Page 20 of The One He Desires

“Okay. I can admit when I’m wrong. This ain’t no regular BLT. Dang.”

I nod as I momentarily get caught up in watching Journee as she takes another bite of the stacked sandwich. Unable to stop myself, I gently swipe the sauce from the corner of Journee’s lip. Our eyes dance as I lick it from my finger, and somehow the flavor tastes better than what I’ve had so far.

“Mm. That’s good.” My words are as thick as the air in the room as Journee’s eyes flash with either agreement, awe, or interest.

“Yes, it is.” Journee takes another bite of her sandwich as I force myself to disconnect our eye contact.

My dick twitches, as my mind fills with thoughts of not only laying Journee back on this couch but also smearing the sauce on several parts of her body. My mouth waters as I try to concentrate on eating my sandwich.

Down, big fella. We ain’t here to be disrespectful, and we definitely ain’t about to mess up the opportunity to do this again.

I mentally coach myself as my thoughts swirl with wayward thoughts of how the sauce on this BLT would taste from Journee’s neck.

“How’s your day been? You didn’t have to be in court today?”

I finish the bite of food in my mouth as I try to swipe my teeth clean of any remnants with my tongue before I answer her questions.

“It’s been pretty uneventful, and no, I didn’t have to be in court. I will be tomorrow, though. Today is my prep day.”

“Oh no. I don’t want to delay your process.”

Journee grabs the paper and wraps it around the remaining portion of the sandwich as I chuckle before I grab her hands.

“You’re not delaying anything. We’re in your territory, remember?” I smirk.

Revelation shines in Journee’s eyes as the heat from her gaze somehow eases onto my hands that have yet to release her from my grip. Comfort and something foreign war as I finally release her.

“How have things been for you today? How’s my Sweet Face?”

Your Sweet Face?

I ignore the statement as I resume eating like Journee and I are talking about the dramatic change in our weather.

“Business is great. Milan has been giving me a run for my money. I thought people talked about the terrible twos. But there are days when I want to snatch what little hair I have out of my head. She’s lucky she’s cute and her daddy ain’t shit.”

My mind spins with thoughts upon hearing the latter part of her statements. Any man who chooses to be an ain’t-shit man where his child is concerned isn’t a man at all. The spark of heat in Journee’s eyes tells me that something is amiss with the boy who got her pregnant.

“Let’s put a pin in that topic for now. What do you do for fun? When you’re not out here slaying motherhood and being a boss?”

There will be plenty of time to find out the details of the male species I already have an issue with. Milan is a beautiful little girl, and if she were mine, there would never come a day when I wasn’t in her presence. But it’s cool. If I have it my way, Milan or Journee won’t feel that neglect for much longer.

I’m scrolling social media, minding my business, when an inbox notification pops up on my screen. Nostalgia and curiosity make me pause when I see the name on my screen. Of all the names BN could set for his identification, this one stuns and irritates me. Not to mention the profile picture of him crouching down in a position synonymous with jailhouse poses. He’s wearing netted pants and a pink-and-white flower shirt. The buttons are undone, and his chest is out as my eyes attempt to make out the ink on his chest.

“Well, I declare,” I say, sounding like my great aunt as my fingers move unconsciously to open the messages awaiting.

Big Bussy Noble:

Aye, I’m still waiting for your ass. What’s good?

Ducking and dodging me won’t make me go away. I’ve been to your little business twice, and each time your guard dog has blocked access. Let’s be adult about this shit, Journee.

I roll my eyes harder than physically possible when the new message pops up, because, if nothing else, BN must have gained another three inches during his jail stay.

“Little dick having ass,” I grumble.

It wasn’t little when you rode it like a mechanical bull. Maybe that was the day you got pregnant, proving that weenies still fulfill appetites.

I growl and exit the inbox without answering BN, my attitude increasing tenfold. I have no clue why he’s all of a sudden interested in his child after giving us his butt to kiss for four years. I swear God doesn’t make men like he used to. Back in the day, His creations got the upper echelon brand of ingredients. I can only assume He took a nap the day BN’s turn to be formed came. I log off social media and get ready to toss my phone beside me when it rings.