G-Spot 2 Envy: The 4th Deadly Sin (G-Spot 2: The Seven Deadly Sins)

by Noire

  It was time to go, and Sal jumped on the back of the truck along with the other men. The rear panel of the truck remained raised so each man could hop off and make his escape at the appropriate time.

  They were halfway to the fence when the shots rang out. Standing at the truck’s back opening, Sal ducked instinctively. When he looked up he saw two employees running out of the warehouse. They were brandishing automatic rifles and spraying rounds in their direction.

  Three members of Sal’s team began returning fire, and Sal had just lifted his own weapon to blast a few rounds when he saw something that made his blood run cold.

  It was his cousin Mick.

  Disobeying Sal, Mikail had left the safety of the car and entered the compound, and now he was caught directly in the line of fire.

  “Wait! Wait! Wait!” Sal shouted at the driver as the truck sped toward the fence, leaving Mick behind on the compound. “Hold up! We left somebody!” Sal screamed. “We left some fuckin’ body!”

  Sal reached out both his arms toward his cousin as the young man ran behind the truck with bullets flying past him in both directions.

  The look on Mick’s face was one of bewildered terror as he ducked and dogged in an attempt to stay alive.

  “Stop the fuckin’ truck!” Sal screamed and reached hysterically.

  “Keep fuckin’ going!” the team leader fired his weapon and barked to the driver. “They’re closing the fence! Punch it! Punch the fuckin’ gas! They’re closing the fence!”

  Sal watched in stunned silence as a round skimmed the side of Mick’s lower leg. Grimacing, his cousin clutched his calf and went down to one knee.

  “Run!” Sal bellowed! “Get up and run you stupid fuckin’ idiot!”

  The sting of hot lead got Mick moving again. He jumped to his feet and ran for the fence, favoring his shot leg with every step.

  “C’mon! C’mon! C’mon!” Sal urged, but just as the moving truck lurched across the threshold of the property, the automatic fences began to slide close on their tracks.

  The rest was like watching a train wreck about to happen. Mick was almost there when the next bullet caught him. It sank into the flesh high in his back. Screaming, he was blown forward as the impact of the blast flung him full force into the fence just as it slid to a close.

  “Nooooo!” Sal screamed from deep in his gut. Thousands of white sparks flew in the air as Mick was bonded to the electrified fence. His body shuddered and jerked, and smoke sizzled in a cloud as 20 amps of heat flowed through him from head to toe.

  Sal was helpless as the truck lurched to a stop and his partners-in-crime jumped out and raced toward their cars. His feet were stuck in place, his eyes glued to the picture of his favorite cousin doing a grotesque death dance on the voltage-heavy fence.

  “Get the fuck outta here!” The team chief planted his foot in Sal’s back and kicked him roughly out of the truck. Sal hit the ground hard, then got up running. He jumped behind the wheel of Mick’s souped-up ride, and without another look behind him, he peeled out of the parking lot right behind the others and took off in his pre-designated direction.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Hey, Pluto,” Honey Dew came over to the bar and put her hand on his shoulder. “Something’s wrong with the pipes in this joint, boo. All the damn toilets are overflowing and those plungers ain’t getting it.”

  Pluto looked up from his rum and coke. “Go, tell Ace.”

  “He ain’t here. He went to Burger King to get something to eat.”

  Pluto shrugged and tossed back his rum.

  “Then go tell Truth.”

  “He ain’t here either,” Honey Dew said. “He been gone for a minute. I seen him drive off with Mizz Salida in G’s car.”

  “C’mon, man,” he shrugged her hand off his shoulder. “Y’all nasty bitches need to quit balling shit up and throwing it down the damn toilets! Y’all can’t be flushing ya wigs and drawers and shit down them lil-ass holes and expect them things not to back up on you.”

  “It ain’t us!” Honey Dew protested. “The pipes is just bad up in here! Now can you come unclog some of these nasty shitters so the hoes can pee and wipe they asses and get back to work?”

  “Damn.” Pluto brewed inside. The last thing he wanted to do was fuck around with some nasty toilets. He wasn’t no goddamn maintenance man, and he wasn’t feeling the G-Spot like that to be sticking his hands down in no shitty toilet water.

