Unbeknownst to Cristal, Hugo and Mesha had some history back in the days, pretty much fucking their brains out before she got with Pike. Now she worked for him in his club making good money, and she still felt attracted to him.
“What happened between us?” Mesha asked.
“It was a fling,” replied Hugo nonchalantly.
“It was more than a fling to me. I was really feeling you, Hugo,” she said.
“Yeah, you liked me so much that you got with that ball player and cut me off.”
“I didn’t love him like I loved you,” she lied. “I thought about you every day, Hugo. I missed you so much that it was hard to live without you.”
“Well, things have changed.”
“I didn’t want it to change,” she admitted.
Hugo smirked.
“You ever think about me? About us? What we could have been together?” she asked.
“You know I’m in a relationship, Mesha.”
“And? You’re a handsome and fine-lookin’ man, Hugo, and you’re allowed to have some fun. I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” she said seductively.
Mesha moved closer to him and continued her brazen flirting, knowing he had been dealing with Cristal. She wasn’t afraid of Cristal or anyone in her crew. They had jumped Sharon, and Cristal didn’t do shit.
Mesha positioned herself on his desk. She looked at him with desire, and enticed the man by pushing aside her thong and ramming three fingers into her loose, sloppy twat. She started fucking herself while seated on his desk with her legs spread. Hugo watched. He didn’t attempt to stop her. Mesha shoved those same fingers in her mouth and sucked them, tasting her juices.
Hugo found himself unbuttoning his pants with Cristal out of his mind. He was horny and wanted a taste of Mesha’s brown sugar. She wasted no time kneeling between his legs and giving him head. She grabbed his erection and started stroking it, making it leak pre-cum. Hugo moaned from her pleasing touch. Her small hands felt so good around his thick, black cock. She licked the salty treat and told him how good he tasted. Mesha took the mushroom head in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. Hugo closed his eyes and threw his head back against the high-backed leather chair and could barely control himself. She went down on him slowly, licking and sucking with painstaking precision. Mesha made sure to get every big black inch wet with her mouth and tongue, sucking it expertly with her lips.
She moaned and slobbered all over his dick and fingered her pussy at the same time. Hugo moaned loudly. He looked down at Mesha sucking his dick, her full lips wrapped around his dark meat, her head bobbing up and down. He grabbed her dark hair and twisted it in his hand and shoved her mouth down on his dick, making her choke and gag on it. He held her head down into his lap for a moment, seeing how good she was at deep-throating, and Mesha was able to hold her own. She cupped his balls and massaged them in her soft hands.
As her pussy leaked, Hugo continued to fuck her throat hard and deep. Mesha loved the roughness with her mouth, as he slapped her face and called her a stupid bitch. She wanted more and it turned him on. She wanted to taste his cum.
“You like that?” Hugo asked.
Mesha nodded and moaned on his dick. She looked up into his eyes and saw the pleasure in his face. Seeing him succumb to her oral pleasures made her pussy tweak. She started humming on his dick, sending vibrations up his spine and talking dirty. Hugo loved it. He missed the way Mesha got freaky with him.
Hugo grabbed her head one last time and started moving it up and down on his dick, fucking her throat, treating his dancer like she was a cheap prostitute. She sucked and hummed on his balls, jerked him off, spit on the tip of his dick, and swallowed, deep throating him and stroking him like a porn star would. It drove Hugo insane until he couldn’t hold it anymore and erupted inside of her mouth. Mesha held his dick steady between her lips, jerking him off as his white, creamy fluids slid down her throat and she took in every last drop.
Hugo sat deflated in his chair.
Mesha smiled and got up from her knees and wiped her mouth. “Just imagine, you fuck wit’ me and you can get that every night, baby.”
Hugo didn’t respond. He had to collect himself for a moment and let Mesha’s sexual offer simmer in his mind. It was a tempting proposal. When it came to head, Mesha was the best. Cristal was the woman he loved, but they were having their differences, especially with her constantly leaving to handle business out of town. With her being in L.A., Hugo didn’t know what to think of the situation. It was conflicting, and this was the moment where he felt he could have his cake and eat it too.
