I gripped her hips as she slid down my cock, up and down in a quick dragging motion that had me breaking out in a sweat. Her heavy tits hung in perfect teardrops, her belly slightly protruded as she rode my cock. I wanted to thrust into her, but I was too mesmerized by watching her hips grind, her head fall back in pleasure to do anything more than enjoy.
“Do you smell that?” I frowned as a hint of smoke touched my nostrils but Rocky continued to ride me.
“No. Yes.” She froze and looked me. “Shit, yeah. Smoke.”
She didn’t breathe for a moment and then she was off me in a flash, giving no thought to the precarious position we’d just been in. “Why do I smell smoke?”
While she paced the room naked, I slipped on a pair of jeans from the floor and placed my hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing. I made sure she looked in my eyes until she was calm.
“Quiet. I’ll go check things out, stay here.”
“I’ll call 911.”
“Not this time, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead and grabbed my piece. “I’ll let you know if I need the cops but maybe put some clothes on?”
“Bananas. Say bananas if you need help. I’ll call the cops and come get your six,” she said confidently.
My eyes went wide, and I smiled. “My six? How do you know about six?”
“I know it’s military for I got your back, cowboy. I know a lotta things you don’t know.”
“Good to know,” I told her and slipped out, on alert as the smell of smoke grew stronger. At the end of the hall I spotted the source of the smell, a burning potato chip bag in the ashtray on the coffee table. And on my sofa sat a big ass black man with a bald head. He was at least three hundred pounds and wider than my stainless still fridge.
He heard me coming and tossed some words over his shoulder. “Damn man, I was wondering how many of these fuckers I’d have to burn before you lovebirds smelled it.” The psychopath laughed like this was a normal everyday fucking occurrence and held up a paper bag filled with bags of potato chips.
“Big Boy.” The other goon I had decked in San Diego when he tried to strong arm Rocky. “You don’t write, you don’t call . . .”
He nodded, smiling up at me as he swiveled his head on that massive neck.
“You got one minute to tell me why you’re in my fucking house before I put a bullet in your mother fucking head.” I braced myself for him to try and fight me or take my gun.
Instead the fucker put his hands up and grinned. “Boss is willing to take Rochelle for a few weeks while she plans a job for him and then you can have her back.”
“That’s not gonna happen, and I think you know that.”
He shrugged as I came around the sofa to see his face and more importantly, his hands. He was as ugly in broad daylight as he’d been in the club.
“I figured as much but that was the message, a short exchange. But if that’s not agreeable to you, then it’s war and I know your crew ain’t going to war over no piece of ass. No matter how hot she is.”
Smug bastard flashed a smile like he’d been privy to club business.
“There are things you don’t know, Big Boy. Things your boss doesn’t know either.”
I didn’t want to tell more people than I needed to about Rocky’s pregnancy, but I needed this asshole to know how serious this was.
“Yeah, like what things?”
“Like the fact that Rocky and I have been seeing each other since we ran into you that night.”
“Bullshit. We’ve been down there since then and you haven’t been there and she hasn’t been here.”
“You know, Rocky is a stubborn woman. I should be thanking you guys for finally getting her to move in with me. I asked and asked but she said it was too soon until you goons scared her into my arms. Thanks for that by the way.”
Big Boy wasn’t so jovial anymore and that wide toothpaste smile was a little dimmer.
“She’s worth going to war over?”
“Fuck yeah, she is. So is our baby.”