I'll Be Down for You: A Bay Area Saga Read online

  I’ll Be Down for You

  A Bay Area Saga

  XURI FOXX

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  © 2016

  Published by Royalty Publishing House

  www.royaltypublishinghouse.com

  All rights reserved.

  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. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  chapter 15

  chapter 16

  chapter 17

  chapter 18

  chapter 19

  chapter 20

  chapter 21

  chapter 22

  chapter 23

  chapter 24

  chapter 25

  chapter 26

  chapter 27

  chapter 28

  chapter 29

  Other books by Xuri Foxx

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank you, God, for this gift that you’ve blessed me with. Thank you for the strength to move toward the finish line at times where I really just want to give up. I’m eternally grateful.

  Thank you to my new publisher, Porscha Sterling, of Royalty Publishing House. I knew I wanted to work with you when you let me know that you were familiar with my work. It may not mean a lot to most, but it meant something to me because I knew then that if you knew my work, then you’d definitely value my worth. Thanks for having faith in my talent. I look forward to adding to my catalog under the Royalty umbrella.

  I want to thank my readers—old and new. Bringing stories to life is my love, but would be nothing if you didn’t invest in me by trusting me with your time. So, please know that I’m very grateful for your support.

  To my mama and my sister: Love y’all past death for never, ever ceasing to believe in my dream. It helps to have the people that are close to you on your journey; especially when they cheer you on when you don’t have the strength to be your own cheerleader.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  In a few places you’ll see where I switch from first to third person. Please know that it’s deliberate. I usually reserve first person for my main characters and then I’ll sometimes switch the point of view to third person narrative for my sub characters. For some reason, it just makes life easier, and a little more interesting—for me Mwah!

  CONTACT XURI

  Website: www.xurifoxx.com

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter: @xurifoxx

  Facebook: @xurifoxx

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  http://eepurl.com/bETeXX

  Love makes us do the same things that Vengeance does—react.

  We love hard and we exact vengeance with the same vigor.

  It’s passion.

  Both love and vengeance evoke emotions deep within that stir the soul.

  It’s emotional.

  Both evoke emotions that will have us behaving in ways we never thought possible.

  It’s the inevitable.

  So just imagine with the two intersect.

  It’s powerful.

  It was the best way for me to sum up this story.

  I hope you enjoy getting to know Jazzmina and Khalil.

  PROLOGUE

  Thursday, June 5, 2014

  Thirty-five-year-old, Derrick “DJ” Jackson, had his Bose stereo system turned up to some trap music. It was so loud that the windows were vibrating. Trap music! He hated that shit. Or rather he hated being trapped with that shit, like when his niece Honey came home from college and had it blasting throughout the manor. To him, it wasn’t real music. He missed the music of old when Pac, Nas, Eastsidaz and niggas like that were at the top of the game, and rapping about real shit. The new shit he hated because it was all watered down and sounded like fuckin’ sing-alongs; there was way too much engineering over the actual lyrics, and no real substance to what the fuck those niggas were spittin’. But in the privacy of his car, where he had the option to turn it up, down . . . or off, it was all good. And on long drives home—from the East Bay to Tracy—he often liked to “turn up” when nobody was around. He’d rap the lyrics to songs that nobody knew that he knew, and head bob while his hand waved against the air.

  DJ drove down the nearly empty, three-lane road, in his brand new Cadillac CTS Sedan. He sat comfortably in his seat, left hand on the steering wheel, with his all black FN Five-Seven lying in his lap. He always kept it nearby because you just never knew what could happen. DJ was no dummy and he knew that with success came enemies; a lot of whom would smile in your face, but not have a second thought about cancelling your entire life if they felt the urge. So he stayed on guard. And although he’d moved far away from his old stomping grounds, there was never a shortage of people wanting to be in the know on all of your business: where you lived, who you lived with, and how the fuck you lived. So, yeah, staying one up was essential.

  When DJ made it through the Altamont Pass, and zipped past Mountain House, he sighed with relief that he would be home soon. He hated driving and especially hated driving to the Bay, but when business called he had to answer—particularly business with his favorite girl. She knew how to make a nigga feel good. Lately, she had been complaining about him keeping her in side chick position, but to him, she was far from that and he was gonna prove it to her soon. He’d already taken major steps to do that when he bought her a house, but he had intentions on doing it even bigger . . . in the very near future. Real soon, baby girl, he thought with a thin smile across his lips.

  “Dark as fuck on this damn road,” he mumbled out loud.

