Red Hot Liar (9781617738654) (8 page)

“I
've got some important news to share with you two,” Viceroy called Barron and Dane to his office later that night. He had just woken up and got his head right, and his eyes were still bloodshot and his breath still smelled like gin. He had missed the entire
Okrah
filming but he didn't care. That fire-water had had his ass calling cows in his sleep, but it wasn't enough of a drunk-fest to ease the pain of what Selah had done, or of knowing that Ruddman had dipped his spoon deep into his private pot of honey.

Dane took a seat in one of the chairs across from his father's desk, but Barron stood with his back stiff against the wall, refusing to sit down. He could still hear the anguish in his mother's voice when she'd called to tell him that Viceroy had put her outside in the pool house, and he was straight up pissed that his father had confirmed that shit and said Selah wasn't going to be welcome under his roof no time soon.

“I had a meeting with my advisors today and I've decided to run for political office,” Viceroy said without fanfare. “It's a state-level position with the Railroad Commission with top seats on several commissions and strong ties to the regulatory board. I've got some key backers standing in my corner and they really think I can get the win.”

Dane nodded like it was a cool idea, but Barron frowned and raised an eyebrow like dude was buggin'.

“So what does that mean for us?” Dane asked. “Is there anything we can do to help you win?”

“Definitely.” Viceroy nodded. “Y'all can make sure folks around here start getting their shit together like right now! Everything's been going to hell in a handbasket up in this place and all the craziness and drama has gotta come to a complete halt. The election is in three weeks and it's gonna be real close. My political foes are experienced and they're gonna be all over us like stink on a fart. They'll be digging for dirt all up under our fingernails, and the media will put our entire lives under the microscope. I'm gonna need everybody to be on their absolute best behavior, and that means you too, Dane. All that drug smoking and chick banging is gonna have to be over with because if one of you comes up with so much as a shit stain in your drawers it's gonna cost me the election.”

Barron had stood by silently mean-mugging his father all this time, but he was way too amped to stop himself from blasting on the man.

“So what the hell brought all this on, Pop?” he asked, throwing up his hands. “I mean, there's a whole lot of chaos going on in the family right now.
Okrah
was broadcasting live in our backyard today and she talked shit to Mama on national TV and said she used to be a drunk! Between us filing charges against Dy-Nasty and sending her to jail, and that thing named Peaches that you let Bunni bring up in here. Not to mention the fact that you have my
mother
sleeping out in the pool house like some common piece of ass off the streets.” Barron shook his head. “We ain't got nothing to be proud of so I don't understand why you would wanna shine any kind of spotlight on the Dominion name right now.”

Viceroy scoffed dismissively. “For one thing, Peaches is getting his or her ass up outta here pronto, and for another thing, your mother is sleeping exactly where she deserves to be sleeping! Nobody outside of the family has to know anything about where she lays her head at night and I plan to keep it like that.”

“But Bunni is trying get a reality show going,” Dane reminded them. “Once that goes down this entire joint is gonna be crawling with strangers and cameras, the whole nine. You think you can run a campaign with all of that going on?”

“Won't none of that bullshit be going on!” Viceroy snapped. “Bunni can kill that reality show nonsense. It ain't happening. Bob Easton said everything around here has got to be squeaky clean. I plan on winning this election, goddammit, and I can't have any distractions or disruptions knocking me off course.”

Barron shrugged but he still looked doubtful in the face. “Whatever you say, Pops. I think it's a risky move and you're trying to do too much, but hell, it's your move to make.”

“You got that shit right,” Viceroy said, grilling the hell out of his oldest son, who, to his great displeasure, had always been too much of a mama's boy. “It's my move and I'm calling all the shots. All of them! Now, my paperwork has been filed and my public declaration is being announced first thing tomorrow morning, and that's when the shit's gonna get real hot and funky. Don't worry about me and your mama, boy.” He clapped Barron on the back as he dismissed him from his office. “I got this shit. Remember, I'm the captain and your ass is just one of the crew. All I need you to do is hold the lil yellow chicken down and let me choke him, son. You just hold his ass down and I'll choke his goddamn lights out.”

 

Now that I was officially a Dominion it was gonna take a whole lotta lying and sneaking around in order for me and Suge to keep getting our mash on. Hooking up and fucking like rabbits had been all well and good when Viceroy was laid up in his coma and I was busy running my lil get-money scheme on the Dominion goldmine, but now that I was a certified member of the crew it looked like our delicious little grind game was gonna have to come to a screeching halt. Unless we took it underground on the sneak tip, that is.

