Butterfly

by Ashley Antoinette

  13

  Isa sped down the highway, the winds from the hundred-mile-per-hour speed whipping his jacket as he weaved in and out of traffic, never braking. Aria had his head fucked up.

  “If pain is what you like to give women, mission accomplished, Isa. I feel it.”

  Her words echoed in his mind as his heart pumped. He hated that he had ever laid eyes on Aria. His feelings were convoluted when it came to her. A web of inconsistency. He wanted her for himself. He would kill anyone else who dared look her way, but he wasn’t ready to be a one-woman man. He wanted to be, but the idea of that terrified him. Aria played tough, but he knew that he had the potential to hurt her. He already had, and he had been sick for hours at just the notion. His tastes weren’t normal, however. Isa had been rough on women since he first discovered them. He ran through them, revolving them, playing with them, picking them up and putting them down at a whim until her. Aria did something to him that he couldn’t explain, but he was afraid to relinquish control. He was afraid to show her the sides she couldn’t see with the naked eye because she talked big, but she wasn’t ready for the shit he liked. His phone rang, the Bluetooth in his helmet going off.

  “Answer,” he said. “What up?” he greeted.

  “We need to talk, Isa.”

  Aria’s voice provided an instant sense of relief. Some of the tension he felt dissipated at just the sound of her voice.

  “I want to see you, Ali,” he stated.

  “Then come see me,” she answered. She hung up.

  It was that. Her attitude. Her confidence. Like she knew he was on the way just because she had requested his presence. Shit he was. The detour to her place had occurred as soon as the melody of her voice had hit his ears. He had some making up to do. He was at her building within the hour. He would have gotten there sooner, but the stop to his house to shower and switch clothes and hop in his BMW had eaten up a bit of time.

  He called her when he was at her door.

  “It’s open,” she said as soon as she answered.

  Isa pushed the door open and walked inside.

  Candles were lit in the living room, and he pulled off his jacket before locking the door.

  “Yo, Ali!” he called out. He noticed the bottle of tequila on the countertop. It was half-empty. “Oh, fuck!”

  Isa’s brow lifted when he heard her moans coming from the bedroom. He drifted down the hallway and pushed open her bedroom door.

  The sight before him both set a blaze in his heart and his loins. His stomach hollowed. He was sick. Aria lay before him on silk sheets, her chocolate legs spread wide as his side bitch, the one she had found him with, devoured her. Aria stared him in the eyes as she fisted the top of the girl’s head with one hand and stuck up her middle finger with the other.

  He wanted to slap fire from her and fuck her all at the same time.

  Imagine us skin to skin, eye to eye

  Bodies wet from the sweat, I’m working out with you

  Fingertips traveling into places wonderful

  The song played slow in the background, and Aria rode the beat, smashing her sex against the girl’s face with so much aggression that her mouth fell open in ecstasy.

  “You want me to fuck you up,” he said. His hand instinctively went to his dick.

  “You wanted to fuck her. Me too,” Aria groaned. “As a matter of fact, every time I catch you with a bitch, I’m taking her.”

  Isa’s mind was blown. Had she done this before? Was this a onetime thing? The visual of Aria and Mo in the club flashed in his mind. They had done that before. They danced seductively all the time, but he had never thought anything of it. Was it more than a show? Did Aria like women? Prefer them, even? Enjoy them? He knew she could have any man she pleased, but damn if she could have any woman too. His blood coursed, and his dick jumped. It was the sexiest shit he had ever seen, but he couldn’t help but be pissed. Man or woman, that pussy was his, and the thought of someone else indulging in her had him thinking about murder.

  The girl didn’t even stop. It was like Isa wasn’t even in the room.

  “Sssss,” Aria moaned. “Just like fucking that.”

  Isa crossed the room, stepping out of his jeans and pulling his shirt over his head. He would join now and chastise later.

  He placed one knee on the bed.

  “No,” Aria said, coming up on her elbows. “She’s not here for you. Ain’t that right?”

  The question was for the girl. She lifted her eyes to Aria’s, lips still wrapped around Aria’s sex as she nodded. “Mmm,” the girl moaned.

