CHAPTER 7
I
t was a hot, rainy day in Texas and the light mist of water falling from the sky turned into steam as soon as it bounced off the pavement. “A'ight,” Barron said as him and Pilar rode in the backseat of a champagne-colored Rolls-Royce. They'd just had lunch at an exclusive Italian restaurant in Dallas, where Barron had been called away from his baked ziti by one of Viceroy's neurologists, who was checking in to update him on his father's condition. Viceroy seemed to be getting a little bit worse every day, and Barron was almost at the point where he hated taking the doctors' calls.
Flashing Pilar a quick grin, he flipped open a folder and took out a few sheets of paper. “I got an email from a dude named Dutchy Gaines today. He's a private investigator from Harlem who's itchin' to take the job.”
“How did you find him?” Pilar asked as she sat beside him smelling delicious and looking right luscious with her sexy legs crossed at the knee.
“One of my frats from college put me on to him. He said dude's whole family works in law enforcement. Dutchy is a probation officer who recently started his own PI firm.”
“Oh really?”
Barron nodded. “Yeah. It looks like he's pretty good, too. He's been finding all kinds of muddy footprints that Mink left behind, and he said I might wanna take a quick trip to New York so we can go over a few things in person.”
Pilar sat up straighter and a look of excitement flashed in her gray eyes. “So, are you gonna go? I think you should. I mean, you never know what kind of devastating information might be out there on her. You said this guy Dutchy is supposed to be good, right? Well, if he's following Mink's footprints then they'll probably lead him straight to a garbage dump. I think you should go, Barron. I really think you should go.”
A sexy look entered his eyes. “Ay, wassup? I thought you wanted to be with me all the time? You trying to get rid of me now, or what?”
“Oh, you know better than that,” Pilar joked, and then she leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. She slid her hand up his thigh and let it fall on his crotch. Sighing softly, she massaged his dick until it started to rise. Inching his zipper down, she inserted her fingers through the front hole of his boxers and stroked his thickening shaft.
Barron gripped her slim shoulders. He clenched his ass cheeks and thrust his pelvis toward her. He breathed deeply through his nose and slowly out of his mouth.
“Yo, roll the window up, Charlie,” he instructed his driver. The smoked panel of glass that separated the Rolls' front seat from the rear compartment slid up noiselessly. And as soon as it did, Pilar went to work.
With her cheek resting on Barron's chest, she slid his monster out of his pants and held it in her hand like it was her favorite pet. It was big, black, and beautiful and it stood straight in the air. Pilar gently fisted it, then let her palm glide up and down its length, masturbating him like an expert while he moaned and fucked up at her.
“Ahhh, shit,” Barron muttered as he flung his head back and pumped his hips.
As they sped down the highway with the sound of rushing traffic in their ears, Pilar stuck out her tongue and licked the tip of Barron's dick. She loved the way he tasted. The way his balls smelled. She sucked a sweet glob of cum from the head and gathered it around in her mouth before swallowing it with joy.
Barron reached for her breast and fingered her nipple into a pebble. He squeezed her firm flesh in his hand, and then palmed the back of her head and urged her to go lower, to take his dick and even his balls inside the warm wetness of her mouth.
“Baby . . .” he whimpered as her head bobbed in his lap. “You sure know how to suck some good dick,” he praised her.
Damn right,
Pilar thought as she felt sparks shoot off deep inside her pussy. She grunted as her head jutted up and down and a trail of saliva dribbled from her bottom lip. “Yeah, you can suck some damn good dick!”
Pilar was trying to suck that dick morning, noon, and night. Hell, once Barron put a ring on her finger she would slob on his knob multiple times a day if he wanted her to.
Determined to get him hooked, she moved in double-time now. Pilar jacked and licked, then tightened her lips and blew that dick until her cheeks collapsed and she felt the head swell up in the back of her throat. And then she hummed on that baby like she was about to break out in a song.
