Gods & Gangsters 2

by SLMN

He stood over her.

  “What about my mother, Bianca?” he spat, both hands flexed like talons.

  She looked up at him with a plea in her eyes.

  “She’s the one… she told me you were gay… She told me that Devante had to go and that if I didn’t do something, I would lose you! I did it for you. For us. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I just wanted you to love me!”

  Her wretched pleas fell on deaf ears.

  The second she had revealed Aphrodite’s manipulations his ears had begun to ring with the screams of a thousand cursed souls.

  His mind went back to the conversation they had…

  “Who benefits?”

  Now, he saw it so clearly.

  She benefited by Devante’s death.

  With Devante out of the way, she could control him, use his pain as her own tool of destruction. She knew how he felt about her, how tortured he was inside, and she used it, just like she’d used the pathetic Bianca as her cat’s paw to toy with him.

  But knowing all of that didn’t take his rage away.

  It didn’t change the fact that it was Bianca groveling at his feet for forgiveness, not Aphrodite.

  His heart was dead, those two bitches had killed it.

  He no longer recognized forgiveness.

  Adonis reached down and grabbed Bianca by the hair and hauled her up. He used his other hand to grab her by the pussy, inserting four of his fingers like she was a bowling ball, getting a good grip on her frail, flailing body as he carried her to the edge of the terrace and looked down at the trees in the valley below, their leaves rippling in the breeze.

  He lifted her over his head like a weightless dumbbell as she screamed and pissed herself, the steaming yellow urine streaming down his wrist and arm.

  She screamed his name as she stared into the abyss of the forest far below.

  He felt nothing as he heaved her out over the edge and watched her fall. It took seconds for her body to disappear into the darkness, and more before he heard the rush of it falling through the canopy of leaves, then finally, that a distant, sickening echo drifting back up to him as she broke across the rocks hidden beneath the tree tops.

  Adonis turned from the edge and crossed the terrace to the wet bar, poured himself a drink, went to sit with his feet in the infinity pool, watching the sky. The way the moon was almost eclipsed made it look like it was grinning down at him, Jupiter and Venus shining bright like the eyes of the universe.

  The gods knew.

  He savored his drink, taking the time to really enjoy it before he went through the glass bifold doors into the room to make the call down to the reception in the main building.

  “Yes, this is Mr. Hamlet. I need a line to America… Yes, I’ll hold.”

  Several minutes later, once he was connected to his accountant’s line, he said, “I need you to get on the phone and have five hundred thousand wired to the Bank of Bali within an hour. Then have someone there get out of bed and bring me the money in cash, right away… Yes, I am well aware what time it is, but, and think carefully before you answer this, do you know what time it will be if you let me down? No. Let me give you a clue. Time for you to find another job,” Adonis warned, then hung up, sat back and waited for his orders to be executed.

  He couldn’t help himself.

  He felt aroused.

  There was no one here.

  No one anywhere around, no one overlooking his slice of paradise, so he pulled his shirt off and stepped out of his shorts, and naked and hard, walked over to the edge where he’d disposed of his wife only moments earlier, stroking his erection as he surveyed the most beautiful landscape he had ever seen.

  When he came a few minutes later, his cum flew and fell and he couldn’t help but smile at the idea that his nut had gone hundreds of feet. That must have been some sort of record.

  He swam naked beneath the joker’s moon, feeling himself getting hard again.

  It would have been a shame to waste a good erection, so he bust another nut, this time in the infinity pool, before he got out, toweled himself off, and went back through to the room to get rest.

  Two hours later, the money was delivered by the bank president himself; an older man who shuffled about and seemed to get off on the fact he had a briefcase with half a million bucks cuffed to his wrist and three goons watching over him as he played courier.

  “Mr. Hamlet, here is your money. It was an usual request at such a late hour, but we have done all we could to accommodate it,” the man said smoothly, taking the key from his pocket to release the cuff before he handed Adonis the briefcase full of money.

