Stealing Candy (34 page)

Small personal donations poured in via the HelpfindPortia website. The community pitched in with numerous fund-raising events. And through Khalil’s professional contacts, local businesses had contributed larger sums of money.

All total, fifteen thousand dollars had been raised as a reward for Portia’s safe return.

Groups of people had organized and helped post fliers throughout every section of Philadelphia.

Manning the tip line, Saleema was swamped with lots of crank calls. There were a dozen or so from concerned citizens who sincerely believed they’d seen someone they thought fit Portia’s description. But nothing had panned out so far.

Using his laptop, Khalil was seated in Saleema’s kitchen, updating the website.

Saleema went to the computer center that was on the second floor. “That’s it, girls. You’re an hour past your allotted computer time. It’s time to wrap it up.”

“Aw, I need ten more minutes. I’m applying for a job. CVS is hiring!” Amirah said.

“She’s lying,” Stacey said, laughing. “Amirah can’t even get her working papers yet.”

Saleema peeked over Amirah’s shoulder and couldn’t help laughing when she discovered that Amirah was actually playing an online cake-baking game.

Saleema shook her head. “In my day, we played with Easy Bake ovens.”

“You can do it quicker online,” Amirah boasted.

“Okay, seriously. It’s time for you young ladies to go home.”

“Is the professor keeping you company tonight?” Chyna inquired, lifting a brow. All the girls had started calling Khalil “Professor.”

“He’s updating the website,” Saleema said firmly, refusing to even joke around about her personal affairs. “Log off, girls.”

Murmuring their disappointment, each girl gathered her belongings and filed down the stairs. Before they left, they made it a point to prance to the kitchen to tell Khalil goodnight.

“Amirah is still such a little girl. I love that about her,” Saleema told Khalil. “While the other girls were flirting and playing around on MySpace, Amirah was playing some kind of cake-baking game. Isn’t that cute?” Saleema moved closer to Khalil’s screen to see if there were any interesting tidbits or any Portia sightings in the chat room.

“They’re talking about a girl from Wilkes-Barre who went missing around the same time as Portia. She’s seventeen and has a five-month-old baby.”

“Oh, God. Is the baby missing, too?”

“Yeah. She brought her baby to Philly, intending to leave the child with its father for a few weeks. But they never made it. Her car hasn’t been found, either. It’s like she fell off the earth.”

Saleema shook her head, perusing the chat, hoping to find some mention of Portia.

Khalil looked over at Saleema. “You look tired.”

“I am, but I want to read all the updates before I go to bed.”

Khalil pushed back his chair and stood, moved behind Saleema and gripped her shoulders, his strong hand kneading her tired muscles. “Relax.”

His hands felt so good, she closed her eyes and did just that.

Then she tensed. Every part of her body was acutely aware of how close he was to her.

“Relax.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

He stopped massaging. Standing behind her, he softly kissed the back of her neck.

She shivered.

His arms closed around her, his hands cupping her breasts, as he traced delicate circles around her nipples with his thumb.

“Relax,” he whispered again, and then nibbled on the side of her neck.

Feeling limp, her head lulled back, resting against Khalil’s chest, while his mouth teased the flesh on her neck, and his thumbs worked magic, turning her nipples into hard stones.

His lips; his thumbs were making her ache. “You know I want you,” he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. “But I don’t want to rush you. If you want me to stop, tell me. You know I will.”

His husky, sensual voice, his coaxing lips, his masculine scent, all rendered her speechless, had her melting in his arms.

Incapable of speech, she swiveled around. In a series of motions, she removed his glasses, set them on the table, and cradled his handsome face.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she admitted, looking into his eyes.

He grasped her buttocks, massaging the firm mounds while his warm lips pressed against hers. His sensual tongue, exploring adventurously, sending chills up her spine while a fire raged inside.

The heat from her groin burned into his. “Khalil,” she moaned.

He lifted her dress and gazed at the V-shape in her thong. His
hands slid over her slim hips, palms gliding up and down her smooth mahogany flesh.

“I want you now,” Saleema gasped.

“How do you want it?”

“Huh?” she said, breathless. She was dripping with desire. This was not the time to play games.

He ran a caressing finger down her cheek. “If you need me to be gentle, I can do that.”

“Oh, my God,” she rasped. Khalil was way too sexy. “I just…” her voice trailed off.

“You just what?” He stroked the V between her legs until the soft cotton became damp. “You want me to take away that tension?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“How? Do you want me to slide it in gently?”

Flashes of pleasure shot through her body. His words were making her crazy.

“Um. I’m not sure.”

“Turn around.”

She turned around, and gripped the edge of the table as he slipped her dress over her head. Standing in her kitchen wearing only a thong and a bra, her dress was in a lump on the floor. This was the stress release her body had been longing for.

The sound of his zipper going down echoed inside the kitchen. With her back to him, her buttocks bared, Saleema lowered her head until it was pressed against the table. She shuddered in anticipation.

The next sensation was his lips kissing a tender trail down her back, making her jerk and whimper.

“Too gentle?”

“I’m not sure.” She spoke through panting breaths.

He delved his long middle finger into her moistness, stroked her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Her inner walls tightened around the thickness of his finger. Her moans were deep and anguished as her body writhed against his touch.

“You like it like this? You wanna cum on my finger?”

“It’s been so long, Khalil. Don’t make me tell you what I want, because I don’t know,” she said pleadingly.

“I know what I want,” he said in a low sensual voice. “Spread your legs for me.”

Bent over the kitchen table and uncertain of exactly what Khalil planned to do, Saleema slowly and cautiously widened her stance.

