by Noire
“Listen up!”
The devil growled from his fine, evil mouth. “This is Juicy-Mo from 136th Street. I’m gonna ask y’all once and I expect the mothafuckin’ truth. Who in here done had them some of this? I wanna know if anybody up in here ever sucked her or fucked her. If any of you bitches ever rubbed your clit on her. I wanna know if anybody ever had they fingers in her. Their tongue! Let me know right dammit now, if any mothafucka up in here done so much as smelled this pussy!”
The young girl cringed as nearly everyone in the room jumped up hollering, “Me! Me! Me! I did! I did! Yeah, I fucked her! I sucked her! I licked her too! Hell fuckin’ yeah I got me some of that! Me too! Me too! That’s a community pussy! I got me a lil bit too!”
Her baby brother stood up in the front row and the girl cried out at the sight of him. The bright lights shone down on his injuries and she moaned with grief. Jimmy raised his hand and wiggled his broken fingers in the air.
Her brother had nothing but love for the devil as he laughed and yelled, “Man, every niggah in Harlem done tapped that ass! That bitch gives some real dead head!”
The crowd cracked up laughing, and the girl could only weep as the devil gazed down at her with a dark, evil stare.
He was going to kill her.
She could see it in his eyes.
Fast as lightning, he snatched her by the throat and cut off her breath. She didn’t even struggle as his monster blows rained down on her head and he called her every kind of stank bitch and nasty hoe he could muster. He pummeled her face, her chest, and sought out her tender gut.
And when the devil finally flung her over on her stomach and began unbuckling his belt, the young girl just lay there helplessly. In total submission. She was ready to die. The will to live flew right out of her as he yanked her naked hips high in the air. His penis was black and erect, and poised to ram her straight into nightmare hell.
But the girl didn’t fight back, and she certainly didn’t refuse the devil.
There was no need to.
Because if the pretty young girl hadn’t been taught a damn thing during the two years she’d been Granite “G” McKay’s woman, she had definitely learned one thing was true: come hell or high water, the devil always got his due.
$$$$$
I woke up in bed with my nightgown tangled around my neck. Somehow I’d ripped it off in my sleep and gotten caught up in it. I struggled to catch my breath. A scream pushed against my throat and my heart banged so hard I thought my chest was about to explode. My nightmare had felt real as hell. I was so convinced it was actually happening that my fists were balled up and my booty-cheeks were clenched tight.
For a moment I was right back where it had all started. Back in Harlem. Back inside the G-Spot, the high-rolling nightclub where I had lost my soul and almost lost my life.
I glanced over and saw Gino snuggled under the sheets beside me, and suddenly everything began shifting back into focus.
They had come to me in my dreams again. My family. Grandmother, Cara, Aunt Ree, Dicey, and worst of all, Jimmy. Not the way they were when they were alive and loving me, but the way they were in death. The way G wanted me to see them, and most of all to remember them. Twisted, sliced, bloodied, broke down, shot up. Brutalized.
It had been six months since the night I’d run out of the G-Spot with nothing but a filthy sheet wrapped around me and a nasty tube sock pressed between my legs. Six months since the life I was living had cost me almost everything and everybody I had ever loved.
Something inside me broke wide open and the fear and pain came flying out. My tears were hard and silent. The kind of cries an innocent girl makes when she’s been crushed in her soul.
I had been a naïve and sheltered seventeen-year-old schoolgirl when Granite McKay rescued me from my grandmother’s raggedy apartment on 136th Street, and took me and my brother Jimmy to his luxurious penthouse on Central Park West.
G might have been an old hustler, but he was top shelf all the way. Between his shiny new whips and imported tailor-made clothes, G was legendary and had absolute power on the streets of Harlem.
At the age of forty-six he had conquered a New York City Kingdom and he ruled it with a perfect balance of fear and respect. People on the streets had love for G. He knew exactly how to take care of the community and he was real generous when he wanted to be. G was real rich and he surrounded himself with nice things. He had turned me on to the finest stuff money could buy. When we moved to Central Park West, G hired two maids and a driver. He paid a stylist to do my hair, and a Swedish woman to massage my body and keep my skin soft just in case he felt like touching me.
But just because a man had money it didn’t mean he could put his thing down the right way. G was rich, but he was set in his ways too. I was just a delicious piece of eye candy to him, and the only thing he allowed me to do was sit up on a barstool and look good every night.
So while I liked what G was giving me, I wasn’t satisfied with the way he was giving it to me. G was like a big bucket of ice-cold water, and my young body was sizzling hot, burning straight on fire. A buster like him couldn’t help but want to splash on me and put out my flames.
So, yeah. I had been really stupid while I was busy thinking I was so smart, but if I’d had even a little bit of sense on the cap, I would have never let Granite McKay take me up on the G-Spot stage and announce to the world that I was his. I had felt so lucky for getting chosen by the King of Harlem! But let’s face it. If Lady Luck had really been on my side, she would’ve told me to break up out of the G-Spot and run for my life.
