Sex in the Hood Saga (28 page)

If this run-away train of thoughts went any faster, it would crash and burn with Duke in the furnace. That was what it felt like right now in HQ, as every motherfucker in the house came at him with a crisis. All while his twenty-first birthday party was rockin' Babylon like never before.

Sitting behind the desk, he wanted to wave a magic wand and make all the problems disappear. Make all these fifteen ma'fuckas in his office walk out, problem stamped SOLVED. Then he'd wave the wand again and make Milan and Knight appear from wherever they were hiding inside this fortress. Were they trying to double team The Duke?

He didn't want to believe that Knight was there with an overthrow scheme. With Beamer acting crazy with Milan, and dudes who was tight under Prince and Knight showing signs of trickery, he didn't trust anybody. Dudes who had more juice under his older brothers probably wanted Knight back in charge so they could rise from the lower spots where Duke had put them.

Now Duke had an APB out amongst his trusted Barriors. Any sign of trouble, the battle would be on. Brother or not, he shouldn't be trying to stage a coup during Duke's birthday party at the Babylon that he ruled.

But he had to take care of everything now, or else there wouldn't be a Babylon for The Duke to have a Duchess in.
I don't need all this shit happenin' right now, 'specially if Knight really out early.

Duke's heart banged in his chest. His whole body was shaking. It couldn't be a good sign if Knight were free and trying to creep back into Babylon. Ain't no beef or was there? Deep down, Duke already knew what would be going down tonight. His birthday, his party, his girl, his people, and his big brother trying to usurp the power.

One of the Hulk-ass bodyguards who was watching Milan said, “It don't make no sense, see what I'm sayin', dat she could jus' be gone. We was like, dang, how she get out?” Scheme shined in this stupid-ass ma'fucka's eyes.

Duke rose from his golden throne. He stepped from behind the big glass desk. His black cowboy boots pounded the white marble as he approached Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

“I told both you ma'fuckas. Do not let Milan suck yo' dick. Weak-ass punks.” He pointed to the door. “Go find her! Inside, outside, just find the bitch an' bring her to me.”

“Yes, Massa Duke,” they said then ran out.

No way could she hide for long in this high-tech temple and not show up on the security cameras.

Next, a Barrior lieutenant, wearing brown from head to toe, approached. “We checked all the security camera video. Nothing shows that Milan has left the building, but we don't have any video so far of where she is. But we did catch this.”

The Barrior held up a wireless video monitor the size of a shoebox. It showed two men, one dark and bald, the other in a black skullcap, holding flashlights.

“It's dark,” the Barrior said, “but that looks like Big Moe and Knight down in the tunnels. You recall the hidden security cameras we put in last year. Knight wouldn't know.”

“Knight know e'rythang.”
And I'm supposed to know more.

A lot of punks were about to get jacked for letting this happen. Duke's mind ticked down a list of all the locked-up motherfuckers on his payroll who were about to get cut off.

Nobody took his money without providing a service in return. Even if it was about blood. Family blood.

The Barrior said, “You know this main tunnel leads to the garage, and we have video of Knight up to the door. But he vanishes after that. Nothing.”

Duke asked, “You seen him anyplace else? The garage, the ninth floor apartments, the penthouse?”

“No, Massa Duke.”

“No my ass! E'ry hall, e'ry staircase, e'ry elevator got a camera!” Duke shouted. His enraged voice echoed through the marble-floored office. He felt like steam was shooting from his ears. A high pitched panic was distorting his voice so tough, it sounded like train wheels screeching against a metal track.

“What the fuck?” Duke shouted. “How you gon' miss a six foot ma'fucka wit' a big, black bald head an' shoulders as wide as fuckin' Mr. Universe?”

Everybody in the office froze, turned pale, and made their eyes big.

“Go find Knight Johnson if it kill e'ry one o' y'all ma'fuckas!”

The doors at the front of the office opened. Beamer ran in, all of his redbone braids loose and bouncing over the shoulders of his white Detroit Lions jersey. He pulled up his sagging jeans.

“Massa Duke, two things,” he said, out of breath. “First, Barriors got these two black dudes. FBI tryin' to crash yo' party.”

“Hell naw.”

“They got bogus VIP passes from the band. No warrant, no ID, but they fed, fo' sho'.”

