A Big Girl's Revenge
Page 1
A Big Girl’s Revenge
Ms. Michel Moore
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen - The Here and The Now . . .
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three - Calvin
Chapter Twenty-four
Note from the Author
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
A Girl’s Revenge Copyright © 2019 Ms. Michel Moore
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6016-2872-5
eISBN 13: 978-1-60162-901-2
eISBN 10: 1-60162-901-X
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Dedication
MW-MW
12/28/15
Long Live Love
Bis as the World Is Round
Acknowledgments
As I have crafted numerous novels throughout the years, the list of people that support me has continued to grow. I’m so very thankful. And beyond all, I’m often humbled. Sometimes it all seems like a wonderful dream being blessed to do what you love. My husband, best friend, and rock, author Marlon PS White: You’ve been holding me down behind the scenes and have been since 1999. Now you have stepped out of the shadows and are doing ya own thing in this book industry. I love you big as the world is round and support your endeavors just as you’ve done mine. My mother, Ella Fletcher, has had my back in each and every way a parent should. She has stood by me and supported my dreams. She believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you. My daughter, author T. C. Littles has been here to see my visions and assist me in making them reality. We have spent countless hours on the phone plotting and scheming how we can take over the world. One day we just might make it happen. (Smile) Thanks for my grandkids, Jayden and Lil Ella. My brother, Dwayne Fletcher, and cousin, Othello Lewis: it’s always love. Rita Fletcher, continue to R.I.P. I miss you still. At Aretha Franklin’s funeral, Jesse Jackson was posted beginning to end and never left her or the family’s side. I remarked, “I wish I had a friend like that.” Truth be told, I do. My best friend, Dorothea Lewis, is and has been my road dawg for decades. I love ya, Sis! Even when you clown, I will pull out my red nose and clown with you. (Smile)
It’s several folk in this industry that have made my journey more than interesting, and each I hold in high regard. K’wan Foye was the first author that I considered my friend, and also the first author to sign his novels at my bookstore. Nikki Turner prayed for me when times were hard. Carl Weber blessed me with a deal and constant advice. Karen Mitchell and George Denard Breland are like true family. When the chips were down, Faye Wilkes, K’wan, Danielle Green, and Blacc Topp stepped all the way up. I will never forget the love you showed me and mines. We appreciate you. Nothing but respect and gratitude. People talk shit all day long, but these four backed it up. If you want to know the definition of loyalty, look no further.
To Monique Hall, Margret Waleed, E. Williams, Lissha Sadler, Racquel Williams, Spud Johnson, Eureka Jefferson, Ebonee Abby, Nika Michelle, Kenya Rivers, JM Benjamin, Shannon Holmes, Brenda Hampton, Amaleka McCall, La Jill Hunt, Ty Marshal, Danielle Bigsby, Avery Goode, Joe Awsum, Linda Brickhouse, and of course, my lil hometown soul sista for life, India-Johnson Williams: collectively y’all have had my back, shown love, and been nothing short of 100 from day one. In this industry, that’s rare.
I still thank God for Sidi, Oumar, Mustafa, Henry, Porgo, Akieon, and the list goes on of the street vendors that showed me love when I first started. Blessings always to my friend, Hakim (Black & Nobel Books). A special thank you to Tonya Woodfolk, Johnnay Johnson, Stacy Jabo, Papaya, Jenise Brown, Ne-c Virgo for always traveling to my events. And to Qiana Drennen: you created something great. DRMRAB was legendary. That book club and all its chapters impacted the paperback world in ways unimaginable. I salute you for that. To the other Detroit-based book clubs that rock with me, The Plot Seekers and EYE CU, thanks for the continued support.
Major respect to all who have always supported my bookstore, Hood Book Headquarters located in Detroit, and that supported the Detroit Hustle and Grind Book Fair. Lastly, to the Hood Book Ambassadors, Trina Crenshaw, Yolanda McCormick, Nia Smith, Krystal Robinson, Jay Knox, Desiree Bailey, La Kiesha Wright, Renita Walker, Kenya Johnson, Chanelle Patton, Eurydice Lofton, Martha Falconer, Tina Brown, Vickie Juncaj, Candance, Passion Beauford, T.C. Littles: you are the greatest book club and moral support a girl could ever have. I salute you all. We stay rocking that blue and orange. Ain’t another betta than my HBA family!
* * *
God bless whomever is reading this. Make sure you check out the titles listed below.
Coldhearted & Crazy
Ruthless and Rotten
No Home Training
Tick, Tick, Boom!
A Product of the System
The System Has Failed
Homeless
Testify
I Can Touch the Bottom
Young & Hungry
Say U Promise Saga
Full Figured 9
Around the Way Girls 10
Get It How Ya Live
Girls From da Hood 13
Carl Weber’s Kingpins: Detroit
Hustle Bag
When You Cross a Crazy Bitch
Stage Hustle
Married to the Shooter
. . . and many others.
