Free Big Juicy Lips by Allison Hobbs Page A

keepsake. Misty laughed. His weed was garbage, but being desperate and running out of time, she called him.
    As expected, Monroe sounded excited to hear from her and agreed to meet her at the court on Parkside Avenue. Fifteen minutes later, Misty watched Monroe and another tall male approach. Monroe was tall—well over six feet, but his buddy had him by a couple inches.
    As the pair grew closer, Misty gasped and covered her mouth. Her heartbeat quickened. The swagger in the other man’s walk, his height and body type, were hauntingly familiar. He reminded her of Shane.
    “What’s good, shawty?” Monroe greeted. His buddy looked a couple years older than Monroe. His attire was fresh, nicely coordinated. His diamond studs were small. Fine as he was, he should have been blinging some rocks.
    “Whassup?” Misty muttered, her eyes fixed on Monroe’s friend. Amazingly, from the jet-black, tight curls on his head, the silky thick eyebrows, to his big, juicy lips, and down to the cleft in his chin, the man was the spitting image of Shane. His complexion was similar to Shane’s, a mixture of brown and red tones; his handsome angular features seemed sculpted from clay.
    “Yo, shawty, I ran out of product, but my cousin has a sweet connect.”
    She looked at Monroe’s cousin and nearly swooned as she marveled at his uncanny resemblance to her deceased lover. Misty swallowed. Her throat was dry; she didn’t trust her ability to communicate with her typical sass and self-assurance.
    “No disrespect to my partner over here.” He nodded toward Monroe. “But my lil’ cuz just got rid of a batch of dirt.”
    “Yo, man, I got the block on smash. My product is dope.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Yeah, you know how I do.” Feigning confidence, Monroe poked out his chest.
    “Fuck outta here. Your shit is dirt. Niggas around here don’t care what they smoke.”
    “That’s real slimy, Cuz. I’m putting you down with shawty and now you trying to disrespect me.” Monroe kicked a pebble in disgust.
    His cousin ignored him and leaned into the driver’s side window. “Obviously, someone looking as fresh as you is used to being pampered. I know you don’t wanna smoke nothing but the best—” His eyes swept away from Misty’s face. He leaned back and checked out the sparkly rims on her truck. “Yeah, I can see you like to live life to the fullest—” He paused, waiting for Misty to react. She nodded. That’s all she could do. Dude was putting his thing down, slaughtering her with his flow, his cocky attitude and his uncanny resemblance to Shane.
    Experiencing a severe attack of pussy palpitations, Misty shifted in her seat. Squishy sounds emanated from her core. She squeezed her legs together, trying to quiet her coochie down, or at least muffle the dick-demanding noise.
    “I have a hook-up with some AK-47. It’s expensive, but it’s worth the high cost.” The Shane lookalike flicked his tongue against his plump, bottom lip, moistening it as he completed the sales pitch.
    Misty breathed in deeply, trying to calm her quaking heart. At her current level of arousal, she didn’t trust herself to successfully pull off flirty and playful, so she cut to the chase. “My name is Misty. Before I do business with you, it would be nice to know your name.” She wanted to sound firm, but her voice came out soft and whispery.
    “Aw, my bad, Lil’ Bit,” he said, spontaneously giving her a pet name. “Let me introduce myself…” He moistened his succulent, russet-colored lips again. “My name is Dane.”
    Dane! Her head began to spin, her pussy walls started closing in. Her clit grew hard, aching and engorged, stretching out like a dick. Misty’s eyes glazed over before she slumped over the steering wheel.
    “What’s wrong? You aiight?” Monroe asked, concern registering in his voice.
    With her head pressed against the steering wheel, Misty shook her head.
    “Do you need some fresh air or something? What’s wrong?”