Dark Mafia Queen – Ivy Larkspur

Justice comes back over to the cot and the front view is even more compelling than the back. More tattoos, when back in school she only had that lean, smoothly muscled body. The same small breasts, though now that I’ve felt them against my own body, it’s hard for me to think of them as anything but perfect.

Long limbs, perfect proportions, like she was carved from marble. She makes me want to light a candle, offer a hymn, start praying again, and none of it is the least bit holy. She comes to side of the bed and slides onto the mattress beside me. Then she washes off my face with a cloth, silently. But with what feels like so much tenderness that it makes everything inside of me clutch. I can’t tell if she sees me fighting to keep from reacting.

She makes another trip, then washes off my pussy, which only makes that hunger in me seem to coil to life all over again. I swear she knows it. She heads back to the sink and I watch her wash herself off, too. She comes back to the bed again and this time she stretches out beside me, propping herself up on one elbow.

I don’t know how to handle all the things I’m feeling, all at the same time. For one thing, she’s terrifying. That look on her face is mocking and murderous at once, and there’s absolutely no reason that I should find that hot. I actually know, better than most, exactly how unhinged she can be. I don’t need to know she’s killed people to get it. I knew her when she was the soft version of this—and Justice was never anything remotely like soft. My body, meanwhile, is in chaos.

There’s a slick heat between my legs, and I feel… jittery with longing. I want to ask her if she slipped me something that I’m unaware of, maybe while I was blacked out. Some kind of aphrodisiac that makes my entire body into this machine of lust, because I’ve never felt this way before. It’s never felt like a fever. I like sex. I like having it. It’s fun. This feels like a trial by fire, and I can’t decide if I want to lose or win or both.

The way she’s studying me, I get the distinct impression that it’s not going to be my decision. My cunt seems to find that molten hot, too. “Seems like you took to eating pussy pretty fast,” Justice says, eventually. In that mocking tone, like she knows everything that’s happening inside me before I do, and I hate it. But she’s still talking. “That’s not really party bi behavior.

You try making a girl come, knuckles deep in the hot, tight grip of her pussy in the darkest recesses of the banquette seats in the private area of the club, with half the made men in the family measuring their cocks at each other about three feet away from me. If it was literal cock measuring I would cut them all off with the knife in my boot.

Instead it’s the usual din of loud male voices, obnoxious male laughter, and that edge it all gets because no one in my vicinity is what you’d call a decent sort of man. They’d eat decent alive. We’re all villains here. We act like it too. It’s not easy with all the braying and peacocking, all of them pretending they’re not watching me with my hand in this girl’s shit, but I get her there.

She’s sobbing, her hips pumping into me while I stroke that spot inside her and keep the pressure on her clit. I found her in the bathroom downstairs, flushed from too many drinks and whatever shitty thing her punk ass boyfriend said to her that made her cry.

I got my tongue in her mouth while the hand dryers roared and my hands on her tits, torturing them only slightly more than the strapless bra she’s wearing. Then I lured her behind my velvet rope and had her humping my thigh before the song thumping in my ears changed.

That was the first time she came. The second time was when I leaned down and got my mouth on her neck and laughed when I told her I didn’t think she was all that straight. Her wet little pussy agreed. I personally don’t get off in the club. Not this club, anyway, because I fucking own it. There’s a level of decorum to maintain. But I sit back and lick the girl’s cream off my fingers while she’s still shuddering, looking around at my men as they posture all over the VIP room, acting like their dicks aren’t hard.

Acting like this is a social gathering instead of the usual Friday night information exchange in this dirty little city we call home.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 1548f4c53fcc8c5e
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 921,092 bytes (0.878 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 105
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 183.04 minutes
• Total Words: 36,608
• Total Characters: 191,666
• Average Words per Page: 348.65
• Average Characters per Page: 1825.39

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