Sex in the Hood Saga (17 page)

Her skin was soaked, sweaty, and prickly from how horny she felt. Her mind was like melted butter, dripping through the rest of her, making a puddle in her panties. She was trembling. Her mind was spinning. She wanted to run far away from this temptation, but at the same time she wanted Duke to ram his dick deep inside her hot, slippery pussy. What would it be like if she were naked, grinding on Duke's dick right now?

“I can't,” she whispered. “I can't.”

No, she didn't want to end up like her mother, killing someone, or herself with her mix-breed woman power that came out in sex.

No!
She wanted to scream.

“Don't ever let them see you sweat,” she remembered hearing Daddy say so many times about the backstabbing cheerleaders who teased her when she had trouble doing a double flip; about the chemistry teacher who told her girls never got A's in his class (she did anyway); and about the blood-thirsty reporters who hounded her and her siblings at their school during the scandal just before he killed himself.

Now, Victoria wanted to cry, run, scream, and fuck all at once.

She couldn't let Duke win. He planned this whole situation, to get her in here, horny out of her mind, so he could talk her into working for him. For now, since she had nowhere else to go, she would let Duke think he was winning. But she would always be beating him at his own game.

“Market this.” She turned, looked up at him and whispered with a cool expression, as if she were seeing this every day. “Call it Sexercise, and you'll be an instant millionaire. All you need is a video camera and a Web site.”

Duke stared down hard at her. “We don't give away our secrets. Not for any price.”

The power of his eyes pulled those satin strings on the velvet drawstring purse between her legs. His scent made her dizzy. She turned to face him all the way. His beautiful face made her want to never look away.

That huge rod poking into her stomach made her pussy convulse. She squeezed her pelvic muscles as he pulled her close.

Her nipples pressed into him. His lips brushed against her trembling mouth and Victoria shivered.

Duke knew she was ready to let him pop that juicy cherry.

He picked her up like he did his kids when they would fall asleep in the car and he had to carry them up to their mothers' apartments here at Babylon. With Duchess, he was so smooth, he picked her up without unlocking their lips.

Damn, ain't no kiss neva felt like this.
Even the air around them was on fire, just like his skin, his dick, his heart, his head. He had his right arm under her knees, his left arm under her back, and she was kissing him while he walked past the sexercise to the elevator.

Ain't no secret. She gon' be e'rybody Duchess in a minute. They gon' bow to her jus' like they bow to The Duke, so might as well come out wit' it now. An' fuck Milan if she get a attitude. Ain't nothin' she can do about it from her apartrnent.

Duke pulled Beamer a few feet back, so nobody would hear him say, “Yo, B, I ain't available fo' nobody. Anything happen, han'le it.”

“I'm on it, Massa Duke.”

“I know 'bout e'rythang you be on.” Duke stared down hard into Beamer's big eyes, which popped like Buckwheat on them old-fashioned black and white re-runs of
The Little Rascals
he loved watching.

“But I ain't mad,” Duke said. “Can't no normal man keep his dick to hisself when Milan lay on her evil ways. 'Specially yo' stupid ass. An' I don' give a fuck who she screwin', long as they ain't 'round my babies.”

Beamer quaked.

“So, B.”

“Yes, Massa Duke.” His voice was all wavery and high pitched like a girl. “You still ma boy.”

Beamer nodded.

“If you wonderin' why I ain't gon' jus' pop yo' dumb ass, let me explain. It's Dominology 101. You gon' kiss ma ass even mo' fierce now, 'cause you know, one wrong move an' you”—Duke raised the last word to a higher octave—“th'ough.” He tossed his head back, laughing, stepping toward Duchess.

In the elevator, she sucked on his neck again, like she did in the car. No girl had ever kissed him like that, making the little muscles under his skin ripple and send sex shocks through his body. Whatever nonsense she was mumbling about in the car, about a sex curse, that was the craziest shit he had ever heard. The only curse she was going to have was liking it so much she would want it twenty-four/seven. She would be tempted not to get anything done because she would always want to be fucking.

