Chapter 9 #3
“What is it, Keanu?” She sighed, making her way back over to the counters were she was preparing a plate for me. I didn’t give a damn what she had cooked, I wanted some of everything. My stomach was touching my back.
“I can fuck any bitch I want to in the streets. If that’s the type of time I was on, then I wouldn’t need you to make that happen for me.
Pussy has never been an issue for me. I’ve been fucking since I caught my first body at thirteen.
That’s nothing for me, Lyric. Sex. It’s nothing.
That’s why we’re not about to use that shit as a means to fix everything that arises between us.
It’s not the solution. Love is. And that’s what I’m aiming for. Is the pussy good? Fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Best shit I done stuck my dick in but you know why? ‘Cause of the love I’ve invested prior to even taking it there with you. ‘Cause of the mental and emotional connection that we had long before I was bending you over and eating you out. That’s the connection I want to keep building on. That one right there. The mental, emotional one, and the physical will continue to progress. You having that nigga over, that’s not what’s up.
You could’ve took that nigga to a fucking park or a bar to break his heart, not on my territory, Lyric.
“Real shit, how would you feel right now if when you walked in, I was entertaining someone I was fucking with for the last time? Hmm? How’d you feel if you walked in here tonight and there was a woman at the table having dinner with me for the last time?
On the same table I’ve fucked you on. Walking across the same floor your knees were on as you sucked the nut from my dick.
“Having drinks from the same bar that you’ve rearranged and put your own spin to? Eating from the same dishes you’ve washed, rearranged, and plated food you’ve cooked for us on? Hmmm? How would that make you feel? Me giving another woman access to territory you’ve marked for… the last time?”
“Awful,” she admitted.
We both headed for the dining room.
“You feel me? Ain’t no fucking last time, Lyric. Let that nigga down on the curb or at the fucking gas station for all I care. At your house, smiling in your face, and jeopardizing your safety… that ain’t it. Not everyone can brush that shit off their shoulders like that. We both know this shit.”
“I know,” she replied, sitting my plate on the table in front of me. “I just wanted to tell him face-to-face why I’ve chosen to end things with us so swiftly. I feel awful for even agreeing to be with him and then turning around and choosing not to be.”
“Shit happens, Lyric.”
“I know, it’s just that… You wouldn’t understand.”
“And, I will never try, either. But what I need for you to understand is that when I’m in the picture, I’m not dealing with another nigga. If that’s what type of time you’re on, this ain’t going to work.”
“It’s not what I’m on, Keanu.”
“Then, make me a fucking believer. Eight. Eight o’clock tomorrow our plane leaves the hangar.
It was supposed to be the surprise I shared with you tonight but fuck it.
Do whatever you need to do to prepare for a weekend of sexless intimacy.
That includes doing your due diligence and letting that nigga know what time it is.
Whether you’re there at eight or not, it’s wheels up. I’ll send you the information by noon.”
“Where to?”
“Away,” I answered, stuffing my mouth with the moist chicken that was on my plate.
Lyric took the hint, not asking another question because she knew there wouldn’t be an answer for it.
Together, we shared silence as we polished our plates.
When we finished eating, I helped Lyric shut down the kitchen and then headed to bed while she showered.
The comfort she flooded my home with was as close to insanity as it got.
If she’d just act right, we could be on the same shit forever.
Once Lyric was out of the tub, I watched as she slathered lotions and oils onto her skin one inch at a time.
She took so much time to care for herself that I knew she’d be the perfect mother.
Because I knew it was probably what she wanted most, I couldn’t wait to give her a crib full of minis that looked, acted, and dressed just like her spoiled ass.
After she’d finished her nightly routine, she made sure the lights were out throughout the master suite.
She climbed into bed with her back toward me.
Feeling as if she was too far away, I pulled her closer until her body touched mine.
I cupped her chin with my free hand and pulled her face in my direction.
“You better not cry, either,” I warned before kissing her lips and then turning her face back around.
As soon as I let her go and wrapped my arms around her waist, the sniffles began. Lyric was a bonafide crybaby, but she was my crybaby. She hated chastising, and I hated feeling like I was always chastising her, but there was so much shit we had to work through and sweet talk wouldn’t cut it.