Sex in the Hood Saga (41 page)

“We structure events based on the already established territorial lines,” she said. “Anything you host within the city limits, we split fifty-fifty. Anything we host in the suburbs, we split fifty-fifty too.” The Queen radiated a smile from her eyes. “And to make it fun, we add a high-stakes gamble to the mix to show our good will.”

Liam shifted in his chair, casting a nervous glance at Red, who remained perfectly still.

“I like gambles.” Red cast a hungry ogle down on the tops of The Queen's titties. “Tell me more.”

The Queen said, “In the past, Babylon has banned Moreno Enterprises from participating in The Games.”

Red's lips tightened as he began grabbed his ponytail and began sliding his hand on it. “This year,” The Queen said, “to celebrate this historical collaboration, we invite you to participate in The Games. As you know, there's a million dollar prize for each team that can perform in each event with the best style, endurance, and technique.”

The triplets grinned all at once.

“We bring our own security,” Liam said nervously with that same whack accent. “We don't go into that territory—”

Red cut his hand through the air. “Winner gets the convention circuit, Detroit, New York, Miami, L.A., and Chicago. Male and female.”

The Queen cast a charming gaze at him.
Hell naw! That's mine!

But the Morenos weren't going to win The Games anyway, so it was a moot point to oppose it.

“Bet,” Knight said. “Then we make the same toss at next year's Games. Upping the ante will make for more exciting competitions.”

“And hotter sex,” Marco said, holding a martini glass so that the red liquid swirled over the edge onto his hand. He licked it slowly, staring at The Queen.

“Let's add a little more excitement to the deal,” Red said, devouring The Queen with his eyes. “The winner gets an evening alone with this Cleopatra of the Knight.” Red raised his eyebrows to underscore this scandalous question as he looked at Knight.

The Queen could feel Knight's rage so strong, she heard his thoughts echo inside her mind.

He's through,
Knight was thinking.
This muthafucka betta enjoy his last gulps of oxygen.

Knight didn't move. His face remained cool and calm. And he let out his most charming laugh, the kind that Daddy would always use when he was annoyed as hell at a client. “All men should strive for your level of confidence,” Knight said with a charming, almost chuckling tone. “However, this territory is not open for negotiation. Right now. I'll have to discuss your proposal with The Queen in private and get back with you on that.” Knight glanced at The Queen. “I'm sure you can appreciate that it takes teamwork to make the dream work,” he said, turning back to Red. “She may in fact be open to your request.”

The Queen let her lips part as she widened her eyes at Red. His waxy beige cheeks grew pink.

“I like your style,” The Queen said, smiling at that disrespectful muthafucka.

“Security,” Brian said. “We need to work out protection for us as we watch and our teams as they arrive, compete, and leave with several mill.”

Red nodded back to the enormous black man behind him. “Nikolai handles that. Our only duty at this time is to agree to this historical collaboration that will fill the coffers of both Babylon and Moreno Enterprises with even more riches. And perhaps bring with it some extraordinary opportunities for pleasure.” Red raised a shotglass full of light brown liquid.

“To the deal of the millennium,” he said. Without waiting for anyone else to raise a glass, as The Queen and Knight had not even been served, he chugged back the shot. He did not wince before he said with glistening lips, “The truce is a new beginning for all of us, my brother.”

“Bet,” Knight said.

For the next twenty minutes, they chatted about The Games, the weather, and the upcoming wedding.

 

“Excuse me,” The Queen said. “I'm going to the ladies room.”

Tiffany stood. “Me too.” She was so skinny that when she turned sideways in that white pantsuit, she almost disappeared against the wall. She had no ass; the dark red pinstripes on her pants made her backside look like a wishbone.

Pong followed as The Queen left the room. She took long strides through the restaurant, loving the way men and women froze to stare at her. She was a diva and radiated sex power that made every person in the room stare at her as she walked.

All hail The Queen
. Yeah, her ego was out there. But she was lovin' it.

“I've never met anyone like you,” Tiffany said, taking quick, tiny steps to catch up and keep The Queen's pace. “Ever.”

“What was your name again?” The Queen asked. “Red never mentioned you and your husband's names.”

“I'm Birdie; he's B-boy. And we're not really married.”

As The Queen pushed open the bathroom door, she saw in her peripheral that Brian was going into the men's bathroom. She didn't have to look to know that Pong would wait outside the women's lounge to listen for any problems and escort her back to Knight.

When she entered, another woman came in from a door at the opposite side of the restaurant.

Be careful,
Celeste said.
This bathroom isn't as secure as you thought.
She thought about letting Pong know that, but she had Smith & Wesson strapped to her waist, so she'd be fine. Even with tiny Tiffany in tow.

The Queen dashed into a stall. Lately it seemed she had to pee a lot.

“Does everybody call you The Queen?” Tiffany asked from another stall. “I mean, like what's your real name? I guess something about you seems so familiar.”

All the negative emotions that Tiffany's speech cadence was rousing inside The Queen made her pussy ache. She needed sex to pound down these thoughts and feelings. But the girl with whom Victoria Winston had shared so many secrets and pledged to be best friends for life, kept clanging against her senses.

“When my best friend died last year,” Tiffany said, “it was so tragic. You remind me of her.”

“How'd she die?” The Queen forced the words up and out like sour, slimy chunks of vomit.

“Oh, my gosh! It was so tragic, like,” Tiffany continued, “her dad, he died, and she got sent to live in the worst part of Detroit. And she, couldn't handle it. Her dad had been like, really into some shady deals that she helped him hide from the IRS. Red says Dan Winston was really a shady dude who did him wrong.”

The Queen wanted to puke. Daddy did business with Moreno? Had that gangster threatened her father when the feds closed in with their audit? Had they threatened to hurt him or his three kids? The Queen choked out the words. She had to relieve these feelings, quickly. “Did him wrong, how?”