Duke's heart pounded so hard, it sounded like flames were hissing inside his ears. “Tell the lawyer to stop havin' his dick sucked up in the VIP suite. Send him down to talk to the young men. Tell 'em we'll prosecute they asses for trespassing if they don't get the fuck up outta my buildin' in a Motor City minute.”

Beamer nodded. At least his thinking cap was on snug too.

“What's the second thing?” Duke asked.

“A TV crew,” Beamer said. “Downstairs. Talkin' about somebody in the hood said Victoria Winston livin' here. No joke.”

“Hell naw. That shit got Milan name all over it.” Milan would kill Duchess with her bare hands if she had the chance.
Probably kill me too.
Duke glanced at the phone on his belt that he told Duchess to dial if she needed anything. “Hold up.” He dialed. It rang. And rang. And rang. He tried again.

“Hello?” Attitude shot through the phone.

“Baby girl, just checkin' on ya.”

“I'm taking a shower.”

“Pick up quicker when I call.”

“And call you Massa Duke?” The sass in her voice made him almost smile, but he didn't because all these leery-eyed motherfuckers were watching him, waiting for directions to solve their respective bullshit.

“Holla.” Duke hung up then turned to Beamer. “Where the media at now?”

“It's a black chick reporter an' a camera dude.” Beamer talked fast. “The Barriors caught 'em tryin' to sneak in wit' all the niggas goin' to the party. So now the Channel Six jokers is on the sidewalk out front.”

Duke paced the white marble floor. “Where they gon' be videotapin'? All the limos an' cars? They can hear the music. An' they gon' be sniffin' around. Fuck!”
If Knight were in the house and he saw media here, he'd have a fit!

“Don't no neighbors complain about the traffic an' loud noise, 'cause they know Barriors be patrollin' the streets, the schools, the stores, makin' e'rybody feel safe. So, no matter what else go on, don't nobody snitch on Babylon.”

“That's a lie,” Duke said. “If you talkin' to Milan, which I know you ain't, tell the bitch that if she called the media on my ass, then she will be dog meat for Pound to come collect for the midnight feedin'.”

Beamer's eyes got as big as those chocolate truffles he was always eating.

“But first,” Duke said, “call Pound Dog cousin, Mike, the spokesman. Tell him to talk to the media, say Miss Green got a postcard from Victoria in Barbados.”

Beamer scrunched his face. “They talkin' about customs ain't got no record of her leavin' Miami.”

“Then Mike gon' tell 'em she got a lotta connections wit' folk in Florida who got yachts, wit' lots a places to hide a pretty young girl.”

Knight. Milan. The feds. The media.

Duchess stared into space as the hot water beat down on her bare back. It was so relaxing after a week of intensive transformation and almost constant sex. She was ready to sleep another two days straight. Her mind, body and spirit were aching with fatigue, but Celeste was roarin' to go.

His attitude did not make her want to celebrate his birthday party tonight. Was he out getting so much birthday booty and blow jobs from all his females that he didn't have the time or energy for Duchess?

“That is totally unacceptable,” she snapped into the steam.

Duchess turned off the water. She hadn't even washed or shampooed her wet hair. She was too tired.

I'm gonna get in bed, make myself cum, and take a nap until Duke gets back to dress for the party.
Their matching black leather jeans and cream tops were all ready.
I have to cum by myself for the first time since Sunday at the restaurant.
“Duke,” she said. The sight of him and the surprise of his return made her heart pound with excitement. And it made her pussy hot and wet, instantly. “He is so beautiful,” she whispered.

Through the gold sheer around the bed, he reminded her of an enormous Greek god, lying so that the luscious back of his bald head and all the rippling muscles down his back were facing her. The gold blanket was folded under his huge, muscular right arm and hand, which rested on the bulge that was his right leg, bent slightly at the knee on top of his other leg.

Duchess stuck her fingertips between the gold panels. The back of her hand parted the wispy fabric. She put one knee on the bed.

In the dim light, he looked darker. And bigger. He must've had a mega workout down in the gym today. She stared in awe at the little indentions of muscle around his deltoids, his triceps, and biceps and forearms, and those big, beautiful hands. The valley of muscle up his spine was deep and marked by muscle around the vertebrae. His back muscles rose up in graceful curves that made her mouth water. Ripples of strength marked his shoulder blades.

