I followed Gerard into the mansion that was packed with hoes and some other celebrity niggas from different industries that I recognized. Prince, of course, stood out.
We made eye contact, and he looked like he’d shit on himself. I guess our one encounter at Hong Kong still had his punk ass shook. I didn’t like his ass based off that one interaction, because he pissed me off trying to press me for complimenting Camarih. Then again, he was a bitch for letting me continue to after I told his ass to shut the fuck up. Lose-lose situation for him.
“You must be new.” A female pulled me from my thoughts of bitchboy. She was short as fuck, but then again, it seemed all females were when standing next to me.
She was cool looking, but like the rest of these hoes in here, she appeared to be ran through. Her dress was short as hell, and I could see the bottom of her pussy. I loved hoes, but I loved the hood rat ones, not this coked out shit.
“Nah.” I slipped around her.
“Wait, where you going?” She grabbed my arm tightly.
“I don’t know if that’s ya pussy or breath barking like that, but one of them muthafuckas needs some Doublemint.”
She ain’t say shit else, so I continued to the door, and when I stepped outside, I saw Prince.
“Aye, you think I can—”
“Nah you can’t.” I bumped the fuck out of his shoulder as I passed him, making him almost spin around.
I didn’t know why I wanted his bitch or what I was gon’ do with her ass when I got her other than fuck, but I had to have her on my team.
2
Camarih
In the daytime, I worked as a skincare specialist at this spa in Hollywood named Angel Skin, and on weekends, at nights, I worked as a dancer in Club Dose about fifteen minutes from there.
I wasn’t the normal stripper, hell no. All I did was dress in skimpy bikinis and move sensually behind a glass where a group of men ogled me until their time slot was up. I didn’t mind it at all because they couldn’t touch me, and I made a nice amount of money just to simply move my body sexually while still clothed. And the club I worked at always had some good slow jams in the back area where I worked.
I’d been saving money from both jobs so that I could move out, but it was hard in Los Angeles. Even the houses in the hood cost an arm and a leg. And if I wanted an apartment, it would have to be in a dangerous neighborhood, like where I was living now, or too damn expensive.
I loved my city, but it was discouraging at some points. I wished I could just get my skincare line to the point where it would be my main income source. Making a living doing what you loved had always been a goal of mine.
I was finally finished with my last facial, so after sitting down for a second to rest my feet, I gathered my things to leave. I loved my job at Angel Skin, but the pay was pennies, and I didn’t exactly approve of all the chemicals in their products. I hated lying to customers and saying I used their stuff when really, I only used my line. I always got compliments on my skin, even in the days when I was a teenager and most had breakouts.
I’d always been into skin, so it was only right I dropped my own line.
“Oh shit!” I jumped back when I saw a man appear from behind my car. It was Prince. “You need to leave, stalker.”
“Baby, come on—”
“No. I have nothing to say to you.” I unlocked my car and tossed my things inside.
Before Prince could say another word, I slid in, slammed my door, and attempted to crank my vehicle. It wouldn’t start, and this was the worst time for it not to. When I heard a knock on my window, I looked to see Prince still standing there with his hands in prayer mode.
Getting out of the car, I leaned against it, raising my brow so he could say whatever the fuck he’d been harassing me to listen to.
“Ari, your friend is lying, plain and simple.”
“Jeoff told me.”
“Well he’s lying. I ain’t never fucked her, and if she’s pregnant, the baby ain’t mine. I swear to you.”
“You are such a fucking liar.” I shook my head, tearing up. I wasn’t crying because I missed him. I was crying because I was so tired of everyone in my life treating me like I meant nothing to them. The only exception was Driz, and God snatched him away from me. “Keep your hands off me.” I slapped Prince’s hand when he tried to wipe my tears.
“Camarih, you have no proof of the shit that nigga told you. So just because he swears I fucked her and got her pregnant, I did? Isis hates me. Why would she sleep with me?”
“Why didn’t she deny it?”
“Hell if I know! But what I do know is I love you, and nothing has happened between Isis and me. I swear on my mom’s grave.”
