Knight patted Larry on the back of his snug fitting brown sweater that matched his brown linen trousers and polished, lace-up brown and white shoes. “I appreciate all the wisdom over the years, man,” Knight said, hoping this money maneuver was the remedy for relieving the tightness in his chest. “You helped me work a miracle.”
“I’m about to.” Larry said, glanced up with a sparkle in his brown eyes. His curly dark hair shook as he laughed. “I cannot wait to see how you pull this off.”
Knight’s chest squeezed. “I’ve been working my ass off for years. I need to get away.”
“I hear you,” Larry said. “Me and Prissy have been so worked up over this indictment, we’re thinkin’ about doing the same thing. Latest word is, the heat’s off. But this is a wakeup call. Can never be too careful.”
Knight nodded, watching as Larry worked the keyboard to make page after page pop up with seven-figure bank balances.
“All you have to do after The Games is log on with that same password, Caesar, and transfer the money from Jamal’s account into this new account, and voila lifetime of luxury.”
“Thanks for eveything man,” Knight said, “you a cool cat.”
“Of course Knight,” Larry said, looking up from the computer.
“You’re the boss,” Larry said. “And I’m proud of you, dude.”
He’s sincere, intuition told Knight.
Still, Knight stared hard into Larry’s eyes. “Nothin’ like trust. Nothin’ like trust.”
Larry nodded. “Speaking of trust, this dude, Jamal, you really trust him?”
That band of tension squeezed around Knight’s chest. “Jamal knows that any deviation from this plan will earn him a life long visitor’s pass to see Prince at Elmwood Cemetery.”
“What’s the latest on Duke?”
“He’s planning an eleventh hour heist, but I’m ten steps ahead of him.”
“Stay there.” Larry stood. “Mission accomplished. Now let’s go see what that pretty little Cleopatra of yours is up to.”
Knight’s heart pounded as he took long strides to the door. He would be down on his Queen faster than Larry could say, “Swing.”
Chapter 86
The Queen moaned as the woman’s long fingernails raked through her long, black hair and massaged her scalp over and over.
“Knight told us you were even more beautiful than you were last year.” Mrs. Marx stared at The Queen in the mirrored wall of the dining room in The Penthouse at Babylon. “But you are absolutely breathtaking.”
The Queen, sitting in her Louis XIV chair at the head of the table, leaned her head back and looked up into the intrigued blue eyes that were on a thin, upside-down face with bright pink lip gloss. “Thank you. I always loved Egyptian stuff and playing dress-up with my mom. So this—”
The Queen’s throat burned so much, stealing her words. This was the first older woman she’d encountered in more than a year. Except for Duke’s mother, who’d hated her until Knight brought her home, and Mrs. Johnson suddenly loved The Queen. Because, as she learned, their mother praised anything Knight did, while in her eyes, Duke could never be as good as his big brother.
The housekeeper, Nina, pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen and began to clear the table. “Madame Queen,” she said with a curtsy that made the tops of her nutmeg-brown breasts jiggle, “I’ll serve dessert soon as Master Knight and Mister Marx come back from the office.”
“Thank you, Nina,” The Queen said, bending her head forward to look into Nina’s pretty almond shaped eyes. “You got some French vanilla ice-cream and caramel sauce to go over the pecan pie, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nina curtsied again, then piled up dinner plates from the table.
The Queen leaned her head back.
Mrs. Marx, standing behind her chair, cupped a warm hand over The Queen’s cheek and stared into her eyes. “You okay, sweetie? You look sad.”
As Nina clinked china and silverware, The Queen squeezed hot tears from her eyes, which dripped down onto Mrs. Marx’s wrist. She kept her eyes closed, and loved the sensation of Mrs. Marx’s hands stroking her face, from each side of her nose, down to her jaw, over and over.
“I think you need to relax,” Mrs. Marx said. “Let’s go into the living room.”
“I’ll bring coffee and dessert out there,” Nina said.
As they walked toward the plush all-white couches, Mrs. Marx massaged The Queen’s shoulders. Perhaps because of the affectionate and grateful way Knight had always spoken of the Marxes, The Queen felt extremely comfortable with this woman. She wanted to tap into her wisdom and learn the ways of a married woman that she’d not been able to learn from her mother.
“Mrs. Marx?”