He still had to keep an eye on her, though. Yeah, she agreed to work for him, to stay here, but she didn't have a choice. Those pretty eyes were glowing with scheme, but whatever kind of break-out plan she was thinking, it wouldn't work. Couldn't trick The Duke. Beamer, Milan, and his other baby mommas had already tried, along with half the niggas trying to make something happen in Detroit and beyond. So, this white bitch here, his Duchess, the girl he would cherish and protect forever, wouldn't succeed at whatever she tried.

The elevator rose to the tenth floor, opening onto the sharp-ass black marble hallway of his penthouse. It was all black marble, top, sides, and bottom, with custom lights that glowed cobalt blue from behind silver BABYLON sconces, three on each side, leading toward the all-cream living room.

Duke carried Duchess through the foyer, past the couches, fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened onto his terrace overlooking the city's skyline and river. Walking with her in his arms was easy. She felt light, like part of his own body.

He heard something that made him freeze. It was their song, “Duchess' Theme Song,” which the Bang Squad had written, composed and produced for this night right here. Now it was pumping through his top of the line stereo system that played in every room of the penthouse.

“Listen, baby girl.” Damn, looking down in those eyes made his heart stop a minute. She glanced up as if it helped her hear better. The tune was as soft as she was, with piano and a soft rumble of drums, just enough bass to make it sound masculine.

Jamal was crooning like Marvin Gaye.

“Duchess, be my girl. Help me rule the world. Duchess, be my wife. Share this dream of life.” Duke sang along, looking so deep into her teary eyes that he felt like he could dive in and swim around.

“Duchess, be my girl,” Duke sang. “Help me rule the world. Duchess, be my wife. Share this dream of life.”

She nodded slightly, never looking away from his eyes. He stepped into the bedroom, decorated like an Egyptian pharoah's palace. Custom lights were set behind tall columns along the walls, inlaid with colorful tiles in Egyptian patterns and hieroglyphics. They were already adjusted to cast a sexy peach haze through the huge room, especially on the two eight-foot-tall mummy cases on each side of the black lacquered dresser.

The face paint of the cases always gave Duke this look like they were adding their power to his purpose. He loved the black eyeliner around the round, direct eyes, the richness of the gold covered faces, the sharp contrast of the black stripes on their headdresses. The cases were arranged so they were facing the bed, focusing their power on Duke for when he finally made love with Duchess.

He stepped to the dresser, where he unclipped his phones from his belt, turned them off and set them down. They sat next to candles that were already burning, making the room smell like butterscotch. The burning logs crackled inside the white marble fireplace.

He had his Duchess in his arms, ripe and ready. She was kissing him like she wouldn't be able to breathe if she unlatched her lips.

“Baby girl,” he whispered, carrying her toward the bed. She put her hand behind his head and pulled his mouth back to hers.

He stepped up the four white marble steps to the king-sized mahogany playpen surrounded by a canopy of sheer gold panels of shimmery silk. He angled Duchess' head so she parted the curtains. He laid her on the gold silk bedspread. Her black hair fanned out around her head.

“You look like a angel,” he whispered.

Her blue flame blowtorch eyes incinerated him. Timbo flipped harder than ever. Duke was actually trembling from head to toe. He was a little scared because he didn't want to hurt her. The way he felt, it was so overwhelming, he knew he would lose his mind up in that pretty pussy. And he hadn't even seen it.

“Take your shirt off,” she whispered, lips and cheeks red as ever.

He unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to a nearby chair. Her eyes trailed all over his chest, over his shoulders, down his arms and back again. It seemed like forever before she whispered, “Undress me.”

He pulled off her gym shoes and her socks. He knelt down, sucked her pretty toes, sliding his tongue between each one. Duke ran a hand between her legs, fingers outstretched to tickle the insides of her thighs. Then with his middle finger only, he ran it straight up the stretched-tight fabric over her pussy. It was hot, wet, and meaty, like a meat flower all bunched up in there that would open up and suck him in like a big-ass stinger on a bee, dripping honey all over the place.

Duchess cried out. It was like agony and ecstasy all rolled into one sound. She was so horny it was hurting her, and it was his duty to relieve her of this suffering. She was his, and he needed to brand her with his tongue, his juice, his love. To burn their souls together into one, forever.

