Page 23 of Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 1

When she finished, her bottom lip poked out, and I felt like that shit was sexy as fuck. I wasn’t even no kissing ass nigga. I swear shit had to have been fuckin’ official for me to put my lips on a woman. I wanted to know all types of shit, like where your mouth been, I wanted to know how clean a woman is, all of that shit before I put my lips on them. But the way she had her bottom lip poking out like that, I wanted to kiss her ass.

We were close; real fuckin’ close. Pretty much to the point that her chest was against mine. I figured that if she wanted me to move, she would have pushed me back or at least tried to squeeze out of the way I had her cornered against the table. Because she didn’t, I figured she ain’t want me to move. She was looking up at me with those gray eyes, and I could tell I’d hurt her feelings with some of the shit that I said to her tonight, so I ended up reaching down and cuffing her chin.

Fuck it, I leaned in and kissed her lips. I was standing there, killing myself with wanting to do it anyway, so I just went in for the kill. She looked at me with shocked eyes that I’d done that shit. Still, I saw a look on her face like she wanted more, so I lowered my head and kissed her again. She had soft ass lips. Her lips were really full, so I felt like I was burying my lips between some pillows. I felt like I was in the fuckin’ restaurant wilding, kissing and shit like I was in middle school again. I tried to pull away, but she put her small hand on the back of my head and pulled me back to her.

My strong hands landed around her waist, and I lifted her up, then sat back down and pulled her into my lap.

“No. Oh, my God. What am I doing? What am I doing? No. No,” she asked as she finally broke from the kiss.

She tried to jump out of my lap, but I kept my hands on her waist. I ain’t want her to move.

“This isn’t what I do. I promise I don’t just go around kissing on random men. I’ve never even kissed anyone before. Here I am, in one voice, I’m telling you that I’m not going to be like the rest of these women to further stroke your ego, then I allow you to get me out of my element like this. Let me stand up. I’m embarrassing myself, and I’m obviously losing my morals. Come on. Let’s see if my car is ready,” she rambled on, still trying to get out of my lap, but I wouldn’t let her.

“Stop trying to fuckin’ run from me, Normani! The car ain’t ready! It ain’t even been an hour yet! You acting like I just fucked you in a bathroom or something. We kissed, that’s it. I could tell that this was your first time kissing. Ima be honest with you; you got some nice, pretty ass lips, but you ain’t know what the fuck you were doing. I’m not putting you in the category with no other woman, so you ain’t gotta worry about me having no ill thoughts about you. Just sit across the table from me and let me find out more about you. I promise I’m going to watch how the fuck I say certain shit. If you feel like I’m underestimating you, I ain’t doing it on purpose. That’s just how I talk, but ima work on the shit. Aight, yo?” I asked.

She was sitting sideways in my lap, and my hands were around her waist, just holding her firmly. When she didn’t answer me quick enough, I bounced my leg with her still in my lap. She eventually nodded, letting me know that she would finish chilling with me until her car was ready. I finally let her go, and she quickly stood up and sat back down on the bench.

“Let’s start over, aight? Tell me about yourself, Normani,” I said, this time in a kinder tone and a whole different approach.

“My name is Normani Davidson. Like you know already, I’m a pediatrician. I’m twenty-six, and I’m the daughter of two pastors. I have an older sister named Naomi. Ummm, I went to FAMU for both of my degrees. I’m an AKA, as you can tell from my car. I write children’s books, and when I have free time, I like to watch romance movies. I’m single because I just haven’t found the one yet. I’m not even looking for the perfect man, just someone who can treat me right and someone who my parents will approve of, mainly my father,” she said.

Normani didn’t really say a lot, but at the same time, she said a lot.

“I’m assuming your father wouldn’t approve of me,” I said.

She was a good girl whose daddy probably wanted her to marry the President of the United States or some shit.

“I doubt it,” she honestly told me.

“Let me ask you something else then. Whoever you end up giving a chance, you gonna have to run it through your daddy, or are you grown enough to make a decision on who you want to be with?” I questioned.

If she said that her daddy’s opinion mattered over hers, I would just end this shit right here. It wouldn’t even be worth the chase. I wasn’t about to be in competition with nobody’s fuckin’ daddy!

“I’m grown. Of course, I would want my parents’ blessing, but if I ever fall in love, and my daddy doesn’t approve for whatever reason, I won’t let his feelings ruin a good thing for me. Look behind you,” she said.

I looked behind me, and a couple was sitting in a booth, still in their work clothes. They had a small baby with them who was probably six or seven months old. I looked for a few moments, and then I turned back to look at Normani. I wanted to see where she was going with this shit.

“I want that. I want that type of love. When you left to pick up the food, I was discreetly watching them. The wife was holding their daughter, and the husband was looking at them with such adoration. I’ve watched my father look at my mother like that for so many years, and that’s what I want. Would you rather me call you Billionaire or Billion?” she asked, switching up the conversation.

“Shit, whatever you prefer. Most people call me Billion,” I told her.

“I want the simple things in life, Billionaire. I’m not the woman that a man has to spoil rotten and—”

“A man supposed to spoil you rotten, though,” I said, cutting her off.

“Not every man can afford to do that. Besides, I can spoil myself,” she said.

“But it’ll feel a little better when somebody does it for you. What else you want?” I asked.

I liked listening to her talk.

She had a smooth, soft voice. The type of voice that could put a nigga to sleep. It was crazy how I told her that everybody calls me Billion, yet she chose to call me Billionaire. That shit right there spoke volumes for a nigga. She was showing me that she wasn’t going to be just anybody in life; instead, she was going to be someone who stood out.

“Here’s the part where you walk me back to my car,” she said and released a sigh. “I’m a virgin. Saving myself until marriage, honestly. I need somebody who can respect that,” she told me, and I wasn’t shocked to tell you the truth.

“Keep talking. What else?” I asked.

“That doesn’t turn you off?” she quizzed.

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