Page 37 of In Too Deep

“Because I know the second I let you out of my site, I’ll never see you again. You’ll haul ass and leave me in the dust. I told you what I wanted from the beginning, so stop trying to fight it. This is how I got to have you, despite all it took to get you here. Let me show you the other side of me. One that no one else has ever seen before, Juicy. Let me court you, ma. Take care of you, by you flowers and shit, show you that them niggas you’re used to fuckin’ wit’ is some buster ass niggas.”

His eyes held a depth that drew me in, and I was captivated by the intensity of his gaze. If I could melt between the floor, Iwould. His words had me crunching on hope and possibly living a good life. It was wrong and I knew it. I’m not a backstabber, but what would do you do when the guy who could have any girl in the world chooses you? Shit, I felt stuck too—captivated and enthralled in his orbit, floating on a planet with my eyes gazing off into the galaxy, feeling hypnotized. If I chose to decline, what would happen next? I go back to my struggling ass life where I’m barely making ends meet, robbing Peter to pay Paul, and constantly hauling my ass to MLGW begging for an extension on my light bill? Romelo was paid with long money, so why not let him trick off in a exchange for a few licks on my ass and pussy. The only hunch would be not to fall too deep.

Stabbing my fork into the salmon, I opened my mouth and allowed the taste to swindle around in my mouth. I was trying to be cute, meanwhile starvation was kicking my ass, and I wanted to dog this shit out. I agreed to this deal with no questions asked, because in exchange for money, sex came along, and I was smart enough to know that I had to give a little before receiving a lot. If Romelo wanted to trick off on his girlfriend’s cousin, who was I to stop him? It’s not like he was a disgusting pig, imposing as Nate from the movieSet It Off,and I was Stoney. I’d milk him for everything he had and stack up my money for the time being, until he decided to cut ties because men with a rapport like his like to keep their eggs in more than one basket. Whenever he decided to cut me off, I'd be swimming in more money than I could have ever imagined.

We sat in the living room, on opposite ends of his cream sectional. The television was on, broadcasting a movie that neither of us was tuned into, we were semi enjoying the company we were keeping—both of us enthused, smacking on dinner and sipping on bitter red wine.

“Stop eating pretty and stuff that moon pie shaped face,” he muttered beside me, sitting on the living room couch.

Compliments of him, dinner was served. He knew his way around the kitchen. In front of me, on a foldable stand, was stuffed salmon, lumpy garlic mashed potatoes, crispy garlic potatoes, and a slice of lemon. A glass of red wine suited better than any other beverage.

“I’m not eating pretty,” I lied. “It’s not even all that,” I lied again.

“Bullshit,” he muttered with a mouth full of food. “My mama still can’t compete with me when it comes to cooking stuffed salmon, and she’s a picky eater, who calls my food the bomb.”

“Not everybody will tell you the truth,” I stated as I picked up the wine glass to help me wash my food down.

“It’s two places your favorite nigga can’t fuck with me at—the kitchen and the bedroom. I’m a fuckin’ beast,” he boasted.

I shrugged. “If you want to throw down in the kitchen, I’d bet my life on it that I can cook better than you. As far as the bedroom, I’ll be the judge of that. I’m a big girl, and I know good food when I eat it. As far as the dick, you better show out when the time comes.”

Eyeing him, I gulped with a straight face, not believing what I was saying. It had to be the wine talking and the cause of me using flirtatious gestures. I’d blame it on any other reason besides not wanting to admit my attraction to him.

“Sound like a threat,” he paused, the fork clinking against the wooden food tray.

“It’s not.”

He reached for a napkin and wiped his hands with it, while eying me like prey. “Put me to the test and I can show you the difference between a boy and a man.”

I grinned, wrapping my hands around the cool wine glass stem. “Sounds like a bet, then.”

“What does the winner get?”

Cutting my eyes at him, in warp speed, I emptied the wine glass. The bitter taste was tart, so I slapped my tongue against the roof of my mouth a few times before answering.

“The winner gets to decide.”

“Only one condition.” He smiled, that panty wetting grill getting the best of me, and held up one finger. “I want you to cook naked.”

I guffawed, my eyes damn near bulging out of my head. “Wait, w-what?”

“I want that pussy and asshole winking at me every time you bend over. That fat ass booty need to be jiggling too. When I brush past you to rub my dick up against it, I want you to spread your ass cheeks apart and place my big ass dick in that tight, wet ass pussy.”

“And what do I get upfront? I think your request sounds more like a winner grant. You’ll be too distracted watching my jiggling ass and pretty pussy saunter around to focus on cooking your dish, beating me. I need something in return.”

Placing my hands on the sides of the foldable table, I pushed it aside and stood up. My hands clasped around the bottom of my shirt, lifting over my belly that was tucked inside my black tights. I dipped my head, lifting it above my curly hair, hands grazing over my cold pebbled nipples. The cool air wafting from the AC sent chills up my spine, or maybe it was the lust filled stare Romelo was giving me. His eyes gazing over my frame as if he had room in his stomach to feast off me, aside from the salmon and side dishes he prepared.

The sensation of electricity shot through me as my nipples hardened, signaling a need for tending and soothing. I dropped the shirt at my feet, then slowly pulled my flare leggings down. The back of my thumbs touched my smooth skin, running them down my thighs. My strawberry legs were nice and moisturized. I bent down further, taking my eyes away from Romelo’s, to step out of my leggings. My toes wiggled under the thin thread. His wish was granted, without a win. I stood in front of him, in all of my naked glory, my skin jiggling with each move I made. My clit began to thump, sensing the tongue she’d become acquainted with a while ago. It was like Romelo’s tongue had a sensor on it, and my clit detected it. I could feel my pussy leaking juice, seeping down my thighs.

“Go in the kitchen,” he nodded, his eyes flickering to the warm glow emanating from the entryway.

Obeying, I sauntered into the kitchen. My booty jiggling as I swayed my hips from side to side. The sound of his Prada sneakers slapping against the ground pounded heavily behind me, just inches away. Reaching the island, I stopped and leaned against it, wincing from the cool tile. My hair flipped down the right side of my face as I crooked my neck and rested the side of my face in my palm. Romelo leaned against the entryway, folding his arms over his chest and spreading his legs apart. The black skinny jeans he wore showcased his meaty dick, mimicking a third leg between his bony thighs.

“Go ‘head and show out for me,” he smirked, cocking his chin and tilting his head to the side. “Whip up that good shit. I got room for a steak, medium well, with a side of gushy pussy to sip juice from when I get thirsty.”

“Coming right up,” I nodded and turned on my heels. “Steak is light work, by the way.”

“Just make sure you cook my shit right.”

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