Chapter 8: Chapter 8
The Pink Valley swallowed him whole the moment he stepped through the smoked-glass doors. Neon signs bleeding rose and gold across the walls, velvet drapes heavy as funeral shrouds, the bass of hip hop music thumping low and primal through the floor. Marcus let his eyes adjust, scanning the room with the practiced calm of a man who knew exactly why he was here.
Professor Slick Rick sat in a corner booth like a king on a throne, draped in a purple suit that screamed for attention and got it. His rings flashed as he raised a glass of something amber, grinning wide enough to show the gold cap on his left molar. At his feet, a woman in a silver bikini knelt on the carpet, her eyes downcast, her hand resting possessively on his knee like a loyal dog.
"There he is," Rick boomed, spreading his arms. "My man! The pimp in the making. Come sit your ass down, boy."
Marcus slid into the booth across from him, the leather creaking under his weight. He'd filled out over the years, shoulders broad, chest defined beneath his black button-up, but beside Rick's gaudy opulence he still felt like the scrawny eighteen-year-old who'd first learned the game in a smoky backroom.
"I'm not a pimp, Rick."
"The hell you ain't." Rick laughed, a low rumble. "You got bitches scattered all over this city like loose change. You got a lawyer, a fighter, a trainer, twins who'd kill for you, and now you picked up two basketball players and a singer. That ain't a social circle, Marcus. That's a damn stable. Hell, a roster."
"They're not prostitutes," Marcus said flatly. "They all have jobs. Careers. They're not selling their bodies for my pockets."
Rick waved a dismissive hand. "Same shit, different toilet. You think I started different? Nah. You control the pussy, you control the power. You just got classier taste than I do." He snapped his fingers, and the woman at his feet rose without a word, slinking toward the back. "But speaking of classy taste. I got something for you tonight. A gift."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I don't need gifts."
"Oh, you need this one." Rick's grin widened. He nodded toward the stage, where a new figure emerged from behind the curtain.
She moved like water, all liquid hips and deliberate grace. Copper-brown skin glowing under the lights, a body that curved in all the right places and then some. C-cup breasts that sat high and firm, barely contained by the black lace bra she wore. And her ass. God. Her ass was a work of art, round and heavy and hypnotic, swinging with every step she took. She reached the pole and gripped it, spinning once, slow, letting the crowd drink her in. She reminded him of a mix of Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion body wise.
"That's Jade," Rick said, leaning close. "Twenty-six years old. Stripped since she was nineteen. Smart as a whip, hungry as a wolf, and she's been begging me to let her stretch her legs beyond this joint."
Marcus watched her work the pole. She wasn't just dancing. She was performing, playing the crowd like an instrument, making eye contact with every man in the room and promising each one something secret. When she locked eyes with Marcus, she smiled. Not a performer's smile. Something genuine and playful, a spark of mischief.
"Why me?" Marcus asked.
"Why not you? Because you're the future, baby boy. And I'm the past." Rick patted his arm. "I'm too old to break in new bitches. She needs a man who can handle her. You think you can handle her?"
Marcus could feel the heat rising in his chest, the familiar pull of hunger that never quite left him. He turned back to the stage. Jade had dropped to her knees now, back arched, hands trailing down her own thighs. She was watching him. Waiting.
"I can handle her," he said slowly.
Rick laughed, loud and delighted. "That's what I like to hear. Go on then. VIP room's open. She's yours for the night."
Marcus slid out of the booth, his eyes never leaving Jade. She rose from the floor, unhurried, and crooked a finger at him.
The VIP room was a different world. Darker, quieter, the bass reduced to a heartbeat pulsing through the walls. A plush leather sectional dominated the space, surrounded by sheer curtains that did nothing to hide what happened inside. Marcus stood in the center of the room, hands in his pockets, watching as Jade closed the door behind them and turned the lock with a soft click.
She didn't give him time to say anything. She just walked toward him, that rolling sashay of hers eating up the distance, and pressed her palm flat against his chest. She felt the muscle beneath his shirt and let out a low whistle.
"Damn. Rick said you used to be some scrawny nerd. Looks like he lied."
"I used to be. Well... still am. You don't believe in growth?"
"I believe in what I can feel." She said, dragging her hand down his torso, slow, deliberate, until her fingers found the waistband of his pants. "And I can feel a whole lot of growth right here."
