Sianni McWashington-Maddox
I sat at the table watching Kyrie eat while my mind kept replaying everything he had just told me. Jamal was out of jail, and instead of thinking logically, Kyrie’s ass was ready to risk it all just to prove a point.
What irritated me the most was that this whole situation could’ve gone differently if he’d just talked to the police from the beginning and told them what really happened.
But no. Kyrie always had to be hardheaded and take shit into his own hands like he was untouchable.
Not realizing that same shit could come back and bite him in the ass later.
Whether he wanted to hear it or not, if something happened to Jamal, Kyrie would be the first person those people looked at. Everybody knew they had issues.
But trying to explain that to Kyrie was like talking to a damn brick wall. This was exactly why his ass needed somebody pretending to be his wife in the first place. The man did not know how to act.
“Bae, you alright?” Kyrie asked, finally looking over at me.
“Yeah,” I replied quickly, forcing a nod before looking back down at my food. “I’m good.”
Truth was, I already knew there was no point in trying to argue with him about it at that moment. His mind was made up. Once Kyrie got in that mode, nobody was changing it either.
After we finished eating, I cleaned my plate off before heading upstairs to the bedroom. The second I shut the door behind me, I grabbed my phone and called Drayla.
She was really the only person I had to talk to now. ’Cause I didn’t have Alexia anymore. And if I was being honest, that shit still hurt.
The two of us had been locked in since school. We used to swear we’d always have each other’s backs no matter what happened. So, for things to end the way they did? That shit weighed on me more than I liked admitting.
I sat across the bed, waiting for Drayla to answer before her loud-ass mouth finally came through the phone.
“Hey, bitch, what’s up?” she asked cheerfully.
“Girl, I am stressed.” I sighed.
Her tone instantly changed. “What happened?”
“Kyrie just found out Jamal got out of jail. They said it was self-defense and there wasn’t enough evidence.”
“What the fuck?”
“Exactly.” I rubbed my forehead. “Now Kyrie is on a whole damn rampage, talking about destroying this man.”
“He does know he can’t just do that, right?”
“Yeah, but he’s talking about having his cousin handle it instead.” I let out a frustrated breath. “And all I keep thinking is how suspicious that shit gon’ look. Jamal literally just got out of jail. If something happens to him now, who do you think they're going to look at first?”
“Kyrie,” she answered immediately.
“Exactly.”
“Do you want me to get my husband to talk to him?”
“Nawl,” I quickly said. “I don’t need Kyrie knowing I went to somebody else about this. He is already acting crazy.”
“Okay, okay.” She paused for a second. “Well, what are you doing right now?”
“Nothing. We just got done eating.”
“Bet. Come out with me tonight.”
“To where?”
“A club or something. You need to get out of the house before all this stress starts eating at you.”
I can’t even lie; that actually sounded good as hell. It had been forever since I’d gone anywhere like that. Last time I went to a club, Alexia and I had snuck in with fake IDs, and when my mama found out, she beat our asses.
The memory almost made me laugh.
“Alright, bet,” I said finally. “But I gotta bring security with me. Kyrie got people watching me now.”
“That honestly doesn’t even surprise me.” Drayla laughed. “With all the attention y’all get? I’d probably do the same thing.”
“Girl, this lifestyle is stressful.”
“I know,” she replied. “But trust me, you’ll get used to it eventually.”
“I guess.” I sighed before standing up from the bed. “Alright, let me go get ready.”
“Bet. I’ll text you the details.”
We hung up a few seconds later.
After tossing the phone onto the bed, I headed into the closet to find something to wear before making my way toward the bathroom to shower.
Steam filled the bathroom while I stood under the water trying to clear my head.
Between Kyrie acting recklessly over Jamal, security suddenly following me everywhere, and this whole lifestyle feeling more chaotic by the day, my nerves had honestly been all over the place.
I squeezed some body wash into my hand before starting to wash up, but not even two minutes later, the shower curtain moved.
“Kyrie.” I sighed without looking back. “Can you not?”
“Nawl.” His deep voice sounded entirely too amused. “You left me downstairs by myself.”
I rolled my eyes while the water hit both of us. “You act like a child.”
“And you act like you don’t like me bothering you.”
I ignored him on purpose, but that only seemed to make him worse.
