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“Look up, beautiful,” I said and watched as her eyes scanned the outside.
The second her eyes landed on me, she smiled. Normani walked fast to get to me, and once she was close enough, she dropped her bags and jumped into my arms. I held the flowers in one hand while I held her up with my other hand. Her arms were wrapped around my neck, and I soaked up her scent before I leaned in and kissed her. Everyone looking probably thought that Normani and I hadn’t seen each other in months or some shit, but really, it had been only three whole days and a little bit of this morning.
We were standing in front of my Porsche, kissing each other like I liked to do when I would bounce her up and down on my dick. Ain’t shit matter right now. The only thing I cared about was being around my shorty and being happy that she made it back safely to daddy. After about two minutes of nonstop kissing, Normani pulled away from me. I ain’t want to put her down just yet, so I kept her in my arms. With a smile, she wiped away the lip-gloss that had gotten on my lips from kissing her.
“If you weren’t out here waiting on me, I swear I was going to break up with you. You play so much,” she said, all the while, still smiling.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty,” I said, putting her down and admiring her again.
My tongue was damn near hanging out of my mouth as I watched all this chocolate standing right before me. I handed her the roses, and she smiled as she smelled them.
“Thank you, baby,” she cooed.
I pulled up my sagging jeans and went to pick up her things that she had dropped on the floor in a rush to get to me. In no time, I had them in the backseat, and then I helped her into the car. I’d been smoking on the way over, and the smell had cleared out a little bit, which was good because Normani hated the smell of weed. She said the shit gave her a headache. Once I was in my seat, a few seconds later, I pulled the car out of the crowded pick-up station.
“Ima swing by my grandma’s crib. She’s cooking today. You okay with going over there? Lil Bill and Khari already over there,” I said to Normani.
She had her visor down and was fixing her hair.
“I’m fine with that. I’m starving anyway. I hope she’s cooking some of her fried chicken. Baby, your grandma food be soooo good,” Normani said, damn near about to have an orgasm in her seat over some food.
She pulled the visor down and looked at me as I laughed at her. We got to the light, and all I could do was stare. I was looking at her ring finger and mentally trying to see if the ring I got matched. If it didn’t, I could always get it resized. Listen, I wanted to ask Normani to marry me a month ago, but she was always thinking some shit over, so I was a little scared that she would fuck up a nigga’s pride and say no because maybe she felt like shit was moving too fast.
The other day at the airport, when I was about to drop her off, the only reason I got so defensive when she questioned me about what would happen next between us is that in her absence, I planned to get the ring I had been drooling over. It was time. A nigga ain’t have to ride this shit out for a couple more months for me to know that Normani was the one I wanted to marry. I had the ring already. It was stuffed in the couch downstairs at my house.
Nah, I wasn’t about to pop the question while we were at my grandma’s house because Normani and I discussed the topic of marriage. She told me that when she got proposed to, she would want it to be a moment with just her and whoever was proposing. You know those videos where the man proposes and the woman has all her homegirls and family in the background, screaming and shit, knocking each other over, trying to hug up on her and see the ring? Yeah, my shorty said she didn’t want all that, which was cool because I was such a private ass nigga myself, so I would want that moment to be intimate for us as well.
I really ain’t know when I would pop the question. Normani was about to go on her break from work in a couple more weeks, and I was thinking about going somewhere out of the country with her, but I felt like that was too predictable and expected. I wanted her to not even have a feeling that I would drop down on one knee and ask her to marry me.
“What? Why you looking at me like that?” she asked as she sat sideways in her chair, so she could look at me.
“No reason. You just look good today,” I told her, and she put a playful frown on her face.
“Today? I don’t look good to you every day?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Every fuckin’ day, ma,” I said before squeezing her thigh.
My hand lingered there for a moment, and then I moved it up until it got to the band of her tights. I wasn’t like most niggas who would hold onto her thighs while I was driving. I wanted to hold onto that pussy, especially since I hadn’t seen that shit, touched on it, smelled it, licked it, or fucked on it in three fuckin’ days.
Normani stepped out of her shell two nights ago and sent nudes to my phone that I kept in my private album. She even let me Facetime her, and we had some quick phone sex, but I had been fiending to feel the real thing. My hands slipped into her tights, and I cuffed her pussy through her lace panties.
“Damn. Let me pull the car over for a second.” I groaned, wanting to get up in there right quick.
She laughed and pulled my hand out.
“Billionaire, no! It’s broad daylight out here,” she said, holding her hands on my wrist, so I wouldn’t try to be slick and slip it back inside her.
“So! Ain’t nobody going to know what I’m doing through these tints,” I said.
“Tonight, papi,” she said, and I sucked my teeth. She let out a laugh and then shook her head. “I can’t believe I got you begging me, Billionaire. Just think, when I met you, you were so mean and standoffish. Now look! Mr. Big, bad Billion is begging little ole me to hit it on the side of the road,” she boasted.
I laughed as she talked her shit.
“And Dr. Normani Davidson with her uppity ass done fucked around and got turned the fuck out. You was mean to a nigga too. Swear you didn’t want me because we were too different and because I had kids. Look at you now, already toting my first baby in your stomach, and it hasn’t even been a year yet. Damn, I’m good,” I boasted right back.
“Ooooohhh, cocky, aren’t we? Papi, it hasn’t even been confirmed yet if I’m carrying your baby in my stomach. If I am, simmer down, big daddy. Shall I remind you how the raw sex even started? ‘Baby, let me feel it raw. Let daddy feel it raw. I promise Ima pull out.’ Wasn’t that what you were begging me? Don’t act like that dick is thattttt powerful that I lost all my senses and asked you to take the condom off,” she said.
I was dying laughing at her mocking a nigga. It was cool because she still wasn’t winning.
