Ruthless (10 page)

I don't know if it's his big dick and the way he used it—precise and purposeful, with smooth even strokes, deep and long-lasting—that made it so good. Or if it's the fact that I fucked him, knowing how close the two of them are—or
were
.

A sly grin slides over my lips as I lie here in the comforts of my luxurious bed, replaying our night over in my head. The entire evening is etched in my memory. And I'm sure it's stamped in his head as well.

Stax, you should have kept your horse dick in your pants.
Little does he know, he'll be back for more! They always want more. And when he does, I'll be waiting with my mouth wide open, wet and ready to give him what he'll never be able to forget. This deep throat.

I smile, replaying more of my night.

“Fuck, Pash,” he had said as his hand traced over my body as he spooned in back of me. His touch was gentle. His fingers floated, feathery and soft over my hip, around my waist, over my nipple, then between my thighs, where he searched for my clit. He pinched it. I gasped.

“I can see why you have Jasp goin' through it,” he said low in my ear.

I craned my neck, glancing at him, a scowl plastered on my face. “Why you say that?”

“Because you're addictive, Pash. Real shit,” he replied, lifting my leg up and in one swift motion, pushing his hard dick,
all
of it, into the slit of my pussy. “And dangerous as hell.”

I moaned, arching my back and pumping my ass into his pelvis while reaching around and grabbing him by his hip, pulling him
in, urging him to go deeper, to bury himself—along with our dirty deed, as far into my pussy as humanly possible. “This pussy's good, Pash. You'll fuck around and have a nigga ready to snap.”

My very last thought before getting lost in the thrusts of his pounding dick and giving into the sweet burn churning my pussy inside out was:

Oh, you have no idea what I'm now capable of! You haven't seen shit, yet…

Sometimes you have to give a little to get a lot…

“Good morning, Nappy No More. This is Pasha. How can I help you?”

“Yo, so is this how you really fuckin' doin' it, Pasha, huh? You really tryna drag a muhfucka into court for a restrainin' order over some fuckin' bullshit, right?”

I glance at the caller ID, shaking my head. This nigga is calling me from an unfamiliar number. I pull in my bottom lip; bite down on it to keep from screaming on his ass. Yes, I can hang up on him. But I won't, not yet.

“I'm not dragging you anywhere, Jasper. You do know you
don't
have to show up if you don't want to, right? Either way, I'm getting that final order against you.”

He huffs. “Fuck outta here, yo. Why is you doin' all this bullshit, huh?”

I sigh. “Jasper, I'm not doing this with you today. We've already been through this. So, moving on. Did Stax tell you what I said?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So are you calling to give me those names or what?”

He sucks his teeth, blowing a frustrated breath into the phone. He remains uncharacteristically calm, too calm. “Nah, I ain't callin' you wit' no shit like that. Them niggas ain't got shit to do wit' what's poppin' off wit' me ‘n' you right now. This shit's between us.”

“Oh, really?” I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Mighty funny they had
everything
to do with me cheating on you and
you
feeling the need to drag them into it to
teach
me a lesson. Tell me how that works, Jasper? It was okay for you to hire niggas to kidnap me, then rally up your niggas to
sexually
assault me, right? But, now all of a sudden, they don't have shit to do with anything.” I
tsk
. “Jasper, get over yourself.”

“Yo, I ain't tryna hear all that. Where's my son at?”

“Give me those names, Jasper. I'm serious.”

“Pasha. You heard what the fuck I said, right? Dead that shit. Now—”

I cut him off. “Nigga, you must be friends with that bitch, Molly. I'm not
dead
ing shit. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Either way, make no mistake, Jasper. I
will
find out who they are. And one by one, all of them grimy motherfuckers are going to catch it. So you better let 'em all know I'm coming for 'em.”

“Yeah, aiight, Pasha. Whatever you say, yo. Talk that talk. So you gotta lil' heart now. Good for you. But, I'm tellin' you, yo. You ain't ready for this shit you tryna start.”

