Page 20

Priest's eyes hawked over Britain as he watched her attentively. She was focused as she put different sized buds of weed into the grinder, rotating her wrist four times before it was all ground up. Britain wasn't a smoker, but she was intrigued by the process and effect of it, but not enough to try it, though.

Just a few minutes before, she had asked Priest how to perfectly roll a blunt just like she had seen him do in a matter of a minute. Priest laughed her off, but she remained persistent. He warned her that she wouldn't be perfect her first time around, but consistency would get her to where she wanted to be.

"Is this okay?" Britain glanced over her shoulder at Priest after she dumped the ground weed from the grinder onto the rolling tray.

Lounging on the bed, Britain sat between Priest's legs with her back to his chest. He was sitting against the headboard, using his fingertips to caress small circles on her bare thighs. Looking over her shoulder, Priest examined how well she ground the weed. He nodded, satisfied with the outcome.

An accomplished smile spread across her face. "It looks like parsley." She pinched a small amount between her fingers, holding it up to her nose to take a deeper sniff of it. The sticky leaves clung onto her finger, causing her to use her acrylic nail to scrape it off.

Priest laughed, finding her comparison of weed to parsley comical. "Alright, don't never say no shit like that again," he warned jokingly. "This that pressure. This'll have you smacked."

She nodded her head with a laugh before taking the already split leaf into her possession. "Alright, what's next?" she asked him as if she were an eager student.

Priest rested his head on Britain's shoulder. "Now you fill it up to your liking. Not too much, and damn sure not too little," he advised her.

Britain nodded and did as she was instructed. He watched her precisely fill the leaf with her desired amount of weed. He would have rolled a little more, but he was going to let Britain have her little moment. She glanced over at him nervously, hoping she completed the step correctly. He nodded in reassurance before reaching out to even out the distribution of the weed within the leaf.

"Alright. You can do the rest." She sat it down on the rolling tray before handing the tray over to Priest.

He chuckled at how easily Britain gave up. He took the tray from her, proceeding to add more weed before he began rolling it. Britain smacked her lips. "You told me that was enough."

"I mean it was… for you," he assured with a shrug. "But for me, I put some more."

She rolled her eyes slyly before turning around to face him. He felt her hard gaze fall upon him as he utilized both his hands and lips to roll the blunt to his liking. It stunned Britain how fast he could get one down. She knew if she had continued her attempt, she would still be in the process.

Priest patted his pocket for a lighter, but, to his dismay, he came up empty. A smirking Britain wagged the lighter in his face tauntingly, causing him to smack his lips playfully. "You really wanna play games?" Priest chuckled.

"I have a proposition for you," she prompted, her smirk still all over her face.

"What?" He raised a brow.

"I come to your trial when we get back," she proposed with a hopeful look in her eye. Although Priest never spoke about it much, Britain was fully aware that a day after they returned to home, he would be gearing up to end the recess on his trial. Things were about to get kicked back into gear, and it had the media anxious. Ever since Priest called law enforcement out at his event, everyone was wondering what else he had in store.

Britain handed Priest the lighter, and he quickly flicked it, lighting his blunt. Reading the look on his face, Britain could tell he wasn't pleased by what she’d just proposed. He inhaled another hit from the blunt, exhaling the smoke from the corner of his mouth so it wouldn't hit Britain in the face before shaking his head. "I'll give you anything but permission to attend my trial," he stated firmly.

"Why not?" she asked.

Priest shrugged. "That's just not a place you should be." Honestly, Priest wanted to protect Britain. If she came to this trial, her life would be turned upside down. Priest loved the fact that Britain’s face was known to others, but he didn't need anyone knowing her name, and he for damn sure didn't want her getting tangled in his mess.

"Priest—"Britain tried to get another word out, but he shook his head, interjecting her.

"Brit, you said it yourself. You're gonna have to separate the Priest I show to the world from the Priest I show to you. You going to my trial would cause an interference. In that courtroom, a lot of shit gets discussed that doesn't even make it to the news or the paper," Priest explained as he bore into her eyes so she could understand every word he said. "If I let you into that court room, Gioia, you will fear me," he stated coldly, causing Britain to avert her eyes from his.

Priest was used to the intimidation he placed on Britain, but he would never settle for fear. "Okay," Britain agreed with a nod of her head. "I won't go."

Ashing his blunt on the tray, Priest nodded alongside her. "If I was willing to jeopardize you, then you would have a front row seat," he asserted. "But I'm not."

Although Priest had been nothing but open with Britain, he didn't want her to get involved in things that could affect her way of life. Once everyone caught wind of her, Priest knew they would try to concoct some wicked theory of how she was wrapped up in his shit.