Prologue
Once upon a time in a Detroit Westside ghetto, there lived a boy and a girl—or in hood terminology, a dude and a chick, whichever word you prefer to use.
Now the chick, Keisha Marie Jackson, might not have been the prettiest female from the Motor City, considering an awful case of acne often distracted from her pretty chestnut brown eyes. With her extra-thick waistline and double-cheeseburger-supersize-fries ass, Keisha was definitely not the skinniest. However, rest assured ole girl had her shit together business-wise. You know the type I’m talking about: good job, killer wardrobe, brand new truck, and a real go-getter attitude. She came from an upper-class privileged family—a two-parent household, huge home in a gated community, and a strict Catholic education at an exclusive all-girls’ boarding school. She had the world by the tail and a bright, promising future. Wherever the big girl went, she s
urely slayed. Without question, she came, saw, and turned up with the best of them. Keisha was that deal and had no problem whatsoever letting folk know. Not cocky or arrogant, she was just confident. Her weight was just a part of her personality. She was good with it and owned it. But, never having truly been with a man before, that part of her life made her vulnerable to bullshit. Men were the kryptonite to her Superwoman shield.
Getting his honorary degree in the streets, Rico Campbell, the boy . . . here we go! He was a horse of a different color. Born to be trouble, thug ran deep in his veins. It was as if he maybe knew better but didn’t choose to care. Abrasive around the edges in every sense of the word, he only attended school for the two things that mattered to him the most—free lunch and trying to push up on the females. Coming from a broken home, Rico suffered from a bad case of the three capital U’s: Uneducated, Unemployed, and Unwilling to commit to any one woman. He had no home training. His attitude stayed negative. He wanted what he wanted by any means necessary. Considered a pretty boy by most, Rico rocked shoulder-length dreads, carved-out sideburns, and sagging jeans that were his trademark. His roughneck swag made him desired by every woman he met.
Unfortunately, Keisha was no different, and she would soon find out that even if a big black dick glitters like a motherfucker, it ain’t always gold. The only thing that could save her from herself was herself.
Chapter One
It was exactly 4:53 in the a.m. and the occupants of the small, brick-framed house on Tyler and Linwood Avenue were awakened by the sound of the buzzing alarm. Five days a week like clockwork (no pun intended), it was the same routine in the two-person household. Keisha would break her neck trying to get to work on time, while Rico lay around doing what he did best—talking cash shit.
“Come on now. Hurry your fat ass up before I fall back out,” Rico warned, stretching his arms and yawning. With blunt-burnt fingertips, he wiped the sleep out the corners of each half-shut eye. “I’m tired as hell. You know I had a long night!”
Keisha fumbled in the mirror with a comb and a bottle of spritz. Desperately trying to fix the sew-in her man had destroyed banging her body against the headboard in an attempt to bust his second nut, she frowned while sucking her teeth. “I’m hurrying, boy. Damn, if it wasn’t for you wanting to have sex twice earlier this morning, I would’ve been ready. So, just chill out, okay? In addition, ain’t nobody tell your slick behind to be out half the night doing God knows what and to who! It doesn’t make any kinda sense.”
“I do what the fuck I wanna do and to whoever the fuck I wanna do it to. You betta act like you know.” Naked as the day he was born, Rico swung his legs out the king size bed. Still groggy, he grabbed the wrinkled blue jean shorts he’d worn the day before. Putting them on, he yawned once more. “And bitch, please. Don’t tell me jack shit about chilling out. You gonna mess around and be walking up to Davison on your own! You feel me?”
“I’m just saying, Rico, dang.” She slightly backed down, sensing an ass-kicking coming on.
Reaching over for his wheat-colored Tims, Rico angrily slid his sockless feet inside. Making his way to the bathroom, he yelled out as he took an early morning piss. “Keisha, don’t nobody wanna be hearing all that lip. If ya keep running that big mouth of yours, I might stuff something else up in there. You understand me?”
“Whatever.”
“Yeah . . . it’s gonna be whatever.”
“Rico, please.”
“Okay, bitch. Keep talking. I told you the old Rico is back.”
With dick still in hand, at six feet tall, he soon stood towering over a short-in-height but extra-thick-in-build Keisha. His overbearing presence, however, meant nothing at this point as she continued to low-key complain about their early morning freak-fest Rico demanded on the regular.
“Go on somewhere, all right? I’m already gonna be late to the bus stop.” She hardly acknowledged his dick.
“So what?” He eagerly stroked his semi-hard manhood, wedging Keisha between the cheap imitation oak grain dresser and his body. “What’s that supposed to mean to me? Huh? You running around here waking me up, bugging on some dumb shit and acting so worried where I was last night and who was getting this good dick, so what?”
