The Pussy Trap 2 Read online

  “I think he likes you,” he said, placing his lips to hers and kissing her so deeply and passionately that he took her breath away. She pulled back, almost panting.

  “What’s the matter?” He began kissing her collarbone.

  “I never do things like this. I guess . . . I’m a little scared.” She melted in his arms.

  “Don’t worry, baby. I told you I would be real gentle.” He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom.

  Once they entered the shower, he let her body slide down his. Staring in her eyes, he requested, “Can I let your hair down?”

  Monique nodded yes.

  He took off the clip and her hair fell down to her lower back, long, black and wavy. Tyquan loved long hair. He grinned his approval because Monique was passing all of his tests. He released her breasts from her bra and placed his mouth over one and gently sucked until he moved to the other one. Monique closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as her breathing increased. He popped the strap to her thong, and she gasped as it dropped to the shower floor. He continued to suck her nipple as he circled his hand on her clit. The water showered over them and Monique felt like she had stepped outside her body.

  “Turn around. I need something sweet on my tongue,” he said as he turned her. She placed her hands on the wall and bent over slightly. He took off his boxers and went to one knee, grabbed her butt cheeks and went to work eating her pussy like there was a trophy to be passed out afterward.

  “Oh . . . My . . . God . . .” Monique yelled out over and over as she tried to hold on without falling over. “I’m about to cum . . .” she said. “Ahhhh,” she shouted for the third time.

  Tyquan was in his glory. He had made her cum three times and hadn’t even given her the dick yet. Standing up and rinsing her juices from his face, he watched Monique keep her balance by placing her hands on the wall. With her head down and stomach heaving in and out, he eased behind her and slid his dick inside her wet pussy. Her intense moans matched her tightness, which confirmed that no one had been up in her in a long time.

  Monique tried her best not to cry as the feeling of pain and pleasure overtook her body. Tyquan stroked long and deep from the back as he placed soft kisses up and down her back.

  “Tyquan . . . oh my God . . . right there.”

  “Right here?” He picked up a little speed.

  “Yesss . . . Yessss . . . There . . .” she said as she began to cum again.

  He went in deep, grinding in the spot until she came, screaming and crying at the same time. He pulled out and turned her around and held her in his arms.”You know you belong to me now, right?”

  “Maybe,” she said, playfully.

  “Well, let me seal the deal.” He picked her up and placed her legs around his waist. Then he entered her and went to work. Tyquan had her up against every wall in the bathroom. Finally, he carried her to the bed and made her wish there was a trap door or some kind of escape from his merciless stroke. When he was done, she couldn’t see or move. He rose up and looked down at her body, limp and satisfied.

  “Now you have to make me cum.” He began kissing and sucking her lips.

  All Monique could think was, Oh my God! This nigga is charged the fuck up. She said, “I don’t know if I can take anymore.”

  “Well, you got forty-eight more hours to please me. You better pray and ask God for mercy because I don’t have none. I’m about to go into overdrive.” He slid back in and fucked her into a coma.

  ****

  When the weekend ended, Tyquan drove Monique to work on Monday morning in his limo. She stepped out in her $2,000 dollar suit he had sent to the room for her. He came around and hugged her tight. “Any regrets?” he asked, placing a single kiss on her lips.

  “None, baby. Not one,” she said as she reminisced about the weekend.

  He reached in his pocket and handed her his card with all his information and ten thousand dollars.

  “What’s this for?” Monique looked down at the money as she began to immediately feel used.

  “It’s not like that. I want you to buy yourself some nice things so you can be ready for me when I send for you.”

  “Send for me?”

  “Yes. I have to leave town. But I will be stationary in about three weeks, and I’m going to send for you. So you can bring your beautiful ass to me so I can see those pretty legs on my shoulders.”

  “What makes you think I’ll cum whenever you call?” she asked with a sexy smile.

