Deep Throat Diva

by Cairo

  Girl, get over yourself. He’s going to be home soon so you might as well get used to the idea of him coming in and out of here. Besides, bitch, his name is on the deed, too.

  I glance at the time, realizing I need to get off this phone so I can get showered, packed and to the airport. “Baby, I gotta hop in the shower. Call me later. Love you.”

  “Yeah, aiight,” he says, sounding annoyed. “I gotta bounce, anyway. But know this, I’ma be home in a minute. And it’s gonna be a wrap.”

  “Umm, what’s gonna be wrapped?”

  “You hoppin’ on planes ’n shit whenever you feel like it.”

  I laugh. “Whatever, Jasper. You like to hear yourself talk, baby.”

  “Yeah, aiight. Laugh if you want. But when I start shuttin’ shit down, don’t say I didn’t warn ya ass. Go on and have ya little fun, baby. Daddy’s gonna be home in a minute.” Before I can open my mouth to say something slick, he disconnects. Of course I don’t put any energy into it since I’m pressed for time. I hop in the shower, throw a few items into my Louis carry-on, then take it downstairs and set it by the door. I go back upstairs, lotion my body up, then slip into a cute brown Emilio Pucci Jersey wrap dress. I walk into my shoe closet, pulling down boxes of designer shoes until I find the right pair to set off my outfit. I decide on a red pair of six-inch Gucci stilettos. I give myself the once-over in my full-length mirror, admiring myself. I put on a pair of brown Versace shades. Despite my swollen eye and the bruise on the side of my face, I’m still looking good. But—this time, am I scared? Hell, motherfucking yeah!

  If that motherfucker was crazy enough to hide out in bushes for me, he’s crazy enough to come back. And next time, most likely try to kill me. So, hell fucking yeah, I’m scared—shitless!

  Between you and me, I’m glad to be getting out of town for a few days. The change of scenery will do me some good. Hopefully, help me clear my head. The last time I was out to in LA was almost two years ago for a hair and fashion show. I smile at the idea of being out in Tinseltown to shop and chill for a bit. Oh, and look for a wedding dress.

  Once I get to Newark Airport, I park in short-term parking, then hop the shuttle to Terminal A. I text Felecia to let her know where I am, and she texts back, telling me she just got dropped off and will meet me outside the door for Continental. We get our tickets, go through security, then make it to the gate and board without any problems.

  “What did you tell Jasper when you told him you were going to LA?” she asks, snapping her seatbelt in.

  “I told him we were going to look at wedding dresses. And we are.”

  She looks at my bruised face. “Well, let’s hope your face is healed by the time we have to come back.”

  “Well, if it’s not,” I say, cutting my eye at her, “you can come back without me. I’ll stay a few extra days.”

  “And tell Jasper what?”

  “That I decided to look at some commercial property while I was out there looking for my dress. Bottom line, I’m not coming back to Jersey until my face is back to normal. The last thing I need is Jasper asking me a bunch of questions.” She opens her mouth to say something. I put my hand up, stopping her. “Don’t. He’s not to hear a word about any of this.”

  “Alright already. Geesh. Trust me. He won’t hear it from me.”

  I take a deep breath, placing my head back on the headrest. “Good. Now let’s enjoy our flight.”

  “Jasper, baby?” I call out, walking through the door, dropping my bags in the middle of the foyer. Jasper’s Timbs are beside the sofa. When he doesn’t respond, I think he’s upstairs laying in bed with a hard dick in his hand, waiting on me to pounce on it. I start stripping off my clothes, going up the stairs to be fucked down by my man. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I am only in my panties. I walk into the bedroom, look over at the bed. It is empty; still made. I look into the bathroom. Empty. I walk back downstairs. “Jasper, baby, where are you here?” Walk into the kitchen. Empty. Head downstairs to the basement. “Jasper?” He’s sitting on the sofa with his white-socked feet propped up on the table. “Jasper, baby, what are you doing down here?” Silence. He doesn’t turn to look at me; doesn’t acknowledge my presence. He stares straight ahead. “Jasper?” I call out to him, walking over to him. “What’s wrong?” I sit beside him. Reach out to touch him.

  He glares at me, smacking my hand out of the way. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me, yo?”

