which confuses me. “I was minding my own fucking business when Bitch Face decided to push the mattress I was laying on up with her feet and knocked me off the bed! On the way down, I banged my nose. But was that enough? No! She fucking attacked me. What is your problem with me anyway? You want him?” she demands, snapping her head in the direction of the appropriately named Bitch Face, who is glaring back at her. These two want to kill each other.
“I don’t like you. And my name is Tameka, not Bitch Face. But we can call you Cocksucker since that’s how you plan on getting paid around here,” she antagonizes.
My girl—yeah, she’s already mine in my eyes—bolts from the chair lightning fast and tackles Tameka out of her chair and into the floor. I’m shocked at first but quickly recover and run over to yank Kerry or whoever the fuck she is off of Tameka. I capture her in a bear hug with my arms around her middle, and I can’t help but feel turned on with her body pressed against my cock. Thankfully, CJ yanks on Tameka’s arm, pulling her to her feet.
“You two need to cool the fuck off. CJ, take Tameka back to her room. You.” I dip my mouth real close to the ear of the beautiful one. “You are going to calm down in here with me.”
She relaxes against me and I feel like I’ve won a small victory. I keep her in my hold until CJ leaves with Tameka. Reluctantly, I let her go and point to the chair. She plops down in it, defeated.
“You interrupted dinner, baby girl,” I complain while scooping my bag up from the desk and sit beside her. “It’s your lucky night. I’m sure the frozen dinners in the kitchen were less than appetizing. Want to share with me?”
She shakes her head, still pouting from her little catfight.
“Suit yourself, but Grammy makes the best fried chicken,” I taunt.
As soon as I say “Grammy,” I want to kick myself. I’ve never mentioned her to anyone besides Oculus from this dark side of my life. But with this girl, I want to tell her fucking everything, which is a problem.
Turning to me, she smiles beautifully over my way. With a half-cocked smile, she asks, “Grammy?” Milk chocolate eyes shimmer with amusement. The corner of her mouth twitches as she tries to keep from laughing. I want my mouth right there—right on the corner of her perfect, plump lips.
“Yeah. Got a fucking problem?” I grumble in mock annoyance as I pull the food out onto my lap. I set the cake plate on the table beside me and pull the foil from the still-warm plate.
She bites her lip to hold back a grin, and I fork a bite of mashed potatoes into my mouth, hiding my own smile. There’s just something so damn cute about her.
“Nope. Not a problem here,” she finally utters.
Noticing that she’s hungrily eyeing my mouth as I eat, I scoop up another bite and hold it up to her.
“No, thank you,” she replies breathily.
I reach over and cup her chin, placing my thumb against her lip. When she gasps and closes her eyes, I urge her mouth open and slide in a bite of the potatoes. Her eyes fly open in surprise at the delicious goodness I just gifted her with.
After she swallows them down, she compliments my grammy, making my heart thump with pride. “Those have got to be the best mashed potatoes I have ever tasted! Give me another bite, Pac,” she orders.
I laugh and gather another forkful to feed to her. There’s something about this girl that feels…comfortable. Just as much a part of home as Grammy’s mashed potatoes.
“Tell me your real name. Please. I need to call you something,” I try again.
Her playful eyes turn dark and she looks down at her hands, avoiding my penetrating gaze. “Call me Kerry or Mack or Braids.”
Her comment stings, which is so fucking lame considering that I barely know her. But I want to know her. She’s just making it so damn difficult.
“Or I could tell you my real name in exchange for yours. Our little secret.” I want to tell her my name as
“I don’t like you. And my name is Tameka, not Bitch Face. But we can call you Cocksucker since that’s how you plan on getting paid around here,” she antagonizes.
My girl—yeah, she’s already mine in my eyes—bolts from the chair lightning fast and tackles Tameka out of her chair and into the floor. I’m shocked at first but quickly recover and run over to yank Kerry or whoever the fuck she is off of Tameka. I capture her in a bear hug with my arms around her middle, and I can’t help but feel turned on with her body pressed against my cock. Thankfully, CJ yanks on Tameka’s arm, pulling her to her feet.
“You two need to cool the fuck off. CJ, take Tameka back to her room. You.” I dip my mouth real close to the ear of the beautiful one. “You are going to calm down in here with me.”
She relaxes against me and I feel like I’ve won a small victory. I keep her in my hold until CJ leaves with Tameka. Reluctantly, I let her go and point to the chair. She plops down in it, defeated.
“You interrupted dinner, baby girl,” I complain while scooping my bag up from the desk and sit beside her. “It’s your lucky night. I’m sure the frozen dinners in the kitchen were less than appetizing. Want to share with me?”
She shakes her head, still pouting from her little catfight.
“Suit yourself, but Grammy makes the best fried chicken,” I taunt.
As soon as I say “Grammy,” I want to kick myself. I’ve never mentioned her to anyone besides Oculus from this dark side of my life. But with this girl, I want to tell her fucking everything, which is a problem.
Turning to me, she smiles beautifully over my way. With a half-cocked smile, she asks, “Grammy?” Milk chocolate eyes shimmer with amusement. The corner of her mouth twitches as she tries to keep from laughing. I want my mouth right there—right on the corner of her perfect, plump lips.
“Yeah. Got a fucking problem?” I grumble in mock annoyance as I pull the food out onto my lap. I set the cake plate on the table beside me and pull the foil from the still-warm plate.
She bites her lip to hold back a grin, and I fork a bite of mashed potatoes into my mouth, hiding my own smile. There’s just something so damn cute about her.
“Nope. Not a problem here,” she finally utters.
Noticing that she’s hungrily eyeing my mouth as I eat, I scoop up another bite and hold it up to her.
“No, thank you,” she replies breathily.
I reach over and cup her chin, placing my thumb against her lip. When she gasps and closes her eyes, I urge her mouth open and slide in a bite of the potatoes. Her eyes fly open in surprise at the delicious goodness I just gifted her with.
After she swallows them down, she compliments my grammy, making my heart thump with pride. “Those have got to be the best mashed potatoes I have ever tasted! Give me another bite, Pac,” she orders.
I laugh and gather another forkful to feed to her. There’s something about this girl that feels…comfortable. Just as much a part of home as Grammy’s mashed potatoes.
“Tell me your real name. Please. I need to call you something,” I try again.
Her playful eyes turn dark and she looks down at her hands, avoiding my penetrating gaze. “Call me Kerry or Mack or Braids.”
Her comment stings, which is so fucking lame considering that I barely know her. But I want to know her. She’s just making it so damn difficult.
“Or I could tell you my real name in exchange for yours. Our little secret.” I want to tell her my name as
Similar Books
