Authors: Silhouettes
Street Soldier 2 (15 page)
“Stoooop,” she said, pushing me back. “I don't want to come yet.”
Poetry got down from my desk and when she turned around, I stood behind her. I pressed myself against her, then beat my dick against her ass to keep it hard. She leaned over my desk, spreading her legs even wider. My muscle slipped back into her wetness, and as I held her tiny waist from behind, I tore it up. The loud slaps against her ass sounded off in the room and my dick was one happy motherfucka. Poetry was working her hips and ass well, throwing it back and keeping it at a rhythm that had me high.
“Ssssss, shit!” I yelled. She was fucking me well. I had to stop for a second to regroup, as the hot lava oozing from her pussy was no joke. I pulled out of her and squatted to fill my belly with her cream. And by the time I was finished, her body lay straight on my desk like a flying airplane. She was tense all over and screamed as I licked along her furrows and tried to swallow her clit.
“Oh, my, daaaamn, Prince! Stop, baby, ooooo, stoooop!”
My tongue was deep within her. It traveled from one hole to the other, and as Poetry reached her climax, she was spent. She could barely stand up. I secured her in my arms, then moved over to my chair. She straddled my lap, resting her arms on my shoulders.
“I surely didn't want our first time together to be in a place like this. I know those people out there can hear us and you should be ashamed of yourself for doing that to me,” she said.
“We can always turn the lights back on and call it a wrap. But I've been holdin' this nut, and when I bust it, yo' ass is gon' be somewhere in la la land.”
Poetry was determined to
bring
out the best in me. She lifted herself, then carefully eased down on my dick. At first, she rode me slow, then she arched her back and sped up the pace. My hands touched her slimming curves from her back, to her perfect waist, then to her smooth ass. I lifted it and helped her ride me to the rhythm of my satisfaction. She was so good at what she was doing, and when she turned around to ride me backward, my head dropped back in the chair. I dropped my arms by my side and my toes tightened and curled.
bring
out the best in me. She lifted herself, then carefully eased down on my dick. At first, she rode me slow, then she arched her back and sped up the pace. My hands touched her slimming curves from her back, to her perfect waist, then to her smooth ass. I lifted it and helped her ride me to the rhythm of my satisfaction. She was so good at what she was doing, and when she turned around to ride me backward, my head dropped back in the chair. I dropped my arms by my side and my toes tightened and curled.
“Ride that motherfucka, ma,” I said, moving fast with her, about to break the squeaking chair. She proceeded to go faster and that's when my body went limp, feeling like every ounce of semen in me rushed out. I grabbed Poetry from behind, squeezing her tightly in my arms. She kept teasing me, and kept on moving.
“Don't do that shit,” I said. My dick was so sensitive from the beating it had taken, but it was a beating that caused for no retaliation. Well, in a good way, of course.
Poetry got up and flipped on the lights. She spotted her dress on the floor and pulled it over her head. I put on my shorts, and as we were now able to look each other in the eyes, all we could do was smile.
“I need a shower,” she said. “Either I can go home or go upstairs to your apartment.”
“I need a shower too, so we can shower together. That's if you want to.”
Poetry shrugged and opened the door. “Why not?” she said and walked out. I followed and every single eye in the place was on us. More people had come in, and Poetry looked embarrassed as hell. I wasn't at all, and as I made my way upstairs, she messed around in the laundromat, pretending as if she had work to do. Shortly thereafter, she knocked on my door and joined me in the shower. I felt so at ease with her, and at this point, I regretted not letting her into my life sooner.
Chapter Eleven
Eyes Wide Open ...
Poetry and me had been hanging tight. I'd gotten a chance to meet her grandmother, and had introduced her to Nate. He seemed to really like her, and had nothing but good things to say about her when she wasn't in our presence. It made me feel as if I'd made the right choice this time around, and to be honest, I kind of dug having a girlfriend. Hadn't had one I could call my own for a very long time, and even though Nadine and me had gotten pretty cool, I always saw her as just my baby's mama.
Other than that, I wished like hell that Mama could meet Poetry. I knew she'd have some gripes about her, but eventually, like me, Mama would see all of the good things about her that I liked so much. I still hadn't given up on my search for her, and almost every single day I did drive-bys to see if G or any of his partners had been hanging around. It was as if he had fallen off the earth, and when I talked to Raylo, he said the same thing. I guess he'd gotten to a point where he'd given up, because his phone calls to let me know what was going on were limited. We barely talked to each other these days, but when I stopped by Mama's house, sometimes he was there, many times he wasn't.
Meanwhile, Poetry was doing her best to keep my mind off my troubles. I spilled my guts to her, telling her about everything that had happened with Romeo getting caught up, on down to me killing my father. Told her about Nadine being shot up, and about the fools I had to do away with who were responsible. She understood me better than anyone, and nothing that I said to her made her fearful or leery about being with me. I guess she understood so well because Poetry had been through some shit too. Her mother had her on the stroll with her at twelve years old. She was raped and got pregnant by the man who raped her. She had an abortion, but was raped again by her uncle who abused her as well. She wound up stabbing him one day, and was put in juvenile for a while. All she did in there was fight, and once she was let go, she went back to live with her grandmother. After finding out that her son raped Poetry, her grandmother made him leave, and ever since then, it had been about the two of them, taking care of each other.
