“You not going no fucking where, Trouble.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“When you stop calling me Flocco.”
“I’m not calling you shit anymore. I want you out of my fucking life.”
“Too late, baby girl. We’re locked in.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes the fuck you are.”
“Move–” I tried pushing past him again.
I didn’t make it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t see a nigga really trying to fuck with your ignorant ass?”
“Can’t you see that I am recovering from a nigga? Hm? The last thing I want is another one. Hounding me. Telling me what to do. Where to piss. How to shit. When to speak. Where to go. How to be me. I’m not interested, Flocco.
“So, save your soul because I will ruin it. I will ruin you. I am a dangerous woman right now. I’m so far from what you need. You should be putting distance between us. Yet, you keep getting closer to the fire. Like a moth. When you burn, don’t say I never told you so, because I have. I am… right n–”
He crashed into my lips. I reciprocated his desire. He tasted so good. He felt so good. So warm. So inviting.
I chastised myself for leaving a weak spot for him to get past my guard. It wasn’t strong enough or maybe he was stronger.
“Flocco,” I moaned against his lips.
“I want my dick sucked, Hyph,” he whispered, throaty and deep.
My knees hit the pavement hastily. I couldn’t resist his demand. I wanted to please him. I wanted to please him well.
Flocco was draped in denim. A pair of shorts with a Gucci belt laced through the loops. A distressed denim vest that was open, showing off his shirtless chest and artful body ink.
On his head was a burgundy fitted cap.
On his feet were burgundy and white gangster Nikes.
A rolex rested on his wrist.
A gold chain on his chest.
The rope was full of diamonds.
Gold didn’t cover all his pearly white teeth, but a bar was on top of the bottom half with his canines dipped in gold completely.
“Shit, baby.”
His dick was out of his pants and in my mouth in an instant. It was iconic.
Veiny.
