Array 50 Cent - Baby Brother

“Then we gotta get him a lawyer,” he said, coming to a quick decision. Farad and Finesse had plenty of money. Who cared where they’d gotten it from if it meant Baby Brother might be freed? The Lord forgives! “First thing in the morning, we gotta get Baby Brother a lawyer.”

Lissa was a skank freak from Harlem, but she gave some damn good brain. Her people owned a time-share up in the Poconos, and even though Raheem knew she was a hoe, the prospect of a long weekend getting his nuts sucked dry was enough to make him agree to drive her up there for Labor Day.

Raheem worked corrections at Rikers Island, and a couple of the C.O.s were from Harlem and had already gotten with Lissa. When they found out he was going to the Poconos for the weekend with a jump-off they tried to fuck with his head, but he just laughed it off. Most of them cats were married. If it wasn’t for their wives, any one of them woulda loved to get topped off all weekend long by a wet-neck like Lissa.

It was their last morning and Raheem wanted to make it count. They had been chilling and doing the wild thang up in the mountains for three days and Raheem’s tank was just about empty. He’d turned his cell phone off the moment they arrived. Fuck the Department of Corrections this weekend. If anybody called in sick or failed to show up for their shift, he sure hated it for them. They’d have to find some other sucker to come in on a dime because he wasn’t leaving these woods until the weekend was over and his balls were turned inside out.

Lissa had treated him to breakfast this morning at a restaurant nearby, and then they’d come back to the room to pack. He’d turned his cell phone back on, placed their bags at the door, then jumped in the shower with Lissa and rubbed soap all over her back. They had planned to leave at noon because of traffic, and that gave Raheem almost two good hours to get his dick wet one last time.

They had just sipped some Krug and he was sitting in a chair rubbing his nuts. Lissa was standing on the bed doing a fat girl’s version of a pole dance. She had big titties, but they were floppy and manly looking, just like her shoulders. Her ass was pancake flat with a tattoo on it that said “Jiggly.” The skin around her stomach sagged and was covered in crazy stretch marks. But that throat. Goddamn! What a throat! Who needed a round ass and firm tits when they could “Hoover” a niggah’s joint the way she did? Just thinking about her lips had Raheem’s dick on brick.

Lissa wrapped her fat thigh around one of the bedposts and wiggled her ass suggestively. She had on a baby blue T-shirt with a matching thong, and the fat rolls around her middle tore that thong string up, practically making it disappear.

But that was cool with Raheem. He’d known her body was fucked up when he brought her up here. Let her dance. Just as long as she ended her performance gargling his dick with his balls puffing out both of her cheeks, he was cool.

Lissa slid off the bed and pranced over to where he was sitting. For a freak who pecked wood the way she did, it surprised Raheem that she’d given up on her demand that he go south on her. On the truth tip, he was a true sixty-niner to the bone, but he’d made it clear to Lissa from the gate that he wasn’t going out like that with her. She could bounce on his dick, cream all over his fingers…. Shit. He’d do just about anything she wanted, but putting his mouth on a nasty freak like Lissa was outta the damn question.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he growled as she fell to her knees in front of him. “Assume the position, baby. You know how Poppa like his shit done.”

He urged her head toward his stiffening dick, but Lissa resisted.

“You a selfish muthafuckah, Raheem! What about how I wanna get done? Shit, my fuckin’ knees is sore. I’m starting to think the only reason you brought me up here is to get your dick sucked all day long!”

Raheem laughed. “Ya think? Come on, baby. We gotta get outta here in a few hours. Let’s finish this party up right, please?”

“No.” She crossed her arms and stared at him. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Just gimme a little brain first, sugar. Suck it for a minute, and then we can fuck.”

“Hell no. You been tricking me like that all weekend. It’s been the same old shit over and over again. I buy the liquor and you get tips. Next thing you know, your ass is horny and you want some head. You tell me to suck it just for a few minutes and end up busting just like that. Then that alcohol hits you and I gotta wait like five hours before your shit gets right again.” She rolled her eyes and smirked. “You a piper and everything, Raheem, but I ain’t got five hours to wait this morning, baby. I wanna get my sticky off right now, niggah. Not when your shit is half-limp and you can’t do nothing with it.”

Raheem thought that shit sounded real foul. So what if it was true. The only reason he had agreed to waste a whole weekend on her was for the bomb head she put down. The thought that he wouldn’t get to feel them tight lips vibrating on his tip no more scared him. Two minutes later he had her legs in the air, cracking his back in her.

He’d knock her nasty but he wasn’t gonna cum. He was saving his nut for that throat of hers. Lissa moaned and screamed as he dug her belly out. He was a piper all right. Lissa loved it too. She scratched his arms and back and came over and over, screaming out his name. Raheem kept right on pounding, cupping her ass and giving her her money’s worth.

She was thrashing around hard, meowing like a cat and shuddering with convulsions. He’d given it to her good, and now it was his turn. He couldn’t wait for her to catch her breath so she could put her lip pump on him. He pulled out of her and snatched off his condom, then crawled on his knees until his ass was positioned over her chin. He guided his throbbing head toward her lips, rubbing it all over them so they could get his party started. Lissa sighed and opened her eyes. She smiled and licked her lips. She had just started doing that fantastic thing that no other bitch in the world could do—when the phone rang.

Fifteen minutes later Raheem was heading to the freeway with the rest of the holiday traffic. Every damn body in the world was trying to get back down to the city, and pain ached in him so deeply he had to force himself to take short breaths.

They had his brother. His fuckin’ baby brother. On The Rock. Raheem shook his head, trying to clear the picture he saw formulating in his mind. He worked those tiers out on Rikers Island. He knew how shit went down. The mentality of them criminal niggahs. Fuck! He shoulda never turned off his phone. Malik said they’d been trying to catch him since early Sunday morning, and here it was Monday already. Baby Brother had been on Rikers for over twenty-four fuckin’ hours and he hadn’t known about it. Raheem cursed under his breath. Them niggahs on The Rock was grimy as fuck. He couldn’t even see Baby Brother dwelling next to that slime element.

Raheem was running on pure adrenaline. He had dragged Lissa outta the room and threw their bags in the back of his ride. Gunning his motor, he’d squealed out of the parking lot and zipped down the streets toward the highway.

“You gonna tell me what the big emergency is?” Lissa had stunted, sliding across the seat as he made a sharp turn and ran a red light.

“Bitch,” Raheem said, his voice burning the air like fire. “Shut the fuck ufl Don’t you open your mouth no more until you outta my ride.”

Evil was upon him and Raheem knew it. The last time he’d felt this way was when Antwan had gotten in that trouble up in Greenhaven. Of all the Davis brothers, Raheem’s temper was the most uncontrollable. Baby Brother was the best of the bunch, no doubt. But while Antwan had found God, Kadir was a master gambler, the twins were ruthless drug lords terrorizing niggahs on the streets, and Malik was a cop who loved the whole world, there had always been a storm brewing in Raheem. He hid it well, though. He wasn’t about to jeopardize his standing in the Department of Corrections by strangling every mothafuckah who pissed him off. The streets of Brooklyn might have hardened him, but repercussions and a responsible job had helped mellow him out. Raheem had learned to control his anger, but underneath his professional demeanor he was cold and brutal, especially when it came to standing on point for his brothers.