Page 29 of Anything Necessary for Her
Chuckling it off, she said, “I know you’re not the relationship type, so it just piqued my interest that you and Free would be talking about a woman.” She smirked, but I gave her nothing, as my mind had wandered to other shit en route to the outside parking lot of the warehouse. “Rue probably wishes she knew that before she messed with you. You ran that girl to the church.” Gaia laughed.
Rue was a bitch I fucked with a few years back. She was something like a girlfriend and only because she kept mentioning the shit. I’d eventually agreed to get her to shut the fuck up, hounding me about it. However, it made no difference on how a nigga moved, and she suffered the consequences of that shit. Now, she was heavy in the church.
Last year, however, she sought a nigga out, crying to me that although she was to be married in a week, she didn’t love that nigga the way she loved me and missed me. I explained that nothing had changed on my end, fucked the shit out of her, and sent her back to her soon-to-be husband, who, according to the streets, she’d married anyway, despite her confession.
“Be back here at five a.m. to meet Free,” was all I said as I slipped into my whip.
“Damn, we can’t go get food?” Gaia shouted as I cracked my driver’s side window.
“Go cook something for yo’ nigga!” I barked before flooring it in reverse and speeding off.
By the time I got home, it was dark as fuck and late as fuck. All I wanted to do was make a fucking sandwich, smoke, then brush my teeth and shower.
I did all of that in the exact order, and as soon as I lay down, I couldn’t think of shit but Banks St. Thomas.
Going onto social media, I looked her up and started to navigate through her pictures. She was beautiful, and her little body was the sexiest shit in the world to a nigga, even thoughher assets were smaller than what I typically gravitated toward. Everything was just right. She wasn’t too thick, wasn’t too skinny, but perfectly in the fucking middle, and I wouldn’t change shit. Her pussy was probably just as perfect too.
She even looked like she smelled good in her pictures, which I could confirm she did.
Just as I got to the bottom of her damn page, like a stalker, her name popped up on my phone, requesting a FaceTime. With no hesitation, I answered for her.
“You never responded to my text. You must’ve gotten caught up.” Her nicely shaped eyebrow hiked before she stood up, making it obvious she had her device propped up on something.
“I did,” I replied. “My bad. I told you I ain’t no big texter.”
“So you don’t text girls, you don’t call them, and you don’t cook for them. What do you do for them?”
“Make ’em cum if I feel like it,” I said, and she grinned widely.
“And that’s all they require?”
“Who knows. I don’t really stick around to find out. Even if I did, I wouldn’t care.”
“You are way too honest, Low-Low.”
“Only way I know how to be. What are you even doing?” I frowned, hating how she left the frame at times as she meandered about in her room.
She was wearing the same nightie she wore the night she cooked steaks, only this one was a soft ass pink and a little more see-through. In true Banks’ fashion, she didn’t have on any undergarments from what a nigga could see.
“Reorganizing my closet.”
“Stop leaving the camera, Banks.”
“Damn. You wanna see me that badly?” She walked up on the camera, and I hated that she had a nigga smirking. My cheeks felt weird as fuck, making me think I was blushing, which was against everything in the real nigga handbook.
“I would like to be able to see you, yes.” I nodded, lying back on my pillow.
“Okay, I can take a break.” She sighed dramatically. “You have so many tattoos.”
“I know.” I looked down at myself briefly. “It low-key became an addiction once I got my first one, and I just kept going.” I eyed my two sleeves and then my chest and abs.
“Thankfully that didn’t happen to me.” She turned to the side and lifted the fabric covering her ass slightly, expanding the already wide slit in it to show me the ballerina slippers tatted at the top of her ass. “I just have this one and . . .” She turned to tug on the side of the dress by her breasts to show me another tattoo in script font.
She knew what she was doing, and something about her doing it turned me on physically and mentally. Her sex appeal was on overflow.
I wasn’t exactly a fan of overzealous ass females nor was I fan of the timid type. There was something about a woman who knew she was sexy, though, and had no issue being sexy or purposefully enticing. Banks knew niggas wanted to fuck her, and she also knew thatthey knewthey couldn’t.
I was an exception, though, and she was making it clear to a nigga. I’d never been teased though. When I saw a woman I wanted, I usually got her immediately, so this shit right here was foreign to me.
