I'll Be Good to You Read online

  I’LL BE GOOD TO YOU

  A COMPLETE NOVEL

  A Novel By,

  CHRISTINE GRAY

  ©2019 Published by After Hours Publications, Inc. www.afterhourspublications.com

  All rights reserved.

  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage without express permission by the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contains explicit language & adult themes suitable for ages 17+

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  CHAPTER ONE

  JOHNNY

  Same shit. Different day. Nothing changes in the game. People try to steal your shine by talking shit or rape you by sneaking around to reduce your hard work into nothing by catching a glimpse of your work to make it their own. Then there are the females that want to get into your pockets by birthing a whole baby on your ass. After being in this industry, you get into the groove of things quickly, or you're eaten by the wolves to make room for the next motherfucker that's been waiting for you to fall.

  I know I might sound sour, but trust me, I ain't. If not for making beats back in the day for my friends, my ass would be toes up, pushing daisies. Shit, the music lab still wasn't enough to keep me out of the man's system. Three years in for ganging and slanging was all it took for both my wannabe black mama and me to see the light. I know this is completely off subject, but why the fuck white chicks that wannabe black all have the same ass look?

  See, like the hoes that are strolling naked around in my crib. I glide over the threshold of my house to find that my boy, Rafael has already got the party started. It didn't matter that I could do without all this shit for just one damn night. I swear, I think his punk ass got an issue. Kim K butts, pouty lips, and jet black hair in braids are all I peep. Tan bodies, big tits, and plastic-looking females all stop to welcome me into my own home. Bass being pumped through the speakers, echoes through the house.

  I fight to keep a smile on my face when all I want to do is roll my eyes and tell them to get the fuck out. Everyone in the house knows these women could give two shits about the other men. It's my dick; they all want it to be beating down their walls. The thing is, I can take it or leave it. Loose pussy attached to empty-headed women that only want to floss and spend my money is old as fuck. Or maybe, I'm just hungry for one piece of ass in particular.

  "Ladies," I chuckle while walking by the group forming around me.

  "Nice selection, huh?"

  I glance to my left to find Rafael entering the foyer with another woman at his side. You would think after all these years he would have smooth out that crip walk of his, fuckin' fool. Always stunnin', his neck is iced out with gold and diamond necklaces. His shirt is open to show off his chest and tattoos that he says he got while in the gangs, which is bullshit. Nobody dares to call him for the weak shit he is out of fear of pissing me off. At times, I wonder why the hell I never cut his loud mouth self off. I guess I'm just a sucker for the past. I mean, where the fuck is his lazy, slow boat ass is gonna go, if not on my coattails. Not that I haven't encouraged him…even offered up seed money to help him spread his wings. The fucker just wanna be a turd that's stuck on the hair in my ass crack.

  He grins, flashing his gem-encrusted silver grill.

  "Oh, look bitches and hoes," grumbles Chana, my sister.

  Don't let the fact that she seems stuck on age eighteen fool you. She's a full-grown woman that boast one helluva mean left hook. Her mind is like a steel trap. She never misses a beat, and business is her life. That playground nursery rhyme about making a dollar out of 15 cents, I swear was about her ass. After I was lured back to the States to make beats for a few up and coming friends, she's been right at my side… keeping me right and steady. She isn't my only family. She's just the only one that matters.

  "Johnny's been in the studio all day, working," she stresses. "He needs to rest."

  Now, that's one thing I can't abide, when a female thinks that she's got the right to disrespect my sister. Chana is my do or die, my blood, and the one that will always be on my speed dial, while the one rolling her eyes is nothing but a rolly and not a stop.

  "You lost a contact or something?" I ask frowning. "Yeah, you better fix your fuckin' face," I snap.

  "Calm down, take a breath," says Rafael as he dislodges himself from his arm candy. "She didn't mean nothing, right?" he presses glancing at the scared girl. "See, all good. Why don't you go get cleaned up and take a hit of this a few times," he offers as he shoves a fat joint in my hand.

