Thug Matrimony (16 page)

He grabbed her ass and stood behind her, his dick in between her legs, pressing against her pussy lips. She instinctively began rocking her hips, sliding her pussy up and down the length of his nine and a half inches.

“Ssss … baby.” She was rocking harder, harder, faster, and faster, her creamy liquid so plentiful it was turning his dick white. “Kaylin … please … give it … to … me.”

Kaylin began moving faster, making sure the head of his dick kept rubbing her clit.

“Oh … oh … oh … shit,” she whimpered as the orgasm turned her hip rocking into hip quaking. He kept his hardness pressed up against her pussy as he rained soft kisses all over her back.

“You want more?” he whispered in between kisses.

“Please, Papi,” Angel begged. He gave her a little time to get herself together before he spread her legs wider and slid his dick over her dripping wet pussy, once more gliding the head to the opening, only giving her an inch at a time. Angel felt like she was going out of her mind. They both let out a groan as Kaylin put it all the way in, held it, and began grinding nice and slow, sending electric currents flying throughout her body, setting it on fire.

“Oh … God … it … feels … damn … please … Unnnnghh … oh … fuck this pussy,” she yelled out, her fingers gripping the edges of the dresser so tight her knuckles were turning white. “Oh, yeah, baby, that’s my spot,” she squealed. “That’s … it … oh G-God!” She squeezed her eyes shut as her body shuddered from her toes all the way up to her nipples. She shook and trembled and yelled out his name, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she gave in to the body-rocking orgasm. Her pussy was clamping around his dick.

Trying not to bust, Kaylin pulled out, stood behind her as he massaged both of her nipples. Her head was down on the dresser, as her sweat-covered body heaved up and down. As soon as her
breathing returned to almost normal, he stood her up, turned her around, and set her on top of the dresser.

“Gimme that tongue,” he ordered as their tongue kisses sounded off into the quiet room. Running her soft small hands all over his chest, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pulled her to the edge of the dresser and eased back into her. This time it was all about him. She leaned back and let out a moan as he fucked her deep and slow.

“Damn, you got this snap-back pussy!” He closed his eyes as he let the feel of her soft, gushy walls ride him to oblivion. She clamped down on his dick with her pussy muscles, causing him to shudder and mumble shit she couldn’t understand.

“Fuck this pussy, get yours. Do that shit. Take it … Daddy, long-stroke this pussy. Sssss … yeah,” she teased him. She reached down and pressed on her clit, as he hammered in deeper. When her clit began to skeet, her walls contracted … clenching on to his dick. His face twisted up, body stiffened, he let out a long grunt and Angel thought she felt his cum hit her throat.

The following day by noon they were still in the bed. Malik had been blowing up all the phone lines. When Angel’s cell phone rang, Kaylin groaned as he reached over her to answer it.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“What’s up?”

“When you coming to pick me up?”

“As soon as I wake up and get in the shower.”

“You woke now. So you gonna get in the shower?”

“Malik! Gimme that phone,” Kaylin heard Bianca yell. “Kaylin, I’m on my way out, I’ll bring him over there.”

“Aiight, then.” Kaylin hung up and looked down at Angel, who was fast asleep. He kissed her on her forehead and closed his eyes in an attempt to get another hour in.

Ding, dong. Ding, dong.

Kaylin groaned as he lay there willing whoever it was to go away.

Ding, dong. Ding, dong.

He tore himself away from his warm spot in the bed. His tall, naked frame stretched as he clutched the thick carpet with his toes. Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, he headed for the front door.

Ding, dong. Ding, dong.

“All right, damn,” Kaylin bellowed out as he unlocked the door and opened it.

Mr. Harry, his neighbor, was just turning away. “Young man, I was just about to leave.” Mr. Harry reminded Kaylin of Ossie Davis. He had a Macy’s bag filled up with neatly stacked mail that he had collected for them while they were away.

“Morning, Mr. Harry.”

“I heard you and the missus pull up last night. It was too late to bring your mail over.” He held out the bag for Kaylin.

“'Preciate this, Mr. Harry. The wife is still asleep but she brought you and Miss Emma sumthin nice back.”

Mr. Harry grinned. “Very nice of you. I’ll tell the missus.” He tipped his hat and wobbled away.

“Damn,” Kaylin mumbled as he stuck his hand in the bag and thumbed through the mail. He pulled out two large envelopes that didn’t have postmarks on them. Locking the door, he then set the bag on the couch before sitting down and inspecting the envelopes.

