JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON ME | PART ONE
The Rumba Lounge was always packed on a Friday night. I’m talking wall to wall, parking lot on swole, condom after a wild night with a baddie full. I didn’t always like going out because the niggas in my city hated to see me shine so bad; they would’ve done anything to put me in the ground like they did my dad.
My nigga Kash was the only reason I stepped out on that particular Friday, even though he got fucked up and passed out before the party even started.
I wanted to say fuck the party and go home for the night, but if it wasn’t for him begging me to come out for his birthday, I would’ve never met Amara.
“You look like you can dance. Let’s go, big boy.”
She grabbed the front of my jeans and pulled me away from the wall I was leaning against. It caught me off guard because I had never seen her in the city before, and as the heir of the biggest dope dealer in South Florida, I knew everybody.
“Damn, you doing it like that?” I smiled at her, loving the feeling of her nails pressed against my bare skin. “You lucky you fine. My mama told me not to talk to strangers.”
“We all break the rules at some point.”
She pulled me close and wrapped her arms around my waist, swaying to Tems - Wickedest. Compared to me, a 6’4 nigga close to 250 pounds, she was a midget. But that didn’t stop her from handling me like she was Big Mama.
When she slipped her hands under my jacket and caressed my back like we already knew each other, I got the chills—something about long nails gliding over my flesh drove me crazy.
She did it just right, too, with the perfect amount of pressure and chemistry. It made me wonder if we did know each other and I just didn’t remember.
“I know you from somewhere?”
I leaned down to get in her ear, and she put her hand on the back of my head and continued dancing. Her touch was so magnetic, I forgot about my question and started dancing too.
The DJ mixed in Ball Greezy's “Nice and Slow” as Tems faded out. That was my favorite club song at the time. I started feeling myself, feeling the liquor, and feeling this sexy ass mami rubbing all over me.
She turned around and pushed her ass against me, making sure I got a good look at the arch in her spine. I saw it all—ass, titties, sexy ass legs and thighs. When I realized it was safe to put my hands all over her, too, I took advantage of the opportunity. I knew she liked it because I felt her body quiver when I cupped her titiies and held her steady while we danced.
“You holding me like you my man,” she said. “Let me find out you my man that’s not my man.”
“I might be.”
My lips brushed against her neck as she leaned against me, grinding like she wanted to ride. I rested my hands on her hips and slow grooved in perfect rhythm, hoping the song didn’t end too soon.
She turned to face me again, smiling as we locked eyes, and I knew from that very moment, Amara would be a pain in my ass forever.
“Thanks for the dance.” She looked me up and down and licked her lips. “I like that you ain’t all stuck up.”
“Nah, I’m a chill guy,” I replied. “I like that you go for what you want. Not many women approach me like that.”
“Yeah, I bet,” she teased. “I’m Amara. I’m new here. That’s why you never saw me.”
She reached to shake my hand like we weren’t bumping and grinding a few seconds ago. I accepted it, told her my name was Caine, and invited her to the VIP.
I wasn’t ready for her to leave—didn’t even know if she had a man or not. I figured she didn’t because of the way we danced, but in the heart of thot city, you could never be so sure.
“I’m drinking Don tonight. You drink?” I asked, already pouring up.
“Yeah, I’ll take a lil’ bit. Not too much, though. I gotta make it home tonight.”
“Just tonight?” I handed her the drink and sat down next to her. “What about any other night?”
“I wanna make it home on those nights too, but especially tonight.”
I loved how she flirted with her eyes and made herself comfortable in my space. She wasn’t shy about touching me either. Every chance she got to put her hands on my chest, abs, or legs, she did exactly that.
“I dig the style,” she opened one side of my jacket enough to peep the tatts. “Very 90s. You the leader of a boy group or something?”
“Nah,” I laughed. “I’m just me.”
She leaned against me and rested her elbow on my lap, close to the knot that throbbed in my underwear. I put my arm around her and cupped her left breast like I owned it. The way she instantly reached up and held onto my hand, I imagined we looked like a real couple. But we weren’t. Just two strangers with insane chemistry.
“Why they call you Caine?”
“Why they call you Amara?”
“Because it’s my name.” She pinched the inside of my thigh. “Now answer the question.”
“Caine is my name,” I chuckled. “My real name. Cainen Theodorecappalets.”
We talked for a while before the DJ called the last song, but I felt like time flew. I invited her to my after-hours spot — the game room I owned, which was the hottest in the state — but she said she had to get with her cousin before she said yes.
Luckily for me, but fucked up for her, her cousin got drunk and forgot they were at the club together. She ended up leaving with a nigga and left Amara stranded.
