All the Kings Men, page 13
Pulling back, I gave her space and pointed behind me with my thumb. “Want me to continue to talk about what I used to do or didn’t do in the joint or…”
“Mali, don’t play with me,” Tasha stated in a sexy manner.
Her hand had found my arm. I glanced down at her then watched her shift to where her fingers began tracing the tattoo markings that ran down my spine. “We can talk, and you can do you while I do me.”
Curious, my brow shot up when I watched her take off her robe, then move in front me. Down she went and in a swift smooth move, and down my sweatpants went until my dick was nuzzled in her warm suctioning mouth. The skill that she did that, made me appreciate all of her. My head dropped back, my tongue ran over my lip, then I bit it as I looked at random shit in her kitchen.
“Damn,” I groaned low.
There was nothing but the sound of her moans and slurping. My Johnson was hardening from it and my hand found a way into her thick hair. Fingers lost in it, making it come out of its buns, I took a wide stance as she worked her magic and tried to milk me. Tasha was damn good with this skill.
As I took her offering, my mind began to wander. I almost was about to ask where she learned it, but I didn’t want to go in that type of zone. But who the fuck taught her how to do this so well? Was it KD? I still had doubts about that bullshit story she told me. How in the fuck did she know how to use her fucking mouth so well?
Thighs tightening, breath hitching, I gave a low chuckle and pulled out of her mouth. I pull her up to stand. “I need a rubber,” I said searching her eyes. My thumb and forefinger held her chin, then I used the pad of my thumb to trace her lips.
“Okay…I’ll be back.” Tasha ran out the kitchen so fast, I chuckled.
“I know you will,” was all I said, as I followed where she ran, only to stop in the dining room.
The sound of her banging around stopped, and then I watched her come back to me. Tasha had taken off her pants and was gifting me with being in nothing but her tank and white panties. My gaze focused on the space between her thighs, at the moistness seeping through her panties. What a world this is, I thought.
“Come here, Skittles,” was all I said.
“We really going to do this?” she asked.
Hand on my dick, I tilted my head to the side, and gave her a look. “You bout to say no or something? Cus if not, then fuck yeah we about to do this.” Tasha gave me a laugh, and I walked up on her. My hand reached around her waist and pulled her to me so that she was on her toes. I stared her in the eyes, felt our noses brush, then I spoke low against her lips, “Yeah, we about to do this.”
Claiming her mouth, I walked her backwards. Her table was perfectly in position. I lifted her around my waist and sat her on it. Tasha didn’t weigh shit to me. It was like lifting a pillow or something. But I jigged to the way her legs quickly went around my waist. I felt her calf push down my sweats, but I stopped her.
I learned reciprocity in prison and learned to enjoy the art of it, so that’s what I was about to do for Tasha. Laying her back, I played with that moist thin strip between her legs. Mama was groomed, which was a new experience for me. I hooked my finger against her clit, rubbed up and down, then pulled her panties to the side.
Mama twisted her hips on the table, and I learned something else, for the first time; going slow had its rewards. I dropped down then kissed her wetness, found that her pussy lips felt like pillows. They felt just as soft and plush as the set on her face, and it pushed the nasty motherfucker in me out. I went in, curled my tongue around her clit, slid two fingers inside of her and had her singing tunes.
Every move I made against her was like something I hadn’t experienced and pushed me to making her react how I liked, over and over. Until finally I couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing for the gold packages she got me, I ripped open the condom, and slid it on.
Looking down at her, I licked my lips and positioned myself. “You missed me. I can see it.” Dick in hand, my other lifted her on the table then I positioned myself to take my head to her clit, sliding up and down until I got that wetness that I was enjoying to saturate it.
Her silky moan, mixed in with my grunt when I slid into her. I bared my teeth then hit her with a rhythm she wasn’t ready for, one that had her about to come instantly.
“Oh, shit…more like waiting on you.” Tasha’s eyes were half-mast.