  “Oh my God,” Isa groaned. “The fuck.”

  “Niggas don’t cheat on me, Isa. It just doesn’t happen,” she said. Aria couldn’t even focus on the lesson she was teaching. Her head fell to the side, and her face scrunched. “Agh!” she cried out.

  Isa’s heart tensed in anger, in jealousy, in disbelief. His mind was spinning. His stomach was empty, and acid built in his throat.

  His eyes burned. What the fuck? Aria had him on some bitch shit. On some hurt shit. Why the fuck was she so engaged? Loving this shit. Enjoying this shit. He locked his jaw.

  “I don’t take pain. You give pain. You hurt me. She’s making it feel better,” Aria moaned. “God, so much fucking better.”

  “Yo! Fuck that!” Isa said. He grabbed the girl by her hair and pulled her off Aria.

  “Ow! Isa!” the girl shouted as he flung her to the floor. Aria sat up and came up on her knees.

  “Get the fuck out!” Aria told him.

  “I ain’t going no-fucking-where,” he countered, pointing a finger in her face. “You on some bullshit right now!”

  Aria slapped that finger so hard her hand hurt.

  “The same bullshit you were on earlier. You got yours. I’m getting mine,” Aria stated. “From every bitch you entertain. That’s my bitch now. Your number is already on block in her phone.”

  Aria was a savage, and Isa’s dick was begging him to tame her.

  “Ali—”

  “That’s not my name.”

  “Ali—”

  Aria mushed him and climbed from the bed. “That’s not my fucking name!”

  She bent down to the girl and helped her from the floor. “Let me handle him, sweetheart. I’ll call you, okay?” Aria said, caressing the girl’s hair. “And if he calls you…”

  “Call you and let you know,” the girl answered.

  Aria kissed her lips. “Good girl,” she whispered.

  Isa placed both hands on top of his head in dismay.

  “Get yo’ ass out,” he said, charging toward the girl and grabbing her elbow, dragging her toward the door. Aria slipped into her satin kimono and pulled her hair up as she waited patiently for Isa to return. He rushed her, picking her up and forcing her legs around his waist as he put her back to the wall.

  He was ready. He was more than ready, and the lines in his forehead told her he was angry.

  Aria sneered as she gripped his face with one hand, capturing his chin in the U of her left hand and squeezing hard, making him focus on her.

  “I’m not the bitch you play with, Isa,” she whispered. The look in her eyes was callous, but her vision was full of tears. “I will kill you. I will gut you, my nigga. Don’t fucking play with me. I will leave your heart on the fucking floor.”

  “You already did, Ali. This shit touched a nigga behind his ribs. You fucking me up, Aria.” She knew he was serious because he used her real name. “Fuck I’m supposed to do walking in on some shit like this?” he whispered. “I want to fuck you, baby. I mean I want to fuck the shit out of you, but I want to choke your little ass too. Punish you.”

  He placed his hands to her neck, and Aria saw fire in his gaze, like he zoned out, like thoughts he couldn’t confess had crossed his mind.

  “That’s what you like,” she whispered. “Pain. You said you like pain. That’s why you’re afraid to touch me. Why you’ve been going easy?”

  He was so close that his
shallowed breaths left his lips, and she sucked them in. Her heart raced. Did she want this? Did she want to give permission for something like this? How much pain? How bad would it hurt? Aria had always been up for a challenge.

  “Choke me, Isa.”

  She felt his manhood react, jumping, like an eager animal that was locked behind a cage, waiting to be fed. He was a beast. She was about to feed him.

  Aggressive-ass nigga likes to choke women.

  The thought both scared and electrified Aria. His hand rested on her chest, then moved up; he traced her collarbone with his finger, then five fingers around her throat. The other hand removed his dick, and before she could gasp at the size of him, he cut off her air.

  Aria’s mind spun, buzzed, as her body begged her to breathe and he barreled into her fountain, submerging in her, going so deep that Aria’s eyes squeezed shut.

