Technical, p.1
Technical, page 1
TECHNICAL
St. Louis CYCLONES: BOOK 2
ALEXANDRIA HOUSE
Pink Cashmere Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2021 by ALEXANDRIA HOUSE
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
About the Author
Also by ALEXANDRIA HOUSE
Dedication
For my big brother—gone way too soon. Thank you for always loving and protecting me.
You are profoundly missed.
-Love, Baby Sis
One
DRAYVEON
I closed my eyes and let my body sink into the mattress as she went to work, her warm, wet mouth eagerly devouring me as our moans collided in my ears.
“Shit,” I murmured. If this woman wasn’t good at anything else, she was a fucking master at sucking dick. She took her time with it, swallowing me inch by inch. No gagging, no coming up for air, just my dick sliding down her elegant throat as she hummed with pleasure. The pussy was good, too, but I’d damn near give her my nonexistent firstborn for a blowjob.
“Shhhhit,” I repeated as the bottom of my feet began to heat up, my heart started to race, and my body tensed. When the nut hit me full force, the hand that had been resting on the back of her head fell away as my limbs grew numb. I grunted so harshly that I was hoarse afterwards. Her mouth left my dick, and I felt her breath on my face but still couldn’t open my eyes. I was on cloud-fucking-nine.
When she kissed me, I kissed her back, clutching the back of her head, her hair tangled in my fingers. The other thing about this woman that I liked besides her superior head game was that she didn’t care about being fucked. She got off on giving pleasure. That was good because I was too damn weak to give her the dick. She’d drained my whole life force from me.
I lay there with her for about twenty minutes out of courtesy before I said, “I gotta go.”
She sighed. “I know you do. When will I see you again?”
Sliding her off my chest, I sat up on the side of the bed and shrugged. “Don’t know. Soon.”
“Always soon, huh?” she purred.
As I grabbed my t-shirt from the floor and dropped it over my head, I said, “And I always come back, don’t I?”
“You do, just not often enough.”
I stood from the bed and pulled on my underwear and sweatpants. “I’ll call you, Rae,” I offered without acknowledging her statement. Turning to face her, I took her in. Rae Reynolds was gorgeous and thick with mocha skin, Michelle Obama arms, and surgically lifted breasts—a wealthy fifty-year-old goddess. “Come give me a kiss.”
Grinning, she left the bed and approached me, melting in my arms.
When I left her lavish bedroom, I took my usual route through the house to the living room where my security—Shem and Luigi—sat watching TV.
“You ready, Skip?” Shem boomed, lifting his bulky frame from the couch.
I nodded. “Yep. Let’s roll.”
Shem led the way with Luigi rolling out behind me. We were barely out the door when Rae’s husband pulled up. I was in the backseat of my G-Class when Mr. Reynolds approached me, smiling as he said, “I trust you put her in a good mood?”
With a lazy grin, I replied, “She damn sure put me in one.”
With a chuckle, the older gentleman turned and headed toward his house as
Shem, the day’s driver, started the engine.
“Man, this shit is still crazy to me,” Luigi said in his shrill voice. Dude was huge but talked like he was a member of the famous singing Jackson family.
I shrugged. “They got an open marriage. Ain’t like he ain’t getting it in too.”
“He rich. You know he getting it in,” Shem offered.
They kept the conversation going as I reclined in my seat, closed my eyes, and smiled. Life was good as hell.
* * *
After my session with Rae, I headed home, hit my private gym for a workout, and kicked back in my game room to whoop Shem’s ass on 2K while Luigi provided commentary.
“I can’t believe your ass is playing as yourself,” Luigi said, his voice followed by the sound of him sucking up the dregs of his soda and moving the straw around.
“Who else I’ma be? I’m the best, nigga,” I replied.
“Yeah, well your little avatar ain’t gon’ be good enough today, ‘cause I’m about to molly-wop you, young sir,” Shem jibed.
“Shiiiid, watch!” I shot back.
“I’m starving. What we got in the kitchen?” Luigi said, already making his way to the refrigerator.
“Didn’t you just get through eating?” Shem asked.
“A Big Mac? Nigga, that was a snack,” Luigi said.
“My OG brought some stuff over yesterday,” I offered, eyes still on the game.
“I don’t see nothing but healthy shit! This all she brought?” Luigi’s big ass whined.
“Damn, bruh, why we gotta have the same discussion all the time? It ain’t never nothing but healthy shit in this house,” Shem said. “Skip gotta stay in shape.”
“Yeah, so I can work and feed y’all’s big asses,” I quipped.
“Fuck this. I’ma order something from QuickEats,” Luigi informed us.
“Kang of Wangs? Order me some of them lemon pepper wings. All flats,” Shem said.
