Sex in the Hood Saga

by White Chocolate

  And her low-cut pants offered a succulent slice of smooth stomach and showed off the sparkling diamond in her pierced belly button. Black leather hugged her hips just low enough to flaunt her first tattoo, QUEEN OF THE KNIGHT, in Gothic script across her lower back.

  Yeah, this was the woman The Queen wanted to become. The woman who wasn’t scared anymore. Not scared of the mixed-race sex power that killed her mother, not scared of her black side, not scared of punk-ass thug wannabes like Flame here, trying to flex with his bad-boy talk.

  She glared into his eyes. “It’s your decision.” Her fingertips danced over the choker Knight had given her last night for their first anniversary. The diamonds scratched the back of her index finger as she underlined the thick gold block letters and said, “Read this,QUEEN, whether Duke or Knight is beside me. So you can do your job without the prima donna bitch routine, or leave Babylon.”

  “I ain’t eatin’ no more pussy.” He plopped down on the couch and crossed his arms. “That bitch out there stank!”

  “Babylon allows dental dams if both parties agree—”

  “Listen, ain’t no bitch gonna pay for me to lick her pussy through some plastic.” His gray eyes flashed with rage as he glared up at her.

  “You’re one of the highest paid Studs at Babylon. You can retire at forty and you’ll be well taken care of.”

  “I came to Babylon when Prince, Duke, and Knight was a team. And when Knight was down for a while, Duke was handlin’ it just fine. Even Milan with her twisted ass was takin’ care of bidness, but you—”

  “I’m in charge, period.”

  “Wish Duke was back.”

  “Duke could be dead for all we know, so get back to reality. And get back to work.”

  Flame shot to his feet. His nose touched The Queen’s nose, and his pussy breath steamed her lips. And his eyes burned with hostility as he glared into hers.

  “Step the fuck off.” The Queen pressed her fingertips into his shoulders.

  Flame grabbed her wrists. “I’m gon’ step the fuck in.” He twisted her around, bent her over, and grabbed her pants just over her ass.

  The Queen yanked her wrists, twisting them like Lee Lee had taught her in self-defense classes at the Babylon gym, but his grip was too tight. She stabbed her heels into his bare shins.

  “Bitch!” His fingertips scraped the soft skin at the base of her back, stinging her. “I’m gon’ cum all over that tattoo. See if you call yourself The Queen after I beat this shit up.” He dug under the waistband of her pants.

  “Stop!” she screamed. In an instant, she realized just how quickly shit could turn on her. Did Ping and Pong not hear me outside the door with that music blasting? Damn! I should’ve had them come inside. She had all the power, in the business sense of the word, but Flame was still a man with strong muscles and a pleasure stick that he could turn into a weapon against any woman he chose.

  Panic jolted The Queen’s every cell. This is some dangerous shit I’m into right now. Flame could rape me, kill me right now. But she loved it. And Knight would never let anything happen to her. “Let me go, or you’ll be swimmin’ in the Detroit River,” The Queen said with a deep, cool voice.

  He laughed. “Who gon’ stop me?”

  That soft voice inside her head, Celeste, spoke from the core of her woman power, Knight will stop you, muthafucka. Knight won’t let you harm a single hair on The Queen’s head.

  And then she heard his beautiful, bad-ass voice inside her head. I got your back, baby girl. Always.

  The Queen’s eyes widened, not from fear, but from complete faith. Knight had always said they were so deeply connected, soul to soul, that one day they’d communicate without talking or even being in the same room. And now it was happening. Her muscles suddenly relaxed. She was safe. She knew intuitively that Knight was on it.

  Flame pulled harder on her waistband. It yanked up into her gut, making an animal grunt escape her mouth. He leaned down to her ear and, with his pussy breath, said, “I’ll be doin’ Duke a favor for you turnin’ on him. He saved you, and you fucked him by fuckin’ his brother. You slut-ass bitch, you ’bout to get your due.”

  Chapter 60

  In the sleek, silver surveillance room that felt like the cockpit of a space ship, Knight Johnson watched Flame on the closed circuit TV security system. That nigga was about to get zapped for forgetting his place in the new Babylon, for speaking Li’l Tut’s name, and for daring to touch The Queen.