“I can’t believe she forgot I was here! What if I was drunk or didn’t have my phone to call Uber?”
She laughed, but I didn’t think it was funny. In a city like mine, being a pretty girl in the streets at night was dangerous.
“So… does that mean you coming with me?” I flirted.
She looked around the parking lot like she was double-checking for witnesses before she answered. When she felt like enough people saw us and would remember who she was talking to if anything happened, she said, “Yeah. I guess I am.”
I walked her to my ride—a souped-up classic Caprice with candy paint and 24-inch rims. Stock windows, custom seats, and a custom tag that read CAINE.
I could tell she had never seen shit like it. I had one of the baddest cars in the city, and had even won best Chevy a few years in a row at the Florida classics.
“Where we going?” she asked as we cruised down I-75 South.
“Why? You got somewhere to be?”
“I might, if where you’re taking me ain’t where I wanna be.”
I had to give it to her. She was slick and played the game like a true playa. Not only was she sexy as hell and down to earth, but her mind was one of the sharpest ones I ever ran across outside of my dad.
“We going to my spot. Caine’s Game Room, Siesta Key. And don’t say you ain’t heard about it, ‘cause that’s one of the first places everybody mention when they come here.”
“That cocky, huh??” she laughed. “Okay. We’ll see if I like it or not. I don’t like playing games, so if not, you owe me a ride home.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I smiled. “I was taking you home anyway.”
The game room was a project I put together after my dad was killed. He had this old warehouse property I decided to keep in the family. It was five floors of unlimited potential that I had no idea what to do with at the time. But after sitting on it for a few months, it finally came to me.
“You kidding me, right?” Amara unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car before I could cut it off. “I thought you meant one of those rinky-dink shops with a pool table and pinball machine. What the hell!?”
“What the fuck?” I laughed. “What you got against the small timers?”
“Nothing! I just didn’t expect you to bring me to the MGM Grand of game rooms.”
I gave her a tour of the building; I showed her the lounges, restaurants, dance floors, games, and souvenir shops. The icing on the cake was when I showed her the penthouse. That’s where I stayed most of the time, until I was tired of the city and wanted to get away.
“I can’t believe you live here. Look at this! You got a balcony that overlooks the whole building and one that overlooks the city? How?”
“Inheritance,” I shrugged. “My dad was a businessman.”
I liked the way she looked at me like she didn’t believe me. It turned me on more than I already was. She caught the look and slowly walked over to me, giving me the eyes of somebody who wanted to fuck.
When she stuck her hand in my pocket and started fishing around for a lighter, I thought she was looking for something else… I wanted her to be looking for something else. But my horny ass got a surprise when she asked if I wanted to smoke.
“You wanna hit this?”
She gave me a flirtatious look as we stepped onto the balcony.
“I feel like that’s a trick question.”
“It’s not!” she laughed. “You literally see me with a blunt in my hand.”
I got close and slid the blunt from her fingers, making sure our hands touched. I took a couple of drags before I handed it back to her. I didn’t smoke much—from time to time when the vibe was right. And that night, the vibe was definitely right.
“I can’t stay out all night,” she said. “I like kicking it with you, and I do love the game room, but a girl got things to do in the morning. You know?”
“That’s cool.” I sat down to wait for her to finish her smoke. “I told you you would like it.”
“You did,” she replied as she put her blunt out. “I guess I owe you something now.”
I sat back in my chair when she walked toward me, gazing into my eyes like a hungry lioness. She knew I was hard and ready because of the random bulge in my pants, but she still wanted to tease me.
I didn’t mind being teased as long as she didn’t leave me hanging.
“Is this for me?” She sat on my lap and started to grind. “Feels big, but how do I know for sure?”
“Touch it,” I said. “You been touching everything else tonight.”
She pressed a finger to my lips and guided my head back, then slid that same finger down my chest, all the way to my belt. When she eased her hand inside my underwear, I got so hard that she ran out of room to stroke.
“Damn. That is big.” She buried her face in my chest like she was shy all of a sudden. “What can little old me do with all that?”
“Whatever you wanna do.”
I took off my jacket, and she looked at me like I was her favorite bad influence. Not wanting to waste any more time fighting our sexual tension, I leaned in and kissed her. I guess she liked the feeling of my lips pressed against hers, because she let out a soft moan and cradled my head between her hands.
She didn’t flinch when I went to unbutton her pants or take off her shirt either. She didn’t even stop kissing me so I could see what I was doing. She was so ready to feel that knot inside her that she didn’t even let me take my pants down all the way before she pushed me in.
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