Page 4 of The Price of My Sins
I thought my words would have her running out of my ride, but instead, this crazy girl looked like she was impressed by my words. I may have been drunk, but every word I spoke to Oliviawas the motherfucking truth. I’ll definitely crash the fuck out over what I consider mine. Whether it’s my family, my money, or my woman.
Olivia climbed into my lap, and the moment those golden honey-colored eyes locked on me as she slid that tight, wet pussy down my dick, I knew I was in trouble. This girl was going to have me shooting up clubs and killing niggas behind her. But what I didn’t know was that I would be the one hurt in the end.
Present
It was our last day in Aruba, and Olivia and I were posted up at the hotel casino. The buzz of slot machines, laughter, and low conversation filled the air, mixing with the scent of cigars and tropical cologne. But my eyes were on Olivia. Baby girl looked good sitting next to me in a black dress with her legs crossed, sipping something fruity like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her short blond hair was done up in some type of mohawk. With the tattoos and nose rings, she was giving off a sexy, edgy look but still classy.
Since the day after Boston and Denim tied the knot, the whole crew had scattered. Everybody started doing their own thing. The newlyweds? They dipped out of the reception like the last scene of a movie, and none of us had seen them since. And honestly, I wasn’t mad at all. That’s how it should be.
The casino wasn’t really my thing, but Olivia was enjoying herself. We were at the Blackjack table, and my baby was up twenty grand. She was on a roll and had the whole table hyping her. She was talking slick whenever she racked up chips. It felt like we were in our own little world—one where nothing else mattered but the right now.
But beneath the games and flirtation, I could feel that quiet heaviness neither of us wanted to name. We both knew this little fantasy was coming to an end. Planes were boarding tomorrow, and real life was waiting. And even though we hadn’t talked about what came next, I already hated the idea of her walking away from me when we got back to reality.
“Blackjack!” the dealer announced again, pushing another stack of chips her way. Olivia threw her hands in the air and did a little shimmy. She reached out and raked in her winnings with a grin that told the whole room she was that girl tonight.
“Ayeee! I’m on a roll! Mama needs a new pair of red bottoms!” she said, glancing over at me. “See, Big Bo? You ain’t the only baller in the building!” She gave me a playful wink.
“Let me borrow five dollars, then?” I joked.
“What are you going to do for me?” She leaned over, her juicy breasts hanging out the front of her dress, staring me in the face.
“Let’s go up to our room,” I said lowly, licking my lips. “And I’ll show you… for free.”
She raised a brow, lips curving with mischief. “Mmm. Free might be a little too cheap, Big Bo. Are you sure you're worth more than a couple of red bottoms?”
“I’ll buy you a closet full of ’em… but tonight, I’ll let you test drive my goods.” Grabbing her hand, I placed it on my hard dick.
She laughed, biting her bottom lip. “You are so nasty!” She giggled, scooping up her chips. “Let’s cash out, then, because I’m trying to ride that dick on a handstand.”
The way said that shit so seriously and without no shame had me ready to take her ass down right here.Olivia didn’t care what came out of her mouth. Her free spirit personality is one of the things that attracted me to her.
I pushed back from the table, stretching my legs as Olivia casually scooped up her chips and dropped them into her purse with a happy dance. She’d cleared close to thirty grand tonight,and that wasn’t even counting the stack she pulled from a poker table earlier. She was on fire, and she knew it.
As she stood up, tugging at the hem of her dress, which hugged every inch of her body, I caught the way the men around the table were watching her. Hungry—these niggas looked starved, as if they were seeing something they’d never touch but still couldn’t look away from.
I stepped to her side, brushing my hand across the small of her back. Then I let it dip lower, fingers spreading as I gripped a handful of her thick, soft backside. I smirked, eyes scanning the faces of the men that she’d just cleaned out. Some with hurt pride and others impressed.
“You tryna start something?” She glanced up at me with that devious smile.
“Hell yeah! And I’m gonna finish that shit with my dick in them guts. Girl, you better stop playing with me.”
Her lips curved, slow and slick. “Mmm. Yesss! Threaten me with a good time!”
She turned toward the cashier, hips swaying with purpose, knowing full well I was watching that ass. Olivia was a little on the slim side but thick in all the right places.
The elevator ride was all heat and silence. She was standing in front of me, close enough for her scent to settle on my skin but far enough to keep me wanting more. She didn’t even look back. She just stood there calm and cool, knowing I was watching, knowing my dick was itching to be inside her.
By the time we hit the suite, it was well past midnight. I hit the keycard on the magnet, and the door unlocked with a soft click. Olivia pushed it open, stepping inside like she owned the whole damn hotel. I followed, closing the door behind me and flicking the lock into place.
“It feels good to get out of them shoes. They’re definitely made for sitting pretty.” She giggled, tossing her purse on thecouch. She turned to face me, eyes shining, lips still curved in that smug little smile.
“You definitely made the shoes, baby.” I leaned in and stole a kiss, something I’d been doing all day. I wrapped my hands around her and unzipped her dress, letting it pool at her feet. “How about we shower and chill on the balcony for a bit? I want to smoke.” I pecked her lips a few times before leading her into the bedroom.
After we washed the day away, I grabbed a cigar and stepped out onto the balcony while Olivia disappeared into the bathroom to do her little skin shit she swore by every night.
As I sat on the balcony smoking my cigar, my mind drifted to my mother. I thought about how she would’ve loved Aruba. The breeze and the quiet. All that beauty? Yeah, Ma would’ve been out here barefoot in the sand, drink in hand, taking it all in like she was born for this life.
I took another pull from the cigar, letting the smoke sit in my lungs before exhaling slowly. Another piece of guilt that gnawed at my heart is that my mother never got the chance to travel. She never got to experience shit like this. She’d always talked about it, though. She said one day, she’d see the world. Paris, Morocco, Aruba; she’d name the places like she was ordering off a menu.