“The wait is over, Jaded…Tasha.”
When I slid my hand against her neck then squeezed, pushing in and out of her as if I were slow winding, her moans intensified. The shit hit something primal in me that made me want to take her like a crazed animal. The way our bodies slapped, how her ass hit the surface of the table in its fleshy and wet manner was sexy as fuck. I knew my skills were fitting her just right, especially when she turned for me. Like her fingers traced my tats, my scars, I did the same to her.
The pads of my fingers were careful with what I knew had to be sensitive skin. I knew because she flinched the moment I turned her and saw where her skin had healed. I had no words for the marks of war, her survival on her back. All I had was my touch, my rising fury at what was done to her, and that’s what I gave her.
“Please…” I heard her say. Her body was trembling, and it wasn’t from the sex we were having. “Turn me around. It’s ugly.”
I stopped touching her, to ease out and listen to her request. It felt like the hardest thing that I’d ever had to do and a big part of me wanted to ignore her request, but doing that wasn’t in me, so I stopped.
“You’re not ugly,” I told her. “Nothing about you or on you is ugly.”
The loss of heat from her was killing my mood. I stepped out of my pants. My thighs were sticky and still taut. My dick slick with her wetness.
“Where are you going?” I heard her ask.
“To sit on this couch, Skittles. You had me ready to work overtime and now my legs need to chill,” I explained. “I also want to check you out, because I don’t see nothing ugly in front me.”
“Can’t we just look at each other? You don’t need to see my back.” There was that uncertainty.
I rolled my shoulders as this went on. My mood was dampening. “Like I said. I want to see all of you. I’m not tripping off your back in the way you think I am.”
“It’s fucked up,” she started.
“And that shit doesn’t affect me. Jaded…” I couldn’t help myself. Calling her Jaded just came natural to me. “I’ve seen shit like you won’t believe. Fuck, I plan on putting the same type of scars and worse, on our enemies.”
“That’s not the same,” she said shaking her head. Her gaze traveled over my body, stopping at each mark I’d received. Her shoulders slumped and she looked down. “I just ruined this, huh?”
“Only if you don’t trust my word and let me get back to making you come,” I stated then exhaled. Rubbing my thighs, I motioned. “Come here, Skittles.”
From how she looked, I knew that she was thinking better of it. “I’m going to go shower.”
“Jaded! Come the fuck here, now and sit facing me.” I leaned on my thighs held out my hand. “I don’t know how to do the tender shit anymore, but I’m going to work it out as best as I can, okay?”
“Fine,” was all she said.
I watched her get up and studied how her titties slightly bounced. They were full and a little heavy. Proportioned perfectly with her frame. Her tawny skin was slightly glowing. I liked how prominent her curves were and thick her thighs were. Jaded was that softness with feminine hardness I yearned for and when she stood in between my thighs I stored the view to memory.
“Sit on my lap,” I ordered. “Facing me.”
I watched her climb to straddle me. When she did, her core bud stuck out and her silky lips split for me. The view was on point, and it caused my dick to spring up. The energy between us made me take her hand, so that I could have her touch each scar on my body.
“Let me tell you a story with each one,” I sensually said. “I was walking to the yard when a group of niggas got into it. I happened to get pushed in the mix of it. Shit was like being dropped in the middle of WWII. Niggas were going at each other hard. Punches, jab, cracking back, choking folk. Shieet…it wasn’t an attack on me, but others,” I explained. My lips touched her shoulder. My hand went up to her back touched the roughness there. “Tell me.”
Tasha’s anxiousness came back but she squared her shoulders and locked eyes on me. “That spot is where I first was grafted. I was in Puerto Rico. It was so bad that I passed out. I woke up later to the doctor and nurse giving me ice cream just to help me not associate anything negative with it.”
“Pretty chill of them to do that, right?” I asked, watching Natasha.
“Yeah, it was,” she said, moving her hand over my chest to another scar. “I cursed them out too.”
