as fuck to keep from hurting yo’ fucking feelings.”

  Blaise laughed.

  “So bellies are sexy?” She rubbed hers just before I leaned down to kiss it.

  “Nah, just yours.” I gazed into her pretty ass face for a moment then added, “I feel good as shit knowing my son is gon’ have you for a mother. If I didn’t do anything right in my damn life, at least I gave my kid a much better mama than I ever had.”

  “Aww, baby.” She sat up some so we could kiss hungrily for a little bit. Stopping, she whispered, “You never told me what happened when you went to talk with your mom. Was it bad?”

  Her question made me fall to the side so that I was lying on my back. As I stared up at the ceiling, getting mad as a muthafucka, remembering what happened the last time I saw my mama, Blaise nuzzled up to me. Feeling her stomach up against me made my hand gravitate toward it as if it had a mind of its own.

  “She was in the house with my pops, smiling and shit, just happy like he hadn’t left her for over a decade.”

  “He came back? Why?”

  Shrugging out of irritation, I replied, “I don’t fucking know. He ain’t come back because he loves her or no shit like that. It’s gon’ be the same as it was when I was a kid. He’s gon’ fuck with her until something new in a short skirt catches his attention.”

  “Maybe he changed. You said she seemed happy, right?”

  I looked down into Blaise’s face to see if her ass was serious.

  “No, he ain’t changed. I know that nigga.”

  “People think they know you, and you changed.” She touched the hair growing out of my chin. “Why don’t you try to see for yourself? And I’d like to meet your mom.”

  “I’m nothing like him.”

  “I know. You don’t have to tell me that. I can just see that being at odds with them, your mom especially, is bothering you, so I want it fixed. I don’t like anything bothering you.” She climbed on top of me and kissed my lips. When she sat up, she tousled her hair as I caressed her stomach.

  “That’s why I love yo’ ass.” I gripped her hips. “You know what’s been bothering me for a little minute?”

  “What?”

  “My hard dick. You can handle that for me right now.” I allowed it to peek through my boxers.

  “Cortez, I’m being serious.”

  “Me too. I’m yo’ nigga. You ain’t supposed to let me lay here with a hard ass dick, knowing you got some good wet shit to fix it.” Grabbing the waistband of her panties, I demanded, “Lift up.”

  She did as I’d told her, allowing me to pull her panties down before she got back in place, sliding down onto my dick.

  “Mmm,” she whimpered, palming my chest as her small frame shivered.

  “Fuck,” I grunted, pressing my head back into the pillow at the feeling of her insides. Pregnant pussy was no fucking joke.

  Blaise continued riding me, looking sexy as shit as sweat began to glide down her brown skin. Her long hair cradled her face as she gripped my sides for leverage, before tossing her head back. I watched her sexy, full lips part as moans and whimpers escaped them, before she came down on my dick.

  Sitting up, I hugged her body into mine while unhooking her bra and kissing her neck that smelled like some feminine but sweet shit. Making sure she was secure in my arms, I began moving her up and down a little faster, beating the pussy up to my liking. Blaise dug her nails into my back as she cried out, making my name sound like a fucking hymn.

  “Cortez,” she cried again before gyrating violently due to the orgasm tearing through her.

  “Shit,” I grunted, letting loose inside. After kissing on her wet collarbone for a little bit, I panted, “I already know as soon as this one comes out, it’s gon’ be another one in there.”

  “No, I’m going on birth control.” She breathed heavily before pecking me.

  “Go on birth control if you want to. My nut is powerful as fuck. That birth control ain’t got shit on some real thoroughbred hood nigga nut.”

  “What?” Blaise burst into laughter. “All semen is the same.”

  “White muthafuckas got semen; real niggas nut… and that’s what’s gon’ have yo’ ass pregnant again, birth control or not.”

  “That really makes sense to you, huh?” She cocked her head and then chuckled heartily when I nodded, before we resumed kissing.

  About 15 hours later…

  I’d woken up a little early this morning because I wanted to go meet Joan over on Rodeo. She was gon’ show me some new shit and see what out of it I wanted to give to Blaise.

  My girl had been working hard, all the while carrying my child and taking care of Island, so I wanted to get her something nice. I was holding off on jewelry simply because that muthafuckin’ ring on her finger needed some more time to shine. I didn’t spend almost half a million dollars on it for her to forget about it at the sight of some new earrings. Fuck that bullshit. That expensive muthafucka needed to be center stage for a few more months.

  I ended up buying her some purses, shoes, and accessories from Prada and Chanel, but as I was leaving where I met Joan, I stopped by Fendi to buy something small for my mama. I wasn’t gon’ go all out because she was liable to make me wanna slap the shit out of her ass, and I didn’t wanna blow racks on someone who I halfway didn’t fuck with.

  “Mr. Khalil, oh my, would you like some water or something?” one of the employees inside of Fendi greeted me.

