Sexy Little Liar

by Noire

  I frowned right back at his ass. Peaches could be a real buster sometimes. He was just like somebody’s grandmama. He had practically raised me and Bunni from the time we were thirteen years old, and even though I was hardheaded and couldn’t nobody tell me shit, when Peaches spoke I usually listened.

  Usually. But not this time.

  “C’mon, now, P,” I whined. “Get wit’ it! Me and Bunni worked like crazy down there in hot-ass Texas! Shiiit, we deserve to floss! Don’t worry, I’ma get straight with everybody I owe, but a bitch just turned twenty-one and it’s my time to shine, ya feel me?”

  Peaches smirked. “I feel Punchie’s fist busting you in ya mouth, that’s what I feel. But go ’head witcha grown-ass self. I know one thing, you and Bunni better keep a real tight count on all that money, you hear? Or y’all gonna look up one day and find every single dime of it gone.”

  It took about an hour for our limo to show up, and by that time me and Bunni had already fought over the mirror in the tiny bathroom and slid our luscious bodies into our very best gear. We pranced down the pissy staircase and outta that raggedy-ass tenement like we were tipping out of a mansion, and when I peeped the shiny stretch limo at the curb and the bangin’ dude who was pushing it, I just couldn’t keep the grin off my face.

  Our driver was tall and fine and looked like a pussy-killer dressed up in a suit. His eyes were popped open just as wide as mine were, and he started drooling the moment he got a good look at the package I was holding.

  “Ooh-wee!” he exclaimed as me and Bunni pranced outta the building. “What’s your name, baby?”

  “Mink.” I giggled and smoothed the top of my perfect-peach Glama-Glo wig. “Mink Minaj.”

  The heat in his eyes burnt up the tassels on my peach and purple go-go skirt as I switched my freaky hips toward his gleaming ride.

  “Yeah, you got that Nicki groove on lock,” he growled, eyeballing my cleavage like he was a vampire kitten who wanted to suck my milk. “But your back pockets is even fatter than hers.”

  I giggled and made sure he got a good look at my plump yellow thighs as I slid onto the plush leather seat. I was used to turning dudes on, and fucking with their heads was nothing but a big game to me. It was all part of my hustle, and I didn’t care if a man was in high school or strapped down to a bed in a nursing home, if he had swole pockets then his ass was a mark in my book, and I hit him upside the head with my wicked sex appeal every chance I got.

  Dude had just slammed the car door when a shiny-black psycho wearing a doo-rag tied over his cornrows bust outta the front door of the building eyeing me like he was an assassin. My heart banged in my chest. It was crazy Punchie Collins. He was a local drug-slanga that I had ganked for about a grand. Word that I was back in town musta gotten back to him, and I could tell by the way he was grilling me that he wanted his cash.

  “Yo, whattup!” he hollered, holding his hands up high in the air and shooting me gang signs as he eyeballed our flashy setup. “Yo, I see you got whips and mad jewels and new rags . . . but where the fuck my package at, Mink?”

  “I see you, Punchie!” I hollered out the window and fronted him off. “I got you, boo!” I winked and gave his throwed-off ass two thumbs-up. “Be’lee that, papi. I’ma tear you off and treat you right!”

  And I was too. I was gonna pay off Punchie Collins, take care of my court costs, pay the bill on Gutta’s storage so they wouldn’t auction all his shit off, and then find me a way to flip the rest of my money and make it last a long, long time. Yeah, all that shit was definitely gonna happen, I told myself as the limo pulled away from the curb and Punchie launched a round of hot bullets outta his eyes, but first I was gonna get my head right and do Mizz Mink Minaj tonight!

  Me and Bunni were back on our old stomping grounds! One hundred and twenty-fifth Street was still live as hell and Club Wood was still the place to be! We rode in the whip with the music blastin’ and the sexy driver rappin’ us a hot stripper song by that rowdy Reem Raw.

  Lil Mama I can see it in ya eyes we can ride if you ready to roll!

  I got the Caddy double-parked outside we can slide if you ready to go!

  The way she grind pop it back, make it wind

  Got my mind goin’ outta control . . .

  Other bitches they don’t wanna see you shine

  She get by ’em when she droppin’ it low!