I stared up into Prince’s eyes, wondering if he was being honest. His mom meant a lot to him, or so he claimed, and he never put anything on her unless he was telling the truth. So this couldn’t be any different.
“I need to think.” I dropped my head, keeping my arms folded.
“Fair enough.” After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “Can you accompany me tonight? I got a show, and I would love for you to be there. You know you’re my main support system, Camarih.”
“Phillip, I don’t know.”
“Please, baby. You know I don’t have anyone, except you, in my corner. I even got you a new dress and some other shit.”
“So you knew I would forgive you?” I furrowed my brows.
“Nah, but I got it in case.”
Taking a deep breath, I nodded.
Prince stayed with me while I called a tow truck, and they agreed to drop it off at the shop near my home in South Central. Prince wanted to pay for it, and as stressed out as I was, I allowed him to.
We went to his place in Beverly Hills, where he presented me with three dresses to pick from. I chose the short black one from YSL, and the matching black stiletto sandals.
After a shower, I got dressed, putting on a light coating of makeup, lipstick, earrings, and some of the new jewelry Prince got me. I let my golden, curly hair hang down my back.
Prince told me to meet him in the foyer, so I did.
“Good choices.” I smirked.
I still wasn’t sure about being back together, but I had to admit, this was a nice break from my usual daily life. These were the good days Prince and I had, when he wasn’t insulting me, stressing me out, or physically fighting me.
“Definitely.” He took my hand. “Can I have a kiss?”
“We have to see how the night goes.”
“Aight.”
We left the house and hopped into his Porsche before heading out. We ended up in West Hollywood, where the club was, and Prince parked valet. The place was packed, and everyone was dancing to “Wobble Up” by Chris Brown.
Like always, Prince and I went to the VIP section squared away for him.
“Boss, you know my beautiful girlfriend, Camarih.” Prince announced me to his label owner, Stallion. He was a big guy, hence his nickname. I’d met him before, and he was always creepy.
“I do know her. It’s a pleasure.” He reached for my hand and kissed the back of it, before he and Prince made eye contact.
“Baby, make yourself comfortable. I gotta get ready for the show.” Prince kissed my temple.
I sat down on the velvet couch as he and Stallion walked off, talking. There were two other girls, but they were occupied by Prince’s two friends Deon and Frankie. Only about half an hour had passed before Prince was up on the stage, making the venue go crazy.
Feeling slightly tipsy, I stood up with my glass in the air to groove to his music some, before I felt a pair of hands rub down the front of my body from behind.
“Excuse—” My sentence got cut off when I was yanked back into Stallion’s embrace.
“It’s cool. Prince ain’t tripping.” He grinned down at me, licking his lips.
“I doubt that, and you need to let me go!” I hollered, trying to break free from his big ass. He only laughed, running his large
hand down my back and squeezing my ass.
“Arrggghh!” He roared almost over Prince’s performance once I kicked him in the nuts and ran off.
Of course, his crazy ass chased me down the stairs, through the crowd, and out the back door. I realized I was in a parking lot I didn’t recognize, making my heartbeat speed up.
Looking over my shoulder at Stallion chasing me like a madman, I ran as fast as I could in these high ass heels until I hit a brick wall. However, the wall had arms, and hands too, which gripped my shoulders. Looking up, I saw it was Tony Wacko, who swiftly put me behind him when he spotted Stallion over my head.
“Aye, she good, nigga. Go back inside the club ’fore we have a problem,” Tony expressed calmly as I hid behind his large stature. He smelled so good, and I used this as an opportunity to hug his body from behind. The muscles in his back felt perfect against my face.
“Nigga, I suggest you move out my got damn way or—”
“Or what, nigga?” Tony moved closer to Stallion, getting right in his face. “I want you to, muthafucka. I been itching to murk a nigga for weeks.” Tony was grinning sexily yet evilly at Stallion when I peeked around to look up at the side of his face. Since Stallion hadn’t said a mumbling word, Tony added, “Now take yo’ big ass back up inside that club like I just told yo’ bitch ass to.”
