“Fuck you,” I slapped the money out of his hand and stormed out of the room with my mind made up. Cash Banks and Peachtree Memorial could both kiss my whole ass.
CHAPTER5
CASH “MONEY” BANKS
THREE MONTHS LATER…
My body jerked,and I let out a low grunt as I came in her mouth. Princess didn’t flinch, looking up at me through her thick lashes as she swallowed like a champ.
“Mmm… still taste good, Money,” she purred, licking her lips.
I rolled my neck and blew out a hard breath as I fixed my boxers and headed for the bathroom. I wiped myself down with a warm washcloth before pulling on my pants and checked myself in the mirror.
Despite everything, I was still him. I ran a hand over my freshly trimmed beard, adjusted my collar, and slid on the new AP watch I’d treated myself to.
When I stepped back out, Princess was perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, smiling like she hadn’t just been choking on my dick.
“You look good, Daddy,” she said.
“Mm,” I hummed in response. I could’ve had on a cruddy outfit, smelling like outside, and she still would’ve gotten on her knees for me. That’s just how Princess moved. Always playing a long game, thinking she was three moves ahead.
We had an on-again, mostly off-again thing—but ever since the shooting, she’d been trying to play nurse wifey. Cooking for me like I ain’t have a private chef. Fussing over me when I was still on pain meds, acting like we were in some kind of relationship.
She was definitely trying to get permanently chose this go-round, but that was never happening.
She’d been ran through by damn near every heavy hitter in the city—rappers, hustlers, Tubi actors, whoever had a little paper. That wasn’t the issue. I’d never been pressed about her body count. The problem was, Princess wasn’t as slick as she thought she was. She swore she was playing chess, but she moved like a groupie—chasing men to fund her lifestyle in the hopes that one of them would eventually wife her.
And no matter how many times we fell out, she always circled back, ‘cause none of them other niggas had motion like me.
“Come on, P,” I said, walking out of the room without acknowledging her compliment.
We were heading to the big-ass party Jelani insisted on throwing for me, calling it my “return to the streets.”
Like I ever really left.
I tried to get discharged a few days after I came out of the coma, but my body was too fucked up. I ended up hiring a private medical team to handle my recovery at my condo close to the hospital, because there was no way in hell I was eating that nasty-ass food for another month. It took a minute, but aside from the occasional phantom pains, I was still breathing.
That’s all that mattered.
And I was ready to smoke out the bitch-ass niggas who tried to take me out.
“I’m so excited!” Princess squealed, sliding into the back seat of the Maybach.
Hassan, my driver, gave me a nod in the rearview mirror. “You lookin’ like your old self, Money.”
“Appreciate that, bruh,” I smiled, climbing in beside her.
She was already pouring herself a glass of champagne from the center console.
“Damn, you couldn’t put your seatbelt on first?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She giggled, passing me the glass. “This was for you.”
I side-eyed her, taking it knowing damn well she wasn’t thinking about me. Honestly, this was probably the last night I fucked with her. I know she thought this invite meant we were taking things to the next level, but I just needed arm candy… and maybe a little pussy later.
Princess poured herself a glass and slid her hand between my thighs, rubbing on my crotch.
“Whatchu doing?” I asked, moving her hand away, even though I was starting to get hard.
