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“What?”
“Nah, it’s nothin’.”
Now, I started to leave it alone. And if someone asked me why I even pushed the shit, I couldn’t tell you. I guess ’cause I dug the nigga and I really did wanna know what he was thinkin’. So I pushed the issue.
“’C’mon, don’t try ’n play me for slow,” I said, grabbin’ at his dick. Mmmph.
His dick was nice ’n thick, and slowly growin’. “I can tell you got somethin’ on ya mind, so share.” I held my breath, already knowin’ where this was gonna go.
“I’m tryna figure you out,” he stated, “that’s all.”
“And what are you tryna figure out?” I asked, bracin’ myself.
“I’ve asked you several times how you made ya paper, and I still haven’t gotten a real answer…any answer, for that matter.” He sighed, sittin’ up on his forearm, lookin’ up. Now, in my head, I’m thinkin’, You need to curse this nigga out real quick for tryna clock ya flow. You don’t ask him how he’s collectin’ his dough so he don’t need to be askin’ you shit ’bout how you movin’. I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from comin’ at him real slick. He pulled me into his arms. “Listen…I’m diggin’ you. And I’m tryna make shit happen with you, but I need to know what’s really good with you. You say you ain’t fuckin’ any other muhfuckas, but you always jettin’ off somewhere. Please tell me you ain’t pushin’ weight for some nigga or somethin’.”
I twisted my lips up. “Are you fuckin’ serious? A bitch like me would never play herself and be some nigga’s mule. I ain’t that bitch.”
“Okay, so how you livin’, then? You stay dipped ’n shit in all the ill flavors, you pushin’ hot whips, and ya spot is tight. Not that I’m tryna get in ya pockets or anything. I’m just tryna see where ya head is at; how you gettin’ ya hustle on.”
“I’m a consultant,” I told him, hopin’ that would keep him satisfied. The lie rolled off my tongue and outta my mouth so quick, I didn’t have a chance to think it all the way through. A consultant! What the fuck?! I thought to myself, regrettin’ I even said that shit. I decided to add a little extra. “And my moms came into some money and laced me ’bout two years ago so I was able to make some things happen.”
“Hmm,” he said, eyein’ me. I could tell the nigga wasn’t buyin’ it. But he let it go—for the moment, anyway. “When you leavin’?”
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“And when you comin’ back?”
I didn’t know what the fuck was up with all the damn questions, but I answered anyway. “Late tomorrow night.”
He frowned. “And what type of consultin’ you do again?”
I put muhfuckas outta they misery. But of course I couldn’t tell his ass what I was thinkin’. Hell, I couldn’t really tell him much of anything. I mean, on some real shit, how do you tell a nigga you tryna be fly with that you fuckin’ niggas, then blowin’ they brains out at point-blank range? That with a kiss on a nigga’s lips and sweet whispers in his ear, you’ll shoot him between the eyes while straddled on top of him, slammin’ down on his dick? I mean, really. That’ll fuck a nigga’s head up; have him thinkin’ ya ass is nuts or you some borderline psycho bitch. Fuck, I thought, takin’ a deep breath, tryna figure out what I was gonna say to keep his ass from tryna sniff out more than what he needed to know. I shoulda knew this nigga wasn’t gonna just let this shit go. I tried to think fast, but came up blank. So, a bitch did the next best thing. I pressed my lips against his, slid my tongue into his mouth, then grabbed at his dick. At first he sat there like he was in a trance, but I kept massagin’ his dick and kissin’ him. Slowly, his hands started roamin’ all over my body. He started squeezin’ my titties and pushin’ himself up into me as I ground my ass onto his dick. I slowly sucked on his earlobe, lickin’ ’round the edges, then dartin’ my tongue in and out of his ear. Yeah, he knew I was tryna changin’ the subject and it was workin’. I was smart enough to know that this wasn’t gonna stop him from askin’ me again how I stacked my paper but, for the moment, it was gonna keep him from askin’ me anythin’ else until I could figure out what I was gonna tell ’im. On some real shit, I knew there was no way I was gonna be able to dip outta town the way I do if I was gonna fuck with his ass on some serious-type shit without problems. Oh, well…I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. In the meantime, I’d keep it cute, and give him the bare minimum.
I whispered in his ear, “I wanna suck all over ya thick, black dick.”
He lowered his voice. “Oh, word?”
