Chapter 40
B&E.
That's what I used to do before I entered the drug game. Got good at it too. Real fucking good. I could be and out of someone's house in less than five minutes. Learned my way around a lock from my big homie until he took a bullet to his face.
I got reckless after he died. Stopped giving a fuck about a lot of shit. I was out here wilding. That became my downfall.
I caught a Breaking & Entering charge at eighteen. Fresh out of high school. Still wet behind the ears. They hit me with a big boy sentence too—ten years. I was scared as fuck. But I was a fighter. Always had been. I went in prepared to defend myself by any means necessary.
High Desert State Prison.
Yeah…I already knew I was fucked.
My mama told me point blank that if I got my “black ass” locked up not to call her. And she stood on that shit too. Didn’t matter that the money I made selling stolen goods financed her lifestyle for years.
She turned her back on me.
So did my sisters.
Everybody did.
That type of abandonment does something to a young man. I went into prison angry at everybody. My family. Myself. The system. My dead homie for leaving me out here alone.
I fought constantly those first two years. Stayed getting thrown in the hole and catching extra time. I didn't care about shit.
Then eventually…I got tired.
The next couple years I settled down. Read a lot. Worked out. Got big as shit. The respect came early because niggas learned quick not to play with me.
Eventually I became what they considered a 'model inmate'. Quiet. Calm. Disciplined.
The nigga who could stop fights instead of starting them. That shit was intentional though. Behind the scenes I had CO’s in my pocket helping me make moves. I was slanging everything in that bitch. Phones. Drugs. Snacks. Whatever could make me a profit I sold.
Hell—even inmates. Boy pussy was still pussy when a muhfucka been under lock and key too long. I offered protection, they gave up some ass. Fair exchange.
I sold everything and did it well. That’s how I met Syrus’s wild ass.
Nigga came in on an assault charge for stomping somebody’s head in.
He entered that bitch swinging too. Angry at the world.
I got him under control though. Showed him how to move and survive between those walls.
And how to stay out the way long enough to make it back to the streets wreaking havoc again.
And for a minute shit was smooth. The money was flowing. CO’s paid and my respect solidified.
Then…Eva walked in.
She was the prettiest thing I had ever seen in my life. Thick. A sun-kissed, brown-skin cougar in her mid-thirties wearing them correctional officer pants like they were painted on. Every nigga in that prison went into heat behind her.
And Eva knew exactly what the fuck she was doing too. I could tell she got a kick out of being lusted after. Her nose was in the air a little bit. She walked around like she was untouchable.
I wanted to touch her anyway.
The first day she walked through that pod, I knew she wanted me. And I wanted her too.
Bad. I’d lay in my bunk at night thinking about her. Fantasizing about all the filthy shit I wanted to do to her once I finally got my chance.
It started small. Her doing rounds. Smiling at me longer than she should. Little conversations. Extra check-ins. Then eventually we started flirting on the low. Months passed like that. Slow burn. Tension building every shift.
Then one night I finally got my opportunity. I had popped my shoulder out of place and needed medical attention. Eva was walking me back to my pod afterwards. Instead of me walking ahead like protocol required, we were side-by-side.
That ass looked too fat in them pants. So smoothly, I brushed my hand across the side. I saw the reaction at once. Her body tensed slightly but she didn’t check me. She didn’t pull away either. So…I did it again. Slower this time. Eva smiled to herself and yeah…that’s when I knew I was in there.
I leaned in close enough for only her to hear me. “I wanna eat the hair off your pussy, Eva.”
She damn near stumbled over her own feet before catching herself. Her eyes flicked toward me quickly. “You shouldn’t talk like that, inmate,” she murmured trying to sound stern. “You gon’ get yourself in trouble.”
I smirked slowly. “I’m in prison, mama. It look like I give a fuck about trouble?”
Her cheeks flushed. I looked her up and down slowly before lowering my voice again. “I could take care of you, you know that?”
Eva swallowed.
“I mean really take care of you.” I stepped a little closer. “Pretty woman like you shouldn’t be working in a place like this. You deserve to be somewhere laid up relaxing while a nigga spend money on you.”
That finally broke her composure. She smiled hard then looked away trying to hide it.
But I already had her. I had planned this shit carefully too. “There’s a storage closet down that hall,” I nodded toward the side exit. “Janitors don’t use it because the lock always sticking.”
Her head turned toward me sharply.
“Give me ten minutes when you ready,” I murmured. “Lemme show you how a real nigga treats you.” I held her eyes. “I bet I make you cum in eight.”
Her breath trembled.
She was mine.
I could feel it.
I could almost smell her pussy leaking for me.
She didn't respond, but the seed had been planted. It just needed a little water.
But then, she disappeared for two weeks. That shit irritated me more than I wanted to admit. Had me thinking maybe I pushed too hard too fast. Then one day she came back. But not the same Eva. No little flirty smiles or attitude. She looked stressed and tired. Damn near defeated.
“I'm sorry I been gone,” she said quietly, eyes fixed ahead. “My landlord sold my townhome, and I've been trying to find somewhere to stay.” She swallowed hard. “Had to leave most my furniture. My credit fucked up so everybody keeps denying me.”