He looked at Mesha and smiled. Staring at her curvy, brown figure made him grow an erection again. Her bald pussy was eye-catching. He licked his lips. “You ready for round two?”
“What you think?” she responded with a sly smile.
Mesha got butt-naked in his office, still standing erect in her spike stilettos, and bent herself over on his desk, her legs wildly spread, ass in the air and ready for his hard entry. Hugo stepped out of his jeans and positioned himself behind her to fuck her in the doggy-style position. Hugo grabbed a condom and briefly considered doubling up.
He wanted to forget about Cristal for a moment, and he did that by sliding his big dick into the next bitch.
Twenty-Nine
The Cristal Clique crew arrived at LAX international airport early that afternoon, and they were ready to get down to business. There was still tension between Cristal and Tamar, and Mona picked up on it. She held herself reserved from her best friends and decided not to get into the drama between them. Mona had acquired a peaceful and monkish life outside of her killing career, and reading and growing her plants gave her a peace of mind from the bloodshed.
The Commission wanted this hit to send out a gruesome message. They wanted it to be bloody and gory. The Dinkins brothers had to die a violent death. The cartel wanted the brothers dead within a twenty-four hour window.
The girls were met with a connector who greeted them outside of the terminal. They piled into a dark minivan and cruised west on the 405 Highway. It was their first time in L.A., and the West Coast culture was totally different from their home in the East. Sunny California was a beautiful place with towering palm trees and year-round warm weather, but now wasn’t the time to sightsee and act like tourists. The driver of the minivan was of Mexican descent. He had dark hair and a dark goatee, cold eyes, and a strong Spanish accent. He welcomed the girls to L.A. and immediately got down to business.
“I hear good things about y’all. They say youse girls are good at killing,” the driver said.
The girls didn’t respond. They weren’t ones to socialize with anyone, but it felt good to hear that their reputation was out there. It was what Cristal wanted, the fierce brand of being deadly contract killers. She wanted notoriety in the business, and it was happening. She was desperate to add another notch to her belt.
The minivan headed toward East Los Angeles, and in the back of the van was a classic Army heavy machine gun M249 MK II AEG M60, with a full metal magazine. It was a nasty weapon, able to shred men in half. It fired at a dazzling speed of over four hundred feet per second, and delivered eight hundred rounds per minute.
The girls got themselves situated at a local motel in East Los Angeles, off the 405 Expressway. Their trip to L.A. was to be short—kill these brothers and be back on a plane to New York by the next day. The cartel wanted outside killers because the brothers were cautious and were always heavily armed. They wouldn’t expect females to be gunning for them.
Cristal advised a plan for the hit while they lounged in the seedy motel room. Since the brothers were cautious and drove around in bulletproof vehicles, she suggested that they strike head on. Everyone thought it was a crazy plan, but she figured out a way to strike when their guard would be down. She told them what she wanted to do, and there was a slim possibility of it
working out.
As Cristal suggested, they hijacked a police vehicle, disarmed and stripped the officers, one male and one female, of their clothing, shields and guns. They didn’t kill the cops, but kept them captive at an isolated warehouse on the outskirts of L.A. Their marked car and uniforms would become useful. The clock was winding down, every minute was critical.
Mona and Tamar were sent out to tail the brothers at their stash house in East L.A. The dilapidated one-story stash house on the gang-infested block was surrounded by gang members and armed goons. Mona and Tamar sat parked inconspicuously on the block, watching the heavy activity out front. Once the brothers were on the go, Mona and Tamar were to call Cristal and their Mexican liaison.
Two massive men swathed with gang tattoos and battle scars exited the stash house carrying a large duffel bag. Rawls and Fred “Baby” Dinkins looked like heavy hitters and stone-cold killers. The two got into an idling armored black-on-black Escalade and drove off. Tamar made the phone call to inform Cristal that the targets were in motion and they were in pursuit.
