Ruthless (19 page)

My eyes zoom in on the phone number highlighted in yellow. I dial the number, then wait…

“Hello?” the female voice on the other end says.

Instantly my voice goes from feminine sounding to deep and raspy. “Yo, what's good, ma. Let me holla at Vernon.”

“Who the fuck is this?” the chick snaps nastily.

“Bitch, don't worry 'bout who dis is. Put that dick-suckin' pussy, Vernon, on da line, yo. I gotta nut I need him to suck outta dis hard-ass dick.”

“Whaaat?!
Who the fuck you callin' a bitch? Bring ya punk, pussy-ass over here ‘n' say that shit to my face. And what the fuck you mean you gotta dick for
my
man to suck?”

I laugh. “Yo, chill. I ain't got no beef wit' you, boo. But I got some beef for dat nigga, Vernon, yo.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, nigga, you callin' my motherfuckin' phone. This ain't Vernon's shit. So say what the fuck you gotta say, then get the fuck off my line.”

“Ya nigga suck dick, ma.”

“Say,
what?
Oh, hell naw! I know you ain't callin' here with no bullshit like this. Ain't no way in hell the Vernon I know is suckin'
no nigga's dick.”

“Well, then you a fool. What you think he be doin' when he's up in the county?”

“I know he ain't suckin' no goddamn dick. Not the Vernon I know.”

I laugh. “Well, obviously you don't know the Vernon I know. Because the nigga sucked mine.”

“Vernon!” she yells in my ear. “Get yo' black ass in here!”

I hear a man's voice in the background. “Yo, what da fuck is you screamin' out my name like that for?”

“Who the fuck you been suckin' in the county?”

“What?”

“Nigga, you heard me. You got some muthafuckin' shit-packer callin' my goddamn phone talkin' 'bout you his dick sucker?”

“Say what? Who da fuck is that on da phone?”

“How the fuck I know. I tol' you it's some nigga callin' here talkin' 'bout you suckin' dick…”

I smirk.

“Give me that shit. Yo, who da fuck is this?”

“Yo, what's good, pussy? When you gonna let me push dis dick down in ya neck? I gotta nut for ya throat, nigga.”

“Say what, muhfucka? Run dat shit by me again? You said, when am I gonna let you do
whaaat…?!”

“Nigga,” the chick screams in the background, “I know one goddamn thing. Let me find out you out there suckin' on some nigga's dick ‘n' I'ma have you fucked up. I mean it, Vernon! I put up wit' you fuckin' all ya skank-ass baby mothers, but I ain't puttin' up wit' no shit like dis. The only bitch suckin' dick up in here better be
me
. I ain't havin' no down-low shit up in dis here motherfucker…”

“Yo, shut da fuck up wit' dat dumb shit. Ain't no body suckin' no fuckin' dicks. Yo, son…real shit, muhfucka, don't let me find out who da fuck you are. Comin' at me wit' some gay shit. I'ma
bust yo' shit open, nigga. My word, muhfucka. I'ma light yo' shit up.”

“Nigga, eat my dick!”

I disconnect, falling back on my bed laughing hysterically. I laugh so hard that I am now in tears.
Oh, yes, motherfucker. I'm going to fuck you real good.

I slip the headset off my head, wrap its cord around the cell, then tuck it under one of my pillows. A few minutes later, I return to the living room and find Greta standing at the bar, fixing a drink for herself. “Would you like one?”

I saunter further into the room. “I don't mind if I do.” I sink into one of the leather chairs, crossing my legs. “Sooo. Now that we've gotten all caught up with my drama. What would you like to do today? I was thinking we could drive out to Venice Beach and, maybe, grab a bite to eat.”

“That sounds good.” She grabs another crystal flute, fills it with champagne, then walks over with both glasses. She hands me one. I take a sip.

I take a quick sip. “Or if you'd like. We can do something else.”

She sinks into the chair next to me, placing a coaster down on the marble table that's positioned in between both chairs. “Well, it's so gorgeous out. I would
love
…” Her voice trails off as Mel and Sophia walk through the door, carrying bags of groceries. Greta's voice drops to a sultry whisper. To
fuck
the shit out of
him
. But seeing that he only has eyes for
you
…”

Champagne slides down my throat the wrong way and I cough, trying to keep from choking. My eyes start to water. It takes me a few seconds to pull myself together. “Girl, stop. He's my bodyguard.”

