Page 18 of Smoke

I blinked, realizing my dick was pressed against her. I took a step back.

“How about we shoot a few more rounds?” I suggested.

I didn’t give her a chance to respond before I went to the gun safe to grab a second gun, more bullets, and to calm my ass the fuck down.

“Wait a minute!He had his dick on you?” Renay exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. She’d come to bring me lunch. Of course, she had questions about my training session. It was very clear that there was some sort of attraction between Devin and me. The list of moments we shared was growing a little too fast for my liking. We couldn’t have anything between us but space.

“It definitely wasn’t a gun,” I said, popping a fry into my mouth.

She smirked. “Was it big?”

I blushed. “Girl.”

Renay’s dramatic ass squealed. “Oooo, bitch!”

“I don’t even think he was fully hard?—”

“Stop! I can’t take it.”

“Would you keep it down? Damn. You act like I said I had sex with the man.”

“You know you want that dick.”

“Number one, I don’t know that man. Number two, I’m pregnant?—”

“So. A bitch can’t get some dick because she’s pregnant? If he doesn’t care, why would you?”

“What would people think, Nay?”

“Girl, fuck people. The dick you take doesn’t make anybody else cum. You don’t owe the world an explanation for who’s in your bed.”

I rolled my eyes. “Anyway! Aside from that incident, the training went well. He said I’m a natural and doesn’t think I’ll need the full training time frame.”

“Well, that’s good. You can pop Patrick’s bitch ass quicker if need be.”

I sighed. “I really don’t want it to come to that, Renay. I’d never forgive myself for taking a life.”

“Yes, you will, because I wouldn’t let you hold on to that guilt. You have every right to defend yourself and your children from a tyrant. The police aren’t doing their job well enough, and if his mama and daddy had done it at all, he wouldn’t be like this. I mean, the nigga’s daddy has been holding that city title for well over fifteen years, so I know he makes good money. Yet his son wants to be a dope boy so bad. Please. He doesn’t even have a street name. Who’s afraid of a nigga named Patrick?”

Renay was so serious about her unseriousness. Sometimes, I wondered if our parents dropped her on her head.

“I mean, Devin’s father and brother are named Stanley,” I pointed out with a snicker.

“They don’t count. His daddy’s reputation precedes him, and everyone knows to call his brother Deuce. I’ve heard stories about that man, and he isn’t to be fucked with. Oooo, sissy, you’re gonna have a black mafia ass nigga.”

I rolled my eyes. “Renay, please.”

“Nope. I’m wishing all that protective, big dick energy on you. The Dillingers are two for six with being locked down. Watch you be number three.”

I didn’t even say anything to that. Once my sister got an idea in her head, she’d convince herself she was right. She called it manifesting. I called it slightly delusional. She meant no harm, though, so I let it go.

We spent another thirty minutes eating and talking before I walked her out back so she could leave. I watched until she pulled out of the parking lot before I turned to go back inside. Immediately, I bumped into a hard body. I looked up into the face of Patrick.

My hands immediately went to my belly. I’d taken off my scrub jacket, and instead of my usual oversized scrub top, I was wearing a plain white tee with my pregnant belly very much on display. He stared down at me, his eyes dropping to my stomach.

“You’re pregnant?”

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