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Even the low light of the strip club and the gin I just tossed back doesn’t make it more palatable.
So maybe the problem isn’t my useless dick, but the hit to the head I took today. You’d think after a couple years of underground boxing I’d be used to it, but that fucker had a mean right hook. I guess we did go into his house while he was having dinner with his family and gently suggested he come with us. And by gentle, I mean using a knife instead of a gun.
Any other day, I wouldn’t care what color her lingerie is.
I’d only be concerned with how easily she’d let me peel it from her body. Or if she’d let me push her to the floor and wipe that ugly matching gloss from her lips with the head of my cock.
The vixen gives me an eye fuck that tells me she wouldn’t protest if I slid her thong to the side, buried my cock inside her greedy cunt, and fucked her well into tomorrow. She doesn’t look like she gives two shits if we have an audience, and quite frankly, neither do I.
These guys—Riggs, Wayland, and Axe—have had my back more than once this past year, and I have theirs. They’ve seen me at my worst and didn’t even bat an eye.
If we can torture together, we can fuck together. I’ve got nothing to hide.
Too bad it’s not an option, since apparently my dick has decided we’re not fucking anyone tonight.
It’s a shame too. This girl looks like she’d be fun to play with.
She pinches her dark brown nipples, tossing her head back on a throaty moan as she rotates her hips and straddles my lap. Her hands trail across my shoulders and snake through my hair, pulling the strands hard enough to let me know she likes to play rough.
That makes two of us.
With every little movement, every sway to the beat of the song, her breasts brush across my chest, and I can feel those damn hard nipples of hers through my t-shirt.
Still nothing.
My dick remains completely unmoved in my jeans.
Not even a fucking twitch.
Maybe I took a harder punch to the head than I thought.
“What’s your name, sweet pea?” She smiles at me, her tongue darting out to lick along her bright pink lips.
Sweet pea. My jaw tics as I stretch my arms along the back of the couch. My muscles flex under my t-shirt and she eats it up, her wide eyes glued to my body, watching every little move.
She wouldn’t be calling me sweet pea if she knew what I could do with my bare hands. There’s not a sweet bone in my body. I’m meant to punish, to destroy, to fucking obliterate everyone and everything in my path.
I’ve been working for Phoenix long enough to know what kind of clientele his fancy club services, and these girls are used to dangerous men—men who aren't afraid to use their money and power to get whatever their black heart’s desire. I can’t help but wonder how many of them are willing to get their hands dirty.
Mine are filthy.
“Most people call me the Devil.” My voice is low and I run my tongue along my teeth before sucking my bottom lip into my mouth and biting down until I taste blood.
Her thin brows shoot to her hairline and her mouth falls open for a second, but she’s quick to recover, running a fingertip along the tattoos peeking out from the bottom of my sleeves and covering my forearm. “Why do they call you that?” Her hands are back to her breasts and she sticks out her bottom lip. I hate to tell her, but fake pouts don’t work on me. “The rules don’t apply back here in the VIP rooms. You can touch me if you want… or I can touch you.”
Her gaze flicks to Wayland, sitting in one of the chairs to my left, his pants undone as a blonde gags herself on his dick, and then to Axe and Riggs who have three girls between the two of them. Axe is bouncing one of them on his lap while Riggs is stroking himself, watching the other two girls sixty-nine on the small stage in front of him.
But since my cock is out of commission, I really should thank Phoenix King, the owner of this club and my current boss, for the nice evening and get the fuck back to my apartment.
No point sticking around here for nothing.
“Thanks…” I trail off, shifting underneath her and checking out the time on my watch.
It’s barely ten.
I’ve turned into an old man.
“Diamond,” she frowns, sticking out that bottom lip even more.