  “Thank you. If I may, I do have one more request.”

  “Anything we can do to be of service,” the man assured him

  “I need to speak to the chief of police. My wife is… missing.”

  “Of course,” the man assured him. “I trust she will turn up soon. Perhaps she went to explore our beautiful countryside?”

  “I’m sure she did,” Adonis deadpanned.

  It didn’t take too long for the chief of police to arrive, despite their seeming remoteness.

  He was a younger man, though he was graying at the temples.

  No nonsense. They shook hands. Before they broke contact, the chief said, “I understand that you would like to report that your wife is missing?”

  “Ah, actually, I found her.”

  “Very good, I trust you will enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

  “I found her,” he repeated, “but unfortunately, she’s dead.” Adonis eyed the other man’s reaction.

  The Police Chief looked at him.

  “If you will forgive me saying, you don’t look… particularly distraught, Mr. Hamlet.”

  Adonis popped open the briefcase.

  The Police Chief looked down at the stacks piled neatly upon stacks of valuable American currency.

  “Neither should you,” Adonis said, and with those three words the chief understood it all. Enlightenment was funny like that in the face of half a million answers. He pulled out a small notepad. “And how did she die, Mr. Hamlet?”

  Adonis shrugged. “I assume she fell. It is a terribly long way down, and that railing is very low.”

  The Chief closed the pad after writing those few words.

  “Then I have concluded my investigation. The official findings will be misadventure, Mr. Hamlet. A pleasure doing business with you, and may I assure you, you are most welcome in our province at any time.”

  The Police Chief smiled.

  Adonis returned the smile with one of his own, but inside he wasn’t smiling.

  He was thinking of his mother…

  “I want you to kill Cash,” Othello told Mac, no bones, no bull, straight out asked him to do the deed as they drove through the old neighborhood in Othello’s car. They were trolling the streets, reliving the old hustla days, when everything was scratching and ducking and just trying to stay alive. The days when they were brothers and betrayal seemed unimaginable.

  Mac shook his head.

  “O, don’t ask me to do this. Please, anything else,” Mac begged, his voice fucked up as he pleaded for Cash’s life. It was a mask, and a fucking convincing one. Deep inside, he was ecstatic. Fizzing. “I’m not going to lie, brah. I don’t think I can. I mean… I know he did you wrong, real low, but something in me just won’t let go. Look out the window, this was our place, O. This was us. Our blood is in those bricks out there, in the cracks in the pavement. We’re like this place. Battered, seen better days, but still standing, you know? Side by side, like always. Give him a pass, O. Cut him off, banish him from the streets,” Mac suggested, offering an alternative he knew O wouldn’t take. Cash had to go, though, because if he stuck around, eventually Othello would confront him, no matter how deeply he tried to bury his hurt. Then all of the truth would come out.

  If that happened, it’d be Mac on the chopping block instead, no second chances, no remorse.

  Othello shook his head.


  “I can’t do that, either. I need you to do it,” Othello said.

  “O...”

  “Listen, you do this, and the connect is yours. Period. My word. I’ll make you the boss when I retire.”

  Mac thought his heart was going to betray him. It was howling with laughter at O. Dark as the muhfucka was, it had found its desire, accomplished the cold win. Done. But Mac kept his game face on.

  He sighed hard.

  “O, you askin’ a lot, brah. What about Mona?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “You kill her, and it’s war with Joe, you know that, right?” Mac warned.

  “I’m already at war with Joe,” Othello revealed.

  Mac looked at him, confused. “What you mean?”

  “History, Mac. Joe killed my father,” Othello told him.

  “What?! How you know?”

  “Black Sam’s brother told me years ago.”

  “And you believe that nigga?”

  Othello nodded. “He knew too much, the circumstances around it, stuff only someone there would know. Bottom line is: I’ve been waiting for my opportunity, and for the longest time the only thing making me hesitate was Mona. But now…”

  “Damn,” was all Mac could say.

