The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(57)

The melodic tune of Nona’s moans and the creamy tightness of her * became too intense for Blake to handle. He let go inside of her and his cum oozed down his twitching pole. She rode him a few seconds longer, then dropped her full weight down onto him and gyrated around a bit before turning around and collapsing onto his chest.

For a moment she was silent. She was breathing just as heavily as Blake was, and tiny globules of seat were glistening all over the both of them. Caressing and kneading Nona’s ample mounds of derriere, Blake inhaled the sweet scent of her Beyoncé Heat perfume and waited for his breathing to settle.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Nona asked.

“You just did, genius.”

She rolled her pretty eyes, smiling up at him with her chin resting on his chest. “How’d you feel when Alexus gave you that five hundred million dollars? I mean, what was going through your head?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I’m only asking because I was watching CNN the other day and saw that Warren Buffett had just given his three grandkids six hundred million apiece for his eighty-second birthday. I can’t even imagine having that much money. I’d probably buy a mansion for every one of my family members, cars for every one of my friends, food and clothes for thousands of homeless people.” She giggled softly, toying with his massive quarter-million-dollar MBM pendant. “I’d be broke in a week.”

“That’s that genius in you,” Blake said, combing his fingers through her curly blonde-dyed hair. “When I got that money, the first thing I did was hit my momma and my pops wit’ a couple million. Then I looked out for my Dub Life niggas in Michigan City and the Travelers I f*ck wit’ out here in Chicago. I didn’t really spend nothin’ after that. Alexus was spoilin’ me. She bought my clothes, my jewelry, my cars—basically everything I ever wanted. Money, hoes, cars, and clothes, a dope boys’ dream, and she gave me all of that. She moved Momma and Pops into a big-ass mansion in California, right down the road from Heidi Klum’s mansion. She bought me that Bugatti Veyron Super Sport. She bought me a four-million-dollar necklace full of big-ass yellow diamonds, with a diamond-flooded pendant of my face like the one Rick Ross had. On some real shit, I felt like I was dreamin’. That bitch bought a hundred-million-dollar Boeing 757 jet earlier this year and had it customized! Ain’t that some wild shit? Niggas in my hood ain’t never even had a half a million till I got on. Now I got all my niggas eatin’. The whole clique iced out. I can’t even lie, I’m kinda upset about how shit ended, but I’m still good. At least I’m alive. Not many niggas who done been shot twelve times can say that.”

“You’re gonna get shot twelve more times if you keep hanging out in this f*cked up city,” Nona warned. “Word on the street is that you killed some niggas on Fifteenth and Trumbull last year, and I hear Reesie Cup isn’t too happy about it.”

“So muhf*ckin what? I’m a boss. Ain’t no nigga finna run me out of Chicago. Cup can get murked just like I can get murked.”

“Yeah, but he’s a gang chief, a five star universal elite of the TVLs. You know how ruthless the Vice Lords can be. My girl Jessica said her boyfriend told her that the Travelers were only f*cking with you because you had kilos of cocaine and heroin for the low, and now they’re getting their dope from some GDs in Gary. Jessica said they’re the same niggas who were in that YouTube video with T-Walk.”

“Was one of ‘em in a white Hummer?” Blake asked.

“Yup. A white H2 on some big chrome rims. I think his name’s Worm or… no, it’s Squirm. I met him at The Visionary Lounge a few weeks ago. Twista and Chief Keef were there performing that night. He came in with a big black nigga named Gusto, another dark-skinned dude name Ant, and a third nigga who I didn’t get to meet. They were popping bottles of Ace of Spades and smoking Kush all night. Squirm was with Cereniti, the stripper chick from Down the Pole.”

Blake stowed the information in the back of his mind. He would ruminate over it later. Ever since Alexus’ unforgettable betrayal, Blake had been focused solely on his music career. Though most of his guys were still knee-deep in the dope game, he’d decided to leave the game alone, to distance himself from the Dub Life Goons and the Traveling Vice Lords so that he could enjoy his riches without having to look over his shoulder every second of every day. It made more sense for him to fall back and let his goons do all the trapping; with a net worth of $715 million, he was far too wealthy to be directly involving himself in any criminal activity.

He and Nona got up and stepped into the full marble shower for a while. Unable to keep his eyes off of her enormous ass, he took his time showering and dressing. He put on a white Trukfit hoody with matching sweatpants, a white Louis Vuitton skullcap, a white pair of Reebok Classics, a white leather Pelle Pelle jacket, and a gold-framed pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses.

“Am I Doug E. Fresh?” He asked once they’d made it back into the bedroom.

“More like Gucci Mane,” Nona said as she put on her Chicago Bulls mini-dress and black, red-bottomed Louboutin heels. She paused in front of the TV, glanced at the fifty-thousand-dollar pile of hundreds that was stacked up next to Blake’s gold-plated .50-caliber on the bedside table, and said, “Blake, I need, like, seventeen grand to buy this new Birkin bag I saw online this morning. It’s gray leather with diamond hardware, and I’ve just got to have it.”