“I bet you did,” I said, chuckling low. My fingers moved to her stomach then, to her lower back where I gripped her ass. I felt her legs widened and her hips dip, as she settled herself on my manhood.
That breach of flesh made us both groan before we went back to sharing our stories of our marks. Each time we went back and forth.
“In Africa, they do scars as honors, as memories to their people, of the fallen, and other stuff,” I said to her. I wanted to tell her how good she felt, especially with how she was rising and falling on me, winding like a fucking goddess. But I didn’t.
“Really?” she asked, arching where her ass curved. I felt her hand take mine to cup her breasts.
My thumbs traced each hardened nipple. “Yeah.” Other hand on her back, I dropped it to tease her clit. “I think what you got now, is like that. See, we gotta turn our ugly shit into something powerful. That’s what I was told in the pen. I didn’t get that shit until just this moment.”
“Why?” Tasha breathlessly asked.
“Because you are the fucking shit and what you made it through…fuck…” My nuts were heavy, and the sweet pleasure and pain had me dropping my head back. “I vow to give an eye-for-an-eye on our enemies, but I need you to know you’re beautiful to me a’ight?”
The brush of her lips on my neck made me buck. The touch of the tip of her tongue tracing my lips, made me hold her hip, raise her up, then pump in and out in a frantic but smooth manner. When she bit my lip, my other hand grabbed the back of her neck then fed her my tongue.
What we gave was raw as fuck and I wasn’t mad about it as I heard her say, “Your words and view are the only things that matter to me. Word is bond.”
“No doubt,” was all I managed to say, because in a force of need, I flipped her on her back, hooked her leg in my arm and thrust until she felt me all in her gut. Fuck how she saw herself, for all I saw was my hope, my saving grace…and right now…my stairway to heaven. Her pussy was heaven.
Chess objective 4: Center-control: Central squares are the most important squares on the board. Controlling the center increases the mobility of your pieces. At the same time, it restricts the mobility of your opponent’s pieces.
Chapter 16: Throne
“How and why the fuck would someone from our camp go after this nigga so recklessly? And now you mean to tell me Screwface is dead?”
Throne stood in his Sunday’s best; a tan designer suit that had been tailored to fit his lean athletic frame. The peach shirt under the suit jacket lightly caressed the muscles in his chest. The loafers he had on set the whole ensemble off. Even though it wasn’t Sunday, Throne was always dressed like he had a meeting with GQ.
Throughout the years, as his money had grown so had his intelligence and views on life. He’d done some cruel and crooked shit to come up in the world, but coming from where he was from, a nigga always had to do what he had to do survive. Did he regret some of that shit? At times, sure. But he stopped losing sleep over it years ago.
Prime looked at his best friend, then shrugged. “Fuck if I know. And how the fuck that nigga get your ride if you ain’t order the hit?”
Throne grimaced. Just as his way of dress had changed, so had his vocabulary. He absolutely detested that his friend, his boy, hadn’t cared enough to mature as he’d done.
“I didn’t order the hit. We’re smarter than that. As the ruling body of Decatur, it made no sense for us to draw heat to ourselves as such.”
“Maybe the nigga went rouge.”
“He isn’t smart enough.”
“So what’chu saying?”
“I’m saying someone put him up to this. That sonofabitch isn’t smart enough to not only think to go rouge and do a hit, but to steal my car as well? No.”
“Sometimes, Throne, niggas be smarter than you give’em credit for.”
“Not Screwface. Look at me and you. We took the bounty we fell on and came up in the world, yeah? I mean even look at Powder and Magnolia. Yeah, that nigga Powder messed around and got gutted, but that’s because he was living on some foul type of down low shit, but he was smart enough to get a legitimate job and cover his tracks. Magnolia went to New York and did some stupid shit, but even he held down a real job and he still does. When we needed them to make runs or do drop-offs, they came through, got paid, then went back to living regular lives.”
Prime nodded then sipped his rum and Coke. “Yeah, they did.”