  “So what up?” Othello wanted to know.

  Mac looked him in the eyes, and replied, “I got you, big brah.”

  Othello just had no idea what he really meant was I got you. Same words, double entendre.

  Adonis returned to the States a different man.

  Tempered by tragedy. Forged in fire. Ready to rule.

  First stop, less than an hour after touching down, was to see his mother at the estate.

  He knew his father wouldn’t be home, he’d planned the visit to coincide with a Commission summit. He’d deal with him later. Right now, walking across the gravel driveway in the shadows of the mansion, Adonis didn’t know what he would do when he laid eyes on her, but trusted he would once he was inside.

  He moved through the mansion like a wraith, climbing the marble stairs, ghosting past the expensive art and ancient vases and other excesses, listening for sounds of life.

  He found her in her bedroom.

  She was getting her game face on, slapping on the makeup that would hide her emotions as she played the latest political gala for her best needs. This one was for the Mayor they’d bought earlier in the year.

  Adonis stood in the doorway, watching her. There was no denying her beauty. It was flawless. It was hard to imagine something so attractive on the outside could be so rotten to the core.

  She eyed him through her vanity mirror.

  “You’re home early, baby,” she said, not turning.

  “There was an accident.” It was a truth of sorts.

  Now she did turn.

  Aphrodite looked at him.

  “An accident?”

  “Yeah… it’s called marriage,” he spat.

  Aphrodite frowned.

  “Baby, what are you talking about? You aren’t making any sense.”

  Adonis stepped further into the room, closer to his mother, closer to a point of no return.

  He felt the rush of arousal, and knew he wasn’t gay. He had never been gay. That was too simple a label for what he was.

  “I killed her, mother. I threw her off the balcony,” Adonis explained, emotionlessly.

  Aphrodite took the revelation in her stride.

  “Because?”

  “Let’s not play games,” Adonis growled, his voice dangerously edged.

  Aphrodite stood.

  “What do you want to say?”

  Adonis stepped in close, within striking distance of his mother, feeling his dick rage in his pants. He could just bend her over and fuck her before he killed her. No one would ever know…

  “No,” he said, “why don’t you do the talking, mother? Why don’t you explain why I had to kill that bitch.”

  Aphrodite smirked subtly.

  “I told you baby, this is a grown up’s game. There’s no room for weakness. None.”

  “And you thought me being gay made me weak? Is that it?”

  “You weren’t weak because you like the cock, honey. I like the cock and I ain’t weak. You hadn’t shown me you have what it takes. So I took away your little boy toy because playtime is over. I wanted you to experience a pain you didn’t think you could bear, something that would either break you or make you,” Aphrodite rasped, coldly.

  Adonis smiled, but it was more of a devilish leer. “You still think I’m weak?”

  “Maybe weaker than I ever feared, Devante’s dead, by your own hands, and your wife, too. You were a tool, Adonis, a tool of your own anguish!”

  It was the laugh that took him over the edge.

  He back-handed her so hard, she staggered back, her legs buckling around the shape of the bed, and fell back onto the mattress, stunned, and face on fire.

  “Adonis!” She gasped, her voice colored with surprise and fear.

  “Bitch, you want strong? I will show you just what you made, mother.”

  “Adonis, please!”

  Adonis smacked Aphrodite again, this time with the full force of his fist. She spat blood, trying desperately to scramble away, but he grabbed her by the ankles and yanked her to the foot of the bed.

  Her skirt rode up, exposing her gash. She was not wearing panties. Her pussy sat out between her legs, fat and juicy, some twisted sexual pout just goading him on.

  Adonis’ blood was filled with fire and fury.

  He would show her the monster he really was.

  She would understand that gay had never been the label for him. Never.

  He snatched a fistful of her hair and brought her face to his.

  “Look deep into the eyes of what you’ve created, bitch!” He seethed, then he gripped the back of her neck and tongued her down.

