“Hope so.”
Vanessa and Candy walked in silence down the congested Las Vegas strip filled with bright lights and what seemed like every sound imaginable. They had been there for over a year, but Vanessa hardly enjoyed the lively setting. The ancient Egyptian-styled architecture. The limousines coasting. The rowdy college kids. The classy couples draped in diamonds and custom clothing. Vegas had a life just as vibrant as its gamblers. Vanessa wanted to enjoy it, but she couldn't. Her days were filled with thoughts of revenge or arguments with Rich over those thoughts. And beyond that, Vanessa was homesick. She removed her iPad from her handbag and began rereading some of her diary. She had planned to turn it into a novel since her agent was stressing her to meet the deadline for her second book.
Kelly Roland's “Motivation” sounded and Candy pulled out her smartphone at the tune of the ringtone. It was Domingo on a face time call.
“What's good, Mamita?”
“You tell me,” Candy said, looking at Domingo's face on the small screen.
“Figured it was something since your man Rich playing phone games with me.”
Candy thought of Rich snatching her phone earlier. “That's a long story you don't need to read.”
Vanessa inched close beside Candy. “Hey, Domingo.” She put her iPad away.
“What's up my soul sister?”
“Listen, Domingo. I know you might not mean any harm by it, but like I said before, I would appreciate it if you toned down the flirting with Candy.”
“I ain't even know you was serious about that, ya heard?”
“Yes, I was,” Vanessa said.
“What, you mad I ain't givin' you no rhythm, my soul sister? You fly, but I like them big booty girls with them tig old bitties like Candy.”
Vanessa sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.
“This is what I'm talking about. Show me some respect.”
“Anyway—”
“No, it's not anyway. You're not going to keep disrespecting me, Domingo, and that's that!” Vanessa raised her voice.
“Calm down, Vanessa.” Candy looked at Domingo. “Try to curb your tongue.”
“All right, all right, all right. Anyway, like I was saying before Vanessa caught a titty attack. I just got a e-vite from Leah inviting me to her baby shower. She was tellin' me about it before, but she just sent the invite at the last minute.”
“Really? Leah?” Candy responded, clearly anxious to hear about her former employee.
“You got a big ass, but I wouldn't blow smoke up it.”
“Where is the shower gonna be at?” Candy watched Domingo's head turn away from the screen.
“Yo, Ma, let me holler at you,” he said, then paused. “Oh, it's like that, Ma?”
“Domingo!” Candy barked into the phone.
He turned back to her. “Mamita, it’s bad enough you ain't ready to let me taste that and see why they call you Candy, but now you cock blockin' too.”
“I'm payin' you to handle business. You can get your dick wet on your own time.”
“All right.” Domingo turned back away from the phone, then faced it again. “I gotta go get this little broad, so I'm hangin' up. But I'm a send you that evite Leah hit me with, ya heard? One.”
Candy turned and hung up her phone. “His little ass is too much.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Tell me something I don't know.”
Minutes later, the women were reading the invitation. The location of the baby shower was in the Brooklyn neighborhood of DUMBO. The date was weeks away.
“This is it,” said Candy.
“You wanna shoot up a baby shower?” Vanessa inquired, her eyebrows elevated.
Candy looked into her eyes. “They didn't care about my baby when they beat him out of me.”
Vanessa knew she was right. The rules had been broken a long time ago and Leah was the mastermind behind the plot that changed everything. She had destroyed the life Candy was bearing. Someone had to pay. Whether in broad daylight on the doorstep of a church, or at night as the culprits slept in the privacy of their bedrooms, wherever they were and whoever was at fault, they would suffer.
CHAPTER THREE
RICH
After Candy and Vanessa left Rich in the suite, he found his way to the craps table downstairs. He blew $12,000 before taking a seat at the bar. Over shots of Ciroc, he reflected on his surroundings and how his life had spiraled out of control. It was a twist of irony for a thirty-seven-year-old whose discipline and intellect had allowed him to dominate countless women and regulate a large portion of the drug trade in New York City.
Now, after escaping death on the streets and having little value for women, he was faced with two women he loved who were bringing him back into a world of murder and mayhem. He felt guilty. Guilty because he had created a monster the moment he placed a .380-caliber Llama in Vanessa's hands and taught her to shoot. Although Vanessa would not hesitate to squeeze a trigger, Rich knew that it took more than an index finger to survive and handle beef effectively. Quick thinking and a calm demeanor were necessary to survive shootouts and evade police.
Rich downed his third shot of Ciroc and stepped off from the bar.
He stopped and looked at the text message from Free, an employee and associate of the luxury car rental company Rich co-owned. Free reminded Rich that profits were down for the fourth month straight. Rich shook his head and continued walking.
