“But I ain’t mad,” Duke said. “Can’t no normal man keep his dick to hisself when Milan lay on her evil ways. ’Specially yo’ stupid ass. An’ I don’ give a fuck who she screwin’, long as they ain’t ’round my babies.”
Beamer quaked.
“So, B.”
“Yes, Massa Duke.” His voice was all wavery and high pitched like a girl. “You still ma boy.”
Beamer nodded.
“If you wonderin’ why I ain’t gon’ jus’ pop yo’ dumb ass, let me explain. It’s Dominology 101. You gon’ kiss ma ass even mo’ fierce now, ’cause you know, one wrong move an’ you”—Duke raised the last word to a higher octave—“th’ough.” He tossed his head back, laughing, stepping toward Duchess.
In the elevator, she sucked on his neck again, like she did in the car. No girl had ever kissed him like that, making the little muscles under his skin ripple and send sex shocks through his body. Whatever nonsense she was mumbling about in the car, about a sex curse, that was the craziest shit he had ever heard. The only curse she was going to have was liking it so much she would want it twenty-four/seven. She would be tempted not to get anything done because she would always want to be fucking.
He still had to keep an eye on her, though. Yeah, she agreed to work for him, to stay here, but she didn’t have a choice. Those pretty eyes were glowing with scheme, but whatever kind of break-out plan she was thinking, it wouldn’t work. Couldn’t trick The Duke. Beamer, Milan, and his other baby mommas had already tried, along with half the niggas trying to make something happen in Detroit and beyond. So, this white bitch here, his Duchess, the girl he would cherish and protect forever, wouldn’t succeed at whatever she tried.
The elevator rose to the tenth floor, opening onto the sharp-ass black marble hallway of his penthouse. It was all black marble, top, sides, and bottom, with custom lights that glowed cobalt blue from behind silver BABYLON sconces, three on each side, leading toward the all-cream living room.
Duke carried Duchess through the foyer, past the couches, fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened onto his terrace overlooking the city’s skyline and river. Walking with her in his arms was easy. She felt light, like part of his own body.
He heard something that made him freeze. It was their song, “Duchess’ Theme Song,” which the Bang Squad had written, composed and produced for this night right here. Now it was pumping through his top of the line stereo system that played in every room of the penthouse.
“Listen, baby girl.” Damn, looking down in those eyes made his heart stop a minute. She glanced up as if it helped her hear better. The tune was as soft as she was, with piano and a soft rumble of drums, just enough bass to make it sound masculine.
Jamal was crooning like Marvin Gaye.
“Duchess, be my girl. Help me rule the world. Duchess, be my wife. Share this dream of life.” Duke sang along, looking so deep into her teary eyes that he felt like he could dive in and swim around.
“Duchess, be my girl,” Duke sang. “Help me rule the world. Duchess, be my wife. Share this dream of life.”
She nodded slightly, never looking away from his eyes. He stepped into the bedroom, decorated like an Egyptian pharoah’s palace. Custom lights were set behind tall columns along the walls, inlaid with colorful tiles in Egyptian patterns and hieroglyphics. They were already adjusted to cast a sexy peach haze through the huge room, especially on the two eight-foot-tall mummy cases on each side of the black lacquered dresser.
The face paint of the cases always gave Duke this look like they were adding their power to his purpose. He loved the black eyeliner around the round, direct eyes, the richness of the gold covered faces, the sharp contrast of the black stripes on their headdresses. The cases were arranged so they were facing the bed, focusing their power on Duke for when he finally made love with Duchess.
He stepped to the dresser, where he unclipped his phones from his belt, turned them off and set them down. They sat next to candles that were already burning, making the room smell like butterscotch. The burning logs crackled inside the white marble fireplace.
He had his Duchess in his arms, ripe and ready. She was kissing him like she wouldn’t be able to breathe if she unlatched her lips.
“Baby girl,” he whispered, carrying her toward the bed. She put her hand behind his head and pulled his mouth back to hers.