Tiffany let out a disgusted sigh. “Oh, I'm not supposed to talk about this, but they're all dead, so it doesn't matter. Red had hired Mr. Winston to handle some of his deals. But the money got mixed up and the IRS clamped down—”

The Queen coughed. Just like other people craved a cigarette when they were stressed, and some folks smoked a joint, while others gambled, The Queen needed to calm herself by cumming. She pressed her middle finger to her clit. Yeah, the ultimate mind mellower. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned softly.

“You okay?” Tiffany chirped while hitting the toilet paper dispenser and unrolling it.

“Mmmmm-hhmmmm.”“Well,” Tiffany said, “it all worked out because I remember my friend said her dad had her shred some papers. The feds never found anything on Moreno, but he was highly pissed.”

The Queen's fingers danced over her clit with lightning speed. Her mind swirled with thoughts of Knight's giant dick slamming up into her slippery hole and banging, banging, banging until The Queen couldn't think straight or walk across the room or even say her name. Yeah, right now she needed love to smash away this pain. And shut Tiffany the fuck up.

“So my friend, she was so sweet, but she killed herself. They found the body of a girl who fit her description inside her dad's mansion, like, a few weeks after the funeral.”

The Queen gasped. She shoved the fingers on her other hand up into her pussy, fucking herself so that she wouldn't have to let those words register.

This was the first she'd heard of that. A year ago, she had followed news reports about herself and the feds' movement on her case. But after a while, as she immersed deeper into the Babylon world, she stopped paying attention to media lies about Victoria Winston.

Truth was, that girl was in fact, dead. And reincarnated as The Queen. But whose body had they found in the Winston's abandoned mansion? Could it have been her sister Melanie? After all, The Queen had not seen her since the funeral, when Melanie had vowed to enter a convent.

“It was weird,” Tiffany said over the rustle of clothes that must have been her pulling her pants up. “They showed the girl's picture on the news and said it was Vikki. But I woulda bet money that it was her sister Melanie, 'cause Vikki had eyes like yours but Melanie had brown eyes, and the girl on the news had brown eyes.”

The Queen stabbed her fingers inside the creamy heat between her legs to numb her pain. She wished she had four hands so that she could work her pussy and cover her ears all at once. So she wouldn't have to hear Tiffany's mile-a-minute chatter that was jackin' her cool.

“Plus the news said she hung herself from the banister, but I heard it was blunt force trauma to the head.” Tiffany let out a nervous laugh. “I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess 'cause I don't have anybody else to talk to about it.”

Who would kill Melanie to trick the world into thinking Victoria were dead?

The Queen let her fingertips circle her clit, 'round and 'round, to still the horrific hurricane in her mind.

But Celeste spoke loud and clear,
Duke had them find a female body in the mansion so they'd stop tracking you. And he must have done it before Knight had rolled back into town.

The outrage of Duke killing her sister, and anguish of knowing that her sister was dead, made her ache from head to toe.

So The Queen tickled her swollen pussy with expert precision on that fire spot at the tip of her clit. That was the most sensitive place of all. And it protected her from having either, the energy, the ability, or the desire to think about the fact that Duke had committed murder to protect her new position in Babylon.

“I don't know why they keep saying on the news that they're still looking for Victoria when we know she's dead.” Tiffany flushed. She unclinked the stall lock. Her heels tapped across the tiles, then the water hissed in the sink.

“What makes it, even more sad, is that Vikki had tricked so many people. We thought she was white, but she was tricking us. She was actually black, and her mom had died in this sex scandal. So me and my family, well it wasn't, like, the black part bothered us. I mean I have a lot of black friends, but the fact that she lied.”

A low moan escaped The Queen's trembling lips.

“Victoria pissed us all off by not fessin' up to the fact that she was black,” Tiffany said. “I mean, you're beautiful and you're black. But you're not trying to hide it.”

The Queen moaned again.

“You okay in there?”

The Queen raised one foot onto the closed toilet seat so she could open her legs wider. With the thong pulled to one side, and her gun perfectly poised, the waistband of her red leather skirt, she leaned against the stall wall and stuck her left fingers even deeper up her pussy. All the while, her right fingertips danced over Celeste with expert precision and speed.

“Hello?” Tiffany called again.

“I'm fine, sweetheart,” she said as the little fireball between her legs radiated up her abdomen, down her trembling legs and arms.

“See ya back there,” Tiffany said as she walked out of the bathroom.

The Queen's pussy walls pulsated around her wet fingers. Her clit convulsed under her fingertips. And the starburst exploded. She lay back her head, panted quietly, and let her body's opium mellow her mind. She heard the door close behind Tiffany. The silent stillness of the bathroom was just what she needed before heading back into the bad vibes of those three gangsters.

All the junk that Tiffany had just spewed had vaporized under the sizzlin' sex power of The Queen's mind and body. So, after wiping the hot cream from between her legs and putting her thong back in place, she stepped out of the stall.

Brian was standing against the shimmery blue wall facing her. “Vee, I thought you were dead,” he groaned, rubbing his open palm over the crotch of his pants. “I'm still yours forever. You've never looked better.”

The Queen raised her chin and strutted to the sink. “It's The Queen,” she said calmly, watching him in the mirror. “And unless you're trying to get kronked beyond recognition, you betta show some respect and get the fuck out.”

She could hear Knight reciting one of the rules of The Prince Code,
Kill or be killed.

Brian stepped close behind her. In the mirror, his eyes glowed with lust from his puffy face. “Congratulations on your music,” he said. “Who knew my little lilly white, prep school prude with the coffee-house rhymes would rock her way up the charts with some freakin' black girl beats?”