The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(74)

Nona screamed, “Blake! What the f*ck, man, are you nuts?!” She sped up, reaching a hundred miles an hour in no time.

“Just drive, baby,” Blake said, looking back at the flaming wreckage. “The Michigan City exit is right up here. Slow down ’fore we f*ck around and get pulled over.”

Too late.

An Indiana State Trooper vehicle popped up out of nowhere and hit its flashing lights. It veered around the upside down Dodge. Sped past Lil Meach’s black Range Rover.

Blake’s IPhone5 chimed. It was Streets.

“Damn, li’l bruh,” Streets said as the squad car got behind his Ferrari. “Was that them niggas who--”

“Yeah, that was them.” Blake checked his rearview mirror. Streets was pulling over to the side of the highway, and the cop was, too. “Bruh, just play it cool, a’ight? Shit. Shit, they might think the gunshot came from yo’ car.”

Blake heard the cop shout. “Turn off your engine and put your hands out the window! NOW!”

“Damn,” said Blake.

“Fuck,” said Streets.





Chapter 48

Even though T-Walk had forced his ex-girlfriend, Ashley “Thunder” Hunter to get an abortion a few months ago, she still clung to him like white on rice, texting and calling him incessantly asking for this and that. A Birkin bag here. A pair of Louboutins there. So he was not at all surprised to see her beautiful Nigerian face when he answered the knock at his office door.

She sashayed in wearing a backless red Valentino mini-dress (T-Walk remembered paying $30,000 for it) that thoroughly accentuated her stallion-esque lower half. Red diamond earrings ($85,000 out of T-Walk’s wallet) blinged in her ears.

“I was looking for you in the VIP section,” she said, pressing her fluffy lips against his as he filled his hands with her huge ass. “Your guy Squirm said you came up here to grab something.”

“I’m grabbing all I want to grab right now,” T-Walk said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah. How’d you know I was here?”

“I followed you.” She smiled as he pushed the door shut. “What’s wrong with Tasia? She looked like she was pissed.”

T-Walk shrugged his shoulders, and pulled Thunder down to the sumptuous black carpet. He had come up to his old office to get the Glock-27 he kept in his safe, and to watch the clique of Dub Life niggas that had entered his nightclub less than fifteen minutes ago. He’d been watching them from his second-floor office’s mirrored windows when Thunder’s soft knock had sounded.

He got on top of her and started kissing and sucking on her neck. His head was a merry-go-round, no thanks to the bottle of Ciroc he’d finished, and now his mouth was watering as he anticipated the taste of Thunder’s sweet *.

As soon as she took off her panties, he moved his mouth down to her inner thighs and began kissing them in the same passionate way he’d kissed her neck. When the scrumptious scent of her warm * became too much to bear, he swiped his tongue up and down its juicy lips, squeezing her meaty black thighs in his palms. Then he applied his flickering tongue to her clitoris and watched her shudder.

“Oooh, yeah,” she moaned, playing with T-Walk’s ears. “I almost forget how talented you were with that tongue. Mmm… mmm, keep doing that.”

But no urging was needed. He would have continued anyway. The feast between her thighs was too irresistible to leave uneaten.

So he ate until she started shaking and gushing her sugary juices onto his eagerly fluctuating tongue. Then he told her to turn over while he took off his clothes.

“You know the drill,” he said, slapping his dick on her enormous ass cheeks. “Face down, and lift that fat ass up.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, then squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her bottom lip as he sank his thick pole deep into her sopping-wet *. He pushed her dress up so that it covered her head and pounded in and out of her dripping hole, ogling her wobbling butt cheeks. Thunder had ass for days. In fact, she’d gotten her nickname during a UGK video shoot when she had been twerking and making her ass clap. Fucking her was one of the few things in life that T-Walk knew he would never tire of doing. Especially since she was the most popular cast member of his hit reality TV show, Brick House of Jupiter Island.

Within ten minutes her snug juicebox became too much for him to endure. He snatched his dick out, intent on striping her jiggling cheeks with his semen, but she turned around and sucked the head into her mouth just as the first warm spurt of cum shot out of it.

Her sexy dark face twisted into an expression like that of a person who’d just bitten into a sour lemon, and her throat muscles contracted several times as she swallowed his cum. Her wet lips bobbed slowly on the tip of his deflating muscle until it was limp in her mouth. Then she stood up and fixed her dress.

T-Walk got dressed and, lighting a Newport, plopped down in the chair behind his desk. He picked up his smartphone and saw that Squirm had sent him a text with a link to CNN.com. He clicked on it and read:

‘Rapper Bulletface’s car riddled with bullets outside Chicago nightclub; no suspects in custody’

T-Walk smiled.

“What are you smiling at?” Thunder asked, sauntering over to the mirrored floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the clubs’ jam-packed first floor. “Was I that good? You miss this * that much?”