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These niggas kill me with that shit, askin’ a bitch if her pussy’s his. Sometimes I wanna scream, “Yeah, muhfucka, for the moment! I got it out on loan to ya dumb ass.” But I always keep it cute and let the nigga think what he wants. Anyway, the more shit he talked, the wetter my pussy got. The harder he fucked me, the hotter my pussy got. The muhfucka had my insides on fire. My juices gushed out, ’causin’ his dick to splash in and out of my wetness.
“Yeah, nigga,” I moaned. “Fuck ya pussy, muhfucka. Mmmph. That’s right, get all up in ya pussy.”
I almost lost it when the nigga wrapped his hands up in my wigpiece and started yankin’ me by the back of my hair. I threw my hands up over my head and held on for dear life. Oh my God, I thought the nigga was gonna rip the shit right offa my head. I had to reach in back of me and pry his damn hands outta my wig. I was glad I had that shit packed on tight with a bunch of bobby pins. But, I still couldn’t take any chances with him snatchin’ my shit off.
“Let me get on top, and ride ya fat cock,” I said, hopin’ to get in control of the situation before he had my wig in his muthafuckin’ big-ass hands. Thankfully, he was ready for me to ride him down into the mattress. He slowly pulled his dick outta me.
We changed positions, and this time I straddled on top of him, then reached up underneath me and stuffed his dick up in me. That was better. I made a note to myself to never, ever, let another nigga I had to body hit this pussy from the back. From now on, I’d be on top at all times. I slammed down on his dick. Gave him the ride of his life, then leaned over and reached under the mattress for my gun. I held it in my hand, grindin’ down on his dick, pressin’ and brushin’ my clit against the shaft of his cock.
I let out another loud moan, glancin’ over at the clock: 3:15 a.m.
“Aaah, shit,” he groaned. “I’m gettin’ ready to nut, baby. Oh, shit…this pussy. Is. So. Fuckin’. Good.”
“Give me that nut, daddy,” I said, tightenin’ my grip on my piece. “Bust all up in ya pussy, baby.”
“Oh, shit…”—he thrust deep up into me, grabbin’ me by the hips—“I’m. Cum—”
Theessrrpp!
I shot him between the eyes, then continued ridin’ him until I came all over his dick again. When I was finished, I rolled up off of him, wiped his ass down, removed the sheets, then tossed the spread up over him. I quickly slipped into my clothes, gathered my shit, then quietly walked outta his hotel room.
I pulled my phone outta my bag, turned it on, dialed Cash’s number, then pressed send. “What’s good?”
“I know why the caged bird sings,” I said, walkin’ off the elevator toward my hotel room. I slid the key into the door.
“That’s what it is. I’ll get at you.”
“Yeah, make sure you do,” I replied before hangin’ up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Three weeks later, word on the street was that that nigga who beat my mom’s ass was out on bail, and she was released from the hospital. Good for her, I thought when I heard the news. I still wasn’t fuckin’ with her ass. They were probably holed up in her room fuckin’ like two banshees. Interestingly enough, she had tried callin’ me a few times. I guess to let me know she was outta the hospital. Then again, knowin’ her ass she was gonna try to come at me on some other shit—even with a wired-ass jaw she was probably gonna try ’n pop shit. I guess she knew not to leave me any damn messages ’cause I wouldn’t listen to ’em if she did.
I hadn’t really been playin’ Brooklyn too heavy either. Most of my time was spent in SohHo, midtown, or the upper east and west sides. Other than that, I kept my ass in Jersey. Chanel was already talkin’ ’bout movin’ back to Brooklyn. And on some real shit, I was really startin’ to miss Brooklyn as well. There was somethin’ ’bout its vibe and a Brooklyn nigga’s swagger that made a bitch’s pussy moist. And I was seriously thinkin’ ’bout sellin’ my spot and buyin’ a cute brownstone somewhere over in Prospect Park or the Grand Army Plaza area. But I also liked the luxury of bein’ ’cross the water away from all the hustle. Besides, my spot was laced lovely.
