Page 13 of Gotta Jones For Ya

I hit the street, leanin’ back in my seat, palm still on her leg, thumb casually strokin’ the inside of her thigh.

I kept the windows halfway down, lettin’ the early evenin’ breeze float through while the city moved around us.

Hustlers posted on corners.

Moms and aunties out front of stoops yellin’ at their kids. The sun was beginnin’ to go down and shit. I glanced at Nyomi every few seconds while I drove, feelin’ my chest tighten. Damn, bruh. The fuck did you do to me?

“Are you gonna stare at me the whole ride or focus on the road?”

she asked, side-eyein’ me.

I smirked.

“I multitask well, baby. Especially when I like what I’m lookin’ at.”

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the way her thighs squeezed just a lil’ tighter together.

When we pulled up to my man B’s spot—a small hole-in-the-wall seafood and soul food joint in North East Hollis—the old heads already sittin’ outside nodded at me like I was family.

“Yo, Knuck!”

“Wassup, youngin’? Ain’t seent you in a minute.”

“You know a nigga stay on the grind,”

I said, hand sliding around Ny’s waist as we stepped up onto the curb.

“This my baby right here.”

She looked up at me, rollin’ her eyes a lil’. I ignored that shit.

The old heads was staring respectfully as we walked inside, whispering and shit. Nothing slick. Just that shit like who she? Oh yeah, she bad, all in one glance. One of the aunties behind the register pointed at us and grinned real wide.

“Ain’t this somethin’? Gon’ bring a pretty one in here. Go ‘head now, K!”

“Chill,”

I said, chucklin’.

The spot was damn near empty, just like I liked it. I dapped up a lil’ nigga I knew who was gon’ make it to the pros one day, then I guided Nyomi to the booth in the back. It was the one I always claimed. She slid in, eyes still bouncin’ ‘round the restaurant, takin’ it all in. The hood quotes on the wall, pictures of celebs, TV’s playin’ Belly.

“You come here a lot?”

she asked.

“Been eatin’ here since I was a young nigga. They know how I like my plate. You eat catfish?”

She smirked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Say less.”

I flagged down the waitress, gave her our order—fried catfish, mac, greens, cornbread, and two pomegranate lemonades. Shit was good as fuck. Then, I leaned back in the booth, my arm slung across the top.

“You always move like this?”

she asked, eyeing me.

“Like you own every room?”

I let my grin stretch.

“I don’t move like I own ‘em. I just know my presence is felt.”

She bit her lip at that and looked away like I didn’t catch the way that flustered her.

“You know what I was thinkin’ ‘bout in the shower earlier?”

I asked, low voice, eyes on her lips.

She raised a brow. “What?”

“That mouth. How come you ain’t bless a nigga yet wit’ them pretty lips wrapped ‘round my dick?”

“Keon!”

“Nah. Don’t ‘Keon’ me, baby. Them lips was made for suckin’ therapy, and I want a session tonight. Real slow. Real deep. I wanna see them eyes water and feel you hum on it like you tryna tell me how much you missed me without sayin’ a word.”

She covered her mouth wit' her hand, cheeks red.

“You are so… crazy. Ugh!”

I grinned harder.

“Only for you.”

Right then, my phone lit up wit' Keema callin'. I hit accept and flipped it to FaceTime.

“Aye. Look who I got wit’ me,”

I said, anglin’ the screen to Nyomi, who looked both shocked and slightly frozen.

Keema squealed, “Awwwwww! I love to see it. Hey girl. I’m Keema, his sister-slash-therapist-slash-warden when he acts up.”

Nyomi laughed a lil’ bit. “Hey…”

“I been tryna get this deranged fool to slow down for years. Now look at him all cuffed up and whatnot,”

Keema teased, squintin’ into the camera.

“You keepin’ him in check, right?”

“Uh…

I caught the nerves underneath Nyomi’s demeanor and turned the camera back ‘round.

“Now you know I can’t be checked. Watch that shit.”

Keema laughed.