He was nothing short of a masterpiece. His smooth head was so big and round and shiny, flanked by perfect ears; he must've taken his earrings out. And that thick neck, so smooth.
I never noticed that scar before
. She felt a scar toward the back of his neck. As many times as she'd sucked on Duke's neck and touched him there and slept holding onto him from the back, why hadn't she noticed that?

She smiled because she was about to get some more right now. Celeste was screaming for all that Timbo had to offer, and more.

Duchess walked quietly to the other side of the bed. She slipped through the gold panels. How could a man be so breathtaking? His face looked like a statue of a black god.

He must have spent time in the sun today, because he looked darker and luscious. Duchess pressed her lips to his forehead, loving the sensation of his smooth, hot skin under the fleshy spread of her lips. He showed no reaction except slow and steady breathing, hard breathing, like he was in a deep sleep.

Slowly, Duchess slid head first under the gold blankets. It was dark, and that intoxicating aroma of man was strong as hell.

She inhaled deeply, holding it in. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned.

Victoria pressed forward in the darkness with her mouth open until her lips landed at the head of his dick. She kissed it, loving it for the pleasure she knew she was about to take from it. She wrapped her lips around it. He didn't move. She opened wide, sucked the whole thing in until it banged the back of her throat.

He flinched a little, let out a slow groan.

This sensation of a hot marble dicksicle with that delicious aroma made her pussy drip. Her nipples were rock-hard, rubbing against the tops of his legs.
I am so wet right now.
The tops of Duchess' thighs felt steamy and sticky. All she had to do was push his leg with her left hand.

He'd roll onto his back, she could climb on, and in a flash, he rose. He was an enormous shadow of man, quick as lightning, with the grace and stealth of Duke's best panther walk. Giant hands damped her waist. Lifting her up, he rolled onto his back. His arms raised her like they were the front scooping part of a bulldozer, effortlessly, higher and higher.

She gazed down, half-smirkng at the enchanted genie eyes staring back up at her with the hungriest, sexiest, most powerful look she had ever seen in Duke's eyes. Suddenly his eyes radiated a new maturity, a new intelligence.

Maybe he really was working today and accomplished something important.

He was still staring up at her like she was the most precious creature on the planet that he would always love and cherish. He held her up for a long time, as if examining her for the first time.

“Tinkerbell in the hood!” She giggled, shaking her head so that the ends of her hair tickled his right nipple. It pointed up hard at her. She stared into his eyes. Her voice got deep and sultry. “An' I'm gonna sprinkle my pixie dust, my pussy dust, all . . . ova . . . you!”

Like a laser-quick robotic arm on a machine that attached parts, he pulled her forward.

“I'm flying,” she cooed.

He held her in that soaring bird position, with her hips an arm's length above his face. Those strong arms yanked her down. She spread her legs, which made a “V” extending out from his head. Her heels landed softly on the fluffy gold pillows.

And he breathed fire air onto her pussy.

“Oooohhh,” she moaned.

He inhaled loudly, even louder than she breathed him under the blankets. The tip of his tongue made an “X” across her pussy.

“Yay-yaaaahhh,” she moaned as he swirled his tongue around her clit.

“Mine,” he groaned in a way that was deep and potent.

The depth of passion and protection in his voice felt so strong and overwhelming, it sparked tears in her eyes. He held her up so that they were face to face, just inches apart. She squeezed the tears to see him more clearly.

Whoosh!

His arms lowered her at turbo-speed.

Duchess screamed. She shivered violently.

Nipples pinching. Skin quivering. Muscles trembling. And her pussy was one big convulsion. Celeste was pulsating at triple speed, as if her insides were spastic ripples of wet velvet, erotic muscle spasms set off by superhuman sex.

This is the best
.

She wanted to scream that she'd bow at his feet forever if he gave her this. What was it? It was not normal. Definitely not just sex. Or making love. This was some abnormal, freaky-ass, supernatural love. Maybe all that Ancient Egyptian stuff they had around here was giving them extra sex powers.

Duchess froze. She opened her eyes without focusing.

This the power. My power. My mix-race woman power.

When blended with true Mandingo warrior sex-power of equal magnitude, it created cataclysmic forces that could move the world.

“With talent comes great responsibility to use it in a way that helps people,” Daddy used to say.

“But how?” Victoria used to ask all the time. “What's my talent and what should I do with it?”

“When you find your calling,” he said, “you'll just know.”

Now, Duchess smiled.