Sex in the Hood Saga (32 page)

The Queen was snapped out of her thinking when her eyes met with CoCo's. She got the nod from CoCo that meant the money was safe and sound.

“Send me Ping and Pong,” The Queen said. She nodded at the Barriors and B'Amazons, including Lee Lee, who had transported the cash.

As paranoid as Knight had become lately, because of all this money and fools tryin' to jockey for his power, he still trusted the six people around her right now with their lives and their bank. Their job, after the party, would be to take the money to the main vault at Babylon HQ, where it could be processed into the overseas accounts.

“I'll be in the Champagne Room,” The Queen said with her cold business voice. It contrasted with the sexy sultry tone from just minutes ago, as her voice reflected what Knight called the yin and the yang of this erotic enterprise. The ancient Chinese philosophy said that everything had both bad and good, negative and positive, dark and light. And she was about to deal with the ugly side. All the electrifying fucking around her, and the millions she made from it, was the yang, the positive energy, and a direct result of her brilliant business plan to expand Babylon to the untapped women's market.

This 100 women strong national sorority party was a taste of things to come, for sure. Every women's convention coming to Detroit, and the cities where she and Knight were running Babylon, were getting a tour from a visitors and convention bureau of a different sort, offering the kind of extracurricular diversion that was usually reserved for their husbands, boyfriends, fathers, and brothers.

Like Daddy always said, “Get rich in a niche. So now it's the ladies' turn.
The Queen scanned the throng of bodies for the organizer, a high-powered CEO from Chicago, who had orchestrated this night. There she was, kneeling on a window ledge, her hands gripping the sheer white drapes like a rope, as a Stud gripped her hips and drilled her so hard, her close cropped head snapped back with every thrust.

“You should win a businesswoman of the year award,” a white female voice shouted into her ear. “We finally get to enjoy the oldest profession in the world, and hey, this brings new meaning to the term, ‘diversity training.'”

The suntanned woman, with a milky white butt where her bikini bottoms must have been, slinked past, holding hands with a dark chocolate Stud.

“This is for you, Queen,” the woman shrieked as the Stud lifted her up and slammed her blond haired pussy down on his huge dick. Her blue eyes closed, her pampered face crinkled in pleasure.

The Queen's pussy pulsated as the Stud's long fingers wrapped around the woman's thighs, and he yanked her up and down, pounding up into a place that was previously uncharted territory for Babylon.

As the couple fucked, The Queen looked past them to the buffet. The serving platters were gorgeous, naked men whose chests, thighs, and open palms served up decadent mounds of grapes, pineapple chunks, shrimp, scallops, and wedges of brie. All around them, naked women perched on the pillows, chatting and nibbling with abandon. A few women dared to eat with their mouths, directly off the Studs!

I am brilliant. These high-powered women have needed some good dick for a long time. Now I'm fulfilling an important role in the world by providing it. And gettin' mine at least twice a day with the sexiest man alive, because I am Queen of the Knight.
The Queen focused on the couple fucking before her.

The woman's eyes opened, and she smiled.

Damn, my pussy is hot.
But this was business. Pleasure would come later. Because Knight knew his job description as King of Babylon and as The Queen's soul mate meant he had to fuck her good after every event. And he would tonight, later, on the boat.

Now, for the yin—the negative shit that she had to handle within this unique line of work; dealing with difficult workers; like Flame.

No sooner did The Queen turn to glance at him, when he stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and made a face like he was disgusted. His client crouched on the couch and sobbed into her hands. Flame was one of Duke's boys. Ever since Knight had come back and taken over, Flame was having a hard time adjusting to the new chain of command. He made it obvious he had a problem with The Queen and he was demanding he get a “no pussy eating” clause in his job description just because he was one of Babylon's first workers.