Luigi plopped back down on the other end of the sectional from me and pulled out his phone. “A’ight.”
Thirty minutes later, Shem was claiming the ass kicking he’d taken on 2K was a result of me cheating, and I was shaking my head.
“That’s called skill, my G. Don’t hate,” I said, standing and stretching just as a notification popped up on my phone with a ding.
“Front gate?” Shem asked.
“Yeah,” I said, observing the live camera feed from my gate on the screen of my phone. Noting the QuickEats sticker on the car’s windshield, I tapped on the icon for my home security app and entered the code to open the gate.
“Shit! I hope it’s the food! I’m ‘bout to pass the fuck out!” Shem yelled.
“Shiiiiid, with all that food you carrying around in that gut?” I said, heading out of the living room.
“Fuck you!” That was Shem, of course.
“See, it is the food and I’m heading to the door to get it since I need to go piss anyway,” I said.
“‘Preciate it, cuz. Hey, make sure you tip ‘em!” Shem said to my back.
“Damn, I thought I was the boss,” I muttered, making my way to the door.
The doorbell rang as I swung the door open. When I saw the person standing on the other side, I froze. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this—her. It was the eyes, icy blue against pretty brown skin. Were they contacts? They had to be. There was no way eyes like those could be real.
I was so damn confused and intrigued that it took a minute to notice her stomach, big and round and very obvious in the tight black dress she wore with black combat boots. Her hair was in dreadlocks, the tips dyed a bright orange. One of her hands held the bottom of her stomach while the other held a big paper sack out toward me.
“Delivery for, um, Louie G.?” she said, voice husky but strained as she gave me Luigi’s government name through a frown.
“Oh, yeah…yeah. Um…” I took the bag from her and stared as she stood there frowning. “You a’ight?” I asked.
Just as her full lips parted to answer me, liquid gushed from between her legs, hitting the bricked surface outside my door and splashing onto her boots and my bare feet.
“The fuck?!” I damn near shrieked.
“Oh no,” she wailed, her eyes on the mess pooled at her feet. “Oh, shiiiiiit!”
I dropped the sack of food. “What the fuck? Is that…what is that?!”
She hunched over, moaning as she gripped her stomach with both hands. “Ohhhhhhhh,” she groaned.
My heart started jogging in my chest as I shouted, “Aye! One of y’all call nine-one-one!”
“Fuccccck!” she moaned, dropping to her knees.
I could hear heavy footsteps approaching as I gawked at her while thinking she shouldn’t be on her knees on that hard-ass brick. “Hey, can you stand up?” I asked and then felt dumb for asking. If she could stand up, she wouldn’t have been on her knees.
“Why—oh shit!” one of the guys said. Then they were shouting more stuff tha t I couldn’t make out because I was laser focused on this woman kneeling and howling at my doorstep.
On automatic, I bent down and picked her up. She let go of her stomach and put her arms around my neck. When I turned to take her into the house, I was blocked by a wall of Luigi and Shem who stood there looking confused as shit.
“Move!” I shouted.
They both jumped out of my way, and I headed to the only bedroom that was located downstairs. “One of y’all call nine-one-one and one of y’all come with me.”
Making it to my destination, I carefully placed her on the guest bed and kind of just stood there because I had no idea what to do next.
“She got somebody we can call besides nine-one-one?”
My head snapped up from her to Luigi, who’d followed me into the room, then fell back to her.
Her eyes were squeezed shut as she shook her head. “Uh…I—oh my godddddd,” she shrieked, and then she scrambled to take her panties off—which, what the fuck—and opened her legs. Next thing I knew, she’d started grunting and straining. Pushing.
She was pushing.
Oh, hell naw!
“Shem! Tell them folks to hurry!” Luigi yelled in mezzosoprano, echoing my thoughts…because shit!
“Aye, what’s your name?” I asked when she let up on that grunting and pushing for a minute.
“St-Stevie,” she bit out.
“Okay, Stevie…can you stop pushing until the ambulance gets here because I don’t know what the fuck to do to help you.”
“I can’t stop. I have to puuuush! Shit!!
“Is that the head?!” Luigi squeaked.
“Got damn,” was all I could manage to say because there really was a little hairy head poking out of this chick. My stomach flipped and my knees buckled, forcing me to back up until I felt the wall behind me, my eyes bouncing from the baby’s head to ole girl’s face. Then a little sense kicked in and I started remembering shit I’d seen in movies.
Approaching the bed, I grabbed her hand and said, “You got this, Stevie. You got this! Just keep pushing.”
Luigi’s big ass disappeared, quickly returning with some towels, and handing me a small one. When I gave him a look that read what the hell am I supposed to do with this, he said, “She sweating, man.”
