Chris Brown
Trey Songz
_____________
Cashae
Keep my name out your fucking mouth. That's all I ask. I'm the type of girl who don't accept bullshit. Especially when it comes to MY life. That's my business, and mine alone. I'm not that type of girl.
"What you doing babe," Chris wrapped his arms around my waist trying to trick me into staying the night.
"You know I got to go home, my husband is waiting." I slipped on my clothes, while my hair was still wet.
"What you doing with a husband anyway? You only 21"
"Well. I'm leaving. You know what it is already."
I walked out of Chris condo, and to my car. I made sure to take a shower and put on makeup so I could seem maybe just a bit appealing when I got home to My husband. I know it's wrong, sneaking around like I can't just leave. That's what most of y'all would say. But it's hard in my case. I been in this relationship forever. I need something new. I wasn't looking to cheat, not at all. I'm not that bitch. I am a boss, and I don't care what nobody else thinks about me..
I've had one relationship my whole life, you can't tell me you wouldn't want more action in your life. By the time I got home, the street lights were coming on, and I had to walk in the house barefooted. Those damn heels was killing me.
"DADDY! Your whore is home!" My oldest stepdaughter, Alana screamed upstairs. She hasn't like me since she met me, and she brainwashing her younger sister and brother to do the same shit, I ain't having it. They not even my kids, and I give them the world don't turn around and treat me like dog shit.
We've broken up a few times in this relationship, so Trey had time to have a couple kids. He know where home at though.
"Hi baby," he said giving my a kiss flat on my lips. His lips felt so different than Chris' but the still felt good. I honestly love my husband, he makes me feel secure, and safe. But Chris, that man makes me happy. Unfortunately, I have a family.
"MOMMY," my two babies screamed and ran down the stairs one after the other to tackle me. I love these little ones, they're the ones who love me back. That older one, she can get out my house with that attitude. I just be wanting to punch her in her esophagus.
Before they could run into my arms, Alana grabbed them both by their shirts. "What I tell y'all about calling that bitch mommy? That ain't your fucking mother. What's your mothers name?"
"Allison," they both shrieked. I pushed Alana's hands off my babies.
"DON'T grab them like that. You don't buy them shit, and you damn well don't grab they shirts like you did. Don't hurt them they are 3 and 4 year olds. You're 16, don't act up in here."
"Bitch, don't act crazy." She said then left to go back upstairs with her stank attitude. Im too young to deal with all this shit. That's right, I'm a 21 year old with a husband and 3 kids. It's true he's young, but still he already acts old as hell. He never wants to have fun. Just busy and stuffy.
I don't have to work, and really Trey doesn't want me to work. He said he already rich what I need to work for? He could take care of me. Shit, you ain't have to ask me twice. I was young, and tired of these little jobs. Now, I wish I had something new and exciting to go to everyday. My two babies, Jake and Lina being me new surprises each day. I love them so much, and I could never dream of the day I leave my angels. But it's so hard. I'm tempted everyday. "Go wash up for dinner okay babies," I said sending my kids upstairs.
"How was your day baby," Trey comes back upstairs from the basement and hugs me from behind. He felt so Warm and comfortable, it was almost like he came fresh out the oven. "I'm good, what you been up to while I was gone?" I asked, pulling out of his grasp and resting in a chair. I could tell he wanted to be close and hug and kiss, but I just wasn't in the mood for all that. He came and picked me up tryna sit me in his lap. "Alright, babe. Stop." I complained.
He just continued to tell me about his day. I listened like I actually gave a fuck, laughed at his boring ass jokes... When in reality I just really missed Chris.
