HarleyThe all-too-familiar, excruciating sickness consumes my body quickly, jolting me awake from a drug-induced slumber. I bolt upright, sore as fuck and sick as fuck, frantically scanning the room, realizing I am in my bed. And I have no fucking idea how I got here. The last thing I can remember is being with him.Brixton. What a fucking sexy name. It fits him perfectly, and I love how it sounds on the tip of my fucking tongue. He must love it too. Why else would he have fucked me like a goddamn animal the moment his name escaped my lips last night? What did he mean that what we did was going to change everything?As I climb out of bed and away from the warmth of the blanket that has been wrapped around me, I try to think of an answer to my question. I only realize the blanket I was wrapped in is not mine when I drop to the ground to pick up my box. It's his. I would wrap myself in it and infuse my nose with his scent if I were not currently convulsing from sickness. I take out my
Brixton***As she lowers herself against my body, her soft brown hair sweeps across my bare chest. My hand finds her throat and squeezes it, relishing the sensation of her veins pulsing frantically against my fingers. My grasp extends to her hair, which I fist, craning her neck and exposing her delicate throat to me. I express my rage by seizing her lips and kissing her ravenously—***I'm awakened by the ferocious wind hammering against my window. And then I hear them—the distinct sound of my little bird's cries. The roaring breeze broke up the dream I was having about the things that happened last night. I can hear her from inside my room, despite the fact that we are a few apartments apart from one another. I bolt out of bed, noticing the rain barreling down outside... again. Is this shit ever going to clear up? Fuck. I get out of my warm bed and feel a bitter chill spread across my body. I shiver as a strong whiff of Harley's scent that is still clinging to my skin hits me. My cock
HarleyIt's been a week now, and I haven't seen Scotty or Brixton since that morning in my apartment. I'm worried, but at the same time, I'm not. Brixton is my biggest concern, not Scotty. He draws me to him in a way similar to how a moth is drawn to a flame. I'm addicted to him, and without him, I can't function-just like an addict and his bag of fucking drugs. I've been staying away from my apartment as well, and have made a lot of money from spending all of my time at the club. I'm not sure what to do with it. While moving has crossed my mind, I'm not yet ready to let Alec go in that way. I've considered returning to school, but my drug problem is far too fucking severe for any hope of normalcy. I've even considered switching fucking jobs again, but for some reason, I find it difficult to leave the life I've fallen into. I crave the risk and danger that it entails. It's the only thing that makes me feel alive. I feel a sense of comfort and safety in the crime that riddles my surrou
Chapter 11: Two Choices (three part chapter)BrixtonI don’t like to watch people sleep, but I can’t seem to shake the trance I’m in while excessively adoring how my little bird looks while she is sleeping. She’s sporting a slim wife beater and a set of my form-fitting boxer briefs. My cock is solid as a fucking rock and itches and throbs to be inside of her once more in response to the sight. However, I want to get it right this time. Last night when we fucked, I rushed it, all because I wanted to come that second. Now, the next time, right after I wake her up, I’m going to show her how good I can make her feel with my mouth by eating her pretty pussy and fucking it with my tongue. I want to demonstrate to her the extent of what my fucking fingers are capable of doing to her. This time, I will suck her release right out of her tight little hole, and I’ll use my cock to ruin her pussy for any other fucking man. I will fuck her in ways that will make her forget about Alec and have her
Brixton"Brixton, move your gun away from my face. This shit isn't funny." My little bird begs, her voice cracking as she tries to keep her tears at bay and fight the rush of emotion barreling through her. She's so fucking sexy when she's completely at my fucking mercy, and I wouldn't want it any other fucking way. Changing the subject altogether, I keep my gun pressed against her body, but I move it down her cheek, gliding it along her neck until I get to her tits. Her hard nipples poke against the fabric of my wife beater, the thin cotton making them perfectly noticeable. I lick the water off my lips as saliva pools in my mouth. With my free hand, I adjust my cock, grin at Trig again, and pierce my gaze back into my little bird as I run the barrel of my gun over her tits, watching intently as her chest heaves hard."Is that better?" I smirk, evil in my tone, but I can't help the peril spilling from my lips."No, I don't want your gun on me at all. It scares me.""Would you rather my
| Harley |After leaving Brixton, with him and Trigger passed out on his bed, I snuck out of his apartment and bolted back to mine. With slices, bite marks, and bruises all over my body, you’d think I’d gotten into a fight or something. But I didn’t. No, those two monsters destroyed my body in every way they could while still giving me the best pleasure I’ve ever felt. But will I ever admit that to Brixton and Scotty? Probably not. Why give them the satisfaction? Luckily, my apartment is only a few doors down from Brixton’s, so it doesn’t take me long to get home. The first thing I do is get in the fucking shower, wanting to wash all of their cum-and mine and all the blood off me that Brixton smeared all over my skin. He said he was painting a masterpiece, whatever that fucking means.The water rains down on my achy body; hot, hard droplets pelt my skin, feeling like burning coals. My hair falls in soaked strings over my shoulders, cascading down my back and covering the marks from Br