  Derrick was so busy in his thoughts, listening to his music and preparing to take his exit that he hadn’t noticed the two motorcycles that had fallen in line behind him. One was on either side of the back of his car, but trailing far enough to go unnoticed—at least to the unskilled eye. Something ain’t right. But Derrick’s was far from unskilled, and something about their positioning didn’t sit right with him. He placed his palm on top of his weapon, ready for whatever. He knew that he wasn’t being paranoid. He hadn’t sensed anything like it before, and had always made it home without incident. Just as his antenna rose, Derrick noticed that the bikes held back and fell in line with each other contradicting their previous formation. Shit, he sighed, lightened his grip on his gun, before sinking his back into the heated leather of his seats. Had a nigga shook for a quick second and about to light the damn freeway up.

  But loosening his attention was about to prove fatal for Derrick.

  Just as he was about to instruct his mobile to dial home, Derrick noticed that the two sets of lights were once again tailing him a little too closely. His initial reaction was to get pissed because if the muthafuckas had somewhere to be then they could easily shift lanes and get the fuck on and stop riding his damn nuts. But then, intuitio
n kicked in and he began to notice that not only had they not switched lanes, they had become very careful about keeping up with his own speed limit. He didn’t want to be ‘noid, but he’d rather be that than sorry, so he unhooked his seatbelt, picked up his piece from his lap, and held a tight grip on the handle with his right hand, while his left hand was still on the steering wheel. Derrick switched lanes without signaling and prepared to take his exit which was another quarter mile ahead. No sooner than he changed lanes, so did the cycles.

  Yeah, this shit is deliberate. These niggas came to play . . .

  His inner panic button was activated and he mentally prepared for battle. He slowed his vehicle because the last thing he wanted to do was bring the shit anywhere near his house. As he decreased his speed, they did the same . . . but only temporarily. After a few seconds, the bike that was on the right bumper side, picked up speed and headed toward his passenger side. Derrick tried his best to assess the movements of both, but with one in his sight and the other out of his peripheral, it was becoming difficult.

  I’m about to make it do what it do before these niggas do me first.

  With that, Derrick swerved his car to the right so that he could connect with the motorcycle that he knew to be directly on that side of his car. Right about that time, he heard a sharp fizzle sound and turned to see glass shattering the tinted window on the back passenger side of the vehicle. Derrick swerved again trying to clip the motorcycle to his right so that he would have just the one to deal with; but he wasn’t fast enough. When the second shot was fired, it wasn’t long before shit went from zero to one hundred real quick.

  I’ll Be Down for You

  A Bay Area Saga

  1

  Jazzmina

  “You keep my pussy with some werk, baby!” I released satisfied moans into the air as I fucked the shit out of my dude’s face. He was putting in some quality work. That wasn’t anything new; he always ate the fuck out of my hot pocket. If there was nothing else I could say about that man, I couldn’t deny that he had a master of a tongue. It was like that shit knew every crevice of my lips, the crease on the side of my lips, and that soft ass gushy part that just had no purpose but to be licked. “Shit! Right there, baby! Right there! Yeahhh…” That last part had me to where all I could do was gasp. A bitch went from screaming in ecstasy to whimpering like a wounded kitten. Where they do that at? I’ll tell you where, right muthafuckin’ here when the pussy is under submission by a head doctor! “Mmmm, baby, damnnn…come here…pleeease come here,” I begged. I needed him where I was so I could pull him inside of me and taste my scent on his tongue…his lips.

  But my cries went unanswered. I squirmed uncontrollably as he held my thighs captive inside his strong palms. He wanted to make sure I couldn’t go anywhere and he knew that with the tongue lashing he was giving me, I would definitely try to escape into the headboard. When my orgasm immobilized my entire body and my soul left me, I felt like I had just had the ultimate massage. That ‘knock a bitch off her game’, kinda massage. This man gave me full body without even trying, with the skill of his damn mouth! He hadn’t even put his dick in me yet and I was feeling like he had. I didn’t even know if I had the energy for the main course, but I sure as hell was gonna muster it up.

  Even after I creamed, he stayed in position down low. He spread me open just a little further and blew warm air across my petals causing me to shiver. I gripped the sheet in between my fists, and my back arched slightly. And just when I thought he was done with me, he did a sneak attack on my clit, laying his tongue flat against its peak and applying intermittent pressure. That’s when I knew I was done for!

  My body convulsed like I was in damn seizure mode. It felt like an inferno was burning inside my body as the waves of warmth engulfed my middle and everything else that surrounded his main course. I shrieked in tongues, with words that I barely understood. “F-f-f…uu…ckk! Sh-shhh…it!” I don’t know how long it took for me to come off my high and back down to earth, but when I did all I could do was bring my hands to my face in embarrassment for all the damn screaming and begging I had done. “Oh. My. God! That’s soooo fucked up, Bennie!”

  “What?!” he laughed.

  “Ugghh! I swear I can’t stand you! Just ugh!”

  “What?!” he asked, still laughing. He knew full damn well what the fuck I was talking about.