As he navigated through the loud casino, weaving in between crowds, his ears pulled his eyes to a familiar voice at a nearby poker table. He grinned at the sight of King Justice Allah. King was a goon from the Brownsville section of Brooklyn. He and Rich had met in a gambling spot in Harlem and had done a lot of business together. King specialized in squeezing drug dealers until there was no more money left in their pockets, and Rich had pointed out a number of competitors in the drug game to King. Rich had not seen King since he disappeared about five years earlier following a shootout involving King that left a Dominican kingpin in a wheelchair.
He don't look much different. Rich gazed at the man who shared the same dark chocolate complexion with himself. But while Rich's athletic frame was that of a middleweight boxer, King could pass for a Chicago Bears linebacker. A thin black diamond chain hung from his neck to the white T-shirt that fell just below his waistline, above the pockets of his crisp Red Monkey jeans.
Just as Rich neared King, the Brooklynite turned to him. His deep baritone voiced, “You know I don't let nobody creep up on me. A king knows every square inch of his cipher.” He stood and hugged Rich.
“What's good, King?” The duo parted and Rich stared at King's sneaky grin. “Been a long time.”
“Actual fact. Had to spread my wings so I could fly.” King told Rich he had moved to Atlanta and opened a modeling agency.
“So you got tired of putting your hands in the pockets of hustlers?”
“It's hard to get tired of easy money.” King chuckled. “But change is inevitable.”
“As a man that retired from the game, I can feel you.”
“Retired from the game?” King's round face scrunched up. “What that mean? You got a 401K from your connect?”
“Still got jokes.”
“And you still gotta be hustlin'. Dude like you been in the street before you could spell street. And what's up with Chase?”
Rich was thrown off by the mentioning of Chase's name. King was the first person Rich had crossed paths with from the streets who knew Chase. “I left the game, Chase stayed. That's where we parted.”
“Parted? The same Chase that did five years for you? You can't separate the sun from its light.”
“A lot of things changed since you broke out. If a notorious extortionist can become the owner of a modeling agency, anything is possible.”
King nodded and grinned. “Change is inevitable, but a wise man changes for the better.”
As they talked, Rich noticed a slender cocoa-toned woman in her mid-twenties gliding his way. Her sla
nted eyes met his, conveying her interest in him without a word. Her full lips that were coated with lipstick which matched the burgundy dress clenching her curvaceous body. She drew the attention of every man that she stepped past in her open-toe heels. She smiled as she stopped beside King, her eyes still on Rich.
King put his hand on her shoulder and said, “This is—”
“Zora,” she reached out and shook Rich's hand. “Zora Phillips.”
“Rich.”
“My personal assistant,” said King. “We're out here on business.”
Zora sized up Rich, eyeing his navy blue Armani suit and diamond cufflinks. “You here on business also?”
“If it don't make money, it don't make sense.”
“True hustler,” King said, turning to Zora. “Rich used to switch up his cars like Nicki Minaj switch up wigs.”
King and Rich began reminiscing about their heyday on the streets. Rich could see Zora becoming more intrigued with each word she heard about him. He fueled her interest by recounting tales of him buying out the bar at nightclubs and making it rain big faces at strip clubs. He even tossed in the stories of him purchasing his first condo at age twenty-one and him hosting a Y2K Theme New Year's Eve bash in the Hamptons.
“So, you here all alone?” she asked. “No Mrs. Rich?”
Rich thought about Vanessa and Candy as he caught a glimpse of Zora's hips shift. Before he had met Vanessa and Candy, he would not have hesitated to answer Zora's question with a negative. Back then, his BlackBerry was overflowing with women's phone numbers. The word faithful was something that never entered his mind, nor exited his lips. He looked at Zora. “I rarely travel alone.”
She smiled. “You seemed kind of apprehensive about that response.”
“That's a matter of perception.”
“Pardon self,” King interjected. “A brother gotta use the bathroom.” He grinned at Rich, clearly indicating he was giving Rich and Zora some space. King stepped off.
Rich wanted to be faithful, no matter how angry he was with Vanessa and Candy, so he tried to change the subject. “Where you from?”
“It's not about where I’m from. It's about where we're going.”
“Can't accuse you of being indirect.”
“You look like you can appreciate a woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to go after it.”
“So drive this bus and just tell me the destination.”
“My hotel room, if the traffic is clear and we don't get pulled over for speeding.”
Staring at Zora's luscious lips, Rich couldn't help but imagine them wrapped around his dick. He began to rationalize cheating on Vanessa and Candy by pointing to the drama he had been through with them earlier. They were flirting with death in total disregard for him, so he was not obligated to honor their relationship.
Zora looked at her watch, then pulled out the keycard to her room.
Rich stared directly into her sexy eyes. “You really want it, but I hope you can handle it.”
“My suite is upstairs.”
Rich led the way toward the elevator, but he stopped alongside Zora at the bar where she bought a bottle of Moet. They sped to the elevator and Rich stood behind her. His eyes were stuck on her ass like the triangle logo on a pair of Guess jeans. He could tell she was either wearing a thong or nothing underneath her sheer silk dress.