  He finished his drink, and then went to the supply closet to grab a plunger and a plumber’s snake. He hit every bathroom in the club and all kinds of foul shit sloshed up outta the pipes.

  He went to take care of the bathroom in G’s office last, and since it shared a line with the toilets in the stripper’s dressing room, he knew there was gonna be a bunch of shit down in those pipes too.

  But when he opened the office door all he saw was creamy cooch and glistening ass-crack. Salida was on top of G’s desk butt-ass naked. She was propped up on her elbows with her legs spread wide and her head thrown back.

  Ace’s bag of Burger King was on G’s desk but he damn sure wasn’t eating it. Instead, his manz was leaning over the end of the desk puttin’ in work. Salida’s caramel ass was cradled in that niggah’s hands, and his tongue stuck out a country mile as he licked out every inch of that bitch’s snatch.

  “Sssss…” Salida hissed and gyrated as Ace rotated his head and probed up in her tunnel. “Lips and tongue, you son-of-a-bitch,” she bossed his ass. “Get it with your lips and tongue…”

  Pluto was straight fuckin’ disgusted by the wet, lapping sounds his boy’s mouth made as he slurped Salida’s pussy like it was a juicy piece of fruit.

  Neither one of them noticed him standing there watching, and before he could move Ace stood up and yanked down his pants. He grabbed his thick meat, then pushed Salida down flat on the desk and rammed it into her raw, causing the older woman to scream in pleasure as he dug over ten years worth of cobwebs outta her wet hole.

  “Oooh! Fuck me!” Salida screamed and squeezed her plump, perfect titties. “Fuck me, you troll! Fuck me, you fat, ugly mothafucka!”

  She lifted her long, beautiful legs high in the air, then brought them down and wrapped them tightly around Ace’s back. “Fuck this pretty-pretty, you ape-ass, bitch! Beat it up! Fuck it right! I said fuck it right, goddammit!”

  “Chump muh’fucka!” Pluto muttered as he stepped fully into the office and headed toward the bathroom. Ace jumped and stood up. His dick fell outta Salida with a loud sucking noise, and Pluto made sure the toilet plunger brushed against his manz ass as he passed by.

  “Ay, what the fuck!” Ace barked. “Nigga you can’t knock first?”

  Pluto smirked as he slid his eyes over Ace’s shoulder and copped a peek at Salida’s fat, glistening pussy.

  “Knock for what, man? I’m on the job, muh’fuckah! You digging ya head up in a shit hole and I’m about to dig my hand up in one.”

  Pluto walked into the bathroom and slammed the door on the loud curses that were falling outta Salida’s grimy mouth. Shit was starting to make a whole lot more sense now. Yeah, now he knew why Ace was always so amped on every stupid thing that came outta 7:30’s mouth.

  He couldn’t believe some of the shit his boy Ace was talking these days. He couldn’t believe his manz was boning G’s conniving old bitch neither, and Pluto wondered what other grimy secrets that niggah had been hiding from him too.

  CHAPTER 6

  The last 24 hours had been mad crazy and I was dog-ass tired, but that didn’t stop Flex from trying to talk me to death.

  “You hungry, Juicy?” he asked me. “I ain’t no cook but I had my boy pick up some grub cause I know how shitty they be feeding you in the joint.”

  We went back in the kitchen where he pulled all kinds of good stuff out the fridge. There was Chinese food, deep fried shrimp, a whole sausage pizza, and some hot wings with blue cheese dressing. We piled our plates up and he put mine in the microwave first, and once it was
hot he put his in next.

  “What you wanna drink? I got come Corona, some Olde E, apple juice, quarter waters, and a Sprite.”

  “Sprite.”

  We took our plates out to the living room, and Flex started reminiscing about how good shit used to be when we were growing up.

  “Our block was always on jam, man,” he said all excited. His eyes lit up like he was reliving his childhood. “Your grandmother used to have some crazy rent parties! She would tell me and Jimmy to stay in the backroom, and our bad asses would sneak out in the kitchen and try to eat up all the food!”

  “She used to whip the hell outta y’all too!” I laughed. “But Jimmy didn’t care. That boy was hardheaded and he could take an ass whipping. It didn’t matter how much she tore him up, he still did whatever he wanted to do.”

