else to run. She was standing up in the bed on those unstable legs of hers with the upper half of her body pressed against the wall, and the other half jammed between me and the headboard. I continued putting in work until her legs gave way, and she fell back down to her knees. Then I prepared myself for the main event.
I let the liquid build in my mouth, then released it in a steady flow down her backside trail. She had never permitted me to enter her by her exit, but then again, I had never asked. I wasn’t into anal sex. I’m a real man. I only wanted to penetrate parts that I didn’t have, which was a pussy. I love looking at round asses, but their use in sex was only for slapping, spreading, and a place to shoot my business if I was in there raw. Penetration of it has never been a want of mine, but I could tell it was a want of Savannah’s. Her exit sat open, and I could tell by the area around it that it had been touched before. Fuck it. It hadn’t just been touched—somebody had busted it wide open. Since we were starting all over, I decided to make sure I was giving her everything she needed so cheating would be the last thought on her mind.
I didn’t know how to approach it besides what I saw in pornos, but Savannah had no problem with walking me through it. It was like all the pain she was feeling vanished as she grabbed the hand I had parked on her ass. She put my hand to her mouth and sucked on my middle and index fingers up to the knuckles. It had only been a few hours since I busted them, and even though it was now early Sunday morning, we hadn’t been out of the bed since we made it home Saturday evening. I planned to break Savannah’s back for at least forty-eight hours. Taking time away to work on my fingers wasn’t an option. The comforting feel of her soft lips on my busted knuckles healed my wounds temporarily.
Savannah then instructed me in a voice I ain’t never heard her speak in. She said, “Dre, you know where I want you to put them. Enter me slowly and then twist your fingers once you get in there.”
It was a mixture of Savannah’s “in the middle of an orgasm voice” and her “Hit me from the back, Dre” demanding tone. Her words alone almost caused me to top off, but the curiosity of what would follow kept me leveled. I did as I was told, and she kept demanding new things of me. The shit was turning me on like Savannah hadn’t done before. She was a seductress, and I was left seduced. She was bringing out the dog in me, and I was ready to mark my territory. Every time I’d ever touched Savannah, it’d been to make love or caress her body differently than them other niggas had. This was the first time I was ready to fuck Savannah like she was my bitch. I had the pink slip to her, and no one ever again in life would test-drive her. All of her demands, wants, needs, and all the other shit she was talking about got thrown out the window, and she was now a guest on Dre’s Show. She was going to get it like I wanted to give it to her, and that was that. All of her longing for different feels from different niggas was over. It was time I left her with no choice but to be loyal.
I rested all my weight on my forearm in her back until her body collapsed under me. I traced the arch of her back with my tongue as I reached both of my hands under her to grip her breasts. Her nipples felt like small boulders in my hands, but when twisted, they felt like rolling marbles. Savannah didn’t know what I was about to do, but she knew she was going to like it. The shaking in her legs told me that. I no-handed my way back inside of her and got a few more strokes in. Then I went for it. I dipped in her exit and pulled right back out of it. Instantly, I knew that anal shit wasn’t for me. Maybe I wasn’t high enough, or I should have been drunk. One thing I know for sure is that I’m leaving anal sex to them unsure or those triple-X-rated niggas and stick to head and pussy alone. The virginlike tightness of it was too much for me to stomach, and I refused to allow myself to enjoy it. I can’t picture myself craving some ass. That doesn’t even sound straight.
“Why did you stop?” She sounded pissed, and I knew the freaky bitch would, but I can’t get on that level with her. She’ll have to settle for some fingers from time to time.
“That ain’t what I want,” I said.
“But it’s what I want.”
“Naw, you ain’t had enough of this dick to know what you want yet,” I said, getting up.
I didn’t let my dislike for mining her body for coal ruin the mood. Instead, I relocated our session back to the bathroom where her MP3 player was still spitting out the hits. I hopped in the shower and told Savannah to join me. I cleaned my pipe off for some natural sex, Adam and Eve style, not that Mike and Steve shit that I had just experienced. After three pullouts to prevent my eruption, I let it go.
“Oh shit...”
It was the first time since we made Sade that I went off inside of her. My knees felt like they would snap if I didn’t sit down soon. I jumped out of the shower, water still running, body soaking wet, and lay across the foot of the bed to try to recover. Savannah wrapped us up in her towel, then straddled my limpness like a horse’s back, and we fell straight to sleep.
We didn’t wake up until Sunday night, dehydrated and hungry. I could feel it from the time I opened my eyes that something about that night just wasn’t right. It felt like I had something important to do, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I tried to ease my mind by smoking a blunt but didn’t have a cigar to roll one in. I sliced my finger with the knife cutting up vegetables for Savannah’s omelet that she later confessed she never wanted. I really should have gone to the hospital and gotten a stitch or two, but I used whatever I could find in the first aid kit.
After all of that, I got a text from my mama saying she signed Andre Jr. up to play football this year. He finally met the age requirements, and I’m on the other side of the map in Seattle, about to miss my son’s first game tonight. I didn’t think it could get any worse, but like a never-ending nightmare... It did. I got a voicemail from my boy Ryan back in Nashville, “I don’t know why you’re unreachable at the moment, but I need you to call me back ASAP. You don’t have time to put this call off. Call me back. You know who it is.”
The last time Ryan sent a message for me like this was on a night like this one. I’ll never forget it because it was the same day I met Savannah. I was on my way to bring her some weed to her spot in Bellevue, Tennessee. I was less than ten miles away from her apartment when I finally got the text message I was dreading to receive. It was Ryan informing me that a warrant had been issued for my arrest. I knew the day was coming when I’d have to turn myself in and lie down for a while or go on the run. I had been preparing for it, but preparations were useless. How do you prepare yourself to face time in prison? There’s some shit in life you just can’t prepare for, and ten years in prison was one of them.
Before I could stomach that my time on these streets was numbered, my boy Ryan had sent one more text that read, Yo’ baby mama gave you up. Get low, my nigga.
He didn’t just tell me I was headed to prison any more, but that my bitch was helping to put me there. That made the whole scenario different. I would have dealt with facing all that time a little better if I was going because I got caught dirty-handed. It would be my fault for slipping. But knowing I had been voluntarily snitched on by somebody I loved—somebody that I one time planned on spending forever with and the woman I’m supposed to honor for the rest of my life for carrying my child—had me feeling sick. The thought of my bitch working as an informant, telling the cops everything she could about me for free, nauseated me. I had to pull over on the side of the road in case I needed to vomit.
I had told her too much and made her the protector of my secrets. My baby mama, Tasha, had enough information on me to have me buried behind bars. One minute we were together, strong in our relationship, and then we hated each other and went against each other the next. I thought Tasha was in it for the long run, but nothing lasts forever. I should have known she’d turn on me, and in the back of my head, I always did.
Tasha showed she couldn’t be loyal every time we broke up. She’d have a new nigga in less than a week, and my son would become my mama’s responsibility until the new guy broke her heart or cut her off. She was ready to drop her title with me and replace it with somebody else’s before we could cool down enough to try to figure our shit out.
She had started being questioned by the police three weeks before I got that text message.