6. Global “Dice” Jamerson
Global “Dice” Jamerson
My head was tilted on a pillow against the plush mattress, while I flipped my hands in front of my face, wondering what color I was going to paint my nails when I went to get my fill-in.
I definitely needed to go to the nearest Ulta because Mac released their summer lipstick collection, and the shade Crazy For Me was in it.
It was a beautiful shade of red, and I just had to have it.
“Do that feel good, babe?”
I damn near forgot he was there.
“Yessss. Oh, oh, uuuu.”
I hope that was good enough and didn’t come across as too phony, but I was trying. I looked down between my legs at the slick-wave brother putting in overtime. His waves were laid so damn pretty they almost distracted me from the fact this man thought he was putting up Wilt Chamberlain numbers.
“Ouu... ouu... right there,” I moaned, giving him my best performance.
Baby, let me tell you, if the streets ever got slow, Hollywood was definitely my next stop.
The things I really wanted to say would've had this nigga scheduling a therapy appointment before breakfast. This here was flat-out pathetic. I had better head in college.
“Squirt for me, babe,” he groaned, doing some sort of flicking that was so uncoordinated it had me rolling my eyes.
Squirt?
Nigga, I'm a creamer. Big difference.
“It... it's about to come,” I lied, adding a little shake to my voice for dramatic effect. I hated when a man didn’t take the time to learn a woman’s body. Just using and saying the same shit in every hole they called wet.
Lord, forgive me.
I silently debated whether I should just pee and let this fool think he'd unlocked some hidden level of my womanhood. Hell, he probably would've called his homeboys before I made it to the parking lot.
This poor thing.
The only thing Greg was unlocking was access to my Academy Award-winning speech.
See, the handsome negro between my thighs was Greg. Ugly-ass name for a fine-ass man.
Greg worked for City Armor, and unbeknownst to him, he was a piece of a plan he'd never collect a dime from.
While Coca and Revv were tucked away in the mountains, away from all the chaos, I'd spent the last two months entertaining ol' Greggy here.
Every FaceTime, every fake laugh, every “Good morning” text had one purpose… That armored truck route.
A route he guarded like he had the president in the back.
I mean, I guess he did, only they were all dead, but unfortunately for him, fat mama had patience and power.
However, I was tired of coming out here to fake this whole I'm trying to get to know you better bullshit. I didn’t mind a few wild nights, but this here…
was too much. Two months of waiting for this? … I wanted a refund.
Now, don't get it twisted. Greg had only made it to second base because I allowed it. Kissing him? Absolutely the fuck not. A kiss meant you liked somebody... or at least tolerated 'em. Greg couldn't even get that.
“Damn, babe,” he huffed proudly.
“Mmm-hmm,” I hummed, giving him another fake little shiver.
If this man don’t hurry to complete this race with his awkward tongue acrobatics, I was gonna Donkey Kong his ass in the head. Maybe it would activate some sort of rogue waves.
This was truly a waste. Good Lord...Just clock out, Greg.
I did one more shimmy, hoping it would work. I was going to need an ice pack for the raw licking in just a minute. I felt like calling the girls and telling them we needed another heist because this plan wasn’t going to work.
“Ouu babe, ouuuuuu,” I moaned and groaned at the same damn time. That did the trick, and Greg got his tall ass off his knees. I don’t know who taught this man, but this wasn’t it.
“Wheww, girl, you wet me up,” he said while wiping his drenched mustache.
“She’s a soaker, boo,” I said with a wink. That was true. I was gonna get wet off his appearance alone, but most of that fluid was Greg and his damn saliva.
“I love that clit piercing. Did it hurt?”
“Nah. I like a little pain.”
“Damn. When you gonna let big daddy get in that thing?” I just stared at Greg’s handsome face and looked down at his little pitchfork that was doing something…I guess… in those boxers.
“Looks like you got yours,” I said, nodding toward the big wet spot spreading across the front of his boxers.
I swear on my mama, if I wasn't turned off before, I was damn sure flatlined now.
This lame really nutted on himself.
Lord, wait till I get back to the Airbnb. Them hoes was gon' hear about this all damn day. Hell, I couldn't wait to tell Coca. That fool would've laughed so hard he would've woke Revv up from his nap.
“Ebony, that's 'cause I got so excited. Look what you got me out here lookin' like.”
Greg let out this little nervous laugh like I was supposed to find that shit cute.
Whenever we worked a job and had to use a John, our real names stayed exactly where they belonged—with us.
