Page 9 of Anything Necessary for Her (Crenshaw Kings #9)

Shutting my engine down, I shook my head at myself and sighed dejectedly.

“Fuck is you doing, nigga?” I questioned myself as I dusted off my hoodie.

A knock sounded off on my window, making me grip my heat until I saw that pretty ass face that haunted my dreams on a consistent fucking basis.

Banks gestured for me to unlock the door while wearing her signature smirk. I watched way too closely as she switched around the front of my whip before climbing into my passenger seat.

Her shapely but small dancer’s body was perfect, just like her glass-like onyx complexion, pretty ass green and brown eyes, and her long dark hair that swept the middle of her back.

Her flowery but sweet ass perfume wafted over me, hardening my dick as she slid into my leather seat and shut the door.

“Are you stalking me, Willow?” She planted her elbow on the middle compartment and rested her perfect face on her fist.

Sucking my teeth and looking away momentarily, because I needed a break from that face, I said, “I was making sure you was good. It’s dark as fuck out here, and you known to have shitty guards.” I licked my lips, doing my best to shield the tent rising in my Nike track pants.

She just smiled, eyes moseying around my face and making a nigga who wasn’t scared of shit, not even death, nervous.

“Well thank you, kind sir. But since you stayed out here to watch me, we might as well go get some food.”

“Nah, I just wanted to be sure you was good. I got some business to tend to,” I spoke truthfully.

Plus, if a nigga could barely handle her being in my car right now, I knew getting food wasn’t the move. I shouldn’t have even had my ass outside of her dance class making sure she was safe. That wasn’t my fucking job, and this was LA, where her last name rang bells, sirens, and some mo’ shit.

“Okay.” Her eyes darted off before she said, “We can still eat, and then you can go handle your business.” She turned to sit the correct way in her seat, giving me a view of her body in that tight ass ballet outfit.

“I know your fine ass got bitches to lay up with.” She flashed me a grin with her perfect teeth.

Sure they were white and straight, but her bite was the perfect part. Many people had straight, white teeth, but the smile did nothing. Banks though? Shit. Her full, supple lips, covered in just the right amount of lip gloss, were another perfect story.

I chuckled at her statement, peering out of my front windshield as I said, “Nah, I actually got real business to handle. Bitches after business, always.”

“Okay then.” She nodded approvingly. “I will let you go then.” She gave me a quick smile and started to get out, but next thing I knew, my hand was on her forearm.

“We can eat first.”

“What about bitches after business, always?” She mocked me. Her smiley ass had a nigga smiling back, and I wasn’t the type of nigga to be smiling all the fucking time.

“You not a bitch, so it don’t apply.”

She took me in for a moment, trying to keep her smile at bay but faltered. Even her closemouthed smile was tantalizing.

“Follow me.” She climbed out and went to get into her Jeep, the same one I’d remembered her getting during one of her end-of-summer get-togethers. I was surprised she still had the shit considering her parents were rich out the ass, and her rich ass brothers spoiled her too.

Against my better judgement and everything I’d been preaching to myself since I’d seen Banks as a grown woman, I started my whip and trailed her.

I’d been around Banks here and there since I was nineteen and never paid her much mind.

I had too much shit going on, was hyper focused on money—still am—and had a thing for older bitches.

But seeing her recently was like seeing her ass for the first time.

She was the type of beautiful that got a nigga caught up staring.

The type to get you in some real fucking trouble, like the shit I was doing right now.

The type that made you wanna go hard in the paint so she could sit up and be pretty and spoiled for as long as she wanted.

When she pulled up to a fly ass townhouse, I was able to surmise that this was her shit. This was a bad fucking idea.

Banks was flirtatious as hell, and I wasn’t exactly the most chaste nigga, especially not when a woman as beautiful and fascinating as Banks St. Thomas was, was coming on to a nigga.

Long as I kept my loyalty to Asif in the back of my mind, though, I should be good. At least a nigga hoped so.

Climbing out, I checked my surroundings as I tucked my burner into my waist before trailing Banks up to her door.

Stepping inside, I noticed her spot looked as girly, clean, and expensive as I assumed her shit would. Of course it smelled good as hell in here, just like her.

Suddenly, I felt small like I didn’t belong in her presence, let alone her home. It wasn’t a money thing because I had plenty of the shit. Her aura was rich. Her mind was wealthy, whereas mine was more akin to the gutter.