  Knight had to crack down on all renegade muthafuckas who interfered with the smooth operations of Babylon, both inside and out, coast to coast. ’Cause I’m a visionary with thirty days to Manifest Destiny as the boldest king of the universe, and nobody, nothing will stop me. Not Li’l Tut, not the gold diggin’ bitches, not the scheming gangstas, not my health, and not this testosterone crazed fool.

  A cold fist of pressure clenched Knight’s chest as he sat still as a statue in his high-backed, black leather chair at the wide silver console.

  “You think Knight gon’ save yo’ mixed-up ass?” Flame growled at The Queen. He bent her over. His huge dick swung up, ready to stab.

  “Now!” Knight commanded into the microphone on the console before him. The deep bass of his voice crackled on the line. He imagined his words shooting like lightning into Ping and Pong’s earpieces.

  In a flash, the two enormous men burst into the Champagne Room. With braids bouncing and huge, ninja black bodies moving as gracefully as quarterbacks, Ping and Pong each hooked a giant hand under Flame’s armpits then slammed him up against the wall.

  “Yeah, corral that buck wild muthafucka!” Knight said coolly. “Gerard, gimme a close up on The Queen.”

  Knight kept one eye on Flame and another eye on the monitor zooming in on The Queen. I gotcha back, baby girl.

  As if she had heard him, she looked into the camera hidden above the mirror, her blue blow-torch eyes burning straight through him with erotic power.

  His skin danced with tiny flames of love and lust that threatened to explode the pipe bomb between his legs. Yeah, Shane was about to blow from just looking at her deep-bronze face, the Cleopatra of the Knight tattoo curving over her swollen C-cups, and those two juicy bubbles of her ass under that baby-soft black leather.

  Knight let one hand fall to the heat blast in his lap. All that was for her, and tonight he’d make it official for life with a diamond engagement ring.

  “Don’t that crazy MF see they guns?” Paul exclaimed as Flame kicked each of the Barriors’ chests. “He seen too many Jackie Chan flicks.”

  “Dang! He strong,” Gerard said, “must be on somethin’.”

  Flame broke free. He screamed, “Bitch!” and charged The Queen.

  With a shocked expression, she spun to face him, and the screen went black.

  That pressure fist of stress squeezed Knight’s chest. “Get her back,” he ordered Gerard.

  The slim, freckled dude with an auburn “twist” hairstyle, turned knobs and pushed buttons. “Queen on camera three,” Gerard squeaked.

  She appeared, eyes glowing with terror, chest rising and falling with panicky breaths. Ping and Pong slammed Flame into the wall. He slid down and crumpled to the floor.

  Knight spoke into the mic, “Send that muthafucka south of the border,” then stood slowly.

  He wore black jeans, cowboy boots with silver tips on the pointed toes, a big silver belt buckle that said KNIGHT, a brown suede leather jacket with fringe, and a matching cowboy hat. As his six foot, seven inches of brawn rose up, he felt pumped with all the cowboy machismo he’d loved watching on all those western movies he’d studied as a boy. He even stood with his knees slightly bowed and his huge hands at his sides, like he could double-draw and blow away ten outlaws at once.

  He took one step toward Gerard. “Why the fuck did that monitor just black out?” Knight’s words electrified the cool air.

  The men and women in the room froze.

  “I-I-I-I’m sorry, B-b-b-boss Knight.”
Gerard’s eyes grew huge. His bushy eyebrows raised up, making stress lines on his forehead. “S-s-s-sos-s-sorry—”

  “Sorry don’t do CPR if some shit goes down. Sorry don’t excuse the fact that you were supposed to test every monitor in Babylon before the parties tonight. Did you?”

  Gerard’s lips flapped well before any sound came out. “N-n n-na, b-b-boss,” Gerard said. “I was so busy riggin’ Hummer One wit’ the new n-n-navigation system—”

  Knight’s eyes were as lethal as six shooters. He blasted a disgusted glare at the man who’d helped him secretly slip back into Babylon and take over a year ago. “Now,” Knight lowered his voice to reverberate a new work ethic into this muthafucka. “If I find out you were having your sex addicted dick sucked instead of handling our top priority here at Cairo,” Knight paused then yelled, “Security!”

