Chapter 14
Playing with Prey
“Slurp! Slurp! Mmmmm—Slurp!” were the sounds that filled the car as GQ drove around Market Street in his new, all-black Land Rover.
Don Pooh’s fiancée, Vanessa, had her face in his lap and his dick down her throat. Her head game was so good, it damn near had GQ cockeyed.
“Goddamn, ma, fuck!” he grunted, his toes curled up in his Timbs.
This was the second time she had given him brains in the whip. Ever since she first laid eyes on him, she was feeling him. On GQ’s behalf, he was simply feeling being felt. He was used to females being all over him, so when Vanessa finally made her move, he was almost expecting it.
∞
“Yo, ain’t that GQ?” one of Supreme’s goons barked, as they passed him going the other way. “Yo, bust a U! Bust a U!”
“I am, nigguh. Hol’ the fuck up!” the driver growled, waiting for a break in traffic to do just that.
The passenger goon used his speed dial on his cell. “Yo, ‘Preme, we on it, God! We see GQ!”
Supreme jumped up and grabbed his car keys. “Where you at?”
“Where I’m at? I don’t know where the fuck I’m at, but we followin’ the nigguh.”
“A street sign! Read a fuckin’ street sign!”
The passenger goon looked around, then turned to the driver. “You see a street sign?”
“Market Street . . . We on Market Street,” the goon repeated.
Supreme hurried for his car, tucking his pistol in his pants.
“Where at on Mar—never mind.”
“What you want us to do? Blast the nigguh or what?”
Supreme thought about it. As bad as he wanted to show Chanel that he was making some progress, he knew that if he killed GQ on the spot the rest of the team would scatter.
“Naw, naw, follow ‘im. See where he leads you. If you can, snatch his ass up,” Supreme ordered, jumping in his car.
“What if we can’t do neither one?”
“Then murder the bastard!” Supreme growled.
∞
“Yo, ma, do it wit’ no hands,” GQ commanded, taking her by the back of the neck and guiding her motions.
“Okay, daddy.”
GQ was in heaven, but he didn’t know he was slipping, too. Usually, he kept a check in the rearview mirror, but the face in his lap had him distracted.
Vanessa was giving a porn performance on his dick. Her pussy was dripping wet. She wanted to fuck him so badly.
“Oh shit, yo! Yo, swallow this shit!” he grunted, feeling the rumble build in his gut.
He was coming to an intersection and the light was green. That was the last thing he saw before his eyes rolled up in the back of his head. He fought to keep focus, but when he looked up, the light had just turned red, and he entered the intersection.
“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, because he was cumming and because traffic was coming. He knew if he hit the brakes, he’d have an accident, so he floored it and narrowly missed being side-swiped by an oncoming bus.
“Fuck!” the driver spat as he watched GQ run the red light and disappear on the other side of the busy intersection.
“You run it! Run it! Nigguh gettin’ away!” the passenger goon urged.
“You crazy as fuck! I ain’t running this shit! Look!” the driver said, referring to his rearview.
The passenger goon looked over his shoulder and saw, four or five cars back, the dormant lights of a patrol car, waiting on the green.
“Damn yo, he ran the red light, ‘Preme! He musta seen us, plus po-po right behind us!”
“You stupid motherfucka!” Supreme blasted. “How the fuck you let the nigguh get away?”
“He–he ran the light!” the goon repeated.
Supreme shook his head, hung up, and turned back toward the motel.
Vanessa sat up, not knowing they had just run a red light. She swallowed all of GQ’s cum, but she used her pinkie to wipe the corner of her mouth. “You gotta drop me off back at the salon,” she told him as she pulled the visor down to use the vanity mirror.
“Come on, ma. You know I’m tryin’ to fuck. What’s up?”
“I know, baby, but I can’t,” she whined as she applied her lipstick. “Don be on some real possessive shit. He might be sitting in front of the salon right now.”
“Goddamn, the nigguh be on it like that?”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You don’t know the half.”
