Sex in the Hood Saga (43 page)

I'm killin' him with my pussy.
The Queen studied her terrified eyes in the mirror. She had locked herself in the huge, marble bathroom of their Penthouse.
We make love
so
much, it's sucking the life out of him. I have to stay away from him. No more pussy for Knight until he's better.

She had warned him, but he, like Duke, had laughed when she told them about the killing powers of her pussy.
Poison fruit. Like Eve's poison apple. Taste it in heaven, end up in hell.

“Baby girl!” He pounded on the locked door. “Let me in.”

“Will you go to the doctor?”

“We need to talk.”

That meant no, but she had to convince Knight to get medical help. A doctor or specialist could figure out what was going on. Maybe it was something as simple and controllable as asthma. He could just get an inhaler and some breathing treatments, and he'd be fine. Or perhaps he had some type of virus that could be cured with rest. As much as he was working lately, he hardly slept. Maybe he was just fatigued.

The Queen crossed her legs more tightly, as if she had to pee and was holding it in.

My biggest fear
is
coming true. He's gonna die. And it's partly my fault.

The Queen raked her fingers through her loose hair.

“Baby girl,” Knight called through the locked door. “Baby girl, you okay?”

“No, I'm not okay and neither is your ass.”

“Come out or I'll come in.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can't. It's locked.”

He was silent. But in her mind, she could hear him say,
You know a lock never stopped me. I snuck into Babylon, and into my brother's bed, to get to you.

The Queen shook her head. Why was she hearing his thoughts?

Because the two of you are one,
Celeste answered.
It defies logic. It's supernatural.

A click echoed over the marble bathroom, and the door opened.

Knight walked in.

She didn't bother to ask how he had entered. “It's my curse,” she said, facing the mirror, looking into his tired eyes. They were bloodshot and dull, as if dusty rocks had replaced the sparkling gems in his irises. Plum arcs of fatigue framed his lower lashes, and a grayish pallor covered his normally radiant and dark skin.

“Knight, admit it. My curse is suckin' the life outta you.”

Wearing a plush white robe with KNIGHT embroidered in gold on the left breast, he stood behind her, resting his chin on the top of her head. His huge, black hands rested on her waist, tickling her bare skin.

She was nude, her long black hair falling over her shoulders and breasts and over Knight's hands. A diamond sparkled in her pierced bellybutton.

“Look in my eyes,” he said. Even his delicious sucka lips looked thinner and tense. “What do you see?”

“Sadness, fear. All the things I've never seen there before. All because my pussy power is killing you.”

Knight shook his head. “Baby girl, that's ridiculous. How can you think that?”

She cocked her neck. “Because I've been thinking about it ever since I was six years old and I went to my young, healthy mamma's funeral and my cousin said she got fucked to death”

Knight took her hands into his. “Baby girl, there's no medical ailment showing you can die from making love. It creates life, literally and figuratively. It heals. Since I've been with you, I've felt more alive than—”

“Yeah, I could tell how alive it's making you feel when you almost fell out in the meeting tonight,” The Queen snapped sarcastically.

“It's just the pressure of everything piling up.”

“Right on your chest. You hardly sleep, you're constantly working, you're running yourself ragged, and you won't even go to the doctor.”

“I'll go tomorrow.”

“You need to go right now.” The Queen spun around. His face blurred through her tears. “Knight, if anything happens to you, I'll just die.”

“Tinkerbell, watch your words; they have power. Anything you say can and will come true, baby girl, if you put it out there.”

“Then read my lips, Knight. If anything ever happens to you, I'll just die. You hear me? I'll scream it while we're making love, to give it that extra power.”

Knight scooped her into his arms. “I'm going to make love to you right now to prove that I'm fine. We'll concentrate on the good things we want. Don't speak those words again.”

As he walked, she cupped her hands over his jaw and stared into his beautiful eyes. She had to make him well again.

She imagined he were a picture that she could airbrush back to perfection. “Look at my Knight,” she whispered. “I gotta get the color back in your cheeks. And erase those dark circles.”

“Give me some love therapy.”

“No,” she said softly. Just the idea of him not feeling his best because of her made her stomach ache. “I don't want to make love until you feel better and look better.”

Their sensuous theme song, “Love You to the Infinity,” which she'd recorded with the Bang Squad, played softly in the huge bedroom. She led him to their bed and straddled his lap so she could face him.

“I'm gonna heal you of whatever is wrong, but not with sex,” The Queen whispered, pressing her lips to each of his cheeks for long moments. Her bare behind rested on his thighs. Her hair was long and loose down her back, tickling the tops of his hands around her waist. “If you hurt,” she said, “I hurt. If you cry, I cry. If you die, I die.”

He groaned. “Baby girl, don't say that.”

“If you die, I die,” she said more forcefully. “It's the honest ‘Romeo-and-Juliet' truth, so hear it.”

“No, no, baby girl.”

“Yes, yes, beautiful Knight. You're all I got in this whole world. One million lifetimes of love all rolled into one.”

A tear rolled down his cheek.

“I've never seen you cry,” she whispered, licking the tear with the tip of her tongue.

