The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(37)

Blake wanted to hear more, but the bad redbone sitting next to him was pushing open her door, and Alexus’ motorcade was pulling into the drive way. He told Douglass he’d see him in Chicago in the a.m., then ended the poignant call and stepped out of the car.

“Is that Alexus?” Chyna asked, her tone replete with awe as the long white Hummer limousine parked beneath a palm tree on the other side of the bronze fountain that centered the circular drive.

“Yeah, that’s her. Go around back to the pool. I’ll be there in, like, one minute,” Blake said, walking toward the limo.

Alexus emerged from the rear door and pounced on him as if she were a ravenous jungle beast, folding her legs around his waist, biting at his lower lip and kissing him at the same time. He smelled liquor on her breath. Tasted it. The twelve girls that climbed out of the limo behind her each held bottles of Ace of Spades.

“You been drinkin’?” Blake asked between kisses.

“A little bit,” Alexus admitted smilingly. “I’m also rolling off two pills.” She snickered. “My panties are soaked.”

Mercedes asked, “Where is Kenny?”’

“Out back by the pool,” Blake said as he turned and headed that way, spreading and slapping the fleshy protuberances of his fiancée’s rump.

“I’m not letting you get drunk and pass out on us tonight,” she muttered, trailing a curve of kisses from his lips to the ten-carat white diamond in his left earlobe. “We’re having a threesome with Tee-Tee before we go to bed. She hasn’t had a dick in her in over two and a half years.”

“I already got us somebody for that,” he told her.

She pulled back, eyeing him. “Who is it?”

“A stripper from K.O.D.”

“Is she cute?”

“‘Cute’ ain’t even the word. She’s bad, baby.”

“Really?” Alexus became thoughtful. She inserted an index fingernail between her teeth and lightly bit down on it. “I supposed we could have a foursome.”

“I suppose we could,” Blake beamed.

She slapped him gently across the cheek, biting the corner of her bottom lip. They were passing a row of bright lawn lights on the side of the massive Spanish-style mansion, the lights to their right, an outdoor restaurant beneath a black retractable awning to their left. Three chefs were scrambling around in the stainless steel kitchen, preparing barbecue chicken wings and drumsticks, cheesy nacho platters, fried shrimp, crab cakes, and fruit and salad bowls for the impromptu pool party.

Thirty feet ahead lay the swimming pool. The Travelers and two of the Mafias—Kenny-Lord and Pat—were hunched over a crap game on the elevated patio behind the mansion, and the other three guys were already in the pool with the girls.

There were five lounge chairs set up beside the pool. Blake thoughtlessly chose the middle one to recline in and found himself sandwiched between Tasia and Mercedes. Sitting on top of him, Alexus took off his shades and dropped them in her shoulder bag with her own shades.

“So,” she asked, flicking her eyes toward the pool, “which on are you talking about?”

Blake followed her gaze and spotted Chyna sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, typing something on her smartphone. He started to point her out to Alexus, but then Tasia began yapping.

“Starting tomorrow Cereniti and I are going to be busy shooting our reality show in Chicago,” Tasia said to Mercedes. “I need you to keep an eye on these two for me. Especially Blake’s’ black ass. Call me if you suspect anything out of the ordinary.”

“Girl, you ain’t even gotta trip on that,” Mercedes quipped, “cause I’m on his ass anyway.”

Alexus lowered her lips to Blake’s and molded them together, silencing the critics with a passionate kiss; mumbling something about a bathing suit, Tasia stood and sauntered into the mansion via the rear patio doors, and Mercedes—along with the rest of their entourage—followed behind her.

“Tee-Tee,” Alexus shouted before Cereniti could make it into the mansion. “Come here for a minute.” Then she looked down at Blake and again asked him which girl was the K.O.D. stripper.

He waved Chyna over and was just about to introduce her to Alexus when suddenly Alexus leapt to her feet and grabbed a hold of his hand.

“Let’s hurry up and go before the haters return,” Alexus said, laughing ecstatically.

As the four of them were lancing back around to the front of the big white mansion, Cereniti asked, “Yo, where the hell we going?”

“To the Hummer,” Alexus answered.

Blake didn’t really give a damn where they were going; they could have been en route to Mars for all he cared. He was about to be alone with three bad bitches. Nothing else mattered.

The party started as soon as they climbed into the stretch Hummer. There were two twelve-count cases of Armand de Brignac—one open and empty, the other unopened—stacked on the hardwood floor inside the 220” limousine. While Blake cracked open two bottles, Cereniti turned on the CD player and the DVD player. Seconds later, Gucci Mane’s latest mix-tape, “Trap Back,” was blaring throughout the limo, and a Nyomi Banxxx porn was playing on the five flat screen televisions.

“Driver,” Alexus said after pressing a button that lowered the black privacy glass. “Do you mind driving us to the Versace mansion?”