  Gerard jumped, his lips trembling.

  “Then you’ll get jacked so bad, even your dick will be in a Mummy wrap.Then you’ll be able to concentrate.”

  Paul, who sat on the other side of Gerard, ran a hand over his thick black beard and exhaled. He turned to Knight. “Boss Knight, man, I can vouch for Gerard.” Paul’s narrow, dark eyes glowed with concern. “He’s been workin’ his tail off, getting ready for tonight and The Games.”

  Knight shot him a hard look. “Nobody works as hard as I do. And if the greatest among us can be a servant to all, then the servants need to strive to be the greatest they can be too.” Knight loved the way his words sounded so clear and clean, thanks to his crash course on the King’s English while in prison. “That means you, Gerard!”

  Gerard shuddered.

  Paul shook his head. “All due respect, Boss Knight, but don’t nobody else have yo’ superhuman powers. The rest of us need sleep. We make mistakes—”

  “Don’t nobody else? That’s a double negative. Say, ‘nobody else.’”

  Paul stood, making his chair shoot back and bump the console beside a B’Amazon. “I’ll be straight wit’ you, Boss Knight, no doubt, you’re king of Babylon, but a lotta folks feel like you done got too righteous . . . power-trippin’.”

  Knight respected Paul’s courage to speak up. His childhood buddy had always called Knight out on himself.

  “My power trippin’ has always been a good thing for you.”

  Paul shook his head. “You goin’ overboard, Boss Knight. Folks say you paranoid, moody, unpredictable. That’s why we’re on red alert half the time. Folks be tryin’ to strike back, make it like it was under Duke; relaxed, and without all these new rules.”

  The tension in the room felt like a vise around Knight’s chest. Hearing them speak of Li’l Tut with longing in their voices created a tight sensation in his throat. But he would not allow these inferior-minded followers who lacked his discipline and vision to block his noble mission. So he imagined his eyes were like flame throwers, casting fiery stares down on Paul and Gerard that would singe them into submission.

  This situation required Knight’s big brother’s unwritten rules of domination. The Prince Code said, Say as few words as possible. Less is more.

  So he said nothing. He just let them know, with his eyes, that their asses were on probation right now. One more wrong move and they would be royally fucked up.

  Knight turned his back to them then did a 360 glance around the room to check on every monitor. Gotta keep an eye on everything my damn self. Can’t trust these sneaky muthafuckas who might be scheming with Li’l Tut or Moreno to take what’s mine. The dizzying array of pictures and the enormity of all he had to keep in check made his chest squeeze harder. He struggled to inhale against the pressure. Especially when he looked at the red metal panel that controlled the emergency mechanisms that would turn this ten-story building into a fortress, complete with a flaming moat and rooftop snipers. We ready to rock.

  Knight coughed. One more month couldn’t pass soon enough, so he could Houdini himself and The Queen into a new life. Like magic, they would vanish, and there’d be so much smoke and confusion, nobody would notice until they were already relaxing on a Caribbean island. Had to keep his plan under wraps from The Queen, too, because her nymphomaniac, sweet self was loving every pussy-throbbing second of their orgasmic lifestyle here in Babylon. Knight’s dick would stay as hard and heavy as lead. Shane can lay a lifetime of pipe inside my Queen to make up for any thrills she thinks she’s missing away from here.

  Yeah, his top-secret plan, called “Manifest Destiny,” gave him one month from right now to bank fifty million. Five parties a week like this in ten cities across America, then The Games, and the sale of Babylon to Jamal, and it was a done deal—if all this bullshit don’t kill me first.

  Knight’s heart hammered so hard, he felt his heartbeat to the rhythm of the Bang Squad’s funky bass from the party on The Playroom floor above. These physical symptoms made Knight believe that his body was responding to the growing pains that Babylon was experiencing, thanks to the combined brilliance and business savvy of himself and The Queen.

  Over the past year, they’d expanded their erotic empire to cities across the country. They were raking in huge bank, controlling thousands of Sluts and Studs. Plus they were collecting even more dough from the personal protection services and security details that the Barriors and B’Amazons were providing for musicians, athletes, and politicians, as well as sporting events, concerts, and rallies.