“Priscilla, please,” she said playfully, laying The Queen face down on the couch.
“Priscilla, do you think too much sex can kill a woman or a man?”
“If it can, then Larry and I have nine lives.” She laughed, pushing up the Queen’s dress to massage her calves. “Or more.Why do you ask?”
“Mmmmm, that feels good,” The Queen whispered as the woman kneaded the flesh of her hamstrings.
All through dinner, The Queen had been getting hornier and hornier as she watched Malibu Barbie and her gorgeous husband, eating dinner at the table.
She got the same feeling she’d had when Rip Masta Mac and his harem of hotties had joined them, along with Jamal and CoCo, for dinner last week. They’d barely made it through the lamb chops before Rip Masta put one of his girls in front of him on the table, spread-eagled, and started eating her pussy like it was a pie-eating contest.
That sparked an oral extravaganza around the table, as The Queen had slurped down Knight’s dick with wild abandon, and they all ended up on the mattress style chaises on the outdoor terrace, fucking to the funkiest beats of the Bang Squad and Rip Masta, until the sun rose in an explosion over the Detroit River.
Tonight’s dinner had been much more reserved, but the twinkle in Mrs. Marx’s blue eyes let her know this guest from the West Coast was saving the best for last.
Now The Queen wished Knight would return from whatever serious conversation he was having with Mr. Marx, so they could cap off the evening with dessert. Because Mrs. Marx’s hands were massaging her butt cheeks now, and her pussy was as hot and creamy as the steaming coffee that she could smell brewing in the kitchen.
“Your ass is so round.”
“Oooh, squeeze my ass,” The Queen whispered. “I loooove that.” She always could cum extra good when Knight took each cheek in one hand, then squeezed and massaged her ass, while he fucked her.
All of a sudden, something hot and wet pressed into The Queen’s booty. It was a pussy. Waxed satin-smooth. Creamy, and steaming hot.
Mrs. Marx ground her clit in sultry circles into the round curve of The Queen’s juicylicious booty. Meanwhile, her hands massaged The Queen’s bareback.
Celeste screamed, loving this new sensation.
Mrs. Marx grinded and rotated until she screamed, shivered, and creamed all over The Queen’s ass.
The Queen needed Knight right now. She needed Shane to slam up into her hungry pussy and take care of this ache for love.
She felt Knight’s hands on the backs of her knees. He pulled them apart, pooted up her ass with Mrs. Marx still on it, and rammed Shane into the swollen, slippery jellyfish that Celeste had become.
His dick was like an electric eel, slithering up into her and sending jolts through her every cell. Lightning crackled behind her closed eyelids. She spasmed with the shock of his size and speed, and she shuddered, cumming with one magic stroke.
Chapter 87
Duke took one look into Shar Miller’s devious eyes and felt pumped with power. And here, inside this white stretch Navigator limousine, Shar looked fine as hell. She sat with Leroy Lewis from Miami, Raynard Ingalls from Chicago, and Red Moreno himself.
“Vegas look good on you, girl,” Duke said, glancing over her body. He’d hard
ly gotten a look at her at the last meeting at the nightclub, when she’d been covered by her Stud and Baby Blue.
Now, Shar wore a skintight black dress that pushed up her big chest and showed off a tattoo that said SHAR scrolled across the top of her left tittie. Next to that, her tiny red cell phone poked from between her nutmeg-brown boobs. She had to be damn near forty-five, but her smooth skin proved that black don’t crack.
Timbo became as long and hard as a log inside Duke’s baggy jeans. “How you gon’ look betta wit’ age?”
She smiled, glancing at the bare-chested Stud beside her. His brown biceps bulged as she stroked the leg of his jeans. He was holding her steaming coffee cup with one hand and picking a piece of lint off her arm with the other.
“This is my fountain of youth.” She glanced at the Stud. “The secret lies in womanly wisdom and a daily regimen of sex. And thank you, Massa Duke. I am so honored to work with you as a partner to put you back in charge of Babylon. We can’t let all that business sense you got go to waste.”
Duke shrugged, but sat tall. The sound of somebody calling him Massa Duke again made Timbo throb so hard he hurt. “I’m back in full effect.”