Anyway, I still wasn’t fuckin’ with Tamia’s crusty-pus-pocket ass either. And Iris’s dumb ass finally popped up on the scene after bein’ ghost for almost a week and some change, talkin’ some bullshit ’bout travelin’ with that nigga she was mulin’ for. Humph, whatever! The bitch stayed away from me, and didn’t return my phone calls. I knew it had nothin’ to do with her knowin’ that I knew she had sucked Naheem’s dick, ’cause when I called her ass I kept it real cute, actin’ like I wanted to get caught up. The bitch didn’t wanna hear my mouth ’bout how she was makin’ her ends. Not that I had any room to come at her neck ’bout it, but…humph, fuck her! Either way you looked at it, the bitch had it comin’. It was only a matter of time before the ho slipped or got caught up.
Chanel tried to convince her to stop fuckin’ with that nigga and runnin’ drugs for his ass. But the bitch said she knew what she was doin’. I told Chanel not to even stress that shit. If the bitch wanted to be a mule, then let her. Sometimes you gotta know when to let a know-it-all bitch do her ’cause that’s the only way they gonna learn. Bitches like Iris gotta fall real hard, bang they heads, then get up and start runnin’ in circles before they realize they done got they asses stuck in the middle of a fire. So when Chanel called me all frantic and whatnot last night, I knew Iris’s day had come. I was pissed that I didn’t get a chance to smash her fuckin’ lights in first.
“Kat, girl, you not gonna believe this shit,” Chanel said, talkin’ all fast ’n shit. “Hurry up and turn on ya TV. Iris done got her dumb-ass grill splattered all over the news.”
“What?!” I shrieked, jumpin’ up off the sofa and racin’ over to get the remote off the entertainment center. I turned the power on, then started flippin’ through the channels. “What channel?”
“Two, four, seven, take ya damn pick,” she said. “Hurry up and turn the shit on.”
I pressed the buttons for channel two, and almost passed the hell out when I saw Iris’s face plastered on the screen, along with eight niggas and two other bitches, behind the white reporter chick with the pressed-powder makeup. “Breaking news,” she said, talkin’ into the camera. “Federal authorities have dismantled a global drug ring in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut allegedly headed by a Long Island man authorities have identified as Marcellus Bryant…”
“Can you believe this shit?” Chanel asked, interruptin’ my concentration. “They gonna slay her dumb ass. Didn’t we get at her ’bout this shit a few months ago?”
We? Humph. I shook my head, iggin’ her ass. “Chanel,” I shot back, “will you shut the fuck up and let me finish listenin’ to what the bitch is sayin’! Geesh.”
“…Undercover DEA agents bought large quantitities of cocaine about a year ago and that purchase has led to the arrests of twenty-eight people, seizure of more than three million dollars’ worth of cocaine, a hundred-and-fifty pounds of marijuana, and close to five-and-a-half million dollars’ worth of Ecstasy tablets. Along with the drugs, authorities confiscated a cache of assault weapons, pistols, swords, bulletproof vests, and approximately two-hundred-and-eighty thousand dollars in cash in making arrests over the past four months. Marcellus Bryant, thirty-two, who commanded and controlled the New York nexus of the drug ring, was arrested this morning along with…”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearin’ and seein’. The shit was unreal. Like I said, I knew this shit was gonna happen. I didn’t know it was gonna pop off so soon, and to that fuckin’ degree. This bitch was in way over her head. And I bet her ass didn’t have no paper stacked for bail, or lawyers. Retarded bitch!
“Her mother is gonna flip her noodle when she hears this shit,” Chanel said. “Hold on, T’s callin’ on the other line.” I rolled my eyes, listenin’ to the reporter list the rest of the fools arrested while she had me on hold talkin’ to Tamia’s smutty ass.
“…and Iris Pines”—the news camera zoomed in on her grill then showed her bein’ escorted in handcuffs by five agents—“twenty-four, of Brooklyn, New York, who was in possession of a black gym bag containing fifty pounds of cocaine, more than five-and-a-half pounds of heroin, and approximately a hundred thousand dollars in cash. The defendants are being held on bails ranging from forty-five thousand to five million dollars…”
