Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 4 Part 2

"Naw." He shook his head. "That's not what I'm talkin' about. Do she smoke hard?"

Ant came to the entrance of the living room, stopping short of the couch, to stare at her. Cleo gaze left him to look at C's. She couldn't stand the pity that crept into his knowing eyes. Looking down at her hands, she spoke. "If you talkin' about crack, then yeah." She tugged at a loose thread that hung from her cutoffs. "Has been for long as I can remember. But it's cool though. She ain't like other crack heads around the way who steal and pawn stuff to maintain. Nothing hardly ever gets cut off. She real good about keepin' the bills paid and food in the fridge."

Tears that would never be shed stung her eyes. She hated to put Liberty's business in the streets. What went on at home was between the people who lived there, but this was C's. If she couldn't be real with him then what the fuck was she doing?

"Yeah. She seems like that type." C's agreed in a quiet voice. "You think she'd be cool if you stayed here tonight?"

"C's?" Ant said, through clenched teeth.

He held up a hand to silence Ant. "It's cool. I got this. Go get started." Returning his attention back to Cleo, he tugged her into his lap. "Que pasa? You think she'll mind?"

"I don't know," she said, cuddling closer to his chest. "She was worried about leaving me by myself. But then again she was more worried about what happened with that girl, than leavin' me home alone."

C's wrapped both of his arms around her, cradling her like a child. "It's cool either way. How about you just chill here tonight, and I'll take you to get some clothes tomorrow? You can sleep in one of my t-shirts ." A nasty grin spread across his face as he squeezed her a little tighter.

"Yeah?" Ant asked, leaning against a wall, his hands shoved firmly into the front pockets of his jeans. "And what you think Angela gonna say 'bout you tryna smuggle in some in house booty?"

"Let me worry 'bout my moms, gente." C's slayed him with a hellified glare. "'Sides she wouldn't want her goin' home alone, ya sea."

"Hey. I don't want your mama feeling sorry for me C's. I stay home by myself all the time." She leaned away to look him in the face. "It's nothing. So don't go running a head game or guilt trip on her for me. I'm o-kay."

The muscle in C's jaw twitched like it had a pulse. "Bae, I'm not with you being out there all night by yourself." He held up his hand when she tried to speak. "I know you're use to it, but I'm not. If I took you home knowing nobody was there..."He shook his head. "My mind would be fucked the whole night, yo. And now is not the time for my head to be off point. Not while I'm out here takin' penitentiary chances." His hand stroked the skin at her lower back, while he pinned her with a, I wanna do you right here, stare. "Respect my mind, yo." Leaning closer, he grazed her neck with his lips as he angled his mouth next to her ear. "Stay and have a sleepover with me. We can even reenact that scene you like from Krush Groove. You can be Sheila E. and I'll be Russell. I'll even put on Force MD's, Tender Love, to really set shit off. What you say, bae?"

"You got that song?" Cleo asked, panting harder than a bitch in heat.

C's clucked his tongue. "Do I have that song?" He smirked. "This ya boy, baby. What you think?"

Ant released a loud harassed sigh from across the room, but Cleo couldn't tear her eyes away from C's to look at him. The heat radiating off of him had melted her into a soppy puddle of submission. Her will was more pliable than rubber. It could be twisted, turned, and snapped into whatever he saw fit. He was a drug and she'd unknowingly taken a hit of his potent ass. Without warning he'd gone straight to the dome, knocking her head back all the way to the white meat. She was mentally done. Addicted. What defenses could be mounted against something she craved so bad. Now he was all in her game room. Playing with controls, and shit. Man damn.

"Well I mean it ain't like, Liberty will be home to know I'm not," Cleo said, while trying to maintain her cool. "And if it's cool with your mom's then-,"

C's kissed her so hard she saw red tinged in passion pink. His tongue plundered her mouth so thoroughly, she thought it was looking for something. Air was snatched from her very lungs. Dude wasn't playing. If he wanted her to stay, all he had to do was ask. He didn't have to take her all the way there without a life jacket. Was he crazy? Or did he just not care?

"Don't worry, baby. It'll be cool." C's pecked her lips once more, and then slid her off of his lap, back onto the cushion next him. "Give me a minute to warm up the pizza, and then we'll eat. After that..." He dragged the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. "I'll teach how to cook."

Her eyes slipped closed. "What?"

"Remember when you asked me what I do?" C's minty breath wafted over her.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Yeah."

"I'ma break code and show you." He threw a hard stare Ant's way to stop any bullshit about to trickle from his lips. "I don't do this. So don't take the shit I'm about to show you for granted. Cool?" His brown gaze had an edge sharper than a scorched razor blade.

Unable to say a word, she only nodded.

"Alright. Let me get the pizza, before we get started." C's glanced at Ant. "Go 'cross the street and let Putt know I'm ten. Tell him I'll be through after I eat." He waited for Ant to leave before turning back to her. "Come keep me company while I warm up the pizza. I'll explain the game and my position in these streets."

Cleo allowed herself to be pulled from the couch, and guided to the kitchen. Once inside the spacious room, he deposited her on a stool at the islander, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before, walking over to the refrigerator. His movements were surer than the truth, while his arrogance was worn like a comfortable second skin. Anyone could tell this dude was born to win, just by looking at him. Bet against him? Who? Not her. Sheeit. She was his certified co-signer.

After he popped, four slices of the strangest pizza she'd ever seen in the microwave, C's leaned on the counter-top across from her. He stared into space, focused on a point just over her shoulder so hard, she had to fight the urge to turn around to see what the hell he was staring at. When his gaze finally sharpened, his eyes settled on her, roaming over her face in a gratifyingly slow review. The syrupy heat which drenched her mental, slowly seeped through the holes of her compromised cognition to saturate her over stimulated physical. Damn. Did he always have to take her there? In an untouched part of her brain, her good sense took a last stand before succumbing to death by C's, and screamed: 'Hell yeah, bitch. Always!'