Keepin’ Up With The Joneses (Knuck & Nyomi #2)

Chapter 3

T h r e e m o n t h s.

That’s how long I’d been somebody’s mama.

And listen, I thought I knew tired. I really did.

I thought tired was skipping meals because work had me behind, or falling asleep on the couch watching old episodes of shows I’d already seen three times.

I thought tired was forgetting to take my makeup off before bed. This shit was something else.

A whole ‘nother level of tired became my new normal. Tired was me sitting on the edge of the couch, trying to remember if I brushed my teeth. Tired was me rocking Kassim with one arm, while replying to lash vendor emails with the other. Tired was crying one minute and laughing the next. Tired was leaking through my tank top and pretending like it wasn’t happening. Nobody warns you about this part.

Even with my body on autopilot, emotions scattered, and my lashes barely hanging on, every time I looked down at my baby boy sleeping on my chest, I felt love.

Even in the chaos, he was mine. Kassim was damn near perfect, too.

He looked like a combination of Knuck and me.

He had my almond shaped eyes, his wide button nose, my full lips, and his “I said what I said” face.

Our son came out the womb with attitude.

Before all of this, I was running my lash studio back in Arbor Hills, minding my business, healing from my last relationship, and going out here and there. But everything changed when Knuck came along. He flipped my world upside down and made sure I didn’t go any damn where.

Now, twelve weeks postpartum, this was me: maternity leggings, messy hair, milk-stained tank top, ashy ankles, and one fuzzy sock missing.

I looked like somebody’s before photo, still having the nerve to type emails.

One of my new lash vendors had questions about an order I approved.

I had a team now that consisted of three techs, an assistant, and a manager that Knuck made me hire.

Still, I was sneaking to work like I didn’t need to rest.

Kassim started crying out of nowhere, loud and dramatic. I adjusted him on my chest, tried to calm him down, and type one-handed. “Shh, mama’s got you. It’s okay,” I whispered, rubbing his back. Right then, my phone started ringing, and I just stared at the screen.

“Nope. Not right now,” I whispered, knowing she was calling with more wedding planning ideas. I debated whether I should let it ring. Before I could make a decision, the front door opened.

Cold air swept in, and then came my fiancé’s footsteps. Knuck walked in with a fresh fade, black puffer vest, designer black jeans and chains layered over a black hoodie. His cologne and attitude were on ten as he shut the door behind him and looked around once.

His eyes darted between the breast pump on the coffee table, Kassim hollering, my laptop open, and me…

trying to hold it together. His jaw clenched, and that forehead vein popped.

“What the hell am I lookin’ at right now?

” he asked, voice low but heated. I didn’t say anything.

I couldn’t. “Ny,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Why the fuck you doin’ all this?”

“I’m not. I was just…”

“You are.” He stepped forward, looking like he wanted to fight everything that was stressing me out. “Give me the baby.”

“Keon…”

He looked me dead in my face. “Nyomi. Give… me… my son.” I handed Kassim over, and he calmed down instantly the second he hit Knuck’s chest like he knew better than to act up with his daddy.

Knuck rubbed his back in slow circles. “You sittin’ there ‘bout to cry,” he said, brows low.

“Doin’ extra shit and I know your ass ain’t ate shit since I left this mornin’. ”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, but my throat was tight.

Knuck didn’t even respond. He just stared at me like I was lying to his face… because I was. “You ain’t fine,” he said. “And what’s blowin’ me is you know you ain’t.”

“Babe, I was just trying…”

“Nah. Don’t even do that,” he snapped. He walked away, holding Kassim as he climbed the stairs. When he came back down, he was stripped of his clothes and only wearing his jeans, tattoos on full display. “C’mere,” he demanded.

“For what?”

“Nyomi…” His voice dropped. “Come the fuck here.” I walked over slowly, arms folded like a brat. He stepped into my space, heat radiating off his chest. “You just gon’ keep doin’ whatever the fuck you wanna do?” he asked.

“I wasn’t even…”

“You was. Every time I leave this house, you start doin’ too much. I come home after breakin’ my damn back makin’ sure you ain’t gotta stress over shit, and what I walk in on? You damn near in tears tryna work and juggle Kassim.”

“First off, stop yelling at me. Secondly, I’m trying to run a business and…”

“You got a whole staff.” He pointed to the laptop. “Fuck you talkin’ ’bout?”

“Oh, so you’re upset because you’re marrying a hardworking woman?”

“Nah. I’m upset ‘cause you don’t fuckin’ listen.”

That’s when my own attitude flared because who was he talking to? Last I checked, his child was upstairs. “You can’t tell me I don’t listen when…”

“The hell I can’t,” he said, stepping even closer. “You hardheaded. You stubborn. You don’t know how to sit ya ass down and let a man take care of you. You wanna be everything at once, then wonder why you fallin’ apart.”

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes briefly. “Stop yelling at me. I’m tired.”

“You tired ‘cause you won’t do what the fuck I told you,” he said, gripping my jaw gently but firmly.

“You tired ‘cause you think you gotta carry shit I already made sure was handled.” His thumb slid across my cheek, forcing me to look at him.

“You tired,” he repeated, voice dropping, “and you need some dick.”

