Retribution (6 page)

“I'll fuckin' kill you and my muthafuckin' seed you carryin', yo, if you even think about leavin' me…”

“It's over wit', baby…all that shit you was doin'…” he paused, let his words hover over me, then reached for my hand and kissed it. “The only way you gettin' away from me is in a body bag, Pasha; real shit.”

So what was I supposed to do?

I went down the aisle with this nigga, that's what
I
chose to do. Still said, “I do.” Yes, I already know. Only a crazy, sick bitch would go through with marrying a nigga like this. And what scares me the most is, I'm realizing that I'm no different from him. We're both fucked up. And,
maybe
…we deserve each other.
Maybe
staying with Jasper is my punishment for my own sins.

I spread my thighs, inviting the devil inside.

Good dick isn't always attached to a good nigga. A smart bitch knows the difference…

I
pull my pussy lips open for him. Jasper forces my legs open wider, presses his face into my crotch and sniffs. My pulse quickens. A knot forms in the back of my throat as he slides his middle finger into his mouth, then pushes it into my pussy.

I grunt, mindful to clench my pussy muscles.

His finger pumps in and out of me. Against my will a moan slips out. He's stirring my pussy. My mind is screaming one thing. But my body is crying out something else.

I shut my eyes. Try to imagine Thick Seven's fingers inside of me instead. “You mine, yo. This shit belongs to me.”

I feel the weight of his body shift as he goes down my body. His thick fingers digging into my hips as he buries his face between my thighs. His lips find my clit.

Oh, God, no! Mmmm…

I try to fight the sensation. But it is becoming too overwhelming. I spread my legs wider. In my head, I'm over this nigga. But my body…right at this very moment…has a mind of its own. It is still connected to him. Jasper's fingers light a slow building fire. My anger toward this nigga is the accelerant that causes wet flames to shoot through. “Aaah. Uhhhh…”

“This is my pretty pussy, yo,” Jasper says, breathlessly against my pussy lips as he licks them. I don't want this. Not from him. But the feeling…oh God…it's overpowering me, clouding my judgment. He parts my slick lips, licking the center of my pussy, then sucks on my clit.

Nasty motherfucker!

I hate this nigga!

I know this is about Jasper's need to feel as if he still has power over me. Truth is, he does; only because
I
let him. But not for long I keep reminding myself.

I let out another moan as he buries his face deeper, his tongue slinking further into my wetness. Inside, the fearless me is smirking, hoping Jasper can taste the lingering remnants of Thick Seven's nut. But the cautious me, prays he doesn't. I hold my breath, hoping he can't detect another nigga's scent on me—or in me, knowing all too well the feeling of his wrath if he does.

Still, I live on the edge.

Bitch, you keep playing with fire! Your ass is going to get burned!

I'm so fucked up in my head, in my thinking. Jasper's done this to me. Has me confused. I've done this to me. I hate him for making me feel like this. I hate myself for feeling like this. Torn and confused and angry and turned on.

I groan.

He continues exploring my pussy with his fingers and tongue, searching for what's been left on the sheets back in Santa Monica, and long rinsed out in L.A. There are no signs of my indiscretion still lingering.

He lifts my hips up, then places my legs over his broad shoulders, pressing the head of his swollen dick up against my slit. He grinds himself into me, his thick veiny dick sliding up and down between my lips, coating his shaft with pussy juices oozing out of me.

I moan.

Against my will, another wave of heat sweeps through me. I want him to hurry up and fuck me. I want him to fuck me fast and deep and hard and dirty so he can be done with it. I want him to fuck me like the dirty bitch he thinks I am. Like the dirty bitch I've been. Then I can wash him
and
my guilt off of me. But this nigga wants to take his slow sweet time. I remind him that he has company downstairs. Remind him of the running shower.

He grunts. “Yo, fuck them niggas. Fuck that water. Let the shit run, yo. You mine, Pasha. I tol' you, ain't shit changed. But you stay wantin' to be on ya bullshit. All you gotta do is act right, baby. And shit's gonna be aiight. All that slick shit you be poppin', it's deaded, yo.…”

Think what you want, nigga. Ain't shit over with!

“We gonna die in this shit, yo. So whatever lil beefs you got goin' on in ya pretty lil head, let that shit go, baby. It's you and me, ya heard?”

I blink.