So to Greg, I was just Ebony, a flight attendant he met at a bar a while back.
All of that was pre-planned after lurking and watching in different cities.
Greg came in wearing his uniform, and I purposely bumped into him.
Once we talked and exchanged numbers, it was a wrap.
A bank was on our minds, but ol’ Greggy got my wheels turning to take down a truck.
From there, I played my role, pretending to leave for flights whenever I needed an excuse to disappear while the Gang of Roses used an abandoned field to train and prepare for the job.
“If you say so.”
I eased my hefty ass off the bed and headed toward the bathroom to clean myself up. Before I could even reach the sink, Greg followed behind me like a lost damn puppy.
“All this ass,” he mumbled, giving my backside a soft little tap.
What the hell was that?
Now, don't get me wrong, I liked a man who knew how to appreciate what the Lord blessed me with, but that little tap?
Baby...That wasn't gonna get you anywhere with all these curves.
A man was supposed to come with a little pressure, a little confidence. Hell, make me think twice before I start calling the shots. Greg was handsome as all outdoors, but every time he opened his mouth, another layer of fine peeled clean the fuck off.
Ugh.
Just thinking about that made Ritz pop into my head. He was so soft, rough, demanding, and powerful in the bedroom. I really can’t explain the force behind his cocky ass.
Soon as this job was over, I was finally gon’ shake his world up. Pop Pop and Coca were over babysitting my hidden gem, and I couldn’t keep asking them to put their lives on pause because I was scared to deal with mine.
Then again...
If I thought telling Ritz was stressful...I still had to tell Gang of Roses.
Yeah...my girls ain’t know a damn thing.
“I’m glad you finally let me get a taste,” Greg said with a grin stretched across his face, pulling me from the storm I knew was coming.
“Mmm-hmm.”
That’s all he deserved.
Greg was so damn oblivious to my mood, it was almost impressive. The fake smiles, the fake moans, the fake interest... I needed to wrap this up before my facial expressions started telling the truth.
“You work tomorrow?” I asked, drying my hands like I wasn’t fishing.
“Yeah. Why? You already want more of Daddy Twister Tongue?”
Jesus, please be a fence...
I had to shut my eyes before they rolled so hard they’d get stuck in the back of my damn head.
“Nah,” I laughed. “I was wondering if there’s a decent bank around here. I’m over this online banking mess. Seems like every other week somebody trying to steal my little coins.”
“You thinking about finally settling here?”
“Who knows. I do need something for when I’m here, though. You know a place?”
Greg nodded, like he finally had something useful to contribute.
“I bank with City Union. Matter of fact, that's my first stop in the morning.
Somebody done made some activity on my account, and I know damn well it wasn't me.
Since I'll already be there with the truck, I'ma go on and get that handled.
I'll let the bank manager, Joey Tillman, know you'll be stopping by. He's a good dude.”
There it was… the starting point.
Finally! I told them I was getting that shit this go-round, and I got it!
I’m glad everybody was here and ready to go just in case, and this wasn’t a wasted trip. I was prepared to pull the second base card, and it worked.
Rebel and her geek-squad ass had done exactly what she said she was going to do before I arrived.
That girl could make a computer confess to crimes it ain't even committed. I’m glad she decided to make a move on his account, and it was just our luck we were still here planning, and I was right here to catch the route.
Rebel called in her best friend, Crow. This job was too important, though, so she brought Crow in to make sure everything went exactly as planned.
I'd spent the last two months letting Greg think he was making progress, hoping he'd eventually loosen up enough to tell me something useful. Instead, this fool clutched that armored truck route tighter than old folks held onto Social Security checks.
This kitty got him loose, though.
Tomorrow, he'd drive us exactly where we needed to be without ever realizing he was the one opening the front door.
For Greg's sake...
I hoped he stayed out the way when me and my bitches pulled up.
Bullets ain't got feelings, and on a mission, we for damn sure didn’t. I rubbed my ass against his semi-hard dick. The little wee-wee got lost between my cheeks.
This man was a beautiful waste.
Before he remembered, he just unknowingly told me the start of his route. I bent over and made my ass clap while I grabbed my jeans that were folded neatly on the shelf.
“Dammit, girl. You gon’ take all this pipe.”
This man was delulu. You six at best, and that was a stretch.
“In due time, sweetie. In due time.” I lied while I jumped and wiggled my big ass into my jeans. I missed my leather. That was another thing…no bike.