Addicted 2 Moni

Boss Baby

Moni POV

<Currently Tuesday 5:30 AM>

"Good morning, baby," I say, feeling Dewayne's warm hand rub slow circles on my hip from behind.

"Mmm," he groans low, voice still thick with sleep. "Damn, babygirl... You cooking a nigga breakfast now? Must be feeling that work I put in last night, huh?"

He kisses the back of my neck, and his lips are soft, but there's a cocky grin behind every word.

"Got a nigga ready to hit the jewelers right now," he adds, mouth hot against my skin.

I laugh, plating the last omelet and sliding pancakes onto his plate. I turn around slowly, facing that tall, chocolate frame of his. He's halfway dressed—suit pants fitted just right, shirt unbuttoned enough to expose his carved chest.

Lord.

I drag my nails down his chest, teasing, hooking one finger in the waistband of his slacks.

"You know damn well you not the 'locked down' type," I smirk, handing him the plate and placing a fork on top. "Plus, I got goals to accomplish before I even think about marriage."

He takes the plate, eyes never leaving mine.

"You gon' go head and get your accomplishments locked down," he says, kissing me slow, with a sweetness that almost distracts from the smack he delivers to my ass right after. "And I'm most definitely willing to be locked down to yo' ass."

"Mhm." I take the last bite of my breakfast burrito, licking the corner of my mouth before grabbing my purse off the counter.

As I head toward the door, I hear him call out, mid-chew.

"Baby, you leaving already?"

"Yeah, I gotta stop by my place real quick before I head in," I say, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

His whole energy shifts.

"I thought I told you—you not going back there unless I'm with you," Dewayne says, voice low and serious. His eyes lock onto mine like laser beams.

This nigga looking at me like I'm a teenager sneaking out past curfew.

"Ughh, Waynneee," I groan, rolling my eyes. "I haven't even been to my own place in over a month."

He doesn't budge. That same hard stare stays pinned on me like he sees something I don't.

"Fine. Fine," I huff. "I guess I'll go after work."

I reach for the doorknob—

"Who the hell you rolling your eyes at?" Dewayne strides over, blocking the door with one hand.

"Nigga, you the only one here. Who else?" I snap, turning back toward him.

He grabs my neck—not rough, not soft either. Just enough to make my breath hitch.

"You know I'm just lookin' out for you, stubborn ass," he says, locking eyes with me.

I bite my lip hard, fighting the moan rising in my throat. His gaze burns right through me, and now I'm hot under my clothes, again.

"I don't know who gave you that idea. You not my dad. I can handle myself," I say, pushing back—but weakly, caught in the heat building between us.

"I did. And you right... I ain't your dad."

He leans closer, breath ghosting over my lips.

"I'm your daddy."

He pulls me into a kiss, and I melt instantly, arms wrapping around his neck. His mouth devours mine, but I fight it, refusing to open my lips. He growls—a low, hungry sound—then smacks my ass hard, both hands gripping tight.