What She Wanted Read online

  Her throat opened as he eased his head forward until he hit a wall. Her deep throat deepened, and he gave her centimeter by centimeter, until his eight-pack rested against her forehead. Kuron pushed forward until Kym felt like she would gag and spit up his dick. Then he pulled all the way out.

  “He do it like this?” He pointed his dick toward his cousin.

  “What?” Kym asked.

  His dick was back in her throat, and she was slurping like it was the last dick she’d ever have. He pulled out again.

  “My cousin. He do you like this when y’all was on his twin bed, knowin’ his mom was on her way home?” Kuron asked.

  Cousins? She was shamed, but too damned horny now to care. Kym shut that nigga up by bobbing on his meat like a pro. Feeling his veins popping, she pushed back before getting a throat full. She felt the cum rising up in her, and needed Diesel to put that fire out. She knew he could, because he had done so many times in the past. Why the fuck his name had to be Diesel, though?

  Diesel was patiently waiting his turn from behind. Kym knew his ass was turned the fuck out by her performance with his cousin. She got up from her knees and bent over, giving Diesel all her ass.

  “Do what it do, Smythe,” Kym said.

  Diesel wasted no time running up in her twat. She knew his stroke, knew where it was coming from, and knew he could put that fire out. A bitch was shaking like a junkie, waiting for him to build back up that flame. It was her own special thing…fire in her belly, needing to be put out.

  Bent over, Kym’s hands on the floor, Diesel fucked her like his name was normal. She felt him swell up inside her hole, and flexed her coochie muscles on it like it was leaving on the next train. She tossed her ass back, pushing harder onto the floor for leverage. Diesel had her legs around his waist, and was smashing in and out of her pussy hard, like he had something to prove.

  “Who’s pussy is this?” he asked.

  Who the fuck was he kidding? “The nigga who in it,” Kym responded. She was talking much shit, but they all knew it.

  Kuron was back in action. She must’ve forgotten that he’d been on lockdown for seven and some change, because he was rock hard again. He picked her up and carried her to the couch. On her side, he kissed and licked her from lips to lips, and everything in between. He settled in between two thick thighs, and teased the pussy with his swollen, seven year, drought-hardened dick. Kym felt the flame begin again.

  “Boys, y’all playin’ with it,” Kym said.

  Diesel crawled in from behind, fingers invading her virgin backdoor. His body curved around her from the back and pushed, fighting his way inside. Tense, she stiffened and fought the invasion. Kuron kissed away the pain. Soon, Kym was taking both dicks, one in each hole, without a break.

  The flame built and rescinded. Burst into shooting sparks and then dimmed. In the end, she was overworked, and the final buck knocked her ass out. When she woke up, the house was empty, and her Glock was gone.

  Fuck, one of the former convicts she was fucking, and currently on her caseload, was in the possession of her County issued Glock 9mm. They could be out robbing banks, and the evidence would point right to her. She was fucked out, fucked over, her gun was gone, and she had no written notes for either visit. Some goddamn probation officer she was proving to be.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Johnson, what you got?” Brooks asked.

  “She went straight from the office to the Cherry Hill Mall in New Jersey. She dropped $2300 in Coach, Macy’s and Aeropostale.” Johnson snorted. “She must have a second job, or she’s robbing banks on the weekend. Then she paid a visit to #20945 – K. Douglas.”

  Brooks wasted no time in checking his personnel files. “She makes $39,900 a year. She has no kids, and the only tax write-off is her house on Alice Street. There’s no way she can drop $2300 at the mall on her regular salary.”

  “What about that Jaguar she drives? There’s no way she can afford that kind of luxury on her regular salary either,” Johnson said.

  Brooks didn’t want to think of the down payment she made on that Jaguar that he was still paying off; on her Black Card on his account and in his name. He was glad that Johnson was on the phone and not in person. He didn’t know if he could control his expression of fear right about now.

  “We saw her pull out a knot of cash at the store registers, and we have it all on tape. With what we have, we should be able to pull her financials and credit reports, and seriously start digging into her past,” Johnson said.

