Pursuing The Plug

by Mercy B

  “Tell me you fucking missed me,” he demanded through gritted teeth, removing the final piece of her attire before stepping backward and admiring her beauty. She was slim, unlike the women that made Rafeeq’s dick stand on any other occasion, but she possessed a sexiness that was torturous to the eyes and mind, especially if you’d experienced the thunder between her legs.

  Stripped and bare, Hampsher felt exposed beyond the physical. She’d found joy in the nude, but it was more than what she witnessed each night and woke to each morning. Her limbs were uncovered, but so were the layers of her skin. She felt as if Rafeeq could see every part of her, even the ugliest ones.

  For seconds on end, the two stood inches apart and stared at one another. Bathing in the uncertainty that consumed them while inhaling as much of each other as they could without wanting to exhale and risk losing the other. It was beauty in its rarest form, something new for them both. Fearless with the heart of a lion, Rafeeq welcomed the newfound arousal beyond his britches. Hampsher, on the other hand, wanted to dead everything surrounding the moment and how it came about.

  “You don’t even deserve a nigga like me with your ungratefulness, but I’m going to teach you how to appreciate a motherfucker that means you well. And then I’m going to show you how to accept the fact that you lost this battle before it even began.”

  “Rafeeq. Get over yourself. This,” Hampsher waved between the two of them, “is good sex and nothing more. Please, stop making a fuss about nothing.”

  Smiling, Rafeeq nodded his head and rubbed his hand across the hair of his beard. “You don’t even believe that shit.”

  “Did you bring condoms?” Hampsher questioned.

  “Turn around.” He didn’t answer her inquiry, but made a request of his own.

  Sensing that Hampsher wouldn’t oblige, he stepped forward and removed the air that was between them. Her breath hiked in her chest as her eyes closed and hands automatically lifted to embrace Rafeeq’s large frame. This reaction was completely dissatisfying to her persona, but she could not resist.

  Yes. She’d missed him.

  And. She wanted to touch him.

  Just. Embrace him.

  Feel him.

  Near.

  Deep within some hidden crevice, Hampsher wanted to confirm reality. Know that he was real and this wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Hatred grew heavy in her heart from the confusion and disappointment that she brought upon herself, but she’d be damned if she regretted her move after the warmth of his body fell underneath her fingertips.

  Hampsher wasn’t sure when he’d unclothed, but the skin to skin contact soothed the war that had been waged in her mind, body and soul. Rafeeq sensed her longing and stood until he felt she was completely satisfied with the small dosage she’d medicated herself with. Her small hands were slender and cold to the touch, but he didn’t waver.

  The second her lips slacked and signaled something remotely close to her desire for his, Rafeeq leaned down and brought peace to the salvage. Hampsher’s first reaction was to free herself from the confinement that she felt under his touch, but he held her in position. Daring her to move without ever uttering a word.

  Her awkwardness was humorous, but Rafeeq refrained from laughing. Not only had she never sucked dick, but Hampsher had never kissed either. It was obvious to him in that moment that she’d avoided attachment to men all of her life. Mentally, he made a note to address her petition against the male species in the future.

  As much as Rafeeq wanted to force the intimacy, the last thing he wanted was to upset Hampsher and ruin the mood. In his mind, there was so much time for educating Hampsher on her sexuality. She knew how to fuck, but that would only get them both so far. Quickly losing control of their logic, it wouldn’t be long before they were on a much deeper level.

  “You have so much learning to do.” Rafeeq huffed, exhausted from the tug of war he was playing with Hampsher and her mouth.

  Spinning her around, he pushed her upper body forward and grabbed a handful of ass from her lower half. Massaging her slippery slope with his dick, Rafeeq had a quick pep talk with himself. Knowing what he was about to slide into, he wanted to be sure that he didn’t cum the second he was inside.

  “Rafeeq, a condommmmm…”

  Quieting her worries, Rafeeq slipped his lubricated dick into her pussy and pulled her hair until she was nearly in the upright position. “I’m going to pull out. I promise,” he assured her.

