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My Dirty Hot Angel

Episode 23

Denise turned to face him again. She stood demurely with her arms to her side; her nakedness was turning Crown on. Her pussy was shaved which was a plus and she had no tattoos. Crown loved that shit about her.


Denise walked over to Crown. He moved closer to her, drink still in hand. He looked Denise square in her eyes and asked, “You ever suck dick before?”

She nodded.

“Let me see then, bitch.”

Denise got down on her knees and Crown lifted up his T-shirt, giving her full access to unbuckle his pants and show him how she did business.

Slowly, Denise unbuckled his pants and pulled down his zipper to remove his hardening dick. Crown sipped his drink while Denise gripped his eight inches in her hand.

“I ain’t got all day, bitch. Just suck it.”

Denise took Crown into her mouth, inch by inch. She began sucking him off and Crown moaned. Crown had one hand tangled in her hair and the other still holding his liquor. He looked down at Denise’s head bobbing back and forth and wanted to take a picture of the bitch sucking dick.

“Let me see you deep-throat the dick,” Crown said. He admired her form and grabbed her by the back of her head and forced more dick down her throat.

Denise gagged a little but kept it gangster and continued to suck him off like a pro. Crown moaned again. The fellatio was getting so good that he had to set his glass down and focus on the bitch.

As soon as he was about to cum he told her to get up. Denise stood up, wiping her mouth and knowing she’d sucked Crown off like a pro.

“Yeah, with a mouth like that, you gonna make us plenty of money,” Crown said. “I’m gonna have you work the club tonight and then put you on the track tomorrow night. I’m gonna pair you off wit’ Cherish and let her show you the ropes on how we get this money, a’ight?”

Denise nodded.

“And what’s your name again, bitch?”

“Casper,” Denise replied.

“You’re home now, Casper, so you ain’t got nuthin’ to wor

ry about. Anybody fucks wit’ you, they fuck wit’ me, a’ight? You continue to get this money and you’ll live like a queen. I take care of my ladies and I expect y’all to take care of me. You fuck and suck niggas when I tell you to fuck and suck niggas. You don’t ever give my pussy away for free, you hear me, bitch?”

She nodded.

Crown continued to school her about the game and when he was done he said, “A’ight, you can get dressed now, bitch. We gotta make this money tonight. You’re on probation till I tell you that you ain’t on probation anymore.”

Casper reached for her clothing and quickly got dressed. Crown downed the rest of his drink and delivered a final warning to Casper: “Don’t fuck me over tonight. I’m a nice guy when my money is right.”


Harlem was parked a block down from YB’s drug spot on Brown Street. He observed the activity that night, his .45 on his lap. He was dressed in all black and sat patiently behind tinted windows in his burgundy Yukon.

He watched the fiends move up and down the block for their high. A few of Rufus’s men served their clientele openly like the shit was legal. Besides the drug movement, the block was quiet.

Harlem took a drag from his Newport and kept an eye out for anything unusual. He looked around for Rufus but saw him nowhere around. It didn’t matter whether Rufus was around or not, as his objective was to shut their business down and make the block hot. He was determined to do so.

Harlem glanced at the time and saw that it was fifteen minutes past midnight. It was still early for the fiends, and they were still coming and going from the building. He took one last pull from the smoke, removed a silencer from the glove compartment, and attached it to his gun.

Harlem waited for the right time to strike. When the clutter of fiends and niggas cleared from the building, Harlem stepped out of his truck with the gun in his hand.

He moved coolly down the block in his dark denim jacket and jeans and black Timberlands. He didn’t stand out, and with his boyish features and he didn’t look intimidating to anyone. Looks could be deceiving and Harlem was a ruthless killer who would spill blood from man, woman, or child. He had dead bodies under his infamous name, and his murderous reputation preceded him. The only talent he had was killing.

Harlem continued to move toward the building. He focused on certain niggas out front, knowing that they were Rufus’s soldiers. He gripped the gun behind his back and cautiously moved ahead.

The traffic on the block was sparse and the lighting was dim since only three streetlights were working.

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