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Authors: Author Storm,K Elliott

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“Damn, K…k…ym,” this nigga stuttered.

“What happened to my facial, Smythe?”

He sighed and rolled down her body. His tongue met his
cum as it pooled out of her gaping pussy. He slid back up and
wet her face with himself, again and again until she was covered
in his little soldiers. Kym smiled in the dark. You couldn’t tell
a bitch that her face wasn’t benefiting from Diesel’s weekly
facials.

***

 

Satisfied with her latest fuckfest, Kym walked out of Diesel’s
apartment at 2:00 am with a slight limp and a confident smile.
Damn, she had it all! She ran around the back of the row home
to her Charger parked out back. Preparing to chirp the alarm
off, she couldn’t have been more stunned to see her so-called
friend, Special Investigator Tracy Johnson, with a warrant in
her hand, swarmed by Philly’s finest and Rick Brooks.

“Kymber Devers, you are under arrest for …” She tuned
the rest of the Miranda Rights out, as the roaring in her head
drowned out the Investigator’s voice.

For a second Kym blacked out, and was preparing to shoot
her way out of whatever Tracy and Rick thought they were
doing to her. She instinctively reached for her Glock, which
was usually posted on her right hip. Shit, she didn’t have her
County issued weapon. She had never found her 9mm, and
had been so dick whipped lately, that she’d reported it stolen
and stopped asking Diesel and Kuron about it.

“Put your hands up, Devers!” Tracy Johnson screamed at
her like she was on probation.

That bitch! She was probably back with Rick, and now
wanted to ruin my life again
. She turned toward Tracy and
unsteadily moved in on her.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move, Devers!” Tracy demanded.

Tracy drew her County issued Glock, and set her sights
on Kym Devers, prepared to blow her midsection out with a
hollow tipped 9mm bullet from such a close distance.

“Kymber, don’t do it!” Brooks shouted, watching Kym
commit suicide as she kept moving in on Johnson.

He felt a torrent of emotions come over him as he watched
his nemesis trying to kill herself. Without thinking, he rushed
Kym and tackled her into the trashcans lining the sidewalk.
Death would be too easy for her. She needed to pay back society
for her desperate deeds, and he would see to it himself. Brooks
had already been to Kym’s house, and removed the tapes and
his bottle of Viagra. She was too cocky with her extortion, and
he easily found everything in a desk cabinet.

Just because he was feeling particularly nasty, Brooks
picked himself up off her and snatched her own black cuffs
off her waist and jammed them on her wrists. Her face was
peeling, and she looked horrible up close. What had he ever
seen in her nasty ass? He could only imagine what she had
been doing with Smythe before she came outside.

Brooks turned her over to Johnson and dusted off his
Brooks Brothers suit. He walked over to the car and gave
Agent Serrano, fresh out of Graterford, a firm shake. Kym was
a stupid whore who’d been set up the entire time.

“Sorry you had to endure Devers, Serrano. I know you just
loved sitting in the State Penitentiary for two weeks. Don’t
worry, the office will make it up to you. We all should sue the
bitch after the criminal courts are done with her,” Brooks said.

He laughed and sauntered over to Tracy.
There might be a
chance after all between them again
. He watched her hand Kym
over to Philly’s finest, who would transport her to the Round
House at 8
th
and Race before transporting her to Muncy.

“Tracy, do you want to have breakfast after we finish our
paperwork and finalize the reports?” Brooks asked.

He could just imagine his eleven inches digging her back
out like he used to. His soldier stiffened and started standing
to attention at the thought of her dark chocolate booty all over
him again.

“Rick, you probably should have let me kill her,” Tracy
said.

“What?” he asked.

“The lieutenant will want to speak to you about the Jaguar
you purchased for Kym last year. We also have the Black Card
invoices and bills for the last year as well.” Tracy thought about
how he broke her heart earlier in the year while he was fucking
that crazy whore. “It could’ve been all over once she was dead.
I was about to make sure of that.”

“What?” Brooks was speechless.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely need to talk later, after the reports
and paperwork. I’ve never had a Jaguar or Black Card. We
can make this all go away, or it can start all over again.” She
touched his cheek. “You feelin’ me?”

Meet the Author

Storm

STORM is a thirty-something free-lance writer and editor
from Philadelphia. A single mother of two boys, she
brings a sophistication and street-wise love of language to
contemporary urban fiction. STORM is the author of Eva:
First Lady Of Sin, Eva: First Lady Of Sin II, Den Of Sin and
has attended universities in Virginia and Pennsylvania and
holds a Bachelor’s of Arts Degree in English. Over the past
12 years she has lent her literary talents to a host of writing
and editing projects for small businesses and corporations.

 

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