“I’m sorry,” I lied to Tony.
“No you not.” He touched my small belly. “Chill out though, crazy ass. Doing all this shit while pregnant with Crip.”
“No! That is not gonna be his nickname.”
Chuckling, Tony just hugged my body while kissing me. I knew that shit meant my protest went in one ear and out of the other.
38
Rahim
The next morning… around 11:30 a.m.…
“How is it coming along?” Amara walked into her backyard with two glasses, full of what appeared to be lemonade. I truly didn’t care what it was; I just needed something to drink.
It was hot as fuck, and my daughter wanted her playhouse built today so that she could play in it. I tried to tell her I’d do it tomorrow, but it was hard for me to say no to my baby girl.
“It’s coming. I just wish this shit didn’t have so many parts. I’ve had to unscrew and redo so much shit.” I shook my head as Amara cackled, handing me the glass.
She descended into the chair that went to the table I was by. Sitting down next to my project, I took a little break to drink down what I confirmed to be lemonade, homemade at that.
“I’m very impressed with you, Rahim.” Amara leaned on the table, smiling down at me.
She looked beautiful, per usual. Her hair was hanging down, and she had on one of them long dresses with a split; the whole thing was covered in flowers. Her light skin was so supple, not a spot of ash in sight.
“I like impressing you.” I smirked.
Amara and I had been out on a few dates alone and then a few with Ahmira. I had yet to get a kiss on the lips, let alone any kind of bedroom action from her, but I honestly didn’t mind. I was more focused on her willingness to take me back.
I made a point to visit Amara and Ahmira whenever I had time off from the studio, and I occasionally spent the night in the guestroom when I knew I didn’t have an early day in the morning. It was nice, and I think I was enjoying that so much that I didn’t really mind not getting any action.
Don’t get me wrong, I definitely thought about it, because Amara was fine as hell. She didn’t look any different from the day I met her in college. She was only much more mature and even more attractive because of all she’d done with her life, all the while supporting my dream and having a child. It amazed me sometimes when I thought about it, and I couldn’t even fathom the fact that I fucked my shit up for women who didn’t even measure up, excluding Shanece.
“I’m starting to see the Rahim I fell in love with, but also a more mature version of it. You weren’t ready for me to take you back before, when it all first happened.”
“I always loved you, Amara, but I guess all this taught me how horrible life is without you and that I need to be okay with being alone.”
Other than the fact that I was a man and around other single niggas who had hoes, my issue back then was my inability to be by myself. Ever since I could date and have sex, I’d always had a girlfriend. And if we broke up, I had a new one within weeks.
I’d always been a serial monogamist, and that shit had me hella dependent on relationships. Having my wife in another state was a recipe for disaster for a nigga like me at that time, someone who needed physical and mental affection 24/7. From Phoebe, I got that physical shit, and then Shanece stimulated my mental.
It was hard as hell for me to break up with Dallas, knowing full well I had no back-up woman, which was a first for me, and that it was more likely than not Amara wouldn’t take me back.
But during this period, it helped me be able to stand on my own, because even though I was dating Amara, I couldn’t have her all of the time. It wasn’t the same as being in a relationship with her, especially when some nights she went out with that nigga Donnie and I had to babysit my daughter like a punk while she did it.
However, after all the shit I did to Amara, it wasn’t my place to have any issue with her dating around. The ball was in her court, and that’s how I preferred it; she deserved for it to be that way. Her giving me the opportunity to take her out when I could was just that, an opportunity, so I had no right to try to call shots or intervene.
I chuckled to myself, thinking about the shocking expression on Tony’s face when I told him Amara went on a date and I stayed at her crib with Ahmira. Nigga asked so many questions because he just couldn’t believe I sat there and allowed it. He called me a couple hoe niggas too. And truthfully, from the outside looking in, I would’ve called myself that shit too.
“Yeah, it’s good that you’ve learned to be alone, Rahim. Because no matter who you’re with, sometimes you guys can’t be together as much as you want. And if I’m married, I want to know my husband can stand on his own and not need to be tended to constantly.”
“You wouldn’t have to worry about that… I mean, if you married me.” I shrugged, and she laughed.
Getting up from the seat, she lowered down, her alluring perfume wafting over me as she did it. She leaned in to press her lips to mine, and my dick immediately pitched a tent, even to my surprise. She looked into my eyes afterward and then gave me a few more deep pecks.
“I’m not quite ready to get married again, but I am willing to be monogamous.”
“With me?” I pointed to myself. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Shit, there were times I wanted to die because I knew I would never hear this shit from Amara.
“Yes, with you, who else?”
“I had to ask. But that sounds like a great deal for me.”
“Okay.” She kissed me once more, but when she tried to stand, I brought her into my lap, making her giggle. “We’re still going to live separately though, like normal boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“I got it. I’m thinking of a Christmas wedding.”
“Rahim.”
“That gives me about six months to convince you to marry me and propose.” I pecked her as she smiled. “I love you.”
“I know.” She hugged my neck just as we started to tongue one another down.
Other than when my daughter was born, today was one of the best damn days of my life. Would’ve been better if I got some, but kissing was farther than I’d gotten with Amara in ages, so I was gon’ take it.
