by Tracy Brown
Crystal spread her legs wider, ready to feel him inside of her. She shifted excitedly, desperate for him now.
Troy thrust himself inside of her. He lifted her up and down, sliding her along the length of his dick as deep as she would allow him to go. Crystal cried out, filled to capacity with Troy. He pounded her, at times hard and rough, and then slower, grinding himself inside her with his hips. Crystal clung to his back, winding herself on him, moaning from the depth of her gut. Pleasure and pain met in exquisite synchronicity as he lost himself, fucking Crystal against the wall, pushing into her while his hands dug into her thighs.
“Oh … my…” She never finished the sentiment. Her voice trailed off, her teeth sank into his shoulder, and her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as she erupted again.
Troy carried her to the bed and placed her on top of it. He spread her legs wide, and stroked her swollen folds. Tender to the touch, Crystal jumped at the sensation he caused. Mercifully, he stroked her gently with his fingers, sliding them in and out of her slowly, erotically, massaging her. She relaxed, her legs parted. He rolled over, and pulled her on top of him.
Crystal urged him back against the bed, straddling him. He grew even harder with the weight of her on top, doing her best to accommodate as much of his massive dick as she could. He patiently held her hips and stroked her back as she took more of him in with each stroke.
“Damn,” he breathed. She clung to him, inside and out. He fought the urge to explode inside her. He wanted to see how far she could go.
Crystal’s breath quickened as she writhed on top of him. Leaning back on the palms of her hands, fingers splayed behind her in a pose that would have made her yoga instructor proud, she rode him. Pushing her hips against Troy, her legs quivered each time she thrust forward. She wanted more of him than her body was willing to stand.
She could see that he was loving it. Troy’s grunts and growls urged her on. Finally, spent, she pulled herself off of him, the soreness he left behind throbbing as an unnecessary reminder of his power.
She knelt forward on all fours, her ass in the air, and took him into her mouth. Tilting her head to the side, she sucked him, determined to take more of him into her mouth than she had managed to get inside of her.
Troy’s head fell back against the mountain of pillows on his bed. Her mouth felt so warm, wet, and juicy. Her hands roamed his body, her touch erotically soft and delicate. With one firm hand, she stroked him up and down with the rhythm of her mouth. He watched her, the sight of his manhood sliding down her throat too much for him to stand for long. He broke forth in her mouth, spilling over down her chin, dripping onto her lovely neck.
FREE-FALLING
Troy knew that he was in too deep with Crystal. She consumed his thoughts when they weren’t together. And at moments like this when they were, he wished he could stop the clock and make time stand still. He was falling for her, hard and fast. And he knew it. Something about it felt right. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something different and oddly intoxicating about her. Hers had been a slow seduction that he never saw coming. He felt safe with her. Like he could let down his guard. That was what he was doing now as he answered her question about his uncle.
Troy sighed. “The organization my uncle runs is basically a halfway house for newly released inmates. He really does find them housing and employment. That much is true.” He looked at Crystal. “But, really, it’s just a way for him to account for the money he gets illegally.”
“Where does the money really come from? Guns, drugs?”
Troy shook his head. “That’s a question I never bothered to ask. At the end of the day, to be honest I don’t really care.”
“It sounds like your brother thinks your father is a hypocrite.”
Troy nodded.
“In a way he is, though.” Crystal stroked his arm.
He frowned.
“You both are, really.” She saw the confused look on his face. “Your brother makes money in the streets and you don’t. So you think that makes you innocent?”
Something in Troy’s expression shifted, but she kept going.
“You want to know what I think?” she asked.
Troy hesitated before finally nodding.
“You speak about your uncle and your brother as if they’re the only ones whose hands are dirty. But you’re not as squeaky-clean as you think. You reap the rewards of having a thug for a big brother. Having an uncle who runs Harlem. A father whose name opens certain doors in certain circles … all of that works in your favor. And, then you get to grandstand and poke your chest out because you’re the ‘good son.’ The one who gets all the benefits without incurring all the risk.”
Troy stared back at her in silence. Her words stung.
“I know guys like Wes,” she said, rubbing her hand across Troy’s bare chest. “I grew up around them. Guys who use their size and their power to intimidate other people.” She cupped his face in her hands. Staring down at him, she inhaled his scent. “I know men like your father, too. The ones who think the rules should apply to everybody except them. And men like you,” she said, “who look so unblemished in the public eye. But behind closed doors, they’re the most dangerous of them all.”
She smiled widely, her eyes twinkling.
He laughed at that assessment. “Dangerous?” he repeated. “Is that what you think I am?” He pulled her closer, his hands cupping her ass beneath the sheets.
She squealed.
“There’s nothing dangerous about me,” he said. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
She traced his lips with her fingers. “I wouldn’t let you.”
* * *
Troy slept soundly on his back, his chest rising and falling slowly with each contented breath. Crys snored lightly, her head on his chest, one arm spread out across his body. With their legs intertwined, they lay tangled together after a blissful night of lovemaking, conversation, and room service. Crys had gotten answers, for better or worse, and had gone to sleep content in his arms. She thought she was dreaming when her cell phone began to vibrate on the bedside table. It took a while before the sound of it stirred her from her dream.
