Don Caselli (Caselli Family, #2)

by Jahquel J.

Here’s to being fucked and loving books. Or being fucked while reading books… who said thatttt?

Psst. You heard me, right? It’s a Insta-Love, right? Mmkay. Just so you know.

If he had a valid reason other than the fact that the man put steak sauce on his steak,

Who the fuck died and made him in charge of who I wanted to be with? Menace kidnapped his fucking wife and fell in love with her. The nigga wasn’t qualified to set any rules on who could and couldn’t be together.

Ruthless as they came and went to private school.

My social class had nothing to do with how quick I’d put this gun in yo’ fucking mouth if you tried me.

When it came to me and mine, I would protect them with everything I had.

“I tune people out and have been doing it since I was a child. It has always been easy for me to become lost in a book, especially when it’s a good book.” “What you reading?” “Block Wives of Atlanta by Sevyn McCray.”

“You’re Black, rich, and fine… how does it feel to be God’s favorite?”

“Sometimes losing people isn’t that bad. It propels us to where we need to be. People can hold us back without us even realizing the shit.”

“So, basically fuck me, my wife, and our baby?” I heard my brother’s voice behind me and saw him walking down toward us.

“Navy, I ain’t seen you in a minute.” Navy’s head shot up confused. “I’ve never been here.” Menace looked at her. “She said she gonna rob this fucking house, Wonder? We just letting anybody up in this bitch now, huh? Fuck security clearance and safety now, right?”

“Nah, don’t be shy now… what you be reading about?” “Fucking,” she blurted.

“Nah, I like to do the spicy shit that you be reading about in books.”

Navy Bleu was trouble.

“We making diss tracks for niggas now!” Greene’s ass jumped up out the chair with her spliff in her hand. I laughed. “Nah, we healing and moving on… letting the best kind of love find us,”

“Nothing fake about how I’m staring at you, Bleu. At least I’m honest and upfront about my shit.”

Her scent was etched into my brain like a memory that I would never forget. One that would always remind me of her and the scent she wore.

“Kiss me again, please,” she pleaded with me. With one hand, I held her waist and then I kissed her lips softly. “Tell me when to stop.” “Don’t ever stop,”

“Cry on my shoulder… burden me with your tears because I can tell it’s not something you do often. Allow me to hold you because you don’t want anyone else to hold you. Give me that.”

“Why?” “Because I know how it feels to not want to be a burden.”

“I can’t afford another broken heart, Landon. I’ve patched myself up too many times already. You’re a man that gets whatever you want and leaves a trail of wreckage behind. I don’t want to be another name or another unfinished story you forget to end.”

It was crazy that I had ran into Navy twice and I still didn’t have her number. I mean, I could get the shit easily, but that was creepy, and I wasn’t trying to go that way with her. I wanted her number because she gave it to me, not because I went and got it myself. I wanted the cameras to her buildings because she trusted me to hack her building and gain access, not because I knew I could easily.

Bitch hurt my damn feelings and then had the nerve to want to sit and talk about the shit.

Shit, I wanted to be the man who made her happy. Gave her the world because I knew nobody had ever cared enough to give it to her. It was hard for me to feel and give someone all of me. The moment I did, and they did some sucka shit, I always regretted the shit.

Had I told her I was gonna post up in her shit without leaving, I would be all types of creeps and can’t let go, but she could tell me she wasn’t giving me my space, and I was supposed to be chill about it.

Giving a fuck hurt more than people liked to admit.

The wet dreams I continued to have about Landon Caselli should have been a crime.

Landon Caselli was art.

When he asked to sit next to me at Kennedy’s dinner, I had to do a double take. I knew like hell a book bae from my kindle didn’t emerge in real life.

He stood there like he had been hand carved by God himself. His muscles and silence both had a presence of their own, even with him dressed casually. His skin was beautiful. That rich caramel that gets dripped around your ice coffee before the coffee gets poured in. His tattoos told a story that I was more interested in than my kindle at that moment.

He hadn’t told one single lie, and I guess that was the reason for his cockiness. Landon Caselli knew who he was.

Don had the kind of dick that would have you looking for him in the daytime with a flashlight, and a bitch ain’t never had dick that good.

I was staring at him like I would pop out of a jar of relaxer if this nigga gave this dick to someone else. Still, I had to play it cool because no attachments. Right?

Navy was smoking fucking blue magic if she thought we were strangers after the way I fucked her. She was crazy if she thought I wasn’t going back in again and again, and then again after that.

The kind of pussy she had, she could walk around slapping bitches because she felt like it. And if she ever decided to start, I would be right there, making sure a bitch didn’t even blink.

All that no attachments and stranger shit went out the window when she bit my shoulder.

She was a part of me now, and now I needed her Social Security number so I could add her to my health insurance. Needed them teeth strong, so when I slid her back onto this dick her teeth could take it.

“Same rules apply for you. Find out you fucking somebody else, I’m gonna have a death certificate sent to their crib.”

“You said you hate your fucking brother and want him to die… shit fucked up.”

“We friends.” “Yeah, I know what friends be like… friends be breaking backs and shit. Don’t think I don’t know.” “I don’t fucking think you do. You married your victim.” “She wasn’t no fucking victim… just a thief.”

“Cause that fucking serial killer is still on the loose and you’re a woman out in the world alone. I’m the kind of man, and have been raised by one, who protects women. Not every nigga thinks like that, so I need to protect mine.”

It was the way she snickered when I called her mine that told me she wanted to eventually be mine. It was a fear that stopped her from wanting to tell me that she would eventually want more. To her, it was easier to just be friends and see where things went, and I had to admit that was best for us right now.

There was no pressure to be perfect. We could just be without all the politics of dating. I didn’t know the rules when it came to dating because I purposely never dated...

They ain’t even know with the way I was wrapped around Navy, I was about to fuck around and give her my last name, make her a billionaire, and retire the whole fucking family.

When I told myself I was going to enjoy the summer and live, I didn’t think that meant fucking a billionaire.

Fuck want; I needed her to tell me this shit was mine.

I’d fuck around and wipe a nigga’s grandmama’s account clean and put the family’s house in foreclosure fucking around with mine.

You ever wanted something so bad that you were scared? Not because you knew it was a mistake, but because you didn’t want to hear the wrong thing.

To be Caribbean was to know that no matter how hot it was outside, you were gonna have some soup.