Baby Blue’s thigh quivered. “Oooohhh shit, girl!” Her nipples stiffened. Her whole body trembled, and her pussy walls pulsated around Duchess’ fingers. Another stripper sucked Baby Blue’s nipples as she came.
“Damn, girl, I ain’t neva cum so fas’.” Her leg was still up.
Her pussy was a beautiful swell of soft, glistening folds of brown satin, like a flower.
Duchess’ open lips pressed onto that perfect clit.
“Oooohhh!” Baby Blue shivered. “You my new girlfriend.”
“Stay right there,” Duchess ordered. “While I cum.”
Nina was giving her butterfly fingers in her pussy while she made tiny licks, still on the tip of her clit. Every lick rubbed away the pain of Duchess’ recent past and the terror of tonight. Now her mind was a mellow flow of lust clogged by a head full of question marks.
If Alice loved Ghettoland, would she ever want to go back to where she came from? Duchess moaned. The inner dialogue from Celeste made the corners of her mouth rise up.
Why’d you make me wait this long to get some tongue? You know you’ve been wantin’ it for so long. Why didn’t you and Tiffany experiment? They’d talked about it, but they had both chickened out.
“Puuurrrrfect.” Duchess lay back on her throne, staring up into the beautiful pussy spread wide open between Baby Blue’s legs. She loved that Duke was watching every second, and that they would finish this interlude off with each other, upstairs, in the privacy of the penthouse.
Seize this power, a soft voice in her head whispered.
It was Celeste, her sex power. Seize this power right now. Store it. Summon it whenever you need it. You will always win. This power right here is magic. It’s yours.
The words . . . the pussy in her face . . . Duke’s attention. . . and Nina’s licking . . . “Oooohhh. Oooohhh.” Her pussy exploded into an orgasm seemed to go on forever.
“My turn,” a deep voice said. The girls moved.
Duke stepped between her legs, his dick huge and hard, pointing at her. The dark chocolate skin on his stomach was smooth, hairless, and beautiful.
She closed her eyes to focus on a repeat of the supernatural euphoria she experienced a few hours ago, upstairs in their bed. Now Timbo was poised to make her cum again with just one stroke then make love to her again . . . better than ever.
Wham!
Duchess stiffened. Opened her eyes wide.
No, Timbo ain’t it. But who the fuck made love to me like that?
Chapter 56
Duke pounded up into that pussy, even though the look in Duchess’ eyes right now might as well have been graffiti across her ass saying: I LIKE KNIGHT’S BIG, BLACK DICK BETTER THAN YOURS, YOU PUNK MA’FUCKA.
She don’t even know she fucked Knight. She just know somethin’ ain’t right.
Love still glowed in her blue-flame blow torch eyes that first cast her spell over him. But now, that knowing look was about to kill him.
If Knight bum rush me up in front of all of Babylon and steal the Duchess that I picked! I made! I love! Then my heart gon’ stop right here, right now, on my twenty-first birthday.
He made it to old age for the average inner city nigga, but love hurt worse than bullets. That sounded corny as hell, but the fact that he was thinking it and couldn’t control it, that showed he was a true punk.
But a pussy-whipped punk by any other name would still curl up and die if his girl left for the bigger, better, badder, blacker warrior.
There was no way she could know who fucked her, but just the fact that she knew somebody did it better than Duke was blowing her mind. As soon as she took a look at Knight, she’d know all too well who tried to impersonate Timbo and gave her the ultimate fuck.
Penis impersonation. That ma’fucka just committed the ultimate felony in my book.
Duke radiated his most mack look down at his Duchess. She was his, and she was innocent. She was the victim here, taken advantage of in her horny state, tricked by a dude in the dark who looked just like her man, even to their own mother in the bright light of day.
I’m gon’ fuck her so good right now, my nut gon’ brainwash any idea that it wasn’t Timbo who gave her “the best ever.”
“I love you,” he mouthed down to her. Bang Squad started playing the song he had made for her, “Duchess,” slow and sexy.
He lifted her up, making her legs higher around his waist so he could bang his way back up into first place. He stood in front of the thrones, watching the fuck frenzy in the crowd below as he bounced Duchess on Timbo.
