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“I want custody of Joshua.”
“You can have joint custody, but that’s it. My son is not livin’ with you.”
“Our son,” he corrects, raisin’ a brow. “And I’m takin’ you to court for full-custody. It’s time he lives with me. You still wanna run the sreets and be wild. He needs stability and structure.”
“Niggah, you a goddamn liar. I’ve raised him for the last fourteen years and all of sudden you wanna step in like Captain America. I don’t think so.”
‘Listen, the fact is you keep too much shit goin’. Josh needs a more stable home environment, Cass. You still wanna run the streets and shit.”
“Niggah-bitch, this has nothin’ to do with what the fuck I do on my own time. I take damn good care of my kids, and you know it. Ya black ass just don’t wanna pay all that child support. That’s all this is about. Well, guess what, niggah? You ain’t gettin’ my son. And now I’ma drag ya ass back into court for more money; watch me.”
“Ya ass is crazy, Cass. I pay close to nine hundred dollars a month so you better enjoy it while you can ’cause I’m gettin’ my son and you won’t be gettin’ shit else.”
I glare at him. “You’ll get Joshua over my dead body, niggah.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” he says as his partner opens the passenger side door and slides in.
He revs the engine, then peels outta the parkin’ lot, headin’ downtown. He keeps eyein’ me in the rearview mirror, and I’m eyein’ him back.
This niggah’s crazy if he thinks I’ma ever let him take Joshua from me. I’ll let a train full of niggahs fuck me before that happens. I’ll pay someone to body him, first. And I mean that shit!
I lean all the way back in my seat, li
ft my legs up and plant my feet up on the partition, spreadin’ open my legs and showing my bald snatch. “What, niggah . . . you want some’a this hot pussy? Is that why the fuck you starin’ so goddamn hard.” His partner tries not to look back at me.
“Get your feet down,” he barks, mean muggin’ me all crazy and whatnot.
“Fuck you, little dick,” I snap, kickin’ the partition. “Yeah, bitch . . . I know all about that lil’-ass, piggy dick you got. And I heard you come fast, too, you worthless fuck!”
He glares at me. “Yo, you heard what the fuck I said. I’m not gonna tell you again.”
“What the fuck you gonna do, bitch?” I kick the partition again. “Suck a tampon, punk-ass niggah!”
“Yo, man,” Julius says, glancin’ over at him. “Don’t crank her up. Just ignore her crazy ass.”
He turns back the fuck around and keeps his eyes forward as Julius hits the siren button and presses the pedal to the metal. The niggah knows he’d better hurry up and get me to the station and outta this car and away from his ass before I say a whole lot more.
“Both of you pussy-ass niggahs can eat my ass.”
I kick the partition again.
Julius shakes his head, lettin’ out a disgusted sigh, like I give a fuck.
Bastard!
Seventeen
“C’mon, Cass . . . damn,” he whispers all throaty and whatnot as I unfasten his belt buckle, unzip his pants, then fish out his thick, throbbin’ cock. “You tryna get me fired ’n shit.” He feebly pushes my hand away; tries to lift my face from his crotch. But I know it’s all an act.
“What, you don’t want this fat-ass dick sucked?” I ask, lickin’ the sticky precum that oozes outta his piss slit. This niggah might not be shit. But his dick is hella good! And he knows it. But I know that his ass is weak . . . for good pussy and good head, which is why he really isn’t stoppin’ me from havin’ at his cock. His mouth is sayin’ one thing, but his body and dick are sayin’ somethin’ else, as always.
And I’m here to give it to him. Besides, if I don’t get a dose of dick before I get home I’ma end up killin’ Isaiah for bringin’ all this damn drama in my life today. So I need me some dingaling and a good fuckin’!
He moans, leanin’ his head back. “You know I do, damn . . . fuck . . . I have’ta get back to the station soon.”
I flick my tongue over the head, again. “It’ll only take five minutes if you stop playin’ around, niggah.” I wrap my warm, wet mouth over the head. Allow my tongue to swirl over it. I look up at him and bat my lashes. “C’mon, daddy . . . let me eat the nut outta this dick real quick.”
“Shit!” He lifts his head up from the headrest and looks around to see who’s outside, then glances at the clock. He’s thinkin’, wonderin’ inside his horny-ass head if he can turn down a dose of this bomb head game. His dick, swollen and hard, throbs in my hand. Even if he wants to, we both know his dick won’t let him. The niggah is a slave to it. He’s a freak like me, which is why he can’t stay away from me. No matter how much shit he pops; no matter how hard this niggah tries to fight it, he always finds himself—his rock-hard dingdong—stuffed between my lips—mouth, pussy, or ass, whichever I decide to give him. Right now, I want his nut down in my throat. I flick my wet tongue back over the head, then slip it into my mouth, teasing him. “Fuck . . . uh, shit . . . ” He lifts his hips up from the seat and pulls his pants and underwear down. “Make it quick, Cass. But this isn’t gonna change what I said to you earlier.”