He lowered his body, scooted under the table, grabbed the ledge for support, and licked open her folds until his tongue was saturated with her womanly flavor.

Saleema felt as if her body was vibrating against his tongue. Hunched over the table, she allowed him to weaken her with every thrust of his sturdy tongue.

Unable to bear another second, Saleema’s legs buckled, and then gave out completely. In an instant, she was in a heap on the floor.

Khalil inched forward, no longer positioned beneath the table.

Saleema crawled to him. Pushing him down, she mounted him, now knowing what she needed.

Soothing her blazing hot spot, she positioned his rigid length between her legs. She eased down slowly, taking him in inch by inch. When she felt their groins touch, she lost control, and rode him like a stallion…rough and hard.

 
 CHAPTER 41

Gianna sat up front in the passenger seat with Bullet, while Flashy was squeezed miserably between Skittles and Bubbles in the back seat of the Cadillac. Announcing his irritation, Flashy rolled his eyes and popped gum loudly. “I would have driven my own car if I knew you were going to stick me in the back with these two heifers.”

Unhealed welts on Bubbles’ rear end prevented her from sitting in a normal position. To relieve the discomfort, she sat tilted, with her big bosoms smashed against Flashy’s shoulder and neck.

Twisting away from her, Flashy snarled, “Move over, heifer. You’re suffocating me. Bullet! I want to sit up front. I swear I’m suffocating back here. I can’t breathe with this big heifer’s titties flopping around in my face.”

Gianna heard Bubbles, who sat directly behind her, mumble something derogatory in response to being called a heifer.

Irritably, Bullet glanced over his shoulder. “Yo, Flashy, stop bitching all the time. You getting paid to do a job, not ride my damn jock.”

“I’m not tryna ride nothing; I gotta man!” Flashy retorted.

“That’s whassup. Glad to hear it.”

“But I’m worried about my reputation.”

“What about it?”

“I worked hard all week putting together their special costumes and you got them dressed like two-dollar whores.”

“You not running shit. How many times I tell you that?”

“We’re partners and I should have some say-so over the wardrobe.”

“I notice you take the money for them costumes out of my cut! I ain’t feeling that. I don’t want them wearing all that makeup and crazy costumes. You got them looking like they trannies.”

“That’s a lie! They look classy in the outfits I choose for them. Why do you want them looking like skanky hoes?”

“Cuz that’s what they is, man. They hoes! All they gotta do is show some nekkid ass and the tricks will spend their dough. Fuck all that extra bullshit.”

“So let me get this right…I don’t have any say-so about these hoes?”

“Nah.”

“So why am I in this car with y’all?”

“You ain’t gotta be. Want me to pull over and let yo’ ass out?” Bullet hit the brakes, screeching to a stop. “What’s it gon’ be, man? I can work the auction my damn self.”

“Puh-leeze. You don’t have any finesse whatsoever. But since you don’t need me, why don’t you start finding your own auction spots?”

“That’s what I pay you to do. But the girls ain’t to be tampered with. I don’t want them rockin’ no more faggot-ass, transvestite gear.”

Flashy
tsked
and batted his glued-on butterfly lashes angrily. “Have you noticed how much paper we pull in when I’m in charge of selecting the wardrobe?”

“If I leave it up to you, you’ll have them prancing around in angel wings and whatnot. That’s bullshit. I want my hoes to look like hoes; not like they ’bout to recite lines from a fairytale.”

Bullet glanced at Gianna. “Ain’t that right, baby?”

“You right, Daddy. Flashy was wasting your money on those stupid outfits. We stay looking hot when we wear the clothes you buy us.”

“Baby!” Flashy shouted in disbelief. “My ears must be deceiving me. Don’t tell me you slippin’, Bullet? Are you going soft, muthafucka?”

“Lollipop belongs to me. I’m the only family she got. She belongs to me…body, mind, and soul. I can call her whatever I fuckin’ feel like calling her. But you don’t know nothing about feelings that run that strong.”

“Hmph. Not too long ago, your feelings were so strong, you jacked-up her finger.”

Bubbles burst out in titters of laugher.

Bullet narrowed an eye at Bubbles as he hit the gas pedal. “You just earned another ass-whooping, Bubblicious. You gon’ be leaning on the other side of your hind parts this time tomorrow.”

“I ain’t mean to laugh. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You outta pocket, bitch. Your sloppy ass thinks everything is a joke. I’ma show you how serious I am about my business. You crazy if you think I’ma let you mess up the game.”

“I ain’t do nothing. I only laughed a little bit. I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t laugh no more.”

“Too late. You already did.”

Gianna smiled at Bullet, co-signing his decision to give Bubbles more lashes of leather across her ass.

“You’re a fool, Bullet!” Flashy exclaimed. “Bubbles’ rear-end is already torn to shreds. How you gon’ work her if you keep tearing up her ass?”

“She gon’ have to fuck standing up.” Bullet stroked Gianna’s hair as he drove.

Flashy sighed in disgust. “As soon as this auction is over, pay
me my money so I can be the fuck out. You are turning my stomach, Bullet.”

“Whatever, man.”

Surreptitiously, Flashy gave him the finger. Bubbles chuckled softly, carefully muffling the sound with her palm clamped over her mouth.

“Scoot over, Lollipop. Why you sitting so far away from me?”

In an instant, Gianna was straddling the gear shift console, cuddled next to Bullet, and resting her head against his muscular arm.

She felt so special. So loved. Though she was wearing stilettos, a pair of booty shorts, and a push-up bra, Gianna felt like a princess.

And her daddy, Bullet, was the king of her world.