Sleep released Cleo in slow steady stages. First her surroundings became audible, and then awareness of where she lay, teased her somnolent mental with the mouthwatering scent of C's Obsession cologne. A grin flirted with her lips as she inhaled, to take in more of his essence. It had been almost two weeks since she'd seen him last and she'd missed the shit out of him. So when he finally came for her she couldn't even be mad. Especially, after he told her that things were back on track for him. For them!
"Stop pretending like you sleep," C's voice sounded raspier than usual. He'd must've just rolled over too. "With that big ass grin on your face. Might as well roll over and give yo' boy some of that birthday love." His lips found the side of her neck and grazed over the sensitive skin at her throat. "You know it's been a minute since we played, bae. Let me get that up out you on the house." The hand at her waist, slipped down to palm one of her butt cheeks.
Laughing she slapped his hand away. "What I told you about being so damn nasty all the time? It's too early for me to be hunching all over you."
"Yeah?" Before she could respond the mattress shifted, and a familiar weight settled on top of her, molding itself into every nook, crack, and crevice of her body. Her hips bucked against the solid bulge pressing persistently at the apex of her thighs. "That's what I thought," he whispered, his voice thick and strained at her ear. "So what you tryin' to do, Trouble? Want me to grind on it, or are you finally ready to let your boy get in it."
Cleo's eyes flared open to stare into an intense chocolate brown gaze. The impatient look in his eyes put the inner workings of his mind on wood. He was tired of waiting on her to feel comfortable enough with herself and him to go there. Could she blame him, though? It's not like he was a virgin when they first met. From all of the bitches falling out of his closet, homeboy was getting it in on the reg, and all of that was cut short when they started chilling. So it only made sense for him to want to get back to what he knew.
"Right now?" She asked, trying to stall. Her morning needs hadn't even been taken care of yet, but there he was attempting to meet his.
Pleasure spasms licked the walls of her core as he drove the bulge repeatedly into the crotch of her panties. "Hell yeah, now. Ma downstairs cooking breakfast and Ant ass probably still sleep. We can do this without anybody falling in our zone. What's up? Holla at me, bae."
Before she could answer a fist landed against the room door. "Ay? Angela said come down and eat." Ant's voice floated to them from the hall. "She said y'all got five minutes before she comes up."
"Fuck!" C's growled next to her ear. "Need to check my ass for alarms. Swear she's strapped one on me." He rolled off of her, and reached down to adjust the knot in his basketball shorts. "Give us a minute," he yelled at the door.
She sat up and watched C's slide from the bed. He swaggered over to his closet, flipped the light on, and then reached for something on the shelf. When he stepped back, he had a gift wrapped box in his hands with a sexy ass smirk on his lips. Her lower belly clenched as her knees sought comfort in the other.
"What's that?" She asked, coming to her knees to sit on the heels of her feet.
He slapped her hands away when she reached for the present. "What you think it is, bae?" He asked, giving her the, are you crazy, look. "Your first gift. Want it or what?"
Cleo rolled her eyes with a grin that tried it's best to touch her ears. This time she snatched the present from his hands and ignored the pounding against her chest cavity. It had been a minute since she received anything on her birthday. Hell most of the time, Liberty forgot so she'd spend the day like any other day. On the steps. When she finally did remember, maybe a week or so later, she'd give her a twenty and send her to the corner store for anything she wanted as long as she brought back her change.
After she tore the silver and red wrapping from the box, her eyes flared and her mouth hung open like both jawbones were broken. "A Sega Genesis. The CD edition?" Her gaze found his. "How much did this cost? It had to be a grip."
"Stop actin'," C's said, tucking one of her wild ass curls behind her ear, while his gaze crept over every inch of her face as if he were attempting to take a mental picture. The smirk was gone and a genuine, stop your heart, smile dimpled his right cheek. "You know I'd rip my pockets off for you, and did. Wait 'til you see the other shit I got you. This ain't nothin', bae. Ya boy kicked out." A unit crossed his features and DOA-ed the smile. "And I betta not hear about your mom's pawnin' your shit or trading it with dudes in the Ninth for that recook."
"She only gives away the stuff I out grow," Cleo said, pushing the game system off her lap. He'd pissed her off talking about her mama. "And you act like she stay pawnin my stuff all the time. It only happened once and you got your Super Nintendo back. I 'on't know why trippin'."
"Get your ass from under the point. That bitc-," C's bit back the word, when he glanced at the hate maker on her face. Inhaling, and then exhaling he rolled his shoulders, before beginning again. "Look. Your mom's don't have any business sellin' your shit. Especially, not the shit I break bread over. I don't do for you just to keep her ass smokin'."
