After Kendra had poured her heart out in the letter, she sat the pen and paper down and decided to relax and let her mind captivate her thoughts. Kendra washed her body. Imagining her hands were Wiz’s hands, she caressed her nipples. While biting on her bottom lip, she guided her hands down in between her thighs. Kendra massaged her clitoris, letting the heat rise in her body. She started with a slow, circular motion, causing friction between her legs. She inserted one finger into her canal, using her other hand to massage her breasts. She was just about to erupt when Trent interrupted her flow. He undressed and joined Kendra in the whirlpool tub. He took her finger and put it in his mouth, savoring her treasure.
Trent raised Kendra slightly out the water and dove head first in between her legs, sucking and licking on her pearl. Trent begged for forgiveness while lapping up all her juices. Kendra began to moan while holding on to the edge of the tub. Trent eased himself inside of her ever so gently, taking his time, pumping in and out, going as far as she would let him. Kendra was enjoying the moment. She was on a high. All of her pain had escaped her mind momentarily. Trent wrapped Kendra around his waist while still inside of her. He carried her into the bedroom. He laid her on top of the bed, keeping his stroke. Kendra laid back and let Trent take total control, but she made sure she threw that pussy back at him, contracting her pussy muscles and releasing Trent’s dick at the same time, putting Trent in a frenzy.
“Work that shit, ma. Make that pussy talk to me,” Trent whispered in Kendra’s ear.
Then, he started speaking in his native tongue. That always sent Kendra over the edge. She loved the way he spoke Spanish. It made her melt, and, like clockwork, Kendra squirted all over the place. Kendra rolled over onto her side. She couldn’t help but think about Wiz. She felt a little guilty because, in her mind, she was sexing Wiz not Trent. Kendra giggled to herself and closed her eyes.
Once Kendra was fast asleep, Trent eased himself out the bed. He walked into the den, turned on the TV, and rolled a blunt. Trent stopped just before he lit his blunt and thought about the time Mrs. LaSalle had caught him smoking in the house.
Kendra and Trent were visiting one Sunday evening. After dinner, Kendra escorted Trent to the den, so he could catch the game. He, then, took his blunt from Kendra’s purse. He laid his head back, smoking and enjoying the game. Out of nowhere, Kendra’s mom walked in and yelled, “Boy, I know damn well you’re not smoking that shit in my house.”
Trent didn’t know what to do or say. He just sat there with his mouth wide open. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. LaSalle. I didn’t know.”
“Just make sure you save me the other half of that blunt,” Mrs. LaSalle said with a wink.
Then, she returned to clear the dishes off the table, leaving Trent astonished.
Trent laughed at the thought while he blazed his blunt. Thinking of Mrs. LaSalle brought tears to his eyes. He had loved her like his own. Trent sat back, contemplating his next move. He needed to make a few calls to his boys to make sure everything was kosher.
First, Trent called Marquise just to see if he had heard anything, and, if he was too quick to give up any info, then he would be dealt with. The phone rang five times before Marquise picked up.
When he answered, Trent could hear the slurps and moans of a woman.
“Who dis?” Marquise asked, moaning into the receiver.
“Nigga, who the fuck you think this is?” Trent said heatedly.
“My bad, dog! I just got another phone and didn’t have time to store numbers yet,” Marquise said, pushing the young girl’s head away. “What’s going on, my nigga?”
Trent sighed, “Somebody followed me home today, but I took them on a chase through the neighborhood.”
“Damn, my nigga! You alright? Shit! If you know who it is, we can always go to war,” Marquise stated, down for the cause.
“Yeah, I’m a’ight, but check it. I need you to do me a favor. Slide through my crib. Make sure everything is cool. Once it looks like it’s okay, enter the house from the garage. Call me once you’re there, so I can tell you what do from there,” Trent replied, and Marquise agreed.
After talking to Marquise and confirming he wasn’t the culprit, Trent called the next soldier in line. Trent didn’t roll with many niggas, and it was hard to be in his circle. After talking to the soldier, Trent called Marcos, but his line went to voicemail.
Marquise called right back and said “Aye, my nig. Seems like your house has been broken into,” Marquise said as he stepped inside. “Damn, dog! They fucked the place up real bad, too.”
Trent advised his protégé that he would be there shortly.
Chapter 7
Trent drove back to his house, where he met Marquise outside. They gave each other a dap. Then, Trent took a brief look around.
“Do you think this has anything to do with JD?” Marquise asked.
Trent shrugged his shoulders. “I doubt it very seriously,” Trent answered. “It had to be those same niggas that was following me earlier. I think one of ‘em caught a bullet, not sure though.” He proceeded to walk around the house, looking for things that were missing. Upon entering his room, he found it to be quite strange that everything he owned was out of place and damaged. He found it to be even stranger when he discovered that Kendra’s things hadn’t been touched. That’s odd, Trent thought. Whoever broke in had to be some crazed lunatic.
Marquise ascended the steps two at a time. He looked around and said, “Damn, kid! Someone don’t like you very much. I just got a text from Marcos. He said he’s on the way, so, my nigga, what they want?”
“Shit, my nigga! You got me. I’m still tryna figure it out myself,” Trent said, taking a seat on the dresser. He sat there with a perplexed look, deep in thought. He didn’t know where to look. He just knew he was in a fucked up situation, and, from that point, it was on. Everyone was getting the green light. Trent saw the lights of Marcos’s Camaro, so he headed down the stairs. Trent met Marcos at the door.
“Sup, my nigga?” Trent asked.
Marcos shook his head as he gave Trent dap and a brotherly hug.
“What the fuck is going on ‘round here? Shit! Ken must really be tired of your trifling ass!” Marcos observed. “My nigga, this is bad. You have spray paint on the walls. Looks like either a bitch did this or a little nigga that’s tryna be down with some crew.”
“Funny thing is they fucked up my shit, but they left Ken’s stuff untouched,” Trent answered. “And I didn’t even get to tell you that I was followed earlier, but I eluded they ass. Then, I shot one of ‘em,” he stated.
Marcos raised an eyebrow. “You said this happened when?” Marcos asked.
“’Round six. Why? What’s up?” Trent asked.
Now, he was staring at Marcos, ready to give him the business. Trent stayed ready. His motto was “If you stay ready, you ain’t got to get ready”. Marcos knew that look all too well to know when Trent was upset. Marcos respected Trent and cared for him like he was a brother. The only time they ever got into it was over a football bet. It was so petty, but they didn’t talk for weeks. Finally, their girlfriends made them make up.