  I can't even enjoy the craftsmanship put into rolling it because I'm still stabbing the female with my mean gaze, which brings me back to my other rant about these chicks. They can never be as stacked and beautiful as a natural black woman, so embrace what you have and make peace with it. Instead of looking like a clown and a fool trying to twerk what your mama never gave you, come at me with what you have and let's have some fun. Just because I'm called the 'white Luther Vandross', which I don't think I am that good by the way, and hang out with African Americans, Jamaicans, and Puerto Ricans doesn't mean I can't appreciate all women. Obviously, Rafael and the world didn't get that memo.

  "Nah," I sigh as I pass the joint back to him. "Chana is right. I am tired. I got too much on my mind."

  "Which is why I went through all this trouble," promises Raf.

  "Have fun, man," I smirk while squeezing his shoulder. I hope the bone-crushing pressure I'm applying and the straight stare I'm giving him is all it takes to let him know, I mean what I say.

  "Well, okay," he chuckles weakly.

  The females don't even hide their disappointment that it's his dick they'll be entertaining instead of mine, tonight.

  "I'm going to need to see ID," announces Chana.

  "Who do you-"

  "Get your shit and bounce, bitch," I spit. "As a matter of a fact, all ya'll get the fuck out," I snarl.

  “B,b,but, but-“

  "All you got to do is do as she says," growls Raf. "Everything is on the up and up. See, they're getting their wallets," he rattles.

  He comes close to me, "Come on, man, help a brother out," he begs.

  I want to list all the things I've done to help his broke down ass out, but I bite my tongue.

  "And your cell phones, too," adds Chana.

  She places a locked box on the side table for the girls to drop their mobiles in. What goes on in the house stays in the house. I shake Raf loose and head for the stairs. I got to get a grip, though. I mean, I am acting like a douche bag. I claim it's all work and shit, but it's not. It's that goddamn woman. I curse the day my rubbernecking ass peeked her Instagram account. Since that day, I've been like a crack head, stalking her ass and trying to get the hookup. Lord knows I don't want to play the celebrity card to get a date, but for some reason, I know I can't count on that getting me a win.

  You know how they say that some men just know which females to try to run game on and which they need not even to try? Well, from what I can see, she isn't about the foolery. Of course, people play all kinda games on social media. They'll catfish your ass into thinking they have millions in the bank and a body of your dreams. Not this woman, though. It's the reason why I can't get her out of my mind because I know all the glitter, she's throwing my way is all gold.

  For weeks, I've created fak
e accounts in hopes of getting her to give me the time of day. Nothing. Her slick mouth cut me down each fuckin' time. Black, mixed, white, Iranian, I've tried hooking her only to fail. Finally, with my wounded pride in hand, I fessed up to my friend who got me on the road in the first place. It was his cell I was glancing over at when I saw the chocolate goddess with the long legs, Thicke thighs, full breast, and a juicy bubble butt. Her confidence is amazing, too. Unlike the women that circulate in my orbit, she handles her own. While many men in my industry want their ladies to be controlled by dollars. Me, I don't give a fuck.

  Hitting the landing, I turn left to head for my rooms. I'm reminded of how blessed I am. From a roach-infested hell hole in the Bronx to a 12,000 square foot mansion is mind-boggling. I live in a neighborhood that's so quiet that I have to make noise to keep myself from getting jumpy. For once, I don't have to watch my back. I can open the windows and stand in front of them to watch the life outside without the fear of witnessing a shooting or being shot. The concept is weird as hell, but I'm thankful I made it out.

  My cell vibrates in my back, jeans pocket. I pop a damn finger getting it out to read the caller ID.

  "Taking your time, huh?" I mumble.

  "Who me?"

  "Man, save the act. What you got for me?"

  "No small talk?"

  "Fool, don't make me come for you," I warn.