She takes a slow sip of her drink, then eyes me over the rim of her glass. She smirks. “Uh-huh, bitch. Play stupid if you want. Trust me.
Guarding
your body isn't the
only
thing on that sexy-ass man's mind.”

A good hard dick is a terrible thing to waste…

T
he annoying sound of my buzzing cell jolts me from a light, restless drowse. I sit up, feeling disoriented, wondering when I'd finally nodded off. For most of the night I'd tossed and turned, a smoldering fire lit between my legs. An aching, burning need to have the flames fanning along the inside of my walls pounded out of my pussy overwhelmed me. Masturbation hadn't brought relief. A cold shower—with the detachable showerhead positioned between my parted thighs, barely grazing my spread pussy lips, and its pulsing water beads beating up into my smoldering cunt—only managed to soothe the boiling heat once I slid a dildo in and fucked into the wet inferno. Only then was I able climb into bed and doze off.

To only be awakened, three hours later, to
this
. I blink.

It isn't my personal line. It's the burner phone. I reach over, my fingers fumbling toward the glowing light, then press the
TALK
button, bringing it to my ear.

“Hello?” I answer groggily.

“Yo, it's done. We hit 'em all at once.”

I rub my eyes, glancing over at the window. Streaks of dawn creep their way through the slits of my custom blinds. “All three? And no problems?”

He lets out a slight chuckle. “Nah, nothin' real niggas can't handle. We lit the sky up. Turned it into a Fourth of July celebration out that muhfucka. Fireworks e'erywhere. The news will be hot ‘n' poppin' first thing in the mornin'.”

I lean up, propping up my pillows in back of me. I lean back, a smile easing over my lips.
This now makes six of Jasper's stash houses
gone. Poof! Burned down to the ground. How you like me now, motherfucker?

I don't bother to ask how many casualties there were. Don't care to know how many niggas got dropped. The only thing I care about is crippling Jasper's flow, shutting his ass down. Niggas like him have to get hit in their pockets, hard. I may not know where the rest of Jasper's spots are, but it doesn't matter. Right now, I know his ass is feeling it. Crushed. In less than a week's time, I've managed to shut down business and jack his paper, his product, and his manpower.

“Thank you.”

“No doubt, Pasha. You already know what it is. So you good?” I tell him I am. Then I tell him that I need for him to handle something else for me. “I got you. Let me know what you need and it's done.” I give him the address to the two-family dwelling in East Orange. Tell him I need someone to monitor the comings and goings there. “Say no more. Anything else?”

“Bust out every damn window.”

The call ends. Facing the nightstand, I reach over and turn on the light, then place my feet on the carpet, my toes sinking into the plush fibers as I stand to make my safety checks—more so out of habit than necessity; especially now with Mel being here.

Mel.

Snatches of Greta's comments about him ring in my ear as I slip
into my robe. “Trust me.
Guarding
your body isn't the
only
thing on that sexy-ass man's mind.”

I dismiss the thought from my head, checking the security panel, then double-checking the locks on the doors and windows despite the high-tech system indicating all areas are properly secured.

I check in on Jaylen, walking into his room, then leaning down and kissing him on the side of his head. I watch him sleep for several seconds, breathing in everything he is, lightly rubbing his soft curly hair.
I love you so much.
I take one last look at my sleeping prince, then head down the hall toward Greta's room. Her door is shut. I lean in, pressing my ear slightly to the door. There is nothing but silence on the other side of her door. I move along, stopping next at Sophia's bedroom. I press my ear to her door. All is quiet.

I walk further down the hall to the last room on the right. Surprisingly, the door is half-open. I can hear light snores coming from inside the room Mel is in. I peek inside.

The room is aglow from the two wall nightlights. I wonder why he hadn't turned them off. Then scold myself for caring one way or the other as I inch the door open further.

I take in his muscular frame—six feet, seven inches of hard-body manliness, stretched out in the center of the bed on his back, bare-chested and delicious-looking. The goose-down comforter is rolled down at the foot of the bed, the top sheet, twisted around one muscled leg. A thick forearm is lifted over his face, covering his eyes. His free hand rests on his stomach.

