Page 18 of Anything Necessary for Her
“You not a bitch, so it don’t apply.”
She took me in for a moment, trying to keep her smile at bay but faltered. Even her closemouthed smile was tantalizing.
“Follow me.” She climbed out and went to get into her Jeep, the same one I’d remembered her getting during one of her end-of-summer get-togethers. I was surprised she still had the shit considering her parents were rich out the ass, and her rich ass brothers spoiled her too.
Against my better judgement and everything I’d been preaching to myself since I’d seen Banks as a grown woman, I started my whip and trailed her.
I’d been around Banks here and there since I was nineteen and never paid her much mind. I had too much shit going on, was hyper focused on money—still am—and had a thing for older bitches. But seeing her recently was like seeing her ass for the first time. She was the type of beautiful that got a nigga caught up staring. The type to get you in some real fucking trouble, like the shit I was doing right now. The type that made you wanna go hard in the paint so she could sit up and be pretty and spoiled for as long as she wanted.
When she pulled up to a fly ass townhouse, I was able to surmise that this was her shit. This was a bad fucking idea.
Banks was flirtatious as hell, and I wasn’t exactly the most chaste nigga, especially not when a woman as beautiful and fascinating as Banks St. Thomas was, was coming on to a nigga.
Long as I kept my loyalty to Asif in the back of my mind, though, I should be good. At least a nigga hoped so.
Climbing out, I checked my surroundings as I tucked my burner into my waist before trailing Banks up to her door.
Stepping inside, I noticed her spot looked as girly, clean, and expensive as I assumed her shit would. Of course it smelled good as hell in here, just like her.
Suddenly, I felt small like I didn’t belong in her presence, let alone her home. It wasn’t a money thing because I had plenty of the shit. Her aura was rich. Her mind was wealthy, whereas mine was more akin to the gutter.
“Have a seat and relax.” She turned on some music after having me remove my sneakers. “I have some steaks and have been thinking about them all day. I’m gonna season them and then shower while it rests. I won’t be long.” She gave me the rundown, and I simply nodded as I sat on her couch, taking in her living room.
“Relax, nigga. You just chilling.” I spoke softly to myself once Banks ventured to her kitchen to season the food.
“You don’t wanna watch TV?” she asked, coming out of the kitchen, headed to the stairs for her shower.
“I don’t really watch TV. May watch an early bird cartoon while I smash some cereal before I hit the streets, but I ain’t home enough to watch shit really.”
“I see.” She frowned briefly. “Okay, well I will be extra quick!”
It didn’t feel long at all for her to shower and come back out, wearing a short ass shiny material type dress with a split too high for her to have on underwear. I could see her nipples as she waved for me to come into the kitchen with her while she cooked.
Her long hair was clipped up with a few shorter pieces at the front, framing her face. Some furry ass socks were on her feet.
“You ain’t ask how I like my shit cooked?” I took a seat at her table.
Smirking, she asked, “How do you like your steak cooked, Mr. Harris?” She didn’t look my way as she allowed the pan to heat up with butter, some herbs, and garlic.
“Well done. I don’t want no blood or pink.”
“Ugh. At least let me make it medium-well.”
“No.” I sat back in the chair, doing the best I could to keep my eyes from drinking in the way her body looked in that tiny outfit.
Her titties weren’t big at all but just enough for me to cop a feel and suck on.
I kept having intrusive thoughts about setting her on this table, spreading her legs, and sucking on her pussy until she was creaming down my beard. That said a lot for a nigga who didn’t eat really.
I stroked said beard at the thought, adjusting myself every time she walked past me, moving around the kitchen with her nipples staring at a nigga.
I was able to confirm she wore no underwear by the slight jiggle of her toned, flawless ass. There was a small tattoo at the top of her left cheek—an image of some sort—but I couldn’t make it out due to the size of it and the color of her outfit.
“Fine.” She smacked her lips. “Oh, and don’t worry about my guard snitching. He and I actually get along, and he has agreed to only report what needs to be reported back.”
“I’m not worried. It’s just a meal.”
She got quiet for a moment, then said, “Okay. Good.”