“Jasper, you don't know what I'm ready for. Or what I'm capable of…”

He laughs. “Yeah, right, right. I didn't think ya ass was capable of bein' a cock ‘n' cum-slut, but you fooled me there. So, yeah, you right. I don't. All I know is, you better fall back, real quick 'cause you really pushin' ya muthafuckin' luck.”

“Laugh if you want, nigga. And think what you want. I want those names.”

“Look, I'm tellin' you, yo. Leave that shit alone.”

“Or
what
, Jasper?”

“Yo, whatever, man. You heard what the fuck I said. Don't keep pressin' me, yo. Now where is my son? I wanna see him.”

“Oh, well. Not today you won't. Not
ever
if I can help it. Nigga, you think I'm going to let you
anywhere
near
my
son after you had niggas roll up on me last week, shooting at me? Nigga, please! Or did you forget that?”

“Yo, fuck outta here wit' that. You can't keep me from my son. I already tol' you what it was. If I wanted to have them niggas really get at you, Pasha, they woulda handled ya stupid ass. You'd be in a box. Not on this muthafuckin' line poppin' shit.”

“Whatever, Jasper. I'll be stupid all day long. But I'm done with being your fool. I gave you an opportunity to see Jaylen down at the police station
before
you tried to shoot me up. But you didn't want that. Now the only way you're going to
ever
see him is through a court order. So I guess you should have had me
boxed
when you had the chance.”

In my mind's eye, I can see him pacing the floor, fist clenched, wild and crazed. Muscles in his jaws tightening.
Ten, nine, eight…
count in my head how long before it takes for him to snap.
Seven, six…

“Yo, Pasha, real shit. Keep talkin' slick, aiight? And I'ma knock ya muthafuckin' sockets in, ya heard? So you better shut the fuck up wit' that dumb shit, aiight? I ain't tryna come at ya fuckin' neck, yo. But you fuckin' really pushin' it, yo. What the fuck I look like seein' my seed down at some muthafuckin' pig spot, huh? Is you fuckin' crazy, yo. You tryna come at me like I'd really do somethin' to hurt my own seed, yo. Fuck outta here wit' that dizzy shit.

“Like the fuck I said, if I wanna have muhfuckas get at ya dumb ass, yo, you'd be got; straight up. Is that what the fuck you want, huh? For me to shut ya muthafuckin' lights, yo? Keep on fuckin' poppin' shit, ‘n' ya ass gonna end up boxed, Pasha. Ya heard? Restrainin' order or not, I don't give a fuck! I'm warnin' ya muthafuckin' ass, yo. Keep fuckin' wit' me, Pasha, aiight? And I'ma fuck
you up.

“I hit you up, tryna come at ya silly ass like a man, askin' you fuckin' nicely to let me see my muthafuckin' son ‘n' you tryna be on some ole spiteful bitch shit. Aiight, damn, Pasha. I get it. You done wit' me. I got it. We done. Fuck it. It's over. Cool. But, fuck, yo, why is you tryna make shit fuckin' difficult, huh? Let me get my muthafuckin' paper, let me see my son ‘n' me ‘n' you dead this shit.”

“Why am
I
trying to make shit
difficult?
!” I shriek in disbelief. “Are you
fucking
kidding me right now? Tell me how have
I
made anything
difficult
, Jasper? Tell me.”

“Yo, c'mon. Don't play fuckin' dumb, yo. All this bullshit is poppin' off 'cause of ya dumb ass. Nobody tol' ya muthafuckin' ass to be on some slick shit out there suckin' a buncha random niggas' dicks ‘n' shit.
You
fucked us up, yo. Cock-suckin' bitch!
You
fucked us over.
You
fucked up what we had, yo. All because you couldn't stay the fuck up off ya muthafuckin' knees ‘n' wait for a muhfucka to hit the bricks. Stupid bitch! All this muthafuckin' dick you had right here ‘n' you wanna be on some whore shit.

