Page 50 of Don't Kross Me
“‘Niyis, can I ask you something?” Kross asked while running his hand over the barrel twists Remedy styled Aniyis’ dreads in. He nodded his head, awaiting the question his father had for him.
“Mommy ain’t never brought nobody around you that you ain’t know?”
“No, not that I can remember.”
“You never heard or saw her talking to anybody about you?”
Again, Aniyis shook his head. “Only you, TiTi ‘Moura, Uncle Zeek, my teacher, my football coach and sometimes her customers too because I used to be in her studio after school while she was working.”
Kross couldn’t help but to chuckle at Aniyis’ innocence. Clearly, he didn’t witness nor was he introduced to anyone who could’ve possibly been his father as well. A part of Kross appreciated that Cassie didn’t confuse his son and wasn’t playing in his face, but the other part of him wished someone had some answers for him.
“You know I’m your daddy right and I’ll do anything for you?” He kissed Aniyis’ cheek.
“Yes, but, Daddy, why are you asking me all these weird questions?” Aniyis asked straightforwardly, reminding him so much of himself.
In laughter, Kross shook his head. “No reason, son. My fault for making you feel like I was giving you the third degree.”
“It’s okay,” Aniyis assured him. “Can we go play the game now?”
“Fa’sho,” he agreed.
For the rest of the evening, Kross kicked it with Aniyis and tried his best to push the burning question of his paternity to the back of his mind. After Aniyis fell asleep, Kross said goodbye to his mother and Andres before he got in his car and headed to the condo. If it wasn’t for the text he got from Remedy, he would have forgotten all about the dinner reservations he made for them. He just had so much shit going on, he could barely balance it all.
Promptly after his shower, he got dressed in a navy-blue short-sleeved Prada button up shirt and made sure to keep the first two buttons undone to showcase his iced-out chains. Hisbottom half was adorned with a pair of black Banana Republic chinos that fit him and his height so well, they looked as if they had been tailored for him. He stepped into a pair of patent leather Prada sneakers that coordinated perfectly with the color of his shirt. Before he left the home, he made sure to secure his wrist in his Cartier watch and spray his pulse points with his favorite Bond No. 9 cologne.
Once he left the condo, he followed the GPS to the address Remedy gave him to pick her up. For tonight, she ended up getting ready at her good friend and hairstylist’s high rise. Things were still very fresh with Kross, and Tone was bat shit crazy, so she didn’t want to risk him finding out that she was sneaking around. Kross made her feel good, and she wanted to preserve that feeling for as long as she could before the things she did in the dark came to the light. He arrived at the address and made a call to Remedy for her to come down. It didn’t take long for her to step out of the elevator in the parking garage and catch his eye immediately.
She took heed to his request to see her in a black number. Tonight, she laced herself in an onyx black dress that was sleeveless and had a deep plunging neckline. The dress was backless and allowed Kross to see that the colorful tattoo she had on her side and wrapped around her thigh also extended up her spine. The vibrancy of the colorful flowers tatted on her honey golden skin was sexy as fuck. Kross fantasized about how it would look while thrusting deep back shots into her. Her black and gold padlock Tom Ford heels clicked against the cement of the parking garage with every step she took. Instead of her hair being bone straight like the last time he saw her, she switched it up and gave a grown and sexy vibe with big and voluminous curls all throughout her toned, blonde tresses. As always, her makeup was done to perfection, amplifying her natural beauty. As Kross stood against the front of his Maybach, the closer shegot, his nose was filled with the delightful scent of her Oriana perfume from Parfums de Marly. The orange blossom and raspberry notes made her smell good enough to eat, and Kross was tempted to do just that.
“I see you’re not as hardheaded as you put on to be.” Kross smirked as he extended his hand to her.
A light laugh aired out of her as she sat her hand in his. “I listen when I want to.”
Pulling her into his chest, he wrapped his muscular arms around her. She melted in his embrace while locking her arms around his neck. He never missed the opportunity to grab what she was blessed with, so his hands gravitated below her petite waist and gripped two handfuls of her ass. His rough touch caused her dress to rise up and almost expose the thong she had on. Remedy laughed while she quickly tried to pull her dress down.
“You got way too much ass to be in this little-ass dress, shawty,” Kross chuckled as he aided her with pulling the dress down.
“It fits. I just gotta be careful,” she assured him as he led her to the passenger side of his Maybach.
He held the door open for her and assisted her inside. “You look gorgeous, love,” he complimented her with a smile full of gold grills. She smirked as he went the extra mile to strap her in the seatbelt. His hand brushing against her breasts instantly caused her nipples to harden and poke out of the dress she had on.
“You look handsome. You clean up nice,” she complimented him as she ran her fingers through his thick beard.
“‘Preciate it.”
After ensuring she was strapped in, Kross made his way around and got in the car. They peeled out of the parking garage and hit the road to the slowed down mixes of Kodak Black thatboomed through the speakers of the car. It didn’t take long for them to hit I-195 interstate, which gave Remedy the indication that they were headed toward South Beach.
“Nigga, this shit is not romantic,” Remedy jested with a laugh as she reached over and turned the music off.
“Who said I was trying to romance you?”
“You better be if you got me in this dress and these heels that hurt my damn feet,” she scoffed with her face screwed up.
Kross could tell she was on the verge of catching an attitude, so he let out a smooth chuckle while sitting his hand on her thigh. “I’m just fucking with you, shawty. A nigga can be romantic.” He tapped his finger against the screen on the dashboard to shuffle through the music.
He was a Florida nigga through and through, so all his music was chopped and screwed. As the car vibrated with his song of choice, Remedy pursed her lips, trying her best to conceal the smile that wanted to surface on her face. Plies and Kodak Black’s song, “Real Hitta” sounded throughout the car as he slid down the interstate.
“You think you’re funny?” she asked him with a playful mean mug.