“Whatever, nigga. Bring her by Granny’s tomorrow.

“I was already doin’ that, aggy,”

I said and hung up before she could get more jokes off. Nyomi sat back slowly, blinkin’, then sipped her lemonade like she needed to reset. I just leaned in closer.

“And don’t think you gettin’ outta showin’ me what that mouth. I’m tryna feel if you got your tonsils removed or not, like you really posted about.”

She laughed, head tilted back, lookin’ like sunlight on caramel.

“You so damn nasty. Can we digest first?”

Leanin’ back in that booth, one arm stretched across the back and the other laid on the table, I rubbed my stomach and stared at her wit’ a lazy-ass grin.

“Nah, for real. You ready to go back to the crib so we can lay up and then slip and slide between the sheets?”

“I really meant digest our food, nasty. And then, I don’t know, do something else. Go somewhere else.”

I smirked and shrugged.

“I digest better wit’ pussy on my tongue. But go ‘head, tell me what you tryna get into.”

She leaned forward, wipin’ her fingers and glancin’ up at me through them thick-ass lashes.

“Something I’ve never done before.”

That made me pause. My grin didn’t drop, but I leaned in too, eyes on her like I was tryna see past her flesh and straight into the thought behind that request.

“Oh yeah? You tryna cross somethin’ off the bucket list while you in my city?”

“Mmhmm.”

I licked my lips and tapped the table a few times, thinkin’.

“Aight, bet.”

I knew just the thing. I flagged down the waitress, dropped a couple hundreds on the bill and a lil’ extra for the tip.

“Appreciate you, mama,”

I told her, and she winked at Ny again like she approved.

As we stepped out into the sun, I pulled my phone from my pocket, swiped quickly, and hit the line I needed.

“Yo. I need you to open that shit up for me now. Yeah, short notice, but you owe me. One hour. Nah, not later. Now, nigga,”

I said, holdin’ the phone between my shoulder and ear while openin’ the passenger door for her.

“Good looks. I’m on the way.”

I hung up and caught her eyes squintin’ at me, curiosity all up in her pretty-ass face.

“What was that?”

she asked, slidin’ into the seat.

I leaned in, let my lips ghost the shell of her ear, and whispered, “A surprise. Just sit back and let me do what I do.”

She sucked her teeth but I saw the smirk creepin’ across her lips. That nervous anticipation mixed wit’ her feelin’ like she could trust me? That shit did somethin’ to me. Made me wanna keep her on edge forever. Not in no scary way—just enough to keep her comin’ back for more.

Back in the driver’s seat, I fired up the whip again and glanced over at her.

“You trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nah,”

I said, backin’ out smoothly.

“But I like that you ask anyway.”

Her leg was warm under my palm again. I slid my hand up her thigh just a lil’ bit, not even on no freaky timing. Just so she remembered who she was ridin’ wit’.

She was quiet for a second, takin’ in the city like she was still tryna map it all out in her head. Lights flicked on in shop windows. Music spilled from open storefronts. Traffic hummed low as we cruised past murals and old brick buildings that carried stories she hadn’t heard yet.

“This is your city for real,”

she said, glancin’ over at me.

“Born here. Bled here. Earned my name here.”

“And now you run it?”

I looked over at her slowly, that grin spreadin’.

“I don’t run it, baby. I own my lane and make sure it stay clear. That’s it.”

She exhaled, shakin’ her head like she was tryna stay grounded, but I saw it in her eyes. She was fallin’ fast and I wasn’t gon’ stop her.

“Where are we going?”

she asked.

“You gon’ see in a minute,”

I said.

“Just know it’s gon’ be an experience.”

“You’re so damn dramatic.”

“Nah,”

I said, lips twitchin’.

“I’m just intentional.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked away again, tryna stay tough, but I was already under her skin. I could feel it. Hear it in her breath. See it in the way she kept rubbin’ her thighs together like she was tryna forget how I made her feel the night before. And I wasn’t even finished wit’ her yet.