Street Divas (28 page)

A
ll is well.

Ever since Profit opened his eyes, Mason is back to being the leader our people love and respect. As a result, the Vice Lords have ramped up the war on the streets and are moving niggas off GD blocks that they had long held down on the south side. Thanks to Bishop tracking Python's ass for the past three weeks, we know where this nigga does his business, who all his lieutenants are and where they live, and even some of Python's resting places around town. Nigga got so many damn baby mommas, it makes my head spin.

Tonight we're going to take it to these niggas hard. Go at them with everything we got and rip the heart out of the GD's stronghold by taking out Python and all his lieutenants on the same night. Mason wants to play with his food for as long as he can by choking off their life blood: the money and their connect. Once that's done, he wants to watch these niggas eat their own.

We still got a couple of hours before the sun goes down and Cousin Skeet rolls through with some new firepower.

Right now, I'm chilling my ass in the tub trying to relax and get my mind right. Now that everything is everything, and we're going to settle all this beef tonight, I keep asking myself, what's next?

How long am I going to be Mason's ride-or-die chick? Is being his right-hand bitch enough for me, or is it time for me to seriously get back down to earth and find something else to do while I'm still able to draw breath and ain't serving no bid nowhere?

Yet, at the same time, I don't want to leave his ass. I can't leave his ass.

Shaking my head, I lean all the way back in the tub and watch as the few remaining bubbles in the water circle around my full titties.
Should I stay or should I go?
My thoughts circle around that question until there's a loud bang on my bathroom door.

“Damn, girl. How long are you going to be in there?” Mason barks.

What the fuck is his ass doing over here?
“What the hell do you want?”

“I told you that I wanted to go over this shit one more time before our people roll out tonight. I don't want shit to go wrong.”

I roll my eyes. “I'll be out in a minute,” I say, and don't even bother to get up.

This muthafucka must have had his ear up to the door because he barges his ass right on in.

“What the fuck?”

Mason looks down at me in the tub, and his eyes instantly land on my bubble-capped titties. “Fuck. Nice rack.”

I'm not a shy bitch at all, but my neck and face grow warm beneath his intense stare. “Why don't you take a muthafuckin' picture? It'll last longer.”

Grinning, Mason scoops out his cell phone and does exactly that.

“Nigga, is you crazy?” I push myself up and stand. Water and bubbles cascade down my curves. “Hand me my towel,” I tell him.

Mason doesn't move.

My annoyance chills a bit at noticing his reaction to my naked body. After a few seconds, I settle my hand on my hips and strike a pose. “Are you through?”

A smile curves up the side of Mason's face. “Damn, girl. Just . . . damn.”

I step out of the tub and walk over to him. When I'm inches away, I reach and brush my left wet titty against his arm and grab my towel. “Thanks for nothing.”

“No. Thank
you.
” His mismatched eyes roam over me while his face softens.

The thing is, I'm willing to let whatever is flowing between us happen, because despite having the towel in hand, I don't attempt to dry off or cover up. After another couple of seconds pass, Mason reaches up and removes my elastic twisty and lets my hair fall down around my shoulders.

Still neither of us says anything while he combs his thick, meaty fingers through my hair. One thing's for sure—the air in my chest gets thinner and the butterflies in my stomach flutter around like they're on crack.

When his gaze finishes mapping out every inch of my body, our eyes lock.

“You're fuckin' beautiful. Do you know that?”

I reach up and touch the side of his face, brushing my fingers against the small scar beneath his milky eye, and say with all honesty, “So are you.”

Together, we lean forward until our mouths connect. Instantly this warm feeling seeps into my soul, and it heats up into a fire and then sweeps through my body. My towel falls to the floor while I wrap my hands around his thick neck. I press my wet body against his hard frame, and before I know it, there's more than water making me wet. He gets no protests from me when two of his fingers slide down both sides of my throbbing clit. In fact, all I can do is quiver. No shit. I've been starving for his touch for so long that the second his slippery fingers brush over the top of my clit, I come unglued.

“Ooooh, Mason,” I moan, dragging my lips from his and then tilting my head all the way back.

With my neck exposed, Mason peppers kisses all up and down the column. I've never pegged myself as the romantic type, but I swear my head is blown while his hands and mouth cast a spell on me.

“God,” Mason whispers as his mouth drifts toward my left earlobe. “Why didn't we do this shit a long time ago?”

