“Ouch!” I shouted and pushed him away from me as hard as I could.
He chuckled, and the next thing I knew, he grabbed me off the counter, bent me over, and slid inside me. I was wet from the saliva he left on me from the fucked-up head, so his forceful entrance wasn’t painful.
“Mmmm, that pussy wet now.” He pulled my head back and kissed my lips. I hated it when he wanted to have rough sex, but it would be over fast.
He pulled out and laid me on our cold, black marble floors in missionary. He sucked on my neck, and it hurt because he was leaving me hickeys. I silently cried to myself as Hurricane got his rocks off. Moments like this made me want to be with my brother.
“You’re mine, Yumila. You ever try to leave me for another nigga, I’ll kill you and that nigga,” he uttered coldly in my ear. My face was turned with my eyes closed, so he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.
“Okay.”
“Tell me you love me.” He gazed into my eyes as he stroked me slowly.
“I love you,” I replied innocently.
He planted a kiss on my lips and then picked up his pace again. Hurricane was hitting my G-spot so I rubbed my clit to get my nut. If I had to fuck when I didn’t feel like it, I was going to get off too. He let off inside me and then lay on top of me, tongue-kissing me until he caught his breath.
“Stop actin’ like I don’t dick you down good even when you hate a nigga. I’m about to shower and leave, though. I want your ass home when I come back.” He stood to his feet and disappeared into the house.
I didn’t want to see him anymore for the night, so I went to the guest room and locked the door. I showered until I heardhim leave. As soon as the front door slammed, I went to my room, dried off, lotioned, and then slipped on my knee-length silk Versace print robe. I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of Clicquot mixed with some Au Vodka to make it stronger. The vodka I drank was two hundred dollars a bottle, so I was aiming to be on my back, sleeping within an hour. I went to my bedroom balcony for some quiet time.
The cool summer breeze brushed against my exposed skin when I stepped outside, instantly relaxing me. The full moon glowed brightly, and I got caught in its light. I got lost in the silence but found myself in tears. The wind brushed my tears away for me as I sipped my drink. I pushed my day to the back of my mind because Hurricane’s episode had me thinking of Coast. I wished I could see him like Hurricane could, but his face was a blur unless I looked at pictures of him, which I didn’t do too often because the pain was still heavy on my heart.
I had fallen weak since he’d been gone, and I was desperate to be strong again. If he were alive, I wouldn’t have been in the relationship I was in. I was always off limits to my brother’s crew, but there was always Mula. Tall, dark skin with a wavy ass fade, juicy lips, and an immaculate dresser.
Mula had me in a chokehold privately for years. Had he ever persuaded me, I would’ve stood in that fight to be with him. I had a crush on him in the past, but he always treated me like a friend. We had history that I was sure he’d moved on from, such as our sacred moments when we were forced to be on the grind together. He was there for me the whole week I was planning Coast’s funeral, but as soon as Hurricane let it be known we were an item, all his care went out the door. I was fucked-up about it for a while, but I let that hurt go with every other pain I felt.
I snapped out of my thoughts when my phone vibrated on the balcony table. I looked at it and it was my event planner.
Jackie: Your reservation for the yacht for your brother’s birthday party was bumped to the top, so you will be able to rent it. It sails into Shore Deck the night before, so I’ll be decorating with my team as soon as it docks.
Me: Thank you, Jackie. My bro likes to party in style, so he’s going to enjoy looking down on his celebration.
Jackie: I’m sure he will. I’m going to make it exquisite for him.
I smiled as I set my phone down. My brother's birthday was in two weeks, so that was something I could look forward to. His birthday being around the corner was only going to bring out the worst in Hurricane…
MODEST GOON
I hadto see whatVelvet Southwas about. The second we touched down in front of the spot, I knew this wasn’t a regular club. The line was long, but the energy? Different. Hood niggas was in designer, bad bitches in Fashion Nova and Chanel, thescent of weed and cologne thick in the air. The neon sign above the door glowed like a siren call.
It wasghetto luxury. The walls were dark, the lights were low, VIP sections lined with black leather couches and gold tables, and the DJ spun trap all night. They loved out-of-towners here, and my girls and I slid right in, welcomed like we were born in Southwave. They gave us a free bottle and offered us a table, but we walked to work on the dancefloor. I wasn’t here for the club vibes. I was looking forhim. Mula.
I searched the dancefloor, scanning the bar, and every VIP section I could see. My heart raced every time I thought I saw his face. The music was loud, the bass hitting so hard it felt like it was in my chest, but all I could hear was that raspy, deep voice in my head... that smooth-ass California accent.
I had butterflies, and I hated that. I was damn near ready to give up when I felt a hand slide around my waist from the back, rough and possessive, and that voice—his voice—was in my ear, low and cocky as hell.
“Lookin’ for somebody, lil mama?”
I turned my head, and there he was. Mula.
I couldn’t even play it cool—my lips parted, and my body pressed into his.
“Yeah... maybe.”
He smirked like he already knew, his breath warm against my neck. His other hand gripped my inner thigh like it belonged there, a bottle of D’usse in his free hand.
My body heated up instantly. My stomach was tight, and my heart raced in my chest.
