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Ain't Your Bitch (Interracial Urban Erotica)(162)

By:Asia Marquis


"What, not enough profiling crap?"

"Too much. He was either sexually frustrated, or he was a sexual sadist,  and he liked his mother too much, or not enough. The damn  head-shrinkers had us jumping at every opportunity. Not enough solid  police-work. But by the time I get ahold of the case, even the most  recent murder sites are weeks old. Most of them years old. The trail's  cold."

"So, what, you wait around until another one comes along, is that it?"

"Not exactly, no. We had bait set up to try to catch the next guy, but  come on. Looking for a creep on an online dating site is like looking  for a needle in a field of needle-stacks, you know that."

"Sure. So the end result is, though, you can't catch the guy soon  enough, so you have to rely on trying to catch him when he strikes  again."

"You're not totally wrong."

"Why the vacation?"

"It's important to get away sometimes. To make sure that you have a clear head. Why? You don't believe in being away a little?"

"I believe in closing cases and getting my work done."

They had seated already, a waitress watching them talk from the front counter but not coming to take their orders yet.

"Of course, don't we all? But that's not really a fair picture to paint,  and I think you know that. It's just not feasible to do that sort of  thing all the time. There's always another case. Always more work to do.  You can run yourself ragged, never stopping, but at some point, are you  hurting the work you're doing?"

"It never hurt my work. I kept a near-perfect clear rate, and of those, conviction rates-well, they are what they are."

"So, not as great as you wanted?"

"That's not on my head," Jamelia growled, flicking a curl out of her  face a little too sharply. "It's the District Attorney's job at that  point."

"That's sweet," Roy said. He looked up at the woman who had finally approached. "Could I get the Teriyaki Chicken, white rice?"

Jamelia ordered just a bit of fried rice. She still wasn't very hungry, after all. 'Big breakfast,' she claimed.

"I don't want to fight with you, Jamelia. I think we're close to making a  break. If we're lucky, we can get whoever took your sister before he  takes someone else." He leaned in close. "So I need you to stay away  from that guy. That Hutchinson guy. I think he's dangerous, and I don't  want to see you get hurt."

"Okay," she said, electing not to mention that he'd been inside her earlier that day. "Done. Anything else?"





Fifteen



Jamelia's breath caught in her chest. She hadn't left her door open. She  reached for the pistol that should have been at her hip. Nothing. She  closed her eyes a moment to run through her options.

She had the pepperbox in her purse. That would be enough. She took it  out of its holster and hefted it in her hand. Quickly practiced pulling  it up into line, and then dropped it to the floor. Finger off the  trigger. Safety off. Okay. She put her shoulder down and knocked the  door open hard enough to hurt if someone was hiding behind it.

The door knocked loudly into the wall as she sailed past, checking the  inside corner before continuing. Nothing in the kitchen area. Nothing in  the living area. Nothing in the dining area. The front room was empty.  Which left the uncomfortable choice. Bathroom or bedroom? She'd have to  walk right past the open door to one to get at the other.

Too dangerous. Too dangerous by a long shot. Jamelia pressed her back  against the wall, surveyed the room. Empty. It was time to pick. She  turned back into the hall and shouldered open the door to the bedroom,  brought the pistol up hard.

"Honey, I'm home."

Craig smiled at her from his seat at the head of the bed, his back pressed against the headboard.

Jamelia cursed. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you wanted to see me," he said, mimicking a pout. "Are you  saying that you don't want to spend time with me any more?"

"I'm saying that you don't get to come into my apartment any time you damn well please."

"But it was so fun."

"Get out. You want to come see me, you tell me first."

"Fine. Here, I thought I was doing you a favor here. Trying to teach you an important lesson about personal safety."

He slipped off the bed as she told him to get out, slowly taking the  walk across the room. He stepped closer to her until her back was  pressed against the wall, their bodies pressed together.

Jamelia could feel the gun pressed between them, as well. She wanted to  pull the trigger. Wished that she had, more than ever. This was the guy  who did it. She was sure. It was definitely the guy.

