Sexy Little Liar by Noire Page A

down on my ass like he was riding a pony. “I oughtta fuck the shit outta you! I oughtta shoot you right in ya stank pussy! I oughtta give you some of this big black dick you been wantin’!”
    â€œBut Moolah got meeee . . .” I hollered all in my pillow as that nigga cracked my tailbone under his weight and bitch-slapped me upside my head with his tool over and over again. Even above the sound of the gun splitting my skull I could still hear Peaches’ voice in my head warning me about the dangers of gankin’ a throwed-off drug-slanga like Punchie:
    You better watch yourself, Mink! You fucked with Punchie’s money and he ain’t going away, you know. I tried to tell you and Bunni that lil “catch-a-crackhead” scam was way too risky, but y’all just didn’t wanna listen.
    Peaches ain’t never lied. Punchie was a fool for real. This dude was bent. Straight-up mental. I could feel the crazy rolling offa him and I knew he had snuck in my window to do way more than just ride my ass.
    Something told me I was gonna have to scheme my way outta this trouble. If begging for mercy woulda made Punchie raise up offa me I woulda begged my sweet ass off, but Punchie wasn’t the forgiving type and mercy wasn’t in this nigga’s nature. It wasn’t even about the money with him no more. It was about giving him his propers and maintaining his street cred, and whether Moolah had given him the package I had dropped twenty-five large on or not, this nigga was fixin’ to straight-up slump me. Yeah, by the time Peaches and Bunni got back home my cold body was gonna be stretched out right on this rickety little cot, and Punchie Collins wasn’t gonna be nowhere to be found.
    I cringed as the butt of his tool kept raining down on me fast and furious. “I should go up in your ass,” he bitched some more. He gripped my hip with one hand and started grinding and humping on my half-naked booty real hard. “ Yeah! Uh! Uh! I should run my dick straight up your big donkey-donk ass!”
    He started popping his hips, rubbing his crotch all over my ass, and then he got to gun-busting me again. “Slick bitch ! You round here shoppin’ ”— whack! —“and stuntin’ ”— whack! —“and flossin’ in limos and tossin’ mad paper in the gutta.” Whack! He pounded me. “Fuck my nigga Moolah gettin’ you! This me ! I know you got some more bank on you! I know there’s a whole lot more where you got that shit from! Now WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?”
    â€œOkay!” I yelled as he pistol-whipped the hell outta me. I pressed my nose into the pillow and tried to cover both sides of my face with my hands. Punchie might break my fingers and dent my skull, but this nigga wasn’t about to fuck up my mug if I could help it. Don’t fuck up my face, I screamed inside as he beat me .
    â€œOkay, I’ll give it to you!” I shrieked. “You can have it, Punchie! Whatever I got left you can have that shit!”
    That maniac went completely still. “Well where it at, then?”
    I knew I had fucked up the moment the words flew outta my mouth. For a second I started to tell Punchie to just continue on cracking my dome because all I had left was about five measly grand, and I was planning on laying that and some kinda bullshit sob story on Gutta when he got out. Shiiit , I was so scared of what that monster was gonna do when he found out I had spent his money that I woulda much rather let Punchie beat me to death than face Gutta empty-handed when he got sprung up outta the joint. Hell no. Death by Punchie would be way better than death by Gutta!
    But all that whacking musta scrambled my brains ’cause suddenly I heard myself blurt out, “It’s in the safe! Let me up and I’ll open it!”
    Punchie scrambled offa me in two seconds flat, and I cried out with relief as the crunched-in bones of