"Yeah, yeah, I'll slide through later. Let me eat first... Nah, I'm good. I got company." He glanced back and caught me staring, then smiled. that dangerous ass smile that made my stomach flip.
"Aight, Hit me up lata fool,” he ended the call and tossed his phone on the counter.
"What’s up, you just gon' stand there watching a nigga or you gon' come get fed?"
"I was just…"
"Come here, Yah."
The way he said my name, all commanding and shit, made me move without thinking. I walked into the kitchen and he turned fully, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. His eyes dragged down my body slow, taking in how his shirt stretched across my titties and how his shorts hugged my hips and ass.
"Damn," he said, licking his lips. "My shit fit you perfect. Look good as fuck on all them curves."
"That right?" I tried to sound casual but my heart was pounding.
"Yeah." He pushed off the counter and walked up on me, backing me up until I hit the kitchen island. He caged me in with his arms on either side of me, dipping his head down so we was face to face. His hands gripped my hips.
"You sleep good?"
"Yeah."
"Good. That pussy still sore?"
My face got hot. "Sosa—"
"Answer me."
"...Yeah."
"Good." He kissed me, deep and slow. When he pulled back, his eyes were darker. "That means you gon' remember who you belong to now."
He turned back to the stove like he ain't just say some crazy possessive shit and started plating up food. I sat my ass down on one of the bar stools, trying to collect myself. My phone buzzed again.
Yatta.
Sosa set a plate in front of me, it had eggs scrambled with cheese, turkey bacon crispy as hell, grits with butter melting on top, and toast.
"You a cooking ass nigga too huh?" I asked, picking up the fork.
He laughed, sitting down next to me with his own plate and a glass of orange juice.
"Man, what you think? I ain't always have money like this. I learned to do for myself a long time ago." He dug into his food, then looked at me.
"Eat, ma. I ain't poison it." I took a bite of the eggs and damn near moaned.
"This good as hell."
"I know." He smirked, cocky as fuck. He watched me eat for a minute, then his expression shifted—still relaxed but more serious.
"So what's your situation, Yah? Real talk."
"My situation?"
"Yeah. Like what you got going on?”
"I thought we discussed this shit last night, I don’t think I need to go into detail about it anymore.”
"That’s where you wrong at, you do, I’m trying to figure out what I need to shut down." His voice was calm but firm. "So how many?"