“Why you wanna take care of me?” she moaned.

“It’s something about you, plus this shit out here ain’t for you.”

“I take good care of myself. I’m not a charity case.”

“I didn’t say you were.” He ran all the way up in her and paused. “You don’t need to be in the streets beefing with Suef or no other niggas.”

“So what you want, for me to give up my blocks to you?”

He gave her a hard thrust. “Let’s be real, Arnessa, if I wanted your blocks”—he gave another hard thrust—“I would’ve had ’em.”

At the moment the way that he was sliding his rock-hard dick up and down in her, she felt like he could have whatever he wanted. “I like making my own money,” she purred.

“You can keep your money on the street, but you … you need to fall back,” he said, sliding his hands beneath her ass and lifting her slightly. He spread her cheeks apart and drove deeper inside of her.

“Ahhhh,” Arnessa screamed, and her eyes fluttered from the pleasure that he was pounding into her.

He licked her ear, then whispered in it, “I’ma handle that B-more package for you too. You keep sending them chicks down there alone, them niggas gonna take that work and kill them one day.” He lifted her legs up over his forearms, going right up the middle.

“Ooh-ooh, oh, Butta, wait, stop.” Arnessa’s body tensed, her legs began to tremble, and her pussy contracted in and out as creamy liquid flowed down, saturating his dick. She was experiencing her first orgasm, and Butta had given it to her; mentally he had her wrapped now.

He pulled out and saw her cream covering his brown dick. “Turn over,” he told her. Holding her by the waist, he entered her from behind. She grabbed a throw pillow and bit down on it to keep from screaming aloud. Butta moved her hair out of the way and sucked her neck while sliding in and out of her. “You belong to me now. This is my pussy.”

Enjoying the long strokes he was giving her from the back, she simply nodded in agreement. Butta ran the tip of his tongue up her spine. Arnessa responded by arching her back and poking her ass out, exactly what he wanted her to do. Beginning to climax, he squeezed her waist tighter, pumping harder and faster, all the while telling her, “Don’t no nigga touch what’s mine. Understand?”

“Mm, oh, mm,” she moaned.

He yanked her hair, thrusting in her even harder, “Did you hear what the fuck I said?”

“Yes,” she panted.

Groaning in pleasure, he exploded inside of her. With his dick still in her, he asked, “Whose pussy is this?”

The way he was coming at her was controlling, arrogant, and confident. Arnessa loved it! Hesitantly, she answered, “It’s yours, Butta.”

Inside a warehouse in Manhattan’s meatpacking district, Trenton sat, naked, his hands tied behind the chair, his legs spread apart and each bound to the bottom of a chair leg. His mouth was covered with gray duct tape. When Shawn snatched him out of his car, he hadn’t even put up a fight. Instead, he began copping pleas. “You can have my money, just let me go.”