BrixtonSitting in the interrogation room with my hands cuffed to the table, I curse Trig up and down loud enough for the fucking cops behind the two way glass to hear every fucking word. I don't give a shit. He got me into this fucking mess and when things got hot, his ass took off and ran, leaving me behind to deal with the aftermath. Fucking coward. I refused to say a word when they brought me in, but I didn't put up a fight—I didn’t need a resisting charge added to my shit; it wouldve given me more fucking time.But as I sit here—not even thinking about the fuck up I just did while already on fucking parole—my future isnt what's on my mind. I can't stop thinking about my little bird and thoughts about not seeing her again really start to fuck with me, sending panic rushing right to my head.The door suddenly opens and the arresting officer walks in with a seriously pissed off look on his face as he comes over and unlocks the cuffs around my wrists, not saying a word as he does i
A stalker, age-gap dark romanceHarley Savage- She's a small-town girl, who just turned twenty-two, with a head full of ambiguous dreams that reach as high as the stars. However, one incident in her life changes everything, including the once positive outlook she had on things.After her world gets turned upside down by the murder of her brother and her boyfriend, she begins to spiral and eventually loses the sparkle that used to brighten her glimmering blue eyes.She distances herself from her family and friends and finds comfort in the dark, sinister street life.Enter him…Brixton Steele- He watched her long before the murder that took away the loves of her life, but he kept himself in the shadows, lurking, making sure to keep his identity a secret, especially from her.At thirty-five, he's a big city man with a rather unsavory childhood, which has landed him in prison for most of his adult life.She caught his eye at the bookstore one night, and ever since, he hasn't been able to
BrixtonSitting in the interrogation room with my hands cuffed to the table, I curse Trig up and down loud enough for the fucking cops behind the two way glass to hear every fucking word. I don't give a shit. He got me into this fucking mess and when things got hot, his ass took off and ran, leaving me behind to deal with the aftermath. Fucking coward. I refused to say a word when they brought me in, but I didn't put up a fight—I didn’t need a resisting charge added to my shit; it wouldve given me more fucking time.But as I sit here—not even thinking about the fuck up I just did while already on fucking parole—my future isnt what's on my mind. I can't stop thinking about my little bird and thoughts about not seeing her again really start to fuck with me, sending panic rushing right to my head.The door suddenly opens and the arresting officer walks in with a seriously pissed off look on his face as he comes over and unlocks the cuffs around my wrists, not saying a word as he does i
| Harley |After leaving Brixton, with him and Trigger passed out on his bed, I snuck out of his apartment and bolted back to mine. With slices, bite marks, and bruises all over my body, you’d think I’d gotten into a fight or something. But I didn’t. No, those two monsters destroyed my body in every way they could while still giving me the best pleasure I’ve ever felt. But will I ever admit that to Brixton and Scotty? Probably not. Why give them the satisfaction? Luckily, my apartment is only a few doors down from Brixton’s, so it doesn’t take me long to get home. The first thing I do is get in the fucking shower, wanting to wash all of their cum-and mine and all the blood off me that Brixton smeared all over my skin. He said he was painting a masterpiece, whatever that fucking means.The water rains down on my achy body; hot, hard droplets pelt my skin, feeling like burning coals. My hair falls in soaked strings over my shoulders, cascading down my back and covering the marks from Br
Brixton"Brixton, move your gun away from my face. This shit isn't funny." My little bird begs, her voice cracking as she tries to keep her tears at bay and fight the rush of emotion barreling through her. She's so fucking sexy when she's completely at my fucking mercy, and I wouldn't want it any other fucking way. Changing the subject altogether, I keep my gun pressed against her body, but I move it down her cheek, gliding it along her neck until I get to her tits. Her hard nipples poke against the fabric of my wife beater, the thin cotton making them perfectly noticeable. I lick the water off my lips as saliva pools in my mouth. With my free hand, I adjust my cock, grin at Trig again, and pierce my gaze back into my little bird as I run the barrel of my gun over her tits, watching intently as her chest heaves hard."Is that better?" I smirk, evil in my tone, but I can't help the peril spilling from my lips."No, I don't want your gun on me at all. It scares me.""Would you rather my
