TYCE Read Online Free PDF Page A

nobody could hear him scream like the bitch he was, she
    sat on top of his hairy stomach and asked,
“How bad you wanna throw that dick inside this pussy? Yeah, I saw you staring at me…you wanted to fuck me an hour before you even met me! You sure you can handle a bitch like me?”
    Marcus shook his head up and down rapidly! Angelique leaned over the side of the bed while still on top of him, her hand found the leather bag and inside she retrieved what she was looking for. As he squirmed showing his excitement she let him see the knife as she waved it menacingly in the air. Marcus’s eyes bulged and he muffed and growled in anger, spit leaking from the corners of his mouth. Marcus raised his hips in the air and tried to buck her off but Angelique tightened her thighs and rode him like a professional bull rider. The tip of the blade dug into his skin as he forced out muffled screams. Angelique continued to straddle him, locking his waist in her powerful thighs and performed her surgery despite the turbulent ride. When she was finished, Marcus lay on the bed exhausted with crimson puddles on the sides of his body. Sweat flowed into the river of blood oozing down his rib cage. Angelique stood up and admired her surgical skills. The words FUK U were jaggedly carved into his chest.
“See you one of those muthafuckas that think he can have what you want when you want it! Well sorry, pussy ass nigga… I aint for sale! Now you have somethin’ to remind you of that shit everyday!”
    As Marcus laid there bleeding and panting in pain, Angelique put on her clothes and grabbed the bag that held her punitive damages. She walked back to the side of the bed looked Marcus in the eyes and spit in his sweaty black face. Wasting no time, she ran to her Jag, jumped in and quietly rolled away. Once she was safely on the freeway, she inspected her face in the rear view mirror. She had a gash on her cheek and her lip was cut in the corner.
" Fuckin’ bastard !" she spat. "Who tha fuck Biz think he is slapping me, I’m not that run to the shelter, file a restraining order type bitch! I'm the kinda bitch that will hit you where it counts, in the pockets! That was a two hundred thousand dollar smack...I hope he enjoyed it!"
    Then her eyes shifted over to the bag that held her parting gifts and she felt a little better.

 
     
     
    The Hit
     
     
          Hidden under the porch me and Omar waited patiently. We were dressed in all black and blended in with the shadows perfectly. I pulled the ski mask over my face and released the safety on all three of my guns. Omar did the same and handed me the silencers. He tossed me a pair of gloves and put his mask on.
“You want some skittles ?” I offered pulling out a pack.
“Yeah.”
    We ate and crouched in silence, I turned my phone off after Biz called to check in on us, I didn’t want Samsung giving away our position.
    A white minivan pulled up in front of the house and a short Mexican got out. He walked briskly across the grass and approached the steps. I turned and nodded at Omar. We rolled out from under the porch, sprung to our feet, and aimed the guns at the drop man.
" Don't fuckin’ move holmes !" I commanded.
    Omar rushed behind the dude and quickly searched him. He was shook; we had caught him off guard.
" Move !" Omar said pushing the man to the
side of the house. "Get on ya knees!" He ordered.
    I shoved my gun in his right eye and Omar jammed one in his crotch.
"You droppin' tonight!" I questioned.
"Nnn no no, pickeen nup!" He stammered.
"Pickin up what vato?" I asked.
    His left eye moved around rapidly as he talked.
"I'm pppickeen nup tha dinero, tha dinero!" He said in an accent.
"How much?" Omar asked jamming his gun in deeper.
"Two hunerd an fifteee!"
    I snatched the man to his feet and put the barrel in his right eye again. His left eye was tearing up and bouncing around like a pinball.
"Look at me! You knock on that door and don't say a muthafuckin’ word comprende!"
"Si