a nigga dug his hands in her hair, ’cause a bitch didn’t have to worry ’bout no tracks ’n shit gettin’ yanked or his hand gettin’ stuck. “You keep suckin’ and wettin’ this dick the way you do, and you gonna have a nigga fall for your sexy ass.”
I lifted my head from his chest, and looked at him. I’m a bitch who knows how to suck a nigga’s dick, and fuck him until his head is spinnin’ and his knees are shakin’. And I knew, once a bitch got inside a nigga’s mind, she’d eventually get into his heart too.
“Maybe that’s what I want.”
“It’s all good,” he said, rubbin’ the side of my face. “I dig your style. You the type of chick a nigga like me needs in his life.”
I smiled.
Silence.
“So what does a beautiful woman like you do? You in school, workin’…what’s really good with you?” he asked, runnin’ his hands up and down the curves of my body, then cuppin’ my left titty with his big hand.
I looked up at him again, stared him dead in the eyes. “I’m a villainess,” I said.
He busted out laughin’. “Yo, you funny as hell,” he said, still laughin’. “Nah, seriously, how you making ya paper?”
For some reason, I wanted to spill my guts and tell his ass my whole life story. There was somethin’ ’bout him that made me wanna keep shit real with him. But I didn’t wanna spook the nigga. So I kept it cute. I shifted my body and took his dick back into my mouth until it bricked up again, slobbered all over it, lapped his hairy balls with my tongue, then climbed back up on top of him. I slid down on his dick and did what I do best…welcomed him into the Kat Trap.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Almost a month had passed since I saw my moms or even spoke to her ass, but the shit Chanel had told me ’bout her bein’ knocked the fuck up was still floatin’ around in a bitch’s head. And it was fuckin’ with me. I wanted, needed, to know what was really good with her ass. But I also wasn’t beat to call her. Call it pride. Call it stubbornness. Call it whatever the fuck you want. Bottom line, I wasn’t callin’ her. But I called Tamia’s ho ass instead.
“Hello?”
“Bitch,” I snapped, “don’t front like you don’t know who the fuck it is. I know ya ass saw my number come up.”
“Humph,” she grunted, suckin’ her teeth. “Whatever.”
I could tell the bitch was still salty, like I gave a fuck. I kept on pressin’. “What’s good with ya trick ass?” I asked.
“Not a damn thing, bitch. Now what you want ’cause I know this ain’t no fuckin’ social call.”
I laughed. “Ho, I know ya ass ain’t still heated.”
She sucked her teeth. “The fuck I ain’t. Bitch, that was some real foul shit you pulled at Chanel’s, tryna come at my neck all sideways ’n shit. On some real shit, I ain’t really feelin’ ya ass right now, Kat.”
“Bitch, get over ya’self,” I snapped. “Ain’t shit changed, ho. You still my bitch. I just wanted to know what was really good with ya ass.”
“Well, you didn’t have to try ’n play me out ’n shit. You coulda came at me differently.”
I sighed. “Tamia, please…shoulda, coulda, woulda. Since when ya ass get all sensitive ’n shit? I heard some shit, and I asked ya silly-ass about it. You said the shit wasn’t true, so why the fuck is you still stressin’ over it? But on some real shit, I don’t give a fuck ’bout ya fuckin’ attitude. Like I said, you still my bitch. But, you actin’ like you wanna get it in or some shit. And you already know what it is. So, don’t do it.”
“No, bitch,” she snapped.
I took a deep, slow breath. “Oh, so you really tryna get it in over some dumb shit. Bitch, I will push ya muthafuckin’ wig back, and you know this. On some real shit, don’t go there. I can’t believe you really tryna bring it when you know I will straight rock ya ass.” I bust out laughin’. “Bitch, you done really let all that nut up in ya guts go to ya fuckin’ knotty-ass head, for real.”
“You know what, Kat, I am so fuckin’ sick of you, bitch. Real talk. Chanel ’n them might let ya ass come at them any kinda way, but—”
“Bitch, what the fuck Chanel ’n them got to do with this?”
“—I ain’t the one. Fuck what ya heard,” she continued. “I’ma grown-ass woman and how you tried to get at me was on some real shady shit.” Oh my God, I was so ready to blast this ho’s ass. I bit down on my bottom lip and let her continue. “Ever since you left Brooklyn you really been on some extra shit, and I ain’t feelin’ it. Instead of clockin’ what the fuck I do, you need to worry ’bout ya own shit. You act like you better than somebody; like you can’t be touched. Bitch, you bleed like I bleed. You shit like I shit. You ain’t the baddest bitch around, be clear. ’Cause you can get it, too.”
“Wow, I musta really hit a nerve.”
“Nah, bitch, you ain’t hit shit. I just don’t ’preciate how you tried to shine on me. That shit was jacked the fuck up.”
“Okay, you already said that.”
“And I’ma say it a thousand more times if I want, and
Deep breath.
Silence.
“Are you done?” I finally asked, really tryna hold my tongue. “’Cause you do know, bitch, I really don’t give a fuck. You do know this. But if you need to get ya shit off, then do you.” Yeah, she was heated, but no matter how much shit she popped, I knew this ho didn’t really want it.
“Fuck you, Kat. I hate ya ugly ass.”
I laughed. “Bitch, is there anything else you gotta say, that you wanna say, that you think you need to say? ’Cause I ain’t call ya ass for this.”
“Well, what the fuck you call for, then?”
“What’s the name of that doctor’s office Tameka works at?”
“I don’t know,” she said. But I could tell the bitch was lyin’.
“Well, let me get her number so I can ask her myself.”
“You know I don’t give out nobody’s numbers ’n shit.”
“Humph. Well, call her and give her mine ’cause I need to speak to her.”
“Why, you pregnant or something?”
“No, bitch, I ain’t pregnant. But, I heard my moms was up in that piece. So, I need to see what’s good.”
“Well, then, why the fuck you don’t call ya moms and ask her?”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously, bitch, I’m not speakin’ to her. Duh, now follow the yellow brick road and call ya damn sista, and tell her to call me.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Since we were addressin’ shit and the bitch was already vexed with me, I figured I might as well keep shit goin’. “By the way, what’s good with them E’s?”
“What?” she asked, soundin’ shocked. “E’s? What you talkin’ ’bout?”
I sighed, suckin’ my teeth. “I’m talkin’ ’bout
“Who told you that?”
“Is it true?” I asked, iggin’ her ass. I hated when bitches asked who told someone somethin’ ’bout them. I’m like, who the fuck cares who said it; either the shit’s true or it isn’t.
“I do my thing from time to time,” she said. “Why?”
I shook my head. A part of me had hoped the shit wasn’t true; that hatin-ass bitches and niggas were just talkin’. But from the looks of things, e’erything Naheem said was true. “’Cause the streets is talkin’,” I stated, soundin’ real disgusted. “But on some real shit, I wasn’t tryna believe it.”
