Sex in the Hood Saga (30 page)

Knight's pipe was steaming again, about to bust after watching Tinkerbell rap the house with her clever spoken word rhymes. It took a minute, but now the masses were screaming for The Duchess like she was the hottest superstar around. And she would be, on many fronts.

Now all Knight had to do was make his chivalrous rescue of the damsel in Duke-stress, and let her sprinkle that pixie dust all over this urban empire and every territory that Knight wanted.

All night, he'd been watching her and Duke from this plush couch near the rail, shielded just enough by a circle of two dozen strong Barriors and B'Amazons. He had a clear view of her ass in those tight leather pants, now and when she rapped. And she took that knock-down by Milan like a champ. She shot back up onto the heels of those sexy-ass boots then body-slammed Milan into submission. The B'Amazons hauled away that poor, emaciated victim of her own manipulative evil and Duke's neglect. All while the Barriors carted Beamer's stupid ass away with her.

If Tinkerbell was scared on the inside, she don't look or act like it. Her soft, innocent appearance, yet sexy, strong behavior were making Knight want her so bad, he could taste her again.

He didn't brush his teeth on purpose so when he talked to Li'l Tut, he'd have Duchess pussy on his lips and on his breath.

Once she goes black as Knight, ain't no way she goin' back. Anywhere. She was physically standing next to Duke right now, but the chemical and spiritual reaction going on inside her was like an internal branding by the fire that started during that intergalactic star show as their bodies and souls united. His sperm was still up there. Now her uterus, her ovaries, her heart, her soul were branded in words of fire spewed by Knight's big, black pipe: PROPERTY OF KNIGHT JOHNSON.

“Let's move,” Knight said, his deep, sex-powered voice cutting through the ear, splitting cheers and bass rumble of the band.

Big Moe's hand grasped his arm. “Naw, man, we got this easy. But let him get all the way vulnerable for full effect.”

Easy was right. With all of Li'l Tut's mismanagement and failure to take action on plans laid years ago by Prince and Knight, the Barriors and B'Amazons couldn't wait for Knight to come back and make things right.

They operated entirely under Duke's stealth radar, giving Knight detailed reports about Milan—keeping her on the job despite blatant violations of trust. Izz's thievery. Duke's hot head flash and dash all over TV and the newspapers, drawing fed heat and reporters to Babylon. It was all because he brought that media magnet/federal fugitive, despised rich-mix girl up in the heart of the hood.

Knight was sure, when he first heard about it, that she'd have to go out with yesterday's trash along with Milan and Beamer. But Victoria Winston was gone. This chick was someone else entirely. She looked different, sounded different, felt different on the inside. Tonight wasn't just a test, where you drop a substance on chemical-treated paper to see if it sizzles or smokes or turns colors.

“Tonight is her blackness test,” Knight said.

Big Moe held up his hand, pressed his fingertips together at the top of his thumb then flicked his hand open like a magician tossing sparkle dust. “Black magic, mon. Ttttsssst! She sizzlin' an' smokin' an' sexin' like dis where she belong.”

To have and to hold, from this day forward.

Beamer shook just as hard as Milan as they knelt on the basement floor. She had already thrown up some green shit on his shirt. She was a mess with that long, curly-haired wig hanging on one side of her head, her real hair sticking out in a rat's nest that was so close it was scratching his cheek. She stared him down with eyes so wild and crazy, she looked like she would snap at him and bite down on the dick that got him into this trouble in the first place.

“I now declare you man and wife,” the two-dollar preacher from the corner church said over them with all seriousness in his voice. But who could take him seriously, standing there with no shirt and just black leather chaps that let his still wet dick hang loose at Beamer's eye level?

“Mr. Beamer, you get to kiss the bride now.”

His childhood dream to kiss Michelle Henderson was now finally coming true in the worst fucking nightmare he could have imagined. Driving his Hummer into that semi-truck the other night would have been a better future than locking down with this bitch and chain.

Duke stood by him with arms crossed over his chest, looking down at him like he wasn't shit.

“Y'all can take 'em to they honeymoon suite now,” Duke said, “so I can get back to my birthday party.”

