Chapter 8
Say My Name
Rumors spread fast in prison. As soon as the word spread that Finesse got stabbed up on the yard, convicts already started saying that he was dead. And when a couple of convicts who worked in medical got back to the unit, they confirmed it.
“Yo, the God dead.”
The truth was that he had died. Twice. But the prison had airlifted him to an outside hospital where determined doctors had saved his life. He didn’t regain consciousness until a few days later, but Finesse was alive . . . and so was his thirst for revenge.
When he first opened his eyes and looked at the all-white surroundings, he thought he was just in the prison infirmary. After all, he didn’t know what the infirmary actually looked like. He had been known for sending nigguhs to the infirmary, not going himself. But when he saw that he was handcuffed to the bed and the windows had bars, he knew it was an outside hospital.
He lifted his head and saw Officer Dutton reading an ESPN magazine. He was a white ex-Marine, but he wasn’t an asshole.
“Well, if it isn’t the cat with nine lives.” Dutton chuckled.
“Cut the jokes, Dutton. I need some water,” Finesse croaked, his dry-sounding voice scratchy from lack of use.
“Push the little button by the bed.”
Finesse pushed his call button. When no one came quickly enough, he pressed it again . . . and again. Several seconds later, a nurse hurried in with a furled brow.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I just need some water.”
She looked at him like: I know he didn’t . . .
“First off, Mr. Bennett, I’m glad you’re awake, but I hope you’re not going to become a nuisance,” she said firmly, but softened it with a smile.
Finesse eyed her up and down. Her snug white nurse’s uniform looked ‘right’ on her petite frame. Although she had an Asian eye set, she looked more Latino, which made Finesse conclude that she was probably mixed. Either way, she was definitely a dime.
“My bad, yo. I ain’t know if this shit was working,” he said, holding up the call button.
“Believe me, Mr. Bennett, all you have to do is ring once, and I’ll be on my way,” she replied.
Finesse smiled flirtatiously. “Word up, I got it like that?”
She giggled.
“All patients do. It’s hospital policy. Let me get your water. She walked out just as his lawyer walked in. He was a slim, gray-haired white man, whose boyish features belied his grayness. His expensive suit looked more Wall Street tycoon than a lawyer. He had been assigned to Finesse’s case after Finesse filed his appeal.
“Well, DeAngelo, you’re looking well for a man that cheated death twice.”
“Just call me Steven Segal then.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m hard to kill,” Finesse joked. His lawyer laughed.
“Well, be that as it may, I’m glad you pulled through,” the lawyer said.
The nurse walked back in carrying a plastic pitcher and cup. She set them on the table next to the bed.
“There’s your water, Mr. Bennett,” she remarked.
“Call me Finesse,” he replied, squinted at her name tag and added, “Nurse Montoya.”
“I’m not calling you Finesse,” she protested with a smirk.
“Watch, you gonna call me Finesse,” he shot back confidently, watching her walk out and lusting after her short, shapely legs.
“Glad to see you’re making yourself right at home,” his lawyer quipped.
Finesse used his free hand to pour a cup of water. “Put me anywhere on God’s earth, and I’ll prove my worth,” Finesse jazzed.
“I’ve been coming by daily, waiting for you to wake up because we need to get these papers signed ASAP.” The lawyer handed him several documents.
“What is it?”
“Your release papers.”
Finesse stopped cold and looked at his lawyer. “Get the fuck outta here! That quick?”
The lawyer chuckled. “The government knows when it’s beaten. They know you have two potential lawsuits: this stabbing and the case itself. So they’ve agreed not to contest your appeal if you agree not to sue,” he explained.
Finesse looked over the documents. “How major?”
“Couple mil’ . . . at least.”
Finesse whistled. “Now that’s major.”
“Yeah, but the catch is that you’ll stay in prison a few more years, as they fight your appeal tooth and nail.”
Finesse thought about it. He knew he had the Feds over a barrel, but they had him over one too. A couple million dollars was a lick, but it wasn’t worth his freedom.”
“Fuck that, I’ll get my own mills. Where do I sign?”
“Smart man. Right here . . . and here . . . and here,” his lawyer indicated, flipping the document’s pages. “And that’ll do it. I have to go before the judge, and part of the agreement is the government foots the hospital bill. But as soon as they discharge you, you’ll be a free man.”
A free man . . . Finesse couldn’t believe his ears. He had spent many nights staring at the ceiling in his cell, wondering if he’d ever hear those words, and now they were a reality. His only regret was that he couldn’t get at Everlast, but he could damn sure get at Infinite.
“You hear that, Dutton? I’m a free man! Take these fuckin’ handcuffs off!”