Cleo hopped out of the bed, knocking her Sega to the floor in the process. She paused to look down at it, but left it where it was when she peeped the tension in C's face. Fuck him! And his stupid ass gift. He must've lost his damn mind talking about her mama. She didn't care if Liberty lined up everything he'd bought her, in the parking lot and had a ghetto ass yard sale. Nobody put their mouth on moms. Nobody! Not even him.
Grabbing the door knob, she yanked the bathroom door open, but before going in she spun on her heel to commit a verbal assault. "And let somebody say something about-,"
Her words were forced back down her throat by his tongue. Motherfucker! He'd snuck her ass without even making a sound. Lifting her up, Cleo's legs found his waist and locked together around him at her ankles. Without breaking stride, he swaggered into the bathroom with her snaking his body. Once inside, he kicked the door shut behind them and deposited her on the counter of the sink.
Between their tangling tongues, and the grinding of his hips into hers, his hand found its way under her shirt. Using the pad of his thumb, he flicked her nipple. She froze and melted all at the same damn time. It was the first time he'd touched her breast without the barrier of her bra, and she'd felt the rough caress all the way down inside the walls of her good girl. In one hustling second, the sensation had bust her mind wide and opened it to new possibilities
Breaking the kiss, he leaned back and cocked an eyebrow at her in question. "You love me, right?" Unable to use her words, she nodded with eyes stretched wide. "Then its time, bae. I'm tired of us saying the words, without the benefit of the action. Told you when we first reconnected, titles or words don't mean a damn thing if there's nothing behind them. You say you love me? Show me."
His hand slipped between their bodies to rub her pearl tongue through the cotton of her panties. As if rehearsed her hips left the counter to add pressure and friction to the circular movements of his thumb. As he manipulated the sensitive bundle of nerves, his rhythm and timing became her religion. She worshiped every mind numbing stroke. Praised each caress in hoarse broken whispers as they drove her closer to the pinnacle of her end. Where problems didn't mean shit and animosities were corrupted by the erotic build of something she was never really able to name.
C's was turning her out and by the smug smirk plastered across his grill, it had been his plan all along. Draping one of her legs over his forearm, he used his hip to force the other thigh in the opposite direction, while his index finger wiggled beneath the elastic at the crotch of her panties. When his fingertip grazed the opening of her core, every bone inside of her softened and became no better than rubber. Her body folded in on itself, causing her back and head to crash into the bathroom mirror.
"Damn, bae," C's groaned before he pressed his mouth to hers in a quick kiss. "It's like somebody turned on a hot water tap down here. Fuck you wetter than a mug."
"C's!" Ant's fist slammed against the bathroom door, and Cleo's heart jumped in her throat. "Bring your ass. Angela's thirty-eight 'cause the food's gettin' cold. And she still needs to start settin' shit up for Lil' Crazy's block party."
"Five minutes," C's yelled, through clenched teeth as he squeezed his eyes closed.
"Man, come on now," Ant yelled back. His tone just as pissed off as C's. "You know how your crazy ass moms can get. She startin' to look at me all cross eyed and shit. Like she wanna ask me if I know what's goin' on up here."
That was it! The last thing she wanted Angela to think was that she was up there being fast with C's. After the whole shooting Ant thing, her lips were permanently glued to his mom's ass. She pushed at his chest, but he didn't budge. Instead he shot her a unit as if she'd betrayed him.
"What?" She snapped. "Do you want her to come up here?"
He stared at for several seconds, and then surrendered his spot between her legs. "Here we come, niño." When she hopped off the counter, he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest. "So are we gonna take it there or what?"
"Now?" Was he crazy? Did he not just hear what Ant said?
"Fuck naw. I got us a room for later." he said, drilling her with a unit. His glare swung to the door. "That way a bitch will have to find us to stop something," he said, loud enough for anyone standing on the other side of the door to hear. Then his warm chocolate gaze reclaimed hers. "That's if you're ready. You are ready...right?"
Unsure about her own damn name, let alone whether she was ready to take that next step with him, she nodded her head to keep down the confusion and beef between them. It was her birthday and today of all days she wanted to be on the same page as him. A panty dropping grin blessed his lips, and she pushed down the urge to hop back on the counter and demand that he finish what he started.
"Go 'head and get yourself ten." He leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth. "I'll hold off ma to give you a little time."
With that, he opened the bathroom door and slipped from the room, leaving her alone and dazed by what the hell she'd just committed herself to.
~ ~ ~ ~
For breakfast, Angela made Southwestern omelets, waffles, and peeled fresh mangos. Cleo was not normally a morning eater, so she wasn't feeling all the stuff that was cooked in her honor. She ate anyway, though because she didn't want to hurt Angela's feelings. By the way she pranced around the kitchen, Cleo could tell cooking had put her in a good mood, despite the attitude she'd served her and C's up when they first came down.