“Now ya fuckin' ass got me all hemmed up wit'a muthafuckin' restrainin' order. Got me outta my own muthafuckin' crib. Then I asked you to let me get back up in the muhfucka so I can get the rest of my shit ‘n' you wanna be on ya bullshit about that. I tol' ya ass to run me my muthafuckin' paper ‘n' you still playin' fuckin' games. You stay…”

“Nigga, and I told
you
that if you wanted your money to give me those names and you can have every fucking dime of it. But you have yet to do that. So until you decide to get your fucking mind right and give me what the fuck I want, you're
not
getting shit. And I mean that. So do
what
ever you feel you need to do. But know
this
, nigga:
any
thing you try to do to me, I'm going to have done to
you
. You might have niggas watching me. But guess what, nigga? I got 'em watching you, too. Now
fuck
with me if you want, Jasper. And see what happens next.”

I take a deep breath, then calmly, slowly, say, “Jasper, understand this. You are on borrowed time. The
only
reason I haven't had
you
boxed is because I want
you
to watch how the niggas you had disrespect me start to drop. I want you to see
every
thing around you go up in flames. Then Jasper…
I'm
going to see to it that
your
lights get shut. And when you
finally
come to, I'm going to be the bitch standing over you.
Every
thing you've done to me, I'm going to do to you. So get ready to suck a dick, nigga!”

I slam the phone down in his ear. “Fucking bastard!” I hiss, pressing the palm of my hand into my forehead, trying to push back a banging headache. I take several deep breaths.
I can't stand
his ass! I don't know why I let that nigga still get under my fucking skin.

Because a part of you still loves him. Admit it.

I fucking hate him!

Bitch, please. Keep living that lie if you want. The truth is, you don't hate him. You hate what he's done to you. That nigga still has your heart.

The only thing Jasper has is my fucking contempt.

Lies, bitch! You still love him.

Bitch, shut the fuck up! Whatever ounce of love I might have had for
Jasper disintegrated the moment he had me shot at! So, no, bitch. I don't still love him. I hate every-fucking-thing that nigga stands for.

I want his ass…dead!

The ringing sound of my cell phone snaps me out of the one-sided conversation in my head. I pull it from my waistcoat pocket, glancing at the screen.
Finally! Please let this nigga have my shit.
“Hello.”

“I got that information you needed. When you wanna come get it?”

I flip through the appointment book. I'm booked solid from noon up until seven o'clock tonight. “Can we meet after seven?”

“Can't do tonight. I have to meet the wife in the city at six. Tomorrow night's good, though.”

I roll my eyes. “Where would you like to meet?”

“Here, at my office. Everyone else will already be gone. So it'll be just you and me. We still good, right? Quid pro quo?”

I smirk. “A deal's a deal,
right?
You give me what I want. And I give
you
what you want.”

“That's what I wanna hear,” he says excitedly. “Let me give you the address.” I grab a pen and take down the information, then tell him I'll see him tomorrow night. “I'm looking forward to it. I have a two-day load I can't wait to share with you.”

“Then I guess we'll both walk away with very happy endings.”

I end the call just as Mel walks through the door, dressed in a pair of black jeans and black short-sleeved T-shirt with the word:
SECURITY
stretched across his chiseled chest in big white letters. He shuts the door behind him, his backpack dropping off his shoulder. “What's good, Pasha? How you?”

I smile. “Hey, Mel. I'm good.”

“Cool-cool.” He eyes me. And for a split-second I think I see something dancing in his gaze at me. Lust maybe. Perhaps a secret that only he knows. I dismiss the craziness of it, turning my back on him as I mindlessly shuffle through the appointment book. “So, e'erything's good around here?”

I nod. “Yup. So far, so good.” He wants to know what time I arrived at the salon this morning. I tell him seven-thirty. He grunts. I turn to face him, feigning ignorance. “What?”

He shakes his head. “C'mon, Pasha. Didn't we talk about this
last night? You already know what it is. The deal is: when you pull up, I pull up. When you step through this door, I step through this door. Wherever you go, I go. Or if not me, Lamar goes or someone else on security detail. We can't keep you safe, Pasha, if you're going to keep moving like e'ertything's good.”

I put my hands up in mock surrender. “I know, I know. Guilty as charged. You're right.” I sigh defeat. Then bat my lashes. “I'll do better.”

And I'd love to see what's hidden behind the zipper of those jeans, just a little peek to ease the curiosity, big daddy.