“Congrats,” Dutton replied, deadpan, not even looking up from the magazine.
“Well, technically, you’re still under government supervision, but as soon as I get these filed—”
Finesse didn’t even let his lawyer finish.
“Shit, what you still doin’ here then?”
His lawyer laughed. “I’m not. I’m on it,” he replied, then walked out.
As soon as he left, Finesse pushed the call button.
A few minutes later, Nurse Montoya came and stood in the door. “I know you don’t want anything,” she remarked.
“Yes I do. I’m looking at it right now.” He smiled.
She blushed, shaking her head, and then walked off.
A few days later, Dutton was told to remove the handcuffs and return to Lompoc.
“Well, you’re on your own, Bennett. I hope I never see you again,” he remarked.
“Believe me, you won’t,” Finesse replied, vowing if it ever came down to prison or death, he’d hold court in the streets.
Dutton walked out and Finesse looked at his wrists where the handcuffs once were.
“Fuck yeah!” he exclaimed, overwhelmed with the feeling of being free again.
The first thing he did was hit his call button. Then he put both his hands behind his head in a laid-back style.
Nurse Montoya entered the room. “Yes, Mr. Bennett,” she sang sarcastically, as if she had been expecting his call.
Over the last couple of days, they had been flirting hard, but being that he was locked up with a life sentence, Finesse had become her fantasy, because she wasn’t about to make prison wifey her reality. He never bothered to tell her he was about to get out.
“Notice anything different?”
She looked at him, then around the room. The Correction Officer was gone. Quickly, she glanced at him and noticed he was no longer handcuffed to the bed. Her eyes got as big as plates.
“Oh my God! What—” She gasped, not understanding what she was seeing. “Did you kill the guard?”
The seriousness with which she said it made him crack up with laughter. “No, I ain’t kill the fuckin’ guard. Come ‘ere, Marissa.”
She came over to the bed. “Yes?”
He grabbed her around the waist and palmed her ass, making her jump.
“Stop,” she whined, but it sounded more like “don’t stop.”
“You know how long I’ve been wanting to do this?” Finesse crooned, slipping his hand under her skirt and feeling her soft ass.
Her eyes fluttered, but she tried to fight the feeling. “DeAngelo, what are you doing? You still haven’t told me what’s going on,” Marissa protested weakly.
“I’m trying to show you what’s going on,” he shot back smoothly, taking her hand and putting it on his dick. “You know you want this dick.”
Marissa squeezed his dick and let out a lip-biting moan. Ever since she had seen his hard dick while he lay in a semi-comatose state, she had fantasized about riding it, right there in the room.
“Somebody might come—come in,” she moaned as he slid his fingers inside her wet pussy.
“That makes it even better,” he crooned, pulling her close and kissing her neck.
The feel of his finger stoking her pussy and his soft lips on her neck drove Marissa over the edge.
“Don’t make me scream,” she remarked as she hiked up her skirt and climbed on the bed.
Finesse threw the covers aside, and his dick stood straight up. Marissa gripped it as he held her panties to the side and she pushed it up in her, letting out a delicious moan.
“Oh my God, it’s so thick!” she gushed. “Go slow.”
But Finesse didn’t know the meaning of the word. He had been in prison for three years, fucking his hand. Slow was the exact opposite of his full-throttle intent.
“Oh, DeAngelo,” Marissa cried out, feeling the full length filling her up.
“Damn this pussy feel good; fuck me back,” he demanded, gripping her by the hips, bringing her into every thrust.
“Oh baby, it’s too much!”
“Now take this dick! I know you been thinking about me, ain’t you?”
She nodded, licking her lips, eyes shut and damn near rolled up in the back of her head.
“Fuck me like that, then.”
Marissa began to get used to his size and began to ride him harder. “Like this, daddy? You like it like this?” she groaned.
“Take all this dick!”
“Oh, I am!”
“Say my name!”
“DeAngelo!”
“Naw, mama, you know my name. Say my name,” he growled, placing his feet flat on the bed for better leverage and began beating her pussy up.
For a few moments, she couldn’t say anything because his thrusts were taking her breath away. Her mouth was open but nothing was coming out.
“Say my name!” he emphasized, putting his finger in her asshole.
The dick was so good she was ready to call him ‘god.’ “Finesse, oh Finesse, you fuck me sooo good!”
Even before she came, he was half way to his nut. He had done all he could to hold back, but he couldn’t hold it anymore and he blew inside of her. Feeling his warm cum coating the walls of her pussy made Marissa explode all over his dick, and then collapse onto his chest.
“Shit!” was all she could say as her body broke out in shivers.
Finesse kissed her on the nose, smirked, and then said, “I told you, you was gonna call me Finesse.”