The Barrior who grabbed Beamer's handcuffed wrists said to the other, “Bet, dude. Which one gon' kill tha otha one first?”

The other Barrior laughed. “I think they gon' get locked up in that room and make like Romeo and Juliet and end the drama right there with a double suicide.”

Beamer already knew the only way outta this was to stop breathing, because no way was Milan going to be in the mood for love when she was growling at Duke like that.

“Yeah, they gon' make war, not love.” The Barrior laughed. He turned to Beamer. “Yo, dude, a word of advice on yo' wedding night. I'd keep my dick on lock-down if I was you.”

Duchess sat on her throne, holding Duke's hand as they watched a writhing tangle of male and female strippers perform up close and personal. Beyond the dancers, a wall of Barriors and B'Amazons in head to toe ninja black formed a half-circle around them.

Duchess was still quaking with fear. The sinister, pounding rhythm of the music echoed her racing heart.

“Duke, baby,” she shouted so close to his head that her lip brushed his silver hoop earring. “I can't get our freak on when some other crazy bitch might come flyin' outta the crowd at me!”

He shook his head. “You don't ev'a have to worry about Milan again.”

“What about someone else?” she shot back. “The way you keep lookin' around, it's like you know some other whack shit is 'bout to break.”

“It won't.” He turned toward those bodies in black, caramel, and brown. They were making a long sandwich of bodies pressed together, all facing forward so their sides snaked in a slow-sexy groove for Duke and Duchess.

“Duchess,” he said with a delicious gust of his Black Cashmere cologne and natural musk. “All these pussies and dicks in here for me an' you. An' you love they stuff just as much I do. They all clean, so do yo' thang.”

He nodded at another girl who wore a tiny, light blue crocheted bikini and a silver belly chain that said BABY BLUE.

With the help of a gorgeous brown hunk behind her, she put her foot on the arm of the throne, yanked back her bikini crotch and opened her pussy in Duchess' face. The guy ran his big hand over it as if he were in a jewelry store waving a hand over the pearl counter for customers to pick one.

“Lick that pussy,” Duke ordered.

She stared at the Brazilian bikini-waxed flesh. Flawless.

The woman ran a fingertip over her pussy then sucked it loudly. Celeste was twitching, screaming.

Duchess touched the tip of her nose to the clit. Rolled her head so that her nose stimulated the chick just right.

“Damn girl, do dat.”

Duchess made a peace sign with her fingers, licked them then ran them down the pussy lips. Suddenly, another stripper was at her feet, another at her waist. They were taking her pants off.

Duchess ran the tip of her tongue from the bottom of the pussy up to the clit. The stripper sucked air and spit through her teeth. “Oooh, shit!”

At the same time, other girls helped Duchess ease out of her pants and thong. Duke, at her side, stroked Timbo.

He stuck his tongue out and they both chewed on Baby Blue's filet mignon. After a while, Duke slurped on Duchess' tongue then sat back to watch.

One stripper raised Duchess' right leg up to the arm of the throne, the opposite side as Baby Blue. On her knees, the stripper dove into Duchess' pussy.

“Oh yaaaay-yaaaaaah,” she moaned. The double pleasure was incredible, a mouth on her pussy while she sucked on a clit.

Her head spun. She was fueling her woman-power with double intensity, and Celeste was loving it. From suburban virgin to Detroit dick-lovin' dyke. Just keep it comin'.

Duchess peered over Baby Blue's thigh. Her eyes locked with Duke's. Who knew you could have such intimacy with a group? But the look in Duke's eyes screamed, I am yours. Forever.

Duchess was lapping it up like a kitten. Baby Blue groaned like it was her first time, or her best time. Nina licked Duchess' pussy with perfect precision. She hit that fire spot at the tip of her clit that Duchess could never hit herself. Brian always found it and made her cum quickly. Duke and Honey did too. Now Nina was there, on it. Damn, her clit felt like the center of the universe as Nina worked her tongue all over it.

From the sound of Baby Blue, Duchess was doing just as well. She imitated the way Duke made that windshield wiper motion, from light to harder pressure, all while finger-fucking her.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.