Syx Thirty Sevyn - "Voluntarily or Involuntarily..."
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You know the drill. This may or may not be snipped, tucked and pieced together to keep key details unwraps. Whatever the case may be, understand that this sample is unedited and may change.
You've been requesting it, so I decided to deliver an entire book dedicated to Syx and her intriguing life. There's even an added bonus. Sevyn tags along in this flirty tale of two sisters navigating their way through New York and trying times that has everything to do with their poor choices in men. Without holding you too long and letting you get to this sneak peek, I want to assure you that there will be a Syx & the City: Situationships Book 3 dropping before this hits Amazon. As well, I have not decided on a release date, but it will be soon.
Now, for you reading pleasure...
Trey’s long legs made it seem as if he’d run to the door, when he’d actually only taken a few steps. I busied myself with finding the perfect brush, waiting for my sister’s loud mouth to come blasting through my door. Yet, I was met with silence before Trey called out to me.
“Syx.” His focus remained forward, never inching from the door or giving me his full attention. “Someo…”
The frustration in his voice was apparent. My train of thought derailed at the sound of it. My chest hiked as I sucked the entire room dry of oxygen. I wasn’t sure if I was coming or going, body overheating and thoughts frosting over.
“Trough Mallard.” Trey repeated, his neck rising and falling. It was obvious that the two were knee deep in an intense stare down.
“Shit. Shit.” I whispered, placing the brushes onto the pallet I’d made and standing.
I nearly toppled over Trey’s project as I was caught by the leg of his easel. The thudding in my chest sounded like an explosive in the dead silence of the night as I landed on the arm of my couch. Collecting myself, I reached the door and pushed it shut before turning to Trey.
“Listen. I’m going to take… take this in the hallway.” I stumbled over my words. “You can continue where you left off. Just… just give me a second. I only need a second.”
Either I was tripping or Trey’s chest had enlarged since the last I’d seen it, which happened to be a few minutes prior. The softness to his face had evaporated and been overshadowed by seriousness.
The rapid and sudden hammering caused me to virtually jump from my own skin. Squinting my eyes, I tried coaxing the anxiety that was creeping up my spine. “Yeah. Yes. I’m sure. Be right back.”
“Alright. Let me know if you need me.”
Nodding, I waited until Trey had gotten his beer and made it into the living room. Snatching my door open and slamming it behind me, I stepped into the hallway with the ugliest scowl on my face. He had some nerve showing up to my place.
“What the fuck are you doing popping up at my house?”
Spit flew from my lips as I yelled into his face, close enough to smell the potency that he sprinkled on his skin each day. I was too afraid to step back, knowing that our creator had molded a masterpiece that made me weak at the knees upon sight. Within close range – as I was – I could hardly make out anything other than his scent.
“Yo, you asking the wrong questions. Who that nigga up in your crib? Answering your door? With his shoes off as if he lives in that bitch!” He pointed towards my door.
Astounded, I’d never witnessed the lack of control he was displaying at the moment. “Syx, you better start explaining some shit because I swear to…”
“You swear what, Trough?” I hadn’t said his name in forever, refusing to acknowledge the power it had over us both. His chest heaved at the sound of it. That single noun dripping from my lips demanded attention, mine and his. “Huh? You’ve got some nerve coming to my house like you running something or acting as if I owe you an explanation for who I decided to keep company with.
Anything that I have going on in there is a direct result of your decisions. You should’ve known this would happen. Who do you think you are that you could have me sitting… waiting… and praying for you to be who I needed? Huh? Whoever it is, you need to come to terms with the fact that you ain’t that nigga. For real!” I sniggered. “Please leave.”
“Syx, I ain’t going nowhere.”
“Like hell you aren’t.”
“If you think so, then you’re sadly mistaken. I got something I need to talk to you about and it can’t wait any longer. So, tell ole boy his time is up and…”
“Bullshit. Ole boy is doing a good job picking up the pieces you left behind and I refuse to…”
I felt as if I had consumed a bucket of alcohol as I felt my body pressed against the wall just outside of my door. Before I could protest, his hand was around my neck, the other slipping down the joggers that I wore and his mouth hovering over mine.
“I’m in love with every part of your stubborn ass and I appreciate you attempting to stand ya ground and call me out on my shit. But,” with no guidance, he was able to find the little nub that sent me over the top. Brushing his hand across it twice, he gloated as my body jolted from the friction he caused. “I need you to pipe down. Continue to be the lady that you are, and never…” He flicked it, again. “Ever,” Flick. “Let me or anyone else cause you to step out of character.”
Flick. “I’ve wanted you since the day that my ex-wife hired you but remained a good, faithful boy until she showed her ass. God told me to be patient. I felt foolish for making her my wife not knowing that you were somewhere out there. I’ve waited and waited, Syx. I can’t wait no longer. I’m not asking for your permission… I’m telling you that we have shit to talk about and it won’t get done with him…” Flick. “in there. Now either you tell him to leave and I come inside…” Flick. “Or you never make it back inside and I take you with me. Voluntarily…” Flick. “Or involuntarily.” Flick. “What do you say?”
There's so much inspiration behind this piece. Find out what inspired me while penning Syx Thirty Sevyn, here.