  “You came all weekend. My reputation speaks for itself.” Tyquan kissed her again. “If you need anything, call me.” He turned her loose. “Go to work before you make me late for my flight.” He smiled as he watched her walk away.

  From that day forward it was just as he said. He would send for her whenever he was stationary. This went on for a year. Then the unplanned happened. She became pregnant with Kayson, and Tyquan was perfectly happy about it. He got her a bigger place, furnished it, and bought her a car so she would be able to get around. When Kayson was born, Tyquan was right there and named him. He stayed until he was two weeks old. Tyquan continued to come back and forth until Kayson turned three.Then the visits became too far and too few in between, but he would always send her money by a trusted friend.

  When Kayson turned four, Tyquan came by and they had one last weekend together. With teary eyes he explained to Monique that he had to go away for both of their safety. Monique burst out crying as the pain of his words pierced her soul.

  “Why did you make me love you only to rip out my heart like a cancer?”

  “Baby, it’s not like that. I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’m not who you think I am. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

  He looked over at Kayson, who was fast asleep in his mother’s bed. He kissed his cheek and turned toward Monique and said, “Take care of my son. He is going to be somebody.”

  They hugged a few times and then he was gone. Every Thursday someone would either show up at her house or job with thousands of dollars, and she would bank it for Kayson and herself. At first, different people would do the drop offs, but then a regular started to come every week. That regular was Malik, KoKo’s father. Malik would not only come and give her money, they would talk and laugh, and she would even cook him dinner sometimes.

  KoKo sat staring at Monique with glassy eyes. Monique paused took a deep breath and then continued. “Malik began to tell me about his situation with Keisha and his wife Sabrina and how he had two daughters, one with each of them and how he loved them both,” Monique said to KoKo. “His revelations made my situation with Tyquan not seem so bad, until one night while sitting and talking he leaned in and kissed me so passionately. I gave in and those Thursday drop offs became more than just stop and go. He would spend the night and give me what I needed—some good dick and companionship.”

  KoKo looked on in silence.

  “When Kayson turned five, we started spending time with you and your father.” Monique looked at KoKo. “Then one night when he was supposed to bring me money he didn’t come. Instead, his buddy Nine came and gave me Malik’s chain and a large amount of money. Then he delivered the most devastating news to me that I had ever received. Your father was dead. I felt like shit. Nine stayed with me for a little while and then he stood to leave. He let me know that if I needed anything to call him. Nine was what I call the holder of secrets. He knew everything, and his lips were like Fort Knox. If you can ever find him he will tell you everything you need to know. He used to say, “I’ll let the children grow up and claim their own revenge.”

  KoKo sat there trying to remain calm while listening to this woman baring her soul like she was talking to one of her friends, when in actuality she was another one of her father’s dirty secrets. “Wait a minute. You mean to tell me you were one of my dad’s mistresses?”

  “I guess in a way I was.” She paused and chuckled. “I loved Malik. It was impossible for anyone to not love him. He was that type of character.” />
  “So what you’re saying is if I find this nigga, Nine, I can get to the root of who put that hit on my father and mother?”

  “I know you will. He has been waiting for you to get to this point.”

  “Why didn’t Kayson tell me?”

  “He was onto something, and I think that’s what got him killed. He didn’t want to tell you until he had the nigga in a body bag. Malik had become a father figure to him, and he felt he owed you and him some justice. Don’t be angry with your husband. Kayson loved you more than life and just wanted you to be safe. He gave his life for you, KoKo. You find these muthafuckas and make them pay.”

  KoKo sat straight up and took a few more deep breaths in an attempt to stop the tears from falling down her face. “On the life of my son. They will pay,” she avowed.

  One year later . . .

  KoKo had been heavy into her business with the Russians and the Colombians now pushing black heroin in New York along with crystal meth. She still upheld the deal Kayson had with the Japanese, flipping counterfeit money. Her real estate ventures were racking up nicely, along with the businesses in different states, not to mention all the property Kayson left her in Dubai. However, she was trying to get into a different bed. KoKo had made a trip to Atlanta to check on opening a club. She figured this was going to be a perfect trap spot. Not only was she going to have the most jumping spot in the ‘A’, but she was going to recruit one of the baddest bitches in Atlanta to run it.