  I just wanna see you take it down lowerrr!

  Break it down!

  Let them haters see you make it roll overrr!

  Break it down!

  It ain’t nothing these other bitches can show her

  She the shit ,and she know it, but I’ma show her just how to

  Break down!

  Our limo pulled up directly outside the front door, and me and Bunni got ready to make our grand entrance at the strip club where we used to trick off customers, swindle squares, and dominate butter bitches on the poles.

  “Wait!” I slapped Bunni’s hand as she reached over to open her door. “Don’t get out yet! You know them fools are probably peeping all out the damn windows,” I stunted. “You gotta learn how to floss your shit properly, Bunni. Let’s chill for a few minutes and give these niggas a chance to appreciate our status, ya heard?”

  With the music blasting, we sat in the back of the limo and got tipsy on the bottle of liquor that came with the ride, and even though he wasn’t supposed to be doing no drinking on the job, our fine ass driver tossed back a few right along with us.

  “Them pole bitches ain’t gonna believe it’s us,” Bunni squealed when we finally slithered outta the whip about ten minutes later. Just like I predicted, faces was pressed up all against the front window as the strippers and hoes tried to figure out which rich celebrity baller was about to bless Club Wood with his pocket stash tonight.

  I cracked up at all the hater eyes that swept over us as we walked through the door. These hoes were disappointed as hell that it was me and Bunni rollin’ in instead of two paid-out-the-ass NBA ballers looking for a lap dance and a little bit of licky-lick.

  “Mink!” my fake-friend Punanee ran over and tried to hug me like she was glad to see me back. Punanee thought she was the shit because she used to headline on the main stage over at the G-Spot, but I couldn’t stand her ass. “Girl where y’all been? Niggas been asking about your ass for weeks! I been showing off your double-hump moves and wracking up on all your customers, honey!”

  I shook Punanee off as the crowd parted to let me and Bunni get to the bar. That trick could keep my damn customers. Mizz LaRue was paid now, and all that ass shaking and pole humping was in the past for me. Uh-uh. I was done with that type of physical labor. Didn’t no self-respecting daughter of Viceroy and Selah Dominion have to grind her pussy around up on no stage and make it rain for her greenbacks no more. Hell, nah. I was a Dominion now, and I was real proud to say that me and my rich play-daddy down in Dallas was just alike. Both of us had gotten our paper the easy way.

  We stole it!

  CHAPTER 4

  Kelvin Merchant liked to make it hurt. Especially when he could do it on the sneak tip. Secret sexual sadism brought him the utmost erotic pleasure, and the agonizing thrill of the leather scrotum-scruncher that he had twisted tightly around the base of his fuzzy nuts had him erect and moaning and squirming all over his work stool.

  Exclusively DNA was one of the busiest labs in town. Kelvin was responsible for a high volume of genetic testing, and he was sitting at the counter rubbing his throbbing erection and trying his best to formulate the summary of a report when suddenly the front door of the lab burst open and a raging black ass-kicking stormed in.

  “Mr. Dominion!” Kelvin stammered and leaped nimbly to his feet. Despite the sweet pain that pulsated in his groin, the look of fury in Barron Dominion’s dark eyes made Kelvin’s erection go limp. He stared at the handsome, athletic-looking rich man, and as his fat cheeks jiggled in fear and surprise, the memory of the beat-down ol’ boy had put on him was fresh in his mind.


  “Mr. Dominion, my black ass,” Barron spit as he strode up to the counter and leaped over that shit like he was a regular gangsta from the streets.

  Kelvin put his fat hands up to fend off the brutal blow he knew was coming. He liked pain, but the last thing he wanted was another head-butt from this fool, and he knocked over his stool as he stumbled backward trying to get out of range.

  “Now what was all that bullshit you were talking on the phone?” Barron got up in his face and demanded as the pain freak standing in front of him trembled in fear.

  “It’s not b-b-bullshit,” Kelvin stuttered. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but we were sent another DNA specimen from a lab in Philadelphia. A man named Sam George called and told me to look out for it. He said it was just a routine test, and he told me not to bother you with the results. But I ran it personally. I ran it twice. And just like the sample we ran on Mink LaRue, this one came back a positive match for your sister Sable too. I thought you would wanna know about it.”

