Page 46 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
Still with the frown on his face that made him look worse than the fucked up physical attributes he was born with, his ungrateful ass kicked the bag. A salad, fruit, three turkey sandwiches, and six bottles of water rolled out.
“Ion want this shit! I need a burger! Some wings! Steak or some shit! Fuck I look like? A rabbit?”
“With those big-ass teeth in your mouth? Yeah, you can pass for a rabbit, but not the furry, cute ones. Eat the fucking food, Hobo. I don’t have to feed yo’ ass. Don’t take my kindness for weakness. Besides… the fucking cholesterol and blood pressure you have, you need healthy choices.”
“Nigga, you looked at my MyChart?”
“Yeah. I had to make sure I’m not housing a sickly-ass nigga. Eat the fucking food, Hobo.”
Instead of waiting for his reply, I walked backward. This nigga didn’t pump any fear into my heart—not even by a long shot—but weak niggas like him did coward shit like sneak hits. If he did some shit like that, nephew was going to have to understand my reasoning for ending his sperm donor.
“This mob shit can’t save y’all forever! I got people that’s gone come see about me! Watch! You gone be begging for my mercy, and it’s gone beyouthat need the Bible.”
I smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
That shit made him even more mad, and he started yelling. “My son will let me go! He will never hurt me! I took care of himand his dusty-ass mammy their whole lives. Where was you mob niggas? Hunh? That lil’ nigga came from my nutsack!” Hobo was foaming at the mouth, but he hadn’t moved from his spot.
“You a talker. I’m a doer. Remember that shit, Hobo.”
Closing the basement door, I left the house the same way I came. Hobo had been my last stop of the day before I took it in. Hopping in the truck, I picked up the blunt that was still lit and inhaled. I’d put the lean and the pills down, and I didn’t drink as much as I used to, so my daily blunt was one I hadn’t been able to let go. Outside of working out and prayer, it was my calming mechanism, and if I didn’t have the potency in my lungs, a whole bunch of motherfuckers would be in the dirt.
Pooh Shiesty rumbled through the speakers as I drove in the direction of my home. Rolling my left arm as I came to a red light, I held the blunt in between my lips as I attempted to relieve the ache in my shoulder. I’d gone a little too hard in my home gym this morning and was starting to feel the burn after taking the long-ass drive to the cabin. I didn’t know if Hobo’s words were true when it came to Neltz not being able to kill him, but it had been lingering in the back of my mind. I had to keep him alive for the next eight years. That shit was nearly a fucking decade. If Lil’ Nel Jr. let his sperm donor go, that was going to pose a problem for me and the mob as a whole. The gorilla-looking nigga knew too much and was a known rat. I had eight years to handle this shit, though, so I tried to calm my overactive mind. I’d worry about it when the time came.
My phone ringing paused the music. It was my personal phone, and the number on it was one I’d learned by heart in the last few months.
“Wassup?” I pushed out a thick wad of smoke with my greeting.
“Mr. Cuppacio. You have a guest. A female companion here at the front gate.”
“Shit.” I’d forgotten I’d scheduled with ole girl today. The thought of her soft body underneath mine made my dick throb. “I thought I already added her to the list temporarily,” I said more to myself than to the guard.
I live in a gated HOA community that costs me way too much money, but I prefer being out in plain sight rather than in the middle of nowhere, on some secluded land. My neighbors are mostly high-powered investors, politicians, and even a few athletes. Everyone minds their own fucking business, and I fucked with that. Besides, minding their business was the safest thing for them to do.
“Let her in. I’ll be there soon.” I disconnected the line before the guard could get another word in. I fucked with Samuel, but right now, I needed to take this exotic to the head and release all the fucking negative thoughts that had surfaced while dealing with Hobo.
I didn’t like to bring any weird vibes across my threshold. Energy lingered—it was the reason why I rarely had my people over. People’s spirits had to be checked at the front door. Right now, shit was good in the family, so I didn't mind them stopping by. However, back when Renello and Metavello were plotting against Rio and didn’t want anybody telling them shit, I had barred their asses from my oasis.
By the time I made it through the gates and drove the eight minutes it took to get from the front gate to my home, I’d finished my blunt, thought of nineteen different ways I was about to slang my dick, and said a long prayer.
The three-story house, built of warm-hued brick and sitting atop a basement, was one of my few joys, and it cost me a ticket. Besides the million-dollar price tag, I was still paying out of pocket annually for pool access, the country club membership, monthly activities, and other amenities I never planned to use. I was a simple man who didn’t need much to feel fulfilled exceptsecurity. Living in Majestic Creek provided just that, but it also involved a financial sacrifice that would have shame little boys. There were hardly any rentals here, and I managed to buy my property for nearly thirty percent off the asking price because I lucked up with the former owner. He was an investor who freaked out when the stock market dipped. Instead of selling the property of one of his side chicks, he decided to abandon his wife and kids and put this place on the market. Tough luck for them, but great timing for me.