I lick my lips.

My eyes blink. Blink again. Then narrow, zooming in on…
Mygod! Is that what I think it is?

It is! The imprint of his dick, a huge mouthwatering lump,
wrapped, restricted, confined, beneath a pair of burgundy boxer briefs.

The sight of it almost snatches my breath away. My clit twitches as I lose myself in the mental image of stalking over to him, yanking his underwear down over his hips and his colossal cock springing out and smacking me in the forehead.

Mygod! I just want to reach out and touch it.

I bite down on my lower lip to stifle a moan.

My heart stops for a split-second as he shifts in his sleep. Then disappointment sweeps over me as his hand languidly rests over the thick lump in his underwear, blocking my view, robbing me of the rest of the show. He presses the heel of his hand into his dick, then rubs the length of it, before finally lingering at the head. He squeezes.

My right hand slips into the opening of my robe. I lightly pinch my left nipple.

Shamelessly, I stand in the doorway and watch. Wait. Wonder. I know I should walk away and tiptoe on back down the other end of the hall to my room. But I can't. I won't. No, no…can turn away. But I don't want to.

Not yet.

Bitch, you are really out of fucking control, standing here watching this man in his sleep, prying into his personal space like some horny, cock-hungry stalker.

Well, shit! I am horny. I am cock-hungry. And I am stalking his cock!

Pasha, stop this shit, girl! Take your ass back to bed!

The rational side of me wins. I decide it's best to slip back into the comforts of my own room, behind a locked door, then fuck myself to sleep. But as I start to back away from the door, MeI's
body shifts again. And he does the unthinkable.

He reaches into the opening of his boxers, pulls out his enormous dick. I have had more dicks in my hands and mouth than I can keep count, but there's one thing I can guesstimate—and be almost ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-percent certain of—and that is, the size of a dick. And Mel's long, juicy, Monster cock is at
least
…thirteen inches long. The biggest, the thickest, I've ever encountered.

Mmmm, I want some of that.

I stay rooted in place. My hands caressing my breasts as he strokes it, alternating from slow deep strokes to fast fist-pumping hand strokes; his long dick gliding in and out of his hand; its large plum-sized head, popping in and out.

I pull in my bottom lip. Imagine my tongue flicking over the head of his dick, catching the clear, stringy fluid as it oozes from his piss slit.

I hold my breath. Strain to hear the low smacking sound of him masturbating as his wide, thick hand rapidly slides up and down his shaft. “Get on your knees, baby,” I think I hear him whisper. “Crawl ya sexy ass over to me,
bitch
, and come suck this dick…”

My right hand dips between my thighs. In my head, Mel's dick enters me, then pounds into my pussy, into my wetness. And I arch into the sensation. My pussy quivering and quaking with every stretch-aching thrust.

Oh, yes, fuck me…

But I know that isn't what he wants. Pussy. No, no, he wants this neck—my other pussy. He wants what all the others want, what they crave, what they've been willing to cheat and lie for—and possibly kill for. He wants wet, sloppy, throat-gurgling, lip-smacking head. He wants his dick lodged deep down into my throat. Mel
wants to crush my windpipes fucking into my neck.

That's what he wants.

In my head, I hear Mel moaning low in the back of his throat. “Yeah, baby, open ya mouth and take this big-ass horse dick,” His strokes quicken. “You think you can handle all of this big, thick dick?”

My wet mouth opens. My soft lips wrap around the head of his dick. I suck. Then use both hands and stroke his shaft, teasing him with my tongue, while cupping his drool-slick balls. Mel spreads his legs slightly. I imagine his big balls hanging perfectly low, touching the sheets beneath him, hiding the crack of his ass.

Yes…

I grind onto my hand, my fingers sinking deeper until my fingertips find it. My spot. Swollen. Sensitive. Full. I rhythmically move my fingers inward, pressing against its spongy curve. My body shudders. Ecstasy ripples through every inch of my flesh.

I bite down on my tongue to keep from screaming out as the image of Mel lifting me up over him, then slowly guiding me down onto his humongous cock—the monstrous head stretching open the mouth of my pussy, then inch by-slow, sweet, torturous inch, widening the passage, splaying my pussy lips beyond my imagination—becomes vividly real in my head.