Shaking them, feeling them, and smelling them, he finally decided to open them. Dumping out the contents onto the coffee table, he began to get pissed. “What the fuck!” he spat as he sprawled out pictures of Angel, Malik, Bianca, New Day, Papi Chulo, and him. There were also pictures of the rest of Game Over staff and artists going into the building. He sat back onto the couch, rubbing his hands over his face.

P
hillip Johnson was swerving his Rolls-Royce along the Forty-ninth Street Bridge into Queens Bridge, one hand on the steering wheel, the other waving animatedly as he cursed the past events. His brother, Dougie, pulled out a Black N’ Mild and lit it. He was half listening, as his oldest brother continued to vent.

“I can’t believe that a couple of bitches are trying to chump me! Do they know who the fuck I am?” Phillip spat as he recklessly handled the Rolls.

Dougie let out a grunt. Phillip went on to answer himself.

“Shit, I’m muthafuckin’ Phillip Johnson, ain’t nobody gonna chump me. You should have seen that pussy-ass Kaylin, he wouldn’t even check his bitch, yo! Then on top of that, the bitch Lily talking about she carrying my baby! She smokin’ somethin’, because I know my sperm ain’t get that bitch pregnant. Tryna ruin my reputation and upbringing. She got me fucked up.”

Dougie grunted again, fighting to remain cool as his brother ranted some more.
I wish this nigga would shut the fuck up, complaining like a little bitch. You fucked her, so why can’t she be pregnant? With his punk ass.

Phillip had been pissing a hissy fit ever since Angel punked him. But when he saw on MTV news that Game Over Records stole the show over there in Spain and Greece he went ape shit.
In his twisted mind, he came to the conclusion that they did it all by using his artist Lil’E. He still considered her his property and couldn’t wait to show her just that: she belonged to him.

To add insult to his already bruised ego, when the artists in his camp began questioning him about doing a hot tour like the one ‘Game Over’ pulled off, he felt even more threatened.

“I got sumthin for them bitches!” He was vexed but also excited because they had one stop to make; then they were on their way to the strip club, Runway 69, to meet up with Perry G.

Tired of his brother’s repetitious rantings, Dougie turned on the radio.

Phillip shot him a nasty look, turned it back off, and started yelling. “Don’t touch my shit, man, like you don’t want to hear what the fuck I got to say … punk muthafucka!”

Dougie had heard enough. “Look, bruh, all I’m saying is, how you know that you can trust this kid?”

“Trust? What the fuck do trust got to do with anything? I just want some fuckin’ info! What—”

“Yo,” Dougie cut him off, “dude got fired, so obviously he’s pissed and got motive. What the fuck can this little punk-ass bitch tell you that you can’t find out for yo’ got damn self? Shit, you bigger than that. Plus, you been in this game longer than both of them cats. And Kaylin, he just tryna come up. He’s not even close to your status. You got niggas and hoes pullin’ in major stacks. So, bruh, I can’t understand why you nuckin’ off this little white bitch, and gettin’ your blood pressure all up. Nah mean?”

Phillip balled his face up and spat, “Who the fuck side you on, nigga? Shit, let me find out. What type of shit you on? And hold up, who the fuck you talking to like you crazy or sumthin?”

See? I can’t talk no sense to this bullheaded nigga.
Dougie smirked to himself as he looked out the window.

“That’s right, I’ve been in the game longer. I’m Phillip muthafuckin’ Johnson, so I’m not about to let no new cat come up and just fuck me, nah mean? You right, bruh, I don’t know what this
cat can tell me, but as sure as hell is hot, I’m gonna listen to what the nigga got to say.”

Phillip hit Twenty-first Street and his eyes caught somebody he had been looking for since last month. “Oh yeah,” he mumbled as he skidded onto the sidewalk, threw the stick shift in park, and jumped out. Dougie sprang out of the other side. “Yo, Wes, thought I wouldn’t roll up on yo’ punk ass, huh?”

“Fuck.”
Wes glanced at Phillip, then at Dougie. With his deformed hand he threw the bag of groceries at them and jumped on top of the Rolls. He grabbed on to the storefront’s awning, trying to pull himself up, but instead of getting away he came tumbling down, flat on his back, landing on the hood of the car. “Unnnnghh,” he grunted.

Phillip had caught one leg and Dougie grabbed the other and both men started raining blows at his face and on his body. Most passersby scurried around the action, but the rest were enjoying the show.

