Page 15 of In Too Deep

I was floored. Romelo motherfucking Jones was eating my pussy and sucking on my ass like he was eating a plate of neckbones with a bottle of hot sauce on the side, sucking and slurping on his fingers like he was starving.

I knew the moment his tongue slithered in and out of me that I’d shaken hands with the Devil, and whatever Romelo had plans on doing with me, wasn’t a means to an end.

Even hearing him mention not caring about his current status with Trecee, it was messy.

It could get messy, and nonetheless, he didn’t seem to care.

Against the odds of whatever they had going on, he was determined to start something with me, and I didn’t feel indifferent about any of it.

“Me and this pussy locked in, Synthia. You better catch the fuck up because regardless of what I got goin’ on and who I’m wit’, when I want this pussy.

I want it, and I’ll jump over whatever hurdle to get it.

Don’t deprive me of this good shit. You hear me?

” He raised his bushy brow and zeroed his gaze in on my eyes and posture.

My ankles were still dangling by my ear.

“I hear you,” I muttered.

He was every bit of a king and every girl’s wet dream and dying fantasy.

I knew this was wrong, but another part of me saw this as an opportunity to get what I needed or whatever he was willing to offer that I could take.

My mouth could remain hushed, and I wouldn’t use Trecee as collateral.

If Romelo wanted something out of this and doesn’t mind doing a little tricking to get it, then who am I not to oblige him.

Being riddled with guilt would steal my joy, but if it’s worth getting what I need for now, then so be it.

“You got some towels and shit, so I can clean you up?” he asked.

With a shaking, dainty finger, I pointed past him, looking at my dimly lit hallway. “It’s the first door on the left. I have some clean towels under the sink.”

I released my ankles and dropped my legs.

My ass felt drenched, so I knew the wet stain underneath my ass was huge.

I couldn’t even face myself to look down, but I knew I created a puddle on the floor, seeing Romelo step over it to avoid slipping.

I’d be ashamed to say I’ve never came so hard from head in my life.

Men in today’s time didn’t know there way around pussy.

They just lick and nibble at what they think feels good as opposed to feeling the woman and seeing what she likes.

But Romelo was slurping my pussy, teasing my clit, and licking it like he was drawing his full name in cursive—claiming ownership.

If this is what Trecee was getting, I see why she was crazy over him, acting different and funny.

His head game was lethal, making me question what his dick was like.

I’ll be opening Pandora’s Box if we cross that line.

Entering the room, he staggered, walking with a limp like his dick was heavy, carrying a wet towel. I noticed his beard was clean, and he wiped most of what he could off his face. He bent down and gently parted my legs open wider to clean my pussy like he was wiping a baby’s ass.

“Damn, I could dive into this shit some more and feast on you all night,” he murmured, eyeing my pussy like it was some dessert on display. “Had I known you’d be juicy as hell like this, I would’ve got a towel.”

“It’s so embarrassing,” I giggled, putting my hand over my face as my cheeks became heated.

“Don’t be embarrassed by that juicy fruit. Bitches be out there with cotton pussy. Pussy dry as fuck like some Welch’s fruit snacks.”

“Oh my god,” I cackled while throwing my head back, having a laughing fit. “That has to hurt.”

“I done spit started a few pussies,” Romelo continued.

I sat up, straightening my posture. My pussy felt icky now, and though he wiped off whatever he could, a shower was much needed.

This nigga came here for a plate of soul food, demolished that and me afterwards.

The moon was peeking behind the stars in the clouds now, which indicated he’d been here longer than we expected.

It made me wonder if he checked in with Trecee about his whereabouts or if that was a thing between them.

Hearing him talk about their relationship, it all made sense now that it was a facade, and Trecee was living the life of a lie.

“You got a fire ass record collection.” He spoke with his chin over his shoulder as I sauntered back into the living room.

The well needed shower had me feeling so much better. The aching thump in my panties would have me suffering in the morning. I was still in disbelief that I let him stretch me out on the couch, legs spread out like an eagle’s wings.

Ruffling my fingers through my semi damp hair, I smiled. When he entered my home, I caught him eyeing my prized possessions, including my music collection. I’m very eclectic and always have been.

“Yeah, I love music. When they opened that record store downtown, I was geeked. It’s only so many of them I was able to get at Target, and then sufficed for Amazon. Do you want more food?”

“Nah.” He answered.

“Anything to go? I can’t eat it all by myself,” I pushed the fact.

“Go ‘head.”

As I fixed his to-go plate, he fiddled with my record collections before settling on D’Angelo’s Brown Sugar album. Brown Sugar serenaded lowly throughout the living room. I joined him, humming along after sealing his plate in a grocery bag.

“Why are you single?” He spoke, breaking my thoughts, cutting through my vocals, had me sounding like a broken record with his impromptu question.

I was on the other end of the sectional. There was a towel that I’d given him on the couch, so the wet spot could dry faster. I had a mindset to clean over the spot with some disinfectant later on.

