Baby Momma 2 Read Free Page A

attention. Damn, it had to be painful for him to try to restrain all that behind nothing but a little tight wall of cotton.
    â€œSo, let me take a guess. You must be Michelle right?”
    My eyes widened in surprise at the sound of my name flowing from Leonidas’s beautiful, made-for-pussy-licking lips. Whew. I needed to calm down. How does this fool know my name?
    â€œUm, yes. And who might you be?” Suspicion immediately made my tone sharp; I couldn’t imagine anyone who looked like him actually knowing me.
    â€œKey! I’ma go wait in the damn car!” Yylannia shrieked from somewhere downstairs.
    Suddenly, I didn’t need an answer. He was Keyshawn Matthews, the superstar rookie drafted to play for Miami. I hadn’t noticed how exceptionally tall he was but I now felt dwarfed standing across from him, and I was close to five feet eleven without heels. I could feel my cheeks starting to get hot; my grown ass actually started blushing.
    â€œMr. Matthews? I . . . I am so sorry. I had no idea you even had a key to view the property. I guess you, um, you like it?” Here I was talking to one of the richest and probably most famous men in the NBA, and he was standing in nothing but his drawers! Ris was definitely not gonna believe this shit. Oh hell, best to not even tell Ris; she’d probably get jealous and start trippin’ any damn way. He flashed me a dazzling white smile displaying perfect deep dimples and straight white teeth.
    â€œYeah, I was testin’ the place out. My agent got me the key earlier. I parked in the garage. I’m lovin’ all the space but the acoustics in this mu’fucka ain’t right.”
    I raised an eyebrow, immediately puzzled. I had no idea what acoustics meant outside of a home theatre or studio. What did acoustics have to do with . . . “Wait, acoustics?”
    I knew this nigga wasn’t saying what I thought he was saying. The house we were in was one of the most sought after and high priced on the market. Fridays were my busiest days and I’d turned down two other closings and come out to show the property personally because Key’s agent swore up and down he wanted to buy and close today. I owned High Rise Estates, the second-largest real estate agency in Fort Lauderdale, and I only came out to do closings. Most of our clients were usually in the market for their third or fourth vacation home and I left the aggravating task of showing property after property to the finicky doctors, starlets, and athletes in the area to my staff.
    â€œYeah, the acoustics is on some mute ’n’ shit. I like to hear how good it feels when I’m puttin’ in work. Jus’ somethin’ that’s important to me. You wouldn’t understand though. So, what’s next?”
    I stared in disbelief. This was that minor detail fuckery and bullshit I mentioned earlier. This fool done lost his damn mind if he was thinking I was gonna let him run his ass through house after house, fuckin’ in staged bedrooms and messing up designer linens! I was on the verge of puttin’ him on full blast, potentially losing a client and a sale, but I was saved by my iPhone, which had started ringing downstairs.
    â€œI need to get that. You might wanna go ahead an’ put your damn clothes back on in the meantime.” Turning with a look of pure disgust, I rushed downstairs to answer my phone.
    â€œHi, Ris. Everything okay?” I breathed heavily into the phone.
    â€œHey, bae. E’rething’s good. Why you breathin’ so hard? What you doin’?”
    â€œNothing, I’m showing a property. Ran to grab my phone.”
    â€œOh, well, when you comin’ home so I know when to have dinner ready?”
    I couldn’t believe she was calling me during a showing to ask something like this. “Ris. Same time I always get home. Five-ish. Why, do you need me to pick somethin’ up?” I was trying to make