He stepped up the four white marble steps to the king-sized mahogany playpen surrounded by a canopy of sheer gold panels of shimmery silk. He angled Duchess’ head so she parted the curtains. He laid her on the gold silk bedspread. Her black hair fanned out around her head.
“You look like a angel,” he whispered.
Her blue flame blowtorch eyes incinerated him. Timbo flipped harder than ever. Duke was actually trembling from head to toe. He was a little scared because he didn’t want to hurt her. The way he felt, it was so overwhelming, he knew he would lose his mind up in that pretty pussy. And he hadn’t even seen it.
“Take your shirt off,” she whispered, lips and cheeks red as ever.
He unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to a nearby chair. Her eyes trailed all over his chest, over his shoulders, down his arms and back again. It seemed like forever before she whispered, “Undress me.”
He pulled off her gym shoes and her socks. He knelt down, sucked her pretty toes, sliding his tongue between each one. Duke ran a hand between her legs, fingers outstretched to tickle the insides of her thighs. Then with his middle finger only, he ran it straight up the stretched-tight fabric over her pussy. It was hot, wet, and meaty, like a meat flower all bunched up in there that would open up and suck him in like a big-ass stinger on a bee, dripping honey all over the place.
Duchess cried out. It was like agony and ecstasy all rolled into one sound. She was so horny it was hurting her, and it was his duty to relieve her of this suffering. She was his, and he needed to brand her with his tongue, his juice, his love. To burn their souls together into one, forever.
He put his fingertips on each side of the waistband on the pants he bought her. Touching the baby-soft skin of her hips, he pulled slowly. His fingertips, which caught her panties too, trailed down the outsides of her hips, her thighs, her knees, her calves, and her ankles. Then he just stood there, staring at her long-ass legs smooth, creamy, and toned. She had skin the color of the inside of an almond, white with a little bit of yellow-tan, on the prettiest legs he had ever seen. She raised her knees and just stared up at him from between the valley of her legs like they were framing her face from where he was standing.
Her jacket still covered the tops of her thighs. He unzipped it, peeled it off her shoulders. He lifted each hand, kissed every finger, then pulled the wristband over her hand and laid her arm gently back on the bed.
She shivered when his hands passed over her nipples through the white T-shirt. She let out a little moan. She could start a fire the way she was looking at him.
Duke peeled off her T-shirt and unhooked her bra, letting loose the most beautiful nipples and titties he’d ever seen. Full, round, plump, with cinnamon-color circles that came to a point. And they tasted as sweet and soft as they looked. Duke sucked like a baby, twirling his tongue around that nipple that he would never let go of.
Her back arched; her hands grasped the sides of his head. She pushed him up. “Look at me,” she whispered. “All of me.”
First he stared into her eyes, which made his skin feel like flames were dancing up and down him from head to toe. Her face was too pretty to believe. His eyes traveled down that elegant, swan like neck. Some of her straight black hair covered her creamy shoulder and made a fan against the gold silk under her. Her titties pointed straight at him. Her stomach was so pretty it was a sin, the way her waist curved in below her ribs. Her belly button was like a little eye, winking at him as her stomach rose and fell because she was breathing so hard already. He wanted to take a fork and eat all that smooth, creamy skin over her hips, down to the black hair at the “V�
�� of her pussy.
“Oh . . . hell . . . yeah,” he groaned.
Her clit was big, red, and so wet it was shiny. It looked like a red rose pinned to a black mink coat. He wanted to stare at this forever, but he didn’t want her to clamp up and push him away. He had to get it while it was hot, before her mind took back over her body.
“Baby girl, you got the prettiest pussy on the planet.”
“Her name is Celeste,” she said matter-of-factly, staring up at him. “And she’s been wanting you to kiss her since we first saw you this afternoon.”
Day-um! Baby girl had a name for the pussy, talking about “we.” All of a sudden he heard Momma’s voice saying, “Be careful what you wish for, ’cause if you get it, you betta be ready.” Duke knelt on the bed. He bent down, wanting to kiss her pretty thighs and that stomach . . . and that pussy!
