Page 6 of I F*cked Somebody’s Wife

That wasn’t no friendly goodbye. That was some form ofintimacy. Anigga smelling the top of her head, pullin’ her close, holding her for twenty seconds too long.

That was a nigga tryna taste somethin’ that ain’t his.

They walked off in opposite directions. She got into her lil white Benz, all casual and shit. But him? He walked off down the street. I couldn’t wait to handle this nigga, I was gon’ make it fun, messy and slow.

I dropped my blunt in the tray, sat up, and started my car.

Time to follow the motherfucka’.

He ain’t even check behind him. Too damn comfortable. That’s how you know niggas ain’t never had any real world terrors—they forget its evil out here; evil be me. I tailed him smooth, quiet, two cars behind, black tint hidin’ the rage on my face. We hit the freeway, then some side streets in Obsidian heights. Big-ass trees. Quiet little neighborhoods. He pulled into a two story crib with a long-ass driveway, flowers ‘nshit.

Cute.

Real fuckin’ cute.

I parked a few houses down. Slipped the suit jacket off and grabbed my Nina from the glove box. Fully loaded. Extended clip. Suppressor already on. Slid my rings off, unbuttoned my button up leaving me in just my wife beater.

Before I went in I stared at the sky thinkin’ of Janelle and suddenly my dick got hard all over again. Just imagining the sounds, the taste, the smell.

I chuckled. “I miss my baby.” I uttered, cocking my gun.

I took another breather then went in for the kill.

He didn’t even hear me come in. Back door was damn near open, I crept through the kitchen, heard music playin’ upstairs. Heard the shower runnin’.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs. Waiting, gun behind my back.

When the water cut off, I moved.

He came down with a towel on, hummin’ some shit. Soon as he hit the bottom step, I stepped from the shadows and pressed the steel to his temple.

“Who—p-please…” he stammered, eyes wide.

“Shhh,” I whispered. “Don’t talk. Just listened.”

He froze. Tears tricklin’ down his face.

“That woman… you work with. The one who you touched today.” I said, voice low, steady. “After work, in the front.”

His brows pulled together. “J-Janel-”

Wrong name to say.

I cracked him across the mouth with the butt of the Nina. Blood splattered. He hit the floor, groaning. I stepped over him, crouched low, and whispered right by his ear.

“You ever feel pussy so good it fucks with your mind?” I asked. “So wet, so warm it makes you feel like you floatin’?”

He groaned, tryna crawl away. I grabbed his leg and yanked him back like a rag doll.

“Her pussy got my soul screamin’, nigga. And y-you got the fuckin’ audacity to put your dusty ass hands on her?”

“P-please, n-no I never touched her.” He tried to plead but it came out gurgled—blood in his mouth, panic in his eyes.

“N-n-no?” I mocked, voice taunting. I laughed

The sounds of his cries filled the ears of the walls.

I slid my gun into my waistband and pulled the knife from my ankle. Long. Clean. Sharp as hell.

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