But Barron was the one who started singing as he banged up in her throat and his balls clenched and felt heavier than two giant stones.
“Oh, yeah!” he urged her into deeper, longer strokes as the wet fire in her mouth set a tornado swirling through his nuts and straight up in his bone. Pilar was giving up that wet-neck, and that shit felt so, so damn good. “Gimme that pussy,” Barron started chanting to the beat of his thrusts. “Gimme that . . . gimme that . . . gimme that good-ass neck pussy dammit!”
Pilar let the head of his dick slip past the trapdoor in her throat, and then she clenched down on it like she was trying to swallow. The soft, hot pressure on his tip sent Barron over the edge, and he slammed her head with his palm, then cried out as a powerful jet of cum spurted up from his balls and splashed straight down Pilar's throat.
“Ayghgagyhhh!” he cried out as his orgasm sent the nerves in his dick and his toes into overdrive. He held Pilar's head tightly in place as endless streams of hot liquid pulsed out of his jerking dick and filled her still-sucking mouth.
Pilar's lips trembled as she struggled to keep them gripped around his slowly shrinking dick. As Barron ran his fingers through her hair and massaged the back of her neck, she swallowed the warm semen in her mouth and gently squeezed his balls.
“That was good, baby,” he said when she finally sat up. Gazing into her sexy gray eyes, Barron reached out and caressed the side of her face. “That was real, real good.”
Pilar flashed him a smile and reached for her purse. “If you play your cards right, it can get even better than that,” she told him smoothly as she rubbed lip gloss on her perfectly shaped lips. “Stick with me, Bump, because it can get way better than that.”
Â
I was crashed the hell out in my panties and bra, sprawled flat on my stomach and snoring my ass off, when outta the darkness something heavy landed square on my back and pinned me down on the bed.
Ouch!
Pain exploded behind my eyes as my ponytail got yanked and my head snapped back on my neck. Something cold and hard dug into my neck, right under my jawbone.
“Whaaa?”
I opened my eyes and stammered in the pitch blackness of my room. I had spent the whole night getting my drank on down at Club Wood, and for the last two hours I had been lost in dreamland and slobbering puddles of leftover Erk and Jerk on my extra-plush pillow.
“Uh-huh,
bitch
,” a cold, deranged voice muttered in my ear as rough fingers slid around to my throat and squeezed. “I got yo slick ass now! Who the
fuck
you thought you was runnin' game on, Mink? What? You thought I was one of them ol'
ladee-da
niggas you be frontin' off in the streets, right?”
He was straddling my hips. Rough-riding my ass. Trapped under his weight, I broke out in a cold sweat as my windpipe was crushed and the name
Punchie Collins
exploded in my brain.
My skin got clammy. It was burning the hell up in that room. New York City was smack in the middle of a scorching-hot heat wave, and since me and Bunni was late on the electric bill I had left the window open so I could catch a little piece of the late-night breeze. But instead of a cool breeze slipping in my window, that crazy-ass Punchie Collins had pulled a straight-up cat burglar move on me. That psycho fool had crept up the fire escape and caught me sleeping, and I gagged like hell as he sat on my booty and choked the shit outta me.
“Don't
no
fuckin' body play Punchie and get away with that shit!” he growled in my ear and dug his fingers all up in the meat of my throat. “I want my
paper
, bitch!” He smushed my head in with the butt of his SIG. “And I want that shit rat' fuckin'
now
!”
“Wa-wa-wait!” I hollered, tryna stall him. I was caught out there all by myself. Peaches and Bunni had dipped to DC to visit their aunt, and I gasped and clawed at Punchie's rock-hard hand as I tried to buy myself some room to breathe.
“Hold up, P-P-Punchie,
wait
! Your boy Moolah already got me for my product, boo. I paid twenty-five large for a package and that fool stuck me up! Yo Moolah
got
me!”
