Chapter Three- Buddha #2
“Discipline me! Do you two think I’m some kind of puppy that needs training?
Fuck you, Lewis, for getting me dragged into this, and fuck both of you.
Father and son, I’d rather die than become your wife!
” she screamed, and then she turned her head to the right and spat on the ground.
She eyed me with disgust, her chest heaving with rage.
Before I knew what I was doing, I marched over to her, and for the second time, my gun was pointed at her temple. I snatched the back of her neck, forcing her to look at me, as the cool tip of my barrel pressed into the side of her head.
“Would you really rather die?” I asked her, as my eyes slowly admired her beauty.
I grabbed her hair even tighter, making her mouth open slightly as she tried not to scream from pain.
I couldn’t help but stare at her mouth, wanting to put something inside of it so she would have no choice but to shut the fuck up.
“Answer me, will you rather die than be my wife?” Dior couldn’t respond; she just looked up at me with her head bent backward. A fistful of her hair in my grasp as she tried not to pass out from pain.
“Mr. Ricci, please call off your son. Move that gun away from my daughter,” Lewis spoke, but his pleas went unnoticed.
I suddenly zoomed in on Dior’s breasts in the tank top she was wearing.
Her cleavage firm and inviting. Tucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I moved my hand from the back of her neck and boldly cupped her left breast. My eyes never left hers as I squeezed her breast, ignoring the fact that there were still others in the room.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” she said, even though she was asking me to stop touching her.
I could tell from her eyes and the changes in her breathing.
That was the last thing she wanted. I bet that if no one else had been present, she would have allowed me to do some very disrespectful things to her. I smiled before I removed my hand.
“Fuck all this, I’m about to go get my dick sucked,” I said crudely.
Her eyes grew wide at my boldness. I tucked my gun away before I turned to my father.
“Marrying her was not what we discussed. I’m not gonna fucking do it,” I meant every last word before I turned and walked out of the room.
As I made my way up the stairs to get back to the main house, I heard footsteps behind me, and then my name was called.
“Phillipe!” I ignored the sound of my father as I took the stairs two at a time. “I will not tolerate disrespect, son!” I stopped and turned to face him.
“It’s not disrespect that you blindsided me? You told me that his daughter was going to be used to pressure him into paying the money back. How in the actual fuck did that turn into me getting married to a stranger?” I asked, folding my arms, waiting for an explanation.
“Because this is business.”
“Business?” I repeated, unsure how getting married to Dior was business.
“Son, I’m an old man. You think I have another two years or more running this business in me?
I need to retire, but I can’t do that without knowing my ship will be steered by a capable captain.
You think the men I do business with will trust an unmarried man who loves getting his dick sucked in strip clubs?
These men want to do business with a family man, someone who is married and ready to start his own family, have a beautiful wife, and children.
If you’re not loyal and faithful to your own family, how do you expect these men I do business with to trust you?
They won’t,” my father placed both his hands on my shoulders as he spoke.
“Then get Snow to do it. After all, he’s the oldest. Allow him to run the business; he’s already married, so I don’t need to be.” I tried to reason with my father by throwing my older brother, Vincent, under the bus.
“Buddha please,” my father took his hands off my shoulders as he breathed heavily. “Snow can’t even take care of himself; he’s wild, reckless, and his wife’s no better. Nobody will want to do business with him. It must be you,” I rubbed my temples because this was some bull-shit.
“I can’t marry Dior, Tomasso,” I said, shaking my head.
“Why not? She’s pretty and of good age to have kids; just make her fall in love with you. You’re a Ricci that won’t be too hard,” he squeezed my upper arm, laughing softly at what he said.
“Na, she seems too difficult. I’ll fuck around and strangle her for that mouth she has,” I took a step back, not wanting anything to do with his plan.
“Listen,” my father started, grabbing his forehead and rubbing it.
“Go do whatever it is you’re about to do.
Take your mind off things for a bit. When you get back, come see me.
Dior will still be here, and I’ll need you to be on board with this.
No, it's not an option, son,” he reached up and grabbed both sides of my face.