Yeah, he was clearing her mind with the brute force she loved right now. Smashing every question mark to bits with this most mack motion. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her eyes stared down with a new message: YOU THE MAN . . . YOU MY MAN . . . MY ONLY MAN.
All those strippers, males and females, now circled around them like flower petals, swaying in a sexy motion with their arms up in the air and their bodies rolling as gracefully as underwater plants on a coral reef.
Duchess leaned close with those pucker fish lips open, ready to kiss. She looked up, over his shoulder. She sucked in air and turned white as a ghost.
’Cause now she sittin’ on the wrong dick, lookin’ at the bigger, better, blacker one she want.
Chapter 57
I have to see his neck, that scar, then I’ll know if he’s the supernatural god who made me cum at first stroke. The one who connected with my spirit in a way that’s still got me breathless.
The shock of this moment, as Duchess sat speared through the pussy by Duke and speared through the soul by his brother, knocked her brain into an Alice in Double Pleasureland tailspin.
Knight and a whole crew of Barriors and B’Amazons were marching this way. Knight and his boys could pull a Scarface style gun battle right here in the middle of an orgy. He could blast his brother to bits, and all the bullets would have to make Swiss cheese of Duchess’ booty, back, and brains first.
Duke could figure out that I fucked his brother, and he’ll just shoot me.
Or, if Knight was going to be more chivalrous with his plan of attack, because there was no doubt in his eyes that this was a siege, then he’d use words and wisdom to wield his power over Duke.
And I’ll use words to wield my power over both of these sex gods. Then I’ll be queen of Babylon. Of course they wouldn’t know that. She’d let them think they were both in charge, or keep them in an endless race where they each jockeyed for top position. That would be their distraction while she reigned supreme.
As Knight got closer, Duchess almost smiled as her vision came to mind. Yeah, Cleopatra down, with Duke and Knight at her sides as she walked into the Moreno meeting or the West Coast negotiations, working it just like Duke envisioned.
As the music continued to blast, and as she sat frozen-stiff on Duke’s dick, the air was suddenly so thick with hostility and suspicion, she could slice right through it. Knight stood right behind them now. His voice was deep as he said, “Victoria, I need you to excuse yourself so me and Li’l Tut can talk business.”
He said “business,” not “bidness.” And that was the first time anyone had called her Victoria in nearly a week.
She stared wide eyed into his coffee bean brown face, a richer roast than Duke. His eyes were more serious, more mature, and so potent, her vision blurred with the sunburst that flashed when he made her cum at first stroke. Her pussy got hot and wet. It squeezed from the inside out, pushing Duke’s limp dick out like a squishy little wet fish.
“Aw, hell naw!” Duke shouted into the still blasting music.
Suddenly Duchess was spinning. Duke was still holding her, but he pivoted so she could look at both beautiful, dangerous men.
“Pick one!” Duke shouted. The veins on the sides of his neck bulged. His eyes were glassy.
She smiled. I know he’s not serious, ’cause if he is, he’ll kill me before he lets me get wit’ Knight.
“Pick which Mandingo stud ma’fucka named Johnson you
want for Duchess.”
“Oh baby, you’re no fun,” she said playfully. “What if I want both?”
Duke’s voice went down another octave. “Whoever you pick, he get to run Babylon.”
“You so silly!” Duchess tightened her legs around his waist.
“Don’t just sit on my dick here lookin’ dazed!” Duke shouted. Craziness glowed in his eyes. “I said pick one!”
Knight’s laughter boomed over the loud bass beat. He put an enormous hand on Duke’s bare shoulder.
“Listen up, Li’l Tut. My name is not eenie, meenie, miney or moe. And nobody’s gonna catch this nigga by the toe. So, Victoria, if you’ll please leave us to talk.”
“She about to say somethin’,” Duke said. “Now.”
“I’ll run Babylon myself.” Duchess tilted her chin up to hide the earthquake of fear inside her. “You two,” she said with a strong, serious voice, “can be my board of directors. We’ll actually all make decisions together. But e’rybody know,” she said with all the charm, sensuality and power of Cleopatra, “Duchess da boss!”
