Page 46 of Certified Pressure
She swallowed hard and nodded once, like her body understood more than her mouth could explain.
“You sure I’m the nigga you wanna take that next step with?”
She didn’t say a word. She just nodded again.
I leaned in and kissed her soft, so gentle that even I was caught off guard by how natural that shit felt. I heard a few gasps behind us, but I ain’t break the moment. When I pulled back, I met her gaze and whispered, “Then stay.”
She exhaled slowly and stepped to the side.
Now it was down to Big Taff and Imani Blaze.
Both of them was holdin’ their composure, but I could feel the heat in the room shift.
I looked at Imani first. “You got a smart-ass mouth. I don’t know if I can adjust to that shit. You gon’ have to learn who runnin’ shit here.”
Then I turned to Taffy. Her eyes held mine, like she was already braced for impact.
“Taffy,” I said, walkin’ up to her.
I grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “You cool as fuck. You real. You loud, you funny, and I actually enjoy havin’ you around. But I ain’t the nigga for you.”
She smiled through it, but I knew that shit stung. I hated moments like this, but it had to be done. Truth was… she too damn big for me. Like, I know everybody got they taste, and she probably the prize in somebody else’s world, but in mine? Hell nah. I need somebody I can lift, flip and grip on instinct. Ain’t no way I’mma be tryna blow a big woman’s back out and pull a hamstring in the process. That ain’t sexy, that’s dangerous.
Her eyes flickered with pain, but she smiled through it and leaned in to kiss my neck, soft and slow. “If you ever change your mind and decide to step with a real woman… I’m just one call away.”
I winced a little and gave her a short nod. “I’ll remember that.”
She turned and walked off with her head high.
I looked back at Imani and tilted my head. “Get your mean ass over here.”
She walked toward me, humbled now, not sayin’ too much.
“What exactly are you here for?” I asked.
“I’m here foryou, one hundred percent,” she said, tryna sound all sincere.
“Then act like it,” I told her. “You don’t need to be focused on nobody else but me.”
She nodded, kissed my cheek, and joined the rest. And just like that, fourteen was still standin’.
And still, it seemed like we was just gettin’ started.
A couple hours after I dropped Big Taff, I was at the table with my fourteen flavors, tryna see who still had taste.
The dinin’ room looked like a damn press conference. There was a long glass table, velvet chairs, sunlight spillin’ in from the tall-ass windows, and enough luxury plated in front of us to feed a king’s last supper. The chefs had done they big one. We was eatin’ roasted duck glazed in plum sauce, grilled lobster tails with lemon herb butter, truffle mac and cheese, wild mushroom risotto, and some thick-ass crab cakes sittin’ on a bed of creamed corn that was so good it made me close my eyes for a second. On the side, they had these lamb lollipops charred just right with a mint chimichurri sauce that hit so damn hard, Renza had stopped talkin’ for five minutes just to eat in peace.
Kay’Lo had already kicked his shoes off under the table and was leaned back with a toothpick in his mouth like he wasn’t tryna impress nobody. I was at the head of the table, posted up with a glass of champagne in one hand and my fork in the other, lettin’ the women entertain me.
And they was doin’ exactly that.
Kashmere had the whole left side of the table laughin’.
Toni Roc and Imani Blaze was sittin’ close, both with light flour dusted on their forearms from helpin’ the chefs earlier. I ain’t ask ’em to, but they volunteered. Said they ain’t too cute to get in the kitchen, and I respected that. The cornbread muffinsthey helped whip up came out perfect—golden with a lil honey glaze on top, and soft in the middle like they been passed down through generations. Toni slid me one when I reached for it, like she already knew which piece I wanted. Imani ain’t say much, but she stayed watchin’ me out the corner of her eye like she had somethin’ to prove without speakin’ on it.
Renae Dior was movin’ quiet but solid. Every time my glass got low, she refilled it before I had to ask. She didn’t say a word, but just handled it like a woman who knew how to move in a room without beggin’ for attention.
Then outta nowhere, Chanel Banks got up from her spot across the table and walked her extra ass around just to rub my back while I was eatin’. Her fingers trailed down slow, like she was tryna get a rise outta somebody. Then she leaned in and kissed my neck real gentle.