  Brooks felt the familiar pit in his stomach. He had a lot to hide, and more to lose if even part of the truth came out. There was too much of his shit tangled in Kym’s web. As an afterthought, he made a mental note to pay her Black Card bill.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else you can tell us about Devers, Brooks? You worked pretty closely with her over the last two years. Hell, you’re still her supervisor, and I can’t think of anybody who knows her better,” Johnson said.

  “Nothing that I can think of, Johnson. I still think about the good old days, you know,” Brooks said.

  “Yeah, well don’t. I’ll call you when we get the go ahead on Devers.”

  ***

  Six months ago…

  “Mr. Brooks’ office,” the dinosaur sang into the phone.

  “Supervisor Brooks.”

  “Hold one moment, please.”

  Silence. Click.

  “Brooks here.”

  “Umm, yes, my son, he pays all his money to Officer Devers. He take all his money to her. He can no help me pay my bills. She always come here and stay too long. She take all his money,” a woman stated in broken English.

  “Ma’am, can I ask for your name, please?”

  “Maria Saldano. My son name es Mario Oroyo. He come home from jail four months ago. I can no have him stay here if she come to take all his money away. She stay too long and take all his money,” she said.

  “Can I have a telephone number to reach you, if and when I find out about the fees your son is paying?” Brooks asked.

  “267-999-0902.”

  He tried not to get excited about the possibility of stopping Kym Devers in her deceitful and scandalous tracks. It was bad enough that she had incriminating tapes on him. She also had screwed over his son, and beat him out of over $20,000, including $1500 for a bogus abortion. Poor Ricky, Jr. was still crushed over the death of his first born.

  Brooks’ next call was to Johnson. “Johnson, we might have a situation on our hands. Kym Devers is being accused of tampering with the supervision fees of one of her clients. Actually, his mother called, angry and inquiring about the amount of fees being charged. She also said that when Devers comes over she stays too long. I’m not sure what is going on, but I think it’s worth looking into.”

  It was the beginning of the six-month investigation into Kym Devers. The Special Investigative Office had listened in on her telephone calls from the office, and followed her in unmarked County vehicles. While they were not the FBI, and didn’t have the funds or technology to bug her home and private calls, they maintained an ever-growing file on their rogue probation officer.

  The lead investigator was hoping to go to the District Attorney with the evidence, and get a warrant for Devers’ financial records, a home phone tap, and search of her Alice Street home.

  Brooks tried not to make it look like he cared one way or another, but his heart was pounding, and his stomach had the familiar pit in it at the mere thought of Kym Devers, and what she could do to his future.

  CHAPTER 8

  Agent Johnson thumbed through the file on Devers. They were this close to catching her. Even closer to prosecution, if the gods of law and justice were on their side. They knew about the extortion. They knew she was having some kind of inappropriate sexual contact with many of the men on her caseload. Then she pulled her County weapon on their man, Serrano, and violated him back to prison. Now her gun was missing, and she had filed a police report on a home invasion that nev
er happened.

  It was almost a damn shame that it had come to this with Devers. She was a damn good P.O. when she wanted to be. Devers had a good rapport with her probationers and their families. Maybe too much of a rapport, Johnson thought. He had even considered her somewhat of a confidant in the past.

  Johnson knew that Brooks was smitten with Devers; there was obviously more there than supervisor and subordinate. Johnson wasn’t sure of how much had gone down with them, but there was much more than Rick Brooks was telling.

  Johnson wondered if it might be worth it to look into Rick Brooks’ situation as well. He wasn’t looking well these days…stress, bad diet, and bad women. Brooks had mentioned to him that Rick, Jr. might be expecting a baby. That sounded like a stressful diet of bad women.

  ***

  Johnson read the reports as they started coming in on Devers. I know the bitch is not this stupid. Deposits made into five different accounts of three different banks, and one credit union. Over $75,000 deposited throughout 2008 alone. With a salary of $39,900, there was no way Kym Devers could account for the large sums of money in her accounts.