A few seconds passed before I suddenly felt his lips press against my shoulder. Then lower.
“Kyrie…” I warned again, already knowing he was about to start some shit.
“What?” he muttered against my skin. “I'm trying to make my wife feel better.”
His mouth moved across the curve where my neck met my shoulder, slow and deliberate.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
“That's not going—” I tried.
“Not what?” His voice dropped lower. “Not going to work?”
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Because his lips were already trailing down my spine, following the path of water between my shoulder blades, and my body was betraying every irritated thought I'd had two minutes ago.
“Kyrie, I need to get ready,” I tried, but even I could hear how weak that sounded.
“Where you going?” His hands slid from my waist to my thighs, firm and possessive.
“Out with Drayla,” I managed, my voice already unsteady.
“You taking security?”
“Y-yes,” I breathed as his palms smoothed up the backs of my thighs, spreading me slightly. The word came out broken, caught between a moan and an answer.
“Good.” He dropped to his knees behind me, his breath hot against my skin. “You got time.”
My pulse spiked immediately.
“What are you doing?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“Making sure you leave here in a better mood.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but then his palms smoothed up the backs of my thighs, spreading me slightly, and whatever I was about to say dissolved into nothing.
The water beat down on both of us, steam curling thick in the air, but all I could focus on was the heat of his breath against my skin.
“Kyrie—”
“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and controlled. “Let me take care of you.”
And then his mouth was on me.
Slow and Intentional. Like he'd been thinking about this exact moment all day.
My hand shot out, bracing against the tile wall, because my knees damn near buckled on contact.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my head dropping forward.
He didn't respond—just tightened his grip on my thighs and pulled me closer, his tongue moving in a rhythm that made my entire body tense.
The shower spray hit my back, but I barely felt it. All I could register was the pressure, the precision, the way he knew exactly where to focus without me having to say a single word.
My breathing shifted—shorter, sharper—and I felt him smile against me.
That cocky-ass smile.
“Stop,” I muttered, but it came out breathless and unconvincing.
He hummed low in his throat, the vibration shooting straight through me, and my fingers curled against the slick tile.
“Stop what?” he asked between movements, his voice muffled but smug as hell.
I didn't answer because I couldn't form a coherent sentence anymore.
My other hand reached back, fingers threading into his hair, gripping tighter than I meant to.
He groaned softly at that, and the sound alone made my thighs tremble.
“Kyrie…” His name left my lips like a warning and a plea at the same time.
He adjusted his angle slightly, his hands sliding higher on my hips to steady me, and suddenly everything intensified.
My breath hitched, and my spine arched.
The steam, the water, the heat—it all blurred together until the only thing that existed was the relentless, controlled way he worked me over.
“Look at you,” he murmured against me, his tone dark and satisfied. “All that attitude earlier…”
“Shut up,” I managed, but my voice shook.
He laughed quietly, the sound vibrating through me again, and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from making a sound I'd regret.
My legs started shaking for real then, and he felt it immediately.
His grip tightened, holding me in place, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
“Don't run,” he said low, almost a command.
I wasn't trying to.
But my body was already betraying me, trembling under the pressure building low in my stomach, spreading outward until I couldn't think straight.
“Kyrie—” My voice cracked slightly.
“I know,” he said simply, his tone steady, even though mine wasn't. “Let go.”
And that's exactly what happened.
The tension snapped all at once, crashing through me in waves that left me gasping. My hand pressed flat against the tile for balance while my other hand tightened in his hair.
He didn't stop. Didn't ease up.
Just kept going until my knees gave out completely, and he had to catch me, his hands firm on my waist as he stood slowly, pulling me back against his chest.
My breathing was still uneven, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
“You good?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing against my temple.
I nodded, even though I wasn't sure I could speak yet.
He turned me around carefully, his hands steadying me while the water continued to pour down over both of us.
When I finally looked up at him, his expression was smug as hell.
“Still irritated?” he asked, that cocky grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
I narrowed my eyes at him, even though my legs were still shaking. “You're annoying.”
“Yeah?” He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. “But you love me anyway.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at my lips.
“Unfortunately.”
He kissed me then, slow and deep, like he owned every second of it—and for a moment, I forgot I was supposed to be getting ready to leave.
When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed across my bottom lip.