The Corner 01 by Alex Richardson

Author:Alex Richardson [Richardson, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Urban Life, streetlit3, UFS2, Fiction
ISBN: 9780615194639
Google: -t8APwAACAAJ
Amazon: 061519463X
Publisher: Miller Beach Publishing
Published: 2008-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9 Ain’t My Friend

He lay between Myte’s legs pumping hard and fast like this was going to be his last. He squeezed her ass and sucked her nipples all while continuing his strokes. Myte, doing what she does best, bucked her pelvis, moaned and spoke in Spanish to heighten the act.

“Keep talking that shit to me!” he cried out between breaths. She did. Told him everything he wanted to hear. Made him think that he was the best she’d ever had, even though he knew better.

She couldn’t believe how long he could hold a nut back. She was ready for him to cum so she controlled her muscles. Squeezing his thang constantly. Causing much needed friction to get him to orgasm faster. He hooked one of her legs around his arm and began to pound harder. She didn’t like it but moaned in his ear to make him believe she did.

“Oh shit! I’m coming baby,” he grunted.

She then felt his juices flow inside her. She clawed his sweat coated back. Danced that fine line between pleasure and pain. Once he was done he rose from her then went to the bathroom without saying a word. She reached for the pack of Newport’s that were on the nightstand. She lit the cancer stick and took a much-needed long hard drag. The nicotine fix was well deserved after putting up with some sex she really didn’t like but had to deal with for business sake.

She was halfway finished with the cigarette when Detective Styles came walking in the bedroom butt naked with his ten-inch dick swinging with every step. Myte took another drag while thinking how she made him believe he was the best lover a woman could want. He grabbed his boxers and slid them on. She just watched him. He had a well-built body and an anaconda for a dick but couldn’t fuck worth shit and didn’t eat pussy. Now what kind of shit is that? Myte thought.

He slid on his pants asking, “You sure, there’s at least a hundred grand in there?”

“Yeah, when have I been wrong?” she asked nonchalantly, while standing to get dressed.

“You got a point,” he said, as he smacked her on the ass.

“Nigga, you know I bruise easy. You want Skills to see a hand print on my ass that he didn’t put there!”

“Fuck him! That’s my shit, he’s just chillin’ in it for a second.

Please! This shit belongs to neither one of you fools. I’m just playin’ the hell out of y’all asses, she wanted to tell him.

“Whatever, Papi. But we don’t need to fuck shit up. He still gives me the info on where all the shit is,” she said instead.

Sliding his pistol in its holster and clipping his Chicago PD badge on his belt, he told her, “Soon we’re not going to need his ass, so we’re going to have to find the best way to get rid of him. You feel me?”

“Yeah, I feel you,” she said as she grabbed her thong and bra.

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