  That Saturday night, KoKo was cruising Downtown Atlanta headed for the strip club, Magic City. The air was warm and the streets were jumping like a typical summer night. As she pulled her Rolls Royce Phantom onto Forsyth Street, all she saw was a block filled with niggas on the prowl, and high post bitches trying to get chosen. Then there were chicken heads waiting to be plucked. However, KoKo’s focus was dollar signs. Each muthafucka out there had a price on their head, and she was adding it up. She pulled up in front, parked, and jumped out wearing jeans and a fitted T-shirt and blazer, accompanied by high heeled ankle boots. Being as though she had created all these legitimate businesses, she had gotten into the habit of dressing up, and the bitch would throw it on like lotion.

  KoKo handed the parking attendant three yards and headed to the front door where this big Afro-Cuban bouncer named Chico The Crusher stood at 6’3″, and weighed 300 pounds. He had the reputation for mashing a nigga out if he thought they were going to act up.

  “What’s up, KoKo?” he asked with a smile and then kissed her on the cheek.

  “Sheeit . . . I can’t call it.”

  Chico opened the velvet rope so she could enter. Bitches were sucking their teeth, rolling their eyes and whispering, apparently swoll because they had been standing in line for hours and here came little KoKo walking right past them.

  KoKo turned and looked at them like dirt. She smirked and then asked Chico, “Is she here tonight?”

  “Yeah, just go inside and Janice the hostess will take you to her.”

  “A’ight, make sure they take care of my baby,” she said as she looked over at her car.

  “I’ma treat it like it’s mine,” he said in his thick Spanish accent.

  KoKo smiled and moved through the doors. Once inside, she was amazed by the crowd. It seemed like business was jumping. She knew that her spot would be a sure ‘‘nuff money maker.

  Janice, the club’s assistant manager, walked up to KoKo and said, “Good to see you. Follow me.” Janice knew KoKo was about business. She wasn’t about all that small talk, so she made sure to get her to where she needed to be as quick as possible.

  KoKo followed her to a room with a double mirror where she could witness Goldie dealing with the girls before they went out to perform. It was Goldie’s tradition to give them a pep talk, or as she called it “putting the pimp hand down.” She figured she would warn a bitch first, so she wouldn’t have to put her foot in ’anybody’s ass later. KoKo looked at the women rushing around half-dressed in g-strings, pasties, and an array of other costumes. Some females had on masks or were covered in body glitter. She murmured, “Ain’t this some shit.” Then she watched Goldie do her thang.

  “Look, y’all need to handle y’all business. Don’t be out there trying to date these tricks. They here to spend money and y’all here to make it. We don’t walk up to an ATM and suck its dick, so don’t do that to the customers. You have to stroke that muthafucka’s mental, and if he ain’t trying to go in his pockets to pay for the fantasy then you politely move on. Don’t let me hear about no fucking crack head moves at the end of the night.”

  Every one nodded in agreement. Goldie looked around. “A’ight hoes, let’s get that money.”

  Everyone hurried to finish getting ready when this chick named Loren came over to Goldie.

  “Goldie, I was wondering if I could get a couple hundred advance on my check until next week?”

  Goldie frowned and said, “Why do you need an advance? I pay you well. You don’t have no fucking kids or major shit to pay for, plus you leave here with a different nigga every night. What’s the deal?”

  “I’m broke, Goldie, and I have some shit I need to take care of,” she said as she folded her arms and shifted her weight to one side.

  “Bitch, how the fuck are you broke?” Goldie asked, pointing at Loren’s pussy. “You sittin’ on a fucking gold mine. I can’t see how the fuck you talking about you broke.”