He looked me right in my eyes, basically telling me I had no choice.
I frowned at the mouth and nodded my head, realizing that my father had made his decision about my life.
“Cool,” I said, removing his hands from my face. There was nothing left to be said, so I continued my journey up the stairs.
“Come see me when you get back!” he shouted behind me. I remained quiet as I climbed the stairs. My life was a fucking movie, I swear.
*****
“You know how much I like to see your eyes when you’re sucking my dick,” I told Apple, pulling her hair away from the sides of her face. Squeezing the back of her neck, I lifted my hips and thrusted inside of her mouth until she choked.
“Na, no fucking choking, suck this mothafucka,” I slammed her face forward, ignoring the gagging noises she made as my tip touched her tonsils.
“Yeah, that’s it, just like that. Let me see you play with your nipples,” I commanded. I always loved being in control. Apple did as I suggested and rolled both nipples between her fingertips, as she continued sucking my dick.
“Oh fucckkkkkk,” I grunted, gripping her head steady as I exploded in her mouth.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned, drinking every last drop of my cum down the back of her throat. I closed my eyes, trying to regulate my breathing and the pulsing of my heart.
“You seem tense tonight. Is everything alright, daddy?” Apple asked, getting off her knees. She was one of the regular strippers I saw at least three times a week. I would come here to release my stress and be on my fucking way.
“What, you’re my fucking therapist now?” I asked, standing up, zipping my pants.
“No, I was just making conversation because you don’t seem yourself, that’s all,” she answered defensively.
“I don’t pay you to make conversation, I pay you to suck my dick,” I reminded her as I took $500 from my pocket and handed it to her.
“Whatever, Buddha,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. Females were always so sensitive and in their fucking feelings. She took the money, stuffing it inside her bikini top.
“I’ll see you maybe next week,” I began, making my way out of the private room of The Golden Slipper strip club. My eyes burned because I was really tired after such a shitty fucking day. Now it was time to go home and deal with even more bull-shit.
“Where’s daddy?” I asked my brother when I stepped inside the main house.
My brother, sister, and I all lived in the same compound, but in separate houses.
My father purchased over 20 acres of land and built the main house first. Then, as we all grew, he built all of us our own individual homes.
However, I believed each of us spent most of our time at the main house with our parents.
“How the fuck would I know?” Vincent replied, sniffing loudly as he rubbed his nose.
I looked at my brother and shook my head.
Vincent, or Snow as he was normally called, was thirty-five years old, two years older than I was.
This nigga, acted like a damn teenager most of the time.
He got his nickname Snow when he was about twenty because he had a patch of gray at the front of his curly hair.
Around his neck, he also wore an iced-out chain with a huge snowflake pendant.
The nickname also suited him because he was a fucking cocaine addict.
This was the reason our father didn’t trust him to take over the business's operations, even though he was older. Vincent spent most of his days getting fucking high with his wife, Ciara. Ciara was the one who introduced him to his drug habit; they both were a fucking mess.
“Then why the fuck are you here if you don’t know shit. March your powder sniffing ass on to yo got damn house,” I fussed at him, taking my phone out of my back pocket.
“Man, fuck you. I heard you're about to be married and shit. Who’s the unlucky bitch?” Vincent asked, kicking his long legs out as he toyed with his curly mohawk.
“Nobody’s about to be married, fuck you nigga,” I said, waiting for my father to pick up the phone.
“I’m in my office, hurry up and get here,” my father said.
“Where’s Dior?” I asked, hoping he would say he had changed his mind and that she had left with her father.
“She’s right here waiting on your ass.” Next thing I knew, he hung up on me.
“Fuck,” I muttered, feeling as though I was about to get a massive headache.
“Is that her name? Dior?” Vincent was about to get on my fucking nerves with his questions.
“Nigga, go sniff a line off Ciara’s tittie and stop being in grown’s folk business,” I told him as I made my way to where my father was waiting on me. I let out a loud sigh when I heard my brother following me.
“Na, let me meet my soon-to-be sister-in-law,” Ignoring him, I walked toward my father’s office and knocked on the door.