"It's not escorting—"
"Man, fuck all that you talking about. It’s selling pussy plain and simple." He turned to face me fully.
"Welp, if that’s whatchu’ wanna call it, it pays well."
"I don't give a fuck how well it pays." His voice was rising now.
"It’s a lot of money,"
"It ain't enough." He stood up, started pacing. "It ain't never gonna be enough for what you giving up. You out here letting these niggas think they can own you for a night if they pay the right price. You letting them touch you, look at you, think about you like you some fucking commodity they can purchase."
"You doing too much, Like forreal why do you even give a fuck? You not my man!"
"Yet."
The word hung in the air between us. He stepped closer, and I could see the intensity in his eyes, the way his chest was rising and falling.
"What?" I whispered.
"I said yet." He reached out, his hand gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. "But that's about to change real quick. 'Cause I ain't about to keep watching you give my shit away."
"Sosa, I'm not yours,”
"Yes the fuck you are." His grip tightened slightly. "Been mine since I first saw you, you just ain't know it yet. But you about to learn tonight."
"You can't just…."
"Watch me."
And then he kissed me. And it wasn't soft or gentle. It was rough, demanding, possessive. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that made my knees weak. His tongue pushed into my mouth, and I could taste the mint from his gum. His hands were everywhere, gripping my waist, sliding up my back, tangling in my hair and tugging hard enough to make me gasp.
And I kissed him back just as desperately, my hands gripping his shoulders, feeling his solid muscles beneath his shirt, pulling him closer.
We stumbled backward until my back hit the wall hard. He pressed his whole body against mine, and I could feel every hard muscle, every inch of him. One of his hands slid down to grip my ass, squeezing it hard.
"Fuck," he groaned against my lips. "You feel what you do to me, ma? You feel how hard you got me?"
I could. I could feel exactly what I did to him, his dick was hard and thick pressing against my stomach through his pants.
"Sosa," I breathed. His lips moved to my neck, biting hard enough to make me cry out, then sucking on the spot.
"You been teasing me all night in this dress, looking fine as fuck, body sitting right, and you thought you was gon’ go home with somebody else? Nah. Fuck that. That ain't how this works."
"I didn't—"
"You did." His hand found the zipper of my dress, yanking it down roughly. "But it's aight, I'm bout to fuck you until you forget every other nigga that ever touched you."
He pulled my dress down and it fell to my feet, pooling around my heels. I was left standing in just my black lace thong and strapless bra, and his eyes went dark as they raked over my body, lingering on my breasts, my hips, my thighs.
"Goddamn," he said in a husky tone. "Look at you. I swear you fucking perfect. Body stupid as fuck, ma. Face pretty as fuck. You look like a goddess."
His hands were on me immediately, they were rough and demanding, sliding over my curves, squeezing, groping. He reached behind me and unhooked my bra with one hand, pulling it off and tossing it aside. My breasts spilled free and he groaned.
"Fuck, look at them pretty ass titties," he muttered, his large hands cupping them, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they hardened into peaks. "Nipples juicy as hell."
He bent down and took one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his hand played with the other, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. I arched off the wall with a moan, my hands going to his head.
"Yea let daddy hear you bae," he said against my skin, switching to the other breast, his teeth grazing my nipple lightly.