Hooked (4 page)

It's late. Later than he usually goes out on a pickup, and now he curses himself the entire way there for forgetting how long a walk it was when he decided he could put it off for another hour this afternoon.

He always walks to pickups, just if for no other reason than to stay low-profile. Kinda hard to stay low-profile in an Escalade truck with twenty-two inch rims on it. So he walks.

At least the weather is nice tonight. Crisp air, not too warm, not too cool. The fall season has just started to appear and while the L.A days are still a bit warm, the nights are just right.

Tonight will be a good night, he keeps telling himself over and over as he walks the thirteen blocks to the corner for the meet. He wonders what kind of girl he'll get sent tonight. Of course they all want to be working when "that cute white boy" comes to pick up his shit, but he's more into looking and not touching.

Too bad for him the exchange has to happen with physical contact. Something natural to a passerby: a hug, a handshake, copping a feel...but usually the delivery girls are the ones copping a feel. Coke groupies, doing anything and everything to get a free hit on a line. Working in the houses, a whole street almost completely abandoned, at least that's the front they put on, but it's all a cover up for bulk narcotics distribution.

Lex's been at the corner for at least five minutes now. He starts to get nervous, fidgety, looking over his shoulder. It's fucking dark outside and he's on the corner in a god damned bad part of town.

"Hey baby..."

He hears the voice behind him, soft and feminine, and he turns suddenly. She's grinning at him like fucking Christmas morning in her high heels and short-shorts, her tank top barely covering her navel, cleavage pushed up almost under her chin. He rolls his eyes discreetly as she approaches him slowly. These girls get off on this shit, and he just wants to score his stash and get outta this part of town before midnight.

"What are you doing out on the streets this late?" he asks the question precisely, awaiting the answer that will insure that she's the girl he's supposed to meet up with.

"Just needed to cool off. I'm hot." Bingo. She's the one.

She grabs his wrists and he sighs, turning his head away from her as she takes his arms around her body, sliding his hands into her back pockets. She's forward. She would probably try to kiss on him if he'd let her. But he won't.

He feels them there, the four baggies in her back pockets, an ounce in each. He gauges the weight against his hands. She grinds her hips into his, moaning softly, and he sighs again, annoyed, unaffected by her advances as he palms the baggies, sliding them slowly and discreetly from her pockets into his own. Four ounces down, six to go. There's no telling where else this girl has baggies hidden, but he's getting impatient with her.

"C'mon baby." She reaches down to touch him through his sweats and he jumps back from her.

"Cut that shit out," he warns, but she just giggles at him.

She hooks her thumbs into the belt loops of her shorts, tapping her front pockets with her fingertips and he rolls his eyes. He steps toward her, turning his head again as he pushes his fingers into her pockets. She runs her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, her tongue sneaking out to wet his neck and he jerks his head back quickly. "Fucking stop!" he orders as he works four more baggies out and slips them into his pockets.

"Two more," she whispers, holding up a finger, wagging it at him before using it to pull down on the neckline of her tank top. Of course that's where it fucking is.

"Son of a bitch," he mutters under his breath, and she grins at him, biting her lip. "You get off on this shit, don't you?" He cocks his head to the side at her, narrowing his eyes a little.

"You want your shit or not? What...you're not man enough? Little pussy baby boy can't touch no tits but his momma's?" She sticks her chest out a little when she says it and he laughs, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

"Listen..." He steps closer to her, speaking slowly, "I've got a pair of tits waiting on me back at my house...and they don't belong to my mother. So if you think that I walk my ass down here, halfway across town, just to feel you girls up cause I can't get pussy anywhere else...you're sadly mistaken."

He snakes his hand down between her breasts while she's still taken back from his words, grabbing the bags of coke out of her bra and pushing them into his pocket, quickly replacing them with a roll of bills.

"That's half upfront, I'll pay the rest later. Have a good night," he grins, grinding out his parting words in a sarcastic manner, turning quickly in the opposite direction, leaving her there stunned on the corner.

