Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang (24 page)

I laugh. “Ya man? The nigga gotta restrainin’ order against ya dumb-ass, so how da fuck is that ya man? Define that for me?”

“Bitch,” she snaps, raisin’ the volume, “I don’t have to define shit for you. Stay the fuck away from him or we gonna have some problems.”

Chanel gasps, coverin’ ’er mouth wit’ ’er hand.

I keep laughin’. “Sugah, you’se a real clown thinkin’ you standin’ here pumpin’ fear in a bitch like me wit’ that yip-yap. What you betta do is go do ya homework. Or end up flatlined.”

“No, you better go do yours. That nigga is usin’ you. You don’t know the first thing about loving a man like Alex. I’m the only woman he’ll ever love. He’s never going to love you, like he loves me.”

I laugh. “Med check, med check. Bitch, did you just escape from da Looney bin or sum shit? Get da fuck away from me. That nigga don’t give a fuck ’bout ya trick-ass.”

A cute brown-skinned chick wit’ shoulder-length locks hurries ova to us from the back area. “Ramona, you need to take that mess on up outta here. You know Pasha ain’t playin’ this shit up in here. If you got beef, take that shit outside.”

“Oh, no, we cool, Felecia. She and I were just having a friendly chat. I’ve finished schooling her so I’m out.”

“
Bitch
,” I snap, tossin’ the magazine ova at Chanel, “don’t get it fucked up.” I stand up. “You ain’t schooled me on shit. I don’t know how you Jersey bitches do it, but be clear. I will rock ya muthafuckin’ sockets, so don’t let the wears ’n the pretty face fool you. I asked you nicely to bounce up outta my space da first time. And you still wanna stand here yippty-yappin’. So, now I’m fuckin’ tellin’ you, step da fuck on. Or step outside to get ya ass
beat. Take ya pick. You know what.”—I pull out my phone, then press open my call history—“Since you wanna school a bitch, let me call
ya man
, right now, and school ’em on how’ta eat my pussy ’n ass out. ’Cause guess what, bitch? I’ma fuck da muhfucka tonight and tomorrow night, too. Stupid bitch!”

As soon as Alex picks up, I put ’im on speaker. “Yo, what’s good, Beautiful?”

“Shit. Chillin’. I’m at this hair spot ova in Orange wit’ Chanel and ya BM’s up in here poppin’ a buncha ying-yang?”

“My
BM?
Yo, what you talkin’ ’bout? I told you, I ain’t got no baby momma.”

I cut my eye ova at this Ramona bitch. “Well, obviously this bitch here didn’t get da memo. So you need’a remind this ho—”

“Yo, ma, who you talkin’ ’bout?”

“This silly-ass Spanish ho who’s ’bout to get beat da fuck up.”

“Bitch,” she says, walkin’ up on me. “You ain’t gonna beat shit. But, if I catch you near my man again—”

Before she can get the rest of her words out, I run up on ’er and bash the bitch in ’er muthafuckin’ face.

“
OHMIIIIIGOD,”
C
HANEL SAYS, PASSIN’ ME THE BLUNT, CRUISIN’
down Old Short Hills Road toward the Mall at Short Hills. After that incident back at the salon, a bitch needs to do a lil’ shoppin’, then get home and play in my pussy. Poppin’ that ho in ’er snot box got my snatch hot. “I’m so glad you shut that ho up. Took ya ass long enough. I was ’bout ready to bring it to ’er bubble head my damn self. But you delivered, boo. Broke that ho’s nose lovely.”

I open ’n close my swollen hand. “I think I sprained my hand fuckin’ wit’ that silly bitch.”

“Well, da ho got what she deserved.”

“I swear I didn’t wanna have’ta go there, but that ho kept tryna serve it up. So I had’a take ’er down.” After I hit that bitch in ’er mouth, she fell backward onto the counter and I pounced on that ass, splittin’ the side’a ’er face wit’ my 18-karat gold ’n platinum diamond and emerald Jean Schlumberger Pave X ring. It took Chanel and two other chicks to pull me off’a ’er. And the bitch was still poppin’ shit. Talkin’ ’bout how shit ain’t ova; that she’s gonna fuck me up the next time she sees me; just talkin’ a buncha off the wall shit that don’t mean me no neva mind. “I don’t know what da fuck is in da air. Seems like e’erywhere I turn some bitch is tryna serve me da extras.”

“Sounds like you a walkin’ magnet for drama these days.”

“Well’a bitch is tired. All I wanna do is fuckin’ chill; that’s it.”

“I hear you. So what da fuck was her deal?”

“Fuck if I know. Some disgruntled bitch Allstar”—Chanel’s nickname for Alex—“used to fuck wit’. He dumped ’er. Then da trick-nasty ho got all desperate and tried pinnin’ a brat on ’im. But da shit backfired on ’er ass, and came back not his.”

She cuts ’er eye ova at me. “You sure it ain’t his?”

“He said it’s not. Da nigga has no reason to lie to me. But, on some real shit, I don’t give’a fuck if it is or not. He’s not my man.”