The sweet scent made Timbo so hard it hurt. He looked straight into her eyes. She was on her elbows, watching him over the smoothness of her stomach. He almost didn’t know where to start. But the tip of his tongue couldn’t resist the tip of her clit. The way she was looking at him, her eyes were fiending for him to slurp on it all night.
“Baby girl, you ain’t neva had nobody eat yo’ pussy?”
“No,” she groaned as if the thought hurt.
“I’m the first and the last,” Duke whispered into the salty sweet cloud of pussy vapors making his face feel hot. He had to go there first. It was so soft, so sweet, so clean. He stuck out his tongue as far it would go.
“Oh my God,” she cried out. “Oh . . . my . . . God.”
Then he wrapped his lips in an “O” shape all the way around that big, red clit. He sucked it into his mouth.
Her whole body heaved. “Duuuuuke!” she moaned.
It sounded so sexy. If he never heard another word, the way she said his name was the most beautiful sound ever to pass into his ears. And he knew she was through. His mouth on her pussy was his magic pass to getting any and everything he ever wanted from her. Didn’t need to string her out on drugs like some thugs did to keep their bitches under control. All he had to do was turn her pussy into his own all-you-can-eat buffet, and she’d serve him every day, every way, forever.
The way she was arching her back, sticking the pussy up into his face harder, grinding her hips up into his mouth, she must have wanted this for a long time. Even if some suburban punk had tried it on her, there was no way he could have done it like The Duke.
“Oh my God,” she gasped.
He went back down, sucking on each lip, slurping up that sweet cream. It was so sweet it was like the lemon cake batter he used to lick off of Grammomma’s bowl when he was little.
This chick pussy tasted like lemon cake batter!
That made Timbo throb even harder with the idea of sliding up into that never-been-entered pussy. He stuck his tongue in, wrapped his lips around her clit, just to suck it in for a minute, like a scoop of strawberry ice cream melting under his kiss. Now it was time for his sure fire trick to make her cum hard, so he could make her his forever.
Chapter 26
Tiny dots of light danced behind her eyelids as Duke ate her pussy. So many times she had practically begged Brian to perform oral sex on her, after she’d given him countless blow jobs. Brian always said it was disgusting to put his mouth there, especially when he thought about how period blood and pee came out of the same spot. That punk motherfucker. But right now, she knew the disrespect she got from Brian in so many ways was preparing her to take this incredible love from Duke. Nothing that felt this good, from just looking into Duke’s eyes to listening to his voice to feeling him touch her this way nothing could possibly be wrong.
There has to be a purpose, a reason that I am in this place called Babylon. Feeling like I never knew a person could feel. Because Daddy said everything, even the bad stuff, happens for a good reason.
“Duke,” she whispered. “Yeah, Duke, do that to me.”
His forearms were under her hips, and his giant hands gripped the insides of her thighs. He squeezed her soft flesh then rose up, looking into her eyes.
“Baby girl, you got me. Fo’ ev’a. Fo’ ev’a.” His head descended back down.
“Love what you do,” Victoria moaned. “My pussy, Celeste, loves what you do.”
The way his tongue was moving, it was beyond words. The rhythm reminded her of a windshield wiper. The tip of his tongue was like the end of the blade; the thicker part of his tongue was the length of it. He sloshed it back and forth over her clit, first soft, then harder, then soft again, increasing the pressure with every stroke. It went back and forth, back and forth, in a half-circle motion, applying more pressure with every wipe.
That was what it felt like on the outside of her clit. The inside of her clit felt like a starburst, a ball of fire between her legs. Every time Duke licked her, the fireball got hotter, sending out sparks farther and farther through her body. Pretty soon she knew it was going to explode, making her whole body shimmer with heat and light. But right now, she was loving the psychedelic sensations making her mind, body and spirit look and feel like a Fourth of July fireworks display.
This is unbelievable.
She gripped her fingertips into the soft skin of his head, holding him there as she moaned softly, never wanting this moment to end, except for when he took her all the way to relieve this horrible curiosity and ache. After so long without a hug or any love, after the trauma of losing life as she knew it, she finally felt safe. Loved. Happy.