Marcus caught her wrist, not hard, just enough to stop her. Her grey eyes flicked up to meet his, gleaming with amusement.
"What's the protocol for meetings in between pimps?" she asked, tilting her head. "We skip the small talk and go straight to the check?"
"Something like that."
"That's what I was hoping you'd say."
She pulled her hand free and took a step back, giving him a full view. Then she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall. Her tits spilled out, round and full and dark-nippled, already perking in the cool air. She didn't rush. She let him look, rolling her shoulders, watching his eyes follow every inch of her.
"I've danced for hundreds of men, Marcus. Some of them think watching makes them in control. Some of them think tipping makes them in control. But you? You've got a certain...look to you. Like you already know exactly what you're going to do with me."
"Maybe I do."
"Then stop being coy and come do it."
Marcus closed the distance between them in two strides. His hands found her hips, gripping the bare skin above her thong, and he pulled her flush against him. She let out a breath, her mouth parting, and then he kissed her. Hard. Demanding. She moaned into it, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer like she couldn't get enough.
He walked her backward until her knees hit the leather couch and she dropped onto it, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He reached down, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his cock. It was already rock hard, thick and veined, and he stroked it once, watching her reaction. Her tongue darted out, wetting her thick, pouty lips.
"Looks like Rick found me a man with some real meat," she breathed. "Come here. Let me show you how a real stripper thanks a new patron."
He stepped forward, and she grabbed his cock at the base with practiced confidence, pressing the head against her lips before taking him into her mouth. No hesitation. No fumbling. She knew exactly what she was doing. She swirled her tongue around the tip, then sank down, taking him deep, all the way to the base. Her throat relaxed, and she held him there for a moment, looking up at him with those grey eyes, tears gathering at the edges but her gaze steady and hungry.
"Shit," Marcus growled, his head falling back. "Just like that. Mmm."
She hummed in response, the vibration traveling through his entire body. She bobbed her head, slow, then faster, her hand working the shaft while her mouth worked the head. Her free hand cupped his balls, massaging them with practiced skill. She knew what she was doing, and she was enjoying every second of it.
Marcus grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her off him with a small string of saliva connecting her lips to his cock. She gasped, her chest heaving, her lips slick and swollen.
"Turn around," he said. "On your hands and knees."
She obeyed without a word, positioning herself on the leather couch, arching her back, giving him the full view of that hypnotic ass. She reached back and ripped her thong aside herself, exposing her wet pussy.
"I'm ready for you," she whispered. "Don't make me wait."
Marcus lined himself up and slammed into her. The sound was wet and obscene, a sharp slap of skin as he buried himself to the root. Jade cried out, a raw, throaty sound, and pushed back against him.
"Fuck," she gasped. "Yes. That's it. Don't be gentle."
He wasn't. He gripped her hips and drove into her hard, setting a brutal rhythm, his balls slapping against her clit with every thrust. She moaned and cursed and pushed back, meeting him stroke for stroke. The VIP room filled with the sound of their bodies colliding, her breasts swinging back and forth beneath her, her cries carrying through the sheer curtains.
"Whose pussy is this?" Marcus growled, slapping her ass. The impact echoed, her cheeks jiggling.
"Yours," she whimpered. "It's yours. Fuck me, Marcus. Fuck me like I'm yours."
He gave her what she asked for. His thrusts came harder, deeper, each one driving her body forward against the leather until her knees were sliding and she had to grip the couch's edge just to stay in place. The sound of his hips slapping against her fat ass filled the VIP room, a steady, obscene rhythm that drowned out the muffled bass from the club beyond.
Jade was reduced to a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. She pushed back against every stroke, her back arching deeper, her grey eyes rolling back in her head as waves of pleasure rolled through her.
"You like this? Huh? Tell me how much you like this." Marcus growled, leaning over her, his chest pressing against her back, his hand snaking around to grip her throat. Not hard. Just firm enough to remind her who was in control. "You like being claimed?"
"Yes," she gasped. "Fuck, yes, I love it. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"You're mine now, Jade. You understand that? You dance for other men, you smile for other men, but this pussy? It belongs to me." He said in a growling voice, then spanked her.
SMACK.
