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tellin’ you, Pasha. Don’t fuck wit’ me, yo. Fuck another nigga, and see what I’ma do to you.” He presses himself into me. His thick dick is hard. I attempt to push him off of me. But he’s pressed to fuck. I tell him no. Tell him to get off of me. But he’s not hearing it.
    â€œYo, fuck outta here. You haven’t given me this pussy in weeks. We fuckin’, yo. Tonight. Right now. Ya heard?” He shoves a hand between my thighs and starts massaging my crotch over my jeans. The friction causes an unexpected jolt to shoot through my clit. Electricity heats my pussy. “I’m puttin’ my dick up in this shit, yo. This my shit. Tell me this pussy ain’t wet for this hard dick.” He grinds himself deeper into me, his dick pressing against my inner thigh.
    I roll my eyes up in my head, reminding myself to stay on script.To keep playing my position until it’s the right time to strike. Jasper starts kissing on my neck, nibbling on my ear. My body starts to heat.
    But fucking this nigga clouds my judgment. It blurs my perspective. I push him back. He stumbles a bit. I storm out of the bathroom with my jeans undone, trying to distance myself from him, trying to exhaust the flames slowly burning inside of me.
    â€œYou my muthafuckin’ wife, yo.” He snatches my arm again, swinging me around to face him. The nigga’s switch flips. The veins in his neck swell, and I can literally see them pulsing. “Pasha, I done tol’ you I own dis shit, ya heard? Don’t have me punch ya muthafuckin’ lights out, Pasha. What you want, a muhfucka to beg? Is that it?”
    He pushes me back on the bed, gets on top of me, pinning me down with his weight. I don’t put up a fight. Again, I let him think he’s won. He holds both of my wrists up over my head with one hand, then uses his other hand to rip open my blouse. Yes, I know I could scream. I can also fight this nigga off of me—if I really wanted to. But I don’t. And I won’t. Jasper knows this. But what he doesn’t know is, it’s all an act. I want him to keep thinking I’m still helpless and weak. He’ll learn soon enough. They’ll all learn.
    Besides, knowing his goons are here, the last thing I want is for this nigga to flip and decide he wants to invite them all in up here, pinning me down and each of them taking turns running up inside of me. I don’t trust any of them niggas he has up in here. Well, maybe Stax. But I can’t be so sure about his ass, either.
    â€œYa muhfuckin’ ass been holdin’ out on dis good shit for weeks and a nigga been lettin’ you get that off, yo. I’ma fuck the shit outta this pussy tonight, yo. I know you been fuckin’ some other nigga, yo. Keep shit a hunnid, yo.” He glares at me. His nose flares. “Who da fuck was you out there fuckin’, yo? And don’t lie to me, Pasha.”
    I don’t blink. Don’t flinch. “Nigga, you’re crazy.”
    He grabs me by the throat. “Tell me who da fuck you been fuckin’, yo. Is it one of them Internet muhfuckas, huh? Let me find out ya ass still fuckin’ wit’ dat online shit, Pash, ‘n’ I’ma bust yo’ ass. Is you back on ya bullshit, yo?” He starts shaking and choking me. I’m gasping. My eyes start bulging. “Answer me, yo?”
    This is the shit I have to go through. What I’ve allowed myself to go through—Jasper’s erratic bouts of rage and jealousy, his obsessive need to control me.
    He doesn’t respect me. Doesn’t trust me. How could he? After all the dick sucking I’d done behind his back.
    Still, I don’t respect his ass, either.
    Yet…here I am. No trust, and no real love for this nigga.
    Deception is the one thing I’ve mastered. Pretending. Smiling at the right time. Saying the right things. Lying by omission. Telling this crazy nigga whatever