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EXCERPT
Chapter One
All
hell is about to break loose.
Jonah uses his key to blow through the apartment like the Tasmanian
Devil, throwing shit everywhere and overturning furniture. We meet
eye-to-eye. The coldness in his eyes sends chills up and down my
spine. “What happened to you last night, girl?” he spews in a
southern drawl, enunciating every word. He lowers his head while his
eyeballs roll up toward his brow. A satanic smile spreads across his
full lips. This bastard looks like the one who flew over the
cuckoo’s nest. Like a vulture, he starts encircling me, sizing up
his prey.
“I was unavailable,” I stutter, biting down on my bottom lip,
causing a tear. I lick my lips nervously, tasting the fresh, salty
blood.
His expression holds a note of mockery. “Yeah, I gathered that
much.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I plea, backing myself against
the wall, fear and anger knotting my insides.
His tall figure stiffens. “You damn right it won’t happen again,” he
snarls, temper flaring.
Jonah’s temper, when crossed, could be almost uncontrollable. Fear
of my fate weakens my body. Like a rag doll, he grabs me by the
throat and slams my head against the wall. A sharp pain shoots from
the back of my head to the front, bringing on a serious migraine.
“The next time you miss an appointment, girl, I will put my foot up
that pretty lil’ ass of yours,” he bellows, leaning in close. His
liquor-drenched breath blows like the Sahara across my cheek. “You
hear me?” he barks, ready to attack my jugular. The stench coming
from the bowels of his stomach is foul and making my stomach gurgle.
“Yeah, I got it.” I gulp hard as the hot tears flow down my cheeks.
Jonah releases his grip, takes a step backward and lightly fingers a
loose tendril of hair away from my brow. The toothpick dangling from
his bottom lip is held in place by dried saliva. He looks me up and
down as though I am on an auctioning block and he’s making a bid.
“You know you gotta be punished for makin’ Jonah look like a fool in
front of his client.” He turns his back on me and walks toward the
black marble and brass dining room set that I found at one of those
posh Beverly Hills secondhand shops. Jonah carries himself with a
conceding air of self-confidence. With his back to me, he clears his
throat. “Now you know we can’t have that.” He looks over his
shoulder at me while making sucking noises with the toothpick
between his teeth. “You know what I mean, Maya?”
“Jonah, please don’t hurt me,” I cry. “Please, not in the face. I
have an audition tomorrow.”
He cocks his head to one side. “Naw, I won’t touch that pretty face
‘cause that, along with that tight ass of yours, is what makes me my
money.” He takes off his camel colored, wool cardigan jacket and
tosses it across the dining room chair. “I got something better you
can do.”
I feel like I am eight years old again, taken back to the time when
Daddy sent me out to pull a switch off a tree because I bit the
babysitter on her inner thigh. I sunk my fangs deep into her inner
thigh until the white meat showed. Who told her she had the right to
spank me? So what if I was running around acting like a spoiled brat
when I should’ve been in bed? She called Mama and Daddy at the
Jones’, where they were having dinner, and told them what I had
done. Later that night, Daddy came storming in the house yelling,
“Maya, go get a switch!” Reluctantly, I pulled the smallest switch I
could find from the oak tree that leaned in the front yard and took
it inside to Daddy. That only added fuel to the fire. “Oh, you’re
trying to be a little smart ass,” he said. Daddy yanked my pants
down, turned me over his knee and tore my ass up with the palm of
his strong, rough hand. The babysitter stood nearby watching and
laughing. Free, China, and Jade were upstairs peeping over the
banister. Daddy whipped me so bad I peed on him, which made him whip
me even harder. Daddy was a massive presence. He had an air of
authority and demanded obedience from his daughters. Back then, it
was called discipline. Today, an ass whipping like that would be
considered child abuse that could land your ass in jail.
Don’t think that babysitter got away with that shit, though, ‘cause
she didn’t. Free was furious that, because of her, I had received
the whipping of my life and she was determined to get her back, and
get her back good. The next time the babysitter came to sit for us,
Free poured the soda from her Sprite bottle down the toilet and
filled it with Citrate of Magnesium and Epsom salt. The last we saw
of her was her back. She shitted all the way home and never sat for
us again. Word got around about the instant laxative, and Mama and
Daddy caught hell trying to get another babysitter. Eventually, they
gave up and decided that Free was old enough to take care of us. It
got a lil’ too good to Free, though — she planted switches to our
tails every chance she got, especially mine. “This gone hurt me just
as much as it’s gone hurt you,” she would say, all the while
laughing.
“Jonah, I didn’t mean to stand up your client,” I quickly say,
attempting to smooth over a hostile situation. “I got delayed at my
audition and I might get the part. It’s not the lead, but if I get
this gig, it will lead to bigger and better things. . .” I gasp at
the look of scorn in his eyes. “But, I promise you, it won’t happen
again, baby,” I whimper, my voice fragile and shaking.
“Bitch, will you please shut the fuck up?” he snaps. His voice,
which was generally deep with a rough edge, was now crisp and clear,
causing me to jump and tumble backward onto the sofa. “You ‘bout to
make my goddamn head hurt.”
I jump to my feet and rush to the kitchen, getting the hell out of
his way. “Would you like a cocktail or something, baby?” I ask,
hoping to calm him down so that he would change his mind about my
punishment, whatever that is. “Let’s have a drink and relax. Okay,
baby?”