  “OK,” she agreed under that one term.

  Placing her hands on the wall, Hampsher balanced herself before matching Rafeeq’s stroke. She’d be lying to herself if she said that he didn’t have the best dick she’d ever felt within her walls. Though painful, something about Rafeeq made her endure the pain to find the sprouting pleasure that was sure to come. His girth was devastating to her canal and would require some soaking and Kegel exercises, but she was willing to suffer the consequences.

  At least she knows how to ride dick. And throw that shit back. Shit, she knows how to make my shit spit up too. Rafeeq reasoned with himself, knowing that dick sucking was a deal breaker for him.

  If a bitch didn’t suck dick, she might as well have gone on about her business. It was that simple. There wasn’t anything she could do or say to make him want to keep her around. Strangely, this one was different. The small flaw wasn’t enough for him to cut ties. In fact, knowing that no one else had ever graced her lips with their own or with their dick sat well with him even more than knowing a bitch could suck the skin off of his pole.

  Reaching forward, Rafeeq caressed Hampsher’s breasts and nibbled on her clavicle as he allowed her to handle her business. He had no reservations letting her assume she was in control because he knew that once he began putting a hurting on her she’d be no more good. She would be begging him to show her mercy that he wouldn’t bother with.

  “Ummm…” Hampsher’s silence was interrupted by a slight moan, sounding like a money machine to Rafeeq’s ears combined with the sloppiness of her vagina.

  “You like having control, huh?” With one hand, he wrapped her tresses around his fingers and pulled her head backward.

  Barely able to nod, Hampsher agreed with his revelation. Her lights nearly went out as he bit into her neck and brought along her orgasm.

  “I’m cummm…”

  “That’s right cum on this dick.” Rafeeq coached. “Cum on this dick, baby.” Lost in the sauce, he was unaware of what he was saying only that it felt good, and it felt natural.

  “Shit.” Sparkles and lightning sprouted as Hampsher fell victim to a limb-locking orgasm, one that she had only ever been able to bring herself. Since Rafeeq had been dicking her down, she’d been proven wrong. Another human couldn't amount to her own orgasmic success.

  “H.” Rafeeq spun her around as she came down.

  “Huh?” Lust-driven and hardly feeling like herself, Hampsher awarded Rafeeq with an answer. One look into her eyes, and he knew that she was drunk off of the lazy dick he’d given her to get some order among them.

  “Too bad you ain’t in control of shit.” Leaning forward, Rafeeq tossed Hampsher over his shoulder and headed toward her bed, where he planned to clean up the mess he’d made between her legs with his thick, long tongue before finishing her off with some more dick.

  He slept so peacefully, arm tucked under the pillow where his fingers were wrapped around the pistol that he thought he was concealing from Hampsher. As she stared down at the sleeping beast, she wanted to neglect her plans for the rest of their lives. Not seeing one another would take its toll on her, but it was important that she rid herself of him. Rafeeq was quickly becoming a liability, and that was something that she simply didn’t need.

  Dressed in black from her head to her toes, Hampsher crept through her home like a thief in the night. Frankly, she was. She had one goal in mind, and that was stealing the life of another human whose presence wasn’t well represented on this side of the earth. With any luck, she’d me
et them on the other side.

  Avoiding the front of her apartment, where Rafeeq’s driver was posted and waiting on his return, Hampsher took the backstreet behind her apartments to access the small black Honda with a dummy license plate registered to someone rotting in the cemetery. Neither the train nor the bus would suffice in her mission. It was imperative that she sported her own set of wheels. She hated the idea of driving, especially since moving to New York. She’d need to cross the state line in little time and be back before the sun was set to rise.

  With one hour and forty-five minutes of travel to the city of Philadelphia, Hampsher was due at her victim’s home not even twenty minutes after. She ended the trip in exactly two hours and required the same amount of time to return. By 4:30 a.m., her mission would officially be completed.

