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Authors: Erick Gray

Love and a Gangsta (4 page)

BOOK: Love and a Gangsta
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“You waited over fourteen hundred and sixty days, another forty minutes won’t hurt, hon.”
“Tell that to my dick.”
Hearing America chuckling made me even hornier. I wanted to grab her right here and end the drought but I glanced out the window and my attention was averted to NYC. We crossed the New York State Thruway Bridge and hit 87 south. Driving through the Bronx, the city seemed illuminated like a Christmas tree and looked alive. Lots of new cars were on the road. There were different models and makes of BMW’s Mercedes, Lexus and SUV’s. I used to push a black Lexus IS 300. I loved that car. I left it to my cousin, Greasy. I haven’t heard from him in two years.
“I can’t believe I’m finally home, baby,” I said with a broad grin.
Joanna woke up as we crossed the Triboro Bridge; she yawned and peered out the window.
“Damn!” She said. “We home already…?”
“We’re on the Grand Central, girl,” America said.
“I know y’all muthafuckas were probably doing the nasty while my tired- ass was napping. I’m gonna roll down this freaking window. I ain’t trying to smell fish all the way back home,” she said.
“Joanna shut up. You always got sump’n stupid to say,” America replied.
“Um okay, and you expect me to believe that. Omar ain’t tryin’ to talk, he tryin’ to get busy,” she countered. I smiled.
“See, he told on himself. Just don’t be making me a Godmother anytime too soon.”
Minutes later, we were in Jamaica, Queens, driving down the Van Wyck Expressway. I noticed the new Air Train in between the expressway. America told me that it’s been up for two years and it took passengers from the Queens station, to JFK airport.
It was a quarter past nine when we dropped Joanna off at her crib on
Linden Blvd. It was a nice two level split home, with a backyard.
“Damn, Joanna, you living like this now,” I said.
“Baby, this is all me, all day,” she replied, getting out of the car.
I was impressed. It was still in Jamaica, but it looked respectable. I knew she was still getting some of her pops drug money. Even though her pops, Montana had been locked up for a minute. Joanna dated only get-money niggas, who were able to help maintain her lavish lifestyle. America made sure Joanna got inside safely and then drove off.
We drove to America’s new place. She had a two-bedroom apartment on Merrick Blvd, and 109th Avenue. She had a new car, a new place, and a nice paying job working for Verizon Wireless and clocking fourteen fifty an hour. She was back in school, and making noise with her music. I even heard she put out a demo CD with six tracks. It was doing okay in the streets.
My baby definitely had stepped her game up. She knew some nigga with a studio in his basement and he looked out for her. But I knew sometimes a nigga ain’t trying to look out for a bitch unless he trying to get some. I trust my shorty, and was convinced it was only business.
I had my seat reclined, and observed my past. We made our way down Linden Blvd, I tried to look for familiar faces and saw that they were putting up a lot of two family homes. It was still home to me and still my hood. We drove by some of my old spots and saw the bodega were still there.
“You heard from Omega lately?” I asked.
“Not in months.”
I wanted to link up with him and find out what my crew been doing. Rahmel was concerned and wanted me to check on him. I had heard Omega was deep in the game. His name rang like bells and his rep was fierce around the way.
I followed America into her fourth floor apartment and was impressed by its décor and style. It was spacious, with ceiling fan and large window looking out on the city. A Dell 50-inch HD Plasma TV sat near a window, speakers were in every corner of the room, top with Nakimichi surround sound made me feel like you were at a movie theater. Parquet floors shimmered, and a large Isfahan area rug at the foot of a swanky leather sofa. Next to the kitchen chairs of contemporary oak and round table with a bouquet of red
roses adorned her dining room set.
“Damn, baby, are you hustling?” I joked.
“This is yours too, baby,” she said, walking up to me and wrapping her arms around me. “Welcome home.” she firmly planted a kiss on my lips.
“I saved some of the money you left me before you got locked up,” she whispered.