“Don't tell me you cussed Okrah Sinfree out.” Suge laughed as we ate donuts in his office early the next morning. We were planning on going down to the racetrack when it opened up in a couple of hours, but first he had some work he needed to take care of at Dominion Oil headquarters.

“Oh yes I did,” I said proudly as I bit into a vanilla custard bowtie. I was wearing some hip-hugging booty shorts and sitting my rump on the edge of his desk while he shuffled through a stack of paperwork. I had started out porno-posing on his butter-soft couch, but he had been igging me, busy tryna work, so I had jetted over to him and plopped my hot lil honeybuns right down on his desk.

“You shoulda been there. I straight wigged out on her ass! I don't care how rich and famous she is, I didn't appreciate the way she tried to put Mama Selah and all our family bizz on front street. The sun was shining real bright outside but that hater chick was just bringing too damn much shade!”

Suge grinned as I raised my knee and stuck my bare foot in his lap, wiggling my toes all on his dick and fuckin' with him. I didn't give a damn what kinda work he was doing with all those boring papers. I wanted his cock-strong ass to work on
me
!

“You're a real loyal chick, Mink,” Suge told me as he pushed his papers aside and put his big ol' paw down on my thigh. “C'mere.” He scooted his plush armchair back from his desk and swiveled me into position until my coochie was staring him in the face. He pulled me toward him and slid his thick fingers up the inside leg of my shorts. I scooted my butt closer to the edge of the desk and his fingers found my naked pussy and slid straight through my slick, curly hairs.

“Oooh,
shit
!” I bit my lip, happy that I didn't have on no drawers as I gapped my legs open wider and leaned back as he played with my pearl. Suge gripped my hip with his other hand as he slipped his middle finger deeply inside me and slowly fucked the shit outta me.

“This what you wanted?” he asked me quietly.

I nodded like crazy.

“Here!” I whispered and pulled up my shirt and bra and let my titties fly free. Them bangin' twins jiggled and bounced like a mutha as I humped and grinded on Suge's finger, and when his lips clamped down on my nipple and he damn near sucked my whole titty into his mouth, I arched my back and bucked my hips real hard a few times and came hard as hell!

It was a real quick nut, just enough to hold me off until I could get that big black dick up in me, and as Suge sat there licking my juices off his fingers I pushed against his shoulders until his chair was back far enough for me to stand up. I peeped that boulder bulging in the crotch of his dress pants and my greedy fingers moved quick as shit as I unbuckled his belt and slid his zipper down.

I lifted that thing outta his drawers like it was made of pure gold, and then I slipped one leg outta my shorts and let them fall down around my ankles. I spread the lips of my triangle and let Suge look at my pretty pussy as I rubbed my throbbing clit, then I turned around slowly and leaned forward with my elbows on my desk so he could get a good look at my yellow banana ass.

“Beautiful,” I heard him whisper behind me, and then I felt the tickle of his moustache and his warm lips on my skin as he gently kissed my ass in about a thousand places. By the time he lifted my booty cheeks up in his hands and spread those lumps east and west, my stuff was purring and dripping in anticipation.

I put my head down on his desk and whimpered like a kitten as he lapped at my cheeks, my hole, and then my pulsating split. Suge got down on his knees and lifted my ass cheeks even higher as he ate me out from behind. His wet tongue was everywhere, whipping back and forth deliciously over all my most sensitive spots.

This time when I came there wasn't no small time gasping and moaning. “Yeah! Eat this pussy! Munch me out!” I cried, poking my ass out and humping my hips up and down on his face as I squeezed my titties and pinched my nipples until I creamed over and over. Suge lapped my cum up with his tongue, then gripped my hips and gently urged me backwards, into his lap.

That dick was standing up like a street pole as I lowered myself down on the firm, thick crown. I heard him grunt as I arched my back and let him get up in my na-na until my ass was on his thighs. We moved together in a sweet, funky rhythm as I held on to the arms of his chair and he reached around and massaged my breasts. We had that big ol' office hot and steamy as my pussy made wet, sloshing sounds every time I down-stroked on that chocolate dick.

“I got one for you,” Suge muttered behind me as he played with my titties and licked and sucked on the back of my neck.

“Well give it to me then,” I whispered, squeezing my pussy muscles tightly around his shaft as I shimmied and bounced on his pole. “Gimme that shit, big boy. Gimme all of it!”

Suddenly that beast gripped my hips and lifted me straight up offa him!

He pushed me forward and leaned me over the desk, then drove that iron dick back up inside me and pounded so hard my whole face bounced off the wood.