We were getting married by December, I was making sure of it, and the only way this shit would end is if one of us died.
39
Tony Wacko
I was in the studio by myself, just listening to a bunch of newly recorded tracks from the past few weeks. I’d been too held up handling other shit to hear them as soon as they were recorded like usual, so I had to cram it all into one listening session.
I decided to take a break just so my ears could be fresher when I turned on the next track. Standing up, I left the studio room to head outside to smoke and get fresh air, but I noticed a white envelope had been slid under the door. Picking it up, I read my name on the front, so I stepped outside to see if anybody was still around. It was nothing but a couple random crack heads across the street, so whoever left this shit was long gone.
Going back inside, I shut the door and opened the letter to see it was from Brielle’s ass.
Dear Brother, I won’t speak your name just in case this letter finds itself in the wrong hands. To keep things short and to the point, the way you like it, I am keeping the promise I made to God and turning myself in. I tried, I really did to move on with my life, but the weight of what I have done is really much too heavy for me to bear. I thank you for helping me the way that you did when it went down, and I will not mention your name when I confess. No one knows you assisted me but you and I, not even my husband, and I’d like to keep things that way.
Although in a perfect world, you and I would be together, I’ve realized a while ago that would never happen. I’ve loved you…
I stopped reading because I didn’t care about all that bullshit she was about to say. That bitch was off her fucking rocker to ever think we’d become more than fuck buddies, whether our parents got m
arried or not.
I wanted to be pissed that her stupid ass went down there to confess, but a part of me believed she wouldn’t throw my name in that shit. And even if she did, there was no body and no evidence, so she’d have a hard time proving not only that I was involved, but even her damn self.
Muthafuckas thought they could just confess to shit and go to jail, but it didn’t work like that. You could confess until the fucking sun came up, but if there was no evidence, yo’ ass would be free.
So whatever the fuck she needed to do to leave me the fuck alone and be able to sleep at night, I was all for the shit.
Taking the letter, I shredded that muthafucka then went on about my muthafuckin business.
I was more than happy to be ridding my damn life of these hoes.
New York City… around 2:30 p.m.…
Brooklen and Eitan had just done a show yesterday, since Brooklen was Eitan’s opening act on his tour. She did a good ass job, and I knew now that if she’d dropkicked her bitch ass dude, she would only get better. Niggas like him couldn’t handle having a bitch that was successful and didn’t need their asses to survive. I on the other hand didn’t want no hoe who couldn’t get the shit on her own.
That’s why I loved Camarih. She was a hustler and didn’t want to be handed any damn thing. But in the same token, she wasn’t overly independent to where she wouldn’t let her nigga take care of her.
She was perfect, and every night I prayed, I thanked God that He gave me a woman like that to not only call my own but to be the mother of my kids. She loved hard too, unconditionally, because even the times when I wasn’t the best nigga, she was still there. She understood that I was different. I wasn’t some fairytale ass nigga that was gon’ magically become Prince Charming just because she came into my life. I was a hood nigga through and through.
But I got that shit together; real recognized real, and it was only right for me to respect Camarih. I loved her, and I knew if I wanted her to feel that shit, it would have to start with respect. And everything I lacked, my girl had, making us some perfect ass fucking puzzle pieces.
Anyway, I was chilling in my hotel room, currently on FaceTime with Camarih, trying to get her to show me something, but she refused since my son was in the room.
“Take cuz in his fucking room, come back, and then get to the shit, Buttascotch.”
“No, Houston. Just wait. When you get home in a few days, I promise it will be worth it.”
“Baby… look.” I flipped the camera to show how my dick was standing in my sweats. “I’m dying out here.”
“Well keep dying, and you better not fuck any bitches or jack off.”
“I won’t jack off. I promise.”
“Houston, you—”
“I gotta go.” I hung up, laughing, especially when she started blowing me up, calling.
Just as Camarih’s calls ceased, I got a text from the homie out here letting me know Angel was eating at this deli nearby. I’d been on the hunt for that hoe ever since Klaude let me know she was behind that stupid ass rumor. Camarih took care of Joy for me, which I didn’t ask her ass to do, but that was what happened when yo’ bitch started turning into you.
I slipped my feet into my Nikes, pulled on my black hoodie, which matched my sweats, shoved my keycard into my pocket, and then dipped out. I booked it straight to that deli from the hotel, on foot, because I didn’t want any type of tracking on me. When I got to the beat down ass deli, I spotted that bitch finishing up her food to throw it out. She was switching hard as hell, as if she wasn’t shaped like a damn toothbrush.
I dipped around the side of the brick wall, which was a small alley, and waited. Moments later, I quickly peeped to see her coming out, so I slipped back into hiding.
“Ahh!” She screeched when I grabbed her by her skinny ass neck. “Oh—”
WHAP!
She barely got her sentence out before I slapped the shit out of her, making her collide with the big ass dumpster. She actually tried to run up and hit me, but I coolly smacked the shit out of her again, causing her to become dizzy as hell.
“You thought that rumor shit was funny, huh?” I walked toward her as she backed away like it wasn’t a dead end.