“This nigga Screwface has never held down a real job. He lives off of women—”
“Not the young girl though. He pays her bills. Keeps her living in that apartment and shit.”
“Yeah, but what did he have to cover his ass if the Feds or cops had gotten after him? If he isn’t smart enough to think logically that way, how in the hell did he come up with a fool hearted plan like this?”
Prime was starting to get a little antsy. He wasn’t sure what Throne was hinting at, but he needed to move the man’s mind in another direction.
“Well, the plan wasn’t all that fucking genius, bruh,” he said to Throne. “It was kinda stupid if you think about it. The nigga stole your fucking car to do a hit on a nigga who just got out of prison. How smart was that really?”
After all the years they’d known one another, Prime still couldn’t pick up on a mind fuck when Throne was playing one.
“That’s the thing, it was so stupid that it was smart,” Throne said then turned to look at his friend head on, “if the aim was to put the heat on me.”
The two men stared one another down. Prime had never been a bitch at heart so no way Throne was going to punk him into submission. Throne had never been stupid so he knew someone in his camp had put Screwface up to do the imprudent shit he’d done. But Throne was also smart enough not to show his hand just yet.
Prime squared his shoulders and asked, “So what’chu thinking?”
Throne took the rest of his drink to the head then turned to look out at his expansive back yard. The fountain’s light made the water in the pool look like the bluest sky. The flood lights around his backyard showed that he paid well to have the landscape manicured to perfection. There wasn’t another mansion next to his for miles and he liked it that way. He’d lived in his home for seven years now. He hadn’t upgraded his cars in about the same amount of years. No need to be flashy and stupid. That was how many niggas got caught. Throne didn’t own one piece of overly priced jewelry either.
“Thinking we need to clean house. We need to find out who put Screwface up to this shit and we need to reach out to Mali.”
Prime jerked his bead back. His lips screwed up and brows pulled together so hard his eyes watered. “Say what now?”
Throne turned around. “Reach out to Mali.”
“What the fuck for, my nigga?”
“Don’t you think we owe that nigga a conversation?”
“Hell the fuck no.”
“I want to talk to him. Set it up,” Throne said.
“Bruh, I’m sorry, fam, but that shit makes no fucking sense. We sent this nigga to prison and you wanna flap gums with him?”
Throne cut his eyes at his friend. “Don’t you think we need to know what this nigga is thinking? Don’t you think we should get inside of his head? He’s had ten years to fucking think about any and everything. He knows shit, Prime. He knows where we got the drugs, the money, the guns…and for ten years, he didn’t say shit. Even after we tried to have him killed, he kept his mouth shut. Either that nigga is crazy loyal or he’s just plain fucking crazy.”
Prime scratched his head and looked skeptical as if he didn’t get the method to his friend’s madness. “So we about to talk to him where? And once we talk then what? We offing the nigga?”
Throne shook his head. “No. That would be asinine.”
“That would be what?”
“It would be foolish to kill the man now. All of it would point right back to us, especially because of that shit Screwface just pulled. We have to be smart about this. Yes, he’s anathema to us and our code, but we need to meet with this man face-to-face. He went in a boy. Came out a man. We need to know the man as I’m sure the boy died the day the bars closed behind him.”
Prime shook his head then set his glass on the bar. “Look, fam, you know I’m always rocking with your ideas and shit, but this seems a little like madness.”
“Could be, but it was madness when we set that little nigga up, too.”
“So what? You regretting that shit now?” Prime asked then chuckled.
“No. I’m saying, it would be smart to know where a potential enemy’s mind is. There is a reason Mali didn’t sell us out. I need to know why.”
Throne walked over to the red leather sofa that had been hand designed and took a seat. Just as Prime got ready to say something else, Dani and Throne’s wife, Michaela, walked in. Prime didn’t even look at Dani first. His eyes went right to Michaela. Tall, dark-skin…bitch had thick-ass thighs and legs for days.
