Page 14

Macy squeals when she notices me sitting on her bed. She grabs her towel, the big ass ones she had me buy, and holds it close to her body. Her coils are pinned back away from her face, showcasing her shocked depression highlighted by the bathroom lights behind her.

“dy, why are you sitting here in the dark?”

She taps the lightswitch beside her and the chandelier above the bed turns on.

I lift the diluted coconut oil solution.

“Time for your massage.”

She averts her eyes and I just know she’s squeezing them thick ass thighs together. She does it every time I corner her, just like I brick up every time I stretch her out.

“Do we really have to do it every day?”

“Yes, Mace. I don’t want them to cut you, but if they do, I don’t want you to rip from pussy to ass. That happens, you know.”

She rolls her eyes and starts walking toward her closet.

“Fine, let me–”

I stand and reach her before she gets to the door.

“Nah, you don’t need to cover up. C’mon, it’ll only take a second.”

She can’t look at me in the face, but she nods and lets me lead her back to her bed. I place my hand on her towel and she wraps hers around my wrist, shaking her head.

“Don’t–”

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me, Mace.”

I wait her out, and eventually, she drops her hands. I grip her towel and unravel it, letting it puddle at her feet so I can take her in.

She’s thirty-four weeks pregnant. Her deep ebony skin is stretching to hold our daughter, while her already big ass titties damn near rest on her high, swollen stomach. My hands itch to touch her, caress her, hide her from this fucked up world, and when my eyes shift up to catch hers, my heart damn near stalls.

Trust, uncertainty, and something else I don’t wanna name swim in her dark brown eyes. A better man would walk out now. She can’t trust me. She can’t catch feelings for me. Mace doesn’t catch feelings for no nigga. I can’t be the first one.

That’ll make it that much harder when I eventually leave this world.

But the part of me not corrupted by the big feelings I hold in rejoices. That part becomes possessive and love drunk. This woman who doesn’t need anybody, looks at me as if she needs me. This woman, this genuine, beautiful, amazing woman, trusts me with her everything.

“Lay down,”

I mutter. Her delicate throat moves as she turns and climbs onto her bed.

I grab the towel off the carpeted floor and fold it before placing it where I want her to lay. She crawls onto it and then lays on her back, feet planted on the comforter, legs spread like I like it.

I kneel on the bed in between her legs, never taking my eyes off hers. She knows the drill by now. I can’t think of this as anything else but helping her. I can’t get lost in her curves, her lips, or that pussy that I’m starting to think is made for me.

But I can get lost in her eyes. I can try and figure out everything that makes her tick, everything she doesn’t show the world.

I pour a generous amount of the diluted oil into my palm before rubbing my hands together.

“Had a good day?”

She nods and licks her lips as I start rubbing her thighs.

“She been kicking?”

Mace smiles at that, until I lean down and start rubbing her taint.

“Ye-yeah. She’s very active in the afternoon when I’m eating. I think she’s sleep now,”

she ends on a gasp.

She gasps every time I slide a finger inside of her. She gasps, then widens her legs, and then her eyes roll back until she catches herself and returns her gaze to me.

Only then do I go to work.

I still pay attention to her perineum. I was serious about my baby girl not ripping her, since both Mace and her sperm donor got big rock heads. But when that’s done, I always get her off.

Sometimes twice. Last week I played with that pussy until she was crying.

If this is the only way I’ll ever be inside of her, I damn sure will make it count.

“dy,”

she gasps when I graze her spot. My other hand cuffs her mound and I let my thumb strum her clit.

Usually I stay quiet. Mace is vocal enough for the both of us. But the dread that usually builds before I go off the deep end has been coming in full force. I’ll know where Sincere has been hiding any day now. I’ve set up all my accounts for everyone, including Beanie. I’ve written everyone a personal letter, telling them how much they mean to me.

I meant what I said to Wyn.

I just wanna be with Raya.

And if I’m being completely honest, I want to be with my OG, my pops, Granddad and Nana, too.

I wanna be with Sean, turning up in the afterlife.

