Noles #2
She tried to dodge me, playful, but I caught her easy.
Pulled her back against me, arms firm around her waist, grounding her like I knew she needed it.
I Guided her backward until the bed hit her knees and she climbed up without another word.
I pressed her down, rough and sure. Mine through and through.
She made a sound into the mattress that went straight through me makin my ears perk up.
I pushed her head into the mattress, commanding, makin her arch her back instinctively.
"I said no," she moaned softly into the mattress, her voice betrayin her.
"Shut up," I said huskily, my breath heavy as I pulled the t-shirt she had on up until I reached the lining of her thong.
I pulled it quick , the fabric rippin, and tossed what was left behind me without lookin.
My tongue ran across my lips as I spread my hands on both sides of her hips, takin a second to admire her beautiful ass, the way her body responded before I even touched her again.
I spread her cheeks apart, watching her pussy slob out the lips at me, already ready, already open.
"We gon' be late to wherever we gotta be," I mumbled, strokin my dick behind her, my voice low, knowin damn well neither one of us cared.
I entered her roughly from behind, the force of it pullin a moan straight out of her as her hands flew to the duvet, fingers grippin the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.
I continued strokin in and out of her, the sound of skin meetin skin fillin the room, my hands slidin over her ass lovin the way she felt in my hands.
"Mmhmm gimme that pussy, baeebbyy," I groaned, my voice thick, desperate.
She started throwin her ass back on me, meetin every stroke, takin it like she missed me just as bad as I missed her.
I threw my head back, chest tightenin as I took in how good she felt, how right this was.
My head was fucked up right now with too much in it, but none of that mattered in this moment.
I ran my hands through my braids, trying to keep myself from moaning like a bitch, but the sound still slipped out anyway.
Ayida threw her head back, moanin loud, her voice breakin the quiet of the room.
I reacted without thinkin, grabbin the back of her neck and speedin up my pace, slammin into her from behind with no mercy.
Her breath caught in her throat, each sound she made comin out broken, like she couldn't quite catch air.
I lifted my free hand and slapped her ass three or four times, the sound sharp, echoin, and her body started shakin under me.
I held her there as her orgasm took over, feeling it ripple through her, pull me in deeper, draining the life straight out of my body. When I finally let her go, my chest was heavin, my body heavy, like everything in me had been poured into that moment with her.
_____
I opened the door to the building and was immediately hit with the smell of cologne, leather, and money.
The walls were lined with suits and polished shoes like trophies.
Italian leather. Custom cuts. Shit niggas wore when they wanted to feel untouchable even when they wasn't sure they felt that way inside.
Mirrors everywhere. Tall ones. Wide ones.
Ones that forced you to look at yourself whether you wanted to or not.
I saw my reflection as soon as I stepped in.
Jaw tight. Eyes darker than they used to be.
Nigga who had died once and came back wrong.
I could hear my brothers in the back, voices loud, overlappin, cuttin through the low hum of the tailor's radio. Laughin. Arguin. Talkin over each other like always. That familiar noise should've grounded me. It didn't.
I was an hour late meeting them here and for good reason too.
Jules caught sight of me first. "Here come that mistake yo mama and daddy made all them years ago," he said, eyein me through the mirror while adjustin the shoulders of his suit jacket.
I smiled slow, lazy, lettin it stretch across my face like I wasn't still carryin heat in my chest. "You stay fuckin' with me.
You must not be gettin' no ass at home ? "
Pierre barked out a laugh, loud and reckless, the sound bouncin off the high ceilings. "Yo ass childish," he said, shakin his head. "You late, Noles," Juste said, fingers still fightin with the tie around his neck. His tone was clipped, not mad, but irritated enough to be felt.
I didn't answer him, Didn't even look his way.
My attention had already shifted. Saint was walking toward me with a suit draped over his arm and a pair of shoes in his hand like he was handin me a uniform.
Like this was some passin of the torch moment he didn't bother announcin. I took them from him without a word.
I stepped into the dressin room and shut the door.
The second it clicked closed, I exhaled.
