Array 50 Cent: Baby Brother

Dear Readers,

I still remember the first time I read Donald Goines. The godfather of street lit, he was the first to write books about characters I could identify with. To some, the stories may have been aggressive, overly stylized, and even dangerous. But there was an honesty there—a realness. I made a vow that if I wrote a book or got into the publishing game, I would try the same one-two punch—that of a Daddy Cool or Black Gangster.

Last year my memoirs, From Pieces to Weight, marked the beginning. Now, I’m rounding up some of the top writers, same way I rounded up some of the top rappers in the game, to form G-Unitand take this series to the top of the literary world. The stories in the G-Unitseries are the kinds of dramas me and my crew have been dealing with our whole lives: death, deceit, double-crosses, ultimate loyalty, and total betrayal. It’s about our life on the streets, and no one knows it better than us. Not to mention, when it comes to delivering authentic gritty urban stories of the high and low life, our audience expects the best.

That’s what we’re going to deliver, starting with Nikki Turner,bestselling author of Hustler’s Wife and The Glamorous Life ; Noire,bestselling author of G-Spot and Thug-A-Licious ; and finally K. Elliott,author of Street Fame .

You know I don’t do anything halfway, and we’re going to take this street lit thing to a whole other level. Are you ready?

Father, thank you. Missy, Nisaa, Man, Jay, Tyrone, Angie, Aretha, and my girl Melissa Shaw from the Bronx, thanks for your loyalty and your love. 50 Cent, thanks for this opportunity and for your confidence in my skills. G-Unit Books is gonna kill ’em left and right! To Reem Raw and N.J.S. Entertainment, your gully beats and hot lyrics keep the ink flowing over my paper and the stories flowing from my soul. To my readers and fans, thanks for all the love and the calls and letters of support and concern. You shower it on me every day, and I’m giving it right back to you with each book I write. Check me out at www.myspace.com/asknoireand get ready to ride with me to the next level!

Prisoner number 837R2006

Height, six feet, one inch

Face front.

(flash)

Turn to your left.

(flash)

Now to your right.

(flash)

“Good morning, New York! It’s time to get the hell outta bed! Right about now you’re waking up with my girl Jonesy! Sure we hired her because she’s pretty… but then after talking to her I realized she also has a great rap! Wake up on Hot 97! Let’s get ta grinding on this hot, sunny morning in the Big Apple!”

The early morning sun baked the run-down five-story tenement from the direction of Queens. On the second floor, thin red curtains swayed in the light breeze, and the B20 to Spring Creek groaned toward Linden Boulevard, traces of its exhaust fumes wafting through the open window.

Inside the bedroom, Baby Brother plunged into his wet yummy, bumping bone and scraping walls. “Yeahhhh,” he groaned, getting his mash on. He took a deep breath, then grunted and arched his back, pounding his pipe.

Beneath him, Sari moaned and panted. Her dark hair curled around her face and fanned over the pillow. Her juices smelled like Fruity Pebbles and it was just about breakfast time.

“Right there, mami?” Veins bulging, Baby Brother demanded, flinging sweat. “Is that where you like it, baby? Right there?”

She tossed her head no, but still squealed in pleasure as he grabbed her toned thighs, spreading them apart in a wide V. His fingers were hot on her caramel-colored skin. She pulled him deeper into her, then whispered something nasty in Spanish as the headboard slammed against the wall and Miss Jonesy talked shit in the background.

“Cool,” he said, withdrawing until only the head was left inside. It pulsed and throbbed in the rim of her tight opening as he extended his arms and balanced himself on the palms of his hands. “If the dick ain’t good to ya then I might as well take it out.”

She squeezed her legs tight. “No!”

He laughed. “Then let me hear you say this dick is good!”

“Shh!” She stopped rolling her ass and frowned. “Why you gotta say ‘dick’ so loud like that?! Tony might hear you!”

Baby Brother laughed again. “Fuck Tony.”

Sari giggled and slapped his arm. Working her hips into a hard grind, she pulled him deeply into her soft gushy, then wrapped her long legs around his back as her teeth found his nipple. She swirled her wet tongue around his bud and sucked gently, her lips pressed firmly against the hard muscle of his chest.

Baby Brother clenched his jaw and shuddered. “Aaah, baby. Damn. Shit. Slow down. Goddamn . Slow down, mami! Damn you throwing some good-ass stuff around, girl.”

It was sticky and hot inside her box and he didn’t wanna move. He forced himself to pull out of her, then slid down her body, sighing. He paused to lick her stiff, light brown nipple, then continued south, lapping sweat from the crevice of her belly button before pressing his face deeply into her wet spot.

“Yummy…” He smacked between licks. Her juice was like honey. Sweet and thick, and he wished he could put his whole head up inside her.

Sari gasped. Her muscles went rigid as he made waves of pleasure flow from her center. She held tight to his head and opened her mouth. A Spanish pleasure tirade exploded from her lips and filled the whole room. “Aaah, baby! Yeah, just like that. Right there, just like that.” Then moments later, “Oooweee, too deep! No, harder. Yeah. Just like that! ” And then finally, “Oooh. Damn. Yeah. Damn! Why you gotta leave me, huh, Zabu? Why you gotta go? I love you, Z. You know that, don’t you?”

Baby Brother moaned, spurting the last of himself into her warmth. He rolled onto his side and pulled her into his dark arms. He gazed into her flashing eyes, and despite the way their bodies had just battled, he saw the deep pain that was lurking there.

He kissed her damp curls and squeezed her closer. “I gotta go, girl. That’s what’s real. This ghetto’s gonna kill me if I don’t. But I’m coming back for you, Sari. That’s truth, baby. That’s truth.”

Baby Brother got up. He used a bunch of Wet Wipes to clean himself, then kissed Sari again and got dressed. It was time to go. Priest was waiting for him back at the crib and they had moves to make.

“I’ma get up with you later, cool? I’ll be waiting downstairs around six. Have your fine ass ready too, ’cause the West Indian Day Parade draws niggahs from all over Brooklyn and there won’t be noplace to park near Eastern Parkway.”

He grinned at Sari, then walked over to the half-open window and raised it all the way up. He glanced down at the sparkling whip parked below, in the exact same condition he had left it in the night before. While Sari’s eyes were on him he pretended like he was climbing out the window and onto the raggedy fire escape, but then turned around real fast and walked over to the door instead. He heard her shocked intake of breath as he reached for the knob.