Page 3 of His Favorite Felon

Ouch.

My ass met the dirt immediately.

The third time, I jumped and grabbed the top of the gate. I must have gained more weight than I realized, because I was struggling to pull myself up.

A voice called out, “Aye, all you had to do was press the call button and ask. I would have let you in.”

It sounded familiar, but I was too focused on my goal to notice.

I looked around, still holding on to the gate for dear life. There was no one around me, and that’s when I noticed the call box. I was too tired to care about being embarrassed. I released my grip, jumped down, and made my way over to the box.

“And how long were you watching me?” I asked, placing my hands on my knees. I was breathing heavily, desperately trying to catch my breath.

“Since you turned onto my road.”

“Your road? Is Chance here?”

“Who’s asking?” The deep voice said again.

“His Karma! Now, are you going to open this damn gate, or do I need to jump it? Because I was almost over it, and I’m not leaving until I see his bald-headed ass.”

“You’re crazy as hell, shorty. I’ll let you in, but you have to bring it down a notch, Trouble. Deal?”

I ignored him and the nickname he used, then turned back, got into the car, and waited for the gate to open. When he saw I wasn’t leaving or accepting his foolish offer, he finally opened it. I drove through, parked, got out, and headed toward the house.

A tall, dark-skinned, remarkably handsome man with a physique like a Greek god greeted me. His smug smirk gave me a twinge of embarrassment and sent a shiver down my spine, but I kept going.

Chance. He looked better than I remembered.

His short, tightly coiled hair and well-groomed beard contrasted with how he looked when I was behind bars. Back then, he was clean-shaven, bald, and beardless. He wore a military-style mustache, similar to the classic '90s porn stache often seen among white men or officers.

His tattoos covered his arms and wrapped around his neck, making my mouth water. He leaned against the door frame, watching me come closer. He looked so confident, as if he controlled everything around him. Meanwhile, I wanted to smack the sexy smirk off his face. When we used to fuck around, it was quick and hard, and he was always fully clothed. I didn’t know he was that tatted.

As I approached, a few men came out of the house. They were dressed in black and matched Chance’s muscular build. If Chance was gon’ lie in my face, I was gon’ ask who his friends were. They were fine as fuck, all five of ’em. They didn’t speak to me as they walked past to their vehicles. If I weren’t buzzing with adrenaline, I might be concerned for my safety, but I was solely focused on the situation ahead.

“Trouble. I’m glad you didn’t jump my gate. You would’ve ripped that tight-ass Adidas tracksuit you’re wearing.”

I looked down at my outfit.

Oh, this nigga had jokes.

“No, you’re lucky because I would’ve fucked up some of those bougie-ass plants out here,” I said, pointing to his beautiful garden.

“And when the fuck did you grow your hair out?” I blurted.

He briefly furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before it disappeared. Licking his lips, he drew my attention as I watched him. His gaze shifted from my legs, tracing the curve of my hips up to my chest, until our eyes locked. Standing tall, he placed his hands in his sweatpants pockets, showcasing his impressive print. I couldn’t help but glance, unapologetically.

“How’d you get my address?”

I thought that was a strange question, and it honestly pissed me off even more because he was fucking with me, or was he basically admitting to fucking and writing to multiple inmates?

“When you sent me a letter after you fucked me in my cell,” I said sarcastically. “When you promised we would be together after my release, and that you would be waiting for me outside the gates.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and then smirked. It was quick, and it didn’t last long.

“So what’s up, you gon let me in or not?”

I pushed past him and entered, since it seemed as if a cat had his tongue. I was in awe once I stepped in. I thought the outside was gorgeous, but the inside was even more glamorous. I squinted as I surveyed the decor. I knew a bitch had to live here. That idea made my blood boil—the thought of being toyed with again.