“Bitch, where … my … muthafuckin’ … rims … at?” Phillip kept punching the now screaming man. “You … fuckin’ … thief.”

“Yo, pop the trunk. Let’s get this nigga outta here before the po-po roll up,” Dougie warned.

“Yo, I’ma get you your rims,” Wes, the thief, screamed.

“Nigga, I paid you over a month ago. Who the fuck you take me for? Some sucka-ass busta?”

“Naw, man. Ohhh … shit,” Wes screamed out as Dougie pulled him off the car and his head hit the ground. Dougie was dragging him across the cement. “C’mon, man,” he pleaded.

“What the fuck y’all looking at?” Phillip yelled at the bold spectators. They were right up on the action. This was his hood and he felt as if he was king. He moved a few items out of the way in the trunk as Dougie lifted their victim and stuffed him inside. Dougie’s six-two, 245-pound solid frame came in handy.

“Yo, man, c’mon now. Don’t close me in here. I’ma get your rims.” Panic was evident in his voice.

Phillip punched him in the jaw, grabbed his head, and mashed him down. He stood back as Dougie slammed the trunk.

“Yo, why you gotta slam my shit? I keep asking you nicely not to do that. All you got to do is press it closed. The latch will catch.”

“Man, go ‘head with that fuckin’ bullshit. Let’s get the fuck outta here. We got a nigga in the trunk and you bitchin’ about a fuckin’ latch.”

When they got back into the ride, Dougie clicked on the radio and turned it up real loud. Phillip reached over and turned it down. When he heard the dude in the back yelling and screaming he turned it back up and mumbled some threats to Dougie.

They pulled into the strip joint Runway 69. Phillip maneuvered the car all the way into the back of the lot and parked.

“What the fuck we gonna do with him?” Dougie nodded to the back.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Phillip turned the engine off and got out.

Dougie shrugged and got out too. They were searched and allowed through the velvet rope.

“Oh my Gawd!” Phillip yelled as he walked through the club looking at all of the many beautiful asses, tits, and faces. “I’m in my element fo’ real!” He slapped a bronze beauty on the ass as she walked by, swinging her weave.

Several people said what’s up, and there were several “there go Phillip Johnsons”, but he kept it moving.

Perry G stood up and waved Phillip and Dougie over. Perry was hard to miss, especially since he looked like he was wearing Bishop Don Juan’s hand-me-downs, hat included.

“Look at this nigga.” Dougie smirked.

Perry G came up and gave them both some dap. “I got you the best table in the house, Mr. Johnson.” He immediately began to kiss ass. “What y’all want to drink? I appreciate y’all coming out.”

“I’m in the mood for some Patrón!” Phillip yelled as he placed a five-dollar bill in the white broad’s thong.

“Get me a scotch on the rocks, Mr. Kiss Ass,” Dougie cracked.

The DJ was spinning “Déjà Vu” by Beyonce, and two dancers were on the stage, throwing their money makers around.

“Mr. Johnson.” He shot Dougie a fucked-up look. “I’ve been in A-and-R, as you probably heard, for the last ten years. I’m the b—”

“Hold up, money,” Phillip interrupted. “This ain’t no job interview. I came here to get me a lil’ pussy and to hear about a pussy. What’s the deal with this Kaylin nigga?”

“I can tell you whatever you need to know.”

“Then talk.” Phillip leaned back into his chair.

“Yo, my man is just trying to come up. He go hard on finding that talent. He’s focused on building a big team and building it fast. He’s goin’ hard at it.”

“Where the nigga getting all this money from? Fuckin’ office in the Time Warner Building!”

“Yo, he used to be big in the game. Him and his boy, Trae. Their names used to ring loud. Them niggas caught a case, beat it, and hauled ass out of the game. Turned everything legit. Both of them got married, got families, and is just trying to enjoy the fruits of their labor.”

The more Perry G was talking, the madder Phillip was getting. “So, that’s really his wife? That fine, yellow lawyer broad?”

“Yeah. I know you heard about that big wedding they had. That shit was off the chain. His nigga, Trae, got shot up, yo. Angel’s ex, this nigga named Snake, came rolling up in there with his boys and halted that whole shit. Everybody had to leave. Kaylin walked out on his bride to be.”

“So they ain’t married!”

“That nigga came to his senses. They just got married recently.”

“Damn. I know he did. That’s a bad bitch.”

“That’s a crazy bitch. After her wedding got crashed and Kaylin walked out on her she came to the office acting like nothing happened. She’s about her business.”