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He laughed. “So you just gonna walk off?”
“Yep,” I said. “Enjoy ya night.” I walked off, leavin’ him with a grin on his face. And if I knew nothin’ else, that nigga was gonna track me down. And I was right.
Two weeks later my cell phone rang and when I peeped the caller ID, I wasn’t familiar with the number, but I picked up anyway. “Hello?”
“So, now that I got ya number, Baby Girl, you gonna let a nigga take you out or do I hafta beg?”
I smiled. “I’m impressed,” I said. And I meant it. “But I don’t know you to go out with you. And beggin’ ain’t ya style, especially a nigga who got pussy comin’ to him real easy.” I already knew the nigga was not used to puttin’
in work with bitches ’cause they threw themselves at him. Dumb bitches! And I could tell by his attitude that he was the type of nigga used to gettin’ what he wanted. But I wasn’t gonna make shit easy for him.
He laughed. “Yeah, but I want you.”
“Well, I’m not available.”
“So do I need to come ring ya bell?”
“You don’t know where I live.”
“Try me,” he said, laughin’.
“You fuckin’ crazy,” I said, laughin’ with him.
“I’m crazy for you, Baby Girl. And I’m tryna get at you. I’ll be at ya spot in a couple of hours.”
“Nigga, you not invited. So don’t even try it. You come here and you gonna find ya ass standin’ out on the stoop.”
“Oh, word. You’ll really do a nigga like that?”
“Yep, try me.”
And sure enough, the nigga showed up at my door two hours later, ringin’ the buzzer. I hit the intercom to see who it was. When he announced himself, I reminded him that he wasn’t invited, and refused to let him in. I ain’t gonna front, I was gassed. He was gonna be my damn meal ticket. But I wasn’t gonna act all hungry ’n shit.
I couldn’t believe this nigga. He stood outside all fuckin’ night. It was after three in the morning when I finally gave in and went downstairs and walked up to him. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout, Baby.”
“Are you crazy?” I had asked, pullin’ my robe tighter and tryna keep a straight-face. “Why are you standin’ out here like you have nowhere else to go?”
“’Yeah,” he said, flashin’ his sexy smile, “as a matter of fact I am. And a crazy nigga like me got nothing but time on his hands. So unless you brought ya fine ass out here to invite me up or go for a ride, then this is where I’m gonna stay. So what’s it gonna be, pretty baby?” His hungry eyes roamed all over my body.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t come up,” I said, turnin’ to leave. “And I’m not ridin’ nowhere with you. Good night.”
As I turned to walk away, he grabbed me by the arm, pullin’ me toward him. “Hold up, ma. Let me give you something to think about tonight.” He backed me up against the wall of my buildin’, then pressed his body into mine, kissin’ me and pressin’ his already hard dick into me. Yeah, the nigga was aggressive, not some soft, weak cat scared to take what he wanted—just how I liked it. His free hand snaked its way inside my robe, rubbin’ the inside of my thighs until he found my wet pussy covered by red silk panties. His index finga pressed on my clit and he rubbed it fiercely until I moaned. I reached for his dick and almost fainted when I felt how long and thick it was. I let out another soft moan, then came to my senses and pushed him away before he got a chance to stick his fingas inside of me. “I ain’t that kinda bitch,” I finally said, breakin’ outta his grip. “You want this pussy, then you gonna have to earn it.” He leaned in to kiss me again, but this time I turned my head. “Good night.”
“Yeah, I’ma wife you,” he said, lettin’ me go, then backin’ away. “You mine. Believe that. I’ll be back tomorrow and I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”
“Whatever,” I replied, headin’ toward the door. Every day for a week straight, he came through ringin’ my doorbell, and each time I refused him. Then he started sendin’ me two dozen yellow roses for a week. When that didn’t work, he started sendin’ teddy bears rockin’ diamond necklaces around their necks, tennis bracelets, or diamond earrings, until I finally gave in.
For almost a year we were goin’ strong. The nigga started lacin’ me with bangin’ furs and jewels, takin’ me on expensive trips, and kept the cash flowin’—no matter the amount, no matter for what, I got it. I was the Bonnie to his Clyde. Wherever he went, I went. Everyone knew I was his; and whatever bitches he had suckin’ his dick, they knew to play their positions and not bring drama to me. I fucked him any-and-every which way he wanted, nonstop. He moved me outta Crown Heights into a cute co-op off Eastern Parkway across from the Brooklyn Musuem. A bitch was catchin’ feelins for the nigga hard, and was really thinkin’ he was the one.
But I quickly learned that shit ain’t always what it seems. That everything that glitters ain’t always gold. That lovin’ a nigga sometimes comes with a price. A bitch was slapped into reality when I decided to come back early from a two-week trip to Hawaii, the one he paid for as a gift for my twentieth birthday, but couldn’t go because he swore he couldn’t get away. He also laced me with two-carat diamond studs, a diamond necklace, and ten thousand dollars. He even paid for Chanel to go in his place. So instead of stayin’ the full time, I flew home four days early to surprise him ’cause a bitch was missin’ her man and wanted to be fucked into a coma for her birthday instead of layin’ on a beautiful beach with another bitch. But the surprise was on me.
I walked up on him fuckin’ Patrice doggie-style in the same bed he had been fuckin’ me in many times before. She was moanin’ and groanin’ and beggin’ him, callin’ him big daddy this, and big daddy that. I stood in the doorway and watched him slap her on the ass, and tell her how good and wet and fat her pussy was. I listened to her tell him how much she wanted him, how much she loved his big dick. Listened to her ask him to leave “that bitch”; heard him tell her he would never leave me, that I was always gonna be his wifey, but she could always get the dick on the low. I stood stone still and watched my own blood fuck my man, and the nigga I practically gave my heart to play me like a fuckin’ fool. A bitch was boilin’ mad. I wanted to kill ’em both, but I kept it cute. Just as he was ’bout to cum, I took a deep breath, then walked in.
“So, this is what a nigga who says he loves a bitch does when she’s gone—he fucks my muthafuckin’ aunt.”
He looked up. “Oh, shit,” he gasped, pullin’ his dick outta Patrice. Shock was all over their faces as they both tried to scramble off the bed. His dick was slick from her pussy. Her hair was tossed every which way. I was too through. Not only was he fuckin’ her, but the nigga was fuckin’ her raw!
I walked closer to the bed. “Oh, nigga, don’t stop. Keep on ridin’ that ass. The bitch got some good pussy, huh? Is the shit better than mine, muhfucka?”