Chapter 11: Two Choices (three part chapter)BrixtonI don’t like to watch people sleep, but I can’t seem to shake the trance I’m in while excessively adoring how my little bird looks while she is sleeping. She’s sporting a slim wife beater and a set of my form-fitting boxer briefs. My cock is solid as a fucking rock and itches and throbs to be inside of her once more in response to the sight. However, I want to get it right this time. Last night when we fucked, I rushed it, all because I wanted to come that second. Now, the next time, right after I wake her up, I’m going to show her how good I can make her feel with my mouth by eating her pretty pussy and fucking it with my tongue. I want to demonstrate to her the extent of what my fucking fingers are capable of doing to her. This time, I will suck her release right out of her tight little hole, and I’ll use my cock to ruin her pussy for any other fucking man. I will fuck her in ways that will make her forget about Alec and have her
HarleyIt's been a week now, and I haven't seen Scotty or Brixton since that morning in my apartment. I'm worried, but at the same time, I'm not. Brixton is my biggest concern, not Scotty. He draws me to him in a way similar to how a moth is drawn to a flame. I'm addicted to him, and without him, I can't function-just like an addict and his bag of fucking drugs. I've been staying away from my apartment as well, and have made a lot of money from spending all of my time at the club. I'm not sure what to do with it. While moving has crossed my mind, I'm not yet ready to let Alec go in that way. I've considered returning to school, but my drug problem is far too fucking severe for any hope of normalcy. I've even considered switching fucking jobs again, but for some reason, I find it difficult to leave the life I've fallen into. I crave the risk and danger that it entails. It's the only thing that makes me feel alive. I feel a sense of comfort and safety in the crime that riddles my surrou
Brixton***As she lowers herself against my body, her soft brown hair sweeps across my bare chest. My hand finds her throat and squeezes it, relishing the sensation of her veins pulsing frantically against my fingers. My grasp extends to her hair, which I fist, craning her neck and exposing her delicate throat to me. I express my rage by seizing her lips and kissing her ravenously—***I'm awakened by the ferocious wind hammering against my window. And then I hear them—the distinct sound of my little bird's cries. The roaring breeze broke up the dream I was having about the things that happened last night. I can hear her from inside my room, despite the fact that we are a few apartments apart from one another. I bolt out of bed, noticing the rain barreling down outside... again. Is this shit ever going to clear up? Fuck. I get out of my warm bed and feel a bitter chill spread across my body. I shiver as a strong whiff of Harley's scent that is still clinging to my skin hits me. My cock
HarleyThe all-too-familiar, excruciating sickness consumes my body quickly, jolting me awake from a drug-induced slumber. I bolt upright, sore as fuck and sick as fuck, frantically scanning the room, realizing I am in my bed. And I have no fucking idea how I got here. The last thing I can remember is being with him.Brixton. What a fucking sexy name. It fits him perfectly, and I love how it sounds on the tip of my fucking tongue. He must love it too. Why else would he have fucked me like a goddamn animal the moment his name escaped my lips last night? What did he mean that what we did was going to change everything?As I climb out of bed and away from the warmth of the blanket that has been wrapped around me, I try to think of an answer to my question. I only realize the blanket I was wrapped in is not mine when I drop to the ground to pick up my box. It's his. I would wrap myself in it and infuse my nose with his scent if I were not currently convulsing from sickness. I take out my
Chapter 10: Brixton's Sick LoveBrixtonI briefly glimpse the sparkle Harley used to fucking have when I look into her eyes. The one that drew me in the first time I saw her. It flashes briefly in her eyes before disappearing just as quickly. If I hadn't been fucking staring right into them, I might have missed it. I lean back and watch her shoot, noticing her eyes roll back as the intense rush hits her all at once. Her body settles against the back of the couch as her lids flutter in contentment and a smile curls along her painted lips. Taking advantage of her closed eyes, I adjust the uncomfortable bulge in my crotch, attempting to conceal the massive erection I'm sporting."You okay over there, little bird?" "I'm fucking great, B. All thanks to you."As she rolls the word off the tip of her tongue, she slurs, lust dripping from her voice. My cock twitches, and moisture seeps into the fabric of my shorts. She pulls her bottom lip in between her pearly white teeth as her eyes slowly
Chapter 9: Harley's Sick LoveOctoberHarleyMy vision is blurred by the strobe lights as I seductively climb the shiny pole with both hands while eye-fucking the audience. When I reach the top, I wrap my legs around it and let myself fall. As I sway back and forth to the beat of the music blasting from the speakers, my hair sweeps across the stage. I twirl my body around the pole while still hanging upside down as Ride by Ciara hums in my ears and my hips methodically follow the beat. I see Stacks watching my routine from the back corner of the club, his eyes glistening with admiration and approval. Bills flutter throughout the air, cascading over the stage from the hungry men applauding my moves. I lose myself in the music and allow it to carry me to a soothing place free from suffering or loss. When my set ends and I walk off stage, flirtatiously waving to the cheering crowd, I run into Stacks on my way to the dressing room."Great fucking job, Savage. The fucking crowd loves you."