I whistled low. “Nah, now she got me interested inherbox.” I wrote her back and before I knew it, I done told her to fuck with me and fuck that toy. I could feel her energy through the screen as I pulled onto her street, slowing down while my eyes scanned the building numbers.
I parked, killed the engine, and grabbed the box. I adjusted my hoodie and checked my reflection in the dark screen of my phone. I wasn’t pressed for no pussy. I should’ve been keeping to myself, though. It was just something about this customer's energy through the phone that I was feeling.
I knocked once to let her know I was here. Then I leaned back against the wall, one hand holding the box at my side, the other scrolling through my phone. I checked myQuickieDropstats. After a few more, I’d easily clear my weekly goal.
The longer I stood there, the more curious I got about what type of woman answered back the way she did. She had clap-back energy and pussy confidence, and I liked that shit. Way too many women talked crazy, but was boring as hell in bed.
Just as I clicked into another app, the door opened and goddamn. She stood there, tall, leaning against the frame like she just knew she was bad in that black robe. It was tied just enough to keep things interesting but not enough to hide what she was working with. Smooth brown skin, perky titties poking, and thick thighs. Her hair was curled up, lip gloss popping, and she smelled good as fuck.
Raising one eyebrow, she looked dead at me like she wasn’t fazed at all. “Are you Ahmad?” she asked, one brow raised.
I nodded once. “You Taelyn?”
She smirked, leaning on the doorframe like she was deciding whether to let me leave or ruin her life. “Are you usually this nosy about what people order through that app?”
“Nah, I usually don’t give a fuck.” I lifted the box slightly. “But this shit… is different.”
She laughed under her breath and reached out for the package. Our hands brushed, and she looked me right in the eye when she asked, “So are youreallylike that, or are you just all talk?”
I let the smallest smile pull at the corner of my mouth. “They don’t call me the pussy monster for no reason, mamas.”
Her eyes dipped down to my lips. Then my arms. And then she stepped back, slow, just enough to leave the door open behind her. She didn’t say a word, and she didn’t have to. I licked my lips once and looked her up and down one more time, already knowing what it was. She was a freak and she was a little older than me. I could see it. Not the loud type of freaky, though. She had that closet freak aura.
It’d been a minute since I touched something that didn’t come with problems. And truthfully, I didn’t even know if she came with problems. All I knew was that Taelyn was looking like a meal and I was hungrier than a mahfucka.
Id i d n ’ ts a ya word. I just stepped back and left the door open behind me. If he caught the signal, he caught it. If not, I’d keep my package and he could disappear into the night. Either way, I wasn’t about to beg a man to stay. But the second I turned around and heard the door shut behind him, I knew he caught my drift.
My robe suddenly felt much thinner, and the tiny flicker of curiosity that had led me to let him in turned into a full-on fire crawling up my spine. Ahmad was fine as hell standing in my apartment.
He was tall, brown-skinned, and built like he hit the gym daily but the way he carried himself said he didn’t have to brag about it. Tattoos stretched down both arms, peeking out from under the sleeves of his black hoodie. His low cut was sharp under that black fitted pulled low, and every time he moved,his chains flashed like they had something to say. The gray sweatpants left nothing to the imagination, the Jordans on his feet were fresh, and the diamond stud in his ear gave big energy without him saying a word.
I watched him take in the room. His low, glassy eyes bounced from the candles, the dim lights, the bottle of Patron still half full on the coffee table, and the muted laptop screen that had been playing porn before he pulled up. I wasn’t hiding shit.
“Cute spot,” he said, voice deep as hell.
“Appreciate it.”
He raised one brow. “Wanna open your package, or…?”
I smirked, picking up my glass from the coffee table. “Maybe,” I said casually before taking a sip. “I guess that depends on you.”
He smiled that kind of smile that said he knew exactly who he was and exactly what he had for me. I turned the music back up a little. Brent Faiyaz's “Make It Out” was playing low in the background like the whole night had been waiting for this moment to cue up. Candlelight flickered against Ahmad’s skin as he stepped farther in.
“You want a drink?” I asked, walking toward the kitchen with the bottle.
He followed, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “All you got is Patron?”
“Looks like.”
“Guess I’ll fuck wit’ it,” he said, watching me open a cabinet.
“What do you usually drink?” I grabbed a glass, poured the liquor over ice, and slid it to him.
“Remy.” He leaned on the counter, watching me like he was waiting to see how far I was willing to take this. I didn’t flinch, not even a little bit.
“So what made you text me in the app?” I asked, watching him gulp down his drink.
“I was curious.”