It was time to put their plan into action.
The two gang members and their goon were pulled over by the marked police car with its flashing lights on a busy L.A. boulevard late in the evening. As predicted, the men pulled to the side on the instruction of Cristal and the Mexican pretending to be police officers. Rawls was behind the wheel, his brother was riding shotgun in the passenger seat, and one of their henchman was riding in the backseat. They scowled at the police stop. Rawls removed his pistol from his waistband and was ready to blast on police, but his brother warned him to play it cool. He thought it was just a routine stop.
Cristal and her Mexican counterpart exited the police car looking legit in the uniforms. Fortunately for Cristal, she and the female cop she’d stolen the uniform from were somewhat the same size. They approached the Escalade with their hands on their holstered weapons. Cristal went toward the passenger while her accomplice went to approach the driver.
“License and registration,” he asked Rawls.
“What the fuck ya pulled us over for?” Rawls hissed.
“You ran that stop sign a few blocks back,” the Mexican explained, keeping his cool and playing the role of a police officer to the fullest.
“What?”
“License and registration please,” he asked again in a more stern tone.
Cristal keenly examined inside the vehicle with her peripheral vision while remaining emotionless and keeping cool. She could smell weed lingering. The men inside were edgy. They looked like they were ready to pull out and kill two cops. But her Mexican friend played his part well and was on point. He brought the foul-smelling weed to their attention and instructed all the passengers to step out of the car. When the men didn’t want to play ball, he lifted his police radio from off his shoulder and was ready to call in backup. Reluctantly, all three passengers followed his command.
The parked minivan three cars down observed everything and were waiting on the right moment to attack. Tamar assembled the lethal machine gun and waited for the signal. Mona was behind the wheel of the idling vehicle.
Cristal and the Mexican were able to get them out of the armored SUV and had them lined up by the back of the truck with minor traffic going by observing it all. Rawls and his brother cursed and disapproved of their vehicle being searched, but he was sure the officers wouldn’t find anything. He had placed all handguns and any illegal contraband into a stash box that only he knew how to open. He stood with a smirk across his face, mocking the cops.
“Man, fuck ya mark-ass police, this some fuckin’ bullshit. Pig-ass muthafuckas!” Fred “Baby” exclaimed loudly.
Cristal warned them, but they continued their disrespect. Cristal decided it was time to give the signal. She looked Tamar and Mona’s way and touched her badge. The minivan sped forward while she and the Mexican made sure to be out of the way of gunfire. The minivan came to a screeching stop where the brothers and their goon were lined up; the side door of the minivan slid back and the heavy machine gun protruded. Tamar quickly opened fire on all three men.
The men didn’t even know what hit them. Loud machine gunfire roughly pierced the air on the bustling boulevard, and eight hundred rounds per minute went tearing into the victims, violently shredding them apart. They were cruelly executed—blood, and flesh and brain matter spewing everywhere from the SUV to the ground. The men collapsed to street, their bodies torn in half and contorted by the vicious assault, while several witnesses nearby hurried for cover and safety in an undignified way.
Cristal and the Mexican hurriedly jumped into the minivan and sped away. Another mission completed. The bloody statement was sent out. The Dinkins brothers were dead. Now it was time for Cristal and her crew to return back to New York. She couldn’t wait to see Hugo again and have a heart-to-heart talk with him. She missed him. She just hoped he missed her just as much.
Her relationship with Tamar was becoming shakier. On their way back to New York several hours later, they argued and beefed with each other. It was obvious egos and jealousy were getting in the way, and Mona felt helpless trying to rekindle the good old times between them. Cristal and Tamar were on the verge of hating each other.
...
When Cristal exited the JFK terminal; she was shocked to see E.P. waiting outside next to his pearl-colored Bentley for her and the girls. He was dressed sharply—as always—in a black suit. He greeted Cristal with a kiss and ignored the other girls. He hadn’t come there for them, only for Cristal. Tamar scowled at Cristal receiving the VIP treatment from him.
