Page 6 of Gotta Jones For Ya

I should’ve never let this man in my apartment. Should’ve never let him stay the night. Should’ve definitely never let him bring my breakfast and plan an entire “day for me”

like we really go together. There was no doubt in my mind that Knuck was crazy. Certifiable. And yet… There I was, riding shotgun in his truck, trying to keep my damn pussy from throbbing. I was in his world, following his lead.

The boutique was small and exclusive with clothes, shoes, and jewelry. I’d barely made it through the door before his hand was on my lower back, guiding me through like he owned it.

“You gon’ let me pick somethin’ for you?”

he asked, already walking toward a rack of dresses.

“No,”

I said, but my voice had no backbone.

“I’m just looking.”

He glanced over his shoulder, lips curled into that cocky-ass smirk.

“That’s cute. You gon’ be tryin’ shit on, baby.”

I tried to pretend I didn’t hear the sales associate giggle. Knuck pulled a wine-colored dress from the rack, held it up, and looked at me like it was already on my body. It dipped low in the front and was short as hell.

“Try this.”

“Can’t I—”

“Nyomi.”

His tone dropped, soft but firm.

“Just try it on.”

I rolled my eyes, but something in me warmed at the way he said my name. So I went into the dressing room, put on the damn dress, and came out to have his eyes swallow me whole. “Damn,”

he said under his breath, shaking his head.

“You just got my dick hard as fuck.”

Heat crawled up my chest, but I kept my chin up.

“It’s a little revealing.”

“Good. Ain’t nobody else gon’ be lookin’ at you but me anyway.”

“Keon—”

He waved a hand.

“We’ll take it. And three more in her size but different colors.”

I stepped back.

“Now you're doing too much.”

He leaned close, whispering in my ear, “Relax and let me do me.”

After that, we headed to a nice rooftop restaurant, and my stomach growled upon entrance. He walked me in like I was his, like I was supposed to be there, and that confidence did something wicked to my insides. Before we sat, he pulled my chair out. Before I could speak, he ordered my drink: a mango mojito, no mint, extra cold.

My brows lifted.

“How do you know I don’t like mint?”

“You posted in your story about it like a month ago. Some waitress had you fucked up,”

he said, not even looking up from the menu.

I blinked.

“You remember that?”

He glanced up now, eyes locked with mine.

“I remember everything ‘bout you, baby.”

My stomach flipped. Chill, girl. Don’t melt. He’s missing a few screws. But the moment sat with me even after Knuck ordered us both the surf and turf. He leaned back, eyes still on me.

“So what’s up wit’ you? What you do for fun?”

I snorted.

“Fun? I’m a slave for my eyelash line, you know this. Aside from that, I pay bills, link with my girls occasionally, and be disappointed by niggas. That count?”

He frowned.

“Damn. That’s the saddest shit I ever heard.”

I laughed despite myself.

“I’m just saying, I don’t be outside like that. Every once in a while, I step out. I do like art shows, food trucks and good music. I got a skincare obsession and I read smutty books by Thee Tasha Marie when I’m feeling spicy.”

Knuck raised a brow.

“Smutty books, huh?”

“Don’t start.”

“Nah, I love it,”

he said, leaning forward.

“So you nasty and a bookworm.”

The way he looked at me just then? My thighs clenched under the table, and he knew it.

“But what about you?”

I asked.

“Besides crime, felonies, and excessive dick-slinging, what do you do for fun?”

He barked a laugh.

“You wrong for that, baby. I’m not that nigga anymore. I dibble and dabble wit’ the drug shit, but mostly just collect. I’m a businessman now. Own a car dealership back in East Hollis.”

That shocked me. He never posted pictures in reference to that on social media. Judging from his crazy ways, appearance, and slang, I would have guessed Knuck was just another thug. I sipped my drink, eyeing him curiously.

“So what’s your obsession with women you barely know? Threatening folks over them and taking them shopping?”

He grinned.

“I’m really tryna get to know you, Nyomi. Aside from that good pussy.”

I shook my head, but it was hard to keep the smile off my face.

I couldn’t pretend.

The day had been going good.

Better than I expected, honestly.

Knuck was being… bearable.

Still bossy and cocky, but softer with it.

Still watching me like I was his favorite problem, but not saying too much. Just vibes, food, conversation and his hand on my thigh like I belonged to him. And truthfully? I wasn’t trying to fight that feeling right now.

We were laughing about something stupid he said. Some slick comment about my attitude being fake soft and how he could see right through all that “mean girl” shit.

I was blushing before I could stop myself, popping a piece of shrimp in my mouth to distract from the smile creeping up.

“You act like you ain’t feelin’ a nigga, Ms. McCallister,”

Knuck said, leaning back with that smug-ass smirk.

“But you sat there earlier and straightened my collar a minute ago like you was my wife.”

“I didn’t wanna be seen in public with you looking crazy, Mr. Jones,”

I said, rolling my eyes.

“You cared,”

he said, pointing at me.

“Don’t trip, baby. I’ll wife you just for that.”

I laughed, biting my bottom lip.

“Ny? Is that you?”

I froze. Knuck looked at me first, then turned toward the voice with slow precision. It was Jervel, my date from that night. He looked good, but I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to speak when he had another woman on his arm.

“You still out here breaking hearts, huh?”

Jervel continued with that bright white smile, completely ignoring Knuck like he didn’t exist.

My stomach dropped when Knuck narrowed his eyes, looking back and forth between the two of us.

“I know this muthafucka see me sittin’ here.”

“Jervel,”

I said quickly, clearing my throat.

“Hey… nice to see you.”

“It sure is.”

He grinned, eyes dragging up and down me like the woman on his arm was non-existent. She cleared her throat as Knuck’s head tilted. And just like that, the whole vibe shifted. The air felt tight. Pressurized.

“You real disrespectful,”

Knuck said calmly.

“Bold as fuck, too. You walk up on me mid-convo with my woman, tryna flirt? You know how many bodies I done stacked behind less than that?”

“Whoa, bruh,”

Jervel held up a hand, trying to laugh it off.

“Ain’t nobody on all that. I was just saying hey.”

Knuck’s hand rested on the inside of my thigh under the table, but it didn’t stay still for long. I felt him slide under my dress. I gasped. “Keon,”

I whispered, heart pounding as his fingers pressed against my panties, then pushed them to the side.

“I’mma let you finish saying goodbye to this nigga,”

he said low.

“But you gon’ do it while I remind your pussy who it belong to.”

Jervel’s date nudged his arm and said something I couldn’t hear. My eyes fluttered, and my back hit the booth as Knuck’s fingers slid inside me, two at once, thick and slow. “Mm,”

Knuck hummed under his breath, lips barely moving.

“I think it’s time y’all walk away before I catch a charge behind you disrespectin’ me.”

Jervel got smart real quick and stepped off, glancing over his shoulder one last time. Knuck locked eyes with him as he slid his fingers in deeper. I moaned low, breathless, legs trembling under the table. I couldn’t even speak.

Knuck leaned in, voice deep and smooth as he curled his fingers inside, finger fucking me just right.

“Don’t ever entertain another nigga in front of me again unless you wanna watch that muthafucka die. Understand, baby?”

And when I came, silent and shaking, clutching his wrist under the table, he leaned back, smirking as he signaled the waiter with his free hand.

“Check, please.”