Read more
in
G-Spot 2: The Seven Deadly Sins
Pride: The 1st Deadly Sin
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Now enjoy
Wildin On Staten Island
from
Empire State of Mine$!
EMPIRE STATE OF MINE$!
An Urban Erotic Thriller
WARNING!
This here ain’t no romance,
It’s an Urban Erotic Thriller
The block is clickin, the plots get thickened
when dealing with straight-up killers!
This the city that never sleeps
The Zip ’em up crew always plays for keeps
Drugs and bosses, slugs and coffins,
lives get lost and pain is deep!
Home of the G’s and diamond thieves,
Where crooked police won’t let you breathe,
Where the money comes fast and they put you on blast
and the belly of the beast won’t let you leave!
A lot of shit goes down in this gunslingers town,
pay ya dues...no rules when they coming for ya crown!
Every borough is thorough and ya life’s on the line,
this is NYC, an Empire State of Mine$!
EMPIRE
STATE of MINE$!
(It’s A Movie in A Book)
Episode 5
Wildin on Staten Island
A NOIRE & REEM RAW JOINT
There are eight million stories in the naked city of New York.
These five are all the way live.
“Shout out to my niggas on Staten,
them cats know how to make it happen,
You know they ’bout that action cause they wit the gun clapp
in!”
CHAPTER 1
Body Snatchers
Slick had slammed the front door in Jewelz’s face hard enough to shake the whole damn building. And now, in a rage, he whirled around and smashed his fist hard into his living room wall.
“Yo!” he stared at Honore and demanded, ready to amp out on her ass. “What the fuck was that shit all about?”
Honore threw her hands up in the air.
“Fuck is you asking me for?” she riffed, standing there half-dressed and giving him the stupid eye. “That tore-down bitch just rolled up in here outta nowhere waving a gun around and acting all crazy!”
“Acting crazy for what?” Slick blasted on her with death rays blazing in his eyes. “What kinda business y’all got between y’all? What was all that beef about?”
“Hell if I know!” Honore bucked her eyes at him and barked right back. “That trick is the one who got up in here with a key! She stuck that shit in the lock and walked up in your joint like she be paying the rent or something. So you tell me what the hell she came here for!”
“There had to be a reason!” Slick said, storming into his bedroom so he could put on some sweats and a hoodie. “Jewelz didn’t just come up in here wildin out for nothing!”
“She tried to shoot me!” Honore hollered. “Look at my damn head!” she demanded as Slick pulled some sweats over his shorts and finished getting dressed. She swiveled her neck. “You see this big-ass knot? Your bitch did that with her gun! She smacked me with it! You up in here asking me all kinds of stupid questions when I’m the one with the headache and you the one with your face sliced open! While you busy worrying about that dehydrated looking germ-ball you need to be tryna get yourself to the hospital and get your shit stitched up!”
“Fuck the hospital!” Slick barked as he walked in the kitchen and grabbed a clean dishtowel off the counter. He was fuming so hard as he pressed it to his bleeding wound that he couldn’t even think straight.
A pulse beat hard in Slick’s temple as he walked outta the kitchen and glanced around his living room. Them chicks had fucked his shit up. Mad items were everywhere. His coffee table had been knocked over and glass shards from a crystal lamp were scattered all over the floor. The bullet hole that was in the wall above the couch was a glaring visual reminder of just how close he had come to getting his melon split right in his own crib!
But remembering how his life had flashed before his eyes wasn’t even what had Slick faded. Nah, it was that last look in Jewelz’s eyes that had him all fucked up in the gut. That look of betrayal that she had hit him with when he told her to fly up outta his joint. That look of deep pain and even deeper love.
Slick! Can’t you see who she is?
Slick’s stomach clenched as he turned his back on Honore. Suddenly a hood alarm was ringing in his ear. Ringing louder than a po-po siren. Something didn’t feel right. Something in the mix was off. Way the fuck off.
Slick trusted Jewelz with his life, without a doubt. He knew that on any day of the week she would take a bullet between the eyes for him just as he would for her. Popping up at his crib shooting off a strap wasn’t exactly her style, but with this crazy-jealous-envy shit she had going on with Honore, anything was possible.
“Man, fade that tweakin hoe out ya mind, Slick!” Honore mouthed off behind him as she started putting her clothes back on. “That bitch got a real nice bumper on her so I know you probably smashing her unstable ass, but you need to change ya damn locks and tell her to kick rocks!”
“Yo, miss me with the feedback!” Slick chastised her as he walked over to the bar to pour himself another drink. “All that hate ain’t a good look.”
“Hate? I ain’t a hater! I’m just not the one for all that extra disrespect shit, a’ight? I came here to give you some pussy tonight, not to get shot by one of your baldheaded low-budget jump-off bitches who don’t know how to stay her ugly ass in her lane.”
