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  Chapter Nine

  The sight before them stopped them in their tracks. Jamal was in the store with a female paying for her purchase. Eron wasted no time.

  “Well, well, my brother, what do we have here?”

  Jamal looked up with not a surprised look but a “here we go, let’s get this over with” look. The girl turned to look at the man carrying the deep voice.

  Aaliyah was shocked when she saw who Jamal was with. Her name was Dior. She’d actually seen her on Marygrove’s campus.

  “Hey, Ms. Lady, how are you?” Aaliyah questioned.

  Dior smirked because she knew exactly who Aaliyah was. They would stop and chitchat around the school, but they never really kicked it. Aaliyah noticed that the bitch was fly, and Dior noticed the same thing. They had a mutual respect for each other’s presence and style.

  “What up, doe? How have you been? I haven’t seen you around much.”

  “I just been waiting on graduation to come and go.”

  “Yeah, I know. I can’t wait until this shit is over.”

  “So, I got to ask. How do you know my brother?” Aaliyah asked, watching Eron and Jamal chop it up and make purchases.

  Dior blushed. “That’s a different story for a different day, but I’ll definitely tell you. Plus we would have to sit down and talk about it.”

  “Ohhh cool, we can just grab a bite to eat.”

  Dior fell into full-blown laughter. She always knew there was something cool about Aaliyah. Most women hated on other women, but it was all love, and they didn’t even really know each other.

  “All right then, we can all go to J. Alexander’s since it’s here in the mall. I’m all done getting last-minute shit for graduation. Are you done?”

  “I just want to go into Herve Leger to grab this baby doll dress, and then I’ll be done.” Aaliyah wasn’t too worried about getting a new bag. She could always come back. She really wanted to know how Jamal and Dior knew each other.

  Aaliyah had Eron and Jamal grab a table while they made a quick trip to grab the dress. And quick it was. Aaliyah called Eron as they made it into the restaurant.

  Eron answered, “We are on the left to the back.” Aaliyah disconnected the call as she and Dior made their way around the restaurant. Aaliyah paid close attention to Jamal as he watched Dior come toward the table. The look that his face held was that of uncertainty and desire.

  The girls slid in next to their dates. Dior immediately introduced herself to Eron. After her rendezvous with Jamal, she kind of researched him and found out that Eron was his best friend and the man in the streets. Actually, both of their reputations spoke volumes around the underground streets of Detroit. They were now tackling legit businesses. Yup, Dior had done her research.

  “Hi, how you doing? I’m Dior.”

  “What up, Dior? It’s good to meet you. Good to finally put a face to a name.” Eron smirked, causing Dior and Jamal to do so too. Aaliyah looked on, a little baffled by the exchange.

  “What the fuck? Y’all know something I don’t know?” Aaliyah wondered aloud, looking at Eron and Jamal.

  “Man, I just heard about li’l mama. That’s your bro.”

  “Um. Okay.”

  Dior held the group in suspense. They had idle chitchat throughout dinner. Aaliyah and Dior talked about school, finding out that they had quite a bit in common. They both went to Mike from Salon DNA to get their hair styled. Not only that, but they both had early hair appointments tomorrow morning before graduation.

  Aaliyah couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay nah, shit. How do you two know each other?”

  “Damn, Liyah, you nosey as fuck. It was like this—”

  Jamal was interrupted by Dior. “I think I should tell it. It’s my truth, and I don’t give a fuck if they accept it. No disrespect, but you’ll probably want to judge.”

  Eron spoke up. “Man, this is your story. Who the fuck are we to judge? Shit ain’t all sweet this way.”

  Jamal and Aaliyah nodded in agreement. Jamal felt good that his brother was coming from a positive place.

  “Okay, here it is.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dior’s Story

  “Your remaining balance for your tuition will be five thousand dollar,” the lady in Marygrove College’s business office said smugly.

  Dior just smirked because she was used to females throwing her shade. She smiled at the lady as she counted out the five stacks from a ten-stack bundle.

  “Here you go!” Dior responded, watching the ugly broad’s eyes grow to the size of saucers. The lady had the nerve to look mad as she handed Dior her receipt. Dior grabbed her receipt and proceeded down the hall with her mean walk in Christian Louboutin’s, clicking down the hall.