Nodding, I wiped her forehead and kept trying to encourage her as I watched her progress. This shit was…I don’t know. It was weird but in a beautiful way. I’d never seen anything like it and had never planned to. I didn’t want kids. I didn’t want a wife, none of that shit. I was pretty sure I’d be bad at it, the whole husband and father thing. I was positive that fucking that stuff up was in my DNA. It had to be.
She started squeezing my hand so hard I almost yelped. She was kind of a thick chick, but damn, she still shouldn’t have been so strong. Nevertheless, I didn’t complain about it; I just looked into her strange eyes and said, “You got it, Stevie. You got this!”
“Uh, don’t somebody need to like help pull the baby out?” Luigi asked.
I glanced up at him. “What? How you know that?”
“Remember when I was messing around with Shanté Broughton? She used to watch births on YouTube all the time, and I remember the doctor always like, tugs on the baby to help get it out.”
“I ain’t no damn doctor! I might break it or something! Where the fuck is the ambulance? Shem!”
“Can y’all please shut the fuck up?!” Stevie wailed, and then she started squeezing my hand again, harder. Shutting her eyes, she roared as she pushed again, and the next thing I knew, a little baby was lying on the bed between her legs squalling loudly. It was bloody and so small. I couldn’t take my eyes off it—her—him? A closer look told me it was a him.
Wow. Like for real, wow!
“Shit,” Luigi muttered.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“B-boy or girl?” Stevie asked.
“Boy,” Luigi and I said in unison.
She strained her neck, peering between her legs. “I wanna hold him.”
I looked up at Luigi who raised his hands and shook his head.
I rolled my eyes at his punk ass, tried to move to get the baby, but Stevie still had a death grip on my hand. “Uh…can you let my hand go?”
“Sorry,” she said.
Grabbing one of the larger towels, I slowly reached for the baby.
“Make sure you support his head and watch the umbilical cord. It’s still attached, you know,” Luigi informed me.
I glared at him as I tried to figure out how to do what I needed to do, letting my eyes drift over to Stevie. “I don’t wanna hurt him or fuck up the cord thing.”
She nodded, moving to sit up in the bed. I watched as she reached between her legs and picked the wet little baby up with tears in her eyes. The cord was still attached to him and her…I think. Didn’t somebody need to cut it? Judging from the look on Luigi’s face, the somebody was going to end up being me.
Mother. Fuck.
“Look at you,” she cooed softly. Cradling him against her chest, tears rolled down her cheeks. “Baby boy, I love you already.”
“Aye, the ambulance just pulled up—” Shem said as he stepped into the bedroom. One look at Stevie, the baby, and the condition of the bed, and his titanic ass hit the floor.
Two
DRAYVEON
I jerked upright in my bed, heart beating so fast I could almost hear it echoing in my bedroom. The dream was the same as it had been since I was seven damn years old—the argument, the tears stinging my eyes, the musty smell of the dark closet, my big brother’s reassuring voice, the fear that had me in a chokehold. Nearly twenty years of dreaming the same dream, and it felt real every time. It felt real and I felt helpless, leaning on my older brother for safety when he was a kid himself, but that was how trauma worked. It never really left you, just hung out in the dark corners and shadows of your psyche and soul, giving you enough leeway to live life but not truly enjoy it. I’d accomplished a lot since I was seven, had family and friends who loved and cared for me, but still, I was fucked all the way up in the head more days than I could count.
Rubbing my eyes, I stood and stretched before heading out of my room and down the stairs. My steps faltered at the guest bedroom door. The light was off in there, leaving the space just as dark as the rest of the house, but I knew the bed was stripped because I’d done it myself. I wondered how they were now, Stevie and her baby. It’d only been a few hours since the ambulance took them away. I hoped everything was okay.
Blinking and shaking my head, I headed toward the sunroom which led out to the pool area. Rounding the pool, I made my way to my sanctuary—my gym complex. Once inside, I grabbed a basketball from a rack full of them close to the door and started doing what I always did when I couldn’t sleep—shooting baskets.
STEVIE
“He still ain’t answering?” Bria asked, stepping inside my hospital room with two cups in her hands.
Dropping my cell onto my lap, I shook my head. “I don’t know why I even tried to call him. It’s not like he’s ever been interested in the baby.”
As soon as those words left my mouth, my eyes inched over to my little boy, fast asleep in the clear hospital bassinet. He was beautiful and more than I believed I deserved because he was healthy, despite having arrived a little early.
“I get it, though. I mean he is the baby's father,” Bria mused, handing me a cup of soda which I set on the metal nightstand.
“If you want to call him that.” I rolled my eyes, trying to keep from crying even though my former boyfriend's actions weren't surprising in the least. He’d made clear his stance on my pregnancy—he wasn’t ready and wouldn’t be involved.
