Coming from a life of drugs, money, and women, Michael "Meechie" Jackson had the world in the palm of his hands. He had power and his business, which he built from the ground up, morphed him into one of the most well-known drug lords in the city.
I...
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It was one of those mornings to wake and bake.
Michael rarely smoked weed; he was more so a cigar type of guy. They made him feel superior—like a king. But when he did have his fair share of Sativa, Kush, Purple Haze, or Indica, he couldn't deny the relaxing high it provided. It was as if he had no care in the world, and according to the way his morning started off, there were none.
Irish egressed the bathroom after her morning routine, bare underneath her pink and gold GUCCI robe. She could smell the miasma of the Sativa through the cracks of the bathroom door. With Michael's hair all dishelved from a good night's rest, his bare back rested against the Baxton Studio Viviana upholstered button-tufted headboard. A huge fume of white was exhaled into the air as Irish crawled onto the bed and straddled his waist. It all started with her planting kisses to the side of his neck, working her way to his razor-sharp jawline with her tongue and leaving a trail of saliva.
When she kissed his lips, she was able to taste the cannabis. The perfectly rolled blunt was back between his lips, relishing the feeling of his woman's lips on his flesh. He loved the way she sucked his neck by leaving her marks to claim what is hers only. A low groan came from the depths of his larynx as he pulled the blunt away to exhale another cloud but through his nostrils. Irish lifted her head and smiled at him, biting her lower lip. She took the blunt from him, catching him off guard by the action and took a couple of pulls herself.
Michael watched how natural smoking was for her when they both knew it was never her thing. Truth is, Irish tried marijuana plenty of times before in college and liked it. It was mostly during Hell Week to help get through the craziness going on to pledge Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc. Come to think of it then, smoking just wasn't her thing, so she stuck with occasional drinking. The only reason why she took the blunt from him on this particular morning is because she wanted to match his level to do what she had in mind and that was to pleasure her man to some bomb ass head. They say high sex is the best sex; she was going to find out.
Removing the blunt between her lips, she blew another cloud but in his face that made him chuckle. She reached toward the end table where the ashtray was and put out the remainder of the blunt and stated seductively, "Focus on me."
He nodded with his eyes following her movements by removing her robe to reveal her naked physique. Irish was too damn sexy, and Michael always made it known. After being with her for nearly a year, it was apparent he had a thing for slim girls now and no desire of ever looking back. The robe was tossed elsewhere as she made her way to his briefs, inserting her fingertips inside the waistband to pull down.
His hips lifted and his erection sprang to life before her eyes. She couldn't wait to deep throat him, and she wasted no time after throwing the undergarments on the floor. The feeling of her hands made his stomach sink in, and the long lick from the base to the tip made his body shudder. He remained focused on her like she told him to. Starting with the tip and cautiously working her way down just enough to devour all of him, the bobbing of her head was slow.