Brushing past him, Keisha glanced at the digital blinking clock. “So what is if I miss that first bus, you know I’m gonna be late to work. My boss already warned me if I’m late anymore there was gonna be major consequences.”
“Consequences!” Rico loudly laughed, searching for the half blunt he’d left on the nightstand. “How the hell the next person gonna regulate my woman’s time?” With his shit still standing at full attention, he blazed up. “Ya ass belongs to me! I call the shots! Ya ain’t banging that pale-face white cracker, is you?”
“Don’t be stupid, Rico.”
“Then real rap, fuck some consequences.” He inhaled the last of the overpriced Kush then tossed the tail in the ashtray. “You know I got that good dick, don’t you, Keisha. You better act like you know, bitch.”
“Whatever! I gotta go.”
Yanking the woman who practically worshiped him by her freshly ironed white blouse, Rico twisted Keisha’s frame around. “Whatever this.”
“No, stop, Rico. I’m gonna be late. My boss said—”
“Shut the hell up.” His stale, hot morning breath filled her right ear as he shoved her upper body down on the top of the dresser. “Tell ya boss I’m running this here.” Maliciously, he snatched Keisha’s knee-length skirt up to her waist, revealing a heart-shaped tattoo on one cheek with his name inked dead in the center.
“Wait,” Keisha protested, trying to rise up.
“Wait, wait,” he taunted, mocking her cries while marveling at her flawless apple bottom. “Yo, let daddy put this good dick back up in that fat-ass pussy.” Showing his Linwood/Dexter mentality, Rico swished around a huge glob of saliva. Opening his mouth, disrespectfully, the jobless neighborhood bully let the spit drop down on Keisha’s huge backside. Smearing it on both sides of her plumpness, his hand spanked it repeatedly, making it appear to dance. “Hell fucking yeah. Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Enjoying the sight of her cheeks jiggling and the wetness oozing down her crack, he bit at the corner of his lower lip. The veins in his eight-inch curved penis pulsated, and the blood rushed quickly to the head.
“Please don’t,” she begged with each stinging smack echoing throughout the bedroom. “You hurting me. I’m telling you that hurts.”
“Come on now, girl, stop fronting. As many dicks, tongues, and other bullshit that been up in this played-out cat of yours, I know this good dick right here ain’t hurting you. You’s a trooper, so shut up and start acting like one.” Ignoring her tearful pleas, Rico savagely ripped one side of his live-in girlfriend’s lace-trimmed thong, exposing her entire behind.
Raising his index finger up to his lips, he stuck his tongue out, licking it. Having no remorse or mercy, Rico violated Keisha’s rear hole. Soon using two wet fingers, he stretched her once snug anus wide open.
“Make it jump for daddy,” he demanded, watching her body jerk upward.
Yeah, this bitch gonna pay for popping off at the mouth.
“Is you banging your boss, you desperate ho? Huh? Is you?” he hissed as he relentlessly kept at it. “Tell me! Tell me!”
She wanted to turn around and smack the shit outta him or at least tell him he was a bald-faced liar and what he was saying wasn’t true, but Keisha knew deep down it was. Since hooking up with Rico, she had been what most would consider a slut or a rat. She did participate in some of the most disrespectful sexual acts a person could imagine, and his asking was she banging her boss wasn’t far from the truth. The fact was she did suck him off again the week before just for the hell of it all.
“Urrrgh, please, Rico, don’t.” Obviously in pain from his unprovoked, perverted attack, in agony she screamed, whimpering for mercy.
However, he couldn’t care less. “Shut the fuck up, Keisha. I’m w
arning you. If you don’t wanna miss the whole day at that stupid uppity job of yours, you better be still and treat daddy right.”
“No!”
“What?”
“Rico, don’t!”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“No, no, don’t! My hair!”
“Fuck your hair!”
“You hurting my back bent like this!”
“Do you really think I give a sweet shit?”
“Stop! Why you doing this?”
“Damn, Keisha, shut the fuck up and get off into this big dick!”
Keisha struggling to get away only made Rico’s shit throb harder and his sudden rage intensify. With one hand wrapped around his swollen shaft, he began rubbing the helmet-shaped head of his cock up and down her crack.
“Rico . . . don’t . . . please.” She tensed up, having one of her frequent migraines.
“Mmmm, this shit feel good as a motherfucker! Tell daddy you want this good dick. Tell me.” Using the other hand, he snatched at her blouse, causing the buttons to pop off one by one and fall to the carpeted floor. No sooner had her sky blue lace bra been exposed than Rico groped her breasts, daring Keisha to resist his demands. As her oversized titties dangled, his dick grew what seemed like another half an inch.