His lips covered mine. “That’s just it, but I’ma let the lil pussy breathe.”
I cackled when he took a seat a few feet down from me. “What we watching?”
“I don’t know. I just came in here. We can go to sleep if you want to. You seem like you had a long day.” Before I knew it I was crawling into his lap eyes glues to his strong ass jawline. I was so obsessed with this man that I felt like I wanted to be in his skin looking out of his eyes. I needed to be that fucking close.
“Long as fuck.”
I nodded. “Then le?—”
He turned his face and his lips were on mine again. I welcomed him, even mentally begged myself to be feather weight when he picked me up and put my figure in his lap. Molded my legs on both sides of his body and melted into him. Accepting every press from his lips while my fingertips danced on the sides of his face.
Pressing into my fucking soul.
Smooching the words from
my sentences. Nonverbal
conversing. Physical
molding. My man,
my man, my man.
When I pulled back I just looked at him. Even now it still baffled me how we were like this. How he had me feeling like I’d known him my entire life like this. How I loved him so much ‘til sometimes I found myself begging God to give me space that I didn’t really want. I loved Malik so much until sometimes all that I felt for him threatened to smother me. It wasn’tnecessarily a bad thing, but the type of love I had for this nigga was dangerous to say the least. It was reciprocated in all the right ways, but it was consuming. Earthshattering, world overtaking… I saw it in moments like this when it was silent and we just existed…together.
“I know you been on me about this shop, shit you and Ro. But I had an idea,” he broke the silence.
“I’m listening, well to anything that means you investing in your craft.”
“I’m investing, but not in me.”
He threw me for a loop. “Then wh?—”
“You. I want you to get your own spot. Have your own shop.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against my chest.
My heart nearly exploded with the thought of him wanting to do this for me. Him wanting to invest in my dream and actually meaning it. The thing is I didn’t want that. I wanted him to think about him and how his tattoos could open doors. Legitimate doors.
“Though I don’t always understand what you do, and that shit completely baffles me I wanna see you flourish. Wanna see you have yo’ own.”
“I love you so much, you just don’t know. And I’m grateful for you wanting to invest in me, but I wanna see you invest in yourself. Wanna see you make this tattoo thing a brand. You know. You don’t have to sit in there and tattoo, shoot you can hire people to make the money for you. I’ve seen Empress do it a million times over. She takes a few clients, her regulars, but she lets the others go to the people who work there. She trusts their work and gets paid off their jobs.”
“Bu—”
“No buts. Baby you got this, and I believe in you. What can I do to help you with this? What can I do for you? Want me tocome in there and work the counter? Wearing a crop top with yo’ brand?”
He chuckled, before letting his head lay back against the sofa. This nigga was really thinking about what I could do for him.
“Don’t think too hard now.”
“I’ma do it, but you gotta let me do something.” By now his hand was at my neck and he was giving me a fresh ass look. One of those looks that had me scared to hear what was about to come out of his mouth. “I want my name, right here.” His hand was now on my collarbone.
I bit into my bottom lip peering at him. “That’s it? And where will my name go?”
“Wherever you want it. And nah that ain’t it.” He winked.
I nodded my head hesitantly. “Big Mama said never to let a nigga brand you, means you belong to ‘em.”
“For fucking life.” He leaned forward again pressing his lips to my chest, but this time allowing his hands to travel up my dress. “You ain’t gonna ask me what else I want?” he asked between pecks rot my chest.