“Ay!” Slick whirled around. He nailed Honore to the wall in a cold, deadly glare. “Who the fuck is you disrespecting like that?” he demanded.
Slick shook his head like a bull as he abandoned the bar and stalked up on her ass like a lion. Ever since he’d met this bitch his shit had been falling off and sliding downhill. Every move he made, and every single thing he touched, had turned shitty with Honore up underneath him polluting up the fuckin game!
“Yo, you better watch ya fuckin mouth when you spittin about Jewelz, a’ight?”
Honore’s hazel eyes got big like two moons. “Watch my mouth? You want me to watch my mouth?” She chuckled mirthlessly and let it all hang out.
“That burnt-out dusty duck of yours is the one rolling around here acting like she got a goddamn screw loose! Coming in here pointing a damn ratchet in my face and trying to shoot me! Look at your face! She coulda twisted your wig back real good for you in that bathroom, Slick! And you want me to watch my muthafuckin mouth?”
She smirked and flicked her hand. “Nigga, please! I don’t know what you and that trick got going on, but if that’s the type of bird you like to slum with then maybe you should be trying to get up in her drawers tonight instead of mines!”
Slick chuckled coldly. This bitch just didn’t know what type of bomb he had been planning to drop down on her head tonight. She was standing up there testing his loyalty like he wasn’t about that life.
“Yo, baby, if you asking me to choose between you and Jewelz then you can ga’head and fade away like a jump shot because that choice already been made. It ain’t even a competition.”
“What?” Honore shot back. She narrowed her eyes and spit back at him with much attitude. “I know you not stacking that bucket-head bitch up against me! Damn right there ain’t no competition! I roll outta the bed after a rough night looking ten times better than she do on her best day! Yeah, you musta been running game when you told me you didn’t have no special woman in ya life. Obviously that bitch must mean something special to you because you about to let her wreck this good thing you and me got going on!”
Slick couldn’t believe this shit. Right about now everything in his world was looking brand new. He felt like he was just waking up from a long, drunken nap, and he couldn’t believe he had been pussy-whipped and booty-blinded for so fucking long.
“C’mon, French Fry.” Slick picked Honore’s purse up off the floor and walked over to his front door. “It’s time for you to get gone. Forever. C’mon, now. Skip to the Lou. Hit the Quan and do the Nae Nae up outta my damn crib!”
Slick opened his door wide as fuck, looking back and forth from Honore’s shocked face to the long stretch of the empty hallway.
“Slick!” Honore pouted. “Nigga I know you ain’t putting me outta ya crib!”
Slick grilled her coldly and held out her purse to her. He glanced down the hall again like, ga’head and bounce baby, and that’s when it caught his eye.
A shoe.
In the middle of the hallway and turned over on its side.
Slick stuck his head out the door and peered at it closely. It sure nuff was a shoe. A chick’s shoe.
Jewelz’s shoe.
Dropping Honore’s purse, Slick rushed into the hallway and snatched the shoe up with both hands. He was straightening up to a stand when he peeped the trail of wet droplets that were splattered all over the floor. He bent over and dipped his middle finger in one and his heart banged when he saw what it was.
Blood.
And that’s when he heard thought he heard a faint cry.
Slickkkk…
He glanced up at Honore to see if she had heard anything but she was grilling him and the expression on her face never changed.
Slickkkk…
Da fuck? Was that Jewelz screaming for him? Or was his fuckin ears playing tricks on him?
He paused and listened hard, straining to see if the cries would come again.
Slickkkk...
In the absolute silence of the hallway Slick finally realized that it wasn’t his ears he was hearing
with. Nah, he was hearing with his heart. Jewelz needed him, goddammit! Her heart was calling him!
In an instant Slick took off running back to his apartment. He hit his front door with a bang. He was going for the blicky. Some ill shit was going down and he wasn’t taking no chances.
“What’s wrong?” Honore said giving him a worried look as he dashed back up in the apartment moving on a hundred. “Slick!” she called behind him as he rushed right past her. “Baby please tell me what’s wrong?”
He didn’t even see her. Moving silently Slick dashed into his bedroom and reached under the mattress and retrieved a loaded Glock. He jammed that shit down firmly in his waistband and he was beating feet out the door again when he snatched his phone off the clip and pressed Jewelz’s number on speed dial.
Slick hit the hallway like a mad sprinter. He knew better than to mess around with the elevator. With Honore still hollering out behind him he busted through the 12th floor stairwell door gripping his heat in one hand and his phone in the other one as Jewelz’s shit rang over and over again on the other end.
By the time Slick got down to the first floor her phone had gone to voicemail.
Shit! He cursed under his breath as he darted across the glamorous lobby and burst outta the front door of his condo.
The streets of his upscale neighborhood were quiet and deserted. All he saw when he hit the sidewalk was the fading taillights of a car moving off in the distance and turning the corner.