"Keep telling me your story." Britain leaned in closer to him for a kiss. Priest blew the smoke into her mouth, and she inhaled. He eyed her as she blew the smoke out with an accomplished smile. Smoking wasn't Britain's thing, but Priest made it look so relaxing and zen that she couldn't help but want to indulge in it. Priest knew his influence on Britain, which was why he wasn't going to allow her to get too carried away. The last thing he wanted was for her to begin using marijuana as a crutch for every little inconvenience in her life just as he was. It was definitely a stress reliever, but sometimes the drug tapped into his brain and sparked some depression.

Priest licked his lips while putting out the blunt. "You really want to listen to that when we're a door away from the beach?" He raised a brow at Britain.

She nodded her head, clarifying that was what interested her at the moment. She got out of the bed, scurrying over to her purse. Priest watched as she extracted her journal he had grown familiar with. It had been a while since he had seen it. Britain was strict about anyone touching it, and she kept it close. He knew throughout the pages of the bonded book, there were hundreds of scattered points from different people’s stories. Britain had taken the time to number the pages manually, color code them, and create an ongoing table of contents. Flipping through the pages sporadically, Britain reached the chilling portion where she and Priest left off.

She took a deep breath before looking up from the journal. "We left off at?—"

"Jazzy, when I found out she was being molested," Priest recalled emptily. Each word made Britain feel as if she were being stoned. "I didn't really know what to do or who to tell. I put her to bed after I cleaned her up. That night, I remember just sitting up the entire night. I was fucked up. When my mom had my little sister, I promised myself to be her father ‘cause I knew dude was barely half a man, but my mom seemed to be head over heels in love with him. Jazzy getting hurt fucked me up. I was already an angry kid, but once Jazzy got brought into the mix, my anger channeled into rage. The next morning was a weekend I think, and I remember Jazzy asking me was I mad at her ‘cause she wet the bed. I didn't want to expose her to her harsh reality and tell her the true reason I was upset, so I told her no. I never opened up about this to anyone. It was always me and Jazzy's secret."

It was evident that Priest carried a lot of regret, and it was sprawled all over his face. His actions as a young adolescent were something he was ashamed of. He wished he would have handled things sooner—right then and there even.

"J'Ru's mother agreed to take Jazzy in along with me. Although she and J'Ru were nothing but welcoming, I couldn't help but feel like me and my sister were a burden. We were two extra mouths to feed and provide for, and it just didn't sit right with me. I ended up putting my pride aside to reach out to my mother, hoping she could spare a little something for the inconvenience me and Jazzy were to J'Ru's household." An empty chuckle aired out of Priest as he shook his head. Britain looked up from her journal and gazed at Priest. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and he ran his fingers through his tamed beard. "She told me she ain't have shit for me and Jazzy. We were on our own until further notice. She also said I should make use of being Leonard Justice's only son." Priest shrugged his shoulders.

"I was only fourteen and had the weight of the world on my shoulders. From then on, Jazzy became my priority, and I had to do whatever to not only make sure I was straight, but my little sister too. I counted the weeks. She left us for 22 whole weeks, almost six months. No phone calls, not even checking up on us by word of mouth. I knew Sylvia could abandon me— she'd done it before— but Jazzy, who she claimed was her pride and joy… for her to just leave Jazzy was a slap to the face. Within those 22 weeks, I made sure to get it by any means necessary. I took her advice and made use of the fact that I was Leonard’s son. The streets welcomed me with ease, and I started hustling. That wasn't the rise of who I am today. I wasn't moving shit, and I was getting played by niggas who always wanted credit for putting me on. I was only fourteen, not cut enough to be on the block alongside grown-ass men, but I did it anyways. Out of respect and gratitude, I always made sure to cut J'Ru's mother off top. She got half of everything I made. She never agreed with what I did and made sure to warn me that she wouldn't tolerate me influencing J'Ru to do the same, but she understood. She saw the fire within me, nurtured my sister and I as her own, and always made sure to tell me there was way more out there than the streets of New York."

"After five months of putting a dent on J'Ru's couch, Sylvia hooked me and Jazzy back in with her lies. Being as young as I was and only craving love and stability, I fell for all her shit just as easy as she broke her promises. She left Jazzy devastated a lot of the time, but me on the other hand, I was used to the shit. She found out I was selling drugs. Even though I really had no intentions of getting caught, the little boy in me wanted a look of disappointment from her. I wanted her to yell at me, pull on my ear, just do something to show she cared. She didn't. She celebrated. She said it was about time I started pulling some weight. I had and still have no hopes of ever mending my relationship with my mother. I could forgive her for the shit she put me through, but I could never forgive her for the shit she caused Jazzy to go through."

