Page 26 of Gotta Jones For Ya
“Yo, Knuck!”
“Wassup, youngin’? Ain’t seent you in a minute.”
“You know a nigga stay on the grind,” I said, hand sliding around Ny’s waist as we stepped up onto the curb. “This my baby right here.” She looked up at me, rollin’ her eyes a lil’. I ignored that shit.
The old heads was staring respectfully as we walked inside, whispering and shit. Nothing slick. Just that shit likewho she? Oh yeah, she bad,all in one glance. One of the aunties behind the register pointed at us and grinned real wide. “Ain’t this somethin’? Gon’ bring a pretty one in here. Go ‘head now, K!”
“Chill,” I said, chucklin’.
The spot was damn near empty, just like I liked it. I dapped up a lil’ nigga I knew who was gon’ make it to the pros one day, then I guided Nyomi to the booth in the back. It was the one I always claimed. She slid in, eyes still bouncin’ ‘round the restaurant, takin’ it all in. The hood quotes on the wall, pictures of celebs, TV’s playin’Belly.
“You come here a lot?” she asked.
“Been eatin’ here since I was a young nigga. They know how I like my plate. You eat catfish?”
She smirked. “Hell yeah.”
“Say less.”
I flagged down the waitress, gave her our order—fried catfish, mac, greens, cornbread, and two pomegranatelemonades. Shit was good as fuck. Then, I leaned back in the booth, my arm slung across the top.
“You always move like this?” she asked, eyeing me. “Like you own every room?”
I let my grin stretch. “I don’t move like I own ‘em. I just know my presence is felt.” She bit her lip at that and looked away like I didn’t catch the way that flustered her. “You know what I was thinkin’ ‘bout in the shower earlier?” I asked, low voice, eyes on her lips.
She raised a brow. “What?”
“That mouth. How come you ain’t bless a nigga yet wit’ them pretty lips wrapped ‘round my dick?”
“Keon!”
“Nah. Don’t ‘Keon’ me, baby. Them lips was made for suckin’ therapy, and I want a session tonight. Real slow. Real deep. I wanna see them eyes water and feel you hum on it like you tryna tell me how much you missed me without sayin’ a word.”
She covered her mouth wit' her hand, cheeks red. “You are so… crazy. Ugh!”
I grinned harder. “Only for you.” Right then, my phone lit up wit' Keema callin'. I hit accept and flipped it to FaceTime. “Aye. Look who I got wit’ me,” I said, anglin’ the screen to Nyomi, who looked both shocked and slightly frozen.
Keema squealed, “Awwwwww! I love to see it. Hey girl. I’m Keema, his sister-slash-therapist-slash-warden when he acts up.”
Nyomi laughed a lil’ bit. “Hey…”
“I been tryna get this deranged fool to slow down for years. Now look at him all cuffed up and whatnot,” Keema teased, squintin’ into the camera. “You keepin’ him in check, right?”
“Uh…
I caught the nerves underneath Nyomi’s demeanor and turned the camera back ‘round. “Now you know I can’t be checked. Watch that shit.”
Keema laughed. “Whatever, nigga. Bring her by Granny’s tomorrow.
“I was already doin’ that, aggy,” I said and hung up before she could get more jokes off. Nyomi sat back slowly, blinkin’, then sipped her lemonade like she needed to reset. I just leaned in closer. “And don’t think you gettin’ outta showin’ me what that mouth. I’m tryna feel if you got your tonsils removed or not, like you really posted about.”
She laughed, head tilted back, lookin’ like sunlight on caramel. “You so damn nasty. Can we digest first?”
Leanin’ back in that booth, one arm stretched across the back and the other laid on the table, I rubbed my stomach and stared at her wit’ a lazy-ass grin. “Nah, for real. You ready to go back to the crib so we can lay up and then slip and slide between the sheets?”
“I really meant digest our food, nasty. And then, I don’t know, do something else. Go somewhere else.”
I smirked and shrugged. “I digest better wit’ pussy on my tongue. But go ‘head, tell me what you tryna get into.”