“Oochie! Oochie! Oochie!” I yelped with pleasure-pain and slobbered all over his papers as he rammed his dick up in me like he was aiming for it to bust outta my throat. Suge slid his finger down the crack of my ass and massaged my back door, then grunted and plunged deep up in my guts and shot a full load of buckshot in my tunnel as we collapsed on his desk together, just a-panting and grinning.

“Hey, how about you give me a job up in this joint,” I joked a few minutes later as we took a shower in his private bathroom and Suge gently rubbed my soapy pussy with his thick fingers. “If you let me be your assistant then I could come to work with you every day, dude.”

He kissed me on my forehead and shook his head as he aimed the spray of warm water down at my crotch. “Hell no. You ain't bringing your fine ass up in here every day.” He slapped me on my wet booty. “The only work a nigga would ever get done would be working on you.”

I
t was ten a.m. on Wednesday morning when the urgent email popped up on his screen. The man sitting in front of the computer read the message three times before he got up from his chair and walked into his boss's office.

“You're not gonna believe this shit but we just got ourselves a legitimate challenger for Cooper's vacant chairman's seat,” Larry Dawkins announced as he walked into Railroad Commissioner Stewart Baker's office. “His name is Viceroy Dominion and he's out of the Houston district. He filed his ballot paperwork late last night and he made his public declaration this morning.”

“So?” Stewie hunched his shoulders and looked up at his campaign manager unconcerned. “It's my turn to get the chairman's seat. Perry's only appointed this guy for the next three weeks. Even if he's stupid enough to run, there's no way he can win in my district.”

Larry shook his head. “Apparently he thinks he can. This Dominion guy is the real deal, and I'm telling you if we don't do something drastic he might just win, Stewie. He's got nearly every card in the deck stacked in his favor. He could beat the socks off you at the polls and win this thing hands down. That is, unless we can come up with a plan to stop him.”

Viceroy Dominion.
Stewart Baker turned the name over in his mind as his stomach twisted and turned in big knots. Reaching into his top drawer, he took out a container and popped two extra-strength Tums in his mouth and crunched them between his back teeth.

He'd been the front-runner during every election cycle for the past eight years, which was no small feat for a liberal Democrat in a southern red state. As the chairman of the Texas oil board he'd twisted a lot of arms and exerted a lot of influence over the state's refinery regulatory body, and he had cronies in his pocket from one end of the Lone Star state to the next.

He sighed as he looked down at the press announcement his white-haired campaign manager had printed out and slid in front of him. A color photo of a smiling Viceroy Dominion stared back at him. Stewie was accustomed to some redneck from the local saloon putting up a halfhearted fight and running for office every other year, and he enjoyed smashing their asses like ants on election day too.

But the world was changing and this was something different. Not only was it the first time that a darkie had ever dared to cast his hat in the ring and put his name on the ballot, it was the first time anyone with loaded pockets and a great public persona had ever challenged his position too.

“What makes you so sure he can beat me?” Stewie huffed, trying to sound tough. “He's got some decent credentials, but I've got quite a bit of political capital around here too, Larry. Just 'cause he's running doesn't mean he can win.”

“Dabnabbit, have you seen the stats on this guy?” Larry blurted. “He's the richest darkie in the whole damn state, Stewart! He's a black oil man, and he's got the perfect public story. This is the guy who got blown all to hell when that rig went up in the Gulf of Mexico last year. The media bombarded us with so many pictures of him wrapped up like a mummy with his beautiful wife weeping at his bedside that the whole damn world cried with her. And his kids are perfect, man. Not so much as a crooked tooth on any of them! In fact, one of the girls went missing about eighteen years ago and they put her picture on the back of a milk carton to try and get her back. And it worked too! They found her recently and brought her back home. Trust me. I've been doing this job for a long time and I can promise you that Viceroy Dominion is going to poll higher than you can shoot a space shuttle. Short of rushing into a burning building and rescuing some kids, some kittens, and a couple of old soupy-mouthed grannies, there's no way you can beat him by playing politics as usual, Stewie. No fucking way.”

Stewart flung his drawer open again and snatched out his bottle of Tums. “Well, if there's no way I can beat him then what the hell are we doing here? If I've already lost the election then I might as well pack it up and take it on home right now!”

“Now hold on,” Larry said, grinning slyly. “I didn't say you've already lost. I said there's no way you can beat this bastard by doing things the usual way. You've got to sharpen up your knife and tighten up your strategy, Stew. You've gotta be willing to dig in the mud and get your lil soft white hands dirty. Politics is a grimy business, as you very well know. If you're gonna beat Viceroy Dominion you're going to have to run a different kind of race.”

