When I laid her down, she looked up at me like she was seeing something she hadn’t seen in a long time.
My mouth found her skin like it was searching for something. I trailed kisses from her neck… her breasts… the curve of her belly. Every inch of her body was worshipped like I was trying to make up for every fucked-up thing I hadn’t done or said right.
She moaned low when I slid between her thighs. She was wet already… like she was waiting for me. I ate her slow, and with intention. Her legs trembling over my shoulders as she fisted the sheets.
“Kilo…” she whined. “Fuck…”
“I’m right here,” I growled, voice buried in her pussy.
She arched her back, trying to close her thighs around my head, but I held them open.
“Take it, mama,” I teased. “I know you ain’t tapping out already?”
She came with a loud cry, thighs clamping around me, while her hands caressed my smooth head.
I gently turned her over and slid in from the side, one hand gripping her hip, the other wrapped around her throat as I pulled her back into me.
“You gone run from me?” I grunted.
“No—”
“Good girl,” I growled, winding my hips into her.
She screamed, biting my forearm, but I didn’t let up.
“I told you. I’m right here,” I said against her ear. “Ain’t going nowhere.”
“Kilo… please…”
“What you begging for, mama?” I taunted. “What you need from me?”
She shook her head, breathless. “I…I need you. All of you.”
And she got it. Every inch. Every stroke. Every moan and growl that slipped from my mouth like a confession.
When I came, I buried my face in her neck and held her like she was the only thing holding me together. And maybe she was.
***
I didn’t say a word when I slid out of bed. Mel was out cold, one leg over my thigh like she didn’t want to let go, even in her sleep. I gently shifted her off, kissed her stomach, and grabbed my clothes. Moved slow, quiet. I didn’t want her waking up—not for this.
I threw on an all-black tee and jeans. I tucked my Glock in the waistband of my jeans, slipped on my hoodie, and left out and headed toward the warehouse. By the time I got there, Buck and Stacks were already posted up.
The air inside the warehouse was thick. Not with smoke, but with the looming energy of death. Stacks was leaned up against the wall, arms crossed. Buck was pacing the floor, like the disturbed muthafucka he was. My eyes zoomed in on the three fools tied to the chairs in the center of the room. One of them was already slumped over—barely conscious, with blood dripping from his mouth. The other one was screaming behind the duct tape with one eye swollen shut.
My eyes landed on Sean, and he held my gaze like he wasn’t moments away from death. He sat up straight, smirking, like this was a game he still had a shot at winning. “Took you long enough,” he spit. “Thought you was soft for a minute.” He smirked.
I stepped closer and peered down at this fuck nigga. “You got something to say to me? Say that shit now,” I told him.
He grinned. “I already said it. You sitting here like everything was all good. When you found out about Liberty, you were supposed to step the fuck up and break us off for taking yo’ slack,nigga. You living good as fuck and I needed my cut of that,” he spat.
“Is this nigga retarded or some shit?” Buck quizzed. “Nigga, do you even hear yo’ self? The fuck he owe you but a fuckin’ bullet?”
“He owes me for taking care of his fuckin’ daughter!” He bucked in the chair.
“You sound dumb as fuck,” Stacks cut in. “How the fuck you mad about some shit that yo’ bitch ass family concocted? That shit really makes sense to you? You act like my brother knew about that lil’ girl.”
“He should’ve kicked off some bread when he found out.”
