Page 8 of Rah
“Ooo! Yeah! Bring me some steak tacos from Maxwell’s.”
“Bet.”
I hung up, biting my lip in frustration as I tried to figure out how in the hell I was going to get out of the house without Solae having a fit.
There wasn’t a deep explanation as to why I was playing these women. I wasn’t torn between the two at all. It was simple; I wasn’t shit. That’s just the type of man that I was. I loved being with women and more than one. The attention was exhilarating. I was passionately in love with how they served me. I felt like the man having women at my beck and call, loving me and holding their breath until the moment I graced them with my presence.
Ever since I was young, I had been juggling multiple women with ease. It was a powerful feeling to be needed and adored by so many women. I was so madly in love with having so many hearts at the tip of my fingers that I did whatever I could to romance my way into their hearts just to keep that feeling of power over them.
Relationships had always been a game of control.
And I always won.
2
KAHLANI
Iwas standing in front of the free-standing mirror by the dresser, tugging at the hem of my red Target polo and smoothing it over my hips, when I caught Moses watching me from the bed. He was stretched out with his bare chest against the sheets, grinning like I was putting on a show just for him.
I lost my train of thought looking at him.
“Damn, baby, you really gotta leave right now?” he asked groggily.
His eyes traveled over me like they had nowhere better to be, and I caught him rubbing his length through the sheet.
I giggled. “Yes, I have to leave right now.”
“Damn. That ass is looking good in those pants.”
I didn’t believe a word he said. Not all the way. I mean, yeah, I knew I had curves. I had wide hips, thick thighs, and a nicely shaped ass. But I also had stretch marks from having a baby and a squishy, pudge in my stomach that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times I tried to diet and exercise. Inthis era of BBLs, fake breasts, and tummy tucks, it was hard to believe I stacked up. Especially when my man was the hood-famous rapper on the come-up. Every time I was out with him, I caught women staring, whispering, or straight-up trying to get his attention. And they were all the kind of women who looked like they’d just stepped off Instagram with the kind of bodies that were paid for.
Moses was surrounded by them because of video shoots, club appearances, and even just hanging with his boys. They thought he’d be the next rap god, so they wanted my man. And that little nagging, insecure voice in my head kept whispering that one day, he would leave me for them.
Watching me in the mirror, Moses pushed the covers back and got out of bed. My eyes followed his 6’3” frame, drinking in the way his broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist and how every muscle was so defined. The rich dark tone of his skin made the diamond chain around his neck gleam even more. His locs hung over his shoulders as he moved toward me, and I couldn’t stop watching him through the mirror, thinking he looked like he’d been sculpted just to tempt me. His arms slid around my waist and pulled me back against him. I felt his body heat soak through my clothes. He pressed his lips to the side of my neck, and the soft graze of his mouth made me leak.
“One day, you won’t have to put this uniform on,” he murmured against my skin. I caught his eyes in the mirror as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “I mean it.”
I smiled at him. “I know you do, baby.”
Moses got his money hustling and through his music. I still worked because, for years, we struggled, and I had PTSD of going broke again, so I worked to save up. But my baby worked hard to take care of me and our son, and just as hard in the studio. He chased his dreams like his life depended on it. Hehated to see me put on this uniform. I think it made him feel like I didn’t think he could make it.
Moses was doing well enough to keep us comfortable. His music streams were bringing in some money, his videos on YouTube pulled millions of views, and the content he dropped on social media always found a way to go viral. It wasn’t enough money to replace his hustle, though.
Moses paid all the bills, but getting by wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to be able to spoil me and our son without ever thinking twice about the price tag. Whether he was able to do that with music or in the streets, he didn’t care.
Not only did Moses take care of our household, but he was also wealthy in dedication and unconditional love. That meant more to me than anything a man with deep pockets could ever give.
I’d met Moses five years ago, when my cousin, Solae, introduced him to me. He was her boyfriend, Rah’s cousin. Moses and I have been together ever since and have a three-year-old son, Trent, who is the perfect mix of us both. And as much as the world seemed ready to throw temptation in our faces, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but Moses.
I turned in his arms and slid my hands up his bare chest until they looped around his neck. I kissed him deep, slow, and hungry, letting my tongue sweep against his until I felt his low groan vibrate between us.
When I pulled back just enough to speak, I told him, “What we have is enough. It’s more than enough.”
Relief and need danced in his eyes, and then his hands were at my waist, pulling me closer. When his mouth found mine again, it was more urgent this time, and his fingers toyed with the hem of my polo.
“Moses,” I murmured against his lips, catching his hands for a moment, “I have to be at work—”
“Nah,” he cut in gently as his thumbs stroked my hips. “I need you so bad right now. Let me show you.”
