Chasing Bliss (20 page)

Bliss held the door open further and let him in. He put his hands on her waist and started kissing
her. He couldn’t help it and didn’t want to. He loved the feel of her lips on his and the taste of her
sweet mouth. He loved the tingle that went up his spine when she danced her sexy little tongue
over his. Bliss made his knees weak.

She broke the kiss and put her arms around him for a tight hug. “I was worried about you,
Chase.”

He hugged her back and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I told you I’d be okay, baby.”

She touched his face. “I didn’t sleep. I waited up for you.”

“I’m glad. I needed to see you.”

She smiled at him. “I could never turn you away.”

He felt a sudden stab at his heart, and he didn’t smile back. “Never say never,” he said, fearing
that maybe—if she knew enough—she could and would shut him out of her life. He didn’t expect
her to tolerate the things he did for Cyrus. As a matter of fact, he felt that if she ever found out
about that shit, she’d kick his ass to the curb in less than ten seconds, rightfully so. J.T. had been
right, for the most part, but he hadn’t thought it all the way through. Chase needed to relocate
too—to start over somewhere far away from Cyrus. He’d just slashed his last throat for Cyrus, and
he was ready to disengage.

Bliss was running her hands over his biceps and looking into his eyes. “What’s that supposed
to mean?”

Chase looked away and shook his head. “Nothin’, baby. The last couple hours were hard, that’s
all.”

“How’s Cyrus?”

“I don’t want to talk about tonight right now. I just want to be with you.”

She smiled sweetly and took his hand. “Okay. Come on then.” She led him down the hall and
around the corner to her room.

Chase wasn’t surprised a bit when he saw it. It was very girly, from the lacy fans on the walls, to
the flowers in bud vases, to the upholstered headboard. Chase’s mind wasn’t on her décor, though,
and he didn’t want his back rubbed either. He grasped the hem of her short nightgown and started
pulling it up.

Bliss didn’t argue. She only raised her arms and let him whisk it off of her.

Chase took his shirt off and went for her lips again, taking great pleasure in the silky feel of her
soft, bare skin against his. His fingers drifted up her body until they found her breasts. He ran his
thumbs over her nipples in slow circles until they felt like pearls and gave no resistance.

Bliss’s breath was getting short. She moaned and arched her back, reaching for the buckle of
his belt. She managed to unbuckle it as Chase traded his thumb for his mouth. Bliss unbuttoned his
jeans and pulled the zipper down. She started pushing his clothes off, in a rush to get at him.

Chase kicked his sneakers off and stepped out of his pants. He turned with her so that her back
was against the wall. Her hand was on him, holding him tight and gliding up and down with a
maddeningly sweet friction. Her thumb swirled over the top, and he sucked in air through his
teeth.

Chase put his hands just under her ass and stepped between her thighs. He swung her up from
the floor in one easy, smooth move. Bliss’s arms went around his neck, and the two of them stared
at each other as he lowered her down, sliding in slow, then pumping at her briskly at that crazy
angle. She shuddered and made a sound that wasn’t quite a scream.

Chase grinned and stepped away from the wall with her. His hands slid up until her ass was
in his palms. “Hold on, Bliss.” He bounced her right into an orgasm that was so strong, she went
through it like she was fighting him, but Chase held on to her. He walked the few steps to the bed
with her and sat down. He lay on his back with Bliss on her knees, riding him like he was her very
own personal pony. She ran her hands over his body luxuriously, then ran them over her own.
Chase found that incredibly sexy and put his hands on her hips, going in a little deeper.

Bliss made that little screamy sound again and put her hands on his abs and started grinding into
him hard. She was squeezing herself around him, tightening down on him until he couldn’t take
it anymore. He flipped her over and drove himself into her, losing control, cummin’
so hard it startled him. He felt
her nails trail down his back and her hips rise to meet his.

The pleasure was exquisite, and he simply couldn’t stop. He wanted to squeeze every last bit
of himself into her. Chase put his hands under her shoulder blades and pulled himself in until his
heart was slamming in his chest and he was weak. He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around
him. Chase held her close, and to his surprise, found himself falling rapidly toward sleep. “I love
you, Bliss…very, very much.”

“I love you, too, Chase.”

The lovers slept in each other’s arms, happy and satisfied.

Chapter 12

C
yrus was currently convalescing at the condo of his sometimes-lover, Valerie Durant, in
Brooklyn Heights. Valerie was a CPA in a large and storied midtown firm, five names long.
She currently had her round, shapely ass turned up at him in the downward dog position, going
through her yoga moves like he wasn’t even there.