She was trying hard to hold it together, but I could see that vulnerability leaking out.
I looked around the pod before lowering my voice. “Don’t let these niggas see you shaken, mama.”
Her eyes flicked toward me briefly.
“I told you already,” I continued smoothly. “You need a man that can take care of you.” I leaned a little closer. “I can get you squared away.”
Suspicion mixed with desperation crossed her face.
“I can't say too much about what I do,” I murmured. “But ask around about me.”
Eva chewed her bottom lip thinking. Then finally she asked, “What I gotta do?”
I smirked slowly, letting my eyes drag over her body. “Lemme eat that pussy like I told you.”
“Bishop,” she breathed, eyes widening.
I leaned back casually. “I don't know, C.O…my stomach kinda fucked up.” I rubbed my stomach lazily. “Think I need to see medical right quick.” I held her eyes, waiting for her to make the next move.
Eva stared at me another second before finally pulling out the cuffs. “Hands behind your back.”
As soon as I got Eva in that storage closet, I grabbed her by her throat and snatched her towards me. "Drop them big ass pants," I growled.
And she did. Fumbling with the buckle and all.
I turned her around, bent her over and dropped to my knees.
I hadn't smelled or tasted a woman in so long I was close to nutting in my pants when I got behind her. Now what Eva didn’t know, was that before I got locked up, I had only fucked three girls and only ate pussy one time.
I hadn’t even gotten a chance to be on my freak shit because the streets had a hold on me.
But she didn't need to know that.
I had watched enough porn and fantasized enough about her to be able to produce results. I said eight minutes and I was determined.
I sucked and licked Eva from the top to the bottom. I mean I was face deep in her. My dick jerked as I nutted from being without for so long. Eva rained down on my tongue quick. And when she stood up, I grabbed her by her throat and kissed her deep, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
That was the beginning of our story…
And I was a man of my word too. Money hit Eva’s account every week. She was able to pay three months upfront on an apartment. Fuck credit. Eventually, I convinced her to start bringing product in for me too. If the money was gon’ keep flowing, everybody had to play their part.
Then Eva got pregnant. That changed everything. Once she told me it was twins, I shut all that shit down immediately. Fuck that. I wasn’t about to have my kids’ mother walking around a prison full of criminals swollen with my babies.
I hated missing their birth though. That shit broke me in ways I don’t talk about. Still—I made sure Eva was straight. Full accounts. Better apartment. Hired help for her. I told her once I got out, I was gon’ buy her the house of her dreams and make her Mrs. Avery officially.
And I meant it too. Eva had held me down when everybody else turned their back on me.
She was my first real love. I didn't have a baseline before her. Eva was it.
I came home at twenty-nine with four-year-old twins that barely knew me. I had missed every milestone possible. First words. First steps. All that shit. My twenties had been swallowed up behind prison walls.
Some people would call that 'institutionalized'.
I don’t know if I’d put that label on myself, but adjusting to normal life was definitely hard as hell. But I adjusted. Found my footing. Eva wanted marriage and stability. I wanted money, power, and security.
So I got to work.
The courthouse wedding came first. Then the house. Then the lifestyle. By the time Syrus got out, I already had motion. With both of us together, we became a problem real quick.
And I spoiled Eva and my kids. Partly because I loved them. Partly because guilt makes a man overcompensate. And somewhere along the way, a nigga developed a different definition on what love and relationships looked like.
Then Gianna happened.
Fucking Gianna.
I wasn't expecting it to hit like it did.
What I felt for her was different from anything I've ever experienced with Eva. I loved my wife. But Gianna…I obsessed over her. She challenged me. Checked my ego. Fucked me like she understood parts of me I didn't even understand myself. That woman got under my skin differently.
I wasn’t crazy obsessed though.
Crazy niggas kidnap women.
Tie them up.
Hurt them.
I would never do no shit like that. I wanted to protect Gianna. Spoil her. Worship her.
Give her everything she ever wanted. I just needed her to let me.
Eva would always have me.
But Gianna felt like my future.
I stepped into the apartment I kept on the side.
My escape spot. Somewhere quiet where I could think.
Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed the expensive bottle of bourbon Gianna bought me.
I had been savoring that shit slowly. A woman doesn't buy a man something like that on the first link unless he means something to her.
Pouring a shot, I took a slow sip and dropped down into the chair where the bag lay. Unzipping it, I reached inside without even looking, grabbing the first piece of fabric my fingers touched.
A slow smile spread across my face when I pulled out some black lacy shit.
Another pair followed right behind it—lavender thongs.
Soft colors always looked good against her skin.
Tucked in the side pocket was the pair I found lying on top of her dirty clothes hamper –white satin boy shorts with lace trimming at the bottom.
My chest tightened a little looking at them as I envisioned her in them. Before I could stop myself…I lifted them to my nose and inhaled deeply.
Fuck.
My dick hardened instantly as flashes of Gianna hit me all at once. Her laugh. Her attitude. Her smell. That pretty ass face looking down at me while she rode me slow.
Fucking Gianna.