“You did good, baby,” E.P. said to Cristal in front of the others.
Cristal smiled. “You already heard?”
“The Commission is pleased with everything. Message well sent.”
Tamar wanted to interject. She disliked that Cristal was getting all the praise from him. Cristal hadn’t done it all alone; she had been the one who fired the shots. But E.P. didn’t care. They were starting to feel invisible. It was all about Cristal, not anyone else.
“I have a surprise for you,” E.P. said.
“You do?” Cristal replied, pretending to be thrilled that he’d come for her. She really wanted to rush home and see Hugo. E.P. walked over to his Bentley and opened the passenger door for Cristal. She looked over at her crew and shrugged. It was selfish of her, but E.P. was the boss. She slid into the seat of the Bentley and she shut the door.
Tamar and Mona were left waiting for a taxi to take them home. They felt like outcasts—all the dangerous work they’d put in, only to be treated as second-rate by Cristal and E.P.
“Fuckin’ asshole!” Tamar uttered.
...
The Bentley pulled away from the curb. They weren’t even out of JFK airport yet when E.P. placed his hand between Cristal’s exposed thighs and moved it upward. He continued to praise her on the job out in California. The gruesome murder had already made national headlines, and the police out there were baffled as to how it all went down.
“You on your way, Cristal,” he said proudly. “The job you performed out there, fuckin’ brilliant. It took balls to pull it off that way.”
“Thanks.”
E.P. looked at her with admiration, but while he complimented her, Cristal’s mind was on Hugo. She yearned to feel his touch against her skin and feel his entry inside of her. But her love for her man would have to be delayed. E.P. was driving Cristal back to his place in the city and he wasn’t hearing no for an answer. He missed her dearly and wanted her to spend the night.
...
Once again, Cristal found herself staring at her naked mirror image in the bathroom. She clutched her cell phone, sighed deeply, and stared at the eight missed calls from Hugo. She’d had to ignore them all while her time was spent fucking E.P. in his penthouse suite.
Guilt overwhelmed her. The nasty shit they had done in
the past several hours had her pussy sore. E.P. was the ultimate freak, being able to fuck for hours. He wasted no time with her once they stepped into his place. He tore Cristal’s clothes from her body, pushed her onto the bed, and started licking and kissing and sucking her brown hole. She ground her ass on his face, pulling her cheeks apart while his tongue buried deep inside of her. The action was making her pussy wet with E.P. being such a dirty muthafucka. He put her in sexual nirvana. Cristal held her legs spread wider as she enjoyed the sensation of her sexy black muthafucka making a feast of her ass.
Despite not being in love with E.P., she was a woman who needed to get fucked and fucked hard. She was desperate to feel every inch of his hard meat rammed into her walls. E.P. had grabbed her hair and pulled it like reigns on a horse and took her pussy from the back.
“Fuck me! Ooooh, fuck me! Fuck me now!” she had cried out.
He had lined up the fat head of his dick with her pussy hole and aggressively penetrated her. Cristal gripped the sheets, feeling her pussy opening wide like a good book. E.P. grabbed her hips and with one fluid, fast motion, he rammed the entire size of his dick deep into her. Cristal had screamed out in pain, but that didn’t stop her from begging for more.
Cristal stood staring at her disheveled image after the intense sexual episode she’d experienced and it made her want to cry. E.P. ravaged her body throughout the night. He would smack her phat ass while pulling her long hair and reach around to her swinging tits. E.P. was too aggressive in the bedroom, treating her tits roughly, pinching her nipples and causing her to moan loudly.
How could she go home to Hugo after what E.P. had done to her body?
E.P. walked into the bathroom naked with his dick swinging from side to side. His chiseled body glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed as he walked behind her. He pulled Cristal into his arms and nestled against her backside, kissing the side of her neck. Once again, he proclaimed his love for her, sending Cristal’s guilt into a whirlwind of emotions.
“You okay?” he asked her.
Murdergram, Part 1 Page 24