“And what kind of race is that, Larry?”

“Well,” Larry said with a devious twinkle in his eye, “the kind that always wins, of course. The kind that always wins.”

 

Selah couldn't believe this shit. While Viceroy had every right to be pissed behind the crazy stunt Ruddman had pulled, homeboy was taking this drama a little bit too damn far. Not only had he banished her to the pool house, he had forbidden her to so much as step foot inside their lavish bedroom suite.

“Just tell me what you need and I'll hand it to you,” he barked, blocking the doorway with his body two nights after putting her out. She'd come upstairs to see if she could throw some sweet talk and a slice of ass down on him and saw that he'd changed the locks on their suite and even installed a motion-sensor-operated security camera outside their door.

“Are you serious?” Selah said like,
nigga you must be kidding!
“I need some of my bathroom items, Viceroy! My toiletries and a few other personal things. Open the door, baby. It will only take me a quick second to get them.”

“Open, hell,” Viceroy bitched, standing his ground as he glared at her like he wanted to deck her in her other eye. “You ain't getting your ass up in here, Selah. I don't trust you and I don't want you nowhere around me. I wanna say I don't know where the hell you been, but I
do
know. I know like a muthafucka!”

“Viceroy,
please
,” Selah pleaded. She had never in life begged a man for a damn thing—except Ruddman of course, she had gotten all on her knees and begged him for that dick—but she was worn down and ready to beg Viceroy now. Somehow the sweet taste of revenge she'd always thought would tantalize her tongue instead burned her throat like hot peppers and she was desperate to get back in her husband's good graces. “This is ridiculous. You know I'd never betray you. Never!”

“I don't know shit about you, Selah,” Viceroy barked, slamming the door in her face. “For all I know you could be a scallywag, a chicken, a trollop or a tramp! Until you produce your engagement ring and show and prove that the one Ruddman has ain't yours, then I don't know
what
the hell you would do. I don't know how you living, I don't know how you roll, I don't know a goddamn thing about you!”

 

Back in his office Larry Dawkins leaned back in his chair and propped his three-thousand-dollar cowboy boots up on his desk. As a long-time campaign manager he had been a student of Texas politics for nearly forty years and he was damn proud of the fact that he had never run a race that he couldn't win. And if he had anything to say about it, this battle between his guy Stewart Baker and that black-ass Viceroy Dominion wasn't going to be any different.

He lit a cigar and glanced through the dossier of information that he had compiled on the private affairs of his current political foe. Larry was as shrewd and resourceful as any snake that had ever slithered the face of the earth, and he took great pride in rooting out the nitty-gritty nuggets of information that most people would give their last dime to keep hidden.

A frown creased his brow as he flipped through the folder and absorbed what he found. Everything he had told Stewart about his contender was true. Viceroy Dominion was super black and super rich. He had been born and raised in the slums of Houston, and through a shit-load of hard work and dedication, he had pulled himself up by the bootstraps and made a way out of no way. He'd gone from being a penniless gutter thug who barely scraped out enough to eat, to the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar oil company. All while maintaining a marriage to his college sweetheart and raising a stable of five decent and well-behaved children. At least that's what the report said.

But Larry had never been one to take things at face value. Over the years he'd discovered that things were hardly ever what they looked like, especially from the outside peeking in, and that people were willing to go to great lengths to maintain a certain public image that didn't have a damn thing to do with how they truly lived their lives in private.

Larry shut the folder and scrolled through the contacts in his cell phone. He wasn't interested in Viceroy Dominion's public fucking image. He didn't give a damn how much the man dropped into the collection plate at church or how often he flossed his fuckin' teeth. It wasn't what Dominion did while the world was watching that was going to cost him this election. No, it was the dirt under his fingernails that Larry was after. The shit he dragged home on the bottom of his shoes.

Politics was a filthy game, full of dirty, disgusting players. It didn't matter who you were or how you rolled, there was always something dark and grimy hiding in the back of your closet, and if you were running against
his
guy, then it was Larry's job to find out exactly what that something was.

He chuckled under his breath as he paused at a name displayed in his phone's index. Larry knew exactly the type of bloodhound he could send in to stick a wet nose up the crack of Viceroy's ass. Thanks to Stewie's insatiable taste for redheads they had an ace in the pocket that made an ordinary gumshoe dick look like the Avon lady. He clicked on the phone number and grinned when it was answered on the other line.

“Yeah, let me speak to GiGi,” he drawled happily. “GiGi Molinex.”