  “Nah, I just want something for my moms. Like a purse, whatever females her age like.”

  “Oh, of course, we have plenty. I’m Amara, by the way. Your mother must be very fashionable if she wants a bag from Fendi.”

  “Nah, she’s just gon’ take whatever the fuck I give her, and y’all were the closest on my way out.”

  The woman nodded, still wearing that stupid ass smile, before she started showing me around the small ass store. I ended up letting her choose the bag because I knew nothing about this shit. I just knew what I liked to see on bitches, and that was as far as it went. I hated them big ass bags that looked like fucking carry-on luggage.

  “How much I owe you?”

  “No charge. Think of it as a gift from me.” She brought the wrapped-up purse out to me in a bag. “And if you have any problems, here is my card. Or, if you want to come shop again, let me know.”

  “So I can walk out the store with this shit and you ain’t gon’ call the police.”

  “No.” She laughed. “We take care of our clients, Mr. Khalil.”


  I nodded, taking the $3,000 bag that I’d gotten for free, and walked my ass out. I remembered my manager telling me that once you got to a certain level, most of this shit would be given to me because the brand got free promotion off of you wearing it.

  I started across the street, feeling people take pictures of me as others called my name or waved.

  As I trucked it up the hill, I spotted my father at the restaurant up top in the outdoor seating section. He was across from a woman, and she wasn’t my mother. This woman was chocolate, with golden hair, and my mama was light skinned with dark hair.

  Anger consumed my whole fucking being as I picked up my pace, ready to slap that fucking grin off this nigga’s face.

  “Who is this bitch, Pops?” I inquired.

  “Excuse me!” the woman replied, palming her chest. “Charles, is this your son?”

  “Yes, Raquel. My apologies.” My father put his hand out and then looked up at me. “We can discuss this later.”

  “Ain’t shit to discuss. I’m actually happy yo’ ass ain’t fucking with my mama no more. I knew it was only a matter of time before something new caught yo’ eye.”

  “We’re a lot alike, aren’t we?” He cheesed, making me snatch him up by his collar, causing the table to shake, glasses to fall, and Raquel along with others gasp.

  “Nigga, you couldn’t compare to me even if I was a strung-out ass crack head on Skid Row. You better stay with this fat neck ass bitch you’re sitting across from and away from my mama, or I’m gon’ beat yo’ ass like yo’ daddy should’ve.” I threw him back down into the chair, and he tried to titter off the embarrassment.

  “Don’t go upsetting ya mama with this!” he called after me when I turned around. “Ignorance is bliss, I’ve learned. Right, Raquel?” He looked to her, and she nodded, blushing like the hot link neck fool that she was. It was obvious she knew how my father got down and didn’t mind.

  Shaking my head, I proceeded to the elevator, ignoring the few fans who wanted pictures and autographs; I wasn’t in the mood.

  When valet brought my whip to me, I tipped the nigga and then tossed my bags in, driving straight to my mom’s place in Inglewood. Once parked, I grabbed her gift, leaving Blaise’s inside and wishing a nigga would try to break into my shit. If a few purses and shoes were worth his brains being scraped off the streets, then by all means.

  I nodded to say ‘what’s up’ to a few niggas I saw outside, then proceeded to my mom’s door. I heard music, so I knew she was still happy as fuck and still messing with my dad.

  “Oh, I didn’t expect you to ever return. Would you like to come inside, baby?”

  “Cortez is fine, and sure.”

  “Cortez, okay.”

  I immediately began surveying the place as she closed the door behind me. I hadn’t been inside here since I was eighteen years old, but she’d kept it up, despite her moods and inability to pay rent on time. The smell from the kitchen made my stomach grumble, but I’d shoot my own dick off before I ate here.

  “Let me talk to you, Christine.” I sat down on the nice couch, throwing my arm across the back as I held tightly onto the Fendi bag in my hand. I’d forgotten about it.

  “Sure. Let me just get my tea.” My mom used to always get told she looked like a young Vanessa Williams, and she still did. She could pass for being in her late thirties, and maybe younger had she not been so stressed half her fucking life due to my dad. “Okay, I’m back,” she announced as if I were blind then took a seat.

  “First, here.” I handed over the purse. I wanted her to have it before she pissed me off.

  “Oh, hone—Cortez, thank you.” She set her mug down and then dug inside. I felt myself smiling just a tiny bit seeing her light up as she opened the dust bag, but when I noticed, I nipped that shit in a bud. “So beautiful. It looks expensive too.”

  “It was.”

  “Thank you so much. I appreciate it. I can’t wait to wear it. I love that it’s neutral so I can put it with a lot of my outfits. In fact,” she got up and then rushed to the back where her bedroom was, “what do you think of it with this dress.”

  “I don’t know. Looks cool I guess.” I shrugged.

  She looked at it as it dangled from the hanger.

