“Nah, I want you”—he kisses me again—“to myself da whole”—more kisses—“weekend.” He slips his tongue in my mouth. Ho, get this nigga up outta here ’fore you end up fuckin’ ’im again.
“I’ll think ’bout it,” I tell ’im, jumpin’ off’a the counter, then poppin’ my hips back into the bedroom. He follows behind me, grabbin’ at my ass. “Nigga, will you stop.”
“Daaaaamn, you gotta bangin’-booty. All fat ’n juicy and what-not; I want sum’a that.”
I snap my neck ova at ’im. “Nigga, puhleeze. You jokin’, right?”
“Nah, I’m dead-ass. I been meanin’ to ask you when you gonna let me hit that.”
I walk into my walk-in, then open up my trunk. “So, let me get this straight. A muhfucka who ain’t my man and ain’t put no ring on it thinks a bitch should let ’im run his dick all up in ’er ass, right?”
“Baby, I’m tryna be ya man, but you keep frontin’.”
I keep searchin’ for what I’m lookin’ for. “Yeah, well, I want da ring muhfucka.”
He laughs. “How ’bout you let me test run it, first. Then we can talk ’bout it.”
When I find what I need, I walk back out into the bedroom. “Well, I tell you what. Since you ain’t tryna put no ring on it, how ’bout you let a bitch run this”—I swing a twelve-inch dildo at ’im—“up in you, then you tell me if you still wanna hit this ass.”
He laughs. “Hahahaha; you got jokes, right?”
I smirk. “Nah, nigga. I’m dead-ass. Let me fuck ya asshole out da frame wit’ my lil’ friend, then we can talk ’bout you gettin’ up in this juicy ass.”
He shakes his head, slippin’ on his underwear. “Whatever, yo. You can cancel that shit. It ain’t happenin’.”
I shrug, tossin’ the dildo onto the bed. “Oh well, then I guess you don’t get none’a this.”
He slips on his jeans. “Yeah, aiight. I need to leave a change of clothes here.”
I tilt my head and look at his ass like he’s crazy. “Oh no da hell you don’t. You ain’t leavin’ shit up in here. When you go, e’erything else goes, includin’ that toothbrush I gave you.”
I walk outta the room and head downstairs. He follows me.
“Yo, you real extra; you know that, right?”
“I know it’s time for you to go. I got things to do.”
“Like what?”
I shoot ’im a look ova my shoulder, suckin’ my teeth. “Nigga, like none’a damn business.” I watch ’im pull out his phone, then turn it on. I decide to ask ’im why e’erytime he’s wit’ me he turns the shit off. He tells
me e’erything shuts down when he’s wit’ me ’cause he ain’t tryna have a buncha distractions. That there’s no one else he needs to talk to. “Hmmmm,” is the only thing I say.
“What, you think I’m bullshittin’?”
I eye ’im, puttin’ a hand on my hip. “I think it’s time for you to be gone.”
He walks up on me. “Yo, check this shit out. You da the first chick I ever turned my phone off for. I don’t even check da shit when I’m wit’ you. No other broad ever got that. So all that ‘hmmm’-in’ you doin’, save it.” He eyes me. “Stop tryna look for shit. I’m keepin’ e’erything on board wit’ you.”
“Nigga, I ain’t lookin’ for shit. Whateva you do is what you do.”
He leans down and kisses me. The muhfucka’s lips are soft ’n juicy. “Yo, I’ma call you later, aiight.”
“If you want,” I say nonchalantly, walkin’ ova to the door.
“Yo, Kat, real shit…stop fuckin’ frontin’ on a muhfucka. You know you feelin’ me, so let’s see if we can make this shit pop.”
“You right. But know this. I’m not da kinda bitch who lives wit’ regrets, so, do not have me regret fuckin’ wit’ you.”