The Queen nodded to one of the Studs sipping an energy drink beside the giant fireplace. With a subtle point of her index finger, he walked over to the crying chick, pulled her into his arms, and carried her to a plush window seat overlooking the river. He rocked her in his lap then turned her toward him. Her long, brown hair tossed down her back, her tiny ass slid down over his big dick, and he bounced her troubles away.

That's exactly what The Queen was about to do with Flame. “Get the fuck in the Champagne Room wit' me,” she said with a hard, grinding tone in his ear.

“Bitch, you crazy.”

“Get the fuck in the room unless you'd rather talk to Knight.”

Johnny “Flame” Watts flashed his famous, smoky-gray bedroom eyes. His black as licorice linebacker body stiffened. Then he turned and walked butt naked toward a red door to their right. Even though he was pushing forty, his body was perfect. The Queen drew power from the fact that Knight's two most trusted Barriors, Ping and Pong, followed right behind her. In their black ninja uniforms, guns strapped to their bulging thighs, their earpieces assured her that they could be summoned in a split second if she needed their brawn to beat down this unruly Stud named Flame.

Now, as The Queen and Flame went through the red door and closed it, Ping and Pong stayed outside. They'd be on her in a flash, if necessary; plus the closed-circuit TV would allow Paul and Gerard, codirectors of Babylon security, to watch and listen to their every word and movement. The champagne fountain in the middle of the room gurgled as Flame stood near white couches and cube-shaped chairs that glowed pink under red lights.

A flat-screen TV on the wall blasted a bank robbery story on the ten o'clock news. “In other news tonight,” the anchor said, “Federal agents are still searching for fugitive Victoria Winston. It's been one year since the eighteen-year-old disappeared after her father's mysterious suicide. New information in the case of embezzlement and money laundering against her father has investigators desperate to find the teen; now it's believed that she helped her father launder money for a powerful crime family—”

The Queen snatched up the remote from the glass coffee table. “Turn that shit off.” Her picture, so different from the woman she was now, flashed on the screen. That girl with the innocent smile and the starched white-collared school uniform and pearl earrings was someone else. Victoria Winston had stepped into the hood as a terrified, virginal, white girl, but sex with two Mandingo warrior studs, a crash course in “streetology,” and the discovery of her racial roots had transformed her into a sexy, black diva running a multimillion-dollar urban empire with the sexiest man on the planet.

“Stupid bitch!” Flame's deep laughter assaulted her ears as he doubled over with hysterics. “You can run, but you can't hide.”

She stepped close to him. “You can talk, but call me a bitch one more time and you won't be able to walk.”

“Listen, quit your corny ass rhymin' on me.”

His legendary dick was still semi-hard, forming a perfect black arc from a close cropped frame of black hair between the V of his groin muscles and the iron hard bulges of his thighs. His dick reminded her of the triangle shaped head of a python lying still before pouncing on its prey.

“Listen, the only reason you got a record deal was 'cause Knight told the Bang Squad to do it; ain't 'cause you can sing.”

“You seem to have forgotten that I'm your boss.” The Queen's black leather pants made a crinkling noise as she strode angrily toward him. “This is your job, and it ain't shit for you outside o' Babylon.”

Flame smiled at the TV. “One phone call and your wannabe ghetto ass would be on lockdown with Uncle Sam. Think you tough now that you found your black side, but you ain't never been and won't never be nothin' but a prissy, white bitch who got turned out by some ‘soul brotha' sex in the hood.”

A mirror over the couch behind him, caught The Queen's attention. She glimpsed the expression that she was casting down on him. Her straight, black hair hung down her back and over her forehead in bangs that hit just above her perfectly arched black eyebrows. Big gold hoop earrings tickled her cheeks, which were suntanned deep bronze. Her high, Indian-priestess cheekbones glowed as naturally red as her full, puckering lips.

Damn. I look tough as hell, and so sexy. I'd lick my own pussy if I could reach her
. . .
because I love my life.

