Dirty Little Angel

YB knew he already said too much. He was a man about action, and with Rufus right behind him everyone knew that shots could ring out at any given moment.

It was the calm before the storm. Cherish stood by her man’s side and stared at YB and Rufus with the same bitterness as Crown. The quarrel between the two thugs was disrupting business, and wanting to avoid getting shot in the crossfire, a few customers began leaving.

“Yo, what the fuck y’all niggas doin’, disrupting my place of business!” Magic shouted.

The owner of the club came from the basement with an irritated scowl across his hard-looking face. Angel had called down to the basement and warned his boss that a situation was brewing between Crown and YB. Magic knew he had to head upstairs promptly and calm them down before they made his seedy underground club hot with gunfire.

“Yo, it ain’t nuthin’, Magic. Just a li’l dispute,” YB said.

“Fuck that, YB. Y’all niggas know better than to come up in here and actin’ out in my business. Take that shit to the Westside, nigga,” Magic barked.

Magic was an O.G from the days of the Black Mafia. He was in his early fifties, but still portrayed the image of a street thug. He was a young, unbreakable soul trapped in an aging man’s body. His presence alone was intimidating, but his reputation was carried through the streets like a cold winter wind.

Magic stared at YB and Crown with dark, menacing eyes. He was tall, still well built, and his aging brown skin was lined with a few wrinkles. His full head of hair was salt and pepper, harmonizing with his thick goatee. He was clad in a black, tight-fitting T-shirt and blue jeans stretched down over a pair of polished, black wingtip shoes. Magic looked good for his age, but his eyes had seen enough bloodshed, prisons, and drugs. When he stared at you for a long time, you almost turned cold from his gaze.

Magic came from an era where heroin was king of the streets. Back in his day, true gangsters sported tailored suits and didn’t run their mouths off like a bunch of bitches. His philosophy on the young generation today was that niggas were too soft and weren’t about shit except showing off and shooting each other over petty crimes.

“Yo, Magic, no disrespect to your place, but tell that bitch nigga over there to stay the fuck out my business,” Crown hissed.

“Fuck you, nigga!” YB retorted.

“Both y’all niggas chill,” Magic said with authority in his voice. “Y’all niggas either get your act right or get the fuck out my place.”

His statement was short, but well understood. Magic was one of the few men that both thugs respected and knew not to piss off.

Crown looked for his chicks and said, “Y’all bitches get your shit together. We out.”

Three of Crown’s hoes stopped their action and retreated to the dressing room.

“Chaos still fuckin’ that nigga?!” he shouted.

“You know that bitch don’t keep time wit’ them tricks,” Cherish said as she passed Crown and headed for the dressing room.

Crown angrily walked toward the VIP section.

YB wanted to do something, but he suddenly heard Magic calling him over. “YB, let me talk to you for a moment.”

YB gave Crown a hard glance and went over to Magic.

“Walk with me downstairs.”

YB knew that he would have to see Chaos another time. Magic demanded his time and he knew not to keep Magic waiting.

3

Bobby thrust into Chaos’s sweet, wet pussy from the back, one leg curled and sinking into the torn leather couch and the other on the floor, giving him support. He gripped Chaos’s sweaty hips and focused on busting his nut. Sweat escaped from his brow. He was naked from the waist down, his pants and underwear in a crumpled heap near his leg and the empty condom wrapper.

Chaos backed her phat ass against him like a machine as she clutched the armrest of the couch. She felt Bobby’s thick dick digging into her. Bobby stared down at the sexy yet simple tattoo on the small of Chaos’s back as he fucked her. The tattoo was barbed wire and roses, colored in black and red.

“Oh shit, your pussy is good, Chaos . . . oh, your pussy is so good . . . oh, your pussy is so good,” Bobby chanted.

“Hurry up, Bobby, cum for me,” Chaos replied, knowing that he needed to hurry up.

It had been twenty minutes so far, and she knew how Crown was with his time.

Bobby wanted to lick the sweat off Chaos’s back. He wanted to be nasty and kiss every inch of her and suck her toes—really show her a good time. The bliss that he felt inside Chaos’s body had his body trembling with every thrust. Bobby closed his eyes fucked her fervently, panting and grunting like a wild animal, ignoring everything around him.

The door to the room flew open and Crown marched in with a scowl on his face. Bobby turned around, shocked to see Crown coming toward him.