  As any other New York night, there was still activity in the wee hours. With her mind clear of distractions, Hampsher started the engine of the car that she planned to ditch in the near future and began her journey. Tackling the dark streets of New York, she remained steadfast, knowing that she would be preying upon another meaningless human in very little time. Rafeeq was somewhere sitting and waiting impatiently in the back of her head for his chance with her thoughts, but she gave him no play as she continued on her path.

  Three minutes under the two o’clock mark, she’d reached her destination. The quiet residence that she’d be causing ruckus in stood between two other houses which were nearly identical. Tasteless, Hampsher thought to herself. She hated when people purchased houses that were identical to the one just next to them. It was a sign that they lacked originality and exuberance, being a waste of society’s already polluted air.

  Leaving no traces of her presence, Hampsher ditched the car a block over and walked the remainder of the trail. Like a snake, she slithered into the dim home after cutting the power. With a sly grin, she pocketed the keys that she’d used to unlock the door. She’d confiscated them a little over a week ago from her naïve victim.

  The silence that coated the air was comforting for Hampsher along with the stench of death. It was a scent that she was most familiar with and basked in as the years piled on to one another. In the most recent year, she’d become most acquainted with it, never able to stray from the potency of it for far too long.

  Up the stairs and inside of the bedroom of her prey, Hampsher cleared the home of potential hazards for her wellbeing. She’d familiarized herself with the printed map of the half-a-million dollar home that was nothing short of boring and wasteful spending. After a few minutes, she took a seat in front of the bed and removed the hoodie from her head. The ponytail that she sported was a definite sign that she wouldn’t be leaving the same woman that she came. She would be leaving with another soul under her wing to carry her to the next victim, whose soul would bring her ultimate peace.

  “Crimson Artez,” Hampsher spoke with a slight rasp to her voice from the strenuous night she’d endured.

  Gun in her lap, she stared at the head of the bed that she rested in front of as Crimson stirred from his sleep. He was a killer. Hampsher was aware of his skillset, but it was nothing in comparison to what she’d learned over the years to manage moments such as that one.

  As expected, he reached underneath his pillow to retrieve his gun. As he rose, he lifted the heavy piece of matter and aimed directly at Hampsher’s head without clear vision. Oh, he was good. There was still sleep in his eyes, and the darkness didn’t allow much clarity either, adding to the odds. Yet, he was on target. Shit like that made Hampsher’s heart dance in her chest. It was her definition of invigorating.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  Crimson pulled the trigger over and over, causing Hampsher to belt humorous groans through her throat. She was highly amused, even though laughter was scarce in her life. It was pure comedy. Her mouth was spread so wide as she chuckled that it pained her face, but she continued before silencing herself completely.

  “How does this feel?” She wanted to know.

  “Who are you?”

  “How does it feel? Knowing your power and not being able to utilize it?” Hampsher wanted to know. Her father, being that power head that he was, could’ve killed each and every figure in their home that night had he been given the opportunity, but his power had been stripped away from him. Consequently, he was unable to protect the two things that mattered most to him—his precious wife and his daughter.

  “Fida Babette, daughter of Floyd and Harrah Babette.”

  Hampsher informed Crimson, yet the name didn’t ring any bells. Hampsher’s original birth certificate was riddled with names of the African descent. Her parents stayed loyal to their heritage. Yet, when her father fled the states, traces of her history was erased. Hampsher was her new identity along with new identities for both her grandmother and grandfather to keep them all protected.

  “You murdered my mother. September twenty-first. In four months, twenty years would be marked since you and your crew came into my home in the middle of the night and dragged my father and mother from their bedroom. The fatal wound she suffered from was the end of not only her life but my life as well.”

  As Crimson’s face relaxed, he began drawing the line to connect the dots. His chest sunk at the realization of who was seated before him. The recollection and strand of funerals that he’d recently visited was confirmation to his suspicions. His demons, as well as the demons of his counterparts, were finally catching up to him.