  I blink, blink again. Shocked at what he says to me, at him knocking my arm out of the way. “Excuse me? What in the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “What the fuck’s been goin’ on around here, yo? Who’s this muthafucka who attacked you in the yard?” Before I can play stupid and ask him what he’s talking about, he tells me that my nosey-ass neighbor saw him outside as he was coming in and asked him if I ever called the police; if they ever found the nigga who attacked me. Tells him how he had to fight the nigga off of me and tried to chase him down, but he had gotten away. Jasper tells me he played it off like he already knew about the shit and told him no; that the police were still looking for the nigga.

  My chest tightens and I feel myself getting dizzy as the color drains from my face. Alicia getting her ass beat in my shop immediately flashes through mind. I’ve seen Jasper heated many times, but I’ve never seen him in that I’m-about-to-black-the-fuck-out mode until now. And it’s scaring me. I stand, shocked and at a loss for words.

  “I-I-uh…”

  “Yo, don’t come at me wit’ all that fuckin’ stutterin’ bullshit, yo. I wanna know who the fuck put his muthafuckin’ hands on you and why the fuck you ain’t tell me about the shit?”

  I scoot back from him, slowly stand up. “Jasper, just calm down for a minute, baby—”

  He jumps up from his seat, and yanks me be the arm. “Don’t fuckin’ ’baby’ me, yo. I wanna know what the fuck’s been goin’ on, yo. So you better start talkin’ now before I break ya goddamn jaw, yo.”

  His grip on my arm is so tight it feels like he’s about to rip it out of its socket. “Owwww, Jasper, you’re hurting me.”

  “Bitch!” he shouts in my face. “I don’t give a fuck about hurting you. You cheating on me, yo?”

  “No!” I shout back, hurt and shocked that he has called me out of my name. In all the years we’ve been together, he has never, ever, called me a bitch. As deserving as it might be, it cuts through me. Tears well up in my eyes.

  “Then who the fuck is that nigga?”

  “I don’t know.” And on cue, the waterworks begin and I start fast-talking as if my life depended on it. Shit, it does! “I swear to you, Jasper, I don’t know who he was or what he looked like. He had on a black mask. I was putting my key in the door and out of nowhere he jumped out of the bushes and grabbed me. He was trying to get me into the house, but I threw the house keys so he couldn’t. I started…yelling and screaming and fighting him. But he was too strong. He-he beat me, Jasper,” I sob uncontrollably. He loosens his grip. The fire in his eyes slowly starts to extinguish.

  “I wanted to tell you, Jasper. But I was scared. I know you. And I know you woulda tried to track him down. I didn’t want you getting caught up in anything. I just want you home. I’m tired of being here by myself.” He lets go of my arm. I grab it, rubbing the spot where his hand was. “If Clint didn’t come home when he did, I don’t know what woulda happened to me.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  I nod. “Yes,” I lie, knowing if I tell him I hadn’t he would want to know why not. And there’s no answer I could give him that would make sense. “But they haven’t found him, yet. He wore gloves so there are no fingerprints anywhere.”

  “Is this the same muhfucka who smashed out the shop’s window?”

  ”I don’t know. I don’t think so. One of the clients said he was a shorter, stocky dude. This one was over six feet, and built more like a basketball player.”

  “This shit ain’t makin’ no muthafuckin’ sense. All of a sudden you got mu
hfuckas smashin’ in windows and tryna snatch you up ’n shit.”

  “I think it’s two separate situations; completely unrelated. Niggas wilding out doing dumb shit, that’s all. You know these niggas are crazy now.”

  “Well, if you know that, then where the fuck was you comin’ from at one in the goddam mornin’, yo?” I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts in, narrowing his eyes at me. “Before you open ya muthafuckin’ mouth to say some dumb shit, yo, you better think about what the fuck you gonna say ’cause I’ma fuck you up if you don’t.”

  “I had cramps really bad and had to go out to the store to pick up a bottle of Excedrin and some tampons ’cause I was all out.” The way he’s looking at me I can tell he’s trying to figure out if he should believe the lies that have fallen out of my mouth or not. My tears continue to fall rapidly and unchecked. They’re more real now than they were earlier. Fear and guilt fuel them. “Jasper, have I ever given you reason to doubt anything I’ve said to you? Have I ever played you?”