  "But if you hurt me, how am I going to tell you how I just helped you out?"

  I slow my steps to stand in the outer room of my bedroom. I swallow hard. I won't lie. I'm excited as fuck. I got butterflies and all that shit.

  "What you mean?"

  "Well, I called a…friend, and I was able to-"

  "Wait! Wait," I demand while making it to the sofa. I'm acting like a crushing bitch, but I don't want to miss a word. For the record, your man will never admit to getting excited over your call or text when you hit him back. Trust me. We aren't that much different from ya'll. We just hide it behind being hard. "Okay, I'm listening."

  "I went through some shit, and I'm going to catch so much shit tonight when I get home."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'll pay you back. Hold up. You owe me, motherfucker. All the times I covered for you," I remind him in a rush.

  "No games, okay… Are you sure you want to do this? It ain't like you don't have pussy on tap. Why you wanna fuck with this one?" he asks, seriously.

  For a fact, I shouldn't be jealous of Yosef, but hearing him trying to warn me off of this chick on the low got to me.

  "Why? You have a soft spot for her? Is that why you were on her page in the first place?"

  Shit, I tried but failed to keep the stank out of my tone.

  "You said it right, soft because that's all I'll be," he reassures me. "Listen, Tia is a friend of a very, very special friend. I don't want to fuck that up. Get me," he explains, slowly.

  "Sure, a friend of someone you wanna smash or have smashed. Got it. Now, spill," I grunt.

  He sighs. "All I got is she's for sure single, three weeks and counting. She got a teenage daughter. She does play around, but she don't bring men around. Really sassy. I know that from first-hand knowledge. Um, that's all I got."

  "Fuck man, I got all that from her IG account," I fume. I see my hopes being dashed.

  "Oh, so you been able to get her to converse?"

  "No, if I did-"

  "Then shut the hell up and let me finish," he snaps.

  I grind my teeth. I swear if he wasn't my boy, I'd be all over his head.

  "I got you in the door."

  I perk up. I mean, I'm wearing a smile that damn near is passing ear to ear. I lick my lips. Straightening up, I lean over to place my elbow on my knee.

  "Really?"

  Jesus, the excitement in my voice has erased some of its natural bass.

  "I was able to get through to her to tell her that I have a rich friend that needs a designer. I told her you'd be popping in her IG to feel her out. You know, see if she makes the cut. She's excited about it."

  "Okay, okay, okay," I repeat like an idiot as I try to get my cover story straight. "I'll make sure to keep it all business-like. I won't come on too strong so not to scare her off. Yeah, I know what to do."

  I don't know if I'm attempting to convince myself or him. Either way, I'm in the door. Now, I can work my magic to get Tia to… What? No doubt, I want to get a taste of what she is hiding between her thighs. Beyond that, hell if I know. Then again, sexing might be all that it's chalked up to be anyway.

  "Thanks, man."

  "Welcome. Don't fuck it up and make sure to give her some business. I mean of the paying kind," he adds, knowing exactly where my mind is.

  "I will," I chuckle.

  When the call ends, nothing can't bug me at the moment. Head down, I quickly make yet another bogus Instagram account as I walk into the bathroom. Checking the time, I debate if I should reach out to her tonight or wait.

  10:25, I read.

  Yosef's Canadian aunt that took me in, hammered into my head that it was rude to call a female after ten. My thumb hovers over the search magnifying glass to locate her account. Teaching wins out. I don't want to come off as being rude. I'll hit her up early in the morning. Now that I'm this close, I can wait. Gripping my hard dick, I know he feels completely the opposite. For a second, I consider going downstairs to fuck around. Shit, why the hell not? It's not like me and Tia are an item. I am footloose and fancy-free. I'm in need of some good head and some mediocre cunt to hold me over.