  “Yeah he did,” Flex nodded. “I remember that day he threw your cat Fay-Fay out the window.”

  “Fee-Fee!” I screamed. “Her name was Fee-Fee!”

  “Yeah, Fee-Fee. That wasn’t the first time he threw her ass out there, you know. He had tossed her down a couple of times before and ain’t nothing happen. He couldn’t understand why she just upped and died that last time, man. It was crazy.”

  “Jimmy was crazy,” I said softly, missing my brother so, so much.

  “Did you know our mothers used to run the streets together back in the day?” he asked. “Probably before we could even remember?”

  I nodded. “I think I remember hearing that. My grandmother might have told me.”

  “Yeah, they did. They got high together and sold pussy too. Our families was tight like that. That’s why it hurt me so bad when I heard your grandmother had passed. I tried to give you some sympathy at her funeral but G had you locked up tight. I couldn’t even get close to you.”

  I shrugged. G had been a big blocker, so I wasn’t surprised.

  “You know, a lot of bad shit happened to me in Harlem, but I came back strong,” Flex bragged. “Even after I got shot. The game went into a tailspin after you left. The leadership was gone, and hungry niggahs was tryna come up left and right. It was dog-eat-dog out there, man. Click-kill-click. But the strong survived, and now,” he said proudly, “I just about own Harlem, girl. I got my hand on a good half of that town. I don’t even go up around our old way that much no more, but I’m still runnin’ things.”

  Good for you, I wanted to say. But instead I said, “Yeah, I heard shit got crazy. I also heard Cooter got killed. I ran into his sister on Rikers and she told me he was gone.”

  Flex got quiet, and his bony shoulders seemed to sag.

  “Yo, that was my dude, man,” he shook his head. “Next to Jimmy, he was my closest dog. And they fucked him up. All he was doing was tryna pick up a few leads so he could get put down on some action. And them niggahs pounced on him.”

  Flex swiped one hand down his face slowly, then said, “I got them fools, though. My dude Cooter caught a bad one, but I paid them niggahs back five times as bad. That’s why don’t nobody out there wanna go head up with me now, Juicy. I let it be known that if you fuck with me and my team, you and yours is getting straight smashed. And that’s word.”

  I just looked at him. Flex was young and dumb. He was just like Jimmy had been. Real young, and real damn dumb. All that drug drama and street commotion reminded me of how much I had hated the thought of my brother grinding in the streets for G.

  Except, G was way smoother with his flow than Flex could ever be. At forty-six, G had been cruel, callous, and ruthless, but he wasn’t harsh, or gutter, or grimy with his game like a lot of these young hoods were. G had had a lethal, icy cool that it was gonna take Flex, no matter how fly he dressed or how many niggahs he popped, at least another thirty years of hard-knock living to perfect.

  I looked down at all the food on my plate. I had piled on enough to feed two grown men, but I was full after just a few mouthfuls.

  “You got some foil?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “I’m too tired to finish.”

  Flex set his plate down and jumped to his feet.

  “My bad, Juicy. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Damn, girl, I gotta remember you’s a lady. You probably tired, huh? A’ight,” he said, taking my plate and pulling me to my feet and back toward his bedroom. “I’ma let you get some sleep, baby, okay? The sheets are silk, girl. Fresh out the pack, a hunnid percent, word. You wanna take a hot bath? I put some nice shit for you in the bathroom, so go for it. There’s warm towels, some of that bubble shit, baby powder, lotion, a couple of them fancy-type pajamas…everything is for you, Juicy. I still love the shit outta you, ma, and every single thing up in this bitch is for you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Ease up,” Monique whispered and pushed two fingers against Bilal’s sweaty forehead. She didn’t know who the hell had taught his young ass how to eat pussy but they’d taught him all wrong. He was too damn rough, pressing his whole face into her stuff and making her clit sore.

  “Softer,” she instructed him as he dipped his face back into her warmth again. Almost every young boy who grinded for the G-Spot crew needed to be schooled on how to fuck, and Monique was just the right teacher.

