Chapter 18

A Mercy Killing

 

It was good to be home.

That’s what the smile on Finesse’s face seemed to say as he lay back on the firm hotel bed while a dark, chocolate stallion and a honey-brown Beyoncé look alike sucked his dick. He had scooped them up at a club in Paterson that Bam had taken him to and couldn’t decide which to take, so he took them both . . . hence the results.

Beyoncé popped his dick out of her mouth and cooed, “I wanna ride this big motherfucka.”

“Shit, you already know.” Finesse smirked.

She tongue kissed Chocolate, and then straddled Finesse, gripping his dick and sliding it in with a gush and a groan. Finesse took one look at Chocolate’s pretty, pink pussy and decided to taste it.

“Come here, ma. I got a ride for you, too.”

She smiled seductively, then slithered up the side of the bed and sat on his face, reverse cowgirl style, facing Beyoncé. The chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” Finesse had them singing sounded like an orgasmic orchestra. The Chocolate sitting all over his face was beginning to melt as her pussy got wetter and wetter.

“Ooohhh yes, yes, right there!” she moaned, leaning over to lick Beyoncés pert nipple.

“Damn, this dick feel so goood,” Beyoncé cooed, as Finesse bounced her harder and harder.

“I–I’m–I’m about to—” Chocolate stammered.

“—cummin!” Beyoncé squealed, as both girls came back to back, damn near like synchronized swimmers.

Finesse got up and bent Chocolate over, grabbing a fistful of her hair and beating her pretty, pink pussy red. He cries were muffled by the pillow, into which, her face was buried, but Finesse pulled her up by the ponytail.

“Naw bitch, sing for daddy. Say my name,” he grunted.

“Oh God! Fuck me. God!” Her pleas and super soft pussy made Finesse squeeze and bust before he wanted to, but he damn near came a bucketfull. Both girls were exhausted and satisfied as he collapsed between them.

“Damn, you gotta come home from prison more often.” Beyoncé giggled, stroking his chest and his ego.

“Believe me, ma, the God’s stamina is crazy. Gimme ten minutes and I’ll show you,” he boasted.

His phone rang. “Yo, hand me that,” he told Chocolate.

She got up and got his pants, then handed them to him. His new phone was just a flip phone, because he hadn’t had time to get a permanent one.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Yo, my nig, we all set. Where you?” Bam inquired.

“Word? Shit, say no mo’. I’m on my way,” he replied, and then hung up.

Finesse turned to the chicks. “Yo, y’all put your numbers in my phone. I’ma have to take a rain check on round two.

“Oh, believe me. I will hold you to that.” Chocolate winked.

Finesse winked back, but quickly got dressed and hit the door.

∞

“You—ohh—you hear my pussy, daddy?” she moaned on the phone line.

“Hell yeah, I hear it. Slide your fingers in that pussy.” Everlast lusted, his cell phone in one hand and his dick in the other.

He was trying to talk low so his voice wouldn’t carry through the vent into the next cell. Having a cell phone in prison was dangerous enough because the police could do a major shakedown at any time, so you definitely didn’t want another convict hearing you. If he was a rat, he would definitely tell. But the chick on the other end had him so fucked up, he didn’t really care.

“It’s too tight,” she said lustfully.

“Push it in.”

Her guttural moans let him know she was forcing it in. He gripped his dick tightly, pumping it faster and harder while the chick on the other end panted and squealed. He erupted with a toe-curling grunt, catching his seed in a shower. Once the bodily spasm had subsided and his toes uncurled, he whispered, “Police comin’. I’ll call you back!”

He was lying, but the females never seemed to catch on. For Everlast, it was just like on the streets: “After the nut, what do I need you for?” Everlast got up and checked, just in case the police were coming, but all was quiet. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was asleep or on their own phone. He heard his phone buzz under the pillow. He knew it was a text, so he pulled it out and the text read: Can I call you?

It was from Carmen, his baby mother, wifey, and chick holding him down during his bid. He smiled and texted: Yes.

Several seconds later, the phone vibrated with her call and he picked up instantly.

“What’s up, pretty—” Everlast started to say, but his words were cut off by a blood curdling scream coming through the phone. It seemed to fill his cell, and he quickly pressed end. “What the fuck?” he gruffed, dialing her number. This time, there was no answer. He frowned, knowing something was not right, but before he could call again, a picture text came through from Carmen. He pressed to receive, and after the picture was processed, it came through.

Everlast dropped the phone.

The picture was of Carmen, butt naked and spread eagle with her whole stomach blown out. She had been shot, point blank with a shotgun. The whole bed was red from her blood. Stuffed down her throat was a twelve-inch dildo, the one she had used many nights to play in her pussy while he masturbated to her moans. Her glossy, wide-eyed stare told him she was definitely dead.

“Oh my . . . God!” he gasped, sitting down on the bunk with a thud.

The phone vibrated again. It was another picture text. With a trembling finger, he pushed to receive it. When he saw the picture, his heart almost collapsed. It was a picture of his mother—what was left of her. Her body was on the bathroom floor, her whole face and half of her head were gone. She too had been shot with a shotgun at close range. The only way he knew for sure it was his mother was the housecoat she wore. It was the same one she wore in the picture on his wall that showed her holding his son.

He rocked on the bed, eyes shut tight, crying so deep down that no sounds or tears came out. The pain he felt was unbearable.

Then the phone vibrated again.

He knew what the picture would be—felt it in his bones. His heart told him to delete it, don’t look. But he ignored his heart and pressed to receive.

“Oh God noooooo!” he bellowed loud enough for the whole dorm to hear.

His son was in the bathtub. It was full of water and so were his little, two-year-old lungs. He had been drowned. The expression on his face seemed to ask, why? His large, adorable eyes stared lifelessly into the camera.

In waves of helplessness, rage, and futility, Everlast wanted to kill himself and whoever did this and the whole world. He had never felt so powerless. His head throbbed unceasingly.

The phone vibrated with a call. He knew that whoever did it would be on the other end. He quickly pressed send and barked, “You killed my family! You killed my family! I swear I’ma kill you, I swear!”

“Justice must be served. Ain’t that what you told me, nigguh? You bitch ass nigguh, you next!” Finesse seethed into the phone.

“Finesse?”

Finesse laughed.

“I swear on my dead seed, you cock suckin’ faggot. I’ma murder you! I swear on everything!” he yelled into the phone, then flung it with all his might at the wall, exploding it in a shower of pieces. Then he went to pieces, falling to his knees and crying uncontrollably for his slain family.

∞

Finesse hung up the phone and looked down at the dead baby floating in the tub. Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to kill the child, but after he had gunned down his mother and grandmother, he felt like he didn’t have much choice.

He knew that Everlast didn’t have much of a family. His mother and his girl were all he had. So with them gone, he envisioned the child growing up in foster homes, then group homes, and then juvenile centers. Then he’d probably be killed or kill someone and end up in prison like his father. A life of pain was not life at all, so to Finesse, it was a mercy killing.

“Yo, let’s go,” Bam said, sticking his head in the bathroom door.

Finesse took one last look at the dead child and walked out, being careful not to step in the splattered blood.

“You think he got the message?” Bam chuckled as they walked out.

Finesse laughed.