  There was hesitation, a moment of apprehension followed by a decision she thought might buy her life; she returned the kiss just as violently and passionately.

  He spat on his hand then grabbed both of her ass cheeks and spread them, feeling the wetness from her pussy on his fingertips as he worked his saliva into it.

  Aphrodite reached down to unzip his raging hard on, already bigger than he had experienced in any moment of arousal before the murder of Devante, a match even, for the incredible length that came with Bianca’s death. She squeezed and stroked his dick, looking him in the eye, needing him to believe she wanted him, that this was all she had ever wanted, but he didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t about her. It was all about the monster inside him. Adonis spun her around, closing both hands around her throat, echoing the death fuck that had ended Devante, and rammed his dick into his mother with so much force it was as though he was trying to rip her pussy apart with it.

  “Ohhhhh fuck,” Aphrodite moaned.

  “You wanted strong? Is this what you wanted, mother? Is it! Is it?!” Adonis gritted.

  “Yes, oh yes, oh yes,” she moaned, biting the pillow so she didn’t summon the entire staff with her cries.

  The sounds of skin smacking skin filled the room.

  Adonis pounded Aphrodite relentlessly, jackhammering her pussy until she fear-came back to back, dripping with juices around his meat, her heart beating so fast it felt like it would rip out of her ribs.

  “I-I can’t… please,” she begged, but whether she was begging him to stop or to cum didn’t matter. He continued to punish her pussy unmercifully.

  “Shut the fuck up, mother! This is what you asked for!” Adonis growled, feeling that familiar rumble in his stomach.

  He didn’t want to bust in her cunt. That would be too easy. He wanted to violate her. To mirror Devante in every way. He spread her ass cheeks wide, took his dick out and hammered it balls deep in her asshole, no lube, no gentle easing through the sphincter, just rammed the full length of it all the way in in a single brutal thrust.

  Aphrodite screamed out, howled, pure agony ripped from the mouth,
and collapsed on the bed, the pain shivered through her as he deep dicked her asshole, stroke after humiliating stroke until he exploded in her, his body jerking uncontrollably as his legs buckled beneath him and fell forward across her back, pinning his mother to the bed, his cock still deep inside her ass.

  As his sober mind returned, he felt a self-disgust for himself that went beyond words.

  This was the monster he truly was, the freak, the creature, and it was so much worse than he had ever feared. He was a beast. A thing of fucked up desires. He felt his soul seeping away, out of his body, the goodness that had once lived inside him banished, leaving behind a cold empty space where he would always be this vile fucked up monstrosity.

  He shook himself, then got up, his dick still hard and throbbing, a physical sign of the insatiable nature of his budding desires.

  He looked down on his mother’s ravaged body, stroking his shit covered dick.

  She laid on her stomach, her body wracking with sobs.

  ‘“Bitch, you disgust me,” he spat contemptuously, still stroking the raging hard on that just would not die, “You wanted to create a gangsta? You didn’t. You gave birth to something far worse…. believe me, far worse.” Adonis came again, five strings of cum shooting out across his mother’s face.

  He stared down at her.

  He was a monster.

  Cash and Mac rode along in an eerie silence.

  The full moon loomed above, always there, watching as Cash drove. Mac stared straight ahead. Out beyond the streets they were out of their natural habitat. The silence got to be too much for Cash. He felt something in the air like Phil Collins.

  “What up, yo? You good?” Cash questioned.

  “Huh? Oh yeah, yeah brah, I’m straight. Just thinkin’, you know, about what I’m gonna do after I retire,” Mac lied.

  Cash chuckled.

  “I can just see you gettin’ some old steel fishing boat and spending your days out on the water like some ol’ country ass nigga!”

  “Naw, I don’t know, maybe I’ll head out to Hollywood. You know, be an actor, give Denzel a run for his money,” Mac quipped.

  “Nigga, don’t quit your day job.”

  “Ha!” Mac barked out a laugh. “Right here, right here, cut down this side road,” Mac instructed, pointing.