  He scanned the video screens that showed Babylon parties all across the country. They also showed the outside of this building, a ten-story tower of sandblasted brick and tall, multi-paned windows. In front, the building faced a street and many abandoned buildings here in the uninhabited warehouse district. A wooden bridge for cars rose over the ten-foot-wide stream that formed a horseshoe of water around the building’s expansive lawn, the circular driveway that was now crammed with limos. The horseshoe-shaped stream created a security moat, because its ends flowed into the river, where boats bobbed in Babylon’s private marina.

  Still more cameras also provided video for entryways, hallways, and the vault on the third floor. Another bank of monitors provided twenty-four-hour surveillance for the tropical-style swimming pool and jacuzzis, the auditorium, and the game rooms. Some important zones, like the tunnels, were deliberately not wired with cameras. No evidence, no knowledge, no problem.

  Other screens showed Babylon’s headquarters, about two miles from here. The building was similar, but it stood in the middle of the hood. Next door was the Cape Cod style house, where the Johnson brothers had grown up. The vacant lots, broken glass, and abandoned cars were cleaned up on Babylon Street, where soldiers patrolled the sidewalks to keep children, grandmothers and everybody else safe.

  Right now, a VIP rap concert after party was rocking HQ. Cameras showed the apartments, the Penthouse that Knight shared with The Queen, the corporate offices, and the gym. Other video screens showed the entire first floor, called The Garage. The football field sized, three-story room was wall to wall sex. Every dick and pussy in there, represented thousands of dollars. Bank that could only be trusted with Big Moe.

  Knight dialed his top lieutenant. “Still rainin’ hard?”

  Big Moe answered with his soft Jamaican lilt, “Yeah, mon, some shade cleaned out wit’ my special sunshine.” That meant he’d had some problems but wielded the appropriate influence to check the niggas.

  Big Moe’s deep laughter made Knight smile. He didn’t even need the details. He just knew the problem was fixed. “Twenty-five an’ comin’,” Big Moe said.

  Knight had projected a two hundred thousand dollar profit at that party, so the prosperity gods were smiling down with an extra fifty grand. But the bigger Babylon got, the longer the list of suspects grew.

  As he hung up, Knight’s chest clenched as his mind ticked down a list of muthafuckas who were scheming to usurp power as boldly as he’d taken this exotic underworld from Li’l Tut a year ago. I know that was him who called me. Right now, tiny needles of pain assaulted his heart, as they had
since earlier today when that sinister voice had shot through his phone.

  Knight inhaled as deeply as when he meditated every morning and night. All that fresh oxygen expanded his muscular belly, filled his lungs, and amped his brain to superhuman intelligence and intuition. This power resulted from all the reading, studying, and meditation he had done in prison to tap into the infinite powers in his mind, body, and spirit. Now he could use those powers to build his Babylonian dynasty with his Queen.

  Knight rested a giant hand on his crotch, discreetly massaging Shane as he watched The Queen return to the party. Their combined sex power was another secret to their success in expanding Babylon nationwide. With tantric sex visualizations, they practiced tuning into each other’s thoughts, so that they could communicate without words. They also concentrated on mental pictures of their dreams as they reached orgasm. That allowed the most powerful energy in their bodies, to fuel their dreams into reality.

  That was all part of a year long training for The Queen to become as big and bad as Knight, even though she didn’t always know when he was putting her through a drill. Like tonight, this bullshit with Flame was a test for her, to see how she’d handle it, to test her trust and her toughness.

  On the screen, she walked through the party with a new expression. Her eyes were hard; her chest was still rising and falling from her brush with terror.

  Good. He’d scared some reality into her for a hot minute. Because even though The Queen had toughened up over the past twelve months, her sheltered upbringing had blessed and cursed her by making her naïve. It was a blessing in that she was oblivious to the real danger of her life here in Babylon; a curse, because it might be too easy for a bitch or a nigga to get over on her. So a few split seconds of the gritty low-down with Flame’s animal instincts would get her primed to happily accept Manifest Destiny when the time was right.