Baby Momma 2 Read Free

away.
    The woman, now more clearly visible, seemed oddly familiar. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed tight in ecstasy. She was so thin and palely light skinned beneath his thick, muscular frame that it looked like he was splitting her in half. Double damn! Dazed, my nipples hardened beneath my blouse as he lowered his head and flecked his tongue across her barely there breasts, her physique embarrassingly boyish compared to mine. It was as if my body had a mind of its own and even though my brain was saying, girl, go, I was glued to the floor. My nostrils involuntarily flared and I felt myself slowly coming to life as blood rushed to my most sensitive parts. I could smell his sweat and her wetness, all mingling with the woodsy aroma of the $4,000 cherry nightstand in the corner that I’d just had unpacked yesterday, and him.
    As if splashed with cold water my body jolted back to reality. I only knew one mu’fucka who wore Issey Miyake and now the scent alone brought to mind entirely too many bad memories. I snapped out of my daze and cleared my throat again, loudly this time.
    â€œExcuse me, you need to get out of here before I call the police.”
    Hearing my voice, the woman sprang to an upright position, resting on her elbows, pulling the comforter up to cover herself. I recognized her almost immediately: Yylannia Besore. She was one of the hottest models out right now, half black and French, or something like that—I couldn’t remember. But, I’d seen her a hundred times in the latest magazines and commercials. I couldn’t believe she’d appear so boyish and lanky in person. She was nothing like the sexual vixen she appeared to be on camera but, lo and behold, I guessed that’s what the wonders of makeup and Photoshop could do for a person.
    â€œWhere the fuck did she come from?” Yylannia was trying to untangle herself from the statuesque man who had her pinned in place.
    He sat back on his haunches with a sigh of frustration and obvious resentment at my intrusion, allowing her to scamper off the bed and quickly dart past me to grab her things and get dressed.
    My eyes molested him from the neck downward. Huge pecs lightly dusted with soft, straight dark hair that narrowed into a thin line as it ran downward in between tight abs and . . .
    â€œYou couldn’t have waited jus’ li’l bit longer huh?”
    I jerked myself back to reality. My head whipped up so fast I was surprised it didn’t make the snap noise like in one of those old-school kung fu movies. His voice was deep, unbelievably deep. It sounded like warm honey to my ears.
    â€œNo, and you need to put some fire to ya ass an’ get outta here before I call the police.”
    The cologne he wore made me dislike him immediately. But his sex appeal was making my psyche do a double take. He reminded me of a large cat as he fluidly uncoiled himself from the bed. Sway-backed nigga. The curve in his lower back was so over-pronounced and the muscles in his ass so tight and high the image of a gorilla came to mind. He was thick as hell and sexy as fuck. Right about now, I could use a good gorilla fuck. I almost laughed out loud at the thought. Lord, I was definitely trippin’. He was a dark chocolate version of Leonidas from that movie 300. My son, Trey, must have made me watch that movie a million times, and the only reason I could sit through it over and over again was because of all the beautifully built men who’d be on the damn TV screen.
    Oh yes, he could’ve definitely passed for an ancient Spartan warrior. He had straight black hair, a Caesar low cut, long, thick sideburns that tapered beneath his chin into a thick, full beard. It highlighted the fullness of his pink lips and gave him an almost dangerous appeal. He picked his boxers up from beside the bed and slid them on. I tried not to smile because, despite my intrusion and threats, he was still standing at full, and I mean full,