“Have a seat and relax.” She turned on some music after having me remove my sneakers.

“I have some steaks and have been thinking about them all day. I’m gonna season them and then shower while it rests.

I won’t be long.” She gave me the rundown, and I simply nodded as I sat on her couch, taking in her living room.

“Relax, nigga. You just chilling.” I spoke softly to myself once Banks ventured to her kitchen to season the food.

“You don’t wanna watch TV?” she asked, coming out of the kitchen, headed to the stairs for her shower.

“I don’t really watch TV. May watch an early bird cartoon while I smash some cereal before I hit the streets, but I ain’t home enough to watch shit really.”

“I see.” She frowned briefly. “Okay, well I will be extra quick!”

It didn’t feel long at all for her to shower and come back out, wearing a short ass shiny material type dress with a split too high for her to have on underwear. I could see her nipples as she waved for me to come into the kitchen with her while she cooked.

Her long hair was clipped up with a few shorter pieces at the front, framing her face. Some furry ass socks were on her feet.

“You ain’t ask how I like my shit cooked?” I took a seat at her table.

Smirking, she asked, “How do you like your steak cooked, Mr. Harris?” She didn’t look my way as she allowed the pan to heat up with butter, some herbs, and garlic.

“Well done. I don’t want no blood or pink.”

“Ugh. At least let me make it medium-well.”

“No.” I sat back in the chair, doing the best I could to keep my eyes from drinking in the way her body looked in that tiny outfit.

Her titties weren’t big at all but just enough for me to cop a feel and suck on.

I kept having intrusive thoughts about setting her on this table, spreading her legs, and sucking on her pussy until she was creaming down my beard. That said a lot for a nigga who didn’t eat really.

I stroked said beard at the thought, adjusting myself every time she walked past me, moving around the kitchen with her nipples staring at a nigga.

I was able to confirm she wore no underwear by the slight jiggle of her toned, flawless ass. There was a small tattoo at the top of her left cheek—an image of some sort—but I couldn’t make it out due to the size of it and the color of her outfit.

“Fine.” She smacked her lips. “Oh, and don’t worry about my guard snitching. He and I actually get along, and he has agreed to only report what needs to be reported back.”

“I’m not worried. It’s just a meal.”

She got quiet for a moment, then said, “Okay. Good.”

“How long you been dancing ballet?” I questioned, remembering Asif mentioning her being at dance class over the years, but never caring enough to ask what type.

“Since I was four. They had a little ballet class at my preschool, and that’s where I fell in love with it.” She smiled at the thought as she flipped the perfectly seared steaks in the hot ass skillet before going back to tend to the broccoli she was cooking in a small pan.

“Damn. I always admire muthafuckas who have known what they’ve wanted to do since they were kids.”

“There is nothing you’ve liked or wanted since you were a kid?” She set down two bottles of water.

Other than consistent meals, nah. I kept that shit to myself though.

“Nah. I ain’t never really had no talents like that, and I didn’t have the childhood where shit could be nurtured anyway.”

“Oh.” She looked me over before moving the steaks from the skillet to a wooden board and cutting off the burner cooking the vegetable. “What do you like now?”

“Making bread.” I smirked as she playfully rolled her eyes, as she sliced up the steaks vertically.

“Other than that, Low. Nothing you like to do in your free time?”

“I don’t really have free time, and when I do, I sleep or . . .”

“Fuck?” She brought me my plate and sat down with hers.

“I ain’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You work a lot, according to you, but I am sure you find the time to get that in.” She ate a piece of the good ass steak as I did the same.

I shrugged, not really wanting to talk with Banks about getting my dick wet with other females.

“What you like to do?” I veered off to another topic, hoping we could leave that shit alone.

“Other than dancing, I would say going to brunch. I love going with Kailey and my sisters-in-law, but I can’t wait until Sophie, my niece, grows up and can drink. She loves brunch, but not my type of brunch that involves liquor.”

I smirked, nodding. “I know who Sophie is, Banks. You ain’t have to clarify.”

“I forget you and Sif are close, because you’ve been away for so long.”

“I get it,” I replied lowly since she’d hit ignore on her phone for the third time since she’d sat down.

“You got a boyfriend?” I queried, never having thought about the shit, which was ridiculous. A woman like Banks had to have plenty of fucking prospects.