“You tell me,” I answer, tugging on his baggy jeans and working them off his hips.

He sucks in a ragged breath while his mouth dives down and captures one of my rock-hard nipples in his mouth. Mason doesn't just suck on them; he does this nice, gentle biting and chewing that drives my ass wild. By the time my hand wraps around his thick cock, I'm convinced that I know what it's like to be a crack addict. I need this man inside of me now in the worst way, and I don't think I'm above selling my soul to make it happen.

Mason turns me so that I'm backed up against my bathroom sink. In the next second, he spreads my legs open and kneels down before me. Before I can take advantage of the fresh oxygen, Mason's thick tongue slaps against my clit.

“Fuck.” My hands grip the sink while I reflexively prop my legs up around Mason's head. Now, I've had my share of head jobs, but the tornado action this nigga touches down on my shit has me feeling like Dorothy spinning her ass all the way to the land of Oz.

“Shit. Shit.” I need him to slow down so I can catch my breath, but I can't get myself to pull my hands away from the sink for fear that my ass will fall down and embarrass myself. Yet, at the same time, if I don't do something about his unmerciful tongue slapping my clit around, I'm really going to embarrass myself by screaming like a banshee.

“Awwwwwwwww.” I take a chance and rip my hands away from the sink to lock them around his head so I can try to push him back , but that sexy head of his refuses to budge, and I'm hit with one orgasm after another. “Awwww.”

By the time Mason ends his assault on my pussy, I'm as limp as a wet noodle and his mouth is glossy like he's finished a whole bucket of fried chicken on his own.

“How you like yo boy now, baby?” Mason stands up, cock in hand while I try to catch my breath. “Hmmmm? You ain't had no shit like that before, have you?”

“You a'ight,” I pant with a crooked smile. I ain't about to let this nigga's head get any bigger than it is right now. He can forget that shit.

“A'ight?” He laughs and then locks an arm around my waist. He lifts me up and then slowly slides me down on his cock like we've been doing this shit for years. His shit is so fat that it literally takes my breath away. After watching my mouth drop open and my eyes damn near roll out the back of my head, Mason is back to feeling cocky. “How you like me now, Willow? Hmm? Still think that I'm just a'ight?”

For the first time, I love the way he says my name. I don't feel like the bad chick who needs to be in control or dominated. I feel like . . . a fucking girl. But I do have something up my sleeve for his ass. After a few wonderful strokes, I take full command of my vaginal muscles and lock my shit up.

Mason gasps. His mouth drops into a perfect circle while he squeezes his eyes tight. “FUUUUUCK.”

“How you like
me
now?” I use his shoulders for an anchor and then bounce my ass up and down and even throw in a few circles as well. This muthafucka's knees buckle, and he nearly drops my ass. “What's wrong, nigga? Pussy got your tongue?”

“Damn, Willow. Damn.”

We tumble to the floor, but that shit doesn't stop our flow.

With my knees planted on both sides of his hips, I lean forward and smother his face with my titties while simultaneously churning his precum into a thick, creamy concoction. My ride on top doesn't last long.

Soon I'm facedown against the linoleum, and Mason is stuffing me from behind. He hammers his hips with the same velocity as he can twirl his tongue. I had no idea that his dick game was this fucking tight. If I had, I might've raped his ass a long time ago. By the time my nut explodes and tries to drown his one eyed-monster, I know for sure that my ass is good and sprung.

I say something about taking this shit to the bed, and the next thing I know, my legs are wrapped around this nigga's waist while he crawls on all fours into the adjoining bedroom.

In bed, our shit gets slow and tender. It's as if we just needed to get those first couple of nuts out of the way. The softer touches and kisses take our minds to a deeper level. We explore each other's bodies like we have all the time in the world. I learn that he doesn't like his nipples sucked, and he learns that there's not a damn thing I don't like. But I do love kissing him on his neck, right against his adorable horseshoe-shaped birthmark. I can tell he loves it, too, by the way his moans deepen. We eventually pass out—but not for long.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

My bedroom door vibrates.

“Lucifer,” Bishop shouts through the door. “Have you seen Mason?”

Mason and I pop up and then glance at each other.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Boy, if you don't stop pounding on my door!”

“Well, have you seen him?”

I stare at Mason for a hint as to what he'd like me to say, but his face is as blank as mine. When I open my mouth, Mason cuts me off. “I'm in here, man.”