  “Why you gotta have me all up in here sounding like I need a fuckin’ ambulance and shit?! I know why! Yo’ ass ain’t nowhere near slick. You wanna be able to take bragging rights back to your friends, huh?”

  “Nah, it ain’t even like that. I just want you to feel good…you and all this smooth milk chocolate,” he said, rubbing my leg. “That’s it, that’s all. It’s my duty,” he smiled.

  “Whatever you say,” I remarked, pulling my hands away from my face.

  “Damn, though. You taste good than a muthafucka, girl,” he commented, coming up beside me licking his lips. “It’s like a juicy ass peach down there. Sweet and juicy ass peach. So much juice I can’t get enough. You keep a nigga fed, that’s for damn sure.” Then he started chuckling a little bit.

  “What you laughin’ at?”

  “I felt you pushing on my head. You already know that shit ain’t gonna work. You know I’m down there for every last drip drop!”

  “I know, baby.” I was slightly out of breath and in heaven. I ran my hand across my stomach, remembering the moment. He leaned over and licked my bottom lip with his tongue and then slowly sucked my lip into his mouth to suckle on it. Before long, I felt his hand move up and cup my breasts, while he was massaged all the flesh surrounding my nipple. I could feel my Hershey morsels respond by hardening against his touch, and once again my breath started to quicken. Shit! I had just caught my damn breath, and now here he was waking up all my damn senses again.

  “Hold on, baby…” I requested.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, grazing his teeth over my other nipple. “I can make it all better,” he chuckled. “You know I can.”

  “Yeah,” I smiled. “I do know. Ain’t nothin’ wrong. It’s all way too right. But I get a turn too, don’t I?” I asked, reaching down to grab his dick into my hand. I stroked long and hard up and down his shaft and slid my thumb across his tip, layering pre cum over his head as I went along. “He’s growing in my hand, baby. It’s cool if I show him some attention, right?”

  “M’hmm,” he moaned in agreement, letting go of my tittie and falling over onto his back. “It’s cool with me.”

  It took me nanoseconds to reverse mount him and take control of the dick. I stroked some more with both hands until his dick stood strong and tall; I lowered my mouth onto him, and sucked him to the back of my throat. As I rotated my tongue around his dick, he grunted and moaned, and that gave me more incentive to gobble his meat with everything I had.

  I could feel the air hit my pussy as Bennie spread my cheeks in excitement. That shit felt good too! I knew from how close his hands were getting to my ass that he was tempted to go where no man had ever gone before, but I’d already told him—a few times—that the hole he was so curious about was off limits. That hole would only get penetrated by my husband when I got one—and maybe not even then. But I knew what I was opening myself up to every time I sucked his dick in this position. He had the full view of all of his temptation, so I knew it was torture, but that was part of my excitement. When his hands tightened around my ass cheeks, and his dick began to jerk against my mouth, I smiled because I already knew that he was close to bustin’. I was swift with it; I turned around, reached for one of the loose condoms on the bed and sheathed him before hopping on top of his dick and sliding down on it until it reached the top of my cove. He threw his hands across my thighs to keep me close and he fucked me from beneath while I fucked him from the top, both of us sounding off loudly and getting lost in the feeling of it all.

  “Fuck! Baby…fuck!”

  Our non-synchronized screams, moans, and deep grunts, sounded
like an off-key band. When I glanced down at him, he was in a zone with his chin up, his head pointed toward the headboard, and his mouth wide open. I didn’t need to look back to see that his toes had curled because they always did when I surf-boarded him. A knowing smile crossed my face, as I lifted slightly to bring his dick to the tip of my entrance, and then bounced back down, making his thighs quiver against mine. I repeated the motion, squeezed my walls around the dick and slid back down on him again.

  “Aarrrggghhh! Fuuuucckk!” he yelled. I continued to squeezing his rod even as he emptied his nut. “Fuuuck!” Through labored breaths, he managed to ask, “Why…you…doin’ that?! Shiiitt!”

  I chuckled under my breath. Now he knew how I felt when I was covering my damn face not too long ago. After we had both climaxed, the room stood eerily quiet. The only thing that could be heard was our breathing. It was always like that with us when we finished a session—straight spent!

  “You know I love you, right, Jazzmina?” he asked, when he finally caught his breath.

  “I know you love fuckin’ me!” I joked. “And don’t call me by my whole name. You know I don’t like it.”

  He didn’t know that I hated being called Jazzmina because that was a name that my so-called mother named me and she’d long ago left my life. That name was the only reminder I had of her and I didn’t need it. Besides, the shit sounded ghetto as fuck.

  He gave me a look, his face turning serious. “Alright. My bad, Jazz. No more with the full name,” he chuckled. “Especially since it gets you all like that and shit.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But anyway; ‘bout you dismissin’ a nigga’s feelin’s and shit. S’up with that?”