  Dior was a head turner in every sense. She had this aura about her that you would notice before you noticed her beauty. She put most in the mind of Tika Sumpter, Malik’s girlfriend from the show The Game, and her body mimicked the rapper Nicki Minaj. She had milk chocolate skin, pretty light brown eyes, and gorgeous full lips. She didn’t have the biggest breasts, but they were perky and more than enough in most men’s eyes. Now, her ass was a different story. It was full, plump, and soft. Her waist was so small that her ass looked like a mountain sprouting out. Her body would’ve put some of these models to shame. She was authentic in every sense of the word from her body to attitude.

  She continued to her car as her phone started ringing.

  I got my change up; they looking like they surprised. Niggas hatin’ on me hard cause my paper right

  Dior couldn’t do nothing but bob her head and down to the Wiz Khalifa ringtone, because that was the story of her life. She checked the time. 6:00 p.m.

  “Hello.”

  “What up, baby? I’m trying to see you like ASAP! I got my homeboy with me, too,” replied A.J., this sexy, getting-money-ass east-side nigga. At least that’s what he appeared to be. A.J was six foot three and weighed 220 pounds. He had brown skin and was fine as hell. He was a little extra, but his money was long. Well, long enough to trick it off.

  All Dior could do was shudder because she got to have her two favorite things: money and two niggas in the bed with her. She didn’t do it often, but she liked that shit. Dior was different. She was an expensive bitch who loved to have two dicks in her at the same time, one in her pussy and one in her mouth. The sensation she received was that of another planet. It was like each thing complemented the other. Her pussy would get extremely wet and her mouth even wetter. It was all in the technique. If she was getting fucked right then, there was no limit to how many times she could cum. Although she really enjoyed it, she was very selective about who actually got it. She fucked niggas. They didn’t fuck her. It was her fantasy, so anybody she picked would drop funds for it.

  “Baby, you already know money is the motive!” she retorted. It was her usual comment when any nigga called her asking for a “favor.” Fair exchange ain’t robbery. So, Dior wasn’t tripping. She couldn’t give a fuck about how people viewed her.

  “Come on now, baby, you insulting me! Don’t I always look out handsomely?” A.J. answered arrogantly.

  “That’s very true!” Dior knew he respected her hustle, which was why she dealt with him. “When and where?”

  “Now, I got to go out of town by nine. I’m at MGM, room 1210,” A.J. told her as he hung up. Dior didn’t care that he hung up on her because his dick was good, but the money was always better. She never gave a price because he always left no less than $2,000.

  Dior proceeded quickly in her smoke gray 2010 Audi A8 to the Lodge freeway toward MGM. Dior was not regular. She exceeded expectations, especially once people found out how she liked to get down. She was a freak, simply put. She did shit in the bedroom that most bitches would like to do but were too embarrassed to speak it into existence. She looked at sex as something that was just supposed to get better every time. She felt each nut should be better than the last. If not, then what was the point of fucking?

 
; After the fifteen-minute ride, she called A.J. as she was pulling up to MGM’s valet.

  “What’s up, baby?” A.J. answered.

  “I’m pulling up. What’s the room number again?” Dior replied.

  “1210,” A.J. replied.

  As Dior stepped out of the car and headed toward her trunk, the sound of bass caused her to look back. She noticed a black 760. The car was slick, but that wasn’t what she liked the most. The driver stepped his Louis Vuitton’s on the pavement and was damn near gorgeous. His dark chocolate skin looked somebody whipped it by hand. He wore a full beard and not too big but perfectly pink plump lips. Dior noticed all of this from the corner of her eye as she pretended to search for her bag, which was clearly visible in her empty trunk. She grabbed the bag, closed the trunk, and began to turn around, only to notice that the guy was standing over her shoulder.

  “What’s up, pretty lady? I’m Jamal.” The Southern accent allowed Dior to know that he was not from Detroit.

  Dior stepped back, looking him up and down. “Look, I’ma be honest. Your little sneakers are cute, but I don’t fuck with the help,” Dior stated, strutting off inside the hotel. She picked up her phone and dialed A.J. Glancing back, she saw that the young boy was smirking at her. What Dior didn’t know was that he embraced challenges. He never wanted a woman who was easy to get.

