“It’s growing pains, baby.”
I could’ve and tried but failed.
She laid her head on my chest.
“When you said people run from you, is this what you meant?”
“Nah, that’s a cosmetic flaw. I’m talking about the darkness. I’m me for a reason.”
“And I want to get to know all of you.”
“You still tryin’ to ride with me after seeing this?”
I grabbed her, placing her on top of me. She yelped with a giggle. I smiled. Although we couldn’t see each other’s faces, I hoped she felt what I did.
She kissed my lips. “I’ll stay through the rain. Just make sure you hold the umbrella because when you let it fall, so will we.”
Wrapping my arms around her, locking her in place, my fingers melted into her skin. Sliding my hands down to her ass, I spread her cheeks before lowering her down onto my dick.
“Lord. I think I made a mistake saying yes to you.” She giggled.
“It was an open book test, and you still chose your answer.”
Locking her in place, I slipped into her. She buckled, pressing her hands into my biceps. Her nails scrapped against my skin. Not enough to break skin but enough for me to know that’s the spot. She slowly rocked her hips before lifting her head and coming down again. Using my tongue as a muffle to hide her screams, I lift her head up, wrapping my hand around her throat.
“It was the right one.” She smiled.
Morrison called for a meeting. I already knew when I walked in it was some bullshit. Nigga been tense since the premiere. Been blowing my line up since. I wasn’t fucking with it.
I slouched deeper into the seat across from him, hands in the pouch of my hoodie. Unfazed by him or his presence.
“What you want, Morrison?”
He exhaled.
“You need to think about the brand. You’re the newest star.”
He dropped the tabloid’s photos down of Eris and I from the premiere. We looked good as fuck. I wasn’t worried about none of that shit he was talking about.
“A woman just–”
“She ain’t going nowhere.” I leaned forward. “Now what?”
‘You lose one fight–”
“You still got to get paid, nigga,” I interrupted. “I show up. I bleed. I’m the product. Don’t worry about my personal life.”
Silence.
He slid more photos my way.
I frowned. Instantly, I wasn’t fucking with the heavily photoshopped photos. Most of my tattoos were gone and I looked like a clean-cut, lame ass nigga. This wasn’t me.
“Who the fuck is this?” I asked, tossing the pictures back down.
“It’s you. Without all the tattoos.” He glanced at the photo. “You clean up nice.”
“That ain’t me.”