Chapter 58
Duke felt like a million big, black scarab beetles were eating him alive. He gripped Duchess’ thighs hard to keep her juicy booty as a cover over his naked ass.
The look in Knight’s eyes said it all. He looked disappointed, excited and too much more for Duke to figure out all at once.
He was just standing there like the new fuckin’ sheriff in D-town.
All six-foot-seven inches of his ass looked ready to take back all of Babylon. One look into that bigger, better mirror image of himself set Duke’s brain off on a game of emotions; tossing his brother around, shouting “Love” and “Hate” all at the same time.
Right now, the “Hate” was screaming so loud, “Love” had almost left the game.
What if I was wrong about him plunderin’ my female treasure? What if Knight just wants to surprise me on my birthday? Don’t nobody here know nothin’ about Knight plottin’ a coup. Is that just my crazy-ass imagination?
Duke wanted to find out right away by going with Knight to a quiet spot to talk. But he couldn’t just put down Duchess, who was shaking like she was naked in the snow. He wasn’t about to flash the smaller, weaker mirror image of whatever the fuck Knight had between his legs!
The music stopped. The sounds of sex continued; moaning, groaning, nasty talk, skin slapping skin. Then that stopped too.
“Happy birthday, Li’l Tut.” Sheriff Knight’s voice boomed like a cannonball through Duchess’ backside then through Duke’s chest. Babylon felt like the dusty street in an Old West movie, where everybody froze in place to watch the showdown.
Two cowboys.
One turf.
A girl in the mix.
Only here, it was the two baddest urban cowboys this side of the Mississippi. And they were blood brothers. The only thing funny about the whole situation was to see Duke standing there butt ass naked while Knight was fully decked out in brown leather outfit... Would it be a happy reunion? Would they hug and rule together like they were supposed to? Or did big brotha come back to D-town for a hostile take-over from Li’l Tut?
And how could Duke draw a gun if all he was wearing was a butt-naked Duchess?
“I said happy birthday, Li’l Tut.”
“Happy birthday to you!” Jamal shouted up from the stage.
Then the band played the funkiest birthday song ever, and everybody in Babylon screamed along at the tops of their lungs.
Duchess, she stayed curled up around his waist, pressing that hot pussy into his stomach, hiding Timbo with her plump ass.
While the song rocked the house and Knight’s deep voice sang along, Duchess pressed her pretty lips to Duke’s cheek. “I love you, Duke, baby.”
The song ended. Silence.
Jamal’s amped voice boomed through the garage. “We all know the birthday boy one o’ the baddest cats in town, but now big br’a in’a howooose!”
The bigger, badder, blacker version of himself stared hard into Duke’s eyes. They were still at the edge of the balcony, so the masses of people were watching them.
“Welcome to the new Babylon!” Knight’s voice blasted through speakers. A cordless mic was clipped to his lapel! No doubt, this siege was orchestrated in advance, in secret-with the band, the Barriors and B’Amazons. Maybe Duchess was even in on the plan of attack. E’rybody knew but me.
His brother announced, “The Duke’s been han’lin’ things, but it’s time for The Knight to rule again!”
The crowd exploded. The band played the Babylon theme song. Knight unclipped the mic, handing it to Big Moe. Then the huge brown leather tubes that were Knight’s arms came down with long fingers spread on giant hands. He almost looked like a robot the way his arms both moved down at the same angle toward the back of Duchess’ waist.
Knight clamped down on her baby-soft flesh like he was about to pull her off and leave Duke standing at his own party with his wet, limp dick in his hand.
Knight pulled, making Duchess’ legs unwrap from around Duke’s hips. He lifted her up and off, causing a cold wind to hit Duke’s dick.
And Knight said, cool as a ma’fuckin’ cowboy, “I got Babylon and yo’ bitch.”
Chapter 59
The Queen shivered with a “powergasm” as she surveyed the hundreds of women and Studs who were fucking and sucking on every plush surface of The Playroom. “Damn, I love my job.” The words floated over her hot, parted lips and blended with the blasting sound of her own voice singing nasty lyrics over the funky electric beat of the Dick Chicks Party Mix, which she had recorded with the Bang Squad as the signature hip-hop album for all Babylon sex parties from New York to Los Angeles.