  She thrust her pelvis forward and pulled Bilal by his dreadlocks as she rubbed herself on his face. This time his lips were pleasing and his tongue was nice and wet as he went back to work, licking and sucking the way she liked it.

  Monique let him eat her out for a while, and then she turned the tables and went to work on him. His young ass didn’t know what had hit him. He couldn’t do shit with all them titties and that beastly ass she was packing on her, and he was moaning and trembling as Mo put some of her specialty moves down on him until she had him weak and soft, exactly the way she wanted him.

  She soaked his dick in her mouth and then gave him a slippery hand job that made his young ass start speaking in tongues. Then she climbed on top of him and rode him half to death, slamming her bomb body down on him hard enough to crack his raging nut.

  But instead of letting him cum, Monique jumped off the boy and stretched out next to him. She ran her wet tongue around the lobe of his ear while her fingers twirled his erect nipples and she threw her ham-hock thigh over his groin.

  “I need you to do something for me, B,” she whispered hotly in his ear. “You take care of me, and I’ll keep on taking real good care of you too.”

  As hard as the boy’s dick was there was no way in hell he could resist. He was totally whipped by Monique’s scent and her sexy skills, and he would have agreed to murk his own mama if it meant he could slide his throbbing dick back inside her wetness just one more time.

  Monique giggled as he turned into a soft puddle of pudding in her hands. She whispered her request in his ear, and told him how happy it would make her if he would handle this one little favor for her.

  Bilal groaned and quickly agreed, and when Monique climbed back on top of him and he saw those beautiful black titties, tight waist, and the shapeliest hips in the world bucking up and down on top of him, making Mo happy became the only thing in the world he wanted to do.

  CHAPTER 8

  Flex woke up the next morning feeling like a million dollars. Just knowing Juicy was sleeping right next door had kept him on buzz all night. He got out of bed and stood in the middle of the floor holding his dick. His eyes slid toward the wall that separated their rooms and his manhood throbbed with need.

  For damn near all his life he had been fantasizing hard about Juicy. And right now, as he almost penetrated the wall with his x-rated, x-ray vision, he could just picture her laid up over there in his bed with those big, luscious titties and sexy round hips.

  The good thing was, he didn’t even have to use his imagination. All he had to do was rewind the tape on the cameras that he had set up all around his crib, and he could see whatever he wanted to see for himself.

  He had been so happy to be around her last night that he’d shot his mouth off a mile a minute while they sat around eating dinner. He didn�
��t shut up until she started yawning, and by then he’d almost talked her into the ground.

  Juicy had gone into the master bathroom to take a bath, and Flex had stood outside the door listening to the water run and hoping she liked all the stuff he’d gotten for her. He had tried to think of everything, and he hoped she appreciated that shit because none of it was slum.

  At first he had started to take one of his local guttersnipe bitches with him to shop for her, but then he realized that none of the chicks he rolled with would know how to properly adorn a queen like Juicy.

  He pictured her sitting up on that stool in the G-Spot wearing the latest designer dresses and rocking icy diamonds out the ass. None of his chickens had ever flown that high, so he ended up going shopping all by himself at Neiman Marcus, trusting his own instincts and picking out finery that he thought would be good enough for her. He’d dropped a gwap in that joint without even blinking, and from the black silk panties to the classy lingerie set with the low-cut, flared-leg night pants, everything he got was high quality and befitting a jewel as precious as Juicy was.

  Flex went over to a cabinet and rewound the video that had been downloaded during the night. He selected the camera from the bathroom, and gripped himself as she popped up on the screen.

  Juicy was a fuckin’ princess. From her head to her toes she was like royalty to him, and he didn’t even look as she sat down on the toilet and peed. Watching her do that type of thang was just too disrespectful and she deserved more than that.

  But he did watch Juicy wash her pussy in the bathtub, and he sighed and stroked his dick at the beautiful sight of her naked ass and titties before she put on her pajamas.

  Flex remembered the day he’d gotten a call from Pluto saying G was inviting him and his boys to come by the Spot and get some of Juicy’s pussy for free. He’d almost blown his top when he went downstairs in that basement and saw his jewel beaten down and chained up like a mangy dog. As much as he had envied and imitated G, at that moment Flex’s hatred for Harlem’s number one kingpin had become eternal.