In the Gray Read Online B.B. Reid

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense, Taboo Tags Authors: B.B. Reid Advertisement

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I inhaled, and right before I let the air go, I knew what my answer would be. “No.”

I was running hella late when I finally pulled into work almost an hour later.

Atlas thought I was crazy before, but she hadn’t really seen anything—not until she tried me this morning.

We ended up tussling over her stuff from one room to the next until it ended with me throwing her shit all over the backyard and in my pool while she screamed at me to stop and called me every name but a child of God.

I’m sure the neighbors had gotten more than an earful.

For the first time since I left home, I glanced to my right and saw Atlas still pouting and fuming silently in the passenger seat.

Fuck, she was pretty.

I had no idea what the fuck she was so upset about, though. I was the one with a black eye and busted lip. She didn’t even have a fucking scratch on her.

Secretly, I wore that shit like a badge of honor. I didn’t want my girl to be afraid of me, and it made my dick and heart proud that she wasn’t. There were grown men twice her size who couldn’t say the same.

I touched my lip and winced as much from the memory of the mean slug she’d hit me with as from the pain of the wound itself.

“I’ll be back before lunch,” I announced as I watched her. “Maybe we can grab some food on your break.”

Atlas resembled a damn psychopath when her head slowly turned my way like she was Annabelle or some shit. She was looking at me like she wanted to disembowel me. “Aww, that’s sweet. Eat a dick. I’d rather chew my arm off than talk to you.”

“That’s okay, Dream. I’ll still fuck with you with one arm.”

My baby spat a string of curses and insults that would make the devil blush before shoving her door open and leaving my car. I thought about running her ass over when she slammed my damn door closed, but I refrained since I knew she’d probably never fuck me again if I did.

I waited until she disappeared inside the shop before speeding off the property and back into heavy traffic. I reached my destination on the south end of King’s Cross just before you crossed into the Battery. King’s Cross was the second roughest part of town—Unity Garden being the first—and the place I’d first called home before my parents decided they wanted better for me and moved us to the suburbs.

Sunnyside was known around Idlewild as the Black suburbia since that was where all the well-to-do Black folks moved as soon as they came across a little money.

Maryle was the same, except it was mostly White people upgrading from the high rises in the inner city or escaping the Nine Hills bikers who ran Hilltop.

The two suburbs were separated by Midtown, Unity Garden, and King’s Cross. KC used to be called Third Ward until Joren, Roc, Golden, and I took over. The interstate ran directly through it from all four directions, so if any player wanted to move their product in and out of town, they had to go through us, hence the name King’s Cross.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Giselle greeted me as soon as I got out of my car. Despite how cold it was, she was standing on her stoop in blue cotton shorts that looked more like panties, with her arms crossed over her braless chest covered by a thin tank top and a pink bonnet on her head.

Knowing what type of time she was on, I sighed and rubbed my brow. I know I promised Atlas I’d be good, but I didn’t expect to be put to the test this soon. I didn’t have a type, but if I did, it would be girls like Giselle.

Hoodrats were my fucking weakness.

They gave the best head, and I could get my dick sucked without them thinking they were my girl just because they made me come. They were just trying to survive from one day to the next and understood the game. Every encounter was transactional rather than emotional. They took what they needed from men and kept it pushing. But most importantly, they played their fucking position.

Clout chasers—suburban private-school princesses like Savannah, who’d had the world handed to them on a platter—expected me to fall at their feet just because they looked good and had okay pussy. They were shallow, couldn’t hold a real conversation for shit, and were the easiest to use. They were doormats, willing to do whatever I wanted because they were either looking for a thrill, wanting to piss off their rich fathers, or thinking it would make me wife them.

And then there were girls like Atlas.

Head in the clouds. Sheltered. Naive. Young. They demanded the fucking world based on absolutely nothing and couldn’t fuck without getting their feelings involved. I’d always stayed far away from her kind.

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