I can’t go on like this anymore. My shoulders hurt from carrying all this shit. I’m tired, bro.

And as much as I recognize that I have so many more day ones still living, Mace is right. No one on earth can fill the hole my family and best friend have left.

And I’m tired of trying.

Mace’s pussy sucks my fingers in as she arches her back off the bed. I draw out her orgasm as much as I can, still playing her like the piano, until her back is back on the comforter, and her legs fall all the way open. I pull my fingers out of her, wiping them on the towel, taking in her flushed face, the sweat that beads on her forehead, the lazy smile parting her lips.

“You’re beautiful when you come, Mace.”

Her breaths stall, as surprise takes over.

Right as her round belly moves.

She heaves herself up, snatching my wrist and placing my palm on her stomach.

“Say something else,”

she urges.

I go with the first thing I can think of.

“I see why you got knocked up, and I’m surprised it ain’t happened sooner.”

Macy barks out laughter.

“I have PCOS fool. I wasn’t even supposed to have this–oh! You feel her?”

It feels like Beanie is putting her foot to my hand. I place my other hand on Mace’s stomach, and watch in wonder how it moves and contracts.

“You hear me, Beanie? We still ain’t figured out a name, but you’ll always be a lil bean.”

“I think she likes your voice,”

Mace whispers. When I shift my gaze up, tears are pooling in her lids.

When she leans up and pushes her lips onto mine, I jerk back from the electrical charge.

She felt it too, since she’s back on the bed, too, touching her bottom lip.

Fuck. This is my fault. I got sentimental, when I should have stayed clinical.

It was barely anything, most certainly not enough to be a real kiss. No tongue. Not even a pucker.

But it was enough for me to know without a shadow of a doubt that Macy is more than my Ace.

She’s my person.

And what rotten luck she has, being connected to a nigga that’s broken beyond repair. That’s on his way out of here, that succumbed to the black hole that is his mind.

I climb off the bed backwards and avert my eyes. She looks like she’s about to get up, so I bolt out of her room, not stopping until I get to my crib. I throw on a black hoodie and change into some black joggers and my all black chucks and get out of dodge in my green jeep.

I may not be enough for her, but before I go, I’ll make sure all her opps are taken care of. It’s the least I can do.

Those little pills must work wonders the way Daniel Enoch is dipping his dick in any pretty young girl that walks his way. I mean, even getting shot in the leg didn’t slow him down.

I shake my head as I walk up into the apartment complex in West Kenton. Rented and paid for by Dr. Enoch for his main side bitch, a thirty-seven year old admin assistant at Memorial.

I can’t believe this the same nigga who Patience raves about. This nigga is a god to her, and the devil to so many others, particularly my Ace.

After tonight, she won’t have to worry about this nigga.

I type in the code to the apartment and let myself in. It’s furnished aight; Nut would do a better job on a budget. I hear snores coming from the bedroom in the back, but I take a detour to the kitchen.

I take out my signal jammer and power it on before placing it on the counter. The kitchen looks clean enough, and I can’t help but smirk when I open the fridge and see all the makings of a fire ham sandwich.

“This what I’m talking about,”

I mutter, grabbing everything and placing it on the counter.

She got white bread, but fuck it. It’s not finna kill me one time. I put two slices in the toaster and check my phone while I wait on that.

Mace is stuffing her face with her lactose free ice cream watching Hairspray. Damn… I knew I’d piss her off by leaving, but I didn't think it would get this bad. Thank God I locked up before I left, or all my shit would be–

Nevermind. I switch to the garage feed and see my corvette tires are definitely slashed.

I grab a plate out the dishwasher and shine my phone flashlight on it to make sure it’s clean. After I set that down, I go to my texts.

Me

My tires Mace? Fr?

I switch back to the live feed of the TV room and watch Mace grab her phone. After staring at the screen, she looks up at the camera and flips it off with a menacing grin planted on her face. She types something on her phone then chucks it clear across the room onto a chair.

