Page 16 of Gotta Jones For Ya

We walked out of his grandma’s house with to-go plates in hand, the sun setting low behind us and casting a warm orange hue over the block. His hand slid to the small of my back like he couldn’t help it—possessive, steady, making sure I knew I was walking next to him and nobody else.

“Your family is funny as hell,”

I said, smirking as we strolled toward the truck.

Knuck chuckled, unlocking the doors.

“Nah, they wild, but they solid. Granny rock wit’ you, though.”

“She had me in that kitchen like I was already part of the family.”

He leaned in close, lips brushing my ear, voice all deep and slick. “You are.”

I froze for a half second before sliding into the passenger seat like he didn’t just say that, heart pounding. His delusion was starting to rub off on me because it actually sounded good to me.

We rode in silence for a little while, his hand draped low on my thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles. My lashes fluttered when he looked over at me during a red light, that damn gold chain gleaming under the streetlights, his profile so fine I had to look away.

“What’s on your mind, Ny?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,”

he said, lips curving.

“You get real quiet when you thinkin’ ‘bout shit.”

I chewed my lip. I didn’t answer. Just nodded a little, biting back a smile as we pulled into the garage. Inside, I kicked off my shoes, and it felt a little too natural. He came in behind me, placing the to-go plates on the counter.

“I’m finna hop in the shower. Come wit’ me.”

I shook my head, chuckling.

“You go ahead. I’m just gonna wind down for a minute.”

“Nah,”

he said.

“We gettin’ in the shower.”

I turned fully this time, brow raised.

“Why are you being difficult?”

He looked me dead in my eyes.

“That’s you. Come catch this nut in the shower, baby.”

“Keon…”

“You tryna argue or get put to sleep?”

I opened my mouth to clap back, but… nothing came out. My stomach flipped, thighs clenched on instinct. He smirked. “Exactly.”

Next thing I knew, I was in the air. “Knuck!”

I yelped, legs wrapping around his waist, arms flung around his neck.

“I told you,”

he muttered against my mouth, walking us straight toward the bathroom, “stop playin’ wit’ me.”

His lips crashed into mine before I could even process that we were moving.

Tongue deep, greedy, aggressive.

He kissed like he wanted to shut me up, claim me, and devour me all in one motion.

I moaned into his mouth, already soaking through my panties.

We made it into the bathroom, and he sat me down on the counter just long enough to yank his shirt off, tattoos looking good as fuck on his dark skin, before he peeled my clothes off like they offended him.

“Damn, you so fuckin’ pretty, Ny,”

he muttered, eyes scanning every inch of me like it was his first time seeing me naked.

“Love your fuckin’ body.”

Knuck flicked the water on, and then he pulled me under the stream, kissing me hard. I backed up against the tile, breathing hard, nipples tight, lips swollen from his kisses. He didn’t waste no time.

He hooked one of my legs around his waist, anchored the other against the bench inside the shower, and lined himself up. Then, slow and deep, he slid in. I gasped. Eyes wide. Mouth open. Nails clawing at his shoulders.

“Fuuuuck…”

I moaned, back arching against the tile.

“That’s it,”

he growled, hips rocking forward with rough precision.

“Take that shit. Let me open this pussy up.”

My head fell back. The water pouring down added to the wet slap of our bodies colliding, his strokes deep and ruthless, each one dragging a cry out of me. He grabbed my ass in both hands, lifting me as he thrusted up into me. Hard. Unapologetic.

“You feel that?”

he gritted.

“Yesss…”

I whimpered.

“Don’t stop!”

He growled again, kissed my shoulder, then buried his face in my neck as he picked up speed.

“Say my name when you cum on this dick.”

“Knuck… oh my God…”

“Say it louder.”

“Knuck!”

My legs shook as I fell apart, muscles clenching around him, body trembling. He cursed, thrust once, twice more, then pulled out. Nut spilling down the drain. We stood there for a long minute, chests rising and falling, water washing away the evidence.

He kissed my temple, then my shoulder.

“You gon’ end up pregnant for real.”

I didn’t even have it in me to respond. All I could do was smile against his chest… and try to remember how to breathe.

**

We were lying up in Knuck’s bed, lights low, Netflix playing something I wasn’t even really watching.

Just background noise.

He leaned back, head against the headboard, legs spread with one arm stretched across the pillows, the other holding a blunt to his lips.

Shirtless. Chain resting on his chest.

I was tucked under the covers, curled up beside him with my bonnet on and one of his t-shirts.

I glanced at him through the corner of my eye and caught the way his jaw flexed as he exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, his free hand lightly rubbing on my thigh like it was second nature now.

Everything felt easy like this had been our routine for months.

Like I was supposed to be here.

How the fuck did this happen?

“Keon.”

He looked over at me, that high smirk already creeping like he knew I was about to say some shit.

“If I gave you a real chance…”

I paused, playing with the edge of the blanket.

“Would you stop acting crazy over me?”

He took a slow drag, let it sit in his chest, then blew it out without breaking eye contact. “Nah,”

he said with a slight grin.

“If you really fuck wit’ a nigga, it’s only gon’ get worse.”

I blinked, lips parting. “Worse?”

He chuckled, low and deep, putting the blunt in the ashtray in the nightstand before leaning over to kiss my cheek. “Worse,”

he repeated, lips brushing my skin.

“Like… now I pull up when I feel like it. But if you mine? I’m already there. I’m on your line all day. Poppin’ up on your lunch break. Fuckin’ you stupid before your clients. Sleepin’ in your bed every night. Buyin’ you gifts just ‘cause. Nuttin’ in you every single time.”

My stomach flipped.

“And if a nigga even look at you too long, I’m on go,”

he added, real calm.

“Not ‘cause I’m insecure. That’s just the type of nigga I am, baby.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. My heart did this dumb little skip, and I had to look away before I melted too loud. I didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just leaned into his chest, eyes locked on the TV but my brain was somewhere else entirely.

How’d I go from telling myself I wasn’t looking for nothing… to this? To him. To feeling shit again. Knuck didn’t say anything either, just rubbed on my thigh, kissed my temple, and let me sit with it.

And I did. I sat with it. With the way he made me feel. The way he kept shit real, even if the truth was crazy. The way he moved for me. Protected me. Wanted me in ways I hadn’t been wanted in… ever. My walls didn’t fall. They crumbled.

I turned toward him, propped up on my elbow, and looked him dead in the face.

“I’ll… give you a chance,” I said.

His brow raised. “Word?”

“But if you fuck up,”

I said, holding in a grin, “I’m gonna have your grandma bust a cap in your crazy ass.”

He burst out laughing, deep and warm like it came from his soul, and snatched me up into his lap so fast I squealed. “Aye,”

he said, nuzzling into my neck, "don't even say that ‘cause she’ll do that shit.”

I giggled into his chest. This nigga…

This ridiculous, possessive, unhinged man. We were supposed to be a one-time situation. Just “fly me out and blow my back out”

arrangement. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel scared about where I was falling. I knew Knuck would catch me. Crazy and all.