I loved everything about this place. My home was tucked in a cove and often admired by my neighbors because of the landscaping. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the windows, and the lushest grass—rivaling both the Dons’ estates—formed the foundation. I put just as much love into the inside as I did the outside. My space—all eighty-six hundred square feet—had been well planned and carefully thought out. If there was no sign of that on the outside, once you crossed the front doors, it became obvious. Every inch of my house was decorated in warm tones, with brown hues as the primary color. It was masculine but not so much that a woman couldn’t live comfortably here. I also wasn’t tied to the choices I’d made. If I found a wife today, and she told me the inside decor had to go, the shit would be on the street faster than a New York minute, no matter how much I loved it. Luckily for me, the woman sitting behind the tint in my driveway wouldn’t be making those demands because she didn’t have that kind of pull and never would.
Pulling into the garage next to my Porsche, I killed the engine of the truck. I shook my head, looking at the candy red vehicle. I purchased the car solely because I liked the way the Cuppacio Twins looked in theirs. I had only driven it twice: once from the lot and again to the tint man. Whenever I drove it for the third time, it’d probably be to sell the shit. I had a handful of cars, but the truck was what I considered my everyday car. The shit was agas guzzler with how much I milled her up on the daily, but she was the most low-key vehicle out of my lineup.
Instead of hitting the electrical button to let the garage down, I kept it up and let my hard dick lead the way into the house. I’d barely made it out of the mudroom before I heard her heels echoing on my freshly waxed floors. I wasn’t anal about shoes being kicked off at the door, namely because I rarely had company. Even if I didn’t allow outside shoes inside my space, I would demand that she keep hers on. There was something so sensual about a woman getting fucked right out of her heels. Instead of taking her down right in the living room, I continued walking into the first guest room to the right. I always use one of my spare bedrooms, and never my personal one, to handle my dick’s business. That space was for me, and hopefully, the woman I would be spending the rest of my life with. It was bad enough that I let the siren inside my most sacred cave, but since she’d been vetted, I allowed it.
I eyed the cream decorative pillow on the queen-sized bed that sat in the middle of the bedroom. It was crooked by an inch, but to the untrained eye, it looked just fine. It wasn’t how it should have been, and I noted such in my mind. Before I could investigate the room further, the woman of the hour sauntered her way in while untying her trench coat. Standing at the foot of the bed and facing the door, my dick grew even harder at the sight of her. I was a man of patience. A man of discipline. At the end of the day, though, I was still a fucking Cuppacio. I needed my dick wet, and while I didn’t have to fuck every night, I needed mine at least once a week. I could even go two weeks depending on my work schedule, and since I’d been busier than usual, it had been thirteen days since I’d sunken into something warm and wet.
The flawless beauty before me was one of two that I kept on call in case I needed a nut. Ever since I’d had to get rid ofBahati’s ass, I made it my mission to not stick my dick in just one woman. Exclusivity meant commitment in most people's eyes. I’d learned that, and all it took was for me to see some shit once for me to never repeat the fuck up again. When I became a one-woman man, it would be because that one had the potential to be my wife. I didn’t entertain a slew of women because any smart man knew multiple women meant multiple problems. Two was the magic number for me, and this week, the sculpted frame in front of me held the number one spot.
“How do you want me?” A small smile tugged at her glossed pink lips while she waited for me to give her instructions.
Her yellow manicured nails moved slowly as she toyed with the belt of her jacket, waiting for a command. To any other man, a woman arriving to get fucked in a trench was something like a fantasy. Fuck a fantasy. I was trying to figure out how she hadn’t passed out in that Jagoda Bay heat with the heavy overgarment on. It didn’t matter; my dick was still hard.
With the coat now pooled around her black heels, I was staring at what could only be described as a work of fucking art. Her breasts, which were a D cup, were shielded by a black lace bra. The matching thong on her lower half covered a waxed pussy, and her dark skin had an irresistible glow to it. I didn’t know if she’d rolled in cocoa butter before she arrived, but every part of her looked smooth. She was in the gym just as much as I was, so her taut stomach was flat, but since her hips and ass were colossal, there was no way her body fat would ever get down low enough for her to have abs. All the fucking fat was stored in the curves of her hips and the plumpness of her ass. It was an ass that I’d grown fond of feeling bounce on me as I drilled her from behind.
“I want you on your knees, Uriah.”
