Using my hand to cover her mouth, I pinned Mixie to the wall. “I swear on my mama, if you don’t chill the fuck out. Stop disrespectin’ my people’s crib. You got every right to be mad as fuck at me. I’m not takin’ that from you. If you wanna be done with a nigga, that’s cool too. I won’t fight you ‘cause I understand that shit. I wouldn’t be cool with no shit like this either.”
Mixie’s delirious ass started laughing uncontrollably like she was having a nervous breakdown. She wiggled her mouth loose from my hand. Muffled words came from her mouth.
“I’ma move my hand, but if you start yellin’, you gotta go.” Mixie nodded her head in understanding.
“Nigga, you got me fucked up if you think I’m just going to leave you and let another bitch reap all the benefits that I worked my ass off for. You and that bitch got me fucked up. I’ma allow this dumb shit. I’m choosing to believe you aren’t dumb enough to fuck me over. Just know I’m setting the fucking rules.” Mixie had an intense scowl on her face as she spoke with all her chest. I felt that shit, and I respected what she was saying.
At the end of the day, I was grown as fuck; I did what the fuck I wanted. If Mixie decided she still wanted to fuck with a nigga, that was cool. I was with it, but she wasn’t running shit. I would take what she said into consideration. Depending on how I felt, we’d go from there. My loyalty was to Mixie wholeheartedly. Yeah, I wanted to fuck Juniper, and I was going to. That was it, though. She wasn’t finna trump Mixie because she had the title of my wife. Not when this shit wasn’t real. I didn’t want to see Juniper lose her life over some shit she really had nothing to do with. Being a casualty of a war she didn’t want to be in was fucked up. If signing a piece of paper saying we were married could save Juniper's life, then so be it. If Mixie’s hardheaded ass could shut up and understand this shit for what it is; Mixie was my bitch. Juniper, I was helping out. Nothing was gonna change how I felt about my situation with Mixie. I hoped Mixie figured that shit out.
“Faheem, what’s taking so long?” I turned my head to the side seeing my mom standing there with her hand on her hip. “I thought you two got lost with how long you were taking. What I do know is I didn’t raise my son to put his hands on women.” My mom’s eerily calm voice immediately made me back off of Mixie,putting space between us. Even though I didn’t hit Mixie or any shit like that, my mom didn’t play about men putting their hands on women.
“Nah, Ma, we were just talkin’.” I rubbed the back of my neck nervously trying to check my mom's temperature.
“Well, I’m sure that girl is sick of being tied up. Mixie, why don’t you come back to the den with me? It’s been awhile since we’ve been around each other. I think we need to be reacquainted.” What my mom said might have sounded like a suggestion, but it was a demand. I would bet my last dollar that my mom was about to check Mixie. “I’m not too fond of women putting their hands on my child in my house, and that mouth of yours… I don’t like.” My mom icily glared at Mixie. “Let’s go.”
Mixie looked at me nervously, but I couldn’t save her. I was just as scared as she was. Mixie cautiously walked over to my mom then the two of them headed down the hallway. Shaking my head, I prayed my mom took it easy on Mixie. Walking to the end of the hall, I went in the last door on the left. Opening it, I was immediately confused. Juniper wasn’t tied up on the bed where I left her. Going all the way in the room, I looked around, but I didn’t see her sneaky ass. I swear her ass was an escape artist.
Out the corner of my eye, I saw a figure swing at my head. At the last minute, I ducked then tackled Juniper onto the bed.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOU DOIN’?” I barked in her face. These bitches were tryna make me lose my mind.
Chapter 9
Juniper Weaver
Ialways managed to get myself in situations that I didn’t have the upper hand in. All my hours of wiggling, I’d managed to loosen the ropes on my hands, which I didn’t willingly allow Faheem’s stupid ass to put on me this morning. His big, ugly ass got me while I was sleeping. He didn’t even change me out of the biker shorts and oversized tee-shirt I wore to bed. He put fucking socks on my feet and called it a day. I cussed him out so badly, he eventually tied a cloth over my mouth preventing me from speaking. I might have not been able to speak that didn’t stop me from cussing him out in my head. Why he thought it was a good idea to take me to meet his family in night clothes and socks was beyond me. Honestly, I didn’t understand why I needed to meet them.