  He lifted one thumb and suddenly air rushed her brain. She sucked it in.

  “Isa, baby!” she whispered.

  He carried her to the bed, dick so long and hard it didn’t even slip out as he walked across the room. He placed her on her feet and then turned her around, then knocked. Three heavy thuds against the top of her ass made Aria climb onto the bed on all fours. His hand reached around her and wrapped around her neck, then he pulled her back onto him. Aria whimpered. She wasn’t experienced enough for this position, so it hurt a bit; an ache filled her as he stroked her deep, kissing her back every time he thrust. His hand tightened, and adrenaline filled her as deep breathing became shallow and shallow became wheezing as he left her with just enough air, just enough space in her throat to not die. It was like riding a roller coaster … like being at the highest point of the ride … the point that made you question sanity … the part that made you ask yourself why you had waited two hours in line just to partake in the near-death experience. It was a thrill, and Aria threw her body back at him because she had never been a punk. There was no bitch in her blood.

  “Damn, Ali. Give me that shit!” he gritted as they fucked. Skin to skin, she heard the beat they created, and she danced to it. Her brain tingled from deprivation. She felt high. Her clit was so swollen that she knew one touch would send her river raging. He was squeezing so tight and fucking her so deep. Beast was understatement. This nigga was a monster. He was scaring her. Without warning, he wrapped an arm around her body and, still gripping her neck, he picked her up from the bed. He never pulled out as he changed positions, sitting on the bed and her in his lap. Reverse cowgirl. Neck in his hands, he opened his fingers and oxygen flowed. Aria gasped. “Isa!”

  “You want me to stop, Ali?” he asked.

  “No, go harder,” Aria panted. Her hands balanced on his thighs as she bounced on that dick. She did an entire eight count on that thang as he squeezed and lifted his hips, smashing his dick into her with so much aggression she felt like her hips might break. He reached around her body and captured her clit, and Aria collapsed. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, and he released her neck.

  “Damn,” he groaned. “Ohhhh shit.” He squeezed her clit like he was turning on the oven, and she gushed. “Ali, this pussy is the greatest, baby.” He pulled out, and she went limp in his arms as she came for the second time. Two for her, one for him. Aria moved to the bed, and they lay face-to-face. He placed one hand to her cheek and moved her hair out of her face.

  “I fucked up,” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  “I won’t fuck up no more, Ali.”

  She didn’t respond, but she closed the space between them.

  “Yo, you took one of my bitches.” He snickered.

  “That’s my bitch now,” Aria whispered as she kissed the center of his neck. “You my bitch too.”

  He snickered. “Yo, that mouth is reckless, Ali.”

  “I think I need to be punished, Isa,” she whispered as she snaked her thigh through his legs and then mounted him. “I need to feel pain, baby. Talking reckless to the god, I think some pain should come with that.”

  Her voice was dripping in seduction, and his eyes danced with fire. “You don’t need nobody else, Isa. I’m not afraid of this.” She paused to kiss his lips, and then she reached down to slide him inside her because amazingly, even after orgasm, he was still ready, still able. “I’m not afraid of you. I’ll go to fucking war for you. With you, baby, and you let me catch you with another bitch again and I’m going to war against you. You’ve got me. It’s all about me. Not them. I can take this dick, baby, and this mouth is reckless. I’m so disrespectful, so punish me.”

  Baby, don’t let me down, got a lot going on right now, and I need you to hold me.

  The soft voice of Janine oozed throughout the bedroom. Ahmeek came through the door and paused in the threshold. He froze. Morgan lay in his bed, nestled under his Versace duvet like she belonged there. Like she had picked it out herself. She lay on her side, back to the door, one balled fist balancing her head off the pillow because he assumed she didn’t want to mess up her hair.

  He listened to the lyrics of the song because he knew Mo well enough to know she expressed her mood through music.

  He removed his watch and placed it on the dresser along with his keys. Blowing out a deep breath, he shook his head. Morgan in his bed. Even from behind, without even seeing her face yet, the sight jabbed him, hollowing his gut.