That apparently gives Bishop permission to waltz into my room, but he gets more than an eyeful when he sees me and Mason, naked and tangled up in my funky sheet.

“What you need, my nigga?” Mason asks, pulling me an extra inch closer.

Bishop stands there openmouthed for a few seconds. A smile curls up at the corners of his mouth. “It's about fuckin' time.” He rolls his eyes and starts backing out of the room. “Y'all two hurry the fuck up. Cousin Skeet is on his way over.”

Mason and I relax against each other as we bob our heads.

“A'ight. We'll be out in a few,” Mason says.

“Mason and Willow kissing in a tree,” Bishop sings. “K-I-S-S—”

“Nigga, get out of here!” I throw a pillow and smack him dead in the mouth.

Bishop laughs and then slams the door.

Mason and I look at each other again and grin.

“I guess he approves,” Mason says. “This evening is full of surprises.”

I laugh but make no move to climb out of the bed.

He doesn't either. “We finally fuckin' did it.”

“Yeah, we did.”

Mason bobs his head some more and then clears his throat. “And how does it feel?”

“You still fishing for a compliment?”

“No . . . well, yeah, but that shit can come later. What I want to know is how you feel about this shit?”

“Oh. We're about to have ‘the talk'?” I laugh to try to hide my nervousness.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “I want to know how you feel about this shit. Am I just something to do, or are we going to try and make something happen here?”

“I don't know . . . I mean—”

“What? You ain't got feelings for a nigga?”

“Of course I do. But . . .”

“But?”

“But you did just get out of a . . . situation. And I ain't interested in being a rebound bitch. You feel me?”

“I feel you,” he says, leaning forward. “
But
this shit didn't just crop up overnight. I've had feelings for you for a long damn time.”

My eyes narrow suspiciously. “You have?”

“Yeah,” he answers without hesitation.

“Uh-huh. Whatever happened to ‘one bitch is just as good as the next'?”

Mason shakes his head. “C'mon. I was just blowing off steam that night.”

I'm going to let him have that. “So why didn't we—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“He's here,” Bishop shouts.

We sigh in annoyance.

“We'll continue this conversation a little later,” Mason promises.

“A'ight.”

He leans forward again and kisses me deeply. No shit, I wish that we could lie in this bed forever. We have business to tend to, so we pop out of the bed and rush for a quick shower.

Strolling outside so we can head over to his place a few doors down, we don't quite know what to do with our hands or even know how to behave.

“This shit is going to take some getting used to,” Mason says.

“You ain't never lied,” I joke.

“There you two are!” a voice booms as we approach Mason's driveway.

My stomach clenches, but this time in disgust. I hate it when we have to do business with this muthafucka.

Mason allows Captain Melvin Johnson to throw his arms around him while I stand back. When the pig shifts his gaze to me, his smile twists slyly.

“Hello, Willow.” He throws open his arms. “Where is the love for your old cousin Skeet?”

T
icktock.

I'm paranoid like a muthafucka and peeping around every nook and corner like a crazy bitch now. I thought I was ready for this fight to knock Python's wifey off her throne, but it turns out that I've highly underestimated LeShelle. She has made it clear that she isn't afraid to toe-tag any bitch who gets in her way, and my stupid ass couldn't leave well enough alone. Now what am I supposed to do, walk around with a gat strapped around my big belly everywhere I go? Would she really come at me though I'm still under her man's protection?

Why not? I went at her.

My cell phone buzzes, and when I look down at the screen, I see: Ticktock.

Oh, this bitch is fucking with me now.

Should I call Python and tell him what's going down, or will that have me looking like a whiny bitch who can't handle my own problems?

Better a whiny bitch than a dead one.

You'd think LeShelle would have better things to do now that her sister is in a mental hospital, drooling and staring at a fucking wall. If the shit that's buzzing on the street is to be believed, that bitch is foul for orchestrating her own lil sister's sex-in into the Queen Gs. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised. It's clear that the bitch will do anything to stay on top. What the hell was I thinking putting myself in her crosshairs?

Ticktock.

I feel like a beach ball as I walk up and down the grocery store aisles, looking for something to satisfy all my sweet and sour cravings. And what I end up lugging out of the store is enough junk food to send my ass into a diabetic shock. As I step out into the dark parking lot, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Someone is watching me.

