Page 48 of Mr. Calloway

She giggled, but I was serious. I gripped her hips, lifting her. “Put your legs on my shoulders,” I grumbled.

She walked her feet up my chest and sat her ankles on my shoulders.

“Hold on, baby,” I told her.

I rocked the fuck out of Z’s ass. She tried holding on, but I left no room for error as I served her every inch of this vegan dick. Zaria yelled so loud I knew Samara heard us, but in this moment, I didn’t care. I was fucking my wife, and moments like these, I played no games. I left no room for another nigga to compare.

“Z, stop all that yelling. You know how to take this dick.”

Her head swung side to side. We were almost there when the sound of Peace came in. “Da-da.”

“That little nigga about to wait,” I grunted.

“Da-da,” he whined again, followed by a cry.

I froze, and Zaria snickered. “Go get him. You know you want to. We can always have sex later.”

“Shit!” I hissed as I put her down. “I swear, Z, he’s a hater.”

I hurried to get cleaned up before walking out of the room, only to be greeted by Samara, who looked at me oddly.

“What?”

She laughed. “Nothing. I was going to get my brother, but I see he ruined mating time.” She giggled.

I couldn’t even say anything.

When the doorbell rang, Samara and I eyed each other. “Who’s here this early?”

She shrugged. “Dio, maybe.”

I shook my head. “Nah, that nigga would have been yelling at the door.”

Samara went to grab her brother while I hurried downstairs. I didn’t even need to look at the camera because the small peek out the window told me who it was. I swung the door open, scaring her.

“June, um... good morning,” Cynthia nervously said.

“Morning. What are you doing here?”

“I-I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t?—”

“What’s up, Granny? You’re not here just to see a nigga’s handsome face, so what’s the reason?”

Even though I was annoyed that she had come by, a part of me was kind of happy. It eliminated the need for me to drive to her and Clark’s home. I knew what Zaria wanted me to do, and this was the perfect opportunity.

She peeked over my shoulder, then back at me. “May I come in?”

I sucked my teeth. “Come on.”

She came in, glancing around. “Where are the little ones?”

“My kids are asleep. It’s not that kind of party, Granny.”

She spun so fast that I almost ran into her. “June, look. I know you don’t care much for me, but I was hoping you would let me see the boys. See, I’m moving away, and I won’t be back for a very long time. I was able to see Hope, and I was really hoping?—”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Cynthia, I respect what you're trying to do, you know, trying to build relationships and shit. But let’s not forget what happened or what you allowed to happen. Thank you for doing me the favor of saving my name, but you’re no martyr. Neither is Clark. Do I forgive you? No. Do I understand thewhybehind it? No. Can I live without knowing you are around? Yes. This is a monster you and Clark created.My heart isn’t as forgiving as you think. So, because nothing in this fucking world is free. I will allow you to see my son, but I need something in return.”

She clenched her chest as if what I said hurt her. I hoped it did because what they did to me hurt, too. Money doesn’t buy love, nor does it change the past. It’s simply a band-aid for temporary comfort. Even when the wound heals, you're still left with a scar, and that was where I was.