“I wanted you to be different,” she forced out.
I felt the weight lift from her shoulders.
“I am. Don’t ever group me with other niggas, because I’m nothing like nobody. No fucking body.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not enough,” she whispered, briefly placing her eyes on the bills.
“Then tell me how much and it’s yours.”
Royce could have whatever the fuck Royce wanted as long as I could have her.
“Unlimited access.”
I shrugged.
“Unlimited access is yours, my baby.”
I, too, wanted unlimited access.To her body. Her heart. Her mind. Her soul. Her.
Silence.
“What else will make this right, Royce?”
“You.”
I lifted her from the chair.
“You have me.”
I sat her body on the table, pushing her food away in the process. Her legs fell to the side of her. Her arousal widened my nostrils.
“All of you,” she clarified.
“You have it.”
I wasn’t sure how much of me she thought was mine, but her assumptions were inaccurate. Everything was hers to have. Nothing belonged to me anymore.
The black shirt I wore bunched in her fist as she pulled me forward. The shift was coming. I permitted it. My baby craved control of something, whether it be her emotions, her body, her heart, or me. She deserved it and could have it.
Anything for you, my baby.
“I’ve missed you,” I admitted.
“Don’t make a fool of my heart.”
I shook my head.
“I’m a lot of things, Ish, but I’m human underneath it all.”
I nodded.
Her layers were so plentiful and so beautiful. Her tough exterior was shelter for the softest parts of her. Royce was a lover. Royce was a fucker. Royce was a listener. Royce was a caretaker. Royce was a resource. Royce was a big ball of fluff. Soft to the touch.
“I love you.”