“I don't,” he said. “But where I come from, you don't see a love this pure and untainted by insecurity and jealousy.”

The Queen laughed softly. “I was ready to knock that Reba bitch's block off when she rubbed her fat ass up against you in the meeting.”

Knight smiled. “But you didn't 'cause you're secure. You know even the sexiest woman can't steal a man unless he's already put himself at risk for theft.”

“My parents had this kind of love. Love so good it kills.”

“We'll use our lovemaking power together to make me feel invincible again,” Knight said. “And we'll exorcise your mind of that ridiculous curse.”

“It's not ridiculous,” she snapped. “Kiss me, baby girl.”

“Not until you—”

Knight pressed his lips onto hers. His warm lips sent shivers down her spine. The Queen and Knight synchronized their breaths. Both breathed in deeply, slowly, with the same pace and rhythm, then they breathed out just the same, all the while never separating their mouths from each other. They held their hands up, pressing their fingertips and palms together.

She stared into his beautiful black eyes and concentrated on the words
ridiculous curse.
Curse or no curse, they would live and love together or share their final breath.

She closed her eyes. Blue and purple sparks glittered like tiny stars behind the blackness of her closed eyelids. Her mind went numb, and her body tingled; she felt her spirit rise up and dance with Knight's, around their bodies.

Opening her eyes, she gazed lovingly into his eyes. She loved every detail of this man.

I love you to the infinity,
The Queen thought.

Knight's eyes sparkled.
I love you to the infinity, baby girl.

Though their lips were still connected in a kiss, The Queen couldn't stop herself from gasping.

Knight's lips felt like they were twisting into a smile too. He pulled back. “You heard me think,” he whispered.

“You heard me first.” She giggled.

“We are one mind,” he said. “One heart. One soul.” Knight smiled at her. The energy between each other right now, she was sure, was so strong, it could melt gold.

Then surely it could heal whatever ailed him.

She kissed him back passionately, feverishly, hoping her heart, lungs, and brain would become his life support until his own body jolted back to normal. They had to. Or she'd die right along with him.

As he left the dentist's office, all Brian wanted to do was punish the black bitch that his sweet Victoria had become. He ran his tongue over the new caps and veneers to replace the jagged front teeth that had remained after his run in with the so called Queen.

“Kill the bitch!” his favorite gangsta rappers shouted from his stereo as he climbed into his new Range Rover and turned the key in the ignition.

The pounding beat made him clench his fists with the need to blast her back in the mouth, and other places, as she had done to him. She'd become the dirty whore of that inner city kingpin whose cock was probably like a black python, poisoning the pussy that Brian had once wanted so much.

And now he didn't even want the tainted shit. He just wanted to destroy it.

All that time, after he'd seen her look alike sister Melanie's picture on TV, he'd thought Victoria was dead.

His stomach gurgled. He hadn't been eating because his teeth were hurting so bad. And now he hungered for vengeance.

Nobody treated Brian Martin like that. Not only was he working for one of the most powerful men in the world, but his pedigreed, white blood entitled him to respect.

Every inch of him, from his chubby fingers down to his swollen dick, throbbed with rage. It blinded him to the fact that he'd be double crossing his boss, Red Moreno, who wanted her for himself.

Brian flipped open his cell phone, punched in the code that would make his call untraceable, and dialed the FBI. They finally connected him with a dude named Rick Reed.

Brian imitated the way his father spoke when handling the details of multimillion-dollar business deals. He deepened his voice and said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Reed. I'm calling to alert you of the whereabouts of Victoria Winston, who's been wanted for more than a year after—”

“I know who she is.” The dude cut him off.

Brian couldn't tell if he were black or white.

“I thought her body was found in her father's house?”

“Mr. Reed, I'm about to make you a hero. Victoria Winston is alive and well. Find her, and you'll solve the murder of Melanie Winston. You'll also crack open an inner city prostitution ring that's bigger and more organized than you'll believe. And I can tell you exactly how and when to do it.”

“Let's deal.”

The “gold-digger glint” in Reba's eyes let Duke know she was his for the taking. And she'd do anything to get what she thought he could give her. Even though he was a shot-up, cracked out, HIV infected muthafucka right now, who was letting her foot the bill for this hotel room while he recovered from Knight's gunshots.

She stood over the bed, pulling down the sheets to inspect his wounds.

Duke was laying on his good side, resting his cheek on the pillow. “Reba,” he called playfully. He sang, “Suga, suga, how ya get so fine?”

His gaze raked over her skin tight jeans that were so low cut, they revealed the top of that little heart shaped poof of hair over her pussy. Her nipples poked through her orange cropped top that matched her baseball cap. He reached out to touch the orange rhinestone star in her belly button.

“Quit, boy!” she played with her high pitched, little girl voice. “You need to rest. Get yo' strength. So you can be king again.”

Duke stared up into the dollar signs flashing in her eyes.

She wanted nothing more than to be at his side as he fought his way back to the top of Babylon. So she could live her ghetto fabulous fantasy as his wife.

And his dream wouldn't be complete without is woman back at this side.