  He narrows his eyes again. His jaw relaxes. “Nah, yo.”

  “Then why would I start now? We have too much invested for me to go there with you.”

  “That don’t mean shit, yo. There’s a first time for e’erything.”

  “I have done nothing but love you, Jasper. I’m not trying to lose what we have, baby.”

  “And you don’t know who that nigga was?”

  “No, I already told you that.”

  “I know what the fuck you told me,” he snaps. “And I’m asking you again. Did you know the nigga?”

  I shake my head. “No, Jasper, I don’t know who he is.”

  “Have you been fuckin’?”

  “No, Jasper. I told you. This pussy is yours, and only yours. Always has been, always will be.”

  “It better be, Pasha. I don’t want no other muhfucka puttin’ his hands on you. If I find out who that nigga is I’ma snap his mutha-fuckin’ neck, word up. 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?”

  I nod my head, wiping my face with both of my hands. He cuts his eyes down at my hard nipples. I know better than anyone how easily I turn him on; even when he’s pissed off. As nervous and scared as he has me right now, there’s one thing I know for certain, Jasper loves me, but he loves this tight, wet pussy even more. And if I wasn’t sure before, I am now. This nigga means every word he says.

  He pulls his shirt off, unbuckles his jeans, then steps out of them. His angry dick is already getting hard. He grabs at it, stretches it out. “Take them fuckin’ drawers off, yo. And bend over.” I don’t ask questions, don’t blink; just do as I am told.

  I walk over to the edge of the sofa, then lean over the arm of it. Jasper walks up behind me. I flinch glancing over my shoulder, hoping he’s not going to beat me upside the head while he’s fucking me. I can’t front. This nigga has me shook right now. I close my eyes, relieved when he gets down on his knees, pulls open my ass and eats my pussy from the back, getting me slippery and wet. With each tongue stroke I become more relaxed. I let out soft moans, winding my hips to match his rhythm. He squeezes my ass with both his hands, jiggles it, slaps it, then stands up and straddles me from behind, pushing his dick deep in me. He stretches me. Lets my muscles grab his cock. Then violently rams himself deeper into me. I dig my nails into the leather. Bite down on the arm. Try to hold back screams. His aggressive thrusts make it very clear that he intends to fuck the shit out of me.

  “Uhhh, uhhhhh…oooooh…” He pounds the inside of my walls with one powerful thrust after another, hitting my spot. My stomach tightens with each rapid stroke. “Aaaaaaah…oooooohhhhhh…”

  He slaps my ass, hard; makes it sting and burn. He slaps it again. He grunts, groans, slams his hips into my ass, causing my whole body to jerk forward. Sweat drips off his body onto my back. “I love the fuck outta you, Pasha…”

  “Uhhh, aaaah…uhhh…oooh…I love…you…too…”

  “This pussy’s so good,” he grunts, pounding his dick into me like a runaway train. “I’m warning you. Don’t…”—he slams his dick in, pulls out—“make…”—slams it back in—“me…kill…”—pulls his dick out, slams it back in—“you…”

  I let out a loud scream as one nut after another erupts and coats his cock. He is fucking me mercilessly. I look over my shoulder. Plead with my eyes for him to keep beating my walls. To fuck me, hard; fuck me, deep. He grabs me by the shoulders, forcefully pulls me back into him and beats my pussy until it screams. Two minutes later, Jasper’s grunting and groaning and moaning, dumping a load of anger and doubt deep inside of me.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Two months later, there is no more mention about the nigga who attacked me. There are no harassing phone calls to the salon. No mail; nothing. It’s like the nigga just vanished. Still, I am too leery to become overly excited. Until he’s picked up or bodied, and I know he’s off the streets; that he’s behind bars or buried, nothing is over. Nevertheless, I am thankful for the peace, no matter how short-lived it may be.

  Jasper is home from the halfway house. I am still surprised at how fast he made it home. Only thing, he’s been released on parole for the next year. Of course he hates the shit. And bitches about it every chance he gets. “These cracker muhfuckas are always lookin’ for ways to keep a nigga down. They wanna see a muhfucka fail wit’ all this dumb shit they got me doin’?”