My shoulders hunched up. “I’m picky about who I let into my space.”

Romelo nodded. He was so manly looking. Any movement he made, subtle movements too, his muscles flexed.

Romelo wasn’t buff or butch. He was lanky but still fit, like he had an active gym membership and kept his body toned just enough.

When he reached into his pocket and shook a baggy of weed, he was polite enough to ask if he could smoke in my home before rolling up and firing up the Russian cream.

“I can dig it. I know you turn down numbers and shit every other day.”

“It isn’t flattering,” I murmured.

Grabbing my ankle with the Cuban anklet snaked around it, I placed it under my thigh and cocked my elbow on the couch and rested the side of my face in my palm.

“How come it ain’t? You know niggas in the hood want you. Niggas like me like being used for something after getting something. If it’s worth it.”

“That’s the thing. Niggas want pussy only and don’t want to do all that comes with working for it or keeping it.

Pussy has maintenance. Pussy has bills,” I shrugged.

“Niggas have motives that don’t go beyond anything besides fucking.

I’ve never been flattered by being called thick or the big girl, or whatever society deems plus size.

The social fetish that men have over me is creepy. ”

“Yeah,” he inhaled with a slow head nod, then slowly exhaled, making sure to turn the other way to avoid blowing smoke in my face. “Niggas be wanting a lot after providing a little. You want a hit?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You don’t smoke?” He grinned, revealing a VVS bottle grill.

“I don’t drink either.”

“Juicy, you’re a good girl.”

“Yeah, I’m the party pooper too. I don’t see how people get high. I tried an edible and was high for two weeks,” I guffawed.

“An edible high is some whole other shit,” he waved me off. “That shit is a baby step from taking shrooms.”

“Well, I’ll never do it again. One time taught my ass a lot, and I don’t see how people drink, scrunch up their face, and keep on drinking it. I threw up for days after drinking some Don Julio. My recovery landed me in the emergency room.”

He chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. You need to drink it with a chaser. Should’ve drank some pickle juice. It eliminates the taste and the hangover ain’t a pain in the ass.”

“Hmm Hmm, it sounds like you know how to party.”

“I know how to get on my level…have a good time too.”

I grinned as I began to toy with my hair. The mellow neo-soul music, a warm blanket of sound, filled the space between us before I spoke.

“Thank you again for the money the other day.”

He darted his eyes open. They were beginning to get red and low. “Don’t sweat the small shit.”

“It helped out in more ways than you know.”

“I don’t even know how much I gave you. It was whatever I had in my pocket.”

“I flipped it,” I blurted out.

Leaning back on the couch, he looked more relaxed now. Glancing over at me, he licked his lips before taking another pull from the blunt.

“How you flip it? You purchased more household supplies and shit?”

“Nah.”

I gulped. Allen told me not to mention it, but the only reason I’m mentioning it to Rome now is because he owns a cellular company, and it could be a good investment for him.

The turnout could be major, and my pockets could be well endowed, stealing the freight, reselling the iPhone for twice the market price.

I could see it being huge with a system that’ll be good for everybody.

He raised his brows and leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees. “What’d you do?”

“You own a cellphone company, right?”

“Yeah, Telo Wireless. The hottest shit out right now since black and blue.” He smirked, mentioning the phone company Infinity from the movie I Got The Hook Up , when actor Master P and AJ Johnson starred as Black and Blue cloning phones.

“I think if you put me in the game, we could make a killing. How do you get your phones?”

“I got a plug who knows a plug with a plug,” he shrugged and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And you pay a percentage twice the amount of what you sell them for, right?”

“Something like that. It’s deeper than that… more lucrative.”

“So, if you give me 30% less than what you give your plug, I can give you more than what they're giving you,” I bargained.

“How so?”

Biting down on my lip, I twiddled with my thumbs before getting up and sauntering out of the room and into my bedroom to retrieve the duffle bag full of iPhones.

I still had some in storage, so this wasn’t the last of it.

Trekking back in the living room, my slippers slapped against my hardwood floors before I treaded across the rug.

I plopped down next to him and unzipped the bag.

Rome was the least bit fazed until he started rummaging through the bag, flipping the phone over, and running his hands across a circular colored sticker.

The phones didn’t have all the same colors, but Allen never mentioned what the colors were for, and if it meant anything, I never deemed it important enough to mention to him either.

“Who you hit up?” Romelo spat, glaring at me now. His handsome face was crumbled up into a frown, and his bushy brows furrowed.

“What you mean?”

“These phones mane! Aye bruh, this my shit!” His voice boomed throughout my home, causing the walls to echo.

In a quick blink, he reached behind him and pulled a gun from behind his waist and pointed it at me.

I surrendered, my hands shaking in fear, and I could feel the sweat on my palms. The glare on his face was menacing, the opposite of the charming killer I had known him to be a few seconds ago. This couldn’t be the same man who was eating and sucking on my pussy like it was the last supper.