"Have you been getting my texts?"
"Naw, 'cause most of them involve you beggin' for fuckin' money. That's all you good at doin'!"
Noticing the shift in the room's atmosphere—the tension thickening like smoke—I decided to head to the kitchen to prepare lunch for the kids. They trailed behind me like little ducklings, their eyes wide and hopeful.
That felt awkward, so leaving was part of it too.
Trecee was always bluffing—saying this and that to stunt on Mimi and me about how good she had it. But this—this is how she really gets treated.
Romelo didn't have to bring me here, but I didn't fight him on it.
I missed my cousins so much, and Trecee didn't have much of a say in anything these days.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROMELO “ROME” JONES
Synthia walked past me toward the kitchen, and I caught a whiff of that sweet peach scent—the one that always made my dick hard and my mind go blank. It slapped me across the face like a physical force, making me do a double-take.
My eyes followed the sway of her ass as she moved, each step making those thick thighs rub together. The shorts she had on were riding up, and I could see the bottom curve of her ass cheeks peeking out.
Fuck.
I'd be ruled ill-mannered if I grabbed her by the arm right now, dragged her into my bedroom, and fucked her seven ways 'til Sunday. The urge was so strong I had to clench my fists to keep from acting on it.
That little stunt she pulled earlier in the shower—getting on her knees, trying to suck my dick with zero experience—had pissed me off and turned me on at the same time.
If you're gonna get down on your knees and put a dick in your mouth, you better know what the fuck you're doing. Period.
I would've slapped the shit out of any other bitch for wasting my time like that. But Synthia's mouth was a virgin hole—onlyused for food and smart-ass comments, never touched by a dick. She didn't know any better.
For now, I let it slide.
But I'd be sure to teach her the right way when the time came. And she'd learn, whether she wanted to or not.
Being the dog-ass nigga I am, I didn't take my eyes off her until she disappeared completely into the kitchen. The kids—Moriah, Monterrius, and the others—trailed behind her like she was the Pied Piper, their little voices chirping with excitement about being hungry.
I heard cabinet doors opening. The sound of pots clanging. Water running. Synthia was already getting to work, doing what Trecee should've been doing all along.
Trecee's attention was still glued to her phone, her thumb scrolling rapidly across the screen. She was so absorbed she didn't even notice I'd been eye-fucking her cousin for the past thirty seconds.
Good.
Sighing, I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my joggers and leaned against the wall. The cool surface pressed against my back through my thin white tee. I could still feel the dull throb from the bullet graze on my forehead—not painful, just a reminder of the stupid shit I'd done earlier.
"Wassup, Trecee," I said, my tone flat and uninterested.
She glanced up at me, finally tearing her attention away from her phone. Her eyebrows furrowed together, and her lips pressed into a thin line. I could already tell she was about to start some shit.
"What the fuck are you doing bringingherhere?" she hissed in a harsh whisper, her head nodding sharply toward the kitchen where Synthia had disappeared. “And what happened to your head?”
Her tone was accusatory, like I'd committed some unforgivable sin by letting her cousin ride in my car.
I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. "Because I'm grown. You don't have a say-so in who I bring inside of my house. I don't have to consider what the fuck you think." I responded one question instead of the other one.
It was the truth. This wasmyhouse. My name on the deed. My money that paid for it. Trecee didn't contribute shit except drama and complaints.
"Are you serious right now?" She gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her hip as she shifted her weight to one side like she was in a damn Tyler Perry movie.