Hell, she even went as far as to tell Cleo to call Liberty and invite her over for the party. She agreed, but had no intention of calling her mom's crazy behind. Shoot, soon as Liberty touch down she'd be all in Angela's grill, trying to start some mess. For everything she loved, Cleo couldn't understand why her mom's hated Angela so much.
After breakfast, she lounged around and marked every hour that passed with a new gift from C's. His plan was to give her a present every hour on the hour until midnight. The idea was good in theory, but hell, most of the gifts were for him, not her. The little freaky trinkets he'd bought her only served to remind her of the promise she'd made that morning.
Seriously, how many buttless drawers can a person have? And don't even get her started on the fruit roll-up G-strings. Did he really expect her to let him eat the underwear right off her ass? God! What kind of freaks was he used to? Or was that freak nasty shit normal? The fact that she didn't know spoke mad shit, that she was not ready to do the dew with C's. Why couldn't he see that?
Around four, the block party that C's and Angela threw for her began to pop. It seemed like damn near the whole Circle had come out to set if off for her birthday. Even Tina slab ass was there posted in Putt's yard, stalking the hell out of Taz, while eye balling C's. Cleo's fists clenched at her sides. She still owed that bitch one for that sneak attack from a couple months back, but later for those plots and stunts. She'd get the slut soon or sooner.
Dismissing Tina, her gaze drifted to the four Sedans and Limo parked in front of Putt's house. Who in the world did those vehicles belong to? She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling. Silently, she prayed C's hadn't found something else to get into. That crazy Puerto Rican loved to keep shit going. Sometimes she wished he had a switch on him just so she could shut his ass down. Especially, when he messed around and got too live.
Cleo eyes left the black on black vehicles, and landed on six different Latino dudes in Putt's yard who looked out of place in their dark suits, and even darker sunglasses. Everything about them were strategic, even their movements. Two stood at the front door as if they were guarding the entrance, while the others walked the property and stared at folks like they had a damn problem.
Just then, Putt's door swung open, and even more men dressed the same way as the others poured from the house, followed by another man who wore an all-white suit, with a rose colored silk shirt that had gold buttons at each of the sleeves. Aside from the clothes and the floss, she could tell he was in charge. The way he carried himself, spoke loud as hell of his authority, and reminded her of C's. Dude was used to calling shots and expected everybody to jump when he did. Even the afternoon breeze knew better than to stir the wild tangled curls that adorned his head.
Putt trailed the man in white to the center of the yard, and the—around the way—boys shooting dice parted like a ghetto Red Sea. In their cases it would've been more accurate to say brown, though. Either way, they gave the man and his squad more than the customary five feet. Shoot. They gave him fifty.
Cleo watched as the man turned to say something to Putt, who in turn glanced around the block until his gaze landed on her. Once it did, he waved for her to come over as he nudged the man at his side. She frowned. What the hell did Putt want with her? Better question, what did dude want with her? He looked more eager for her to roll through than Putt.
Curiosity won out over hesitation as she crossed the street. She stopped about two feet away from them, allowing her gaze to swing from Putt to the man, and then back. Up close she was able to get a better look at the stranger, and nothing about him was weak. Not even his features. From the sharp slanted angle of his jawbones, to the uncompromisable set of his shoulders, everything about this man exuded power. Next to him C's was just a boy playing gangsters with his friends.
"Feliz cumpleaños, Prima," Putt said, reaching out and tousling her curls. Slapping his hand away, she shot him a dirty look which only made him laugh. "This is my tio Juan Alejandro." He gave the man a sideways glance. "The block party's for her, tio."
Putt's uncle mouth shifted underneath the well-groomed facial hair which covered the lower half of his face. The crinkles at the corners of his forest green eyes suggested that he'd smiled, but she really couldn't tell one way or the other.
"So you're Liberty's daughter?" His voice greeted her ears in a raspy baritone, lightly influenced by a Spanish accent.
Cleo tensed, but bobbed her head. She hated talking to grown men about her mom's because they always had this look that said they knew more of Liberty than her. "She mentioned you, Putt's and C's dad a couple of times. Said she use to run with y'all back in the day."
His mouth shifted again. "That she did. We were close once upon a time. Before she married your father that is." With that admission his green eyes became laser focused as they assessed her face.
"Married?" Her neck snapped back. He must've meant another chick who went by the name of Liberty. "Liberty ain't ever been married. Matter fact, I doubt she even know who my sperm donor is. You sure we talkin' about the same person?"
Cleo didn't miss the: 'I told you so' look that Putt gave Juan Alejandro, but it seemed he did, because he was busy visually stalking her. Hombre even had the nerve to raise his hand like he wanted to touch one of her curls. Had he lost his mind? She backed out of his reach. The entire change in his vibe had her glancing longingly over her shoulder at C's house.
