“I ain’t been a bitch ever, baby. You tricking on a queen, paying me for my time, or you loving me? You tell me what we’re doing,” Aria stated.

Isa reached around her body and palmed her ass. “I’m loving you, Ali. Now quit talking reckless before you make me mad.” He leaned into her, paint everywhere. Red. The color she hated. All over her neck as he planted a kiss there.

“Go wash your face.” Aria laughed.

“Come wash it for me.” He picked her up, hands under her ass as Aria dropped the paintbrush. His lips on hers. She didn’t even care that he was getting paint everywhere. That she tasted it a bit as he carried her to the bathroom.

He placed her on her feet, then took a step back before pulling his fitted white tee over his head. Isa’s light skin was covered. Crew shit, affiliation pieces, tributes to Aria, guns, Jesus, you name it—Isa had it tattooed on him. It looked like someone had come to tag him. He was skinny—frail, even—but as he stepped out of his Gucci jeans, he revealed all his weight. Dick like that made Aria coy. She would never get used to the size of him.

“I hate you so much,” she moaned as he closed the lid and took a seat. He was completely nude except for Nike socks, and Aria smiled, shaking her head. She had no idea how she had ended up with his ghetto ass, but she was enjoying the ride. Every single minute with Isa was a roller coaster. Their love for each other was a thrill. If they ever ended, Aria would struggle to find this much stimulation in a different man. The challenge was incredible.

“Come show me how much,” Isa said. Red paint still smeared his face and now decorated hers too.

Aria toed her way to him and straddled him. She wore his boxers. A habit. A bad one, according to him. “I don’t want to see all that ass in no drawers, Ali,” he would fuss. Tonight, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Yo, take these off,” he ordered. Aria stood, turned her back to him, then slid them down. Before she knew it, his large hands were around her waist. She yelped in surprise as he lifted her onto him. “Spell something on it.”

F-U-C-K-U-B-O-Y

Aria wound her hips around the curve of every letter.

Isa smacked her ass so hard Aria clenched her teeth. “Fuck you too,” he answered. “You ain’t slick.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to read.” She laughed.

D-A-G-O-D

“That’s right, Ali,” he moaned as she made light work of him. “Shit so good, baby. Swimming in chocolate. It’s wet and sweet.”