She looked at the caller ID. Vanessa. She looked over at Troy, alarmed. He was still asleep. Crystal looked at the time. It was 8:41 A.M.
She slipped out of bed, and ducked into the bathroom. She locked the door, and climbed into the empty bathtub, pulling the shower door shut as if doing so created a soundproof barrier of some sort. The last thing she wanted was for Troy to wake up.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Crystal?” Vanessa sounded like she was crying.
She answered in the same hushed whisper. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’m in a meeting. Is everything okay?”
Vanessa was definitely crying. Crystal could hear her sniffling.
“Troy is cheating on me. I know he is.”
Crystal shut her eyes, and chided herself for answering.
“Calm down, Vanessa. What happened?”
“He stayed out last night. Now he’s not answering my calls.”
“Listen, it could be anything. Don’t jump to conclusions.” Crystal leaned her head against the bathroom wall. She heard Troy moving around in the suite. She climbed out of the shower, still whispering. “You think he’s hurt?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa whined.
Crystal squeezed her eyes shut. “Let me call you back after my meeting. Okay?”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Vanessa said. “I just don’t have anybody else I can talk to.”
Crystal felt lower than before. “It’s no problem,” she lied. “I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
She hung up the phone, and cursed under her breath.
When she emerged, Troy was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He greeted her with a smile on his face so wide that it made her smile, too. She walked over and he pulled her close.
“I wish I could stay right here with you
all day.”
She lay beside him propped up on one elbow. “Why can’t you? My schedule is clear for once.”
He pouted. “Dru is forcing me to meet with those same investors I introduced you to at his party. Today’s the day they cut the big checks. I can’t get out of it.”
“Congratulations. What time is your meeting?”
“Three o’clock at my office. I should be finished by four thirty. I can come to Brooklyn after that.” He was anxious to get back in her arms again.
She thought about it. Maybe this was all going too far.
Troy seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m not in love with Vanessa.”
She looked at him.
“Running for office is my father’s chance to get his own identity. For years, he’s been tied to my uncle.” Troy thought about how he felt when he learned that his uncle’s drug money had financed his father’s businesses. That the seed money to start the family business had come from Uncle Don’s illegal dealings. Stuart Mitchell had started as a front for Uncle Don’s money. Money that had financed their rise from low-level street hustlers to power brokers, both in the entertainment industry and in the streets.
“My father needs me to play this game. To string her along for a while so he can stay close to her father.” He shook his head. “That’s all it is. I don’t love her. The only woman who has my attention right now is you.”
Crystal hated herself for believing him.
He left just after 10:00 A.M., and she didn’t wash his scent off right away. She lay in the bed until late checkout time, then rode home on the subway, still smelling him with every step she took.
She opened the door to her brownstone and knew right away that something wasn’t right. The house felt different, the energy somehow off. She walked into the kitchen and noticed that the toaster was positioned at an odd angle. She was compulsive about things like that and knew she would never have left it that way. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention and she grabbed a knife off the butcher block. Slowly, she stepped through her kitchen and into the adjoining dining room. Her heart pounded in her chest as two figures came into focus. One of them large and looming, his face set in a menacing scowl. The relief of recognition washed over her. Tyson. Her eyes darted to the man standing behind him, smiling.
She dropped everything.
“Daddy?”
Quincy smiled at his daughter. “Hey, Sydney.”
* * *
Vanessa stood by the door with her bags packed. Tears streamed down her face and Troy was pretending that he wanted her to stay.
“It’s too much,” she was saying. “It’s bad enough that things are shaky between us. But this whole thing with your brother. Now you’re staying out all night. We should just take a break for a while.”
“I told you what happened. I was drunk. Dru took me home, and let me crash on his couch. You can ask his wife.” Dru and his wife often lied for Troy, providing him with alibis for times like this.
“I know, but—”
“Listen.” Troy pulled her toward him. Reluctantly, she melted into his arms. “I’ve been distracted lately. You’re right. Work has my mind going in a million different directions at once. Wes is another headache. But I’m dealing with him.” He squeezed her tighter. “None of that has anything to do with how I feel about you. You’re my baby. We’re getting married. I fucked up last night. I shouldn’t have stayed out all night. But I was at Dru’s house. On his couch.” He kissed her forehead. “You’ve been thinking too much again. You know how you get.” He tickled her until she giggled. Once he saw her dimples, he knew he was back in.
He gave her his credit card and let her buy some new shoes. Then he hit her with the next swindle.
“I’m going out of town for a few days. I’ll be back on Sunday.”
She didn’t argue. That was the Vanessa he was used to. The one who didn’t challenge him, didn’t ask too many questions. Lately, that was changing. The engagement itself had come after Vanessa and her mother had applied the full-court press on him like they were basketball wives on steroids.
He packed a bag, kissed her good-bye, and headed for Brooklyn.
* * *
She dabbed at her eyes, overcome with emotion at the sight of her father. Free, unshackled, in his own clothes, and without the watchful gaze of guards. He was home. She hadn’t stopped smiling since she saw him.