She felt this, even though she was going against her lifelong vow to never, ever unleash the femme fatale between her legs. If this is the way I’m gonna die, then so be it, because this is heaven on Earth.
“Duke, you are a god,” she whispered. “You are a gohhh-hhhd.” She thrust her hips up higher, spread her legs wider. Never had she even imagined anything so incredible.
Celeste was in seventh heaven. She never would have believed it felt this good. Tiffany had oral sex and said it was great, but she said the prick who did it to her was sloppy and impatient, then ran to the bathroom to gargle for a full five minutes afterward. And she hadn’t even cum.
Not Duke. He acted like he wanted to stay down there all day and would drink a glass of her pussy juice if she gave him a straw.
“Duke,” she cried, “what are you doing?”
A finger slid into her pussy. In and out, in and out, all while he did the windshield wiper tongue motion on her clit.
“Aaahhhh,” she moaned, her whole body trembling.
The starburst was getting bigger, hotter, radiating through her every cell as if the sun were rising between her legs, as if the black dome of Duke’s bald head between her white thighs was the cataclysmic fusing of two worlds. Lightning, meteor showers, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions would surely follow.
She was breathing so hard, her ears were ringing.
And now another finger pressed up into her pussy.
Brian was always begging her to go all the way, pressuring her by saying if she didn’t fuck him, they’d have to break up so he could find someone who would fuck. He would threaten this, even though he was constantly refusing to do exactly what Duke was doing right now.
I’m glad Duke is the first because this has got to be the best, anywhere, ever.
That starburst was sparking, flaming. It was spraying red hot sparks up her abdomen, through her chest, making the points of her nipples tingle and burn. Her fingertips were tingling. Her toes were twitching. The muscles in her legs were trembling. Her pussy was quivering around his fingers and under his tongue.
Duke let out a deep moan like this was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Like it was his oxygen.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God.”
The fireball was roaring, rumbling . . . exploding.
Great flames of red, orange, and yellow licked out through her limbs, flashed behind her closed eyelids, made her heart glow white-hot.
“Oh, hell ye
ah,” Duke groaned as her pussy pulsated around his finger. Another white-hot flash of fire shot down her legs, up her belly, over her nipples, down her fingertips, into her head, which glimmered in a psychedelic swirl of color and light.
“Yeah, baby girl,” he whispered. “You ready for me now.”
He kissed her mouth. She licked and sucked off every drop of her own sweet juice. It felt so nasty, so liberating. And she felt drunk on champagne.
Finally, her pussy powers filled her head with the idea that from now on, she would never go without a man who could make her cum like that. She would settle for nothing less.
Duke ran his hand over her still-throbbing clit, down into the juices, to the satin soft, soaked skin where Celeste was about to suck him in whole. With his face so close to hers that their noses touched, he stared into her eyes and whispered, “Let Duke make love to his Duchess. I’m gon’ anoint you. Make you mine.”
Victoria thrust upward, impatient, wanting to shove that big, beautiful dick inside her like the world was going to end tomorrow and they had to fuck right up until they died. She wanted to take every inch of this black god, this Mandingo warrior, this knight in a shining Porsche who rescued her in the middle of Ghettoland. This man she was studying, learning from, so that one day this very act that made him feel like he was dominating her, helpless, homeless, with nowhere to go, would enable her to whip him into submission. So she could dominate.
“Now,” she whispered. “Fuck me now, Duke.”
Chapter 27
Duke stood at the side of the bed, staring down into two silver-blue moons begging him to make love like he had never done before. Her lips were redder than ever. Her perfect little nipples were pointing at him, calling him. Her pussy hair was a soft black bush at the “V” of her juicy thighs.
Thinking about being with Duchess for the dick-down of the millennium didn’t even come close to what it would be like in a minute. If she could cum that hard with his mouth, then she would no doubt damn near kill him when Timbo slid up in the prettiest pussy God ever made.
Sex in the Hood Saga Page 17
