Star didn’t even know she wasn’t keeping my dick hard; it was fucking Suki. This shit was wild to me. I needed to shake the fuck back, maybe sleep this shit off because in the morning I won’t even be thinking about her ass.
She pulled back, looking up at me with those dough eyes under those caterpillar ass eyelashes. Her eyes were red. I couldn’t tell if it was from choking on my dick or how heavy them shits were so I reached down and yanked it off.
“Ouch! Why the fuck you do that?”
“Your shit red as the devil’s dick. I wanna see them tears when you choke on this monster. I can’t do that if those broom bristles blocking me.”
I yanked the other one off. She was too stunned to speak as she dropped her hand on her knees. Her legs were so skinny that both together might be as big as my fucking arm.
“You gon’ stare or suck this dick before it get soft?”
“You gon’ pay for my lashes?”
I went into my pocket, pulled out whatever was in there and dropped it on the floor. Her eyes lit up because she loved money. She got back on the dick. It wasn’t even the same.
My phone rang, so I pulled it out. It was Suki.
I thought about how she was looking on the other side of the phone then realized I was fucked up thinking I was a lame ass nigga for even thinking about her. Those tables turned quick. I watched Star’s head bob in the background while watching the screen until Suki hung up with a smile.
It was a small room for such a big night. Or at least that’s how the shit felt. A newer event– something I’d have to get used to with this newfound notoriety.
Standing in front of the mirror, I adjusted my cufflinks then my collar. Shirt and pants crisp, coat hanging over the back of the chair. I smoothed down the few wrinkles that the camera could pick up, and my stylist went over my pants with a lint brush.
“This was such a good color choice,” she said.
I gave a closed lip, curt nod. “’Preciate it.”
My phone rang on the table.
I let it ring while she worked then took the call.
“Yeah?”
It was Morrison.
“It’s a big night. You ready?” he asked, voice laced tight. “Remember what I said. Focus. No funny business. Clean. Everything else out the window.”
“I’m good.”
“Rayzor–”
“I fuckin’ heard you. You called just to say that shit again?”
“I jus–”
“She’s ready!” the stylist called out from the other room.
I hung up.
I slid into my coat, buttoning it up and turned. The double French doors opened. Everything slowed down and the background noise ceased. Nobody else matter or existed as the spotlight focused on Eris.
She walked in wearing a black halter-type dress hugging her curves. It gave enough peek for illusion, but classy enough for show. Hair up, curls falling to the side, makeup flawless with a nude lip with gold accents. Her shoulders shimmered.
Her perfume met me before she did.
“Damn,” I murmured.
“Everything okay?” she asked, pointing to my phone.