We weren't really going to be together. This marriage wasn’t real. It was about saving my life, not even clearing my dad’s debt. That was just an added bonus I threw in there to play hardball. I didn’t need nor did I want to know Faheem’s family. I’m sure they were going to be ass holes because they liked his girlfriend and saw me as the outsider. I’d pass on meeting the passiveaggressive family. All I wanted to do was keep this fake marriage as simple as possible. Soon as I was able to divorce Faheem, I could with no problems.
Now, when I was able to wiggle my hands loose, I thought it was a blessing from above. Maybe I could escape and get out of here without having to marry Faheem. I was just about to leave when I heard Faheem and his little funky ass girlfriend arguing–another person I didn’t want to deal with. Mixie, or whatever her name was, had nothing to worry about with me. I had zero desire to fuck with her nigga. He was cute or whatever, but I didn’t like dick that didn’t belong to me. All that hostile energy, she needed to save for her nigga.
I came up with the bright idea to knock the next person who came into the room, so I hid behind the door, with the small white table lamp in hand. I waited, thinking I could catch whoever off guard. Wrong, being that it was Faheem who came into the room. That nigga easily got the upper hand like he’d been expecting me to be there, leaving me defenseless, and him in control once again. Faheem pinned my arms at the sides of my head to the bed and using his weight to straddle me, keeping my lower body pinned down with the weight of his body. His black eyes seemed darker than normal, and the way he yelled at me said he was pissed off. It had me questioning if I made a mistake in trying to knock him out.
Faheem cocked his head to the side, licking his lips before smirking at me. I thought he was about to say something smart. Instead, he did the unexpected… Bending his neck, he aggressively crashed his lips into mine, forcing a kiss I didn’t have the power to reject. My lips followed the lead of his sensually aggressive kiss. When his tongue slipped into my mouth, a moan fell from my lips. I felt him pulling my hands above my head and clasping them with one of his massive hands, with his free hand slowly roaming the length of my body.Sneaking his hand under my tee-shirt, he found his way to my titties, kneading them tenderly.
Unwillingly, I arched my back, desperately moaning to feel more pleasure from his hands. He squeezed my breast then rubbed my nipple slowly, I felt my pussy gushing from anticipation. Our lips locked as our tongues battled for dominance going back and forth between our mouths. His hand moved from my breast to the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down enough to get his hand inside my pants. Cupping my pussy, he rubbed his palm over my clit. His fingers played in the wetness of my folds.
I broke the intense kiss we were locked in. “Fuck,” I moaned frantically on the verge of crying. It felt like I was about to cum any second.
Then, out of nowhere, Faheem stopped playing with my pussy, pulling his hand from my pants, fingers glistening from my juices. A sinister smile formed on his lips as he looked down at me. “For someone who swore they didn’t want me, you let a nigga have his way with you. And that pussy is snitchin’ on ya ass. She wetter than mutha fuckin’ water.”
It felt like cold water was poured on me looking up at Faheem’s smug ass grin.
“Get the fuck off me,” I angrily said the first thing that came to mind, using my attitude, trying to mask my embarrassment. My overly eager ass was ready to just give up the pussy. After all that shit I talked, I needed my ass whooped for being so willing.
“Ion know, you might flood the room. I know that pussy wet as fuck still,” Faheem joked, making me roll my eyes.
“Just like that, it’s a desert again.”
“Yeah, aight. Don’t try no crazy shit again. I’ma lay ya ass out next time you try to hit me again.” Faheem gave me a serious look letting me know he meant what he said. Then he got up, releasing my hands. “Here.”
Faheem threw a bag at me as I slowly sat up. I didn’t know where the bag had come from, but it had clothes in it.
“Hurry up and put that shit on, so we can get this shit over with,” he commanded me.
Making my way to the bathroom, I shut the door behind me. Pulling the clothes from the bag, I smiled seeing the bra and panties along with the matching purple fitted track suit. Looking around the bathroom, I found a shelf with rags. I grabbed one of the rag, then wetting it, with soap and water. As I was about to clean my still drenched pussy, the bathroom door flung open.
“I’m coming, damn!” I snapped seeing Faheem standing in the doorway.