  “Fida stands for redemption. My father considered me the right to his wrongs, but I consider myself the redeemer of souls. According to my name, I am a sacrifice, willing to devote oneself for another. There’s so much truth behind it all.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Your life,” Hampsher stated simply. “As I’ve collected the lives of everyone that stepped foot in my home that night. They’re all dead. You can confirm because I’ve seen you suit up more in the last year than you’ve ever in your life. I’m sure you’re tired of seeing the inside of a church, but thankfully, the last time was your last time. Goodbye.”

  Hampsher never had as much to say as she did when avenging the death of her mother. It was as if her victims and she had a special connection. They were the last to see her mother before death, which gave them a common thread. It was them who she shed her most inner thoughts. It was during their execution that she could unfold and become her true self. Each day, she felt as if she was living a lie, and times like those were when she finally came alive, but that was it. She’d noticed the lapse in time as the timer to her phone sounded. There were no more words left to be said. Lifting her gun with the silencer attached, Hampsher placed a bullet between Crimson’s eyes before placing another in his heart where the bullet had entered her mother before claiming her life.

  Standing from the seat that she occupied, Hampsher pulled it across the room and back under the desk that was against the wall. The gloves that covered her hands protected her fingerprints and gave her an extra boost of confidence in concealing her identity. Within seconds, she’d vacated the home as smoothly as she’d entered. Sure to cover her tracks, she locked the door behind her and took a brief minute to recall how she’d gotten the keys that were dangling from the lock.

  Finally at the exit, she brushed shoulders with an unsuspecting patron. Immediately, his hand clutched his waist as their bodies collided with one another. Hampsher found him humorous. Before he could even remove his Glock from his waist, she would have gutted him like a fish with the blade that she had concealed underneath her biceps. Her blood boiled inside of her veins, causing her body to reheat. It was the second time in one night that she’d been tried. Only this time, the urge to put a hole in her assailant’s chest was prominent.

  Focus, she repeated in her head while forging a smile. “Sorry. A bit clumsy.”

  Bashfully, Hampsher batted her eyes and chuckled. As he relaxed, Hampsher could sense his easiness
return. It was flattering how much men underestimated women. At first glance, he felt as if he had nothing more to worry about, but he did. Hampsher could skin him in his entirety without blinking an eye or batting a lash.

  Silly. Hampsher watched as he removed his hand from his waist. His smile didn’t appear, showcasing his rough exterior. Another breech of humor for Hampsher. It was a badge of honor to appear deadly, but being deadly was an entirely different narrative. The most vicious beings didn’t resemble their capabilities. It was an aspect that Hampsher took great pride in.

  Hampsher recalled as she twirled the keys she’d snipped from Crimson with little effort. Men. She scoffed. When will they understand that this is a woman’s world? Shaking her head, Hampsher pulled the hoodie that she wore over her ears and began her jog to the car.

  She’d locked the door behind her and reconnected the power in the home. From her mobile device, once she was safe in New York, she would hack the feed and erase the footage of her appearing on the lawn. The cameras that were set to cover each inch of his home hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Once settled into the vehicle, Hampsher removed the small notebook from her pocket and took a pen to the page. There was a list of people involved, directly or indirectly, with the killing of her mother, and she’d knocked them off one by one. No life had been spared as her mother’s wasn’t. Hampsher had spent years gathering information on the ruthless collection that had brought hell to her heart that night in her home. She was still disappointed in her young seven-year-old self for not being able to do something more. Her mission wasn’t only to avenge her mother’s death, but it was also to ease the guilt that she felt in which was attached to her mother’s death.

  The pecking on the pane jarred Rafeeq from his coma like slumber. With his Glock pointed toward the window and ready to blast, he sighed in relief upon noticing the begging cats scratching to get someone’s attention. Lowering his arm and placing the gun back underneath the pillow, he averted his attention toward the emptiness that was next to him.