Sex in the Hood Saga by White Chocolate Page A

her, pimp her, I don’t know. I don’t care. Just make sure she doesn’t step one foot into Babylon.”
    Milan opened her robe again, lay back on the couch, and spread her legs wide open. Her body looked like an evil face: nipples for eyes, an “outie” belly button for a nose, and that gapped-open brown-and-pink pussy was the mouth trying to suck him into hell.
    â€œYou’re going to do all of that, of course,” Milan said with that playmate/drill sergeant voice, “after you eat my pussy.”
    Beamer’s mouth watered because her pussy was beautiful. It was still tight, even after two babies, and it was still good, real good. But that bitch who was attached to it made everything sweet about her body go sour.
    â€œDon’t make me have to cum by myself.” She pressed her long, gold fingernail onto her inch-long clit, rubbing it in circles. Her nipples pointed at him like poison darts.
    Damn, that pussy look good. But she makin’ a triple-dead sucka mothafucka outta me.
    â€œEat my pussy. Now!”
    If I’m gon’ die, I might as well get as much good pussy as I can first. He pressed his face into his own sticky nut all over her pussy. He rubbed his face around. He wasn’t just going to drink the poison; he was going to savor every sip.
    â€œOoooh, shit. Think about how you ain’t gon’ let Duke fuck that white bitch. Think about how if he try, you gon’ tell me so I can get a fresh manicure before I kill the bitch with my own pretty little hands.”

Chapter 10
    Even though she was dizzy from hunger, the first thing Victoria did when they arrived at the upscale restaurant on the river was go to the bathroom and make herself cum. The whole drive there, she had squirmed in her seat, making a soaking wet mess of her panties. Panic was gripping her throat, anxiety about her life turning her insides into a nest of wasps stinging her from the inside out. Something about that guy—that enormous, dark chocolate god who twenty-four hours ago she never would have even considered talking with much less going to dinner—was turning her into a boiling vat of cum cream. And that rap music, the kind Brian was always playing, was arousing something rebellious and wild within her. She’d almost made herself cum in the car by squeezing her pussy muscles in rhythm to that music that Duke said was Bang Squad.
    I can’t believe how hard I just came, in the bathroom, thinking about his lips.
    Making herself cum mellowed her mind. It cured the sting. Especially when she thought about his dick and how he would feel. Fucking was a totally abstract idea because she had no real life reference point. All she knew was what her friends told her, and they’d all complained that losing their virginity was painful and disappointing. Even Tiffany complained, though she was like a little rabbit with Jake because, she said, “Once you pop it, you just can’t stop it. You crave it constantly.”
    If that were true with nerdy-looking Jake, then what would happen with sexy, studly Duke? Whatever it was, Victoria wanted it. But she would never, ever get it.
    This is so dangerous. I’m already a nympho by myself, but if I let Celeste loose on him, I might never get out of bed! My deathbed. Or his.
    So, walking back through the restaurant to Duke Johnson, sitting so cool at a table framed by the bright blue Detroit River and the downtown skyline, Victoria focused on her goal tonight. She had to strategize how he could help her find a better place to live. If this guy had so much pull, maybe he could help her get an emergency loan.
    Henry said he wants to help me, so—
    As she sat down, a gray-haired white man in a business suit glared at her from a nearby table. He said something to his frothy-haired wife, who shook her head with disgust. Had they seen her on TV? Had they known Daddy? “Why is everyone staring at us?” Victoria asked.