Moreno flicked his wrist to make his watch fall down from under his crisp white shirt sleeve. How he could even tell time with that blinding sparkle of diamonds was a mystery. And how he could concentrate with Baby Blue sucking his dick was even more baffling.
Duke wanted to see if Moreno’s dick looked as waxy as the rest of his skin. That muthafucka looked embalmed; cold, hard, and chemically preserved. Like Prince in his casket. And with that spooky accent, maybe he was some kind of vampire that would live forever until someone drove a stake through his evil heart.
Leroy shifted on the seat. He rested his gold-ringed hand on his crotch and watched Shar in action.
It was hard enough to look at the top of the crack of Baby Blue’s fine ass as she knelt in front of Moreno, her jeans holding that bubble-booty of hers just right. The way her head bobbed on his lap and her mouth made little sucking sounds made Timbo stand up like a tree trunk. And the scent of sex filling the limo didn’t help much.
Concentrate, muthafucka. Intoxicants, includin’ pussy, done already got you in enough trouble. You clean, now.
Moreno’s hazel eyes looked as sharp and alert as he rested his waxy-looking right hand on Baby Blue’s head and said, “Duke, my brother, Shar, Leroy, and Raynard, pardon my promptness, but the time is short. We can reminisce once the fortunes are in our respective bank accounts.”
Shar sipped her coffee, which seemed to deepen her voice and harden it into a razor-sharp tone. “Massa Duke, your brother seems to have forgotten where he came from. Others on the Board are ready to pluck him out, so we’ll just be doing them a favor tonight to expedite the process.” She raised her long red fingernails to her mouth, parted her red-painted lips, and poked a nail into the gap between her front teeth. She made a sucking sound like she was disgusted. And she moved her hand like she was trying to pull out a piece of sausage that had gotten caught there during breakfast.
She looked elegant and business-like, but the bitch was bad as she needed to be. And the hard glint in her eyes as she spoke of Knight reinforced Duke’s belief that Shar wasn’t about to play pussyfoot and fuck anything up. She was serious as a heart attack.
“Knight’s righteous act,” she said, taking the coffee cup from the Stud, “strikes the wrong way, when you remember what a ruthless renegade muthafucka he was before he got locked up.” She sat with her ankles together so that the pointed tips of her red patent leather boots looked like they could make a brotha cry—either in lust or in pain. Or both.
Duke had already had her like that. But this was strictly business now.
Now this is the kind o’ bitch who can help me make stuff happen, yeah.
She already was. Their phone conversations for the past several months had laid the foundation for the coup of the century.
The muthafuckin’ heist of the millennium.
If Knight had strutted in like the new sheriff in town, then Duke was about to swoop down on his ass like a global superpower.
“My operations around the world,” Moreno said, “will be greatly enhanced by this partnership. I need it to work out to the finest detail tonight.” Moreno’s tongue flicked over his blood-colored lips. “Your brother has promised me the ultimate delight when my teams win The Games.”
Duke stared into Moreno’s sleazy eyes. There could be only one thing that could make Moreno glaze over like that.
Dream on, muthafucka. By the time you think you can get wit’ her, The Duchess will be mine again. An’ I’ll kill yo’ ass befo’ you lay them embalmed lookin’ hands on my goddess.
“It’s gon’ be wild, fo’ sho’,” Duke said.
“You’ll be glad to know,” Shar said with a smooth, deep voice that was nothing like the ghetto-girl twang she’d had while working as a Slut here at Babylon. “That every aspect of Oz is playing out like a well-rehearsed movie; it’s almost too perfect.” Her dark eyes focused hard on him in a business like way. They looked into his face without a glimmer of disgust or disdain or pity or any of the other fucked up attitudes people had been projecting on him since he came back.
Now, he was a phoenix rising out of the ashes of his own pipe, reinventing himself, bigger and badder than ever.
And Leroy Lewis from Miami was picking up on that. Leroy smiled without showing any reaction to Duke’s appearance, and that made Duke feel pumped even bigger and better. “Duke, baby,” Leroy said, wringing his gold-ringed hands together, “I been waitin’ for this day to come. No disrespec’, but I can’t stan’ that scoundrel who came out yo’ momma hoochie befo’ yo’ sweet ass.” Wearing a lemon yellow suit with matching alligator shoes, silk tie, and a feathered hat in the same color, Leroy looked like the pimp he was.