“Nope, don’t want no drink,” he smirks, his tongue heavy with
sarcasm. He unzips his camel twill slacks, allowing them to drop to
his ankles. Jonah has always been a snazzy dresser. Even his boxers
have creases. “And, you not getting out of your punishment that
easy,” he growls. “So you can cut out all that goddamn game playing,
girl.”
“Baby, I’m not playing any games with you. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Smart move,” he says, clenching his jaw. Jonah takes a seat on the
sofa and kicks off his shoes. “Maya, it’s time.” Jonah shoves his
right hand inside his cream-colored boxer shorts, letting the tip of
his penis peep through. “Get to suckin’.”
I take a deep sigh of relief and cast my eyes downward. Thank
goodness, all he wants is a blowjob. I just knew he was gonna put a
real hurtin’ on me for standing up that client. Hell, I can’t stand
that client. He grunts like a pig and starts to sweat as soon as the
tip of his head touches my snatch. And he stinks, too—smells like
something you find on the side of the road dead. So, if all I have
to do is suck Jonah’s dick as punishment for missing that
appointment, let’s just say, it’s well worth it. Then again, maybe
not. Jonah is a good twelve inches rock hard and likes to be
deep-throated. I just can’t take that entire dick down my throat,
not without throwing up.
I kneel before him, lower my head and try not to bring up this
morning’s pancakes and link sausages. “Yeah bitch, you a pro at this
shit,” he moans, tilting his head back and palming the top of my
head. “Take it all.” He casually stretches his long legs before him
and encircles me.
“I can’t,” I hum, with a twelve-inch sword about to pierce my
tonsils. “You are too big.”
“Do it!” he demands.
I raise my head and look into his eyes. “Baby, I can’t deep throat
you. You’re too big.”
Smoke seems to exude from Jonah’s ears as he slaps me silly. “What
did I tell you ‘bout tellin’ me what you can and can’t do, trick?”
Blood trickles from my nose and drips onto the commercial beige
carpeting. I use my sleeve as a handkerchief to wipe away the blood.
I force a smile. “You promised you wouldn’t hit me in my face,
Jonah,” I whine. “You can’t honestly think that I can swallow you. I
am not that deep, baby.” I lick my finger, tilt my head back—more so
to keep my nose from bleeding—and stroke myself from my throat down
to my kitty cat. “But, I can take you down here.”
Jonah pokes out his bottom lip, nods his head and grunts. Before I
could blink, Jonah jumps to his feet, grabs me by my shoulder length
hair, snatches me to my feet and yanks my head back as far as it
will go. I struggle to maintain my balance. “Whatchu say, bitch?”
“Jonah, please!”
Jonah leans in close to me, his eyes dark and cold. “Answer me,
motherfucker, before I have to break your fucking neck!” he spit,
showering me with his funkiness.
“I. . .I said. . .I can’t swallow. . .”
“That’s what I thought you said.” He raises his arm in the air and
forms a fist. “A hard head makes for a soft ass.” Jonah plows his
fist into my face, knocking me to the floor. He kneels before me.
“You do what I tell you to do!” Bringing me to my knees, Jonah
strikes a powerful blow to the side of my face, sending me crashing
into the glass-topped coffee table. Shattered glass pricks me like
cactus thorns. I hear a snap that causes me extreme pain in my lower
back. “Bitch, rise to ya feet!” he groans. I can’t move. “Did you
hear me, cunt?
I said rise. . .”
“I heard you, Jonah,” I whimper.
“Oh, so that ass ain’t soft enough?”
“I can’t move, Jonah. I’m hurting.”
“Well, you ain’t finished with your punishment.” Jonah steps out of
his trousers and boxers and walks toward me. He stalls, for what
seems like forever. Then, using his foot as a broom, he sweeps the
broken glass from around me. He straddles me and squats down, his
crotch aiming at my face. “Open your mouth,” he says. His voice is
stern with no signs of sympathy.
Blood trickles from my mouth, down my neck and drips onto my chest.
“Jonah, please. Don’t do this. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Grabbing me by the throat and lifting my neck off the floor, he
leans in, studying me intently. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” His
grip tightens around my neck. Hesitantly, I gradually open my mouth
and Jonah inserts his girth. I lie there, peering into his eyes,
trying not to regurgitate, wondering how or what could make someone
so mean. With his knees planted flat against the floor, Jonah tosses
his head back and releases a deep-throated moan. My jaw muscles
weaken and my teeth graze him with every thrust. His veins pulsate
against my lips. “Fuck!” He pulls from deep within, while releasing
his fluids in my mouth. I swallow to keep from choking. Jonah looks
down at me with bloodshot eyes. “The next time I tell you to do
something, you better do it.” After wiping himself off on my face,
he rises to his feet and starts to walk backward, his calf muscle
grazing the edge of the sofa. He looks down at his knees. “Damnit,
look at what you made me do!” Splotches of blood dance around his
knees as chips of glass fall to the floor.
I boldly meet his glare. “I hope it was worth it.”
“You still talkin’ shit?”
“No, I’m not. . .”
He raises his hand in an ‘I-don’t-want-to-hear-it’ fashion. “It’s
cool. One day you will learn to keep your fucking mouth shut.” Jonah
slips on his pants, his fake alligator Stacy Adams and grabs his
jacket. “You know, Mama, you give good head.”
“I ain’t your fucking mama, you bastard!”
With the swiftness of a cheetah, Jonah leaps toward me and kicks me
in the hip. “That was for my Mama, you ho!” I close my eyes and try
like hell to wish him away for good. “Good luck on your audition,”
he chuckles as the door closes behind him.
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