Free All Hail the Queen by Meesha Mink Page A

in wonder.
    â€œYou ain’t new to this,” she said cockily, straddling his hips as she stroked the back of his head with one hand and his dick with the other.
    Tank’s sexy eyes were on her face. “You a bad bitch, Na,” he said, before dipping his head to suck her nipple through the lace as she rose up on her toes to pull her thong to the side and lower her pussy down onto his dick.
    â€œYou best believe it,” she told him as she pressed her feet against the wall on either side of him and leaned back to circle her hips and then glide them back and forth as she straight took care of the dick.
    â€œFuck,” he swore, looking down at her breasts and her hard nipples pressed against the black lace as she rode him. He looked down at his dick wet with her juices as it disappeared and reappeared with each of her strokes. “Who pussy?”
    â€œWhat it say?” she asked him thickly before letting her head fall back as she reached up to tease her nipples as he supported her with his hands gripping her hips.
    He looked down at his name tattooed across the plump bald mound. The sight of it made his dick even harder.
    Naeema moaned at the slight change.
    They weren’t new to it at all and neither gave a fuck if they were putting on a hell of a show for anyone. In that moment it was all about them and nothing else mattered. Seriously.

    Naeema glanced down at her watch as she stood among the crowd outside the movie theater in anticipation of the red carpet arrivals of all the celebrities attending the premiere. She wished like crazy that she wore something besides the gray cotton spandex jumpsuit she wore from Lucki Charmz. She loved the outfit she bought from one of her favorite online retailers but having strangers brush up against her bare back was really pissing her off. August heat was warm even at night and being pressed between hundreds of sweaty bodies wasn’t helping a damn.
    â€œCome on, Tank,” she said, tired of listening to Fevah’s newest song “The Hottest” blaring around them on an annoying-ass loop. Between that and trying to block out a group of females running their mouths nonstop she was about to go crazy.
    â€œI’m the hottest chick in the game . . .”
    Naeema rolled her eyes.
    â€œIs that Fevah?”
    â€œWho the fuck is that?”
    â€œHow you late to your own shit?”
    She could take the endless questions of the women over one of them giving a detailed, tongue-smackingretelling of catching her man, Laranz, getting blown by her cousin.
    â€œI’m the hottest chick in the game . . .”
    With another roll of her eyes she checked her watch again. She had the tickets to enter the premiere in her fake Louis Vuitton bag, but once she arrived via the car service Tank hired for her she remained outside with the rest of the onlookers because she wanted to see Fevah’s arrival more than she wanted to see her movie.
    And she really could care less about the Brooklyn-born rapper that was taking hip-hop by storm. She wanted to make sure the cute girl with the waist-length weave and plastic surgery—created body wasn’t feeling her man. She wanted to lay eyes on them and see their interaction for herself. Fuck that movie.
    She glanced over at the paparazzi and the TV cameras lining the red carpet as A-list to C-list stars posed for pictures or to answer questions fired at them by entertainment reporters.
    The crowd began to stir and Naeema saw a lot of the reporters and paparazzi turn to look down the length of the red carpet. She turned to the left just as Tank’s all-black Tahoe came up the street and pulled to a stop at the beginning of the red carpet.
    Naeema blocked out the crowd’s rising murmur as they wondered if it was finally the arrival of their beloved Fevah. She bit her lip and rose on the black wedge sandals she wore as Yani climbed from the passenger seat and Tank came around the