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A slow smile eases over her pillow-soft lips. “How many days a week are you gonna be working?”
I tell her maybe like two or three—maybe four, dependin’ on how busy shit gets. “It’s only for a few hours a day, so I’ll be home before the kids get out of school.”
She tucks the money into her bra. “Well, then, congratulations, baby. And thank you for the money.”
I lean in ‘n’ kiss her on the lips. “No doubt, bae. You know I got you.” I kiss her again, then turn to leave outta the kitchen.
“Um, baby…?”
I turn back to face her. “Yeah, wassup?”
“You never said what kind of work you’re going to be doing for this guy? Unloading boxes?”
“Nah, baby. Meat-packin’.”
I wink at her, walkin’ outta the room, leavin’ her wit’ a smile on her face. My baby’s just happy her man’s gonna be bringin’ home some bread.
I ain’t gonna front, yo. The last few weeks have been crazy as fuck. My clientele list is growin’ mad fast thanks to word of mouth. News of this good hard dick is spreadin’ like fire.
When my paper was low Nivia made a slick-ass comment about me goin’ out ‘n’ slingin’ some dick. That stays stuck in the back of my head. So now I’m slingin’ this dick e’ery which way to whomever is willin’ to kick out that paper.
I don’t give a fuck. It’s whatever. Singles, couples, whatever…if that cash is right, I’m ready to rock. You want shit, you want piss, you want hard dick…I got you.
Don’t get it twisted, though. I ain’t tryna do this shit forever; just until I find me a legit job. Ain’t no way I’m tryna let Nivia catch me out there wit’ my dick out if I am bringin’ that paper home to her.
It ain’t cheatin’. But the shit still ain’t something she’d be aiight wit’, even if she was the one who put the idea in my head in the first place.
Nivia would be ready to leave my ass if she knew I’ve lucked up ‘n’ got four steady clients ‘n’ two couples—not includin’ the muhfucka who likes me to come through ‘n’ shit on him—who wanna tag team their wives wit’ me, or sit back ‘n’ watch me screw their wives solo.
I know Nivia ain’t mean it literally when she told me to go out ‘n’ fuck for money, but still she put that shit out there ‘n’ hey…it is what it is.
Still, I know I’ma have’ta let this shit go in a minute.
But, word is bond, yo. In the meantime, I’ma sling this dick ‘n’ get that bread.
I’m only checkin’ for them caked-up, freaky muhfuckas who don’t mind comin’ up off’a that paper, point-blank, period.
So until this job shit comes through, if you know anyone lookin’ for a good hard fuck or freaky fun time, let ’em know I got some big, hard dick for hire.
IF YOU ENJOYED “DIRTY HEAT,” KEEP THE FIRES BURNING
WITH THIS SNEAK PREVIEW FROM
BY CAIRO
COMING SOON FROM STREBOR BOOKS
Hidden behind thick mahogany doors, a decadent sea of pleasure awaited everyone who stepped across its threshold.
The sign above the doors that opened up into the club’s Italian-marbled foyer read: ENTER IF YOU DARE. LEAVE BEHIND YOUR APPREHENSIONS. SURRENDER TO YOUR DESIRES…AND STEP INSIDE THE PLEASURE ZONE.
Nairobia smiled wickedly.
The sweet notes of “Send Me Out” by Kelela played as flames swayed across the stunning fountain’s water on the club’s second level. The song was sexy. The artist’s voice poured out of the speakers like warm honey. And it made the air around Nairobia thicken with sexual energy. She skimmed a hand down her neck, then allowed it to glide down over her pulsing body.
The club’s grand opening had exceeded her wildest expectations. It was close to midnight, the bewitching hour—the freak hour, and the club was packed with hard-bodied hunks and curvaceously heeled women ready for a night of decadence.
Nairobia’s tongue slid across her teeth as she gathered the drool that formed in her mouth, and swallowed. Salacious thoughts and forbidden desires bloomed into sinful realities right before her and she was…well, she was shamelessly wet.