All Stallion did was shake his head with his lips pulled together tightly, before pointing at Tony as to say he was gon’ get him later.
“Cool.” He uttered before rushing back to the club.
“Get the fuck off me.” Tony spat, so I let him go. “Hugging me like I’m yo’ nigga or some shit.”
“Whatever. Thanks.” I started walking off, but he grabbed my hand. “What?” I looked back, lip turned up.
“You owe me some head for saving you.” He started laughing when I tried to yank away. “Aight, aight, I’m fucking with you. Bring yo’ ass here.” He gritted his perfect teeth as he pulled me right into his broad chest. I was burning up now, being this close to him while he looked me in the eyes. Before I knew it, he was kissing me, deeply yet nastily like last time.
“Stop. I don’t like you.” I turned my face, so he started sucking on my neck while massaging my ass with his big hands.
“Why?” He finally stopped. He bit down on his lip as he waited for me to answer, and it just made no sense how fine he was. That caramel skin, hooded brown eyes, full lips, the facial hair, his height, and that kinky, curly hair on top of his head. I even loved the tattoos covering his arms, hands, and neck.
“Because you’re rude as hell.”
He just kissed me again, then let me go, but grabbed my hand to lead me off to his vehicle.
“You hungry?” he inquired once I was in his car.
“I guess.”
“Keep up with the attitude, Buttascotch.”
“Buttascotch? And if I do, what the fuck are you gonna do about it?” I snapped.
“I ain’t gon’ give you this dick.”
“Nigga, please.” I chuckled, caught off guard by his response.
“Give me a kiss.” He sped down the street.
“Oh my gosh! Pay attention to the road!” I shouted, pointing so he would do what I asked.
“Do what the fuck I said, and I will.”
Quickly, I kissed his lips. Quiet as kept, I loved kissing him. His lips were pillow soft, despite his hard exterior.
“Okay, Tony!” I just knew we were gonna hit a light pole.
“One more.”
I complied, and finally, he focused on the street, laughing with his psycho ass.
He turned his music up for the rest of the ride, until we ended up back in South Central where we lived. He’d chosen to go to Woody’s Bar-B-Q, the best around. Once we got our food, Tony drove to some building on King Boulevard, and then we went inside.
“Is it okay that we’re here?” I quizzed as he led me down the dark hall.
“I own the muthafucka.”
“You do? Why?”
We entered one room that was nicely set up as a recording studio. I saw the words Make A Killing on the side of the wood paneled wall. I guess that was his company, and it made sense as to why MAK was tatted above his eyebrow.
“To record my artists and rent some of the rooms out for extra cash.” He shut the door, dimming the light some but not too much so we could see our food.
We sat down on the couch and pulled our barbecue out onto the coffee table in front of it. It smelled so good.
“Your artists? What are you, like a manager or something?”
“Nah. I’m starting up a label. Well I have. I got all the paperwork and shit for the trademark; I just gotta get shit rolling on a bigger platform. I was making connections tonight at the club.”
“Oh.” I nodded. I assumed he was some nothing ass, crazy, hood nigga. “I think that’s dope.”
He nodded, about to reach for a rib, but I grabbed his hand to hold while I prayed.
“I ain’t never met no bitch that did some shit like that.” He let me know once we said ‘Amen’.
“I’m not a bitch, that’s why. And if you want to be my friend, you need to find a new word for me.”
Smirking as he licked the sauce off of his sexy mouth, he replied, “Buttascotch, you the only female I ain’t snatched the fuck up for talking that hot shit.”
I hated the nickname he’d given me, but him giving me a nickname at all made me feel all fuzzy inside. I knew niggas like him only gave out bitch, hoe, bop, skeezer, or thot as nicknames.
“’Cause you know I will fuck you up.”
“Nah. I’d just rather fuck the shit out of you than fight you.” He spoke as he looked down at his food, picking up another rib. I took that time to admire his side profile, biting my lip. “What you do for money?” He looked down at my YSL shoes.
