The Rage(16)

Nodding once, she smiles and continues to the door and in she goes without a second look. What the fuck? Never had that shit happen to me before.

I don’t know if she just doesn’t give a shit, or if she sees it as I don’t belong to her, and she doesn’t belong to me, so why mess with something that’s not defined between us. I’m used to bitches giving attitude and watch them fight each other for whatever man they want, even just for a night, but Lala seems like she could give a fuck either way.

“You want her to watch you fuck me? You know I don’t share, but I don’t mind an audience, if that’s what you want,” Red giggles, running her hand down my stomach into the waist of my jeans, going right for my dick.

“Off, Red.” She just giggles and keeps at it. “Bitch, I ain’t fuckin’ with you so go find someone else’s dick to ride.”

She pouts her lips she bats her lashes, knowing that shit doesn’t fucking work for me. Besides, who the fuck in their right mind would pick Red over Lala. I’m not even fucking Lala, but I would pick lying next to her than fucking Red any day. I move Red to the side, making my way to my bedroom door where my beautiful girl is.

As I walk into my room, there she sits in the bed, just like I told her to. Sitting up against the wall, she’s wearing my white Zeppelin t-shirt. It’s old, stained, and faded, but that shit looks good on her. Her hair is this big messy pile on her head, face happy and smiling up at me.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I go about taking off my boots, wondering why she isn’t giving me shit over Red yet. I mean, how the fuck do I get lucky enough to have a woman in my bed, not arguing over what happened in the hallway? Old lady or not, women love to bitch and pick fights. They’ll bitch and fight about any goddamn thing.

I take my cut off, setting it on the bed, “You good, babe?”

Tearing her eyes from the TV, she states, “Yeah. I’m good,” then moves her eyes right back to the TV.

“Imma take a shower.” She nods and starts flipping through the channels again. I am not fucking used to this shit.

I shower quickly and throw on some sweats and a shirt. Going back into the room, Lala’s got the lights turned off, wrapped up in my blankets. She looks like she belongs there. I stand there ‘til she finally looks up at me.

“Problem?” Fuck yeah there’s a problem. Part of me knows I shouldn’t sleep in that bed with her. That shit will not be good for either of us.

A bigger, more dominant part of me wants nothing more than to get in there with her and seduce the shit out of her, making her putty in my hands. I want to fuck her stupid. Call me a pig, but having my dick inside of her is all I can think about.

Fuck it. Let’s see where the night takes us, but before I can make it to the bed, there’s a knock on the door.

“What?” I holler. I swear to God, if it’s one of my brothers, I’ll beat him to death.

“Lailah in there?” Lil calls through the door. God fucking hates me.

“Lala!” I correct her. She’s not Lailah here. She’s Lala. My Lala.

“Fine. Lala in there? That better, asshole?” Lil counters back through the door.

“What’s up, Lil?” Lala answers.

Before I go to open the door instead of having a shouting match through it, Lil throws it open, Peaches at her side. Both girls are holding giant ass spoons with shit-eatin’ grins on their faces. Fucking trouble, that’s what they are.

“Got some ice cream… you want?”

Lala throws the blankets back and jumps out of the bed like it’s on fire, and she’s only wearing underwear under her t-shirt. Those long legs are going to kill me. Goddamn Lil for interrupting me. Right now I could be coaxing those long legs around my head.

“Hell yes,” she says to Lil.

“You forgettin’ somethin’, Lala?” I hope she isn’t thinking she’s going to walk out my door looking like that. Looking over her shoulder at me, she lifts an eyebrow. Lil catches on and gives me a glare.

“Shut up Rampage. She’s not yours, so don’t start that shit!” Fucking Lil. Off Lala goes, in my t-shirt and not a damn thing else.

Lying in bed, I toss and turn, kicking blankets off the bed, getting anxious. Lala hasn’t come back yet. I went to the kitchen after she left, only to be kicked the fuck out. Apparently they needed to have girl talk. Fucking women.

So here I am, waiting impatiently. I’m thinking about all of my brothers out there, eye fucking the shit out of her, thinking about them seeing her in just a t-shirt pisses me the fuck off and I hate it. All I wanna do is drag that girl back in here and back into my bed, away from everyone’s eyes but mine.