But for now, Reba would do. She was devious enough to carry out any command he ordered in his war against Knight. And she was mad enough at Knight, for rejecting her, to enjoy his execution.

She's using me, I'm using her; we even. An' we gon' get rich together, or die tryin
'.

He watched her ass pop like two round balloons covered in denim. Every step toward the bathroom made one rise up, and then the other go down.

Timbo swelled like a tree trunk thick, hard, and long. But now his dick was a killing machine. Nobody would fuck him if they knew, so he wouldn't tell.

Duke's insides felt like a whirlpool of dirty water spinning down into a drain in the gutter. Because he was filthy. How could he have let himself get this bad?

“Reba,” he said playfully. “Reba Sheba be my girl.”

Her little girl laughter echoed from the bathroom. “Why you sayin' my name like you wanna fuck?” she cooed over the sound of water wringing out of a washcloth into the sink. She giggled, peering from the doorway. “Boy, you could kill yo'self tryin' to fuck right now. Bleed to death. Pass out from no strength. You betta quit!”

She strutted back toward him with the washcloth and bandages. The warm cotton on his face, and her gentle touch, made him close his eyes and wish he were a little boy getting some “Mama love,” but Mama had kicked him out, and this was a ho polishing up her ticket to the jackpot.

“Dang, Duke!” She flitted her long ponytail over her shoulder. A whiff of expensive perfume overwhelmed him. “Every time I look at you, I have to remember. You don't hardly look like—naw, let me stop.” She folded her big, juicy lips inward, then nodded. “Knight always says, ‘Make it positive.' So, we gon' fix you back up so you even more healthy and fine than you was a year ago.”

“You gon' be my nurse?” he asked, rubbing his knuckles against her right nipple. “You gon' help me?”

“Read my lips,” she whispered, her face just inches from his. “Reba at your service. Ain't nothin' too much to ask. I'ma do any an' everything to get us where we need to be.”

Duke grinned.

“That's my suga pie.” She smiled and pressed those juicy lips to his forehead. “We the new Bonnie an' Clyde. Takin' Dtown by storm, baby!”

Duke roared, “Oh, shit!” He grimaced. “I forgot. I can't laugh like that no more. That muthafucka fucked me up!”

Reba shot up, stepping toward the dresser. “Let me get you another pill.” She pulled open the drawer where the doctor had stashed all of his medicine. Painkillers, antibiotics, and his HIV cocktail were all in the top drawer under his shirts. “Damn! You got a whole drug store in here.”

“No!” Duke shouted. “Don't nobody but the doctor need to give me my drugs. She gon' be here at four.”

“That's in three more hours.” Reba's tone was sassy. “But you need some now. How we gon' make plans an' you can't barely see straight 'cause it hurt so much?”

Time stood still as she pulled back the sweaters and stared down. If she knew the name of an HIV drug when she saw one, he'd be busted. An' his plan wouldn't work 'cause she be outta there in a hot minute. “Bitch, shut the drawer. Come back ova here.”

Reba sucked her teeth and slammed the drawer.

A hard knock on the door made Duke reach under the blankets and grip his gun.

“Who the fuck?” Duke whispered.

Reba had already canceled maid service in this upscale, downtown Detroit hotel. And it wasn't room service because she had already brought in a pizza and salad for lunch.

And Shar, Leroy, and Raynard Ingalls of Chicago all knew better than to show up at his hotel room. Their scheming plans on taking over Babylon was all being handled over the phone for now.

Duke gripped his gun ready to blast off if he had to, even while he was fucked up in his bed. “It's probably Antoine,” Reba whispered as she tiptoed to the peephole. “Yup.”

“I don't want that muthafucka to see me.”

“We can't make a plan without him.” Reba unhooked the chain lock and turned the bolt.

Duke had already suffered the shame of his brother, his mother, his doctor, and Reba staring into his face with pity and shock. Now he didn't want one of the finest Studs in Babylon to do the same. “Reba don't open that muthafuckin' door.”

She opened it quickly.

Antoine glanced both ways down the hall and slipped in. “Yo,” he said with a quick wave, “Duke, good to see you, man.”

Duke glared at that caramel-colored pretty boy with a healthy dick. No bullet wounds. No crack-ravaged blood, bones, and body.

Duke closed his eyes to escape this nightmare, but Reba's girlie voice, talking about the time schedule, snagged him back to reality.

Duke stared hard into Antoine's eyes. “How we know you ain't got an allegiance wit' Knight?”

“You don't.” Antoine shrugged. “All I got is my word. An' you remember from back in the day, we was tight like that.” Antoine stared back hard in a way that said, “Follow me if you need to.”

Reba play slapped his hand. “Duke, I ain't gon' bring somebody up in here who ain't on the team. An' you ain't in no position to go out recruitin'. Antoine all right.”

“Bet.” Duke shot him a hard look. “You play right an' you gon' get ova real good.”

“I'm in,” Antoine said, pulling up a chair for himself and another for Reba.

“Now, this the way it”—Duke grimaced in pain—“its gon' go down the night o' The Games. An' anybody who stand in my way gon' get steamrolled.”