He doesn't wait for me to say anything. There's not shit for me to say. He plunges his dick in me—deep, so very deep and hard. I gasp. Surprised at how wet I am.

“Yeah, this wet-ass pussy,” he says as he starts stroking my insides. “This good-ass pussy, yo.” He grunts, thrusting deeper inside of me. Before long, I'm grabbing his muscular ass, digging my nails in and pulling him further into me.

I can't lie. The dick is pounding into my wall of resistance.

I hate this nigga!

Hate this dick for being so damn good!

Oh, God, yes…

“Don't have me kill no one over this shit, yo.”

He stretches me with his thickness, knocks the bottom of my
pussy with his length. His nine-inch dick is so much bigger than Thick Seven's. It's not better, just bigger. And heavier.

Oooh…

Oh God!

Jasper rapidly pounds and grinds into me, then slows his pace, churning my insides with each stroke. This nigga has my head spinning, has my insides spurting juices, like an erupting volcano, violent and angry. I can pretend with everything else. But not this. My wet pussy defies what's in my heart. The lusty moans, bordering on growls, seeping out from the back of my throat, disregard what's in my head.

This is what I struggle with. This is what I fight to avoid. As long as I don't let him put his dick in me, I'm good. I'm focused. As long as I deny him this pussy, I can stick to the script. But the minute I let him in, allow him to force himself in, the second his dick pushes past my resistance, I'm done. I become weak all over again. The devil keeps fucking me over and over. And I keep bending over and letting him.

Because the dick is so good!

Ooooh, yes…uhhh…

I hate this fucking nigga!
I repeat in my head.
Hate this good-ass dick!

I want this shit over with.

I clutch his dick with my pussy, milk him, and start talking real nasty hoping it will speed things up. Talking a bunch of shit usually helps Jasper nut faster.

“Ohhh, God, yessss! Fuck my pussy, nigga…uhhh…Yeah, nigga…mmmph…oooh, yes…give it to me. Fuck me deep, daddy…”

“Yeah, yo…that's what the fuck I'm talkin' 'bout. Talk that nasty shit, yo…you like it when I beat them insides up, don't you? You love daddy's big dick. Yeah, give ya daddy that pussy…”

“Yesssss…ooooh, fuck me…mmmm…”

He quickly pulls out, flipping me over onto my stomach, then smacking my ass, causing it to jiggle and sting. My pussy starts to pop. “Get on your muthafuckin' knees, yo. You got this dick harder than a muhfucka, yo.”

There was a time I loved everything this nigga stood for. Loved his roughness. Loved his hood swag. Loved every thuggish, aggressive bone in his buffed, dark-chocolate body. So much has changed between us.

He's reckless.

I'm reckless.

He can't be trusted.

I can't be trusted.

I hate him for doing this to me.

I'm sure he hates me for doing the same to him.

We are both trapped in our own craziness.

For now, I remind myself.

I lift up on all fours, give the nigga what he wants as he manhandles me. He rams his dick in, yanking my head back. “Yeah, you like it when a muhfucka beats this shit, huh? You like this big-ass dick guttin' ya ass up, don't you, yo? Wet-ass, muthafuckin' pussy.” He slaps my ass.

I fight back a scream, bucking my ass back on his dick. I am coming. My orgasm fueled by hate and lust.

My pussy is clutching and milking his horny dick. “Aaaah, shit, yo…yeah fuck…I'm 'bout to spit this nut…uhh, yeah. Throw that hot-ass pussy up on this dick…fuckin' bitch…gotta muhfucka beggin' for this good shit…”

He slaps my ass again. Left cheek, then right cheek; each strike, louder and harder than the one before—his big hand heating my
ass, causes my pussy to get wetter. A moan is lodged in the back of my throat. I am pushing against the waves rising and splashing around inside of me. I am about to scream out, glancing over my shoulder. And then…

“Awww, shit, damn,” I hear in back of us. “My bad, yo.”

I jump, trying to cover myself while my ass is still up in the air. Jasper looks over toward the open door, seemingly unfazed, his dick still pounding away. It's Stax! And he's standing in the doorway. He shifts his stare from me to Jasper. The look in his eyes telling me he's seen more than he should have. Jasper doesn't jump. Doesn't even attempt to stop fucking me.