The elevator doors opened and several people stepped out before Zora and Rich stepped inside. Zora pressed the button of her floor, then stepped back as the doors closed. “I knew the moment our eyes met if there was a Mrs. Rich, she wasn't a problem.”
“There's actually two misses. And since they're probably somewhere pleasing each other, it’s only right I have some fun.”
Zora's eyebrows arched. “Pleasing each other? So one woman ain't enough?”
“Why else would we be headed to your hotel room?”
Zora laughed. But her smiles were cut short when the elevator came to an abrupt halt, flinging her into Rich's arms.
“You okay?” Rich asked, inhaling her perfume as he cradled her in his arms. “I'm okay, but I think we're stuck.”
Rich stepped over and pressed a few buttons. The elevator didn't move. He opened the emergency box and tried to place a call on the phone. “The line is down.”
“I'll use my cell,” Zora said, pulling out her Sidekick. She called the hotel lobby and was told there was a problem with all of the elevators and they were being worked on. “Thirty minutes?” She shook her head, then hung up and looked at Rich. “Get comfortable, because they said a half-hour, which really means an hour.”
“Damn. I think this AC went down too.” Rich removed his tie and took off his blazer.
Zora held up the bottle of champagne. “This should cool you off,” she said as Rich removed his shirt and tank top. “Nice six pack.” Zora pressed the cold bottle of Moet against Rich's stomach.
He inched back and took the bottle.
“I'm starting to sweat already,” Zora said, her bracelets jingling as she fanned her face with her hand.
“You need to lose that dress.”
“You just wanna see my goodies.” Zora giggled.
“When you got a sweet tooth like mine and you're hungry, you do more than look at goodies.”
Zora stripped down to her thong and bra. She began unbuckling Rich's belt and helping him step out of his pants. He stood with nothing on but his Polo boxer briefs and dress socks. Zora's eyes were stuck on his underwear as she stepped back.
“Time to celebrate,” Rich declared. “I'm trapped in an elevator with a beautiful woman that's half naked.” Rich licked his lips and began shaking the champagne bottle. “What more could a man ask for?” He popped the cork of the bottle and doused Zora with suds.
“Stop.” She giggled, covering her face with her hands.
Rich watched the champagne drip down her cleavage over her smooth brown skin to her navel. Beneath her thong. In between her legs. His dick grew hard at the sight of the champagne glistening off her chocolate flesh. The wetness of her thong highlighted the mound between her legs. Rich drank from the bottle, then passed it to Zora.
She took a swig and poured some on Rich, screaming playfully.
Rich wrestled the bottle from Zora and pinned her against the elevator wall, removing her breast from her bra. Slipping his tongue in her mouth, he kissed her passionately before he drifted to her neck. He licked the trail of Moet that led down her soft skin.
“Umph…ahh,” she moaned as Rich circled one of her nipples with his tongue.
He massaged the champagne into her other B-cup. Her nipple hardened in his hand before he took it in his mouth. His hand slipped into her thong, causing her to whimper as he worked one breast, then the other.
“Please,” Zora moaned. Her back arched, breasts pushing forward, deeper into Rich's mouth as she put her hand over his. They applied the perfect amount of pressure to her clit.
Rich stepped back and dripped some more Moet on her chest and followed it down her chest with his tongue. In one swift motion he removed her thong and placed his tongue against her clit.
“Oh shit,” Zora blurted. She instinctively hoisted one of her legs over Rich's shoulder.
Rich could feel her body twitch as he jabbed her clit with his tongue. The taste of the champagne mixed with the juices of her shaven pussy was surreal. He could feel her manicured nails digging into his scalp through his 360 waves.
“Eat me. God. Eat me.”
Rich palmed her soft buttcheeks. He lifted her from the elevator floor while swiping his tongue back and forth from her clit to inside the warm flesh between her pussy lips.
Zora gripped his head tighter. “Come on. I'm about to cum. Make me cum, Daddy.”
Rich felt her legs lock around his head as she reached a climax. Her body continued to twitch as he let her down from the wall. He took a step back, her sweet nectar dripping from his lips. He dropped his underwear. After Zora was only stable on her feet for a minute
, she kneeled and took Rich into her mouth. The sensation of her tongue glazing the shaft of his dick was overpowering him. He let out a quick grunt as she wrapped her lips around the head of his dick. Rich closed his eyes, pulling her back with him as he leaned against the elevator door.
Zora cupped Rich's balls. She rubbed them gently and applied more suction to the head of his dick as she worked her way up and down it.
Rich looked down at the straight hair trailing from her head to the small of her back. He grabbed a handful and pulled Zora to her feet with the perfect balance of care and aggression. He looked into her eyes as she rose.
Lickin' License Part 2: More Sex, More Saga Page 2