Don’t Play With Passion
Prologue
Look at me, lying in a puddle of my blood. Moms always told me that one of these crazy bitches would be the end of me. Now she’d get the chance to say I told you so if I ever survive this. I remember the day she spat those words at me like poison from the fangs of a Black Mamba. She awoke the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Not wanting her to know this, I laughed it off, pretended that what she said did not bother me one bit. She wanted me to get married, have a family, settle down, and become a normal, picture perfect man. Her words went in one ear and straight out the other then circled around to haunt me and try to take my life. I’m not dead yet. I can still hear the footsteps of that bitch in the next room, speeding across the floor. "What in the hell is she doing?" I should have known not to trust a bitch that I couldn’t find wrong in. She fit the description of every man’s wish, a quiet, obedient, dark chocolate, fine as hell, taste like honey, sweet scent traveled miles away, down ass female who act like she hadn’t ever done or seen shit. She was perfect as the Mona Lisa. I never had to ask her to be quiet, or to let me handle the business. She stood behind me and accepted the outcomes. I can’t think of one time that she disrespected or lied to me. I was proud to have her on my team. My mom loved her to death and men continually looked back when they passed her. She paid no attention, clinging on to my arm tighter. Um, that thang she got between her legs, snapping. She is the first to ever make me scream her name doing sex. She’ll get up immediately, getting a towel to wipe me down before I go to sleep, then hopping in the shower herself. No matter how tired she was, she stayed fresh and clean. Damn, I knew she was too good to be true. But she was just too good to let go. My strength is weakening, vision getting blurry, body temperature falling. "Isn’t she going to call for help?" I have no doubts, I know she can...