I nodded, kissin’ him on his lips and neck, then slitherin’ my way down his body in between his legs, reachin’ for his dick. “Can I suck daddy’s big dick?” I asked, as if I was beggin’ for it. I slowly licked my lips, pullin’ his dick outta the slit of his boxers. I flicked my tongue across the head. “Oh, I need daddy’s dick real bad.” He lifted his arms up, then locked his fingers together, placing them under his head, spreadin’ his legs wider apart. He lifted his hips and allowed me to remove his underwear all the way down to his ankles. His dick was brick. “Oh, yes,” I said, grabbin’ his dick at the base, lickin’ the drool from the corners of my lips. “Look at all this big dick. Mmm…you got a pretty dick.”
“Yeah, you love that dick, don’t you?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I moaned, kissin’ the tip of his dick. “I”—kiss—“love”—kiss—“it.”
He let out a soft moan as I nibbled and licked on his balls, then slid my tongue along the back of his dick. I slid my lips up and down it, from his balls back up to the tip of his dick, wettin’ it up real nice, glidin’ my tongue all over it. He moaned again. I smiled and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, and slowly gulped it down one inch at a time until I had his entire dick down in my throat. “Oh, shit, baby,” he groaned. “You tryna fuck a nigga’s head up.”
I increased the suction and neck bobbin’, while massagin’ and squeezin’ his balls. He grabbed the sides of my head, slowly pumped his hips, then face-fucked me until he shot his thick, creamy load down into my throat. Humph. There was nothin’ like lickin’ and suckin’ the nut outta a thick cock. Although I swallowed most of it, some still overflowed outta my mouth and dripped along the sides of his dick and down onto his balls. But a cum-hungry bitch like me never wastes a drop. I licked and slurped all around his balls and dick, then took him back into my mouth and sucked the remainin’ drops of his nut until his body shook, and his eyes rolled up in his head. And for the rest of the night, I wet his dick and kept him fucked down to the bone, hopin’ he wouldn’t press me for answers I was never gonna be ready to give.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Everything ain’t always what it seems…Niggas frontin’, bitches stuntin’…at the end of the day, it’s all a dream…so you better watch ya step…there ain’t no loyalty, there ain’t no love…just a bunch of niggas and bitches…grimy, ruthless, rotten to the core…
Biggie’s “Niggas Bleed” was blarin’ outta the Bose speakers of my sleek silver Jaguar XJ12 as I drove down the parkway, heading south toward Atlantic City. A bitch was feelin’ sexy and real horny. It was close to midnight, and the ride was smooth as fuck until I almost hit a damn deer that raced across the highway. I swerved to the right, quickly brakin’, then pressin’ down on the gas pedal, pushin’ one-ten. It takes a lot to shake a bitch like me, but the thought of havin’ a damn deer flipped up on my fuckin’ hood or comin’ through my windshield with its hoof in my grill had a bitch shook. I ain’t gonna front. But I sparked a blunt, took three deep pulls, and quickly pulled it together, thinkin’ ’bout my mark for the night.
I was gonna fuck him real good, then splatter his brains out. I pressed my thighs together, tryna pinch the excitement stirrin’ between my legs. Yes, I was gonna fuck this nigga to death, literally and figuratively. But then I felt guilty. Fuckin’ with Grant had my groove all jacked up. Like I already told ya, I was diggin’ the nigga. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to live a double life if I wanted to be wifed-up by his ass. I was glad his ass was outta town doin’ him for the weekend. Although fuckin’ these marks was strictly a part of how I handled my business, it would be cheatin’. So I decided I’d have to stop fuckin’ ’em if I was gonna rock with Grant. Yep, this is the last mark I’m fuckin’, I thought, veerin’ off the ramp onto the toll road for AC. From now on, I’ll just kill ’em on the spot. No extras.
I caught my reflection in my rearview mirror, pulled the front of my burgundy spiked, pixie-cut wig cap down a little, then made sure my self-made beauty mole over my lip was still in place. I adjusted my wire-framed Christian Dior glasses. I hated all these wigs and makeup ’n shit, but they were needed props. I pulled into the parkin’ garage for the Borgata, then checked inside my Gucci duffle bag to make sure I had e’erything. It was show-time.
I entered the fly-ass hotel, strutted through the casino toward the elevators to my mark’s suite. On the way up, somethin’ didn’t feel right. My gut told me to turn around and take my ass back home. I was startin’ to feel real paranoid ’bout shit, but knew I couldn’t back out. There was money to be made, and a body to be accounted for. What the fuck! I snapped in my head, steppin’ outta the elevator. I shoulda never smoked that shit. The closer I got to my mark’s room, the more shit didn’t feel right. So, I decided to follow my gut. I’m not fuckin’ this nigga; not tonight. In that split second, I decided I would just smoke his ass and bounce.
