Page 25 of Honey's Special Roux

The sight of the six feet, four inches of sexiness brought a smile to my face. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and skipped to him. He looked up from his phone and grinned. My smile immediately fell.

“Aw, hell naw,” I grumbled.

“Don’t start your shit, baby.”

“Aht. Don’t start your shit. Fresh cut and the grills in? Moving around the city unsupervised? I’m finna beat yo’ ass.”

“Don’t hurt me, bae.” He took the bag from me and put it in the back seat.

“Gimme those lips,” I demanded.

He placed his hand on the small of my back and dipped his head down to kiss me. He scattered kisses across my face and down my neck. He slid his hand down to grip my ass. A moan slid from my lips as I pushed him away.

“Don’t seduce me to make me forget you were out here whorin’ it up in the streets.”

“Man, gone on. You know you are the only one who gets all this dick, baby.”

“I better be. It’ll be a ten-inch dick on 45 I ever catch you cheating.”

“Yo, chill out with all that.”

“You chill.”

“Get yo’ crazy ass in the car.”

He opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed in. He’d gotten the all-black Escalade when he’d become the second in command in Merlot’s crew. I hated the lifestyle he lived, but it had garnered a lot of money over the last four years.

When he pulled out onto the busy evening roads, he placed his hand on my thigh and rubbed the area. I sat back and scrolled through my phone for a few minutes.

“You want to hit up our spot for margaritas and wings?” he asked.

“Definitely. I’ll have to take a shower first, but I’m down.”

“Cool. How was work?”

“It was great. I had several customers come up to me and thank me for how good their food was. Ron even said if I wanted a permanent role, I could come in after my certificate and work full time. It’s a good Plan B if opening my dream restaurant doesn’t work out.”

“Yo’ shit gon’ work fa sho. You are too talented for things not to work out in your favor.”

“God willing.”

I turned to look at him as he drove. Marquise was fine as hell. God sculpted his grown man features to perfection. His jawline was strong. He had a fresh low-cut fade, and his once smooth face had the perfect lined beard. I took credit for his beard connecting. Tattoos almost completely covered his bright, light skin. He had designs scattering his neck, arms, chest, abdomen, and back. He scheduled to get his right leg sleeve done in a few weeks.

He had pierced ears, and the diamonds danced under any type of lighting. My favorite features on him included his juicy lips and perfect teeth. He had a set of grills he popped into his mouth sometimes.

It was common knowledge to everyone in the city we would get married one day. He’d taken my virginity and had my heart under lock and key. No other man could ever compare to Marquise in my eyes—not that I would ever let them try, either.

* * *

“Yo! Big Marq, what’s goodie, foolie?”

I craned my neck to see someone approaching our car. We hadn’t even gotten two steps out of the car without Marquise being recognized. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as Marquise greeted the man with open arms. They dapped each other and started chatting.

“What are you doing on this side of town, Jerm?”

“Taking my ol’ lady to get a seafood boil. What y’all doing?”

“We here for the margaritas and wings.”

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