Honor Thy Thug by Wahida Clark Page A

did. The reunion was bittersweet.
    Not only did Kyra look different, but she seemed different. For one, it was surprising to see her reading the Bible and down on her knees praying. One minute she would appear all holier-than-thou, and the next minute she would be the old, talking-smack, neck-twisting, from-the-hood Kyra. The Kyra I was used to.
    “Ooh! Why are you sneaking up on me like that?” Trae had eased up behind me and was brushing his lips against my neck.
    “Because I want to steal you away from your girls for a few minutes.”
    “A few minutes? Yeah, right. That’s what you said the last time.” He began easing me away from the door. “Trae, stop. We are getting ready to go get something to eat.”
    He stopped and peeked in at the girls. “They ain’t trying to go nowhere no time soon. I just need a few minutes. They won’t even know you’re gone.” He pulled me away from my girls and eased me into the hall bathroom and shut the door.
    “You ain’t right,” I said, smiling at him.
    “You ain’t right! Stilettos on, ass cheeks hanging out the dress. What kind of restaurant are y’all going to?” He backed up against the door, and with both hands on my ass, he pulled me close to him.
    “Stop exaggerating! My ass cheeks are not hanging out.”
    “Bullshit. You ain’t going to no restaurant wearing a club dress.”
    I sucked my teeth. “Since when did you start having problems with me wearing short dresses?”
    “Since I’m not going with you. That’s when. You know my rules.”
    He was trippin’, and I wasn’t liking it. I damn sure wasn’t about to take the dress off. Hell, we were only going out to eat. We stood there staring into each other’s eyes as he continued to caress my ass. Just as it started to feel good, he abruptly turned me around and guided me toward the sink. I felt his hand ease up my back, and he pushed me forward. I grabbed onto the edges of the sink.
    I looked back at him. “What do you mean, I know your rules?”
    “Assume the position, and shut up.”
    “Shut who? Assume what?” I went to stand up, but he was holding me down with one hand and holding that steel with the other.
    “You heard me.” He used his knee to force my legs apart.
    I watched him in the mirror as he admired my ass and stroked himself.
    I felt the head of his dick enter me. “Don’t be telling me to shut up.” I moaned as I felt him push all the way inside me. I wanted to fuss, but it was feeling good, and I couldn’t help but throw the pussy back at him and talk shit. “Niggas willing to die over this pussy.”
    “And I’m willing to kill ’em.” He shoved the dress over my ass, ripping it. I knew he did it on purpose.
    “Trae!” I looked back at him. His eyes were closed as he held tight onto my waist, putting in work. I had an attitude about my dress, so I had to say something. “You tore my dress.” I even wanted to argue, but the dick now had my undivided attention. He stroked long and deep as subtle moans escaped his lips. I grabbed tighter onto the edges of the sink, and then he started coming. He pulled out and skeeted all over my ass and my dress. I stood straight up, turned around, and pushed him. “You dog!”
    “Now, go change into something more conservative!” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “But you gotta admit, that was the shit.”
    “You’ll see how conservative I am when you realize how long it’ll be before you get up in this pussy again,” I snapped as I brushed past him to get out of the bathroom. He blocked the door, staring at me as he fixed his clothes.
    “What’s the matter with you? I know you ain’t trippin’ about a dress that I bought!”
    “Yes, I am trippin’. I’m trippin’ about you tearing my dress, fucking me, spurting all over me, and I didn’t even come! What the fuck is your problem?” I snatched the bathroom door open, and he slammed it shut. “Move, Trae, with ya selfish ass!”
    “Man, fuck that dress. I