Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2

Charlie pivoted and marched away from them. Once again, her name was mud on the streets.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chanel couldn’t sleep. How could she after seeing her sister lowered into the ground last week? She tried to block everything out, but it felt impossible. After seeing that casket go down into the dirt, the horrific events of the home invasion came flooding back. Her rape felt like it happened yesterday. Claire’s suicide and her burial had triggered something inside of Chanel, and it was becoming harder for her to shake it off. It could have easily been her and Mateo being buried. God and Charlie were two dangerous people. Chanel felt lucky to be alive, but she felt haunted by some creepy entity. She felt that something was coming after her—chasing her. She felt cursed almost.

She tried to get some sleep, but it wasn’t happening. It was after midnight and her bedroom felt too still—too quiet. It felt like something was in there with her. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She wanted some comfort, and she knew exactly where to find it. She got up from her bed and exited the room.

Pyro was shocked when he heard the faint tapping on his bedroom door. He got up from the bed wearing only his boxers and opened it. There was Chanel in her T-shirt with a sad look on her face.

“You okay?” he asked her.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? I can’t sleep. I’m having these upsetting visions, and they’re bothering me.”

“Yeah. Sure,” he said.

Chanel crawled into Pyro’s bed and snuggled against him. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be protected by him. Pyro was the only person who made her feel secure. She laid her head against his chest and exhaled. Eventually, she felt at ease and secure in his arms. She could feel the warmth from his body. She wasn’t seeing any more upsetting visions while lying with Pyro.

She felt so soft and curvy against him. He didn’t want to let her go. Her smell was enticing. His dick was hard for her. He wanted to feel her again. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she made him feel and the way she made him come. Mecca was good, but sex with Chanel was something completely different.

He didn’t want to make a move on her unless she wanted the same thing too. Unfortunately for him, Chanel quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Pyro was awakened by Chanel softly rubbing on his chest and stomach. Groggily, he gazed into her eyes.

“Thank you for holding me last night,” she said.

“You know I got you, Chanel.”

“I know. You’re always there for me.”

“Whenever you need me,” he assured her.

She smiled and continued to massage his chest and stomach. Pyro cupped her face into his hands and a deep and passionate kiss ensued. Soon, the little bit of clothes they had on came off, and their flesh met once again. Chanel was on her back looking into Pyro’s eyes, her legs wrapped around him. Once again, he thrust himself inside her without a condom and she moaned. His hard dick was hitting her spot and he was about to make her come. He fucked her slowly and with conviction, and the wet, lathered juices coating his dick told him that she loved every second of it.

“Ooooh, Pyro . . . I . . . I love you,” she whispered to him as she felt his hard dick steadily move in and out of her.

He heard the words, but he didn’t respond to them. Instead, he continued to please her. He drove deeper into her flesh, and her cries became primal as she felt herself about to come.

Pyro gave Chanel her first orgasm of the morning, but they weren’t done. It was one of several that she was going to have this morning. The two twisted around on his bed, subsequently becoming knotted underneath the sheets.

The more pleasure he gave her, the more she gave him. Now the sheets were on the floor and they were fucking on the bare mattress. He continued to thrust inside of her, feeling his orgasm brewing. At first, Pyro was tempted to come inside of her without a condom. He wanted to finish off strong and not pull out, but he knew it would be a mistake. He pulled out just in time as his semen spilled onto Chanel’s smooth stomach. He watched her body react with tremors from another orgasm. They collapsed together on the bed, sweat covering their bodies. They were both exhausted.

Chanel gazed into Pyro’s eyes and smiled warmly.

“I love you too,” he said.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Charlie gulped from the bottle of 1800 tequila like it was a bottle of water. She was lounging on the couch in the dark, trying to drink her troubles away. She was supposed to be living her best life, but muthafuckas kept getting in her way. She was frustrated, lonely, and she had no man and no one to harass, kill, or bully. Claire was dead, and she couldn’t get a location on Chanel. She wanted to set Chanel’s pretty white Range Rover on fire and watch it burn. She wanted to slice her sister’s face to shreds and have Pyro and Mateo murdered.

Those were her twisted and demonic wishes.

She was furious that the NYPD couldn’t get an address on these Bronx muthafuckas. There seemed to be some kind of hedge of protection surrounding Chanel that she couldn’t penetrate.

She had just taken another hearty swig of tequila when the familiar hard banging at her door startled her. She frowned and got up and opened the door to see two New Jersey detectives. The moment they flashed their badges, Charlie’s stomach did a somersault. She knew exactly why there were there. God AKA Godfrey Williams.

Fuck!

“Charlie Brown?” the detective queried.