Chapter Eight #2
I thought about my pops again, about the conversations we'd had when I first told him I was getting into content creation.
He'd been skeptical at first, worried that I was going to make the same mistakes he did.
But when I broke down my business plan, showed him how I was going to maintain control and ownership, he'd nodded in approval.
"You're smarter than I was at your age," he'd said. "Just don't let the money make you stupid. Don't let these women make you stupid. And for wrap ya dick up nigga.”
I'd taken his advice to heart. I was making more money than most niggas my age, and I was doing it on my own terms. No boss, no schedule, no bullshit.
Just me, my content, and my subscribers.
And subscribers like this one, who were willing to pay top dollar for a private experience, made it all worth it.
Her tongue was doing some wild shit now, swirling around my tip, flicking against my slit. She was trying to make me lose control, and it was working. My breathing was getting heavier, my muscles tensing up. I was close, so fucking close.
"You want this nut?" I asked, my voice rough.
"Yes," she moaned, and I could hear the desperation in her voice. "Give it to me, Dose. I want to taste it."
That did it. Hearing her beg for my cum, knowing she was on the other side of that wall just as turned on as I was, sent me over the edge.
My dick pulsed in her mouth, and I felt the first spurt of cum shoot out.
She didn't pull back, didn't hesitate. She took it all, swallowing and sucking and milking me for everything I had.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I groaned, my hand slamming against the wall as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me. She kept sucking, kept swallowing, not wasting a single drop. When I finally stopped cumming, she gave my dick one last long lick, cleaning me off before pulling back.
I stood there for a moment, catching my breath, my dick still twitching from the intensity of the orgasm. That was exactly what I needed. No drama, no complications, just a good nut and a fat check.
"You good?" she asked through the speaker, and I could hear the satisfaction in her voice.
Long after, I dipped out after cleaning up after myself.
We'd never actually met face-to-face outside of our video calls, and I needed to make sure she wasn't catfishing me.
Her voice matched the lips I'd seen on screen, so whenever I was facing the wall, I had peace of mind knowing there wasn't somebody else in the room pretending to be her.
The last thing I wanted was another woman—or some nigga—pulling a fast-one on me.
"Yeah, I'm good," I said, tucking my dick back in my pants. "You got skills, for real."
She laughed. "Same time next month?"
“We’ll see.”
I left the room, walking through the basement and back upstairs. She'd left an envelope on the kitchen counter with the rest of my payment—she'd sent half upfront, and the other half was in cash. I counted it quickly, making sure it was all there, then pocketed it and headed out.
As I drove back to my crib, I thought about how different my life was from most niggas my age. I wasn't clocking in to no nine-to-five, wasn't answering to no manager, wasn't stressing about bills. I was living life on my own terms, making my own rules, and getting paid to do it.
And I wasn't about to let nobody fuck that up.
Not a porn company trying to lock me into a contract. Not a woman trying to trap me with feelings. Not even my own ego. I'd seen too many people in this industry crash and burn because they got too comfortable, too careless, too caught up in the lifestyle.
I was going to keep doing this shit my way, on my terms, for as long as it made sense. And when it stopped making sense, I'd pivot to something else. That's what smart niggas do. We adapt, we evolve, we stay ten steps ahead.
My phone buzzed with a notification from After Dark. Another subscriber had just sent me a message, asking about rates for a custom video. I smirked, already calculating how much I was going to charge.
This was my life now, and I wouldn't trade it for shit.
Checking the time, I wanted to make sure I wasn't running behind for my date with Sia.
Nya was looking out for a nigga. Of course, everything came with a fee, because I was okay with paying.
According to her, Sia hadn't responded, but something told me she wouldn't ditch me, but I wouldn't bet on it.
The risk worth taking was high. I'd went all out for her, just to show her that she was worth all this shit and I wasn't fucking around.
I went home, showered, smoked, brushed my teeth and got dressed.
It wasn't shit getting in the way of tonight and pissing on my parade, because I had everything planned out.
I was blushing the entire ride to the restaurant, and I could picture her pretty-ass face every time I looked ahead.
The restaurant was on a rooftop and it was forty minutes away from my house but worth the drive.
