Retribution (3 page)

Again, not that I need it. But I
want
it. I deserve it. The jewels, the furs, the shopping sprees—all financed by him. Still, it all comes with a price to pay. Jasper's unpredictable mood swings. His paranoia. His jealousy. His abuse.

Am I scared of him?

There's no easy answer to that. Jasper's unstable. But the one thing I know is, this nigga's
in love—
okay,
obsessed
—with my pussy. And, yeah…Beating me almost to death for sucking dick—okay,
dicks
—is one thing, but putting me in a body bag isn't where he's at—not yet. And as long as I keep sucking and fucking him and stroking his fragile ego, I'm good for now.

Still…every time I feel this nigga looking at me, I feel as if he's staring right through me. His dark eyes are cold and cutting. I can tell the nigga's always thinking. Always trying to catch me slipping. So, because of that,
yes
, I'm afraid—very.

But not enough—as you can see—to stop what I'm doing. The knots in my stomach are a constant reminder that I married the devil, and he's been fucking me raw ever since.

Still, I play my position.

But one of these days, very soon, this nigga's got it coming to him. Every dirty thing he's ever done is going to come back to him. And I'm going to be the one he's looking at before his black ass gets dropped. I'm going to be the one who spits in his face when it happens. I promise you. Before his lights get shut, I'll be the last bitch he sees.

“I'm so fuckin' relieved you and the baby are aiight.…If I woulda lost you and my seed, I'da lost it for real, yo. We connected, baby.…For life.”

As hard as I've tried blocking everything out, I can't. His voice. The look in his eyes, the way the motherfucker smirked when he saw it in my own eyes. That I knew.

“…and if I find out you been playin' me, yo; that you had another nigga's dick up in you, I'ma beat the dog shit outta ya ass, you dig?”

It was him.

“I know what you're thinkin', baby…It's over wit', baby…all that shit you were doin'…I warned you, Pasha. I told you don't fuckin' play me, yo.”

They knew I was pregnant, because Jasper had told them. But I didn't know it then. I had no clue he was behind any of that sordid shit until I woke up in the hospital and he was there by my bedside—tears streaming from his eyes, concern painted on his weary face, pretending.

I mean, I knew he had a vicious streak.

Knew he could be violent.

Yet, to think he'd go to that extreme to do what he did, to be willing to pimp me out to a bunch of his niggas and let them disrespect me.

Let them take turns fucking my throat.

And smacking me around.

No. Jasper wouldn't ever have any of that shit done to me. Not the man I loved. Not the father of my child. I couldn't imagine it.

Then, again…I'm sure he didn't expect the woman he loved, the woman carrying his child, to be practically running a community dick-sucking center behind his back, either.

Anyway. I finally saw the truth in his eyes when he hovered over my hospital bed. Realization. That he was behind the attack. And, every since that awful night—the night I was kidnapped out in the parking garage of The Mall at Short Hills, nothing for me has ever been the same.

I warned you, Pasha. Told you don't fuckin' play me, yo.”

I bring my attention back to the idiot on the other end of the line. “What is it, Jasper?”

“What da fuck you mean, ‘what is it'? I asked you what da fuck
is you doin', yo? I'm talkin' to ya silly ass ‘n' you actin' like you iggin' a muhfucka.”

I sigh, glancing over my shoulder looking back into the suite. I want another round of dick from the man sleeping under the covers before I have to make the twenty-minute drive back to my condo in L.A.

I eye Mr. Thick-Seven-And-A-Half as he stirs. He rolls over onto his back, pulling back the white sheet. His dick springs upward. And my mouth instantly waters. He stretches his long legs out, then grabs his hard dick and strokes it. He sees me watching him.

I knew the first time I let him bust his creamy nut in my mouth and I swallowed him down to the last drop that I would keep sucking him. I knew sucking his thick chocolate dick would become my guiltiest pleasure. I just didn't think I would be fucking him, too. But here I am. In Santa Monica with my pussy sore from the pounding he put on me into the wee hours of the morning; his raw dick deep inside of me, fucking what's only on loan to him.