“The fifty-thousand you stashed, I saved it and got us this place. I wanted you to come back home to something better. I didn’t want you going back to South Road; you need a change of scenery, boo. And this is a new start for us and a family.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just promise never to leave me again. Be with me. I got you, baby. I got you. We can do this together. I want you by my side forever,” she said.
We gazed into each other’s eyes. Her eyes pleaded for me to leave the streets. She didn’t say it directly, but I knew where this was going.
“I love you so much, Omar. I can’t lose you again. I just couldn’t bear it.”
Her eyes became glossy, filled with emotions. We embraced. Her angelic features and soft touch made me commit.
“I promise I will never leave you again. I’m over the game, America. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I got too much talent to be wasting my life away on the streets. I fucked up once, and I ain’t fucking up again. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know where I would be right now. So you know what… Let’s be a family and get married.”
“Baby, are you…?
“I want you in my life forever.”
She hugged me tight and confessed her love for me again. Her arms were wrapped tightly around me and she had tears trickling down her cheeks.
“I got a surprise for you.”
“Pussy,” I joked.
“No silly. Come here,” she laughed grabbing my hand.
America led me into the second bedroom. I walked inside and got
choked up. What she was doing for me is the epitome of what love should be. On the bed, she had dozens of gear sprawled out, Armani suits and dress shirts. At the end of the bed were Gucci and Kenneth Cole shoes.
“You is too much, baby. I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“My man, you represent me, and I represent you. We’re a reflection of each other, and if I’m looking right, my man… No my husband is going to be right too.”
We were wrapped in each other’s arm, nestled together like an unborn in their mother’s wound. I kissed her fervently. She was everything to me, and I wasn’t trying to let her go.
After several minutes of endless affection, I pulled myself away from her and said, “Baby, I need a shower. I smell like that fucking prison. I want it off me. I ain’t trying to be up on you an smelling like this.”
“I understand, baby. Everything you need is in the bathroom. Go do you and I’ll freshen up out here.”
Her eyes stared into mines, reflecting love. She disappeared into the next bedroom and I walked into the bathroom. I quickly stripped away the unpleasant clothes that I had on, and was butt naked in her rose-pink bathroom. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror over the sink. I had to admire myself. My physique was breathtaking. After four years of lifting weights with Rahmel and his peoples, I had a eight-pack, bulging biceps, defined triceps, and my back was muscular broad. I had one tattoo and that was of my girl’s name, it was embedded into my right arm in bold italic scribble.
I reflected on my troubled life as I peered at my image. I was a thug, making at least a grand a day selling crack. I used to push guns. I shot people, even killed a man, unbeknownst to America. I drank, partied like the end of the world was coming, and cheated on my boo with countless of women. And yet through my wild ways, America still stood by me, treating me like her man. While the rest of the world saw me as a threat to society, she stuck with me. When I got dragged out my mama’s crib by half dozen cops, America cursed them out like she was the one who birth me.
She was by my side when I caught a knife to my side because of beefing over a corner. She was in the hospital everyday, praying, asking God
to heal me, and nurturing me back to health. She sat through my trial with me, everyday encouraging me to be strong and pray. When I got sentenced, she promised no matter how far they sent me she’d always write and visit.
I hated myself for putting that woman through so much. She didn’t deserve it. I didn’t want to be the same man I was four years ago. I wanted to be different and become better for her.
Rahmel coached me. He knew how I was feeling. When I first got jailed, all I could think about was America, wondering if she’d be faithful while I was on the inside. I was the only man she’d ever been with, and when you’re alone in your cell, you think about all kinds of craziness.
I did her wrong, because I cheated on her with women that lusted after me since I was fourteen. And some I even had unprotected sex with, risking my life and hers. I didn’t care. It was always about me, and with Omega, I felt invincible.
I continued looking at my image, and I didn’t like what I saw. A handsome dude was my reflection, but on the inside, I felt ugly and deformed. I felt twisted with conflict. I wanted to change. I needed to change. The fear that I might be weak and fall back into my old ways gripped me. When I was in jail, there was no temptation for me. I read a lot of books and worked out, and took guidance from Rahmel. It was easy on the inside. I was home now and it was a different story.