“Mmmph, not yet,” she mumbles.

“Ho, I heard that. You actually think I’m tryna fuck wit’ a nigga who has hoes tryna get at me on some dumb shit? When you know me to be fightin’ a bitch ova some dick?”

She shakes ’er head. “I haven’t.”

“Exaaactly. And I’m tryna keep it like that.”

“I hear you. So how da fuck da bitch connect you to AllStar?” I tell ’er how she came up on ’im at the club, grindin’ ’er pussy all up on the back of ’im; how they went at it, and I walked off. “Mmmph. So, what’s up now, you axin’ da nigga?”

“Shit, after this, I need to.” I take another hit off the blunt, then pass it back to ’er. I pull out my cell as soon as it starts to ring. “Hol’ up…speakin’ of da nigga, this’s ’im now. Wassup?”

“Yo, what da fuck happened? All I heard was a buncha screamin’ ’n scufflin’ ’n shit, then ya phone went dead. Then, when I tried callin’ you back, it kept goin’ into ya voicemail.”

“What happened was ya bitch—”

“Yo, that’s not my bitch, so stop sayin’ that shit.”

“Whateva. I don’t give a fuck who she was to you. All I know is da bitch stepped to me tryin’ it on my time, poppin’ a buncha shit and I cracked ’er muthafuckin’ nose open.”

“How da fuck she know who you was?”

“From da club.”

“
Da club?
From last week?”

I suck my teeth, feelin’ myself gettin’ aggravated wit’ this nigga. “Yeah, muhfucka, what otha club were we eva at together?”

“Yo, why you snappin’ on me?”

“Muhfucka, let me tell you sumthin’. I’m not wit’ bitches comin’ at me ’bout no muthafuckin’ nigga; especially one I ain’t fuckin’ on a regular, okay? And, right now, that whole situation gotta bitch real hot.”

“I feel you. But you actin’ like I caused da shit. I haven’t fucked wit’ that crazy bitch or seen ’er in over a year.”

“Whateva. All I know, I betta not catch that bitch again.”

“Yo, listen, fuck that bird. You aiight?”

“Yeah, I’m good, nigga. A bitch like me is gonna always be aiight. All that lil’ shit did is get my pussy wet.”

“Oh, word? You want me to come through and handle that for you?”

“Unless you comin’ through wit’ that bitch’s address, no thank you.”

“Damn, you’d rather have that crazy ho’s address instead of gettin’ a dose’a Daddy’s dick?”

“Nigga, fuck all that daddy shit. I want that bitch’s address.”

He lowers his voice. “And Daddy want some more’a that juicy pussy.”

“Nigga, get real. You ain’t my fuckin’ daddy.” Chanel cuts ’er eyes ova at me. I ig the ho.

“Yeah, aiight. Not yet.”

“Not eva, muhfucka.”

He laughs. “Yo, I can tell you fired up. And I ain’t tryna beef wit’ you, ma. I’m gettin’ ready to scoop my moms up and take ’er out to eat, so I’m hit you up later.”

“Bye, nigga. Have fun,” I tell ’em, takin’ the blunt from Chanel. I take two long pulls, then toss it outta the window. “And I still want that ho’s address.”

He laughs, but I’m dead-ass. I’m ready to stomp that bitch’s skull in for even thinkin’ she could step to me and bring it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Silly of me…silly of you…gotta muhfucka all up in my space… talkin’ ’bout he wanna change…bitch knows what she gotta do…but still lettin’ da nigga hit da drawz…ain’t tryna catch feelin’s though…nigga don’t know…fuck me ova…bitch’ll blow off ya muthafuckin’ ballz…

T
his nigga Alex and me are layin’ in bed; both starin’ up at the ceilin’ sweaty and breathin’ heavy, passin’ a blunt ’n back forth. We’ve been kinda in this zone for almost thirty minutes or so. I told myself I wasn’t gonna fuck ’im again, but I haven’t been able to keep the muhfucka outta my dome, so when he showed up here lookin’ ’n smellin’ all good, a bitch decided to fuck ’im, again—this time for the last time.

You can’t get all caught up in this nigga, Kat.

Trust, I’m not. I already know what it is.

Bitch, it ain’t like you gotta line of dick beatin’ down ya door or pussy.

Meshell Ndegeocello’s playin’. I turn my head toward the nightstand, glance at the clock. This nigga’s been here laid up in my bed for over four hours, and we’ve fucked at least six different times. I can’t front. A bitch’s well-fucked.

I can’t lie. Lyin’ here wit’ this muhfucka feels…different. He’s
the first nigga since Grant who I’ve actually chilled wit’. But I ain’t dumb wit’ it. I already know what it is. I’m usin’ the nigga, and I’m sure the nigga’s usin’ me. I take another pull from the blunt, then pass it back to ’im. I shift my body to face ’im. Take in his smooth, chiseled body, gaze at his dark nipples, then allow my eyes to travel down to the ripples of muscle that become his stomach. “This nigga’s trouble,” I keep tellin’ myself. “You have no business fuckin’ wit’ his ass.”