“No, I’m sorry, I swear I—”
WHAP!
I delivered one more to her ass, after making sure no one was watching still, and that time, she fell to the ground, hands up in mock surrender, face bleeding, and pleading with me to stop.
“What type of nigga you think I am, Angel? Next time you wanna scheme and play these muthafuckin games with somebody’s family, you better do it to one of these bitch ass niggas that play tough on ya TV screens, hoe. I’ll knock the shit out you in real life. Let me find out you doing shit that involves me, my girl, or anything I got my hands on, and I’m splittin’ yo’ ass like pea soup.” Lowering my voice some, I whispered, “And even if you dream about doing some shit, I’ll know, so when you wake up, I’ll be there to break my foot off in yo’ flat ass. I pulled the pre-rolled blunt from my pocket and lit it. “We cool?”
“Ye-yes.”
“Aight. Get the fuck up off the ground. That ass is flat enough. Sitting down only gon’ make the shit worse, dummy.” I shook my head, checked my surroundings again, and walked off.
I got back to my hotel around 3 p.m., and all I could think about was fucking. I left four days ago, and that was the longest I’d gone without pussy, excluding when Camarih had just given birth and couldn’t bust it open for a nigga. But shit, even then I was getting some head and able to eat pussy after a couple weeks.
There was no way I could sleep tonight without something. And I felt like jacking off was some gay shit, because regardless of whether it was yo’ hand or not, it was a nigga’s hand stroking yo’ dick. Shit, if you’d stroke yo’ dick and you a nigga, whose to say you won’t let the next nigga do it? So nah, I wasn’t with that gay shit.
Damn…
Hours later… almost midnight…
Taking off my jacket and shoes in the dark room, I laid them both on the chaise then removed the rest of my clothes. Making my way over to the bed, I peeled the covers back and got in, hovering over Camarih who was sleep on her back, wearing a tiny, silky type bra and the matching shorts. I knew when I saw them shorts she didn’t have any fucking panties on.
I planted kisses on her belly as I removed the shorts, making her move about before her eyes fluttered open.
“Houston?”
“Who else?” I held her thighs, kissing the inner area as I made my way closer to her exposed pussy. It was perfect, like always.
“When did you get here?” She whispered softly as I sucked her thigh area right next to her pussy.
“Like ten minutes ago. I told you I was horny as fuck for you.”
“You flew back just for this?” she quizzed, and I nodded just before I started to eat her shit up. “Mmm,” she whimpered, spreading her legs wider.
She was soaking wet in no fucking time, so I dipped my tongue into her opening before bringing it back up to put pressure on her clit. Her moans got louder as she ran her small fingers through my hair and released. Keeping her legs apart with my hands, I lapped her juices up, fucking her with my tongue for a little bit, then went back to teasing her bud before sucking it. I kept switching back and forth between those two, french kissing the pussy as she creamed two more times. My dick was rock hard from hearing her moans and tasting her shit.
I sped up my motions, causing her body to become paralyzed as she whimpered and sniveled my name. I couldn’t help but to groan myself at the taste of my bitch, as she came again, hard as hell. Gently, I licked her clean, then made my way up her body, using my mouth, as I removed her silk top.
“Didn’t I say if I was away from you, I would fly out to fuck you before I cheated on yo’ ass?”
Out of breath, Camarih smiled and nodded before I slipped my tongue in her mouth. My dick was swollen beyond belief, so I plunged right inside of her tight walls, whic
h almost made a nigga nut. She moaned into my mouth from the pressure, as I slowly glided in and out of her dripping wet pussy.
“Houston!” She cried my name the way I liked as I started to beat it up.
And every time I went in deep, I felt her nectar coat my shaft. I loved listening to how wet she was, and for a moment, I stopped kissing her slowly and nastily so I could look down at my work. Biting down on my lip, I slowed up my strokes to be able see just how pretty her shit looked when I was pounding it.
Picking my head up, I got back to tonguing her down while beating it up with force. I was hitting it hard, so hard Camarih couldn’t moan; she could only hold her lips apart as I sucked and nibbled on the bottom one, while holding the front of her neck with one hand and using the other to hold her left leg outward to be sure I could hit it deep.
“Damn, baby,” I groaned lowly, feeling how good this pussy was all throughout my body. “Told you yo’ nigga will catch private flights for this shit.”
Camarih’s pussy was nice and grippy but so wet that I could feel her drenching the sheets. Holding the front of her neck a bit tighter, I bit down on her bottom lip and beat her shit out the frame, to where she couldn’t help but to cry out, making the sexiest faces I’d ever seen.
Soon enough, I was shooting her shit up. We kissed for a while, trying to catch our damn breath.
“You booked a private jet just to come fuck me. And I know you have to go back out in the morning… I just love you.” Camarih panted, looking up at me sensually as her teeth held her lip captive.
“I love yo’ ass too.”
That’s it, cuz… We lived happily ever after and all that bullshit. Happy birthday. Merry Cripmas… and shit, whatever other fucking holiday y’all muthafuckas is into.
You don’t need to get no muthafuckin epilo—
Camarih Terranova
She Gave Her All to the Hood's Finest 5 Page 38