  “Yo, hold the fuck up,” Barron said. He took a small step backward and shook his head. “Who the hell submitted a sample from way in Philly? We made it a rule that all DNA tests have to be performed right here in this lab.”

  Kelvin nodded quickly. “That’s right. The testing has to be performed here. But Sam George had the sample collected in Philly and then sent to us by express courier. I’m sorry, Mr. Dominion, but whoever this girl is, her DNA is a perfect match for your missing sister Sable.”

  Barron felt his blood get hot. He knew exactly what time it was, and he wasn’t up for no more games. Scheming tricksters! There was no way in fuck that the DNA from two different girls could both come up a match for Sable’s, and since Barron truly believed his adopted little sister was long dead and long buried, then that meant somebody’s slick ass was lying. Or maybe even two somebodies.

  Pilar Ducane rolled up to the gates of the Dominion Estate in her custom-designed luxury Lexus coupe. Spritzed in a light cloud of Chanel No. 5, her lace-front weave perfectly framed her face and she tapped one expertly manicured fingernail on the steering wheel as she waited for the huge, ornate gates to slide open.

  She glanced at the car’s center console as her cell phone rang and the display lit up. Her so-called fiancés name and number flashed on the screen and she pushed the decline button and smirked as she rolled her eyes. No matter how raggedy her life was right now, Ray was such a buster that he was the last person she wanted to talk to.

  While it was true that the cunning Dallas diva had been knocked down by her father’s recent financial troubles, she damn sure wasn’t knocked out. No matter what angle you approached Pilar from she was sharp as a sword. From head to toe, every single detail of her attire had been selected with the utmost taste and elegant attention, and the total cost of today’s ensemble, including her authentic designer handbag, was well over twenty grand.

  Pilar drove through the gates and parked her whip right outside the mansion’s front door. She’d gotten a crazy phone call from her adopted cousin, Barron, and the cockamamie story he’d told her had her bottom lip twisted with anger and envy.

  Mink LaRue.

  That slimy bitch was still trying to run game. Why that sleazy Harlem hoodrat couldn’t get hit by a city bus or fall in front of a goddamn subway train was a freakin’ mystery. Pilar was family, and Mink was a fraud. There was no way in hell she should have been riding around broke and busted while Mink dug her fingers deep down in the family cookie jar. Pilar had always thought of herself as a ruthless and cunning go-getter, but after watching a professional slicksta like Mink sashay away with a nice slice of the Dominion fortune stuck up her ass, Pilar knew it was time for her to tighten up her hustle and get her own game back up to par.

  As the spoiled daughter of Selah’s brother Digger Ducane, Pilar wasn’t used to coming in second best to anybody, and she damn sure wasn’t used to being denied anything she had set her eye on. Her father had been one of Dominion Oil’s largest contractors, and Pilar had been raised in the lap of luxury, that is, until the economy fell off and took Digger’s once-prosperous oil transport business right down a shit-hole with it.

  Almost overnight Pilar had gone from splurging on clothes, jewels, and every other luxury item a beautiful high-society diva could ask for, to having her credit cards melting at every store in town. Pilar had cried and blamed her father for damn near sending them to the poorhouse but, she silently admitted as a servant opened the mansion’s front door and she stepped inside the cool, elegant parlor, she had blamed her super-rich relatives too. The goddamn Dominions. They had a shitload of money and Pilar was dying to get her hands on their cash and their last name too.

  And to make sure she got both of those things, Pilar had worked herself up a real slick plan. She’d always been moist between the legs for her fine-ass cousin Barron, and since he had been adopted by the Dominions when he was a baby and wasn’t really blood family, she saw nothing wrong with laying her whip appeal on him every chance she got. She’d already sent Barron’s sniveling white fiancée, Carla, running out the door, and if it went down the way Pilar schemed for it to go down, Barron was gonna forget he’d ever known that skinny white bitch and put a big fat ring on the luscious ba-donka-donk that Pilar was laying on him.

  Yeah, all the fuck-me flirting and the horny little sexcapades that Pilar had been pulling on Barron had been working like a charm. That is, until some New York skeezer named Mink LaRue showed up outta nowhere and dropped a big load of urban shade on her bright Texas shine.