Later tonight, he'll be going back to his
wifey
and two children, playing the loving man and doting daddy. And, tomorrow, I'll be going back to Jasper's crazy ass.

“Actually, Jasper,” I finally say. “If you really wanna know. I
was
iggin' you. It's too early in the morning for this shit. I'm in Los Angeles, nigga. Where I've been for the last week, getting shit ready for the final phase of opening
my
new salon.”

“Yo, who da fuck is you snappin' at like that, huh?”

I blow out a frustrated breath. “You know what, Jasper? I'm sick of you always coming at me all crazy. Do me a favor. Why don't you go fuck one of your side bitches and leave me the fuck alone? I'll see you when I get home.”

“Bitch,
is you fuckin' serious, yo? Put my muthafuckin' son on the phone.”

“He's asleep. And I'm not waking him. If you want to talk to Jaylen, I'll call you back when he wakes up. Now goodbye.”

I end the call before he can say anything else. I slide back the glass door, then step in, leaving the door open as the ocean's breeze eases in. “You ready for some more of this pussy?” I untie my robe and let it slide off my shoulders.

He grins. “You already know the answer to that. Come over here and wet this dick, baby.”

A devious smile eases over my lips. “What you want, first, this throat or pussy?”

I crawl in between his legs. I stroke his dick with my hand, licking around his balls, the pungent scent of sweat and fucking still clinging to them. “Both,” he says as I slip the head of his dick into my mouth. My body shivers the minute the head of his dick hits the back of my throat. “Awwww, fuck yeah…Suck that dick, baby…”

The bitch you think has your back, is the same bitch who'll snake you…

8
A.M
., I'm heading north on I-10 toward L.A., relieved there is no traffic. Los Angeles's traffic is usually horrible no matter which highway you're on, or what time of the day it is. But, this morning, it's smooth sailing, probably because it's early on a Saturday morning. As bad as I wanted to stay wrapped up in Thick Seven's arms, I couldn't. He has shit to do. And so do I. Getting back to my son, that is.

Jaylen's been my saving grace. He's the reason I haven't lost my mind fucking around with Jasper. Even, after the kidnapping, I kept it together—for his sake. He needed me to be strong so that I could carry him to full-term. The doctors had said I was at high risk for delivering him months early due to the stress and trauma of what I had been through. My baby's life depended on me being strong. But it wasn't easy.

I had shed my tears, while never letting anyone else see me break. Not even Jasper's snake-ass. The nigga knew he had me shook. He had seen it in my eyes. But I'd be damn if he'd ever see me shed a tear over it. No, those tears were reserved for when he left the hospital at night.

I spent two weeks in the hospital. And the whole time I was laid
up in that bed with tubes and monitors all hooked up to me, I refused to talk to the police. Refused to give them any information surrounding what had happened to me. I refused visitors. I didn't want to see anyone. Or let anyone see me like
that
—all banged up and broken, all swollen and bruised. Not even my Nana, whom I love dearly. Not even Felecia who at the time I
loved
like a sister—up until I learned that that phony, two-faced bitch was talking shit about me behind my back. After all I've done for that bitch. And that's how she repays me. Kicking my back in, then smiling in my face.

My gut always told me to watch that bitch, which is probably why I never confided in her like I used to when we were growing up. Everyone always said when we were growing up that Felecia was jealous of me. But I didn't want to believe it. Felecia had the same opportunities as I did. We shared some of the same pains, and life's experiences.

My mother, Nivea Alona Rice—who gave me her first and middle names as my own middle name—loved the trappings of being a hood-rich trophy wife than she did for me. She gave birth to me. Then, three months later—after she met some big-time drug dealer who wanted to
wife
her up, she dropped me off on my father's doorstep and never looked back. Years later, she was found murdered in the trunk of her Porsche with two bullets to the head. I was twenty.

Felecia's mother had more love for drugs than she did for her. Cocaine was her first love, then later on, crack. Felecia didn't know her father. However, I knew mine. But he was more invested in the streets than he was in raising a daughter. Ralphie Allen, aka The Boogey Man, loved me. But he was a hood nigga with a vicious rep who loved the streets and shaking niggas up more.