My nervous gaze darts around, but I don't see anyone lurking in the shadows. I remain paranoid as I head over to my car. I need to stop making these late-night trips. This city isn't safe when the sun goes down. I climb into my SUV and lock the door. I feel a little safer knowing that I have my new gat tucked under the driver's seat. There's a loud
bing
from my purse. Before pulling out of the parking lot, I scoop out my cell phone and check the text message.

Ticktock.

“This fuckin' bitch is getting on my nerves.” I toss my cell phone aside and shift the car into gear. But I'm not on the road for more than two minutes before that feeling comes back over me. Now there's a strange anxiousness, and my blood seems to be speeding through my veins, leaving me light-headed. My gaze shoots to my rearview mirror and then to the side mirrors. There are a few cars on the road, but I'm suddenly suspicious of all of them.

“Calm down. This bitch got you tripping.” I readjust my sweating hands on the steering wheel and concentrate on hurrying up and getting home. However, no sooner do I shove my paranoia to the back of my head than the black SUV behind me speeds up and rear-ends me.

I jolt forward; my belly rams against the steering wheel. “What the hell?” I look into the rearview when the muthafucka hits me again. “Fuck!” Instead of pulling over, I jam on the accelerator. I almost shit myself when someone springs up from my backseat and presses a gun to my head.

“Ticktock, bitch.”

Shocked and scared shitless, I shoot my gaze to the rearview mirror. A pair of dark, sinister eyes glares back at me from beneath a black wool ski mask.

“Pull this muthafucka over,” the woman hisses.

Blinking, I don't react. I was expecting it to be LeShelle, but it isn't. “Who are you?”

“I'll splatter your brains all over the fuckin' dashboard if you don't pull this muthafucka over right now!”

I don't doubt her ass for a minute. I ease my foot off the gas and pull the vehicle over. Two things I
don't
do is beg and cry. Once I'm on the side of the road, the other SUV pulls up behind me.

“Look, I don't know what you want, but if you let me go, you can take my purse, my car . . . whatever.”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

My door flies open, and the next thing I know I'm being shoved over into the passenger seat. “Ow. My baby. I'm pregnant!”

“No shit,” the woman in the backseat says a second before wrapping duct tape around my mouth. After that, she shoves some kind of cloth over my head and presses a gun against the back of my head again. The bitch next to me binds my hands with plastic cuffs that bite into my skin, as someone climbs behind the wheel. By the time we peel off from the side of the road, I can no longer hold back my tears.

They just want to scare me.
No way would LeShelle enlist these girls to actually hurt me, especially while I'm still carrying Python's child. That would be too crazy even for her. I rethink that shit after we drive for a long time. These two bitches haven't said another word. A few more minutes pass, and we turn off the main road and onto a rocky path.

A few more minutes tick by and my full bladder bursts. I sit in a puddle of piss while tears stream down my face. The car stops. My two kidnappers jump out and then open my door. I tumble and fall onto sharp rocks. Pain explodes through my body, but I'm unable to scream or push myself up. Are they planning to leave me out here like this—in the middle of nowhere?

I hear tires crunch over the gravel. It must be the other SUV. I'm full-on crying as two women pull and tug me onto my knees.

“What the fuck?” A car door slams and a third woman's voice shouts, “Have y'all done her yet?”

Oh, shit!
My mind races as I struggle to get to my feet, but I'm shoved back down. I scream, “Please don't do this,” behind my taped mouth to no avail.

“I ain't knocking off a pregnant woman,” one says. “That shit is foul. The baby ain't done shit to nobody.”

“Count me out, too,” another voice says. “Shit. I didn't know this bitch was this far along. I don't understand why we're doing the Queen Gs' dirty work anyway.”

Relief sweeps through me but then is snatched away when the third woman says, “I owe that bitch LeShelle a favor for getting rid of Essence, and I pay all my debts. So we're going to do this, but we're going to take some insurance.”

“What type of insurance?”

“We'll cut the baby out and take it with us.”

My eyes bulge beneath the bag, and I double up on my efforts to get away, but I'm completely and utterly defenseless.

“Hold this bitch down!”

No! No! No!

Cold steel is stabbed into my flesh. My scream breaks through the duct tape, but I drown in a sea of pain as this bitch's blade carves around my belly. Before I slip into nothingness, I hear my baby's cry.