Priest had come to terms with the fact that he and Sylvia would never have a normal mother and son relationship. She was fucked up from her own childhood and young pregnancy with him. It didn't justify her being a horrible mother, but that was what gave Priest peace. There was nothing he could have done or could do at the moment to make her more of a mother. That was something she would have to take up with God on her own.

"Why do you give her the world then?" Britain asked, not understanding Priest's logic. It was so backward. Sylvia didn’t deserve a relationship or access to Priest. Leonard wasn’t the only one Priest believed should’ve been punished. She had done the unspeakable to him and Jazzy; yet he showered her with anything she asked for. Britain could recall Priest asking her if she could give the world to anyone, who it would be. With ease and without hesitation, Britain’s answer was her mother. Seven was the strongest woman Britain had ever known, and undoubtedly, she believed her mother deserved the world and then some. Priest answered the same way, telling Britain he would also give his mother the world, along with Jazzy. His childhood relationship with his mother didn't align with the fact that he believed she deserved the world. She was horrible, and she deserved nothing good from Priest.

Priest chuckled at the screwed up look on Britain's face. When she wasn't being vocally blunt, her face told it all. "Because, Gioia, sometimes you have to give the most undeserving people what they think they deserve. Contribute to their rise so each and every day they can regret ever treating you the way they did while they fall, slowly but surely."

In denial, Britain shook her head vigorously. Her mind was trying to process how Priest found his logic ethical and fair to himself. "So, you don't want the last laugh? Revenge? Nothing?" Her brows furrowed together as she tried her best to understand Priest's way of dealing with things.

Priest licked his lips before a convincing smile graced his face. "Vengeance is for the evil, Gioia. I'm not evil," he concluded with a shrug.

"You're Priest," she uttered, earning a nod of his head from him.

"Correct, and me being Priest, I do shit my own way."

Britain sighed. She knew she may have sounded a little crazy when she spoke on revenge, but for the life of her, she just couldn't understand why Priest was so damn nice to a woman who treated him and Jazzy horribly. Britain wouldn't even think twice about kissing a mother like Sylvia goodbye. "Where's Jazzy now?"

At the mention of his younger sister, Britain noticed a brightness spark through his usually dark orbs. His smile was much warmer and more inviting, which all was proof of how much he actually loved Jazzy.

"When she was eighteen, I told her to spin the globe," Priest chuckled lightly. "Ironically, it landed in Paris." He smirked, teasing Britain since he often heckled her by butchering her name and calling her Paris instead of Britain.

Britain shut her journal with a joking roll of her eyes. "Ha ha, very funny." Her words dripped in sarcasm. "But that was nice of you. The brotherly thing to do." She smirked at him.

Priest nodded. "I want the best for her, even if it doesn't involve me breathing down her neck all the time," he shrugged. "She's far more successful than I was or anyone I knew at nineteen. I'm glad I had the means to help her pursue her career and as stay far away from my mom as possible."

"I'm sure she gets home sick, Priest," Britain mentioned to him.

Priest shrugged. "She does, which is why she comes down from time to time. However, I'm more at ease when she's in Paris instead of here." Jazzy was truly Priest's world. He was willing to lay down his life for his little sister. She often begged to come back to New York, but when her mind was settled and homesick emotions weren't gnawing at her ankles, she understood why Priest wanted her away. New York was too corrupt and wild for his innocent little sister. Instead of watching her get chewed up and spit out, he preferred for her to live a life of bliss, one she chose.

"You're great," Britain complimented while wrapping her arms around him. "Like on a scale from cool to awesome, you've surpassed awesome."She lightened the mood with her playfulness.

Priest threw his head back in laughter. "Son, you're wild."

"Deadass," she mocked him, causing more laughter to pour from him.

"See, if I ain't know any better, I would think you was smacked instead of me." He shook his head with a light chuckle.

Britain shook her head. "Nope, this is what I call a natural high. Feed me enough sweets, and I could become a comedy special." He enjoyed her silly jokes and contagious laughter; it gave him a sense of light in his world, which was usually crowded with darkness.

He pressed his lips against hers. Britain could taste the weed he had just smoked, the smell and flavor embedded into his lips. Parting from the kiss, Britain's cheeks heated, and she looked away from him. Priest took a gentle hold of her face, steering her sight back into him. "No need to be shy about anything anymore," he assured her.

Britain nodded her head. A smile gravitated into her face, and Priest mirrored it. "You ready to enjoy life some more?" Priest raised a brow at her.

"I'm always ready," she teased as she got up from bed.

After an hour, Priest found himself eyeing Britain as she pulled a pair of denim shorts over her two piece hot pink bikini. "You doing that bathing suit well," he complimented her.

Britain smiled up at him. "Oh, this old thing?" She jokingly waved him off while doing a little spin for him.

