|Fatally Her PT 8|
She was a sinner… She was a killer… She was a devil… She was Satan!
She was upset! Vexed! This motha fucka just escaped death.
She couldn’t sleep, she was tossing and turning in between her silk sheets. On her queen bed, she was spread. Frustrated… lucid dreams about how she missed the kill. Daydreams of how her head was worth twenty five mil’. Nightmares of how she dodged an assassin’s bullet.
Her sleep wasn’t sleep, it was vision of revenge… A reward on her head? “Ha!” She would seek who put it there then they were dead.
She was pitching a fit, throwing shit everywhere. Her closet was destroyed because of her storm, bags and minks littered her floor. She broke the bed in her room, all of the diamonds and pearls flung all about.
The nerve of that chocolate man, for believing that he could do her dance. She could never forgive herself for succumbing to his trance.
It was time to self purge: Destroy all of the bags, heels, and the furs. Start over. Overhaul her policy. She was accepting nothing less than a half of a million.
Twenty five mil’ on her head… “Ugh!” She couldn’t believe the cowards had the guts.
She would start with the man who was chocolate. He knew her identity and her moves… .
‘Switch it up.”
She couldn’t believe that she was fooled… .
The chocolate man, almost had her biting the dust.
Still, she was yearning for his assassins touch, the way that he grabbed her butt, and the devil that she saw when she looked into his eyes through his shades made her heart shake.
She fell in love with that thug on sight. The moment that he revealed the deal, she was thrilled by his cunning.
“Umm,” her dreams were wet. She dreamed of having sex… Suck him, then kill him!
But, she could only kill him!
The way that he whispered in her ear touched her murderous spirit. “He’s just like me,” she screamed.
She needed new guns and more poison. It was war! War time meant that she upped the score. She was killing whoever was available. Wife… .
All was fair in love and war.
She was in love with the moneybag and prepared for battle. And something was creeping into her heart for t ole boy. She would stab him in the heart, for involving her heart.
The chocolate assassin’s attempt on her life kept her looking over her shoulder. She was seeking closure. He was the only person in the entire world that was able to expose her.
She was chasing an assassin backwards. Looking over her shoulder.
Twenty five mil’ for her kill, why didn’t he seal the deal?
Her Tiffany necklace, she ripped it off of her neck, and threw it down the steps. She was seething with fire. Murder was her desire. Hell was in her eyes and images of that dark skinned guy. She was coming up with ideas, of killing him while he tasted her.
Her home…., she was setting it ablaze as it was no longer safe. She was starting anew in a gazebo, in the jungle, in Africa, somewhere.
She almost fumbled the rock. Pictures of her shot on a New York City block, flashed repeatedly upon her mental screen. Mr. Assassin was whispering to her in her dreams, “I know who you are.”
“The audacity of this motha fucka!”
It was obvious that he had no clue who she was. If he did, he would’ve killed her dead. Because she was Ms. Kill ’em dead. He made a mistake letting her live.
She would hunt him until he was dead.
Twenty five mil’ was her price tag. Twenty five mil that he would never receive.
Indeed, she was the princess of darkness, enthralled by his darkness, she wouldn’t rest until all that he saw was darkness.
She slung the Versace China. Shards of ceramic and porcelain littered the floor. She was a woman scorned!
Ring the alarm– here comes her fire storm. She butcher knifed the couch to shreds. She would paint the world blood red, until Mr. Assassin was dead.
Who sent him? He would tell her right before she chopped off his dick. Then she would stuff it in his mouth…
CockSucker; had the game twisted.
Kill her? He had the chance but he missed it.
She put on her KB shades struck a match… Her mansion went up in flames. She whispered, “Femme Fatale”, as she strode away.