He strides quickly back down the street, figuring the faster he walks, the quicker these thirteen blocks will be under his feet and he'll be back at home, safe and sound with his shit. But after about eight blocks, the last thing he expected was for an LAPD car to roll up beside him.

"Fuck..." he curses under his breath, hanging his head and watching his feet shuffle quickly over the concrete, clutching the six baggies of coke in his hoodie pocket, feeling the other four bump softly against his thighs inside the pockets of his sweats. Ten ounces on him...that's five years in jail minimum, no questions. His chest tightens slightly.

The cop rolls down his window, creeping down the street next to Lex. "Well, Mr. Taylor...fancy seeing you walking down these streets at this time of night..."

Lex sighs and purses his lips, finally glancing over into the window of the cop car, and he recognizes the man immediately. David Starke. The same cop who has tried to arrest him twice, pulling him over for random traffic violations and searching his car, always coming up disappointed when he couldn't pin Lex for a single thing. Cops aren't stupid, they know who deals drugs in this town, but nailing them down is another story.

"Just enjoying the night, Officer," he grins, turning his attention back to the path he's walking, head straight forward and nodding a bit to the rhythm of his steps.

"Where you headed, son?" Officer Starke asks out the window.

Lex smiles a bit, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, deciding whether or not he should be a real asshole right now, just because. He knows this cop can't do anything to him, he's just walking down the street.

"Home...gonna have a few beers...probably fuck my girlfriend..." he grins, turning his head to meet the eyes of the man, "Oh, and I'm not your son."

"No...you sure aren't. I don't know which one of us is more thankful for that." Lex tosses his head back in laughter at the man's statement. "But that's quite a smart little mouth you've got on you, boy."

Lex grins again, that cocky asshole grin, peering in the open window of the car, never stopping his stride. "You wanna know more about my mouth...you should ask your daughter. And tell her I said hi, too." He laughs at his own joke, but the officer isn't amused.

"I'm tellin' you, Taylor...you better behave yourself," he warns, and Lex drags one hand from the front pouch of his hoodie, cupping his crotch and turning his hips toward the car.

"Behave this, Officer," he muses, raising his eyebrows with a smile, and the car speeds off down the street as Lex flips the bird in a parting gesture.

_______________________________________________________________

I had been gone for five days after the fight before I showed up at his place again. He cuts his eyes over at me with a smirk from his recliner as I sink down into the couch with a loud sigh.

"What?" I question his glance curtly, and he snickers a bit, turning back to watch some random movie that's playing on TV.

"Nothin'...I'm just surprised you're showing your face around here after that fucked up shit you pulled the other day." He keeps his focus on the television, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Look, I fucking apologized, ok? It's over...it happened. Neither of us can do anything about it now." My eyes burn into him as I speak, but he still doesn't look at me. He just watches that damn TV, chewing on his lips absentmindedly.

"Still...it was fucked up. I should be fucking livid at you right now." His voice is flat, and I don't know if he's really hearing me, his mind seemingly occupied with the movie.

"Well, are you?"

He smirks, turning his head slowly, tongue playing along the inside of his mouth. "...Maybe."

"Fuck you." I push myself up off the couch, rolling my eyes as I brush past him into the kitchen, but he reaches out for my wrist, pulling me to a stop.

"No, you were a fucking bitch. I never thought you'd do something fucked up like that. That's like...
betrayal
or something," he spits the words condescendingly and I snatch my wrist from his hand but he grabs the belt loops of my jeans, tugging me forward until my knees drop between his on the seat of the recliner, my weight falling forward. I put my hands out quickly, bracing myself against the back of the chair on either side of his shoulders, and the chair rocks slightly with the force of our movement.

"Well, I'm sorry! What...you want me to make it up to you?" I switch my head at him, whining out the last words, mocking his seemingly hurt disposition.

"Yeah." He licks his lips, narrowing his eyes at me.

"How?" I twist up my face at my inquiry, because part of me already knows what he'll say. At least I think I do.

"Well, I mean you should probably just blow me or something."