He put his fingertips on each side of the waistband on the pants he bought her. Touching the baby-soft skin of her hips, he pulled slowly. His fingertips, which caught her panties too, trailed down the outsides of her hips, her thighs, her knees, her calves, and her ankles. Then he just stood there, staring at her long-ass legs smooth, creamy, and toned. She had skin the color of the inside of an almond, white with a little bit of yellow-tan, on the prettiest legs he had ever seen. She raised her knees and just stared up at him from between the valley of her legs like they were framing her face from where he was standing.

Her jacket still covered the tops of her thighs. He unzipped it, peeled it off her shoulders. He lifted each hand, kissed every finger, then pulled the wristband over her hand and laid her arm gently back on the bed.

She shivered when his hands passed over her nipples through the white T-shirt. She let out a little moan. She could start a fire the way she was looking at him.

Duke peeled off her T-shirt and unhooked her bra, letting loose the most beautiful nipples and titties he'd ever seen. Full, round, plump, with cinnamon-color circles that came to a point. And they tasted as sweet and soft as they looked. Duke sucked like a baby, twirling his tongue around that nipple that he would never let go of.

Her back arched; her hands grasped the sides of his head. She pushed him up. “Look at me,” she whispered. “All of me.”

First he stared into her eyes, which made his skin feel like flames were dancing up and down him from head to toe. Her face was too pretty to believe. His eyes traveled down that elegant, swan like neck. Some of her straight black hair covered her creamy shoulder and made a fan against the gold silk under her. Her titties pointed straight at him. Her stomach was so pretty it was a sin, the way her waist curved in below her ribs. Her belly button was like a little eye, winking at him as her stomach rose and fell because she was breathing so hard already. He wanted to take a fork and eat all that smooth, creamy skin over her hips, down to the black hair at the “V” of her pussy.

“Oh . . . hell . . . yeah,” he groaned.

Her clit was big, red, and so wet it was shiny. It looked like a red rose pinned to a black mink coat. He wanted to stare at this forever, but he didn't want her to clamp up and push him away. He had to get it while it was hot, before her mind took back over her body.

“Baby girl, you got the prettiest pussy on the planet.”

“Her name is Celeste,” she said matter-of-factly, staring up at him. “And she's been wanting you to kiss her since we first saw you this afternoon.”

Day-um!
Baby girl had a name for the pussy, talking about “we.” All of a sudden he heard Momma's voice saying, “Be careful what you wish for, 'cause if you get it, you betta be ready.” Duke knelt on the bed. He bent down, wanting to kiss her pretty thighs and that stomach . . . and that pussy!

The sweet scent made Timbo so hard it hurt. He looked straight into her eyes. She was on her elbows, watching him over the smoothness of her stomach. He almost didn't know where to start. But the tip of his tongue couldn't resist the tip of her clit. The way she was looking at him, her eyes were fiending for him to slurp on it all night.

“Baby girl, you ain't neva had nobody eat yo' pussy?”

“No,” she groaned as if the thought hurt.

“I'm the first and the last,” Duke whispered into the salty sweet cloud of pussy vapors making his face feel hot. He had to go there first. It was so soft, so sweet, so clean. He stuck out his tongue as far it would go.

“Oh my God,” she cried out. “Oh . . . my . . . God.”

Then he wrapped his lips in an “O” shape all the way around that big, red clit. He sucked it into his mouth.

Her whole body heaved. “Duuuuuke!” she moaned.

It sounded so sexy. If he never heard another word, the way she said his name was the most beautiful sound ever to pass into his ears. And he knew she was through. His mouth on her pussy was his magic pass to getting any and everything he ever wanted from her. Didn't need to string her out on drugs like some thugs did to keep their bitches under control. All he had to do was turn her pussy into his own all-you-can-eat buffet, and she'd serve him every day, every way, forever.

The way she was arching her back, sticking the pussy up into his face harder, grinding her hips up into his mouth, she must have wanted this for a long time. Even if some suburban punk had tried it on her, there was no way he could have done it like The Duke.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.

He went back down, sucking on each lip, slurping up that sweet cream. It was so sweet it was like the lemon cake batter he used to lick off of Grammomma's bowl when he was little.

That made Timbo throb even harder with the idea of sliding up into that never-been-entered pussy. He stuck his tongue in, wrapped his lips around her clit, just to suck it in for a minute, like a scoop of strawberry ice cream melting under his kiss. Now it was time for his sure fire trick to make her cum hard, so he could make her his forever.