Page 1 of Kentrell

ONE

KENTRELL

Raven whimperedas I slammed into her, hitting every inch of her walls. She was the newest addition to Uncle Yam’s stable, and tonight, I was breaking her in. Not like a pimp—not in the way Yam or Pretty Kenny would’ve done it. This wasn’t about turning her out or showing her how to sell it. She was already halfway gone when I met her.

From the little she shared between moans and gasps, I picked up more than she realized. Naivety leaked out of every word she spoke—too damn eager to spill her life to a man she ain’t know. That mouth was fast, and her brain was slower, caught up in the thrill of being chosen. She told me she came from Gary, Indiana, which explained enough. Gary had its grime, sure. But it wasn’t Chicago. It wasn’t the jungle I grew up in. Over there, girls like her still thought they had time. Here? Time was currency—and running out meant blood on the pavement.

Raven was wild, though. I saw it in her walk before she even spoke. Loud, unapologetic, and clearly in this game for the money, not the survival. That made her dangerous—but not in a way I feared. In a way I could use. Her father being a pastor didn’t just give her that stereotypical preacher’s daughter edge—it explained the rebellion, the hunger, the way she craved the edge of ruin. It wasn’t just sex with her. It was a middle finger to everything that raised her.

And right now? She was riding that rebellion straight into my hands.

“Move that hand.” I growled as she tried to push back against me. “Now.”

My voice snapped like a whip, and she yanked it away quick, a shaky whimper slipping out as I drove in harder. We was nearing the end of our two weeks. After that, she’d get her five-day break to heal up before Yam tossed her on the stroll. He already had some old heads lined up—no surprise there. The younger the hoe, the more they paid. Raven was a teenage dream to these dusty muthafuckas.

Nineteen, easy. Pretty and eager to please.

No tracks on her arms, no cloudy eyes. She ain’t touch dope—everything she did, she chose to. And that body? Tight lil frame. Titties like ripe fruit, sitting perfect in my palms—she was maybe a C cup. Her waist was narrow, but that ass? Full and bouncy like it had its own gravity. Pussy stayed smooth—just two fat lips hugging her clit, glistening like she was born for this.

I ain’t gon’ lie—she had a pretty pussy. But I already knew this would be my last time in it. Six days from now, she’d be for the block. Not me.

“Mmm—shit!” she cried, her body trembling as I beat her back in.

“I can’t take no more!” she gasped, face buried in the mattress.

“You can take it.” I leaned in, breath warm on her ear, watching her crumble beneath me. She folded like paper. I gripped her sides tighter, riding that wave until my thighs cramped up. Then I pulled out and gave her ass a tap.

She knew what that meant.

Raven rolled over slow, straddling me, grinding in tight circles until her legs gave out. She shook once, twice—then collapsed beside me, spent and babbling.

“Sss—oooh, just gimme a minute,” she hissed, rolling over and catching her breath. “Damn, nigga, you be fucking me up,” she giggled, her voice fading into sleep.

I didn’t laugh. Just clenched my jaw, silent. Reached for the nightstand, lit up my blunt, and let the smoke settle in my chest.

Her ass was still tooted, one leg cocked, her mouth open like she forgot who she was. She was cute for now. I’d give her that moment. Let her rest while I faced this blunt.

But once it burned down… I was going back in to drain what’s left.

“Kentrell.”

The door creaked open and Star slid in like she owned the place, a grin teasing the corners of her mouth. Her giggle followed, light and playful, and I couldn’t help but half-smirk back.

“You so mean,” she purred, pinching her thumb and index finger together like she was measuring my patience. I passed her the blunt without a word.

Any other bitch? I’d have acted like she wasn’t even there. But Star was different.

She was a ho—but she had rules. Selective with her shit. Complicated. Maybe that’s what made her interesting. That, and the fact that she was Yam’s niece. She could’ve done anything else with her life, but she chose the game. Chose it the same way Kenwan did.

Hell, if I’m being honest, I think she the one that turned my little freaky-ass brother out.

“Damn, you take breaks now?” she asked, blinking through smoke as she peeped Raven still laid out, face down, ass out. “Shit, you be tryna kill me—must be nice!”

She leaned across me and slapped Raven’s ass, hard enough to make her flinch.

“Uh-un, ma. Getcho ass up.”

“Wait, Kentrell—please!” Raven slurred, trying to lift herself up. “You been fucking me since I got here.”

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