“Couldn’t be nothin’ sexier than this on the whole planet right now.” She loved the way the relentless beat synchronized with her excited heartbeat and the rhythm of so much fucking around her. “And all hail The Queen up in this mug.”
All around the huge industrial loft of this converted warehouse building overlooking the Detroit River, nude bodies writhed on rows of giant beds. “Yeah, lick those pussies,” The Queen said, glancing to her right. In the soft pink haze, a dozen Studs knelt before as many women who were lying spread eagled on the edge of a long, low couch. “Love that shit.”
The lyrics, which she had written, were a musical tribute to what she watched and craved.
The Queen moaned, squeezing her pussy muscles to make her clit throb. Damn, the black satin of her thong was marinating in hot cream, but Knight would suck it dry later on. For now, she was loving the way the wet sling of fabric massaged her pussy as she swayed slightly with the beat of the music.
“Love it,” she whispered, as female clients and Studs twisted into “fucknastics” on the leopard-print benches and Cleopatra style chaises.
Against the exposed brick walls sat giant framed mirrors, which rested on the floor and angled slightly upward, and reflected a multidimensional freak frenzy. Oversized swings hanging from the exposed beams and pipes of the high ceilings allowed couples to fuck face to face as they swung back and forth.
“Oooh, pound that pussy!” a sista shrieked from just a few feet away. On a huge white mink pillow, the woman convulsed with orgasm as a Stud named Antoine jackhammered her so hard. “Damn,” The Queen whispered.
Antoine was gorgeous, but nobody could compare to her beautiful African god named Knight. If she weren’t so happy in love, she would definitely get a taste of some of that creamy milk chocolate called Antoine.
He glanced up at her, and the lust in his brown eyes made her shiver. He was a big piece of candy, from those cheeks and lips, down to a perfect dick that didn’t quit.
She’d seen his long, fat, big-headed hose in “sexercise” class, but everybody knew Knight would kill a muthafucka who even thought about competing with his lead pipe. The last one who tried, well, nobody even remembered his name, since he had disappeared. Never came out how Knight found out. But Knight knew ever
ything.
Antoine is up to somethin’, whispered Celeste. And Celeste was never wrong. That was just too bold the way Antoine looked at you. The Queen cast a “don’t-even-try-it” look down at the Stud and mouthed to him, “Fuck on.”
Antoine smiled, flipped his long braids over his shoulder, and banged that booty even harder.
The chrome points of her stiletto heels and her long legs in black leather pants made her feel a mile tall, which intensified her sense of being the baddest bitch in charge of the most erotic enterprise ever heard of in D-town and beyond. And nobody but the right folks would hear about it. Nobody would know who she was, where she came from, or where she was going, even though her sexy rhymes with the Bang Squad were blazin’ up the music charts and every hip-hop media outlet wanted to know who The Queen was. But they would never find out who she used to be, who she was now, or how she planned to rule this sexy underworld forever.
Victoria who? Rich prep-school white girl, who? A fugitive wanted by who?
The Queen smiled as she remembered how much life had changed over the past year.
I’m The Queen now. Black, blingin’, and bold as hell. Rulin’ with my Knight to the infinity. The Queen turned as her assistant, CoCo, approached.
The five foot three inch, cinnamon-hued nymph wore a white leather mini-dress and pointed thigh high boots. That were as sharp as her business minded brain. Her short, curly hair smelled like coconut shampoo.
“Queen,” CoCo said close to her boss’ ear, “these bitches don’t play. They all paid up. Three hundred K, plus the fee.” CoCo tapped her pink rhinestone-covered ink pen on the white papers on her clear pink clipboard. A red light flashed at the top of her pink rhinestone-covered cell phone, whose holster hooked to the top of the clipboard. “We got the full half-mil tonight.” CoCo’s sharp eyes, framed by black awnings of fake lashes, scanned her list of names and payments. Pink circles on her cheeks highlighted her round face not because she wore blush, but because the excitement of her job gave her a natural glow. Chanel set diamonds sparkled in the big gold hoop earrings Jamal had given her.
Sex in the Hood Saga Page 30