As a result, we both lost our parents to the streets, and the drug game. My father—a drug dealer himself—was murdered when I was eleven. And Felecia's mother, my father's sister, died from a drug overdose a few years later.

Sadly, we were both orphans long before either of our parents ever hit the ground and the dirt got tossed on them. Luckily, we had a grandmother who loved us. She not only opened her home to us, she raised us as if we were her own.

So the thought of Felecia betraying me hurts. That bitch cut me deep. I never wanted to think my own blood would snake me the way she has. Didn't want to believe the shit Mona used to tell me. That she was jealous of me. Still, I couldn't put my finger on it. However, there was always something that didn't sit well with me when it came to Felecia. Maybe it was the way I'd often catch her cutting her eyes at me on the sly. Or how she always brought up Jasper's name. Or the way she'd be looking at him before he got locked up, then after he was released. Or how I would always catch her whispering with Stax anytime he came by the salon. Something wasn't right. But my love for that conniving bitch blinded me. I slept on her ass. And instead of distancing myself from her like I should have, I ignored the nagging feeling in the pit of my soul.

And that shit cost me.

The night I was attacked in front of my house—after being out sucking dick, she was the only person I had to call, but something deep inside of me told me not to. I should have listened. But I didn't. I wanted, needed, to trust her. But, now thinking back, that bitch sat up in my kitchen consoling me and judging me at the same time. That bitch is the one who probably told Jasper about my attack. He
claimed
it was my old neighbor, Clint. But I never believed it. From what I'd seen of him, Clint seemed to stay to
himself. He minded his own business. And, prior to the attack, he and I barely spoke when we'd see each other coming or leaving our homes. So, he'd have no reason to tell Jasper shit. Why would he? He and Jasper didn't know each other that I knew of. And he didn't know shit about me. That scheming-ass bitch, on the other hand, is a whole other story.

My cell rings bringing me out of my thoughts. I reach over into the passenger seat and fish it out of my bag, glancing at the screen. Speaking of that fucking bitch, it's her calling me now. I hit
IGNORE
.

I haven't spoken to her in almost two weeks. The day I reached over the receptionist's counter at the salon and tried to slap her face off, then told her to pack her shit and get the fuck out of my shop. She was fired.

Truth be told, I don't think I would have really fired Felecia had it not been for Booty, I mean Cassandra, coming down to the salon with her messy-ass putting Felecia on blast in front of everyone like she did. But she did. And I had to set that bitch straight and take it to her face. Then I told Booty, I mean Cassandra, that I thought it was best that she didn't bring her ass up in my shop again. She keeps too much shit going. I can tell I had hurt her feelings.
“Bitch, boom! You ain't said nothing but a word. I ain't ever gotta come back up in this trap.”

Sadly, drama or not, Cassandra has always been one of my most loyal customers. And I know in her crazy-ass head she was only trying to look out for me. But the drama with her is waaaaay too much for me. And the thing is, I really like Cassandra. She's probably as real as it gets. Sometimes, maybe a little too real, if that's even possible. Still, drama follows her wherever she goes. And, as far as I am concerned, her and Felecia going at in front of the clients was the last straw for me. The whole thing was unreal, but couldn't be overlooked.

“Oh, no, honey boo,” Cassandra said to Felecia in front of everyone. “The only one 'bout to get tossed is you. I've been waitin' to do you, any-goddamn-way. So how 'bout you be a real bitch and tell Pasha how you told me Jasper whoops her ass and she's scared of him, huh, bitch? How 'bout you let her know how you done fucked him, too.”

My eyes popped open in shock. Not that she had called Felecia out on it like that because she had already told me over the telephone a few weeks prior what Felecia had told her, so that was of no surprise to me. The shit that rattled my nerves was that she did it in front of all those nosey, gossiping-ass stylists of mine. She could have waited to confront Felecia when it was only the three of us around instead of in front of prying eyes. That shit was messy. But I knew her ass wasn't lying. Cassandra Simms might be called many things, but she's never been one for lying. If she says it happened, you can almost guarantee it did.