Chapter Tariq “Reek” Horton
TARIQ “REEK” HORTON
Ever since we walked out of Langford’s office, Sienna had been on a nigga’s heels with nonstop text messages, pictures of outfits asking which one I liked, and even nudes.
This “arrangement” was her shot at exactly what she wanted: a man with money, a name with weight, and access to a world her daddy could not buy her into on his own.
I saw the hustle and respected it. I had my own reasons for agreeing.
As far as I was concerned, as long as I got to hit that pussy and this helped the project, everybody won.
By eight o’clock, I was parked in front of her house. It was a big brick house on a quiet street with a huge lawn and a circle driveway.
Minutes after I sent her a text that let her know I was there, the front door opened and Sienna stepped out with a short body fur, shorts barely covering anything, thighs out, and thigh-high boots hugging her legs.
Wasn’t a hair out of place. She looked like one of those rich, beautiful women I followed on Instagram. That shit had my dick rock solid.
Finally, I was fucking with a woman who had her own money. She didn’t need me to save her. All she wanted was my rep and some dick. That was new, and it felt good.
She slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. Her scent filled the car. It was soft and sweet, but not childish, with notes of citrus, vanilla, and something floral under it.
“You smell good,” I said.
She tipped her chin, smiling. “Thank you.”
Then she leaned over and kissed me like she had been doing it for years. Her mouth was soft but not shy. Her lip gloss was sweet, and her tongue teased just enough to make my dick sit up and pay attention.
I liked that. She wasn’t playing no games. There wasn’t any fake modesty because her daddy was in politics. She wanted me, and she was not pretending otherwise.
When she pulled back, I stayed there for a second, watching her. “Where we heading?”
“You hungry?”
“I can eat.”
“I have somewhere we can go.”
“What’s the address?”
She rattled off the restaurant, and I plugged it into the GPS.
“Fifteen minutes,” I said, pulling off.
“That is enough time to decide if you are going to behave in public,” she said, crossing one leg over the other. Her shorts slid up, showing more of her thigh.
I glanced at her, smirking. “I make no promises.”
She laughed. “That is what I am afraid of. My father already thinks you are trouble.”
“He’s right. But I’m the right kind of trouble, I promise.”
She looked at me, blushing. “That is exactly why I picked you.”
“Did you really pick me, though?”
She cracked up laughing.
“You still salty Sincere turned you down?”
“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He did not ‘turn me down.’ He declined a professional opportunity.”
“Same thing,” I shrugged. “You wanted a clean-cut investment nigga and ended up with the one your father probably always warned you about.”
“And, yet, here we are,” she leaned into me. “Maybe I like bad decisions.”
“You upgraded,” I told her. “You just don’t know it yet.”
She shook her head, smiling even while she tried to act fake offended.
“So tell me again why you volunteered so fast when Sincere said no?” she asked, side-eyeing me.
“Your pretty ass looked like easy community service.”
She played offended, making her jaw drop. “Community service?” Then she laughed. “You are ridiculous.”
“You knew what you were doing. You got your little PR game; I got my own reasons. As long as everybody eats, I’m straight.”
“And what exactly are you trying to eat, Reek?”
I slid her a look. “You already know the answer to that.”
City lights blurred past as we rode through traffic. We fell into the same back-and-forth we had been having over text the last few days.
“You really do not care about any of this political stuff, do you?” she asked, studying me.
“I care about the project. I care about my people eating. All this other shit is just noise.”
“And me?” she asked, with one brow lifted.
I let my eyes slowly run over her again. “Sweetheart, I care about seeing what you look like without that fur on. We will start there.”
She shook her head, grinning, cheeks a little pink. “You are a menace.”
“I’ve been called worse, lil’ mama.”
She looked back at the road, still smiling. For all the polish and attitude, she seemed to be down to earth too. She was actually fun. Not just a pretty face chasing a last name.
I had signed up for a performance, but I was starting to think I might enjoy the whole show.