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°Tyrone's POV° 8:25A.M.
🎶Top choppa mek eh money fast dawg, top coote! Rich inna mi prime, yuh nuh si di black coupe? Gyal a gimmi brain like mi nuh gah school... Yeh mi clean everyday, watch eh Clarks boot! Anuh lie a juss eh truth, wah di vibes, wah di move? Bout dem a chop, my yute weh di proof? Nah mek money den bredda wah do you? When mi been a knock yuh gyal, dawg anuh nut'n new, dat a true...🎶
The shrill sound of Marksman 'Top Coote' pulls my attention away from Candi-- whose chin is resting on my lap, her small body lodged between my opened legs--and towards my phone that's vibrating heavily on the night stand.
I groan, then hiss my teeth. A who the fuck that a call man dem time ya, man!
"Let it ring, babe," Candi tells me, her voice muffled by my dick that's in her mouth.
That mi out fi do, yes.
Peeling my attention away from it, I refocus same on the woman, giving me brain, reaching out and pulling her head back by her braids.
The phone stops ringing, and the room goes eerily silent.
Releasing the breath I didn't even realize I was holding, I relax, tilting my hips, forcing my hood deeper down her throat.
But the tranquility is short-lived as the phone goes off again.
CHO, fuck!
"Yo, wul on deh..."
Twisting my body to the left, and reaching over, I pick up the device, my heart skipping a beat when I look at the caller ID.
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