  They’d pulled the phone bills for her home, private and County cell phones for the last six months. Devers had been a busy woman. Phone calls to and from the men on her caseload at varying times throughout the day and night. Recorded visits to their homes in her 2007 Jaguar and the 2009 Charger. Recordings of her leaving their homes at two and three in the morning dressed provocatively; as if her varied usual state of dress wasn’t bad enough. She’d always pushed the envelope with her work attire, but never enough to trigger the radar. In these pictures, she looked more like a madam or a stripper creeping from a late-night fuck.

  She really was a stupid bitch, Johnson thought. There was no way she could explain the maid costume or the cat-o-nine tails she was gripping in one picture as she left the house of #074268 - D. Smythe. Johnson looked closer at the dates stamped on the recordings and pictures. Most of the visits to Serrano and Smythe were from five months ago. Once Serrano was violated, the visits were mostly between Smythe and Douglas.

  Devers was not just a stupid bitch, Johnson thought, she was also apparently a stupid whore as well. Good dick is definitely hard to come by, but damn, pimping yourself out to former convicts and extorting them was idiotic. Most of them didn’t work, and when they did, it was minimum wage, $7.25 if they were lucky. Devers must have been hitting them hard to amass $75,000 over the course of one year. She had to know that someone would be watching and questioning.

  ***

  After reading the email from the CNETWK center, Brooks’ first call was to Johnson. “Douglas was arrested last night by the Philadelphia Police Department. He’s currently at Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility on a detainer by State Parole and our warrant,” he said.

  “What?” Johnson asked.

  “Yeah, the same Douglas from your reports on Devers. Get this, he was arrested for two counts of VUFA-without a license and on the streets, eluding the police and resisting arrest. They ran the serial number; its Kym’s County issued weapon. This is his third VUFA arrest since he came home. Somehow he slipped through the last time and made bail. We don’t know if Devers knew about the new charges. Maybe he was paying her to stay out of jail. Either way, we got her, Johnson. Let’s see her get out of this one,” Brooks said.

  Johnson was outraged. “Get him out of jail right now! I want him out of CFCF, released from that Parole detainer, and in our custody within two hours! We’ve got to talk to him before he disappears for good. He had to have been there when she lost her weapon. Maybe he was in her house on Alice Street, and took it after he fucked her senseless. Who the fuck knows! We’ll offer him a deal to talk. This is his third strike without a license, he’ll do whatever we want him to do.”

  Brooks felt the first stirrings of his luck returning. “I’m on it, Johnson,” he said.

  “Get him out now, Rick!” Johnson demanded.

  ***

  Johnson looked at the reports on Devers again. She had an apartment in the Logan section of Philly. Odd, since she had a home in West Oak Lane. Also, the Jaguar purchase was missing from her credit report. That car was too expensive for her to afford on her own. There had to be someone they were missing in Devers’ life; probably someone right under their noses. Johnson took a chance and ran Rick Brooks’ credit report.

  CHAPTER 9

  “You a junkie for this dick, ain’t you, Devers?” Diesel asked.

  “You wasn’t talkin’ that shit a minute ago, was you, Smythe?” Kym laughed as she fingered the wad of $5’s Diesel had come through with.

  He was a broke nigga, but right now, he was her nigga. They were laying in the full-sized bed in his master bedroom of the apartment she signed for last month. She was officially dick-whipped.

  “I gotta admit it, you got me right where you want me,” Kym said.

  “No, an hour ago I had you where I wanted you; ridin’ my dick, slappin’ that wet ass on me like you know.” He laughed and pinched her nipples. “A half hour ago, I had you where I wanted you, gaggin’ on my dick.”

  “Yeah, well, I gotta go. I work for a living, and I gotta take care of my field notes, Smythe. You know I still gotta do my job, whether your dick is involved or not. And no more inviting your cousin into the mix without checkin’ with me first. I got love for Kuron, but sometimes y’all ‘lil ménage be more than a bitch can take.” Kym got up to slink back into her Kay Unger New York knit jersey.