Lettin pressure off my chest. The mirror in front of me caught everything I didn't want to see.
the way my shoulders stayed raised like I was expecting a hit, the way my hands flexed when I thought about too much, the way my chest felt tight even standin still.
I changed quick. When I stepped back out, I felt the attention before I saw it.
Saint was staring at me. Not a casual glance or a passin look.
A stare that wasn't about the suit but was about me.
I ignored him at first, focusin on straightenin my tie.
Adjustin the cuffs. Checkin the fit in the mirror like that was the only thing in the room.
But his eyes stayed on me. Like he was weighin something.
So I stopped. Let my hands drop and Crossed my arms staring back.
The room shifted. Jules stopped talkin mid-sentence.
Pierre went quiet. The tailor pretended not to exist.
Juste watched us both without sayin shit, probably waitin to see which one of us was gon' snap first. I could feel the tension stretchin thin, tight as wire.
Five minutes passed, but it Felt like longer.
"What the fuck y'all niggas got goin' on?
" Juste finally asked, breakin the silence.
Saint didn't look away from me. "I'm just checkin' the disrespectful young nigga out," he said flat. I raised my eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," he replied, voice steady, eyes locked.
Pierre stepped in before it could turn into something else.
"What up? What's the beef between y'all, man?
" Saint waved it off like it was nothing.
"Ain't shit to it. This nigga just got shot and act like the world at his ass.
Paranoid as fuck. Lookin' at me like I sent them people at cha.
" He said it clean, And he looked me square in my face when he did.
I turned slightly, tightenin my tie again, watchin him through the mirror.
My reflection stared back just as hard. "Did you?
" The question came out calm. Saint chuckled low, deep, and confident.
"If I sent somebody at ya ass, you wouldn't be here lookin' at me.
" Something twisted in my chest. "Noles, come on wit' that shit," Juste said, rubbin the bridge of his nose like we was all givin him a headache.
"You know Pops ain't have shit to do wit' that.
What I tell you 'bout all that hot, hostile-ass shit? Chill out."
"For real," Jules added. "Yo young ass ain't gon' keep tryna beef with Pops. I'll hit you in ya shit." Pierre sneered at him immediately. "You shut your pussy-ass up, instigator." That pulled a short laugh out of me, but my eyes stayed on Saint. Long enough for him to know, I wasn't convinced.
I shifted the conversation before it could spiral. "Since we gotta get sugar-sharp for this bullshit-ass event Mama makin' us go to," I said, "I hope you not expectin' us to pull out suits and ties for the casino openin'. I can't do it, bruh." Juste didn't even look up from his phone. "Nah."
Saint cleared his throat. "On a serious note," he said.
I felt it coming before it landed. "I love y'all.
All y'all." His eyes dragged to me last. I didn't blink.
"Y'all are my legacy," he continued, "and I'm damn proud to see y'all keepin' the name clean and keepin' shit afloat.
" He nodded once. The room went quiet. Pierre squinted.
"That shit sound soft as hell. You ain't finna tell us you got cancer or some shit, is you?
" Jules laughed under his breath. "Shit do Sound like a farewell tour. "
Saint chuckled but it didn't touch his eyes.
"Hella nah. I just see so much of me in all y'all," he said.
"Even in them youngins y'all keep havin'.
I just love y'all, is all." I shifted in the suit, the fabric suddenly feeling heavier than it should've.
Like it was pressin into my skin instead of fittin me.
Pops didn't talk like this. He showed love through pressure.
Through silence. Through makin you earn air.
This felt like a confession without context.
Saint's phone rang, the vibration loud in the quiet room, and he pulled it from his pocket like nothing heavy had just been dropped between us.
He put it on speaker without thinkin, thumb tapping the screen.
"Can you stop at the market and grab some apples for the grands?
" Mama's voice came through the phone, sharp but warm at the same time.
In the background, I could hear feet thumpin, kids yellin, somethin crashing like a toy got thrown too hard.
Pops furrowed his brows. "I thought they went home this mornin'? "