“I still can’t believe you lied to me about your release date.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth.” He looked at his nephew Tyson. “I wanted to ride home with my nephew here and drop in unannounced.”
Tyson grunted. A large, looming presence, her cousin was a sight to behold. To say that he was the muscle of the family was putting it mildly. He was a man of few words. But he loved his favorite uncle Quincy.
“I listened to everything you told me while I was away. About your big brownstone in Brooklyn, and your fancy car, and all that. But I wanted to see how you’re really living.” He looked around. “I’m impressed, baby girl.”
She stared at him. “What happened, Daddy?” Her voice was small, like the little girl who wished she was brave enough to ask it years ago. “The whole story, I mean. The truth. What happened with the diamonds?”
Quincy looked at her and realized he had never been able to tell her. His phone calls, letters, and visits were closely monitored and recorded. For the first time, it truly hit him that he was free. He resisted the urge to cry and lit a cigarette instead.
He cleared his throat.
“You know I was hustling back then. I used to get money with this nigga and his crew uptown. Long story short, Don was doing his thing. He had the connect, and his boys were ruthless. They were into everything. Drugs, guns, breaking and entering, scams, you name it. Money!” He clapped his hands together for emphasis and flicked the ash from his cigarette into the plastic ashtray on the table.
“I used to fuck with them—” He looked at his daughter apologetically. “Pardon my language, baby girl. You know I been away a long time. That’s the way niggas talk in there.” His smile melted her heart.
She shook her head at him, laughing. “Please! You must not remember that I grew up with Aunt Pat.”
Quincy laughed. He remembered that his sister-in-law cursed like a drunken sailor. He couldn’t wait to see her again and catch up on all that he had missed.
“So, you used to fuck with this crew from uptown,” she reminded him.
Quincy chuckled, hearing her curse. She would always be his baby girl, even though she was turning twenty-nine this year.
“We was tight. Or so I thought. We used to party together, travel. Him and his wife, me and your mother. Anyway, one day, he came and told me about a hookup he had in Midtown. Some jewelry store. We could run up in there, get a couple of pieces, and be out. He had a guy who worked there. He was gonna buzz us in and he knew the owner would be there that day. The owner was the only one with the safe combination. That was where the good shit was. So, we mapped it out, made sure the guy on the inside was ready, and we did it. Just me and him. We got in there and we tell him what time it is … this is a robbery and all that. This muthafucka … the owner? He gonna tell the nigga to kiss his ass. He’s not opening the safe. The inside guy is trying to act like he don’t know us, because the plan was never for anybody to get hurt. At least not on my part.”
He paused and took a long drag of his cigarette. He had repeated these events in his mind so many times. Still, it was painful to say it all out loud.
“I’m watching the guy the whole time, telling him to do it or he’s gonna get hurt. I got my gun on him. The situation was under control.” He shook his head. “The nigga hits the guy in the face with his gun. Busts his face wide open. The guy is leaking all over the place. Now he’s scared. He’s sorry. He’s gonna give up the combination. He gives it up and I walk over to the safe, open it up, start pulling shit out. Next thing I know I hear a
shot.”
She felt like she was there. She tried to imagine how her father must have felt in those moments.
“Don shot the guy in the head. The guy was squirming, struggling to like … live.” Quincy shook his head. “Don shot him again. The guy on the inside—fucking Shu from uptown. Snitch nigga. Anyway, he started bugging out, spazzing. ‘Yo, what the fuck?’ Don is cool as a cucumber. He looked at me and was like, ‘Q, you got the shit?’ I nodded, and we got the fuck out of there.” He took one last drag on his cigarette and stomped it out in the ashtray.
“We got in the car and he was dead silent. I didn’t have nothing to say to him. Far as I was concerned, he was crazy. He didn’t have to kill that man. At the same time, I was there with him so there was only so much I could say. I knew I shouldn’t have been there. All day I kept feeling like I shouldn’t go.” He shook his head in regret over the one decision he wished he could go back and change. “Something in my gut was just like … it wasn’t right. I went anyway and now there was a fucking manhunt for the killers of an Orthodox Jew store owner in the Diamond District. Shit was hot. He dropped me off in Brooklyn and I thought he would come in and we would split it all up like usual. But when we got there, he was like, ‘You hold it, Q. I gotta go back to Manhattan. It’s gonna be hot. Just hold it. I’ll come get mine.’ And he left. That was the last time I seen Don.”
She stared at her father, anxious for him to continue. He sipped his Heineken before continuing.
“I couldn’t sleep that night. I stayed up, thinking. I felt like something wasn’t right. Don had fucked up, killed this man. Both of us were wanted for robbery. I woke your mother up early the next morning. I told her to pack as much of her shit in a little overnight bag as possible. I gave her a bunch of money and told her to go stay with your aunt and your grandmother in Staten Island until I came to get her.”
He recalled the look on Georgi’s face that morning. She looked afraid, but was doing her best to put on a brave face. She had taken the kids, the money, and the diamonds and gone into hiding.