She was real nice to look at, medium height, with milk chocolate skin without a blemish on it.
Her hair was shoulder length, black, and glossy, but she swept it up in a ponytail to do her workout.
Her eyes were large and so dark that they almost looked black. She was small on top with a tiny
waist, but her bottom half more than made up for any shortcomings.

Cyrus was admiring it with great interest as she stretched. Cyrus smiled to himself, remembering
when she used to be Chase’s woman, when Chase was only nineteen or twenty. To Cyrus, they
seemed a bit too young to be that involved with each other. He didn’t need Chase getting caught
up with his nose open like that, so he made sure their romance was squashed before he did a bid
for his gun charge. He preyed on Valerie’s naiveté and inexperience at the time, knowing she’d
fall for every young girl’s dream of being with an older man and living ‘hood fabulous by dating
a drug dealer.

He went about crushing their relationship by working it out so Chase would catch the two of
them together. Sure, it had broken Chase’s little young-boy heart, but Cyrus slept well at night,
secure in the fact that he was doing it for Chase’s own good—keeping Chase’s chest from puffing
out too hard. Chase was an emotional guy, and Cyrus knew he was much more malleable when
he was bruised up and crying with his feelings hurt. When he was like that, even though it wasn’t
simple, it was easier to manipulate him into doing shit. It was when he got cold and standoffish
that he was damned near immovable. Chase had always been a problem—
always
.
Oh, well. Enough
about Chase
, he scolded himself
.
That boy had been taking up entirely too much space in his mind
lately, and Cyrus smelled a rebellion on the horizon.

He looked at Valerie’s ass again. “How much longer you plan on stayin’ in that position?”

“Until I’m done. If it’s heating you up, you’re welcome to jerk off in the shower, ‘cause you
ain’t getting’ none of this,” she said coldly as she stood straight up and looked him in the eye.

The goodwill fell out of Cyrus’s face. “A bitch could get a smack for that.”

She raised an elegant eyebrow and patted the sweat off her chest with a towel. “You lay a damn
finger on me, and I got the cops on speed-dial…after I finish stabbing your trifling ass, Cyrus. You
need to be easy up in here. I don’t have to let you stay here, you know.”

He laughed. “Then why do you?”

She smiled at him frostily. “Why do you think?”

He laughed with genuine humor. “For Chase?”

“You know it. He’s always out saving your ass, even if you are too stupid to realize his influence
is what’s keeping you and that monkey Khalid’s heads above water. He called and asked me to let
you stay here, and then he told Corey to put a bug in your ear so your simple-minded ass would
have you asking me, thinking you made the decision your-damn-self. You
are not
the genius you
think you are, Cyrus, and Chase tries hard not to be the monster you’ve made him into.
You’re
the
fucking monster, Cyrus. How could you do that to your own brother?”

Cyrus laughed. “You’re the one who left the angel with the busted wings and twisted halo for
the devil with the pitchfork. We all got our flaws, Princess. Yours is that you’re a whore who broke
a guy’s heart by fucking his brother. You—”

He was cut off by the wad of warm spit that hit him in his right eye. Rage took over before he
had time to realize what he was doing. His hand curled into a fist, and he hit her square in the jaw
as hard as he could.

Valerie went down like her legs were made of rubber, knocked out cold.

“Stupid bitch!” Cyrus yelled and spat on
her
. He pulled out his cell phone and called Corey.
“Corey, I ain’t got my car. Drop whatever useless shit you’re doin’ and come get me out of this
stupid, disrespectful, cunt’s house
right now!
Fuck that!
Now, Corey!
I’ll be downstairs.” He threw
his things into the leather valise he’d brought with him and vacated the premises, but not before he
turned around and kicked Valerie right in her round, lovely ass with all the force he could muster.
Then he slammed out of the apartment. He guessed he’d be hearing from Chase about the whole
ordeal, but he didn’t give a shit.
Fuck his punk ass.

When he got to the lobby, Khalid was walking through the doors. He looked first at Cyrus, then
at his bag. “What’s up, man? Goin’ somewhere?”

“Can’t stay here. I just knocked Valerie’s ass out.”

Khalid frowned. “Was she gettin’ at you ‘bout Chase?”

“I could have lived with that, but that bitch spat on me like she was crazy, and I dropped her ass.
She’s up there laid out on the living room floor.”

“Damn, Cyrus.”

“I can’t take shorts from no ho, Khalid. You know me.” He eyed Khalid warily, ”What brings
you here so early anyway?”

Khalid looked around. “I can’t talk about it in the open like this. Come on…let’s take a ride.”