“Oh, I didn’t buy these; my ex did.”
“Oh, you one of them type hoe—females.” He smirked when I gave him a look.
“No. I make my own money. I work at a spa giving facials. Hopefully, one day, my skincare line will take off.” I wiped my mouth, thinking.
“It will. You got ambition, and you feisty as fuck. Plus, yo’ skin is beautiful. These dusty ass hoes gon’ want that look.”
I giggled, looking his way briefly as he polished off his last rib tip. I was stuffed, so I wrapped the rest of mine up and shoved it back into the bag for tomorrow. I was off and would curl up in front of the TV with it for lunch.
“Is that why you keep calling me Buttascotch?”
“You look just like the fucking candy.” When I started smiling, he added, “Stop gazing at a nigga like you in love or some shit.”
“I am not in love with you, nigga. Please.” I stared at him as he made a face. “Is all this stuff plugged up?”
“Yeah, just this morning. You wanna hear some music on it? The shit is nice and clear.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Song of my choice though.”
Sucking his teeth as he sat at the large but beautiful mixer, he opened up his laptop and went to YouTube, before nodding for me to search up the song I wanted. I typed it in then clicked “It’s Whatever” by Aaliyah, my favorite song, and he turned it up louder while shaking his head in annoyance. It sounded even better on this equipment.
I sang along, moving a little bit since I was standing. Tony turned his chair some to watch me, in his gangsta lean position that he loved. We both grinned because of how animated I was as if I were actually singing.
Now it’s me and you, and you and me, and it’s whatever, whatever you want it to be…
As the hook came on, he pulled me closer to him so that I was standing between his legs. Feeling the song, and him too, I rubbed his head as I mouthed the lyrics. Soon enough, I was straddling his lap in this mini dress as we kissed. I didn’t know where his tongue began and mine ended. As I rubbed up his shirt to caress his abs, he ripped my panties off.
Standing up while holding me, he placed me on the mixe
r and unbuckled his jeans, releasing himself.
“Ah.” I gasped as I felt him force his way inside of me.
He began sucking my lips, gliding in and out of my pussy slowly, until he could do it with ease. He was surely the biggest I’d had, and I wasn’t complaining. It took no time for me to cum on his long, thick rod, forcing us both to moan.
Gripping my ass cheeks tightly, he kept my legs over his forearms, and beat my pussy up as he stared in my eyes with his teeth holding his bottom lip captive. I could do nothing but whimper and cry like a little animal, before we resumed kissing. Our sex was competing with Aaliyah’s vocals.
“Fuck, Camarih.” He nuzzled his face into my neck, sucking it hard as he fucked the shit out of me.
I was speechless as he pounded me harder. I dug my nails into his shoulders, sniveling softly until he finally pulled out, releasing right on my new dress. I was sure Prince would not approve.
Like clockwork, YouTube had begun playing Aaliyah’s track “I Care 4 U” automatically, as we caught our breath.
“I like you so much.” I whispered as we pecked.
Tony backed away then left the room, coming back with some towels. He used the damp ones to clean his dick, then the others to clean as much of my dress as he could. The towels were then trashed.
He quickly cut the song off and then helped me down off of the mixer.
“Ton—”
“Get ya stuff.”
I paused for a moment then fixed my dress before getting my leftover food and purse. We left to his car without another word, and when he drove me home, he played his music too loudly for us to talk. I didn’t live far from where we were, so it took about five minutes for him to make it there.
“Thank you for tonight, Tony. It was nice.” I nodded.
“I got somewhere to be, Camarih.”
Slightly shocked, I nodded again and pulled the door latch to get out. Before I could get all of the way, he grabbed my arm.
“Let me go, please.”
Running his tongue across his lips and briefly glancing off like he was thinking, he said, “You a pretty ass girl, probably the prettiest a nigga don’ ever seen. You cool as fuck, and the pussy is as good as I thought it was, but, baby girl, I’m not the type of nigga you looking for.”
She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest Page 5