Page 8 of Drill Session

“Do we have to talk about this shit right now?” He muttered before his mouth gaped open a little wider to yawn.

“Yes, ain’t that why I asked? I’m not sleepy anymore.”

“I’m her trainer. That’s it. That’s all. Her nigga was in the Navy. We used to kick it after a session or two. One night, she hit me up for some dick and I pulled through,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t in my lost of to-do’s to get her pregnant, shit just happened.”

“So, you always fuck women raw? That’s your thing,” I frowned with my top lip curled up in disgust, ready to judge the situation.

“I didn’t fuck her raw, the condom broke.”

“And you’re still her trainer,” I prowled.

“Would you be mad if I said this conversation is irrelevant and that bitch is part of the past?”

“I’d be mad if you didn’t want to continue this conversation,” I mumbled.

“I don’t let money get in the way of business. It was nothing but business when we started fucking and it’s strictly that now,” he shrugged again and cocked his head to the side to face the other way.

“Seems like you enjoyed fucking on thebusiness.”

My attitude started to rise, and he knew it. Drill and I have been throwing mixed signals in the air, playing with each other’s feelings but neither of us romanticized the art of being together. Since our fling, talking to other niggas and blushing at his contact number, whenever he called, didn’t feel right. I don’t see how women lust over and entertain more than one man at a time. I can’t get Drill out of my head for five seconds in a day to think about another nigga.

His eyes popped open before he turned his head and looked back at me. Slowly shifting his body to the other side, he grunted when he adjusted comfortably back on his side again. I jumped when he slapped me on the thigh and motioned for me to get off the headboard, by crooking his finger and wagging it. I displayed my attitude by shifting down and facing the other way, until he wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear after gently kissing it.

“I enjoyed fucking onyouwhen it’s supposed to be strictly business. You wasn’t paying me to put that hot ass Santa Claus suit on mane. That was a favor for a favor,” he said.

“How was it a favor for you?” I scoffed.

“In exchange I tasted that pretty ass pussy and made you nut in more ways than one on my tongue and on my dick. You better act like you fucking know.” He warned me.

“So, you’d be okay with me still talking to Corbin?”

He tittered then spoke, “The way I played in that nigga face, he shouldn’t have two words to say to you. If he was still trying to reach out, I wouldn’t be worried about you running into the arms of a bitch ass nigga. Your pussy curves to my dick, girl. That nigga can’t claim that. You’d be a fucking fool.”

“I really hate how fucking cocky you are,” I seethed.

“Nah,” he grinned and pulled me closer to him. “You love this cocky ass shit.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the truth. I loved that about him amongst other things. His cockiness didn’t triumph all of it, but it was a quality that I liked. When he spoke with his chest out to boast facts that I hated to admit sometimes, it swept me off my feet, just like the rest of his endearing qualities and daunting features, even the ones he didn’t think I paid attention to.

* * *

The subtle vibrationof my phone resting on my nightstand broke my light sleep. I whimpered at the way I was stuck in an uncomfortable position. Drill and I were in the same position we fell asleep in, with him holding me from the back, tightly clutching my body. Only this time, his hand was wrapped around my neck, while the other hand cuffed my pussy from the front.

“Drill,” I gently elbowed him to stir him awake. His heavy snoring implied he was deeply unconscious, almost comatose. “Daddy.” I called out again but still didn’t get a response.

Releasing a deep sigh, I reached my hand out and grabbed my phone. Squinting my eyes, I saw it was Lira calling me. Here it was six a.m., so it had to be 7 a.m. in Memphis. Although Memphis observes Central Standard Time, the one-hour difference from Eastern Standard Time wasn't a significant change. Knowing her, she was in her office, preparing for a client and going over files. Lira is the type of person who’s up at the crack of dawn and expects everybody else to be up with her, hence the reason for her call.

“Hello,” I grumbled into the speaker.

She greeted me in a chipper tone. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“You sound like you’re still in the bed, y’all must’ve had a long night and who is that snoring all loud like that in the damn background?” She cackled. “I know that ain’t Drill.”

“Girl,” I scoffed. “Who else is it? I’m about to FaceTime you so I can show you how he got me wrapped up, in a damn death grip like a kidnapper.”

Clicking the FaceTime option on the touch screen the signal had to connect before her pretty tawny colored face came into view. Her mouth gaped open when I put my face in the camera, showing her his hand around my neck first.

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