Chapter 8
I wasn’t impressed with the way the restaurant looked on the outside, but the smell coming out of those doors every time they swung open smelled like food coming out of my mama’s kitchen.
Shit, I wasn’t even hungry before we pulled up here, but now I’m ready for a plate of whatever looks good to me on the menu.
I kept it simple and ordered oxtail mac and cheese because I'd had it before and knew I would fuck it up. As greedy as a nigga is, I’m still picky too. I've had too many bad experiences trying different shit at restaurants, so I stuck to what I knew wouldn't get sent back.
Once the order was placed, the food came out fast, steaming hot, and the smell had both of us ready to eat like we hadn’t had a meal in days. We dug into our food, not saying a word, both eating like we were in prison.
“Damn, shorty,” I said when I finally looked up from my Oxtail mac and cheese from the sound of her working those crab legs.
“You're cracking those joints like a pro.”
“I know.” She laughed.
“I love crab legs. Seafood is so good to me,” she slurped up the juices from one of the legs.
It's crazy with her eating like a savage that I was still able to admire how fucking Pretty Pernelle is. Even though she didn’t have those European model features like Cashmier, she still had a gorgeous face with dimples so deep you could probably swim in them.
She had pretty ass eyes and a pretty ass smile, though I’m sure she never had dental work because she had a small gap, but I thought the shit made her authentic.
I know she may be out of shape now, but I saw her pre-pregnancy body, and the baby had that thickness that made my mouth water.
She better not pass that shit down to no daughter of mine though.
Shit, I wanted my baby to be pretty, but she could be built like the letter P for all I care.
“You know, crab legs are my second favorite to oysters. I fuck some oysters up at least once a week, well, on payday when I can afford them.”
She smirked, but my mind immediately went somewhere else.
“The hell you mean you fuck oysters up once a week? Don't those things make you want to fuck?”
“Yeah, they are aphrodisiacs.”
“So, you fucking every time you eat them with my daughter in you?”
“No, I am not, Crew. Of course, you would think that.” She laughed, shaking her head.
“Just because I eat oysters doesn’t mean they make me horny. Now, they do make me a little wet, but shit, lately, since I've been pregnant, I stay wet all day, every day anyhow. I wake up wet; I go to sleep wet. I have to wipe myself all day, every day.”
I stared at her for a second, fork paused in midair.
“You saying that shit makes me want to pack this food up”
She giggled, taking a sip of her drink.
“Well, you can want to fuck all you want, but the doctor put me on pelvic rest.”
“What the fuck is that? You're not supposed to walk or something?”
“No, dummy.” She rolled her eyes playfully.
“It means that I can’t fuck because baby girl wants to come out early. They said the moment I have a really big orgasm, she will slip right out, and she needs to bake a little longer.”
“Oh yeah?” I leaned back, smirking.
“Then it’s best you stay away from this dick. You know how I’m coming, and baby Jane Doe will be coming quick.”
“Yeah, I know.” She laughed softly, then looked down at her stomach.
I don't know what it is, but her saying she's been like a waterpark below had me looking across this table just wishing that I could lick every part of her body.
Pernelle was definitely a nigga type, and I saw that at that tournament earlier this year.
My gaze across the table at her was interrupted when my phone chimed with a text message.
Hov: We need to link up tonight at 10:30 at the safe warehouse.
Who knows what this meeting is about, but I’m not going to miss it. Whether it’s still bad blood between us or not, business is business, and I hope we can salvage at least that part of our relationship. It was worth me showing up to see.