"Murillo, yeah, he was the lawyer for one of the guys connected to that big sex trafficking case that hit the news not too long ago. I was just looking into him actually."
"Turns out the guy was hired by someone else to defend the container owner. I can't track down whom yet but I'm having my boys look into it. If you want to help maybe that would be a place for you to start. Something doesn't feel right about this lawyer being in the café at the same time a mass murder happens."
I agree and spend another few minutes talking to Roberts about what he is thinking about the case. As I do, I walk back to my shower and strip along the way. Both of us have other avenues to take the case and hang up with one another without really ending the call. We both know we'll be back in touch with the other sooner rather than later. Going back over our conversation and the file information helps me focus on anything but what my brain wants to focus on. Some part of my mind is looking at big brown eyes and wanting to fuck.
God, it's been forever since I fucked anything other than my hand. Years and years. I wasn't going to get frisky with one of the other inmates while I was locked up and when I came out I had serious trust issues. Being in a box with a bunch of people who would kill you for another piece of bread on their plate will do that to a person. Hell, even before I went in it wasn't like I was hitting everything that wore a skirt. I knew the tides of power were tipping, I could feel the change in the air. I wasn't about to let my guard down when everyone you meet could be out to collect the price on your head.
So, it's been a while. Maybe that is why the girl affected me as strongly as she did. I hear a knock on my door and lean my head out of the shower; I have cameras up right outside my door and wired to my laptop. I also have a camera set up at the front door and the stairwell. The face of the woman living across the hall from me is there in fish view. I groan and thunk my head on the cool tiles.
My theory about not getting laid is such a thin one. If I wanted something to fuck I could have had this female bent over the banister and got my dick wet every night of the week. Instead, I find her annoying and imagine having her put to sleep like a sick animal. Fucking Jenny. She has been trying to fuck me for years now. She would wait for me to come home if she saw me leave and one time I caught her going through my clothes in the laundry room. When I asked her what the hell she was doing she giggled like the bimbo she is and told me she just wanted to smell me. Thank God the clothes had already been cleaned. All she got was discount detergent and some dryer lent.
I let the water run off my neck and back, needing this quiet time to think things through. What’s nagging me so much about the crime scene photos? What am I missing? The water runs down my body but in my mind, I am thinking of quick little fingers doing the same thing. In my fucking head, I am picturing the blonde from today on her knees begging me to fuck her mouth harder.
I grunt and give in to what my body is demanding. It's not like this is the first time I've used the woman at the café to beat off to. It is the first time I have known her name. Kathryn, it just sounds proper and dignified. Unlike how I would want her if I had her here with me. I would want to split her beautiful full lips open with the broad shaft of my cock and feed it to her inch by slow inch until she was pushing at my thighs to make me back up. I would make her mascara run from forcing her to take just one more inch and then I would pull her up and fuck her raw until she couldn't touch her swollen pussy the next day without thinking of me.
Fuck I bet she's as soft on the inside as she is on the outside. When I was laying between her legs of the roof I almost said screw it all and just fucked her until she was screaming and crying for me and not because of what happened to her today. I bet I could have made her scream louder than any other man she has ever been with. Hell, I'm probably the roughest person she knows. I saw how she looked at me; I felt her eyes go to the tattoos that peek out of a shirt and jacket. I don't need to be a good girl's bad decision but fuck if I don't want to corrupt her a little.
Watching her take my cock, whether in her mouth or in her pretty cunt, would only be the first thing I would do to turn her white world into the same color mine is. I close my eyes and think about all of the things I could do to make her eyes grow large and shimmer with shock and just a hint of fear. Fucking her without a condom on would be just the start. Women like her don't do anything with a man like me until they've wrapped it up tighter than Christmas.
I wonder how experienced she is. Has she ever been pushed up against the wall and made to take it from behind? I groan at the memory of her ass nestled up against me. God it's been years since I fucked someone up the ass. I miss it, almost as badly as I miss sinking into the warm wet haven of a willing pussy. Taking her ass would be...such a pleasure. I bet a sweet little thing like her hasn't ever done anything like that before in her life. I could be her first.
Shit, my dick goes off with a jet of sperm and I cum so hard my balls hurt. Fuck, the girl can't be anywhere around me. I wouldn't stop until my cock was so far up inside of her she would never be able to get away from me. God help the person who tried to take her from me once I got my seed high enough to soak into her sweet womb. More cum spurts out at the idea of leaving something with the good little girl, an idea that has never in all of my sexually active years has ever come up.
Thank fuck she's old enough to be legal. I know what kind of man I am, her age wouldn't stop me. She could be as old as the two yoga ladies and I would still fuck her rotten. Speaking of the two yoga women I mentally flip back through the file and think about what Roberts said when he called me. Everyone at the café had been identified. Everyone at the café...
I'm jerking the curtain back without bothering to cut the water off. I grab my phone to make my call but I'm already trying to tug a shirt over my head. It isn't all that easy since I didn't wait to dry the fuck off. I go for the pictures and flip through them as I'm waiting. I expect to have to leave a message but Roberts answers before it can go to a voice mail.
"Yo?"
"The wallets, purses, and things that can identify the victims where are they?"
"I..."
I interrupt him, "Did you all take them before you took the pictures of the crime scene? Do you have them?"
"No. Nothing was touched before the C.S.I. guys came in to take the pictures."
"Fuck!" I don't wait for him to finish already half out my door.
"What? What the fuck have you found out?"
"They took everyone's identification cards as proof of death. It's easier to take a purse or wallet than a finger or an eyeball."
"I don't even want to ask how you know that." No, he really doesn't. "So? They took everyone's id. What about it?"
"Because one of those people isn't dead. She didn't have her fucking purse with her when I got her to the roof and unless she coughed over her license when you all were interviewing her, she doesn't have it now."