Corny.

I followed.

I tailed his Benz through the hills, slow, patient. When he turned onto a quiet-ass residential street, I knew it was time. I pulled up right behind him when he got out, and before he could even look over his shoulder—

CRACK.

The butt of my pistol met his jaw. He hit the ground hard.

“Bitch made ass nigga,” I growled, liftin’ him by his collar and draggin’ him to the trunk.

When he woke up, he was in my basement. Tied to a chair. Sweat drippin’. Cryin’ like a bitch.

“H-Holy shit, what the f—where the fuck am I?!”

I exhaled slow, blowin’ smoke in his direction. My blunt danced between my fingers as I walked around him like a lion circlin’ dinner.

“Hush.”

SMACK.

His head snapped sideways from the force of my backhand.

“Too much noise,” I said calmly, straightenin’ my cufflinks. “You in my house. Use yo inside voice li’ man.”

He sobbed, shakin’. “Please… please, man… I got money. Just—please don’t hurt me.”

I crouched low, eye level now. My face inches from his.

“Money?” I scoffed. “Nigga, do I look like I want your fuckin’ money?”

I gripped his chin with one hand, my ring pressin’ into his skin. “You know what I want?”

He shook his head, lips tremblin’.

“Janelle.”

His eyes went wide. “No—no, please, don’t—”

“I tried to be nice,” I snarled, squeezin’ his face. “But s-she’s just too addicting to let go.” I laughed.

I leaned in, nostrils flarin’. I felt my moods changing by the second

“I should kill you,” I whispered. “But I’m gon’ let you sit in this bitch andknowshe already mine. She moaned my name, dog. You don’t come back from that.”

He started cryin’ harder.

I smacked him again.

“Don’t cry. Be a man. BE A FUCKIN’ MAN BITCH.”

He whimpered.

I stood up, adjusted my suit jacket, took one last puff of my blunt.

“You gon’ sit here, think about her legs wrapped around me, about the way she screams when I shove my dick in her. You gon’ sit here andsimmer, bitch.”

I walked off, laughin’ to myself. The sound of his muffled sobs trailin’ behind me.