Page 11 of The Price of My Sins
Thirty minutes later, I was pulling into my driveway, still feeling the weight of Bo’s words pressing on my chest. The engine hummed to a stop, but I kept my hands on the steering wheel, unwilling to let go. The street lights flickered softly in the distance, casting long shadows across the driveway. I glanced at the rearview mirror, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My reflection only gave me back the same person I’d been before. Confused, tired, and lost—I was unrecognizable. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting there. The warm air began to creep through the cracks in the window as my mind drifted to Bo and the first time I laid eyes on him.
He was definitely the type of man that I went for. He was a hood nigga but more laidback like a big teddy bear. His chill demeanor was not to be mistaken for weakness; he may not be in the streets, but he would lay a motherfucker down in these streets. That’s what turned me on about his big ole country ass. He was a fine-ass piece of chocolate, with broad shoulders. His muscles were built for the NFL. His frame was all power and raw, like a statue sculpted from solid granite.
His bald head was smooth, and his complexion was of rich milk chocolate. His long beard surrounded a set of thick lips that I couldn’t get enough of feeling on both sets of my lips. His eyes—those fucking eyes. They were dark, almost black. There was a darkness in them that looked dangerous, but they held something else too. It was something deeper that rested there that I could not explain.
With a heavy sigh, I reached for the door handle, preparing myself to hear this niggas mouth. I stepped out of the car and shut the door behind me, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement, each step feeling heavier than the last. It had been a long night, and my body ached with exhaustion. I fumbled for my keys as I reached the door. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt too still, like something was waiting to happen. I ignored the silent warnings and kicked off my heels before making my way upstairs.
When I walked into my bedroom, I flicked on the light, and this crazy-ass man was sitting on the bed with a mug on his face. I jumped back, my heart skipping a beat from the unexpected surprise.
“Jesus, Josh! You scared the hell out of me!” I gasped, clutching my chest. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” I picked up my purse and keys off the floor and placed them on the dresser.
“Nah. The question is, why the hell did you lie to me about going to your mama’s house?” The look in his eyes let me know he knew the truth.
“Josh, please. I didn’t lie. This is just you being in your feelings. I’m going to shower. I’m tired.” I began walking toward the bathroom. I’m sure I still smelled like sex. I didn’t have a chance to clean up good back at the club. I’m sure Bo’s kids still were lingering inside of me.
“Nah. We need to talk!” Josh growled, his fingers digging into my arm as he yanked me back, pulling me off balance. The pressure was sharp, and I felt the muscles in my shoulder strain under his grip. I could already feel the bruise forming beneath his touch.
“Josh, what the hell is wrong with you? Turn me loose!” I snapped, snatching my arm back, but his hold only tightened.
“You think I’m fucking stupid? You didn’t think I saw that nigga watching you, and you watching him while you were up on that stage? Huh? Or how about him going back to your dressing room? Don’t play with me, Olivia! I’m not stupid!”
“Whatever, Josh. Now, get your hands off me. I told you… there isn’t anything going on between Bo and me. You made up in your mind that there is.” I pulled from his grasp, and this time, he let me go.
“What happened between you and that nigga? Did you fuck him tonight?” Josh’s voice was low, but the sharpness in his words sliced through the air like a blade.
“You know what…? I’m tired of this shit. Yes, I fucked him. Is that what you want to hear? We been fucking for a while now. That man’s dick is so stupendous, even days after we fuck, I can still feel him inside me,” I confessed.
He moved toward me, his tall frame looming over me, blocking any chance of escape. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, muscles in his arms straining with the effort to control himself. I knew what was coming next, but before I could turn and run, his hand shot out like a cobra strike, grasping my neck and jerking me to him. I barely had time to gasp before my back hit the wall, his body crowding me, his breath sharp and fast. My eyes bulged as I stared into his dark eyes.
“You think this is a fucking game, bitch?!” His voice was low, shaking with rage. “I knew you were fucking that nigga! And you probably fucked him tonight. I can smell him on you!” Hegritted his teeth as his hand tightened against my neck. I tried to swallow, but my throat was tight. My heart thudded in my chest like a cautionary drumbeat.
The next thing that happened shocked the shit out of me. Josh raised his hand and brought it down across my face, knocking me to the floor. I could taste the blood in my mouth as I stared up at him with my nostrils flaring.
“See what you made me do? Huh, bitch? I told you… that slick mouth of yours would have me put my?—”
I cut him off with a swift kick to his dick. He screamed like a bitch, his body crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll. The sound of his cry echoed throughout the room, severe and helpless. This nigga had me fucked up putting his fucking hands on me. I stood up, my heart throbbing in my chest. My mind was racing, but I focused quickly as I knew I needed to move fast. I grabbed my purse and keys, and with one last glance, I ran out of the room and out of the house. The warm night air hitting my skin let me know I was no longer confined inside wooden walls.
I hopped in my car, slammed the door shut, and sped off, the hum of the engine doing little to drown out the storm brewing inside me. As I pulled onto the road, the reality of everything hit like a tidal wave, crashing over me all at once. I could feel the tears swelling up again, but I swallowed them down. I hated that I was feeling weak. I hated that I had let my life become such a fiasco. I needed to figure out how to escape this mess.
I couldn’t keep living like this—not anymore.
Steam still clung to my skin as I stepped out of the shower, the scent of my oatmeal body wash mixing with the lingering heat. Water trailed down my back as I grabbed a towel off the rack and rubbed it across my shoulders, my mind already drifting toward the beat I was playing with last night. Something soulful, raw, and sexy was being created from my frustrations.
I walked into my bedroom, the old wood floors creaking under my bare feet like they always did. No matter how much I renovated this place, some things I left untouched on purpose. That creak? That was a legacy.
Back in my room, the moonlight seeped through the blinds, laying stripes across the floor. I slid open the top drawer of my dresser and grabbed a pair of boxers and black basketball shorts before pulling them on. Snagging a clean pair of Nike socks, I slid them on and slipped my feet into my slides.
I walked over to the tray on my nightstand where I kept a few cigars. Picking the fattest one, I rolled it between my fingers, then tucked it behind my ear. Before making another move, my phone rang. It was Grandma. I braced myself and answered.
“Took you long enough,” she said before I could speak. “What… your fingers broke? Are you allergic to phones now? I could’ve knitted a whole blanket waiting on you.”
I chuckled, already picturing her pacing the floor with a cute mug on her face, and her hand on her wide hips. “Hi, beautiful. Good to hear from you too.”
“Don’t butter me up, boy!” she snapped, though I could hear the warmth of her voice. “I’ve been calling you for two hours. I swear, if you weren’t out there in the boondocks, I’ll come and put this belt to your behind.”
I laughed. “Grandma, you were not calling me for no two hours. You called me once, and that was ten minutes ago,” I said, looking at my phone. “I was in the shower.”
“Shower, huh? With what, molasses? You move slower than cold grits in January.” She laughed at her own joke, and I smiled.