  Loren stared at Goldie like she was crazy. Then she thought, No the fuck she didn’t. She started to say something, but was cut short.

  “Why the fuck you looking at me like that? I just don’t get it. I can’t see how you could be broke. You fucking, ain’t you?” Goldie waited for a response. “Ain’t you?” she reiterated.

  “Yeah,” Loren said matter-of-factly.

  “Well, bitch, if you fucking and ain’t getting paid, you ain’t just a broke bitch, you stupid.” Goldie looked around at the girls and raised her voice even more. “I don’t understand how you bitches be having niggas jumping all up and down in yo’ ass and then you got bills due and shit.”

  One of Goldie’s top workers said, “Oh shit, they done got Goldie started.”

  “It puzzles me . . . Y’all bitches be out here fucking for trinkets. Sheeit! I make a muthafucka pay for every stroke. How you gonna be fuckin’ and be broke?” Goldie looked Loren in the eyes waiting for a response, but cricket sounds occupied the room. “Hell no, I can’t give you no advance. Shit, I don’t suck dick to pay your fuckin’ bills. You betta go ask the nigga whose dick you keep in your mouth and shooting loads into the back of your throat to advance you something.” Goldie turned to walk away. As she got to the door, she yelled out, “Silly bitches, get to work. Time is money.”

  KoKo was more than impressed. She needed this ruthless, no-nonsense type bitch on her team. KoKo looked at Janice and then said, “Take me to her office.”

  When KoKo walked into Goldie’s office, she was sitting at her desk smoking a Black and Mile and drinking a glass of Bacardi bomber.

  “So I hear you need someone to run your new club?” Goldie asked, looking at KoKo and feeling full of herself.

  “Bitch, I don’t need shit,” KoKo said, looking Goldie dead in her eyes. “Who the fuck do you think I am? One of them bitches you was scolding like a fuckin’ child? You acting like you caught me sucking dicks for five in the back.” KoKo took her nine from the small of her back and slammed it on the table. “This is the only dick I can make bust off and get me all the money, power, and respect I need. And I don’t have to give up no pussy to get it.”

  Goldie kept eye contact and tried to be cool on the outside, but on the inside she trembled.

  “Now, either you can handle being on my team or you can’t. However, don’t ever get what I want confused with what I need.” KoKo looked her up and down and then chuckled. “Do I need you? Sheeit. Unless you gonna grow a ten-inch dick then you’ll never have anything I need.” She put her gun back and headed to the door. “I�
��ll be in touch.”

  Goldie watched KoKo exit. She took a deep breath and held her chest. “Shit. That bitch is crazy.” She quickly downed her drink, reached in her drawer and grabbed a blunt and lit it up. Taking a deep pull, she sat for a minute and thought about her encounter with KoKo. Then she asked, “Can I work for a bitch like that?” She tossed the idea around momentarily. “Hell yeah,” she finally answered.

  A few minutes later, Chico walked into Goldie’s office and asked, “So what do you think?”

  “Man, she pulled a fuckin’ gun on me.”

  Chico laughed. “Yeah, that’s KoKo. She don’t play. Damn, she pulled out on you? What you do to make her do that?”

  “All I said was ‘I heard that you need me to help run your club.’ Then she went off. I thought I was going to make the ten o’ clock news,” she stated and then laughed.

  “It is always best to ask her, ‘how can I assist you’. She don’t need nobody. That bitch is a boss. And she ain’t afraid to take a nigga out to maintain her throne,” Chico said with a certain amount of strength and fear. He knew he was strong in his spot, but he also knew that KoKo had a strong reputation and an organization to match. Them muthafuckas would kill the president in the middle of a speech on prime time, and then walk up to the prison, knock on the door, and do their time with no regrets.

  “Well, I think I can handle my shit. If she decides she wants me, I’ll be ready.” Goldie put the Black to her mouth and took another deep pull. She turned in her chair to watch the monitors.

  Chico nodded. “Just don’t cross her,” he said before turning to walk out of her office.