  He moved through the dark. Only the light that Mo had left on in the bathroom glowed in the room. He peeled out of his jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed. Then he reached down, pulling the cover up over her shoulders. She groaned but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Sorry. It got late, and I just needed to rest my eyes for a little while,” she whispered. Eyes squeezed tight, she yawned. He sat on the edge of the bed.

  Ahmeek couldn’t even control the hand he used to sweep her hair out of her face. Her eyes opened, and her breath caught in her throat. “I’m rude. I’m intruding. I’m sorry,” she whispered as she went to move out of his bed.

  “It’s fine, Mo. I don’t mind,” he said, withdrawing his hand.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Three o’clock,” he answered. “You ready? I can drive you to the crib real quick.”

  “Ahmeek, it’s the middle of the night. I’m fine here until morning,” she whispered.

  “Still lifting semis?” she asked.

  “Among other things,” he said. His elbows rested on his knees, and he leaned over, head low as his hands swept over his waves.

  Baby, if I open my mouth and let my darkest memories come out

  Morgan sat up in his bed, putting her back against the headboard. She could feel his tension. “You want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Not really,” he said.

  “I’m a really good secret keeper,” she pressed.

  He glanced back at her, and one side of his mouth lifted into a smirk. He shook his head.

  “I could just leave all this shit alone. The street shit. The semis, the drugs … I’ve done good with my money over the years. I’ve moved real quiet, been real smart. I could leave the rest on the table and get out while I’m free,” Ahmeek said.

  “Why don’t you?” she asked.

  “Because Isa’s not ready, and we promised each other. We would step into the game together and step out together. We wouldn’t leave anybody behind,” Ahmeek stated. He grew quiet as his head hung in despair. “We already lost one. If I got out and something happened to bro, I would never be able to live with that. So until he’s ready, I’m stuck.”

  “You’re a good friend, Meek,” Mo said.

  Ahmeek leaned back on the bed. His hands dragged down his face before he focused on the ceiling.

  “I’m twenty-seven, Mo. A nigga ready for the next step, but Isa never planned for that, but how old is too old to be doing the same shit? We been running shit for years. Wearing crowns for years. Banging on niggas for years. When is enough, enough?” he asked.

  Morgan lifted the covers, and he l
ooked over his head as she climbed across the bed.

  “Glad to see you made yourself comfortable,” he said, smirking at the fact that she wore one of his shirts.

  “I tried to choose something old, but everything had tags on it, so I just chose the ugliest one,” she said. He chuckled. Morgan lay beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and then looked up at the ceiling too.

  She placed her cheek on his shoulder.

  “I like your loft, Meek. It’s perfect,” she whispered. “Keep planning your exit. Make more investments. Make investments for Isa too, and move smart. Stay out the way. One day, you’ll fill this loft with a family, and you’ll be able to sleep with both eyes closed. Just be careful so that you make it to see that day.”

  He rested his head on top of hers and released anxiety in the form of a sigh.

  “One day,” he said as if pondering the notion in his mind.

  Morgan turned into him and lifted one leg over his body as he welcomed her, wrapping an arm around her. Her head rested on his chest.

  “You smell like me,” he said.

  “You have no girl soap,” she whispered.

  “I don’t bring women here,” he answered.

  “Yet here I am,” she countered.

  “Here you are,” he repeated.

  “Who would have thought?” she asked.

  “Not a motherfucking soul,” he answered.

  Morgan nestled closer to him. “I like when you smell like you, love,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to get some girl shit up in here.” He said it like he planned on bringing her here again.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she agreed, submitting like she planned on coming here again. Her voice was sleepy. She was tired. “Did you see Isa’s face when Aria kicked him off his motorcycle?”

  A low rumble erupted from Meek’s soul. “Yo, if that nigga had hit the ground…”

  Morgan and Meek laughed, but she was so tired that she didn’t even open her eyes. She just giggled, half-asleep, half-awake.

  “Why doesn’t it hurt?” she sighed.

  Meek pulled his head back so he could look at her. He frowned. He moved one hand to her chin and lifted her eyes to his. She opened them.