Page 34 of A Kingpin's Weakness
“Don’t kill nobody!” Rich called out behind me.
Too late for that. Stormi was about to get every dude in this bitch shot if they even looked at her the wrong way. I walked over, calm but heated. Straight through the crowd, ignoring the music, the lights, everything. My eyes were locked on them.
“Homie,” I said when I reached them, “you like your hand?”
“Huh?” he asked trying to hear me over the music.
“I said you like your fucking hand?” this time annoyed that I had to repeat myself on some shit I shouldn’t have even been asking.
The guy looked confused, probably drunk. I didn’t care.
“Move your hand off her ass before you lose it.”
“Seth, really?” Stormi snapped, her voice tight with irritation.
“I mean the lady doesn’t mind,” buddy said, smirking like he knew something.
Still hadn’t moved. Alright. Bet. I grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand down flat against the bar.
“Aye, man” he started, but the words died in his throat the moment he saw me pull my gun.
“Seth!” Stormi yelled.
“’Scuse me,” I told the bartender like we were having a casual convo.
Then I pulled the trigger. One shot. Right through his hand. The whole club froze. Music cut. Screams popped off. Bodies jumped. But I ain’t flinch. I lifted my hand and motioned to Southside’s security. “Get this nigga the fuck outta here.”
Then I picked up the shot glass that had to be his and tossed it back like nothing just happened.
“DJ, cut that music back on. Let’s party.” The DJ ain’t miss a beat. “Happy birthday to Southside! Y’all, please don’t piss Seth off tonight!”
The crowd fell right back into the vibe like the last sixty seconds didn’t even exist.
Stormi? She was fuming.
“Have you lost your mind, Seth?”
“No,” I said, cool as ever. “But you clearly have. What the fuck you doin’ lettin' dudes touch you like that?”
“Seth, I’m grown and single.”
“Oh, okay. Trina.” I grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the section.
“Wait,” she said, trying to twist out my grip. “I came with Ari and her friends.”
“Then tell them to come on.”
Stormi turned around and waved Ari down, who’d been fake acting like she wasn’t watching everything. Her and three of her friends trailed behind us as I led Stormi back through the crowd.
Once inside the section, I didn’t waste time. I pulled her into the far corner with me. Because yeah, we were definitely about to talk.
"You look good as fuck tonight," I told Stormi, leaning back against the velvet of the club couch as my eyes took in every inch of her.
The dim lighting bounced off her mocha-caramel skin, giving her this glow that made it hard to look away. She had on makeup tonight. It was a light beat, subtle… but honestly, she didn’t need it. Stormi always looked like something out of a dream.
Her hair wasn’t natural and curly like usual. She had on a sleek, straight black wig parted down the middle, falling all the way down her back past her waist, kissing the top of her ass.
And her ass? That white dress she had on was holding on for dear life, hugging every curve, every dip. Her breasts sat up like they had their own attitude, round and proud, just begging for my hands. I could’ve devoured her right here in the middle of the club if it wasn’t for the fact I’d have to shoot every man who dared to look.