But e’ery bitch needs a bad boy rockin’ ’er bed e’ery now ’n then.

Bitch, fuck this nigga…get yours, and go!

You said you already know what it is, so what da fuck you pressin’ it for. Keep it cute, ho…fuck ’n go!

And while ya at it…you might as well taste da nigga’s dick; spin da muhfuckas top. Let ’im know how a real bitch does it!

Meshell’s “Loyalty” starts playin’. I close my eyes. Slowly bob my head to the lyrics….
Told her daughter to beware…both secrets and dreams you should never share…

“Yo,” he says, disruptin’ my private moment, “what you over there thinkin’ ’bout?” He hands me the blunt.

I take it, hit it hard; hold the shit in my lungs, then blow out a gush of smoke. I turn to look at ’im. “I’m tryna decide,” I tell ’im, raisin’ up and takin’ his dick in my hand, “if a bitch wanna suck down on this black dick, or not.”

He grins. “Oh word? That’s wassup. I was wonderin’ when you were gonna bless a nigga wit’ some’a that headwork.”

I smirk. “You ain’t ready for me,” I tease.

He laughs. “Yeah, aiight. Try me.”

My eyes hungrily rove e’ery inch of this nigga’s sculpted body again. My mouth waters. This nigga has a bitch’s inside still shakin’. My pussy aches, still wet from all the fuckin’ we did. Still I wanna fuck ’im sum more, before I toss his ass out.

Bitch, you need’a dead this shit. You’d end up killin’ a muhfucka like this!

I scoot down some, then take ’his soft dick in my hand and gently stroke it, placin’ gentle kisses all over it. I glance up at ’im. He’s starin’ down at me all hazy-eyed ’n shit. His dick starts to thicken.

“What, you wanna bitch to tell you how much she loves this strong, black dick?” I lick it.

“Yeah, baby…you love this dick?”

I don’t answer. “You wanna bitch to tell you how she loves the way this big black dick tastes; the way it feels in a bitch’s hands ’n throat?” I twirl my tongue ’round the head, flickin’ my tongue ova it. It starts to stretch and thicken.

He moans, pulls in his bottom lips. “Yeah, baby…”

I lick the head, again, like an ice cream cone; along the shaft, ’round the sides, then ova the top. “Give me sum’a that sticky dick juice, muhfucka…you wanna nut in a bitch’s mouth?”

“Yeah, baby…suck Daddy’s long, black dick…you know you been wantin’ this big dick…why you been frontin’ on me, ma… aaah shiiiit…”

I ignore the nigga, increasin’ the suction ’round the head.
Cocky muhfucka!
I massage his balls, remove his cock from my mouth, then spit on it.

“Damn, nice, big, pretty lips…”—I continue slurping and sucking and gulping him—“…slap them lips with it, baby…yeah, like that…bounce that shit on ya wet tongue…suck that cock…take it all the way down in ya throat…suck on that muthafucka…”

I slide my right hand between my thighs and massage the front of my pussy, lightly brushin’ my clit while gobblin’ up this muhfucka’s cock. I spit on it. Suck it real nasty-like, smackin’ my face, lips and tongue wit’ it; jackin’ it while nibblin’ ’n lickin’ and
suckin’ on his balls. Then bury his dick in my warm mouth and slow suck the muhfucka, balls deep.

“Aaaaaaaah, fuck man…aaaaaah, shit…gotdaaaamn…”

I spit on it again, stroke it, squeeze his balls, then run his dick back down in my throat, lappin’ at his balls. Hold the head in my throat, workin’ this fat, juicy muhfucka ova wit’ my long tongue while strokin’ my pussy.

“Oh, daaaamn…I like that…shiiiiiiit…ooooh, oooooh….that’s right, baby…spit all over that shit. You can do whatever u want wit’ it… this is your dick, baby…Suck on them balls for me.”

This is your dick, baby…
I roll my eyes up in my head.
Yeah, right, nigga! How many otha bitches you run that shit to?

When I’ve given this nigga all I’m gonna give ’em, I pull his dick from outta my throat, then get outta bed.

He looks up, all wide-eyed ’n crazy. “Yo, why you stop?”

I open up a drawer, pull out a silk purple teddy, then shimmy into it. “It’s time for you to go,” I tell ’em ova my shoulder as I’m slippin’ its straps over my shoulders.

“Say what? You fuckin’ wit’ me, right?”

I stare at ’im, tilt my head. “Hell, no, I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ you, muhfucka. Get ya shit on and bounce.”

He blinks. I walk ova to his clothes piled up in the middle of the floor, tossin’ ’im his boxers. “Let’s go, nigga.”

He’s still sittin’ here, starin’ at me. I stare back, placin’ my hands up on my hips. He sucks his teeth, snatches ’em from off the bed, then gets outta the bed. His dick is on rock. I can tell the nigga’s heated. But I don’t give a fuck. He slips on his boxers. His dick is pokin’ outta the slit. I almost laugh.