The driver would arrive with Sia the same time I arrived, so I could be the first person she sees, opening the door for her.
Getting off at my exit, I hit the brakes at a stoplight and my phone rang.
I answered the call on my radio. "Dose."
"D, she ain't coming, man," my driver spoke, making me see red and causing my entire plan to crumble.
"What you mean she ain't coming!" I spat, already busting a U-turn.
"She ain't coming. I knocked on her door, and she wasn't even dressed. She shut it back in my face. I told her you sent me."
"That's what you did. You ain't say no slick shit at the mouth?"
"No sir."
"Aight, don't worry about it. I'm about to pull up."
Sia was playing the wrong kind of games with me. In the span of seventy-two hours, she'd blocked me on everything, cutting off every way I had to reach her. Making a fake-profile on After Dark had been my idea, but I never thought it'd come to this.
By some stroke of luck, she happened to go live, giving me the perfect opportunity to get a message in front of her. I couldn't think of another way to get through to her. She was forcing my hand, pushing me to do shit I swore I'd never do.
SIA’S POV
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I tossed my phone across the other side of the bed like I had beef with the damn thing. One of the promises I'd made to myself for the new year was to keep my big-girl bills—my mortgage and credit card payments—on autopay so I wouldn't have to think about them.
I was laid up browsing online, pricing trips out of the country and mentally spending money I probably shouldn't have been touching, when the fantasy came to a screeching halt. An email notification slid across the top of my screen, confirming that one of those payments had just gone through.
Just like that, my vacation daydream got pushed to the back burner.
When it came to my finances, I was solid—thank God for my financial advisor. Without them, I'd probably have terrible money management habits. One thing I promised myself was that I'd never touch my savings unless it was an absolute emergency.
I also had a rule: my checking account never dipped below fifty grand.
Over the years, I'd developed a system that worked for me.
I budgeted, planned ahead, and made sure I never spent more than what I had.
I liked nice things, but I wasn't reckless.
Every dollar had a purpose, and because of that, I never had to stress about money the way most people did.
The nice things I had were spent in yearly or monthly increments and never all at once.
Relaxing under the covers, a sudden knock at my door startled me.
I reached for my phone at the end of the bed, went to my camera system and saw it was a guy, fully suited, with a black Tahoe parked in my driveway.
Then it hit me, like a freight train. The date with Dose didn't look promising at all.
Ahead of him, I canceled the impromptu appointments.
Luckily they were women I went to regularly and it wasn't much of a hassle.
The only person who gave me the third degree was Nya.
Again once more, the guy knocked, making me grow furious, so I swung the covers back and trotted inside my living room and opened the door to be met face-to-face with the guy who looked a bit surprised by my anger.
"Um, I'm here to pick you up. Dose sent me," he spoke nervously.
Unwilling to conceal my vulgar frown, I poked my head out the door, sweeping my gaze from side to side before locking onto him, my eyes narrowing into sharp slits.
"I ain't going nowhere with that fool. Tell him I said that. Gas way too damn high for you to be wasting your damn time." Saying that, I slammed the door in his face and trotted back inside my bedroom.
It wasn't a chance in hell I'd go out with him or do content with him.
I didn't have to keep explaining that to him or Nya.
He was acting like a fucking kid who didn't understand the meaning of no or who wouldn't sense when women simply weren't interested in him.
Poor child was probably somewhere driving himself crazy.
I wasn't about to make time out of my day for a fuck-boy with fuck-boy tendencies.
It was still early in the day, so I decided to take a nap.
Back To Dose
I pulled up to Sia's spot, taking in the neighborhood as I rolled through.
The area was nice as hell—quiet too, safe for the rhythmic hiss of sprinklers watering freshly cut lawns.
She had herself tucked away in a cozy little pocket of Cordova, the kind of neighborhood where people actually knew their neighbors and took pride in their homes.
It wasn't too far from where I stayed out East, but I didn't spend enough time out this way to get familiar with the surroundings. To me, it was just another set of streets on the GPS. Still, I couldn't deny it was a decent area. Sia had carved out a nice little life for herself out here.