For the Strength of You by Victor L. Martin Read Free Book Online

Phat in block letters, written in pink, going straight across her ass. Not since Anshon was fuckin’ with Constance had he seen such a perfect ass. Without thinking, Anshon grabbed his dick.
    Destiny Child’s “Souljah” started playing, and everybody in the place started moving to the beat. Anshon licked his lips as shawtie started throwing her ass and dancing in the spot where she was standing. Anshon picked up his beer and started walking toward the dance floor, leaving Doughnut standing next to Lexie and Von.
    â€œYou know, if I was your man,” Anshon said, pressing his dick into shawtie’s ass, “I wouldn’t let you out of the house looking like this.”
    She threw her ass deeper into his crotch. Anshon felt like his hard-on was a ticking time bomb.
    â€œLooking like what?” she asked, still pressing her ass into his shaft.
    â€œLike a dime.”
    â€œOh, no you didn’t insult me.” She turned around toward him, her mouth twisted.
    â€œGoddamn,” he said. “Untwist your mouth.” Anshon took both of his hands and pushed the microbraids that fell over her shoulders behind her ears, revealing her name-plated, gold-hoop earrings. “Damn, you look good.”
    â€œFor your information . . .” She smirked, looking him up and down. “I’m not a dime. I’m a twenty spot, so get yo’ shit untwisted. And furthermore, you don’t know me well enough to be puttin’ yo’ dick against my ass.”
    â€œNot yet. I’m Anshon. Tell me your name, shawtie.”
    â€œWell, it ain’t shawtie.”
    Anshon laughed, “Yo, why you trippin’?”
    â€œA’ight. I’ma stop buggin’. My name is Monica.”
    â€œHow you doin’, Monica? Fine, I’m sure.”
    â€œBoy, please.”
    Anshon laughed. “Would you like something to drink?”
    â€œYeah. I want a Red Bull.”
    When she said that, it reminded him of Doughnut being left at the bar with Lexie and her new man.
    Where did that nigga go? Anshon thought while he ordered Monica’s drink.
    As soon as Monica took her drink into her hand, gunshots started to pop. Anshon grabbed Monica and took cover. Everybody in the club hit the floor.
    â€œEverybody put they ma’fuckin’ hands up!” When Anshon looked up, he saw three men, dressed in all black with ski masks on and tommy guns in their hands.
    Oh, shit, Anshon thought. These niggas ain’t playin’. They really holdin’ us up!
    Just then, he heard a hissing sound. When he turned in the direction of the sound, he saw Wallo crouched down in the corner.
    â€œEverybody stand up and shut up!” the men yelled, pointing their guns.
    Everyone stood up.
    â€œRun them fuckin’ pockets!” one of the other masked men yelled toward Anshon. From the sound of his voice, Anshon knew it was Tom-Tom.
    Damn, I shoulda killed this nigga , he thought.
    Tom-Tom looked Anshon in the face and leaned forward while running his pockets. “You should’ve killed me, nigga.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Anshon said, tight-lipped. “I will.”
    â€œWhat the fuck is going on?” one of the masked men yelled. “Get that nigga cash and be out!”
    Tom-Tom grabbed Anshon’s cash, which was only eight hundred dollars, and moved on. Everybody in the club had to empty their pockets. The men collected money, jewelry, and even some guns.
    As one of them walked by, Anshon got a good look at his shape, and he knew it was Doughnut. What the fuck?
    He looked toward Wallo. “That’s Doughnut,” he mouthed.
    Wallo didn’t answer him; instead, he nodded toward the masked men, who were walking backwards out the door. Doughnut was the last man to walk out.
    As Doughnut walked past Lexie, he grabbed her around the neck and pulled her with him. She started screaming. Von stood there paralyzed.
    As if things had been moving in slow