Priest chuckled at her antics. "You good to go?" he inquired.

Britain nodded while slipping her bag over her shoulder. Priest noticed that she was bringing along her camera. He decided not to pay too much attention to it because he knew it would cause Britain to second guess it and leave it. He was glad she was tapping into another creative side of herself. She’d explained to him a bit about how sheltered she sometimes felt with “Humans of New York.” Hopefully, because she was embracing her photography more, she could find another stream of income off something she could grow to love.

Priest locked up the house before assisting Britain into the car. "So, where we heading?" Britain shot him a beaming smile once he got into the car next to her.

"Well," he sighed. "You love the water but can't swim, so I thought why not bring the yacht out." Britain had been talking his ear off about the beach but gave him fair warning that she wouldn't have a clue how to survive if he left her in the water alone. He thought it was hilarious. His initial plan before finding out she couldn't swim was just to enjoy some water activities for the day, but it soon changed to him sailing his yacht for the day.

Britain gasped dramatically. "Alright! Priest pulled out the big boy toys!"

Priest nodded in laughter. "Hopefully you don't get seasick and throw everything up like Kaymen’s weak ass," he chuckled, recalling the memory. It was Kaymen's first and last time ever getting on a watercraft. The boys fucked it up for him by letting J'Ru's crazy ass operate the boat. Britain laughed at the thought of Kaymen having a weak stomach. She knew Jadey probably clowned him for it. She was a known bully.

"Ya girl is tough. Okay?" She cockily flipped her hair over her shoulder.

The drive to the dock was filled with conversation and thousands of questions Britain wanted answered. She had never been on a yacht or any watercraft, but Priest seemed to frequently partake in those activities. He answered all her questions and eased all her worries.

Once they arrived at the dock, Priest and Britain remained hand in hand as they walked along the wooden structure. "Which one is yours?"

Priest smirked before glancing from Britain and pointing over to the mid-sized yacht that was currently being serviced to prepare to set sail on the waters. "Justice," he read the name scripted along the side of the yacht.

"Wow! Name your yacht after yourself. Very classy," she teased with a laugh.

Priest nudged her head lightly. "I ran out of smooth shit to call the things I owned," he admitted with a shameless shrug of his shoulders.

Britain turned around to face him with a smile on her face. "How about you call it Gioia? Justice is just soooo cliche," she groaned dramatically, causing him to laugh.

He nodded and mentally noted the suggestion. "How classy, huh?" he retorted with the same amount of sarcasm, causing them both to laugh.

After having a quick chat with the two-man crew, Priest and Britain sailed out on the water. They remained in the lower portion of the yacht until they reached steady waters.

The inside of the yacht was nicely furnished and comforted them both. When Britain saw the spread of fruit along with an array of other foods and drinks, she smiled. "Okay, you get some cool points, Priest," she praised him as she indulged in a green grape.

"How many?" Priest smirked as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Five is fair." She mirrored the smirk on his face. Priest nodded with a chuckle.

"I'll take what I can get." He rotated her in his arms so she could gaze up at him. Her hair was straightened and hung past her shoulders. Priest brushed a few strands from her face.

With a smile, she held a grape up to his lips to feed him. "I like putting things in your mouth," Britain snickered lightly as she fed him one more grape.

Priest chuckled. "I like tasting you," he openly admitted while craning down and pecking her lips.

They spent time on the lower portion of the yacht, giving each other unconditional affection. "Priest, they're gonna hear us," Britain whispered as he ground her on his lap.

Priest looked up at her with a light scoff. "So what?" He shrugged carelessly.

Britain lifted her head from the crook of Priest's neck. "I don't want them to," she whispered.

Priest nodded before leaning in to peck Britain's lips. He aided her with pulling off her shorts and slipping her bikini to the side. Slowly, he feathered his hand over her pussy, causing a hitched moan to escape her lips. Britain clenched her eyes shut, trying her best to refrain from making any loud noises.

Priest could tell Britain was far too nervous to engage in any foreplay. She feared that someone would walk in on them. Instead of putting her through an unpleasant and nerve-wracking experience, Priest got straight to the point.With his strong hands gripping her bare sides, Priest lowered Britain down on his thick shaft. Her wet pussy welcomed him with ease, wrapping around him effortlessly, seemingly a perfect fit for him.Before Britain could release a moan, Priest clamped his hand over her mouth. With a deep arch in her back, Britain rode Priest's dick as he muffled moan after moan with his hand.The look in Priest's eyes was filled with fulfillment. He seemed to be enjoying the challenge of keeping Britain silent. It made the sex better, filled with more passion and heat. With his free hand, he assisted Britain with maneuvering her hips to enhance the euphoric feeling of being deep inside of her.