Ok, that wasn't what I was expecting
.

"Fuck you! That's not a fucking apology. You're such a dick." I push back on the chair, pulling myself hard onto my feet but his hands grip my sides, holding me strong, chuckling as I struggle.

"I'm being fucking serious! You owe me."

"You're such an asshole." I finally stop fighting him, glaring down at him, seething, but he just grins at me. He knows I'll give in.

"And you fucking love me. C'mon..." he lowers his voice, eyes softening at me as a grin plays on his mouth. I sigh loud, perturbed, throwing my head back with a groan.

"I fucking hate you," I grind out the words, but my tone isn't convincing. He pushes down on my hips and my knees bend, hitting the floor between his feet and he grins down at me, leaning forward to bring his face close to mine.

"Bullshit. You're doing too much talking down there," he says, touching his nose to mine before sitting back in the chair, letting his hands fall down beside his thighs.

I glare at him for a long second, raising an eyebrow and pursing my lips. He just nods down at his lap, gesturing quickly with his eyes, raising an eyebrow back at me in a silent challenge.

I narrow my own eyes at him, shaking my head slowly before I sigh reluctantly and slide my hands up his thighs. He smirks and slides down in the chair victoriously, spreading his knees wider.

I tuck my fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and he lifts his hips as I slide them down his legs and drop them at his feet. I press my torso between his thighs and I can feel him long and thick against my ribs as I push his t-shirt up under his arms, fingers dragging slowly down his tattooed ribs and over his sides. I kiss and lick the soft skin of his belly right above his boxers, eliciting a moan low in his chest.

I grip his thighs, fisting the material of his boxers as I tug them down his hips slowly, tortuously...exposing the flesh beneath his navel inch by inch. I stop just before the elastic waistband at the base of his hardening cock, trapping him down beneath the soft cotton material.

He releases his head back, groaning loud in protest but I smile against his skin as I suck slowly on his V-line, licking down into the crease where his thigh meets his hip, and I can feel his dick twitch against my breasts as I bump him gently between the legs with my body. He sighs and pushes his hips up impatiently and I just laugh softly.

"C'mon, Leala..." he's almost whimpering, his voice tight and breathy in his throat.

I lift my eyes to his and his head is pushed to the side, back arching a bit in the chair, wiggling anxiously. I laugh again, returning my focus to his lap and I bite at my lower lip instinctively as I see him outlined perfectly against the thin material, begging for release.

I glance up at him quickly once more before lowering my face between his legs, reaching the tip of my tongue out to run it slowly up the length of him, right over his boxers and I hear him curse as his knees fall farther open in reaction.

"Shit..."

I finally slip him out gently as I push his boxers to his ankles and his head falls back as I take him in my hand. I hold him steady at the base, giving him a light squeeze, smiling as I watch him take his full bottom lip between his teeth.

I lick my lips before closing them around the tip of him, sucking sweetly as my mouth pulls off before I run my tongue along the ridge underneath the head of his shaft. His mouth falls open, eyes rolling back slowly as they slide closed.

"Yeah, just like that..."

His hand reaches out, touching my shoulder and I feel his long fingers wrapping around the back of my neck, threading up into my hair to palm the back of my head, pulling me gently toward him in suggestion.

I consent, opening my lips and sliding my mouth down the length of him, pressing up on the under side of his thickness with my tongue until he hits the back of my throat. I hear him groan from deep in his gut, his thighs tensing under my palms.

"Suck my dick like you're sorry," he orders. "Suck it like you mean it."

I suck hard as I pull off, working my tongue around him the best I can. I feel him fist my hair in his hand, grunting out expletives as I slide back down again, faster this time, but I pull back with the same slow pace, licking lazily around the head.

He's panting now as I work him at a steady pace: fast down, slow pulling back, much like he would do if he were fucking me, pulling out slow and slamming back into me forcefully. I feel his other hand in my hair and his breaths are quicker now, moans and sighs falling from his lips as I bob up and down the length of him at increasing speed. Fucking him with my mouth.