That was until Anthony came on the scene. All they did was fight each other, and Poetry told me about the many black eyes he'd given her. She stressed how possessive he was, but when all was said and done, she still loved him. He was the one to call it quits, and the reason that he was back was because his marriage had failed and he wanted Poetry back. I took her word that she wanted nothing to do with him, and after all that she'd been through with him, I assumed he was history.
Nate gave me some tickets to a Rams football game, so I invited my girl to go with me. There weren't too many places I'd go without her, as we had gotten very close over the last month. So close that I completely ignored Jenay when I saw her, and even though Francine was already history, I ignored her too. It was all about Poetry and I had it really bad for her.
Since it was chilly outside, we wore jackets and jeans to stay warm. I drove to the Edward Jones Dome to see the game, and as usual, Poetry complained about my driving.
“One day, you gon' hurt somebody driving this car as fast as you do. I'm surprised that you haven't gotten any tickets. Don't you worry about the police pulling you over?”
“Nope, because I'm good at watchin' my surroundings. I can spot a police car a mile away. I know which areas are hot, and which ones are not. And if I do get pulled over, I'll man up and pay my ticket. No problem there.”
“Well, you won't have to man up if you slow down. I can't believe you got all this precious cargo over here, and you won't even do what's necessary to protect me.”
“I'll always protect you. You don't have to worry about that at all.”
Poetry noticed that I had gotten quiet after my comment to her. She knew I was worried about something happening to her, especially since we'd been spending so much time together. “Get that out your head, Prince. I know you got me and I know your mama is still on your mind. But what you gon' do, baby? You still go to her house, and I know it hurts you like hell to go there. You can't let it sit like that, can you? What you plan on doing with her house, especially if she never comes back?”
I shrugged. “I don't know. I have been thinkin' about what to do with her house, and that fool Raylo ain't barely there anymore. It's just sittin' and I don't want nobody to break in and start stealin' shit. Maybe I'll put some of her things in storage.”
Poetry reached over and rubbed the back of my head. “I'll help you get some of her things together. Whenever you're ready, let me know.”
I nodded, and just to mess with Poetry, I sped off the highway and into the parking garage to park my car. She fussed, but I didn't care. It gave me an opportunity to kiss and make up with her, and I did so on the elevator as it went down.
“Stop poutin' and give me some of those sexy lips,” I teased. She puckered, but bit my lip when I leaned in. I tried to pull away, but she held on to my lips with her teeth. “Ooouch! That shit hurt, ma!” I felt my lip for blood, and this time, I was pouting. She laughed, then kissed me the right way.
“Awww, Boo, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you later and I promise to put in overtime.”
“I hope so,” I said, getting off the elevator. “You've been gettin' yours lately and leavin' my ass hangin'. You need to put in double overtime or maybe triple.”
Poetry stopped and put her hand on her hip. “Don't even go there, Prince. If my calculations are correct, you busted three nuts the last time we were together.”
“Three times! Stop yo' lyin', Poetry. I only came once and that was yo' ass on top of that washing machine, actin' a fool. I told you I was gon' make you eat your words about calling my dick pint sized.”
“I did not call your dick pint sized. I just said it was little to hurt your feelings. I know better, now, and being on top of that washing machine was fun, wasn't it? Especially when it started spinning. You probably thought it was me going overboard but the machine did most of the work.”
“Bullshit,” I said, laughing. “It may have helped you move in circles, but the work needs to be credited to me. I made you come, not the washing machine.”
This time, Poetry laughed. “Okay. I'll give credit where credit is due, but if I have to start putting in more overtime, you gon' have to pay me. Shoot!”
I got behind Poetry and wrapped my arms around her. I kissed her cheek and licked inside of her ear. “You know you can have anything you want. You're too damn good to me and I promise to always be good to you too.”
Poetry turned around to give me a long, wet kiss. I was trying my best not to fall for her, but it was too late. I was prepared to do anything in the world for her, but I wasn't sure that she knew how I felt. For whatever reason, I kept my feelings to myself. I wanted to be sure, because some things were too good to be true.
We walked down the street holding hands, but before we got to the Dome, I saw a bunch of old-school cars lined up that caught my attention. Several older men were driving the cars, and they were surrounded by a gang of people admiring them. I couldn't help but admire the cars too, but when I saw Raylo behind the wheel of Ernie's 1965 Lincoln, I was surprised. I knew he hadn't gone back to get his car that night, and I wondered how in the hell he'd gotten it. I started to go over to him and ask, but something told me not to. Instead, I slowed my pace, stopping Poetry as we neared the door.