His hand dropped to his side as sadness dimmed the glint in his eyes. What the hell was up with him? Was he really that upset because she hadn't let him touch her hair?
"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I was told, Liberty had married."
"Well somebody lied to you," she said, hitching her mouth in a smirk. "Liberty isn't exactly the marrying kind, but she does okay on her own. We both do." Her mouth clamped closed and she dropped her gaze to the ground as she tried to figure out why was it so important to add that last bit.
A boney arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Feliz Cumpleanos, chica," Pep said, holding up a small gift wrapped box. "Want your present now or later when we're alone." He licked his lips like that would sweeten the offer.
"Let's go open it now." Rolling her eyes, she shrugged his arm from her shoulders. Before turning to leave she threw her hand up at Putt and the man. "Later, Putt. Nice meeting you Mr. Juan Alejandro." Putt waved, but his uncle didn't reply, he just continued to stare at her as if he were attempting to pick apart every spare expression on her face to define the meaning of each.
Anxious to put distance between them, she spun on her heel and hurried back across the street with Pep stepping on the heels of her brand new Air Max's. When they were back in C's yard she flung herself in a lawn chair, while Pep dropped down in the one beside her.
"What were you talkin' to Putt's tio about?" He asked, pushing the present at her once again.
Ignoring his question, she snatched the gift from his out stretched palm. She used her thumbnail to sever the tape holding the top to the bottom. Once the lid was removed, her lower jaw bone dropped. A gold charm bracelet rested against the cotton lining of the box. Her gaze swung to meet his.
"Is this real?" She asked.
Pep's chest puffed as his chin jutted an inch higher. "Hell yeah it's real. It cost me some serious duckets. The diamonds on the handle of that whipper are real too, chica," he said, pointing at one of the charms hanging from the bracelet. "Taz got you the charms, but the bracelet's all me."
Cleo fingered the tiny diamond chips on the miniature sized dice. "Pep where did you get the money for this. Did Taz loan it to you?"
"Nope," he said, shaking his head with an offended look on his narrow face. "I sold my chopper to Rod on Ares and got over on his ass like a mug."
Cleo shot from her chair, and used all her strength to push him from his. He hit the ground and tumbled backwards from the seat. Before he could climb to his feet, she stood over him and placed a sneaker on his chest to keep him from standing. He stared up at her looking all turned on and shit. Like she'd straddled him instead of knocked him on his ass.
"Why the hell did you do that?" She demanded. "You loved that raggedy ass bike. Rode it everwhere, even to come see me. Now how will you get around?"
He grabbed her ankle, and stroked the back with his thumb. "I'll get Taz-,"
"Just shut up," she yelled, stomping lightly on his chest to shake his hand from her ankle. "You know damn well how Taz is about driving you anywhere."
"Trouble?" C's laughed, walking up on them. "What the hell super jit do now?"
She rolled her eyes. His, happy go lucky, mood was beginning to piss her off. Especially, since she knew what had put the bounce in his step. "Nothing," Cleo said, taking her foot off of Pep's chest and backing away to give him room to stand. "Just Pep being Pep." On the sly she stuffed the gift box in the back pocket of her jeans.
C's gaze slid over her face, in the way that always made her heart want to beat right of her chest just to get near him. He lifted a hand and held it out to her. Her feet shuffled in place on their on accord as her legs battled to betray her will. The effect he had on her was downright visceral. Instinctual, really. She'd long since stopped questioning the control he had over her and just learned to rock with it, with him. Maybe she really was ready, to take that step with him. Maybe she just needed to boot the fuck up and stop being a little girl about grown woman things.
Before Cleo could take a step toward him an all black Mercedes zipped through the Cul-de-Sac and damn near ran down a little girl in the process. If it wouldn't have been for Ant, the child would've been a stain on the road. Once the car rounded the block it slammed on brakes in front of C's house.
"Cleo," C's yelled, with an expression she'd never seen on his face before. Fear!
Not even a fraction of a second after her name left his lips, the backdoor of the 300 opened and a body toppled from the back seat an hit the curb. Feminine gasps and shrieks sounded from around the yard as the window on the passenger seat lowered. A man with a scar from his ear to the corner of his mouth leaned forward to glare at C's with eyes so empty they could've belonged to a corpse.
"Get the fuck down," C's roar, ripped through the shock motivated silence.
"You're next, hijo de puta!" The man hissed from the car.
The pale face disappeared from the window and was replaced by the holey black barrel of a Tech Nine. Before panic could set up shop in her stunned mental, the drum of the gun exploded in fire, as gunshots echoed throughout the block like a string of fireworks.
"Nooooo!" C's howled.
His voice was the last thing she heard before her body slammed the ground and oblivion took her under.