  “I think it’s perfect. Your father and I are going to dinner tonight, and this dress with that purse is going to be flawless.” She sat back down, lying the dress on the free couch.

  “Speaking of Charles, I saw him when I was just out getting the bag. He was with another bitch named Raquel.”

  “Oh.” My mom sipped her tea. “Was my purse the only thing you bought? Or did you get something for your beautiful fiancée? That proposal, baby— Cortez, was so sweet. Your father and I saw it on TV after your match.”

  “Christine, did you hear what the fuck I just said? He was with another woman, out to lunch, brunch, or whatever the fuck it is white folks call eating around this time.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t fucking know!” I barked. “Say you ain’t gon’ fuck with him no more! Be mad! Shit, something! Just don’t lock yaself up in that room to cry for days like usual!”

  “Listen.” She set her mug down after drinking some more of the tea. “I’ve been with your father for a very long time, Cortez. I’ve come to realize that if I want to be with him, I have to accept him the way that he is. He cannot be tied down, and the more I try to tie him down, the further apart we become.

  As long as he comes home to me, I’m fine. I wished I’d learned that back in the day, and we could’ve spent the last ten plus years together. Plus, he married me, and I have his only child.” She glowed, showing me her wedding ring as if I ain’t know they were married.

  “No you don’t. Manuel is his child.”

  “No, he isn’t.” She chuckled. “They got a DNA test long ago, and Charles was determined not to be the father.”

  “You believe that?” I frowned.

  “Yes I do. You wouldn’t know because you were just a toddler.” She drank her tea nonchalantly. “Thank you for the purse, sweetheart, but I’m going to go lie down. I want to be well rested for my dinner tonight.” She got up.

  “He don’t love you.” I shook my head. “If he did, he wouldn’t be doing this shit. You can say you don’t give a fuck, but you do. Nobody wants the person they love fucking with other people. I don’t give a fuck how goofy you are.”

  “He does love me, and do not say that. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I do. You think I don’t wanna be out fucking different bitches when I want to? But I don’t, because I love my girl, and I know being with her is more important than fifteen minutes of some new pussy, connected to a bitch I don’t give a fuck about.

  Not to mention, because I love her, I wouldn’t wanna be breaking her fucking heart and self-esteem because of another female. As her nigga, I’m supposed to do the opposite of that bullshit. I’m the main one in her life that should be making sure her ass is happy and confident as fuck.”

  “That’s sweet, but it won’t last. Once you get married, you’ll be acting just like you used to, so I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Aight.” I got up and grabbed the doorknob to leave.

  “Cortez, you see I’m happy. Just let me be happy.”

  Declining to face her ass or respond, I left out.

  A few days after…

  “Nice job today, Khalil.” Victor patted me on the back as I breathed heavily. “Those gunshots did virtually nothing to your stamina.”

  “Told y’all niggas.”

  Victor laughed, shaking his head.

  “I think it was because your mental was so strong, on top of your body. A lot of times when athletes get injured, all this stuff gets into their heads, making them feel and act weak. I never saw you doubt yourself, so that was surely a factor in your recovery.”

  “’Cause I’m that nigga.” I grinned, making him chortle. “Nah, but my girl helped me
stay confident.”

  “She’s a good one.” He nodded. “Have you gon’ back to therapy? You know you have to get clearance so Carson can start setting up another fight.”

  “I know.” I shook my head. I wasn’t in the mood to see Sylvia’s ass again. “I’m gonna go. Just wanted some time to relax and be with my girl and baby; my unborn too.” I drank some more of my protein drink. “I’m ready to get that eight million, but I got some more business offers that I want to handle before my next fight.”

  “I’m proud of you, Khalil. I remember when you were just a shit talking knucklehead who had just won an Olympic medal and hadn’t fought one professional match yet.”

  We both laughed in unison.

  “I was cocky then.”

  “You were, but you talked shit with so much zeal that I began to believe you.”

  “Have I lost since?”

  “Not once. And now you’re a lineal champion.”

  “Crazy.”

  As Victor and I shot the shit some more, my phone began to ring. I looked down to see the number wasn’t stored. I usually wouldn’t answer, but with all this money being thrown my way, I didn’t want to miss shit.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this a Cortez Khalil?”

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Dr. Daniels from Stokes Medical Center. We have your girlfriend here—”

  I quickly hung up on the nigga, grabbing my bag and running out of the fucking gym. I didn’t even have time to tell Victor a damn thing.

  Throwing my shit into the whip, I started it then sped out, driving the whole way shirtless, while ignoring my phone. I didn’t give a fuck about why she was there; I just needed to be by her ASAP.

  My fucking heart was pounding as all kinds of shit rushed through my mind. My kid was just fine; we just saw it at the doctor. If my son was gone, that bitch ass doctor was a dead hoe for not seeing whatever the fuck she was supposed to see when we last visited.