“Say, if you don't mind, I need to go check out something real quick. We may not make it to the game and I hope you ain't mad at me.”
“I'm not a big football fan, but what do you need to do?”
I gave Poetry my keys and pointed to the corner. “Do me a favor and go get my car. I'ma be right there on that corner, so pick me up right there.”
She put her hand on her hip and sighed. “Prince, what are you up to?”
“I'll tell you in a minute. Just go do what I asked you to. Please.”
Poetry took my keys and headed to the parking garage. I ran across the street, getting a closer look at all of the other men and Raylo in their cars. It wasn't the men who actually caught my attention, but more so the women. I remembered the white chick who was at G's place that day, Peaches. She was in the car with another one of the men, and I found that to be quite odd. Then, another thing came to mind. G mentioned what we had done to Ernie. How in the hell did he know, if it was just me and Raylo there doing our thing? There was a possibility that we'd been followed, but at that moment, something about the whole thing didn't feel right to me. As I continued to look on, I saw Poetry coming with my car. She pulled up to the curb and I got inside.
“Let's get out of here,” I said. She drove off, and kept looking suspiciously at me.
“So, are you going to tell me what's going on?” she asked.
“Baby, I think I've been set the fuck up. Big ... big time.”
“Set up by who?”
“By Raylo. I think he's the one who did somethin' to my mother and had me runnin' around like crazy tryin' to find her.”
“Didn't you say they'd been together for years? You said he loved her. Why would he set you up? What could he possibly have to gain?”
“Money. That nigga asked me for some money right before Mama disappeared. I wouldn't give it to him, and the next thing I know, she's missin'. But what I don't understand is why he would want me to kill his friend to get some money when he stood to gain money from G, if they were in this together all along?”
Poetry slammed on the brakes and pulled the car over. “Wait. You just confused the hell out of me. Who is G and who were you supposed to kill?”
I hadn't gotten into details with Poetry about what I'd done to Ernie, or about my issues with G. I explained to Poetry that I suspected Raylo saw an opportunity to kill Ernie and get some of his money and cars because he'd been hating, not because he was trying to help me. Either way, Poetry seemed mad. “I can't believe y'all did that man like that. That was cold, Prince, and you shouldn't have ever gone to his house. I've never met Raylo, but please keep me away from his ass. He seems too vicious for me, and I hope to God you are done with all of this mess. Your eyes say you're not, Prince, and I'ma be so mad at you if you ever think about going after those fools. They will kill you and it's best that you leave well enough alone.”
“So, I'm just supposed to sit back and be made a fool of? Is that what you're sayin'? What about my Mama? What if Raylo was the one who did somethin' to her?”
“Call the police, Prince. Let them deal with it. This may be too much for you to handle and I don't want you to keep runnin' around here killin' people because they pissed you off.”
“Pissed me off!” I shouted and cocked my head back. “I don't kill people for pissin' me off, and if that was the case, you'd be dead. I deal with those who fuck with me to the point where it affects me and those around me. I'm not some trigger-happy nigga tryin' to get a reputation or a badge for doin' the unthinkable. You need to come better than that and check yourself for bein' incorrect.”
“No, you need to calm yourself down and listen to what I'm trying to tell you. I'm not saying that you shouldn't be upset if someone did something to your mother. What I'm saying is you are not above the law. Stop putting the law into your own hands, and put it into the hands of those who it belongs with. If you wind up dead or in jail, how you gon' protect the ones you say you care about? I know you wouldn't be able to do a damn thing for me in jail, and all I'm doing is trying to talk some sense into you before it's too late.”
“We need to squash this conversation right now. All I'm gon' say to you is if I find out Raylo set me up, and my mama is dead, I'ma deal with him myself. I'll go to jail for makin' sure justice is served for her and that's just tellin' you straight like it is. Take it or leave it.”
Poetry sat silent for a while, tapping the steering wheel with her fingers and looking straight ahead. “And what about me, Prince? What am I supposed to do if you go to jail? No matter what, you still gotta be here for me, too, don't you? Or have I been fooling myself, thinking that I've found the man of my dreams? Don't you know that I've fallen in love with you? I don't want to lose you this soon. I think we got something special that can go a long, long way. Have I been wrong, Prince? Please tell me that I haven't been wrong about us. I'm not in this by myself, am I?”
I didn't respond, as I really didn't have time for no soap opera bullshit Poetry was spilling right now. No, she wasn't wrong about us, but it was hard to explain that I had to deal with this situation about my mother, no matter what. “No matter what I say to you, it's not gon' sit right with you. So I'ma cut this conversation short, so we can keep it movin' down the highway.”
Poetry didn't budge. “So, I guess I have been wrong about us. This was all about you getting some pussy. I can't be mad at you because it's what you stressed from the beginning. You don't give a damn about me, Prince, and if you did, you wouldn't sit there and say what you just did. Either way, it looks as if I'm going to be left without, so we may as well call it quits right now.”
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