  “Like what?” I asked him the last time he complained.

  “Like this fuckin’ curfew, yo. What the fuck I look like bein’ in the muthafuckin’ house at nine o’clock? I’ma grown-ass man, yo. This nigga talkin’ ’bout if I’m one minute late he’s gonna violate me. What kinda shit is that? Shit, I coulda took my ass on ISP if I wanted to have a muhfucka breathin’ down my back e’ery fuckin’ day. That muhfucka needs some pussy in his life, yo. Maybe then, the nigga wouldn’t have so much free time ridin’ my nuts ’n shit.”

  I am always so tempted to remind him that he got himself caught up in this shit so stop fucking complaining about shit he can’t control. Instead I keep my mouth shut. Let him vent. “A muhfucka can’t even get his drink or smoke on fuckin’ wit’ these crooked-ass muhfuckas.”

  I had to smile, shaking my head. I realized it wasn’t the fact that he was on parole that was his issue. He was pissed that he didn’t have his parole officer in his back pocket, like he’s had everyone else his whole bid; from CO’s to counselors.

  Anyway, aside from his “detailing job” five days a week and checking in weekly with his parole officer, Jasper’s been pretty much hanging around the house. And for the most part, it’s fine ’cause I’m down at the salon the majority of the day. The weekends haven’t been so bad. Most times he’s out with Stax doin’ whatever they do. Or he has everyone chilling here. The only problem: I can’t get away with shit. If I sneeze wrong, he’s on it. This fool watches me like a damn hawk. He won’t let me out of his sight. And when he does, he’s calling every ten to fifteen minutes checking on me. Even when we’re in bed, I can feel him watching me. A few times I woke up with him standing over me watching me sleep. Ever since he found out about that incident with that nigga, he’s become excessively possessive and protective over me. It’s not all the time. Mostly when something snaps in his brain and has him thinking crazy shit, like I’m out doing some sneaky shit, which I’m not. Hell, I’m too damn paranoid to.

  “Yo, wake ya sexy ass up,” he says, shaking me. I don’t budge. “Pasha? Get ya ass up, yo.”

  I groan, stretching. “Fifteen more minutes.”

  “Don’t you have to go into the salon today?”

  “No,” I mumble. He asks why not. I tell him, “I have a doctor’s appointment this morning.” He wants to know what kind of appointment. “For a checkup.” I decide this nigga isn’t going to let me get any sleep so I might as well get up. I pull the covers back and get out of bed.

  “What kinda check-up?”

  �
��I have a GYN appointment,” I tell him, bending over to look in one of the bottom drawers for my pink camisole. He gets out of bed and walks up behind me, pressing his nude body into mine. He grinds his dick into me. I straighten my body, sucking my teeth. “Will you quit it, nasty?”

  “What you need a GYN appointment for?”

  “To make sure shit’s right,” I tell him. But the truth is I think I might be pregnant. I took a home pregnancy test last month, and it came back negative. Then I took another one two weeks ago, and that one was positive. I’ve been feeling feel strange lately. Hard to describe it, like something is fluttering in my stomach. So I decided to make an appointment.

  “Yo, the only pussy checker you need is me. As long as that shit stays tight, it’s right.”

  “Whatever,” I snap, rolling my eyes. “You get on my fucking nerves with that stupid shit.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, you know what it is.”

  “Yeah, what I know is your black ass ain’t getting any more of this pussy, so laugh at that.” I turn on the balls of my feet and head into the bathroom, popping my hips; pissed the hell off that he still makes snide remarks; subtle comments about me cheating. And I’m not. Okay, I was. But that’s beside the point. I’m not now, and that’s what matters. I know what you’re going to ask. Nooooo, I haven’t shut down my NastyFreaks4u page, yet. I haven’t had time to. And I haven’t logged into my Deep Throat Diva email account either. So, that should say something. Jasper follows behind me.

  “Say, what?”

  “You heard me,” I say, turning on the water to brush my teeth. I place my toothbrush under the water, then squeeze out a glob of Crest. I brush my teeth. Then spit and rinse.

  “You buggin’ for real now. You know damn well I’m gettin’ up in that ass, so you need to cancel that dumb shit you talkin’, ya heard?”