  “Trifling bitch!” Pilar muttered under her breath. Her heels click-clacked on the stone floors as she strode through the large sitting area and headed toward Barron’s office. Somehow Mink had schemed herself into the exact position that Pilar had been aiming for—wearing the Dominion last name—and not only had her aunt Selah fallen for the girl’s fake-ass act, Barron’s horny eye had zoomed in on her big, thunked-out ghetto booty too.

  It was pitiful, Pilar thought, the way brainless chickens like Mink had nothing but the shape of their asses to fall back on. Barron was a real smart dude, and he was used to being around some of the most beautiful women in the state of Texas. But there was something about that funktified skank Mink that had put a mean rock in his stuffy silk drawers. Yeah, he tried to hide it and he was way too bougie to admit he wanted to fuck her, but Pilar knew lust when she saw it, and her cousin B, the rich dude that she was trying her best to hook up with for life, was lusting like hell after his adopted sister Mink.

  Just thinking that shit made Pilar get evil, and she couldn’t keep the wicked glint out of her eyes or the smirk off her lips when she walked into Barron’s office and closed the door, then sat down across from his desk and crossed her sexy legs.

  “Now tell me that story again,” she demanded as her cousin glanced up from a document he was reading. The look in Barron’s handsome dark eyes went from surprised to seduced in two seconds flat. Pilar giggled inside. This nigga was sprung. Smelling her vapors. His gaze roamed all over Pilar’s deliciously shaped frame, and she knew he was remembering that bomb jockey hump she had put on him just two days ago.

  “It’s just like I said on the phone,” Barron said slowly as his eyeballs roamed up and down her shapely legs, “I got a call from the DNA lab. They claim they’ve got another match for Sable’s DNA. It came from a girl somewhere in Philadelphia. That’s all I know.”

  “See, I knew it!” Pilar shrieked and jumped to her feet. Her firm breasts jiggled beneath the fine fabric of her short Pucci dress, and she saw Barron’s eyes zoom toward her erect nipples. She walked over to him and perched her heart-shaped ass on the edge of his huge wood desk. Everything in Barron’s office was sleek and polished and required maintenance, and Pilar knew she fit right in.

  “I told you that bitch Mink was lying! Her scheming ass was lying the whole damn time. I knew she wasn’t Sable right from the jump. That chick didn’t have me faded for a minute!”

  “Ye
ah, Mink is definitely a fraud, and some shady shit is definitely up,” Barron agreed. “And she’s stupid too. You just can’t have two sets of DNA come up a match for one person. That shit is impossible. But on the real, whoever this Philly girl is, she must be scheming too.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Barron shrugged and stood up. He looked like a million dollars coated in creamy milk chocolate, and he was worth a whole lot more than that. He thrust his hands down in the pockets of his William Fioravanti suit and shook his head.

  “Sable is dead, Pilar. If you ask me, she’s been dead. Probably since the day she got snatched. All of this searching we’ve been doing for her, and all this head banging and fighting off her wannabes . . . It ain’t been nothing but a waste of time and money. I’ve been looking for a way to break it to my moms that there can’t be any real DNA match out there for Sable, because there is no Sable out there! Not anymore. For real, my sister is dead. Gone.”

  Pilar slid her butt off the edge of the desk and stepped up closer to her cousin. Her nose was level with the knot in his tie, and she inhaled the very rare scent of his ultra-expensive Clive Christian’s Imperial Majesty and swallowed hard.

  “Well if you thought Sable was dead then why in the hell did you let Mink get away with all her inheritance money? Hell! I could have used that mo—” she started, and then bit her tongue and walked her mouth back. “I mean, the family could have used that money on other stuff.”

  “See there.” Barron grinned and slid his big hands around her tight waist. He knew damn well Pilar was supposed to be off limits, but ever since he had broken up with Carla, his cousin had been sliding all over his dick like syrup on a pancake stack. “That’s where you’re wrong, Pilar. I knew Mink was gaming, but she had my moms blinded. It didn’t matter what kind of charges I brought on the girl, or what I could prove, Mama just didn’t care. She said she blamed herself for how Mink’s life turned out, so whatever grimy shit Mink did couldn’t have been her own fault.”