Nyce
Monday | 10:00am
Sunlight crept inpast the curtains as I opened my eyes. Princess was still knocked out, curled into me like her body knew mine even when her mind didn’t. Her cheek was on my chest, one leg tossed over me, breathing soft and steady.
I stared at the ceiling for a long minute, jaw locked, thoughts loud. We fucked last night. That type of sex that was lethal. We fucked on the couch, up against the windows in the living room, and again in the bed. Shit was wrong, but it felt too fucking good. And her realizing I didn’t threaten her but was actually quoting a favorite poem of mine caught my ass off guard. I should’ve known she’d pick up on it.
My arm rested across her bare back, feeling the chill from where the sheets had slipped away. My other hand stayed rigid at my side, clenched tight, reining in everything that came with touching her, having her. My mind was gone… clouded… and I couldn’t afford it to be.
This shit wasn’t supposed to happen. Princess was a complication I didn’t need, a problem wrapped in softness and trauma and a mouth that made my name sound like it was holy. But now she was more than that, and I didn’t know what the fuck to do with it. Reaching over, I carefully picked up my burner phone and typed in the number I knew by heart.
I locked the screen and sat still for another moment, and then eased Princess off me slowly. She stirred a little but didn’t wake. Her lashes fluttered against her cheek, and I watched her for a second longer than I meant to. Then I got up and hit the shower.
Hot water ran over my back while my head stayed down, palms flat against the tile. I didn’t rush. My brain needed space. My body still remembered her moans, her nails dragging against my skin, and the way she held onto me like letting go would kill her. I wasn’t built to be a soft ass nigga. Not in this life. But something about last night didn’t feel like a mistake.
I toweled off, slipped into black jeans, a fitted tee, and clean sneakers. My chains hung heavy around my neck, as always. I stared in the mirror, unfamiliar with the look in my eyes. I’d never been with anyone like her. Usually, I kept women at arm’s length, fucked, and then moved on. But Princess wasn’t just anyone. She was a preacher’s daughter who made my chest tighten in a way it never had.
In the living room, I rolled up a blunt, sparked it, and sat back against the leather armchair. I took a long pull and let the smoke settle in my lungs. Business still needed handling. The meeting with Zeke had been a long time coming. I didn’t know which version of him would show up, but I was ready for whatever. It was time.
Taking another deep pull from the blunt, I heard footsteps in the hall. Princess appeared at the edge of my vision, wrapped in my black satin sheets, hair wild. The morning light made her look too fucking good, and I held the blunt between my fingers as my eyes finally met hers.
“Good morning,” she said softly.
I looked at her but didn’t say shit back. Her hopeful smile faded as my silence stretched, and I felt a pang in my chest, but I forced myself not to show it. Keeping my voice low and steady, I told her, “Go get showered and dressed. We gotta go.” Even as I spoke, I fought the urge to soften. Business, not feelings, had to come first.
She blinked. “What?”
I didn’t repeat myself. I brought the blunt to my lips and exhaled. She took a sharp breath, like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Confusion flickered on her face, then hardened into irritation. Her jaw clenched as she stared at me, wrapped in sheets, a question she suddenly didn’t know how to ask.
“Are you serious right now?” she finally asked.
I stood up, flicked ash into the tray. I snatched my phone and keys from the coffee table and leveled one last look at her. “Clock’s ticking.” I walked past. Whatever she felt, I had no room to carry. Not now. Business ruled. Anything I felt for her, I’d confront later.
I walked down the steps of the cabin, eyes low, chest tight, just as the Rolls-Royce SUV crept up the long driveway. Belvin pulled up with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. I opened the back door and climbed in without a word, shutting it behind me as he shifted the gear to park.
“You good?” he asked, glancing at me through the rearview as I settled into the seat.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“Everything in place?” He nodded. “Cool.” Silence settled with the engine's hum, my thoughts bouncing. I could still feel Princess on my chest. Belvin flicked ash out the window. “You seem off.”
I looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. “I’m never off.”
He studied me and didn’t say anything. Then, he said, “That girl got your mind gone.” My jaw flexed. He shook his head slowly, dragging on the cigarette. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”
I leaned back. “It’s just business.”
Belvin chuckled under his breath. “No, it’s not. You don’t touch business like that.” I didn’t answer. “She ain’t built for a nigga like you, Nyce,” he said after a beat. “Everything you’re into? This shit with her pops? It ain’t gonna end well, and you wanna dip in the pussy and fuck up.”
I kept my eyes on the trees dancing in the warm breeze. My voice came out low. “I know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“Hope so.”
A few moments later, the cabin door swung open, and Princess walked out, dick bricking up on sight. My whole chest did some weird shit. The orange dress she wore hugged her petite curves, and the brown sandals she had on made her little ass look cute as fuck. Her hair was now slicked up in a bun, not a single strand out of place. Lips glossed. Fine as fuck. But her eyes were blank, and her expression was stiff.
When she reached the SUV, she yanked the door open and climbed in without a word. She slammed the door so hard, I shot her a hard look, and she rolled her eyes back. “Where are we going?”
“Church.”