That passion sparkled with power in her silver-blue eyes, which were ringed by thick, black lashes and Cleopatra-style liner extending from the corners. Her little round nose crinkled as Flame's words tried to penetrate her thoughts, but she wasn't hearin' it. Her mouth watered at the sight of her blue and gold striped halter top, which squeezed her creamy titties together. She loved the way her newest tattoo played up the phrase
Cleopatra of the Nile
by announcing, in cobalt blue script-style letters that rolled up and over the hills of her chest, with two words on each breast.

And her low-cut pants offered a succulent slice of smooth stomach and showed off the sparkling diamond in her pierced belly button. Black leather hugged her hips just low enough to flaunt her first tattoo,
QUEEN OF THE KNIGHT,
in Gothic script across her lower back.

Yeah, this was the woman The Queen wanted to become. The woman who wasn't scared anymore. Not scared of the mixed-race sex power that killed her mother, not scared of her black side, not scared of punk-ass thug wannabes like Flame here, trying to flex with his bad-boy talk.

She glared into his eyes. “It's your decision.” Her fingertips danced over the choker Knight had given her last night for their first anniversary. The diamonds scratched the back of her index finger as she underlined the thick gold block letters and said, “Read this,QUEEN, whether Duke or Knight is beside me. So you can do your job without the prima donna bitch routine, or leave Babylon.”

“I ain't eatin' no more pussy.” He plopped down on the couch and crossed his arms. “That bitch out there stank!”

“Babylon allows dental dams if both parties agree—”

“Listen, ain't no bitch gonna pay for me to lick her pussy through some plastic.” His gray eyes flashed with rage as he glared up at her.

“You're one of the highest paid Studs at Babylon. You can retire at forty and you'll be well taken care of.”

“I came to Babylon when Prince, Duke, and Knight was a team. And when Knight was down for a while, Duke was handlin' it just fine. Even Milan with her twisted ass was takin' care of bidness, but you—”

“I'm in charge, period.”

“Wish Duke was back.”

“Duke could be dead for all we know, so get back to reality. And get back to work.”

Flame shot to his feet. His nose touched The Queen's nose, and his pussy breath steamed her lips. And his eyes burned with hostility as he glared into hers.

“Step the fuck off.” The Queen pressed her fingertips into his shoulders.

Flame grabbed her wrists. “I'm gon' step the fuck in.” He twisted her around, bent her over, and grabbed her pants just over her ass.

The Queen yanked her wrists, twisting them like Lee Lee had taught her in self-defense classes at the Babylon gym, but his grip was too tight. She stabbed her heels into his bare shins.

“Bitch!” His fingertips scraped the soft skin at the base of her back, stinging her. “I'm gon' cum all over that tattoo. See if you call yourself The Queen after I beat this shit up.” He dug under the waistband of her pants.

“Stop!” she screamed. In an instant, she realized just how quickly shit could turn on her.
Did Ping and Pong not hear me outside the door with that music blasting? Damn! I should've had them come inside.
She had all the power, in the business sense of the word, but Flame was still a man with strong muscles and a pleasure stick that he could turn into a weapon against any woman he chose.

Panic jolted The Queen's every cell.
This is some dangerous shit I'm into right now. Flame could rape me, kill me right now.
But she loved it. And Knight would never let anything happen to her. “Let me go, or you'll be swimmin' in the Detroit River,” The Queen said with a deep, cool voice.

He laughed. “Who gon' stop me?”

That soft voice inside her head, Celeste, spoke from the core of her woman power,
Knight will stop you, muthafucka. Knight won't let you harm a single hair on The Queen's head.

And then she heard his beautiful, bad-ass voice inside her head.
I got your back, baby girl. Always.

The Queen's eyes widened, not from fear, but from complete faith. Knight had always said they were so deeply connected, soul to soul, that one day they'd communicate without talking or even being in the same room. And now it was happening. Her muscles suddenly relaxed. She was safe. She knew intuitively that Knight was on it.