  Dior proceeded to the elevator and pressed twelve, taking her to the floor she need to be on. The room was right by the elevator, so she made a quick left and knocked. The door swung open, causing A.J. to appear with his deep-dimple smile in a wife beater and sagging True Religion jeans.

  A.J.’s eyes looked Dior over from top to bottom as she stood in the doorway. Her swag is mean, A.J. thought, pulling Dior in for a hug.

  “What’s up, baby?” A.J. greeted Dior.

  “Hey, daddy,” Dior returned affectionately.

  They were so caught up in their embrace they never heard the elevator doors open.

  “Ahem.” They heard someone clearing his throat.

  Dior turned around first. Damn, is this crazy-ass nigga following me? Since A.J.’s face was in her neck, he didn’t see that it was a guy walking their way. He is so fucking fine. Dior’s mind was going crazy within a five-second period. A.J. finally looked up, but what he did when he looked up was what blew Dior’s mind.

  “What up, boy?” A.J. said as he and Mal shook hands.

  “What’s up, A.J.?” Mal returned the greeting. He was staring at Dior from the corner of his eye. Dior used that opportunity to walk in the room. As most men did, they followed her as her big ass swayed from left to right.

  “Damn, my bad. Mal, this is Dior.” As A.J. made introductions, Dior’s thoughts were everywhere. I hope this nigga don’t say he tried to get on. Dior didn’t know why but she didn’t want A.J. to know her business.

  “What up, baby? How you?” Mal said with a smooth Southern drawl that was beginning to turn Dior on.

  “Hey, I’m good!” Dior replied smugly as she began making her way to the bathroom. She felt their eyes all over her when she began to walk. The room was really spacious. She noticed that A.J. sat on one side of the room and Mal was on the other. Dior had been in the hotel plenty of times but never in this particular suite. She felt eyes on her. As she was crossing the bathroom threshold, she looked back, and sure enough, Mal was all in. She gave him a wink while he gave a smirk.

  “Damn, she bad as hell!” Mal was still in awe about the beauty who had just stepped in the bathroom.

  “I know she bad as fuck. Been fucking with her for a minute now. Ain’t never met a bitch like her! She about her money, and I respect that if I don’t respect nothing else. She a freak, too, man.”

  “She about her paper huh?” Mal was amazed that she was the one they were about to get down with. He expected somebody of a lower caliber, not someone as bad as Dior. Her aura had him in awe.

  “Hell yeah, the bitch is fly, and she always solo,” A.J. replied.

  “Damn, so she just gets down like that?” Mal asked. He just didn’t quite understand it. She ain’t no bum bitch. I know she riding good, he thought as he glanced down at bright red bottoms that she kicked off before going to the restroom.

  Of course, Dior was listening as she freshened up. She was not offended. Now, if there were no money on the floor, this type of situation wouldn’t be up for discussion.

  “Oh, shit, nigga, fuck all that when you get there. Make sure the shit is quick, man. Don’t fuck with none of them bitches. Just get in and get out. No fuckups! She gon’ meet you here in a minute,” Mal told A.J. as he handed him a bag he was carrying when he walked in.

  “Man, I got you,” A.J. replied kind of quietly because he really didn’t want Dior to know that he wasn’t the one calling the shots. She and everybody else thought he was running shit, but he was just a mule. Mal and Eron paid him well while he played the back seat, or at least that’s what people thought. A.J. was more of the flashy type like Rico from Paid in Full, while Mal and Eron were more like Ace mixed with a bit of Mitch.

  Straight up? Stunting-ass nigga! Dior was fuming. She hated niggas who played roles. Fuck it. He always break bread with me! Dior’s thoughts continued to run rampant.

  Dior decided to bless them with her presence. She came out of the bathroom in a brown Victoria’s Secret panty and bra set. Dior stood there for a few seconds and let them take everything in. She never gave any eye contact to either guy.

  She looked at A.J., and he looked to be in a trance. His eyes had a glazed-over look. She looked at Mal and noticed that his face was straight, but his black True Religion jeans were doing very little to restrict his dick.

