Page 230 of Kentrell

I sat up a little straighter, tilting my head just enough to let a slow, knowing smile play at the corner of my mouth.

"I respectfully object to the characterization implied in your statement," I said, keeping my tone light but unmistakably pointed. "Additionally, I lack both personal knowledge and understanding of the meaning you’re attempting to ascribe to me… and I take great exception to the assumption that I do."

I blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence… and waited for the inevitable curse word that was definitely coming next.

“Man, fuck—A’ight, Zoe.” Kentrell’s jaw twitched, that little muscle jumping the way it always did when I pushed him too far. My laughter only made it worse… or better, depending on how you looked at it.

“Laugh now… cry later,” he warned, shaking his head like I hadn’t heard that one before. Then his voice dropped into a low, mocking falsetto. “‘Kentrell! Wait—oooh, I can’t!’”

My mouth fell open. “Oh, see! I jest… but you?—”

“Nah, it’s cool when you do it,” he cut me off, still grinning. “Lemme get my lil’ one-two combo.” He held his fists up like he was shadowboxing, making me double over with laughter.

When we finally settled down, his smile faded just enough for me to catch the quick glance he tossed out the window before looking back at me.

“I’ma see you later, a’ight?”

“Okay… bye, honey,” I said, dragging the word just to watch his grin spread wide and deep like it always did when I called him anything sweet. Honey. Baby. Bae. My man.

Ugh. I love this man.

The call ended, leaving me with that stupid, blissed-out grin still plastered across my face.

I stretched and yawned. Then immediately scowled at myself. “Nope. I just woke up. Not doing this,” I mumbled, forcing my body upright and giving myself a little pep talk.

Fighting off the sudden wave of grogginess, I hopped off the stool and made my way to the fridge. The second I opened it, I smirked. Sitting right there on the top shelf was a plate, neatly wrapped in plastic with a sticky note attached—my name written across it in that messy, all-caps scrawl of his.

He didn’t just leave… he made sure I’d eat.

He made sure I’d be comfortable.

He made sure I’d know… he was thinking about me.

“Ooh… pancakes!” I cooed, peeling back the plastic and popping the plate in the microwave.

“See… I don’t cook, I do clean… and he still gon’ gimme his ring!” I sang, flipping Cardi B’s lyrics as I bent over and gave the microwave a little show. Full twerk mode.

If the house cameras caught it… well, he knew what he signed up for.

The microwave beeped, but before I could grab my plate, my phone chimed from the kitchen island.

I scurried over, heart already skipping because I just knew…

Sure enough. Text from Kentrell.

Kentrell

You doing that on my dick tonight

I covered my mouth, laughing so hard I had to brace myself against the counter. “KENTRELL!” I hollered, knowing damn well he could hear me through whatever speakers or security system he had rigged up through Caldwell Manor.

My thighs clenched tight at the thought of actually doing it… throwing it back, just like that… right in the middle of his bed, no panties, just like he liked it.

“Lemme stop,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head and fanning my face as the microwave beeped again behind me.

But the damage was already done.

I was smiling. I was blushing.

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