She cried out, her body shuddering as she came hard around his cock. Her walls clenched and released, milking him, her voice breaking into a raw scream that she barely muffled by biting down on her own knuckles. Marcus didn't stop. He kept pounding through her orgasm, letting her ride it out, feeling her squeeze him with every wave of pleasure that coursed through her body.
"That's it," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "Take it. Take daddy's dick. Take your first taste of what I give to my girls."
"More," she begged, her voice wrecked. "Give me more. I want all of it."
He pulled out abruptly, spinning her around on the couch with a roughness that made her gasp. She looked up at him, chest heaving, eyes wild with hunger. Her body was slick with sweat, her skin glowing under the dim amber light. He climbed over her, positioning himself between her thighs, and drove into her again in one smooth, brutal stroke.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper. Her hands found his shoulders, nails biting into his skin through his shirt. Her mouth found his, and she kissed him with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.
"Look at me," Marcus commanded, slowing his pace just enough to make her focus. "When I'm fucking you, I want you looking at me. I want you to remember exactly who put this feeling in your gut."
She stared up at him, her grey eyes glassy with tears of pleasure, but there was something else there too. Surrender. A quiet acceptance of who was in charge.
"I'll remember," she whispered. "I'll never forget this."
He slammed into her again, and she came apart beneath him, her body convulsing, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. He followed her over the edge, his hips locking against hers as he buried himself to the hilt and unloaded inside her, hot and thick, claiming her with every drop.
They stayed that way for a long moment, tangled together, breathing ragged and sweat-slicked. Jade's hand came up to cup his jaw, her thumb tracing over his cheek as she looked up at him with a soft, wondering smile.
"Well," she breathed. "Rick said you were special. Looks like he wasn't just running his mouth."
Not long after that, Marcus got a text from Rick saying:
"Impressive, my man. I got another bitch for you. Her name is Minnie. She can rock your world."
Marcus read the message, the screen's glow casting pale shadows across his face. He exhaled through his nose, half amused, half annoyed, and set the phone facedown on the leather cushion.
Jade noticed. She propped herself up on one elbow, her body still glistening, her hair a mess of sweat-kissed curls. "Let me guess. Rick's already trying to run another one in on you."
"Minnie," Marcus said flatly.
Jade laughed, a low, throaty sound. "Minnie. That bitch been trying to get out of this place for years. Rick keeps her on a short leash because she's too wild for the main floor." She traced a finger along his chest. "You gonna go chase her down tonight?"
Marcus caught her wrist and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "No. I'm good right where I am."
Something softened in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. She just leaned in and pressed her lips to his, slow and tender, a stark contrast to the rough claiming minutes before.
When they finally pulled apart, Marcus reached for his phone and typed a short reply to Rick:
"Maybe another time. Tell Minnie I'll find her when I'm ready."
Rick's response came almost instantly: a laughing emoji and the words:
"That's my man. Come see me before you leave."
Marcus rose, zipping his pants, and offered Jade his hand. She took it, rising with the practiced grace of a woman who spent years moving her body for a living. She didn't bother putting her bra back on. She just slipped her dress over her head and let it fall, the fabric hugging her curves like it was made for her.
"The job's in play, ain't it?" she asked, watching him.
"What job?"
"The one you're building. Rick talks. I listen. You got women scattered all across the city, but you don't have someone watching your back. You got lawyers and fighters and trainers, but you need soldiers. Street soldiers."
Marcus studied her for a long moment. She was sharp. Sharper than Rick had let on. He liked that.
"Maybe I do," he said.
"Then call your boys." Jade smiled, small and knowing. "And when you do, tell them they're gonna meet a lot of pretty women who know how to keep their mouths shut."
Marcus pulled out his phone again, scrolling to Jason's contact. Then Pablo's. He typed a single message, sent it to both.
"Drinks at my place. Tonight. Got a proposition."
He pocketed the phone and kissed Jade one more time, deeper this time, his hand cupping the back of her neck.
"Get my number from Rick," he murmured against her lips. "You'll be hearing from me."
She grinned, biting her bottom lip. "Yes, sir."
"Call me daddy." Marcus said with a smile.
"Ok... daddy."
Marcus left the VIP room, the bass of the club washing over him again, the neon glow painting him in shades of rose and gold. Behind him, Jade watched him go, her fingers absently touching her lips, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.