  A.J. was a pussy eater, so by the time Dior looked back at him, he was pulling her to the bed. He took her panties off in one rip, diving head first in the pussy.

  “Shit!” That was all Dior could manage to get out of her mouth. A.J. licked her from top to bottom slowly with so much expertise. He pulled her pussy lips back, licking each layer.

  “Umm. Yeah!” Dior was in a state of euphoria. She didn’t even notice that her eyes were closed until she opened them and Mal was looking her straight in her eyes. She looked down and saw his dick jumping, causing her to lick her lips. He took the hint, taking his jeans and drawers off in one stroke. His dick was much larger than Dior thought. Her mouth got so wet. Dior looked down. A.J. was making his way to her clit. The anticipation was driving her mad, causing her to squirm.

  “Ummm!” Dior let out an exaggerated moan. She watched A.J.’s lips as he sucked on her clit, feeling his tongue going back and forth over it. “Put it in your mouth and twirl it around until you make it pop! Shit, I’m going to cum!” Dior moaned as her orgasm took over her body. She shuddered under A.J.’s grasped as he moved back and she squirted all over his face. She came so hard and long.

  That’s when Mal had enough. He began walking over just as A.J. stood up and wiped his face. Mal looked at the dresser and noticed condoms. Where they came from, he didn’t know, but he grabbed one and put it on quickly. As A.J. was standing there, Mal just bumped him out of the way, positioning his dick to her pussy. He grabbed her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed and dipping, preparing for entrance. He pushed and was surprised that it didn’t just simply go in. While he was working on going in, A.J. had his dick in her face. Dior opened her mouth to take him in. Mal pushed his way in and damn near lost all control.

  “Ummmm!”

  “Damn!”

  “Oh shit!”

  Everybody moaned in unison for different reasons. A.J. moaned because Dior’s mouth was so warm and wet on his dick. Mal moaned because her pussy felt so warm wrapped tightly around his dick. Dior moaned because she was in heaven. She had a big dick in her pussy and a big dick in her mouth.

  Mal was standing on the side of the bed, going in and out of her pussy. His strokes were deep first and then long. A.J was on the bed face fucking Dior, but Dior was up for the challenge. She sat up on her elbows for better
leverage. She wrapped her hand around his dick and began to stroke it while sucking the head.

  “Damn, girl, suck that shit!” A.J. just looked down at her, making his dick disappear in her mouth with no gag. She pulled her head back, looked at him, and spit on his dick, leaving a trail of spit from her lip to his dick. Then she went back to work, going hard. She was working A.J. while Mal was fucking the shit out of her.

  Mal was going in hard and slow. His technique was A-1. “Grrrrrr!” Mal let out a grunt. Her pussy is dangerous! he couldn’t stop thinking. She had a hell of a shot on her. She was so tight, he couldn’t believe that shit. He just looked at his dick going in and out of her pussy, coated with so much of her juices on it, and it added to his satisfaction.

  “Oh shit, shit. I’m about to cum, girl. Open up!” A.J. yelled.

  Mal looked up just as A.J. began shooting cum straight into Dior’s open mouth, and she took every drop, looking Mal straight in his eye as she swallowed.

  Mal had stopped stroking as A.J. started to get dressed, going in his pocket and placing a bundle of money next to Dior’s purse. A.J. looked up only to catch Dior’s eyes on what he was doing. He just smirked. That was one thing he liked about her. No matter how much she was into what she was doing, money was never a forgotten aspect. He grabbed the bag and walked out the door. He had to go meet Jessica downstairs so they could take this trip to see Mal’s connect.

  Mal turned Dior over and pushed her shoulders down. He had to sit back and observe for a few seconds, because that was a sight worth observing. Out of nowhere, he just rammed his dick in her pussy from the back.

  “Ummmmm!” Dior just moaned.

  He was thrusting. In and out his dick went. He spread her cheeks apart, and there was still ass in the way. He loved it. Her ass jiggled with every movement.

  Dior had enough of letting him take the lead, so she got off her forearms, laying her hands flat on the bed. She began to throw that shit back hard as he held her hips.

  “Um um ummmmm!” Dior couldn’t help but moan. She was in her favorite position. She waited until he was deep in, and when her ass was on his stomach, she made it jump ridiculously.