  He wasn’t having that just yet. “You know, Devers, I think you need a facial. You sure you can’t stay?”

  Diesel was back on her. He knew Kym’s weakness was in her liquid river. Her box was so hot she could only be cooled by him. He knew about the other niggas who bounced in and out of his liquid. He knew other niggas pockets ran way deeper than his. Over the time they spent, he told her she’d be stupid not to take the cash. He damn sure couldn’t give it to her, why not let them fools pay. She always came back to him.

  “Let me talk, to you, ma,” he said.

  Kym knew what ‘talking’ meant. She couldn’t remember when the fuckfest had changed to his tune, but right then she didn’t care either. Diesel sat her on the back of the couch, her legs cocked open, pussy swollen from taking two dicks all night long. He slid one finger into her lips and swirled it around her button.

  “You liked it when Kuron was up in this pussy last night, didn’t you?” Diesel worked around her nether lips, his tongue pausing to invade her sugary walls in between words.

  Kym knew not to say anything. She was getting fucked before she left, and she couldn’t wait. Her Kay Unger dress was forgotten, a balled up heap in the corner.

  Diesel continued. “He nice, ‘cause I wouldn’t let just any nigga share my liquid river and talk shit while he in it too. I know you like his dick. I know you love this one also.”

  Diesel talked his way into her pussy, his mouth working on all the right angles, as all the right talk flew from his mouth.

  “Juicy bitch, ain’t you?” He slurped at her clit. He licked her outer lips before diving head first into the sweet nectar. “Nasty bitch, ain’t you?” He slipped in the back to tongue-fuck her asshole. “Dirty bitch like two dicks together.” He twisted her around. Her head was smashed against the mirror behind the couch, trying to get him deeper into her pussy. The liquid river was overflowing.

  “Diesel, fuck me.” Kym still couldn’t get over his name. That shit just wasn’t normal, but good dick was good dick.

  Her hands were fighting him to get inside her shit. Diesel fingered her clit, while she fingered her hole. She grabbed his head, pressing his tongue deep inside, contracting her muscles around his tongue, but it wasn’t enough.

  Kym loved niggas who knew their way around a wet pussy. She loved tongues, fingers, dicks and dildos. She slid around onto her knees and propped her ass up in the air. Her hands spread her ass cheeks wide. Her two-toned crack was moist from friction.

  “Fuck me,
convict,” she demanded.

  He knew what to do, knew what she wanted. He wet her ass up by spitting in the crack. Back when they started, he could barely get his dick wet; she had him strapped up with two condoms. Now he ran the show. His dick split her asshole wide open, ran up in it like his name was on it. He got stuck halfway through the darkness.

  “Open up for me. Give it back to me, bitch,” Diesel said. She opened up and spread wide. “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Lemme talk to you.” And talk he did. His words opened her wider.

  Long, slow strokes filled her, his dick sliding in more. Kym gripped him from behind and flowed to their rhythm. She pulled him deeper into her. She couldn’t get him in far enough. There was heat, but her flame was peaking and waning. His talk was usually enough, but it wasn’t enough this time. Her pussy throbbed from the friction in her ass. Kym’s body pulsated, but the fire was low.

  “Fuck me, convict. Fuck this pussy, Diesel. Beat this shit up.” She stopped the flow until he dragged his dick outta her back hole.

  Twisting her around, he pushed his dick into her mouth, fresh from her ass. Kym knew bitches got stupid when it came down to eating their own. Fuck that. If you knew your own ass and pussy was clean…

  “Talk to me, Diesel. Make me cum all ova this dick,” she moaned, licking the tip of his dick, tasting herself on him.

  She started deep throating, giving him slow, controlled head, taking all of him in. Kym knew her head game was tight. He was fucking her mouth, and she was finger fucking herself, getting wetter each time she gagged. She felt his veins contract and swell with semen.

  He was caught in ecstasy. “Don’t play, Kym, suck it right,” he said.

  Diesel worked his dick outta her mouth and stroked it in his hands. He watched the liquid pool in between her thighs as he stroked harder. He couldn’t wait to get inside.