I turned on the shower and got in. The warm water felt good. I was alone. I felt comfortable. It was quiet and tranquil. It had been a while since I had a long shower like this. I spent about twenty minutes in the shower, enjoying every minute of it.
I heard a knock and then America saying, “Baby, hurry up. Why you got me waiting?”
“I’m coming, baby.”
Turning off the water, I jumped out and reached for my towel, drying myself. I looked at my reflection, wrapping the towel around my waist and promising to do right by my woman this time around.
I stepped out the bathroom and into the soothing and sexual melody of some R. Kelly’s,
Honey Love
playing softly. The bass was bumping from the speakers at a comfortable volume. I looked down and noticed another
dozen of silk rose petals at my feet leading a trail to the main bedroom. I smiled.
I followed the trail and walked into the bedroom, where it was dimly lit with four French vanilla candles burning, creating a soft, yellow vanilla fragrance in the bedroom.
“It’s about time,” America said with lust in her eyes.
She was on the bed, upright on her knees and naked with her honey brown skin shimmering gracefully in the candle lit room. Her nipples were hard, her long sinuous hair falling stylishly down to her shoulders and her pussy trimmed. She wore the diamond, seed pearl, sapphire, platinum and pink gold necklace that I bought for her before my incarceration. It stopped at the tip of her breasts. I took in all of her and felt my dick hardening under the towel.
“Come get what’s yours,” she smiled.
“Damn, you is looking extra right now,” I proclaimed.
She smiled. It was contagious. Because when she smiled, I smiled.
I heard the CD changing to its next track, and Marques Houston,
played. She gestured with her index finger for me to come to her, dividing her thighs apart a little bit, and had her other hand in between her thighs as she tenderly massaged her clit.
I walked up to the foot of the bed, and she came to me, still on her knees, and pulled at my towel.
“You heard what the man said, I want you naked baby. I miss big daddy. I want you to park that thing into me tonight,” she whispered in my ear.
Her warm breath tickled my skin. She touched me while untying the towel from around my waist, it drop to the floor. I was blissfully hard. She pressed her luscious cherry flavored lips against mines. I felt her hand travel south, reaching for my thick dick. Her thin fingers coiled around my nine inches of thickness. She began moving her hand pleasingly up and down my long shaft as we kissed fervently, our naked bodies pressed against each other.
“Oh my God your body is so hard and muscular. Please fuck me, baby” she whispered in my ear.
I clutched her petite nude body and held her close to me. I moved my hands down her backside and rested them firmly against her ass. Cupping both cheeks, I lifted her up into my arms. She straddled me, and continued to saturate my neck, ear, and face with pleasant kisses.
I wanted to stick my dick in her as soon as we were vertical. I had other treats in mind. I pushed her down on the bed, her back meshed flat against the bed, with her knees up and legs spread. She just kept smiling.
“Do me, baby, take this pussy, please,” she pleaded, her chest heaving up and down as sexual anxiety surged through her body.
I had her propped against two pillows, facing me. Opening her thighs wider, I penetrated her with my tongue. I began sucking and licking on her clit, while fingering her pussy. She squirmed and screamed as her legs quivered against my hard body.
“Ooh ah, ooh yes, baby, Omar…Oh, Omar, oh shit, ooh… Ooh yes…baby, baby!”
I went to work, eating her out feverishly. She gripped my head and held it in place, indicating to me that I was hitting her spot. She then clamped her thighs around my ears and dug her nails into my shoulders, screaming.
“Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Omar… Oh, I missed you so fucking much, baby!”
Her juices made my passion rise. Try as I may, I couldn’t suck America dry. My dick got so hard it felt like my muscles were on fire. America gripped my throbbing rock hard penis and put it in her warm mouth. I was burning up.
I reached up and flipped her on her back, spreading her legs and getting in between. We locked eyes for a moment that said we truly loved each other.
Jagged Edge,
hummed in the background. I kept my weight off her and my arms outstretched in the push-up position.
BOOK: Love and a Gangsta
4.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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