  I turn on the water, test it, then get in the shower. Going directly under the stream, I relax. I can't help but smile. See, I always get my way. If a hard start in life taught me only one thing, it's persistence in all things. Career, business, family, life, and relationships …it's the same principle. You may have to step back, conjure up another plan of attack just as long as you keep your ass on the battlefield, you'll win. What does the good book say, "The race isn't given to the fast or strong, but to the one that endures to the end." The thought that I'm not going to fuck Tia never enters my mind. In fact, all I've been envisioning is her fat lips, both sets ingesting my dick.

  "A designer," I whisper to myself while washing up.

  Already, a plan is formulating to lay the foundation of how I'm going to get Tia in my trap. If she's as empowered as I think she is, then I know she's career focused. Yes, it's all coming together. I can't wait to get out of the shower. I scrub the plush towel over my hair and face before wrapping it around my waist. I exit the bathroom the same way I entered, with cell in hand.

  The giggling in my room causes my head to snap up. I'm lost for a few seconds as I wonder what the hell is going on. That's when my eyes land on the pair of women laying in my bed.

  Raf, I sigh, mentally.

  Funny how you can work yourself up mentally to the point that nothing else seems to satisfy until you get the one thing you're obsessing over. The realization that Tia had become a strong source of my desire hits me like a punch in the gut. I watch the two women riving on the bed with little emotion. Unfortunately, the one-eyed, spitting monster struggling to get a peek from under the towel isn't as committed to the cause as I am. He doesn't even care that one of the women is that disrespectful bitch with the crack whore mouth.

  "Move to the rug…by the fireplace," I smirk.

  My eyes say, "I can't wait," while my mind is saying, "Yuck."

  So, why don't I kick their asses out? Why did I give these two false hope by moving them to the floor? Well, cause I'm a jackass. Plus, I didn't want them grinding, leaking all over my Egyptian Cotton sheets to leave the fabric soaked and smelling of ass mixed with ran through pussy.

  "I warned everyone downstairs that I wasn't in the mood," I remind the ladies.

  See, I'm not all jackass. I already know the answer that I'm going to get.

  "You'll change your mind once you see what you're missing," moans the chick with the sleeve tattoo.

  Maybe if I hadn't been doing the backstroke in pussy since
I was fourteen, what she said might be true, but there was no tempting me. Over the years, a man should have learned a bit of restraint when it comes to sex. It doesn't matter that I'm hard as fuck. I ain't going for a dip.

  "Show me," I smile as I slide onto my bed.

  A few minutes in, I narrow my eyes. Not because I want to join the fray. Nah, I'm trying to focus my gaze on getting the best view of this chick's eating technique. Ol' crack mouth is teaching me a few tricks. So much, I lean up to make sure I don't miss a stroke of her tongue. Her figure-eight movements have the tattooed woman thrusting her hips in the hope of getting the licker to ease up on her clit to dive between the pink folds that I can see contracting with need.

  All is good. My cock is throbbing. I can feel the first droplets of pre-cum squeezing its way through my mushroom-shaped tip. I lick my lips, wondering what her mouth could do for my hard-on. Gripping my balls, I bite back a groan. Then it happened. Like a bucket of cold water, Fate steps in to keep me true to my quest of saving myself for Tia. One…two slender fingers with one-inch nails attached penetrate the woman's body. I physically recoil and my dick drops his head, to tap out. My eyes roam the face of the chick that's getting her flesh poked. I can make out her surprise and a slight change in her excitement. Well, no shit. I mean, I never like watching that bullshit even in porn. How can having pointy nails rammed up your cunt feel good?

  Shows over, I think while patting my retreating dick. But the main event is coming.

  My promise makes my cock jerk one last time before going completely soft. I smirk at the thought. Going back to my initial task at hand, I scoop up my cell. The time of night isn't a factor when it comes to this. Not when these people have been after me for a while to be apart of what they are doing. Even though their cause is a good one, I wasn't motivated till now to sign up. Hey, I'm a selfish son of a bitch, but whatever.

  Me: Ruban, if you still need another name on the ticket I guess I am in.