That last part hit somewhere low in my stomach. My breath shook a little. “I don’t need…”

“Yes, the fuck you do.” He stared at me like he could see my whole soul. “It’s been what? Three, four days since I been in you?” My thighs trembled, and he knew it. “Mmhmm,” he said under his breath. “Lemme fix that shit right now.”

Before I could breathe, he grabbed my waist and spun me around, pressing my front into the wall. My palms slapped against it as his body pinned mine in place. “Keon…” I whispered, already breathless.

“You don’t listen ‘less I make you,” he said in my ear, voice deep, low, and dangerous. “And you been testin’ the hell outta me.”

His hand slid between my thighs, dragging up slowly until he found heat. My pussy was wet, sensitive, already reacting to him before he even really touched me. For the last few days, I just hadn’t been in the mood, and Knuck respected it, but I could tell he was about to be on demon time.

He peeled my leggings down to my knees in one rough, frustrated motion, like he was tired of the fabric being in his way.

Then I heard the heavy sound of his belt unclicking, the zip sliding down, and his jeans hitting the floor behind me.

My whole body reacted. I didn’t even turn around. I didn’t have to. I could feel him.

He wrapped his arm under my chest, holding me tighter. “I want you to remember this shit next time you act like you got it all figured out. You mine, Ny. You lean on me. You need me. You hear me?”

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Say that shit again.”

“I need you.”

“Louder.”

“I need you, Keon.”

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” he grunted, moving me towards the couch. Bending me over, he inserted two thick fingers inside me in one hard, deep thrust that stole my breath.

“Babe, oh my God…” I moaned, arching into his hand. Knuck curled his fingers just right, dragging another helpless sound out of me. He pulled his fingers out just to grab my hips and yank them back, forcing my ass higher, back arching even more. “Babe…”

“You wanna run yourself into the ground?” he asked, dragging his tongue from my pussy to my ass crack. I quivered as he asked, “You wanna act like you ain’t got a whole nigga who handles every fuckin’ thing?”

“N-no…”

“Good,” he growled, lining himself up. “‘Cause I’m ‘bout to remind you exactly who the fuck takes care of you.” Then he pushed into me, slow at first, stretching me open, making my mouth fall apart. He went deeper and deeper until the sound that ripped out of me didn’t even sound human.

“Fuucckkkk,” I gasped, grabbing the couch pillow with both hands, damn near knocking my laptop on the plush area rug.

Knuck cursed under his breath. “I knew it. I fuckin’ knew you needed this.

” He pulled out slowly, then slammed back into me so hard my body jerked forward.

I cried out as Knuck grunted, his pace turning punishing and deep, each thrust landing exactly where stress lived in my body.

“Just let me be your nigga. Your man. Your future husband.”

“Babe… ohhh, shhhiiittt…”

“You think I like seein’ you tired?”

Thrust.

“You think I’m out here grindin’ for fun?”

Thrust.

“I’m doin’ all this so you can live that soft girl life shit.”

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

“I know you a boss, and I respect it…”

Hard thrust.

“…but just listen to me, aight?” I nodded so fast I was shaking. “Tell me you hear me.”

“I… hear… you…”

He smacked my ass hard enough to make my breath hitch. “Say that shit again.”

“I hear youuu!”

“Good.” His rhythm slowed for a moment, but not to be gentle.

To be deeper, full of intention, like he wanted to feel exactly how tight I clenched around his dick.

“You ‘bout to be my wife,” he said against the back of my neck, his breath hot, voice gravelly. “You don’t drown on my watch. You don’t stress on my watch.

If I gotta hire a nanny, then I’ll do that. But you don’t fall apart alone. Ever.”

My moans were nonstop, getting louder by the second. I couldn’t quiet them if I tried.

He groaned, low and filthy. “Fuck, baby… I missed you. Cum on this dick.”

His hand slid around me and teased my clit exactly how he knew it would break me open. My whole body locked as my breath cut off. Everything inside pulled tight like a bowstring. “Babe, I…I’m…”

“Let that shit go, baby,” he ordered.

I broke, cumming hard and loud. I was shaking and gripping the couch pillow for dear life. My orgasm hit so hard my legs bucked, but Knuck held me up with one arm while the other hand kept working me through it. He didn’t stop, not even when I begged and shuddered.

“Nah,” he growled. “You needa nut again. Get that shit out your system.”

“Please…”

“Uh huh…” His thrusts got sharper, deeper, and angled up until I came again. My legs shook violently as I buried my face into the couch, muffling my screams. “Yeah,” he groaned, gripping my hips as he pounded into me relentlessly. “Give me that shit. Give me all that.”

He grabbed my waist with both hands, pulled me back onto him so hard the sound echoed, and groaned deep and raw into my shoulder as he came. We stayed there, pressed together, sweating, breathing hard with his forehead on my shoulder, and his chest rising against my back.

After a long moment, he turned my face gently and kissed me slowly. “You good now?” he asked, voice still thick, still rough.

I nodded, dazed. “Yes…”

He smirked slightly, kissing my jaw. “Good ‘cause you damn sure wasn’t good when I walked in. Now don’t let me come home to your ass stressed like that again. Or I’ma fuck you just like this every time ‘til you get it through that pretty head.”