Two blocks later, they were back at the salon. “Pull around back,” she instructed him. Vanessa got out her phone and hit a number.
“Pam, it’s V. Open the back door,” she said and then hung up.
GQ chuckled. “You’ve done this before, huh?”
She giggled to play it off as the car came to a stop. “Whateva. I’ll call you,” she replied, opening the door and leaning toward him for a kiss.
GQ leaned away.
“It’s yours,” she sassed.
“So is my piss, but I don’t drink it.”
“You so stupid.”
“For real, for real, get at me, yo.”
“You know I will, wit’ that sweet dick,” she replied with a sexy smile.
GQ watched her get out, admiring the way that plump, apple bottom ass looked in her jeans.
“I see why Don fucked up.” He chuckled as he pulled off.
Vanessa walked in through the back door and straight out the front door, where her Benz was parked. As soon as she was about to get in, her phone rang.
It was Don Pooh. “Yo, where you?”
“I told you I had to go to the salon.”
“Fuck takin’ you so long?”
“I’m leavin’ now,” she sang cheerfully to keep the strain out of her voice.
“Well, hurry up and bring me a fish dinner.”
“Okay, daddy.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she replied with another man’s cum on her breath.
∞
“He got away?”
Those were the three words that Supreme didn’t want to say or hear, but he thought it sounded better than nothing. But the way Chanel spat it back at him, now he wasn’t so sure.
He was in the outer room of Chanel’s suite sitting on the couch facing her as she sat across from him. But Kat was pacing behind him, and it had him nervous.
“Ma, I’m tellin’ you, we got this—”
“But he got away,” she repeated.
“I’m sayin’, he ran the red light and—”
“So you’re sayin’ he spotted you?” she questioned.
“Naw, yo, he might’ve thought he was being followed,” Supreme said.
Chanel smirked. She loved to make people squirm. “But he was being followed.”
Realizing that he had backed himself into a corner, he took a deep breath and reset. “Believe me, ma, I got these muhfuckas. I got my team on call 24/7, and I got these bitches on—”
“Don’t . . . use that word.”
“My bad, these chicks off the block.”
“What chicks?” she probed.
“They be on the block all the time,” he replied.
“You mean, like . . . crack heads?”
He realized how feeble it sounded, but at the moment it was all he had, so he tried to make it sound good. “Shit, ma, you know them crack bit—I mean—fiends be on it.” He laughed.
Chanel didn’t. She rubbed her head like she had a headache, and he was the cause.
“Crack heads.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Supreme, I told you . . . the longer these nigguhs breathe, the worse the organization looks. You understand that, right?”
“My word, Chanel. These nigguhs won’t live.”
“Oh, I already know that. If I wanted to, I could dead them like”—she snapped her fingers—“that.”
“I know.”
“But then, what would I need you for?”
Supreme sensed that Kat had stopped pacing and felt her standing behind him. He held his composure, but inside he was shook. “I’ma take care of it.”
“Supreme, you’re making me regret my decision. Infinite was a good money maker, but he lacked that—umph, you know—the killer instinct. I thought you had it,” Chanel remarked.
“I do.”
“Prove it,” she replied, looking him dead in the eyes. “Burn the city down if you have to, but handle your business. Are we clear?” she questioned.
“No doubt.”
“Good, now get out,” she spat, waving him off dismissively.
He got up without another word and left.
As soon as he was gone, Kat turned to Chanel. “Yo, Co, why the fuck are we playing with these lames? Let’s handle it and go home,” Kat growled.
Chanel shrugged. “We could . . . but to play chess, one must have pawns, no?”
“It’s starting to get on my fuckin’ nerves.”
“It’s not that bad. Besides, it feels good to be on the hunt again. It keeps you on your toes. It’s been a while since we’ve had a target this swift. I’m having fun.” Chanel giggled.
She had the power to crush the crew, but like a lioness, she was playing with her prey, toying with them . . . but only for a short moment.