Mace

Be lucky I didn’t rip up your seats

I pocket my phone when the toaster goes off and get to work. Mustard on one slice, mayo on the other. Lettuce, tomatoes, relish, and hella slices of ham. Salt and pepper, then smash it together and cut in triangles.

“This shit look fye.”

I take a fat ass bite of a corner and moan my satisfaction.

The lights turn on, but I don’t stop chewing. I’m hungry as fuck.

“The hell are you doing here?!”

That nigga Dan bellows.

I turn and take another bite.

“What it look like? Asking dumb ass questions… Ain’t you a doctor?”

I take in the good doctor, shaking like a pit bull with a bat in his hands. Nigga ain’t even put on no pants.

I finish that half of my sandwich and dust my fingers off as his side bitch eases out the hallway.

“Honey, call the police,”

Dr. Enoch says.

“The phones aren’t working,”

she whispers back, but her eyes are trained on me, and I smirk when I see the lust in them.

I take my gun out my side holster and aim it at her.

“I suggest you go back in yo room and lock the door, sweetheart.”

Her eyes stretch and I hear that bedroom door slam and lock in less than a second. When I aim at the good doctor, a wet stain starts spreading on his boxers, and that’s when I notice the pink scar on his shin.

“Take a seat, nigga. I’m not done with my sammich.”

The good doctor’s face furrows but he eases onto the island stool. When I hold my hand out, he gives me the bat, and I set it next to me and grab my other sandwich triangle.

I take my bites extra slow, holding his gaze. He’s getting more and more antsy, fidgeting and shit. His old ass doesn’t recognize me, which works out in my favor. That’s the one drawback of my celebrity status, being recognized. It’s why I have over a dozen programs that scour the internet and wipe off any photos and videos of me anywhere. It’s why all my pictures are distorted, and my music videos are more focused on the leading ladies or my niggas.

I’m not finna be walking around with a mask, but if I ever do need to do some dirt, like now, it won’t be front page news.

The only people who know what I look like foreal are my fans that come to my shows. And even then, my signal jammer fucks up anyone trying to upload anything on social media.

“This sammich fire. I wish y’all had some chips, but no one eats regular Lays anymore. Muthafuckas be wanting fancy shit, when simple is always best, to me at least.”

I dust off my fingers again and lean on the island in front of him.

“My go to is shooting niggas’ faces off, but I’m not tryna have to explain myself years from now if my daughter decides she wants to know her punk ass sperm donor. But if you don’t want me to come visit you, ya old ass wife, or any of yo side bitches again, you’ll leave Macy and her kid the fuck alone unless they reach out to you first. And as soon as the baby’s born, you’re signing over your rights. Got it?”

He nods profusely and folds his fingers together.

“P-p-p-please, I d-d-d-don’t want anything to do–”

I knock the butt of my bitch into his forehead, sending him onto the floor.

“Nigga you think you too good for her or something? Talking ‘bout you don’t want nothing to do with them? Huh?!”

His weak ass is sniveling and shit in the fetal position. When I move him on his back with my foot, the blood gushing from his forehead almost sends my meal back up.

I mean, I guess I’m happy it doesn’t make me faint, but being nauseous is lame as hell, too.

“No, no! She’s a wonderful–”

“Oh, so you wanna be with her? That’s what you’re saying?”

I crouch down and shove the barrel in his mouth. More blood pours from it, and I actually gag.

Yeah, I gotta get out of here.

I grin, and yank it out, making him yelp.

“If you or that ugly bitch in there say anything about tonight, your wife is gonna find out about that other family in Victory City. And by the looks of that cheating clause in your prenup, I don’t think it’s in your best interest to poke the bear.”

His eyes stretch as he nods again, covering his mouth with his hands.

I stand up straight, pocket the knife that I licked, and leave.

I don’t think Dan will cross me. Ole Diana gets everything but his fucking medical degree if she ever gets proof he cheated on her. Gotta love prenups.

Just as I close the door to my whip, my phone pings. I take it out and curse myself when my heart drops to my ass.