“I got Corey comin’ to get me.”

Khalid shrugged. “So? Let him go up and find that ho sprawled out and cry to Chase. That’s what he’s gonna
do anyway. You can hit him later and let him know you’re with me.”

They didn’t speak again until they were in Khalid’s car and on the road.

“So…what’s up?” Cyrus asked, settling into his seat.

“What’s up? We started a war, I think. Smoke left his callin’ card, and Wolf ain’t havin’ it. He
wants to have the last word, so to speak.”

Cyrus wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever else Khalid had to say. “Meaning what?”

“
Meaning
, Smoke might not have done us a favor by takin’ out Mooch and Post. From what I
understand, he just sliced through Post’s throat, but Mooch’s ass was barely recognizable. They
say he was cut up pretty bad. You know Mooch was Wolf’s first cousin, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So he ain’t takin’ that shit light. Don’t you watch the news, Cyrus? ‘Bout one o’clock this
mornin’, Wolf got rid of Breeze and Willie—shot ‘em in the back of the head while they was sittin’
in Willie’s car, like somethin’ right outta
Gangland,
execution style. I’m tellin’ you, it’s a fuckin’
war, Cyrus. I think Smoke threw gasoline on the shit we started. What’s up with him anyway?
What’s takin’ him so long? We need him to take the damn head off the snake. If he takes Wolf out,
all the rest a them niggas will fall by the wayside or find their own hustle. You need to light a fire
under your boy, Cyrus…and you need to do that shit
today
!”

Cyrus sank down in his seat and stared out the window. He had a problem on his hands, and
he knew it. Chase was not being cooperative at all, and his behavior was erratic at best. He was
totally wishy-washy and making threats to take his leave. He’d done what he said and got some
retribution for Cyrus being shot. He’d even given his word about hitting Wolf, but since he’d taken
out Mooch and Post, he’d been dragging his feet about Wolf. No…worse: He’d dug his heels in
and wasn’t moving at all. Chase was barely speaking to him, and when he did, he was hugely
disrespectful and angry.
Ungrateful little bastard.

If it wasn’t for Cyrus, Chase and Corey would have been left to fend for themselves after their
mother died. Cyrus had taken care of their snot-nosed asses, and the only thing he’d asked in return
was compliance, but he was only getting that from Corey, and not all the time from Chase’s moody
ass. It all depended on what side of the bed he’d woken up on. It seemed if he wanted Chase to
do anything for him now, he had to twist his arm up behind his back and scrub his face into the
ground. It wasn’t winning Chase any points with Cyrus, because Cyrus had harbored anger for
Chase since the day the doctor had smacked his ass when he cried into the world.

Cyrus was fifteen years older than Chase. His mother didn’t even bother to tell him she was
pregnant, even when he saw her belly getting bigger and bigger, growing like there was a fucking
tumor in it—and as far as he was concerned, that was just what the fuck Chase was. It wasn’t just
the circumstances of his brother’s birth, but also the fact that when his mother squeezed that baby
out into the world, all of Cyrus’s sugar dried up. Everything was suddenly split in half, and he
had to share everything with him. All her extra money went toward that damn baby. Cyrus wasn’t
a punk, and he sucked it up, but he was deeply resentful of that little bastard for a whole lot of
reasons, and he let him know it.

He did little shit to him while he was growing up, like throwing his toys in the garbage, punching
him, bending his fingers back until he screamed, and berating him in front of his friends, calling
him a pussy and worse. When Chase really got on his nerves—or sometimes when he didn’t—he’d
jump on him and beat his ass bloody.

When Corey was born, Cyrus had resented him, too, but not as much as he did Chase and not
for the same reasons. Chase had always stood between Cyrus and Corey. He wouldn’t let Cyrus
run over Corey the way he let him run over him. Chase had gotten a lot of bloody noses on Corey’s
behalf. Cyrus was a bully and he knew it, but Chase never let him have Corey as a punching
bag—at least not without a fight.

He remembered nights when he threatened Corey with serious bodily harm; Chase would go
to sleep with his arms locked around his little brother and their sharpest butcher knife under his
pillow. Something sharp had always been Chase’s way to go, and he’d even sliced Cyrus once,
leaving him with a permanent scar. He’d sliced Cyrus for fucking with Corey.

Cyrus was nineteen when he started dealing. He got tired of always having to go without and
having to share shit with those two assholes. He wanted to have his own shit, some nice shit. He
started selling rocks for an O.G. named Big Ted. Ted had a partner named Maceo, and they owned
shit in Bushwick. There
were
no other dealers back then, so they had it on lock.