EARLY MAY, 2015
• M A L I K •
"You took yo meds today, baby?" Tre asked me as he entered the living room.
I was trying my hand at cooking. A nigga just been starting simple with breakfast. Shamia was over here the other day trying to teach me, but I kicked her out because she cusses at me too much.
"Yes, I took 'em," I felt arms wrap around me from behind. He kissed me on my cheek, and I turned my head, so our lips could meet, for a sweet, passionate kiss. "I love you," I told him, making him flash me that sexy ass smile where his two front teeth make him smile like a bunny.
"I love you too, baby," he kissed my lips again. I refocused my attention on the eggs in the pan. "So you finally ready ta be my housewife?"
I smacked my lips, pushing the nigga away from me. "What, Malik?" He chuckled. "Stay at home Daddy looks good on you tho," he smacked my ass, making me roll my eyes. "Make me jus' wanna bend yo ass over right now," he whispered in my ear, then nibbled it a little.
I damn near let out a moan when I felt his dick rub against my ass. I then feel him pull it out, pulling my underwear down, just rubbing it between my cheeks. "Tre, you gon' make me burn the food," I breathed as he kissed on my neck.
"You gon' stay home fa daddy, Malik?"
"Mmmhmm," I hummed, lying, but I'll agree to anything that nigga says right now.
"You are?"
"Yeah," I started moving my hips back, feeling his dick slide against my hole, balls, and dick.
He kissed my neck again, "You lyin'?"
"N-No,"
He smacked my ass, "Yes you are," he grabbed the left side of my hips with his right hand, rolling his hips, creating friction.
"You teasin'," I breathed, feeling his dick slide across my hole. "Trevon,"
"Hmmm," he kissed my neck. His hips were flush against my ass. He reached around, grabbing both of our dicks; his hand reaching up my shirt, playing with my nipples.
They were so sensitive now.
"Shit, Tre," my breathing stuttered from the pleasure I was feeling. "Oh, fuck—" my sentence got cut off. I looked down at the eggs, seeing they were black and they smelled horrible.
"Fuck is et smell—"
"Nigga, es is yo fault! Back up off me," I pushed Tre back with my hips. He just started laughing.
"Sorry, baby," he slapped my ass. "Let's jus' getta chef. We can afford it,"
I rolled my eyes, pulled up my pants, and then I started cleaning out the burnt eggs. "You buyin' me sum breakfas',"
"I gotchu, Malik," he tried to hug me from behind again, but I just rolled my eyes.
Suddenly the sound of the doorbell filled my ears, "Imma get it," Tre spoke, exiting the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he returned with a package and our mail.
As I was cleaning the kitchen, saying 'fuck it' to cooking, Tre was sifting through the mail, separating them by name. "Ooo, baby, look," he smiled, showing me a letter from the University of Kentucky.
I applied to the summer program. I want to start getting my life together. I never really thought I had any talents or interests until I met Tre. I've always had a good voice, and I love music, so I thought I would give learning it a shot.