“Yo, what the fuck?! Don't you see me gettin' it in wit' my wife, yo? I'll be finished in a sec. Goddamn, muhfucka!”

“Yo, word is bond, fam. No disrespect. But we gotta situation on our hands that can't wait.” Stax glances over at me, then back at Jasper. Jasper sucks his teeth, pulling his wet, sticky dick out of me, then climbing out of the bed.

I quickly snatch the throw from off the bed and cover myself, trying to avoid Stax as he quickly shifts his eyes from me as I race for the bathroom. JT's another one of his cousins and dirty nigga on his team. I shut the door, pressing my ear up against it.

“Perfect timin', muhfucka,” I hear Jasper say. “I'm in here tryna get some pussy, nigga, ‘n' you come up in here ‘n' fuck that all up.”

“Yo, nigga, chill. You know I wouldn't be up in ya space wit' no bullshit, yo. Besides, muhfucka, you shoulda had the door closed. Buh, uh, check it. Something's popped off wit' Jaheem, yo. His wife been blowin' up my shit, stressin' like crazy. Said she ain't seen or heard from that nigga in almost a week, yo. And da nigga's voicemail is full.”

“Yo, what da fuck you mean sumthin' done popped off wit' JT? When's the last time you talked to that nigga?”

“Just what I said, fam. That nigga's missin', yo. I haven't talked to his ass since last Wednesday. You know how that nigga stay missin' in action, feel me?”

“Yeah, true. Muhfucka prolly somewhere knee-deep in some bitch; still that muhfucka usually answers his shit.”

“Yeah, true shit. But he ain't been answering his shit in like four days. And his wife can't track his shit 'cause he only fuck wit' them pre-paid joints.”

Mmmph. Jaheem and Jasper, although they're first cousins, can actually pass for brothers. Their resemblance, their body builds, is uncanny. I don't know who's worse, him or Jasper. They both cheat. They both lie. They both put their hands on their women. And they're both dirty motherfuckers caught up in the drug game.

“Shit, this nigga. I hope his dumb ass ain't caught up in no dumb shit, yo. I keep tellin' that muhfucka to stop fuckin' 'round wit' all these crazy-ass bitches.” I hear moving around the room. He's probably putting his clothes back on, I think. I frown at the thought of him stuffing his wet, sticky dick back into his boxers. There was a time when I would have eagerly sucked it clean for him.
Nasty nigga!

I quickly hop in the shower in case he decides to use the bathroom. Luckily, right on time too.

“Yo, Pash,” he calls out, swinging the bathroom door open. “I'm out, yo. I'll be back later tonight to finish bustin' that ass. Make sure you take ya ass to bed ‘n' get some rest 'cause you gonna need it, yo.”

I roll my eyes, turning my back to him.

Nigga, please!
Tonigh
t is the last night you run your dick up in me.

A two-faced bitch will never see the error of her ways 'til you knock her sockets out.

“G
ood morning, Nappy No More. Pasha speaking.” No one says anything. “Hello?” I glance at the caller ID. It comes up
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
“Hello? Nappy No More, how can I help you?”

There's still no response. I hang up, eyeing the crystal clock up on the wall. It's 8:01
A.M.
My first appointment is scheduled for 8:15. I flip through the schedule book and see that I'm booked back-to-back up until four o'clock. I smile when I see my ten o'clock is with my cousin Persia, an identical triplet. I haven't seen her or her sisters since my wedding over the summer. I've spoken to Paris a few times since she and I have always been the closest out of the three of them. And I ran into Porsha and her fiancé, Emerson, a few weeks ago at the mall. So it'll be nice to see Persia and get caught up with her.

Last I heard, through Felecia's gossiping ass, that she and her sisters had pretty much stopped sharing—or should I say,
fucking
—the same men. For awhile the three of them scandalous divas had been the talk of the family with their man-swapping shenanigans.

My ringing cell pulls me from my thoughts.
Shit,
I think, when I see that it's Mona calling.
I forgot to call her last night.
“Hey, girl.”

“Ummm, why didn't you call me yesterday? I told you to call me the minute you got back in town.” I apologize. Tell her I got in later than I planned. That I honestly got sidetracked with Jasper literally riding my ass and nerves from the time I stepped through the door. I let her know I'm down at the salon and that I have a break in between my appointments at one if she wants to talk then. “Okay, good. But we need to talk somewhere private.”