That nigga igged me and swung his gat from way down in Alabama. He cracked me in the dome hard enough to make a thirty-man drum line boom in my head. A trickle of blood splashed from my temple and rolled down into my eyes. He mushed my face deeper into the pillow and laughed again.
“
You must think I'm some kinda fuckin' sherm, huh, Mink?” He started bouncing up and down on my ass like he was riding a pony. “I oughtta fuck the shit outta you! I oughtta shoot you right in ya stank pussy! I oughtta give you some of this big black dick you been wantin'!”
“But Moolah got meeee . . .”
I hollered all in my pillow as that nigga cracked my tailbone under his weight and bitch-slapped me upside my head with his tool over and over again. Even above the sound of the gun splitting my skull I could still hear Peaches' voice in my head warning me about the dangers of gankin' a throwed-off drug-slanga like Punchie:
You better watch yourself, Mink! You fucked with Punchie's money and he ain't going away, you know. I tried to tell you and Bunni that lil “catch-a-crackhead” scam was way too risky, but y'all just didn't wanna listen.
Peaches ain't never lied. Punchie was a fool for real. This dude was bent. Straight-up mental. I could feel the crazy rolling offa him and I knew he had snuck in my window to do way more than just ride my ass.
Something told me I was gonna have to scheme my way outta this trouble. If begging for mercy woulda made Punchie raise up offa me I woulda begged my sweet ass off, but Punchie wasn't the forgiving type and mercy wasn't in this nigga's nature. It wasn't even about the money with him no more. It was about giving him his propers and maintaining his street cred, and whether Moolah had given him the package I had dropped twenty-five large on or not, this nigga was fixin' to straight-up slump me. Yeah, by the time Peaches and Bunni got back home my cold body was gonna be stretched out right on this rickety little cot, and Punchie Collins wasn't gonna be nowhere to be found.
I cringed as the butt of his tool kept raining down on me fast and furious. “I should go up in your ass,” he bitched some more. He gripped my hip with one hand and started grinding and humping on my half-naked booty real hard. “
Yeah!
Uh!
Uh!
I should run my dick straight up your big donkey-donk ass!”
He started popping his hips, rubbing his crotch all over my ass, and then he got to gun-busting me again. “Slick
bitch
! You round here shoppin' Ӊ
whack!
â“and stuntin' ”â
whack!
â“and flossin' in limos and tossin' mad paper in the gutta.”
Whack!
He pounded me. “Fuck my nigga Moolah gettin' you! This
me
! I know you got some more bank on you! I know there's a whole lot more where you got that shit from! Now WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?”
“Okay!” I yelled as he pistol-whipped the hell outta me. I pressed my nose into the pillow and tried to cover both sides of my face with my hands. Punchie might break my fingers and dent my skull, but this nigga wasn't about to fuck up my mug if I could help it.
Don't fuck up my face,
I screamed inside as he beat me
.
“Okay, I'll give it to you!” I shrieked. “You can have it, Punchie! Whatever I got left you can have that shit!”
That maniac went completely still. “Well where it at, then?”
I knew I had fucked up the moment the words flew outta my mouth. For a second I started to tell Punchie to just continue on cracking my dome because all I had left was about five measly grand, and I was planning on laying that and some kinda bullshit sob story on Gutta when he got out.
Shiiit
, I was so scared of what that monster was gonna do when he found out I had spent his money that I woulda
much
rather let Punchie beat me to death than face Gutta empty-handed when he got sprung up outta the joint. Hell no. Death by Punchie would be way better than death by Gutta!
But all that whacking musta scrambled my brains 'cause suddenly I heard myself blurt out, “It's in the safe! Let me up and I'll open it!”
Punchie scrambled offa me in two seconds flat, and I cried out with relief as the crunched-in bones of my lower back snapped back in place. I rolled over and fell off the bed, landing hard on the floor at his feet. That idiot dug deep into my ribs with the thick toe of his boot and barked on me again.