Kupid gave me a sideways glance. “Don’t be looking at my ass either.”
“That lil’ shit,” I joked.
“You wish it were little,” she snorted.
I shook my head rapidly. “No. No. The. Fuck. I. Don’t.”
Kupid acted as if she was annoyed wit’ my ass, but I could see the chewing of her lips to avoid smiling. She was fighting that shit so badly. My dick was cuttin’ up bad in these shorts, watching her cheeks jiggle.
“Yo, what the fuck that cover-up was supposed to cover up cause…”
“Don’t start, Crown,” she warned, cutting me off. I chuckled quietly.
Once we arrived where we were snorkeling on Love Beach, I paid for the experience, and we were handed our gear. My mouth watered as I watched Kupid remove the cover-up. Her brown skin glistened under the scorching sun.
“Aye!” I snapped at the instructor. “Watch yo’ eyes. This my damn wife!”
Kupid tittered. “Boy.”
The instructor turned around when he saw that I wasn’t playing. Once we had this tight shit on, he turned around, and we followed him to the water. I noticed big ass turtles in the water and swallowed a lump in my throat. My eyes bounced around, searching for sharks. I heard nothing the instructor was saying. Kupid nudged me.
“You look scared. You can sit this out. I promise I won’t go online and tell your fans how youpunked outof snorkeling.” Kupid stuck her tongue out.
I frowned down at her beautiful ass. “Ain’t shit punk ‘bout me, wife.”
She mushed my head before I could grab her wrist. “I am not your wife, Crown. Stop saying that before these folks run to the blogs.”
“Stop caring what mothafuckas say, Kupid,” I countered, rolling my eyes like she do.
“You’re stupid,” she hooted, covering her mouth. “Let’s get in this water, scaredy cat.”
“You gon be scared keep playin’. You look like a runner.” I chuckled at myself.
“You won’t find out,” Kupid smacked, snaking her neck.
I nodded. “Aight.”
The water was cold as fuck, but once we got used to it, it didn’t faze us. I laughed at how Kupid squealed wheneversomething brushed against her in the water. I actually fucked wit’ the shit unless it looked like it wanted to bite. They didn’t want these hands. If I wasn’t a rapper, I could be the next Mike Tyson.
Kupid was dodging a big fish, and I was standing behind her. She backed up on my dick and quickly jumped forward. Kupid stiffened up.
“Yeaaaah.” I guffawed. “Don’t get scared now.”
After another thirty minutes of snorkeling, we took our wrinkled asses back to the townhouse to change so we could put some food on our stomachs. Instead of going out to a restaurant, a chef came to us. Tonight, we were going to a nightclub. Kupid complained about needing a nap.
Kupid showered in the master bathroom while I showered in the other. The male chef had come out about ten minutes after my shower. While he started dinner, I hopped on my game. My phone rang as soon as I sat down in the living area. Usually, when I was on vacation, even if it was for two or three days, I didn’t answer the phone for anyone on my team. They knew that too, but I went ahead and answered for Trae’s ass. I put him on speaker as I started a game.
“’Sup, nigga,” I answered.
“Nigga, I thought you went alone. You took the social media manager chick?” Straight to the point.
“Nigga, fuck you in my business fa? Watch yo’ mouth, too. My shit on speaker.” I didn’t want Kupid walking in on Trae talkin’ shit about her. I wouldn’t have let the shit get far anyway.
“You gon break that lady’s heart, Crown. Then what?” Trae huffed.
“I ain’t breakin’ shit, Trae. Fuck you talmbout? That’s my damn wife anyway. Don’t be surprised if we come back and she wearin’ my last name.” I snickered at the thought.
Trae laughed. “You a nut, bro. Anyway, I really hit you up to let you know they want to start touring as soon as you get back. I’m currently working on the city lineup and contacting the venues. You coo’ wit’ dat?”