I’m about to go out there and get her when the door opens quietly. In she walks and right to the bed. Climbing in, she gets close to me, but doesn’t touch me. Fuck that shit.

I have no fight left in me. Wrapping a hand around her arm, I tug her to me, and she comes willingly. I’m done playing this shit like I don’t want to put my hands all over her. Don’t give a fuck if she knows it or not.

Pulling her to my side, she curls her arms into herself and cuddles up against my side. Wrapping a leg around mine, she scoots as close as she can get while I slide my arm under her to lay her closer against me. This is so much better. For tonight, all this sweetness belongs to me. I wait, because for some sad fucking reason, this shit is too good to fuck with. It’s too good to stop for sex. I just want to be close to her, no matter what I have to do to be there.





Lala

It’s been a very long time since I have slept with a man, sexually, or just to sleep. All night, Rampage has kept himself close to me, always touching some part of my body. No matter how far I roll away from him, he ends up next to me – damn near on top of me.

With his head laying on my stomach, I take the time to let my eyes roam his thick, wide back and long, heavy arms. So far, I’ve only seen two tattoos. One is the insignia that sits in the middle of their vests on his chest. The second is a mean ass dragon, sitting between his shoulder blades. Dark and foreboding, it looks like it’s slithering around his muscles when he moves.

His skin is soft, smooth and tanned. I wouldn’t call him beautiful, but he does have some beautiful features. Overall, I would say that he is all man, and all kinds of sexy.

He’s so much bigger than me, yet I don’t feel powerless like I do with Ryan. Ryan isn’t a whole lot bigger than me, but what little height and weight he has on me, he uses to his advantage. Rampage may be large and intimidating, but he doesn’t use it against me. He doesn’t use all that power in his body to scare or intimidate me.

Thinking about Ryan, I remember I have no clothes for the weekend and I need to call in to work. My boss won’t like it, but I’m the best he’s got so he’ll deal, but I still need clothes, along with other personal stuff. All of my stuff is at my place and I can’t go back with him there. My only option is going by the mall.

Looking down at Rampage, I try to find a way to move him without waking him. I slowly and gently lift his head as I shimmy out from under him. Placing his head back on the bed, I scoot off slowly and head for the bathroom, being as quiet as possible. I’m not looking forward to going to the mall. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy shopping, I just don’t enjoy the crowds. They make me anxious and uncomfortable.

Making my way through the stores, I pick out clothes for hot and cold weather, along with new bras and panties. I buy three pairs of comfy boyfriend sweats and matching sweatshirts because Victoria’s Secret was having a huge sale. A pair of black chucks, boots, and some thong sandals complete my clothes shopping for the day.

I stop by the drug store for some girlie products; shampoo, conditioner, hairbrush… the whole lot. I barely wear makeup, so I have what I need in my purse. All in all, I spend a little over four hundred dollars. I never spend that kind of money on myself, putting every measly extra cent I make into my savings, but I may not be able to go back to my place for any of my stuff for a while. I’m not sure where I’m taking my new stuff, but at least I’ve got it.

I’m pretty resourceful when it comes to getting by. When I was fifteen, something happened that put my mother on the road to recovery, wanting to piece her life back together. She had kicked the drugs and stopped sleeping around. Quitting the drugs was really hard on her, but she stuck with it, investing all her time in me and for once in my life, making me a priority. I can honestly say that even though she was suffering, she tried her best to hide it from me, and gave me some of the happiest times of my life, no matter how little time it was.

Four months into her sobriety, she was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. It’s poetic justice, really. She died by the thing that had already taken so many years of her life away from her. At first I was numb. Then I was mad. Over time, I became thankful that she no longer had to fight her battle. She had finally found some peace.

So at the age of 15, I was left alone, hanging out at libraries through the day, teaching myself what I could since I couldn’t attend school. I found shelters on occasion, acting like I belonged to people staying there, but I couldn’t stay for long, afraid of getting caught and sent into foster care, so I moved from one place to the next, no one the wiser. I slept when and where I could. I knew how to make myself invisible and stay out of any trouble that could come my way. My mom had some money put away when she died, so I used that sparingly, figuring out fairly quickly how to make it last. I was lucky enough to land a job after I turned 16, saving every dime I made, and I’ve been taking care of myself ever since.