"Where you been, out in a dress like this?"

"It was laundry day," she answered. "Get out of my apartment."

Jamelia's phone buzzed.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"No," Craig laughed. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't nothing. You got someone texting you? One of your girlfriends, maybe?"

"Maybe," she answered. "Get out of my apartment."

Craig reached between them, forcing a gasp out of Jamelia's lips as he  ran a hand up her thigh, grazing over her mound. Even through the fabric  of her dress, she could feel the desire already mounting.

His hand kept moving until it closed around the barrel of her pistol.  She should have fought for it, but she didn't. Instead she let Craig  take it. He stepped back a bit, turned his hand over.

"Nice piece." He tossed it on the bed. "I just came by because I realized I hadn't tried your mouth yet."

"I told you to get out."

"But you're not going to make me, are you?"

"Fuck you. Get out."

"Get on your knees." Craig's voice didn't raise, and he didn't sound angry, but the way he said it made her obey.

He unzipped his cock. The memory of that cock inside her, only a couple hours ago, made her head go a little bit light.

"You know what to do next," he growled.

Had her sister done this same thing? Jamelia wondered. She forced  herself not to think about it. Instead, she took it in one hand, jerking  it experimentally. Craig took a fist-full of her thick hair and started  pushing. She hated it. Or, she should have. She knew she should have,  even as she took his cock deeper in her mouth, letting her tongue swirl  around the head.

Instead, she found herself preening when she heard him whisper "Oh, fuck."

She found herself wanting it. This wasn't right, she wasn't like this.  But it didn't change that she started bobbing her head faster, deeper,  anything to get him to lose control just a little bit more. To feel  herself getting the control she wanted.

"God damn, girl."

She slurped and sucked as hard as she could, pulling him out of her mouth with a soft pop. "Do you like that?"

His fingers dug into her hair harder. "Shut up and suck my cock."

She shut up and sucked his cock, bobbing her head. Enjoying the feeling  of him thrusting back to meet her even as she resented the hell out of  herself for it. She shouldn't have enjoyed this. The guy was exactly who  she didn't need to get involved with, but here she was, kneeling and  acting like his personal slut.         

     



 

She could feel his movements getting less rhythmic, could feel him  trying to force harder as he approached his climax. He held her head  still, now, fucking her face, his cock trying to penetrate her throat  with every thrust. He pushed in deep and she could feel him spasming as  he sent rope after rope of cum shooting down her throat.

She came up coughing as he pulled himself out in time to shoot another  rope of cum that traced a line from her chin down to where her pretty  dress covered her tits.

"Good girl."

Jamelia growled. "Get out of my apartment."

"I'll be back," he said. "I'll see you next time."

She leaned back against the door, more angry with herself for looking  forward to it. What the fuck was wrong with her? This wasn't about sex,  and it certainly wasn't about relationships.

She was trying to catch the bastard who was killing these women. Craig  showed every sign of being capable of it. She reached her hand down,  pulled her dress up. Instead, she was like a bitch in heat.

She didn't waste any time with getting herself ready. She was already as  ready as she could be. If he'd decided to come back in and please  himself with her pussy-she pushed the thought away. It wasn't about him.  Wasn't about what he wanted.

She needed to feel release, needed the sweet oblivion of an orgasm to  wipe away the arousal that she didn't want to feel any more.

Her fingers moved in quick, short circles, forcing the orgasm out  through her fingers. Forcing the pleasure out of herself. She let out a  soft moan, and then a louder one. It didn't matter if he left the door  open. The only thing that mattered was what she needed, now.

She could feel her orgasm approaching fast. She pinched a sensitive  nipple, another shock of pleasure to add to the whirlwind of need that  was building up in her belly as she played with her pussy.

Her body got tense as she raced over the edge of oblivion, circling her  clit hard and fast and chasing the pleasure as far as the trail would  go. Finally she slumped over.