“We gon’ make this happen so big an’ bad, we gon’ make Babylon look like a backalley, boot leg.”
Shar rolled her eyes. “Right now we need action, not words. I have to warn you, though”—Shar glanced toward the dark tinted window at the blue Detroit River sparkling in the morning sunshine—“your girl Reba was having serious doubts about this venture. In fact, her absence right now indicates a serious problem. She should be actively participating in every conversation.”
Duke ground his teeth. That bitch had better make right and get her act together. He had no place or patience for a snitch or a defector.
Shar added, “I talked some sense back into her, but Duke, you’d be wise to keep an eye on her.”
“Already on it,” Duke said. “E’rybody in position for tonight? The Barriors and B’Amazons?”
“We’ve had two drills, both successful,” Shar said.
Duke nodded. “And the inside info you got e’rythang pinpointed, how to take down the dudes wit’ the bank?”
Shar nodded down to her phone between her titties. “Just had them on my hotline,” she said with a deep laugh, “and we’re all set.”
“What about Gerard and security?”
Leroy’s shoulders shook up and down as he laughed. “We sendin’ him the kind o’ poontang that’ll make him think sweet Jesus done turned into a girl an’ come to escort him through the pearly gates.”
Raynard “Dickman” Ingalls, wearing a green Pelle Pelle leather jacket covered with rhinestones and Benjamins, cracked his knuckles. The twenty-year-old from Chicago was notorious for running a gigolo ring that was thrusting into the upscale market, just as Duchess was doing for Babylon. “I been studyin’ the demographic in all the cities we gon’ take.” He fingered the bill of his baseball hat that matched his jacket. “The Queen ain’t got nothin’ on what we gon’ do.” He cracked his knuckles again then flashed a golden grill that had DICKMAN etched in diamonds over his front teeth.
“Coo’,” Duke said as he ticked down his mental check-off list for Oz. “What about the Hummers and the drop-off?”
“We’ve got the schedule
and a double backup plan,” Shar said. “As soon as The Games officially end at midnight, you and I will meet with Reba and Antoine in the tunnel. Leroy will be in the boat with the crew. We’ll target each diver and take their moneybags. Those who may have already reached the boat—”
“We gon’ be pirates like a mug,” Duke said with an ecstatic tone. But a tremor rippled through his thin body as the image of his bigger, badder, blacker brother, Knight, came to mind. Duke shook his head to banish the thought. He ground his teeth, loving the strong, powerful feeling of his jaw muscles flexing. He couldn’t wait to look down on Knight and make him pay for his lifetime of abuse.
Yeah, pretty soon Knight would be Duke’s servant. He might even make big bro’ sleep on a cot every night so he could watch Duke make love to his Duchess over and over and over again.
I’m The Duke! And I’ll be rulin’ in a Motor City minute!
He savored the power of his new court here in this limo. “Yo, Dickman, how y’all’s crew handlin’ the take-down?”
Raynard cracked his knuckles. “Yo, rock dis, I got a exact map showin’ the spot where we gon’ get his black ass. My crew flawless. Yo’ boy, Knight, gon’ be right where you want him in about”—Dickman checked out his watch—“twelve hours.”
“Coo’, coo’.” Duke bit down a smile. By daybreak, he would be back in charge of Babylon. His insides tingled. With Knight out of the way, the Duchess will be mine when all this shakes down tonight.
Timbo jumped and flipped under his jeans. His dick was like an excited fish that couldn’t wait to dive into the deepest, warmest, sweetest waters, and frolic for a lifetime.
Chapter 88
Inside The Playhouse, where one of the private suites was transformed into a bridal boudoir and dressing room, The Queen stepped into the sexiest wedding gown she’d ever seen.
“Damn, I feel turned on just looking at myself in this mug,” The Queen said with a seductive tone.
“Put that into an etiquette book for brides on their wedding day!” CoCo giggled. Then CoCo said with the kind of prim and proper English that she had used while working for The Queen’s father, “Every bride should feel so excited and happy on her wedding day, that her entire genital area should become aroused with a moist, swelling sensation. In addition, her nipples should tingle, and her mouth should pucker slightly, to indicate that she is ready and available to receive her husband’s penis on their wedding night so that she can get fucked into a delirious stupor.”
Sex in the Hood Saga Page 47
