by Alexis Angel
You know, there has to be a God or someone up there for something so perfect to fucking exist.
Yeah, if you’re thinking of telling me that she used to be a porn star, you’re not telling me anything new. But fuck that. Think about what she’s put her mind to and accomplished, you know?
Model turned porn star, porn star turned strip club owner, and all by the age of twenty-six. She’s a special one, I have to give her that.
“No, I guess it doesn’t,” she answers my question, reaching for me and sliding her hand down my solid 8-pack wall of abs, until she rests it on my cock.
I’m already fucking hard as granite, my erection tenting the sheets, and I can tell she can’t fucking resist this shit.
And I’m all ready to be lewd right back with her. Yeah, baby. Come to fucking Daddy. I take one hand and put it between her thighs and flatten my palm against her pussy. She’s already wet and ready to go, now this is my kind of fucking woman.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m already on top of her, and she guides my cock to her wetness. I enter her with one thrust, my shaft struggling to get inside of her. She’s so tight that it’s hard to believe she used to be a porn star. I told you she was special.
I start thrusting as she laces her legs around my back, and we kiss just like we did yesterday, our tongues dancing in a frenzy around one another. I hear my phone buzzing on the bed stand—probably Maverick wondering where I am—but I ignore it. I have more pressing matters on my mind right now…
I have my cock in more important places.
“Don’t fucking stop,” she moans, her voice so sweet that I don’t even need to tell my body what to do.
Just hearing her sweet-as-pie voice say the word ‘fucking’ is enough to turn my knees to fucking jelly. She’s so dirty. Filthy. But in the body of a pure and pristine little angel that gets defiled each time.
I’m going to fucking cum if I keep talking to you about defiling her. Instead, I piston into her as hard as I can, and her pussy tightens up around my cock as she comes. That does it for me. There’s no escape now. I groan as I feel the cum travelling up my shaft and then spraying her insides. Now this is how you start your day.
I roll to the side, breathing hard, and just stare at the ceiling. I can hear her by my side, breathing as hard as I am, and I let myself be drawn by the sound of it. It wouldn’t be so bad to wake up and hear that every morning, would it?
“I’m late,” she whispers then, cutting through the silence. “And judging by the way your phone’s buzzing, I’d say you’re late as well.”
“Yeah,” I simply respond, sitting up on the bed and reaching for my phone. It’s Maverick alright, and he’s already left me three text messages wondering where the hell I am. I’m never late, so he’s already stressing. Calm your horses, the cavalry is on the way, I type quickly, and then swing my legs off the bed.
I take one last look at Destiny, her perfect naked body almost glowing with delight, and then get up with a sigh. It hurts to leave when I know we could still keep going at it, but it can’t be helped. I have responsibilities, you know?
The sex was so fucking great.
So why does this feel so awkward?
Hundreds of women are depending on me for entertainment and perhaps something more. “I’m going for a quick shower, you can--”
“Yeah, I have to shower as well,” she suddenly says, getting out of the bed completely naked. I look at her wide-eyed, not knowing what to tell her.
Well, fuck now it’s really awkward.
I could just tell her to join me but I’m not in the habit of post-sex niceties, to be honest, so I have to say I’m feeling a bit uneasy about that. So, instead of inviting her to join me, I just say that I’ll show her the bathroom.
I take her to the private bathroom in my bedroom, and a few minutes later we’re both standing under the warm running water, washing away our sins.
Yeah, not the same bathroom.
Don’t get your hopes up. She’s in my private bathroom, and I’m in the main one.
Fuck, I could be with her right now. But what would she think of that? I don’t want to come on to her too hard, which is kinda fucking ironic, if you take into account the way we fucked last night.
And what the fuck is wrong with me?
I never overthink these things.
For a fraction of a second, I imagine being under the running water with her, just showering like two regular people, and I even picture myself helping her fucking shampoo her hair. I must be running a fever, that has to be it.
To be absolutely honest with you, doll, I don’t think I ever remember the last time I ever wanted to be this close to a woman. And when I say close, I’m not talking about being physically close. It’s more than that.
Alright, let me fucking stop right here or next thing you know I’m writing poetry.
And you’ll just fucking snort, wondering what happened to make an alpha male bad boy into a mewling kitten.
Fuck that.
I’m over her.
I push all these rosy fucking thoughts out of my head and finish showering. Like a fucking man.
I put on a black suit and, by the time I’m finished getting ready, Destiny gets out of the bathroom looking completely stunning, even though she’s wearing her clothes from when I met her at 230 Fifth this afternoon.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I see her, and she raises one eyebrow at me.
“What?” she asks, and I don’t know what to tell her. I settle for the truth.
“You look amazing,” I say, and she arches her eyebrows even more.
“I’m not wearing any make-up, my hair is shit, and I’m wearing a creased dress,” she purses her lips, probably thinking that I’m messing with her, but I just grin.
“And you look fucking stunning,” I admit, no longer caring about what she thinks. “I guess that there’s actually a pretty woman under all that make-up.”
“Asshole,” she laughs, and then closes the distance between the two of us and punches me playfully in the arms.
“That’s me.” Without even thinking, I place my hands on her waist and pull her in, pressing my mouth on her. It’s just a short kiss, but the simplicity of it makes me wary.
I never bought all that romantic shit about magical kisses and unicorns, but there’s something about this woman that’s clouding my fucking mind. She’s dangerous like that, I can tell. I guess this is the way most women feel when they are with me. Yeah, I’m Mr. Cocky asshole, nice to meet you too.
“Shall we?” she asks me, and I nod.
We get out of the apartment in silence. We’re standing side by side when I press the button to summon the elevator and, as we’re waiting, my hands brush accidently against hers.
I feel her fingers twitch, and mine do so as well. The elevator opens with a quiet ding, and we step inside without even looking at each other. But then, as we face forward, our hands brush against one another again. This time I don’t fucking hesitate, I just turn my hand around and hold hers. She wraps her fingers around mine and, just like a fucking 16-year-old high-school couple discovering what sex and love really are, we hold hands as the elevator makes its way down.
Yeah, I can’t believe this is fucking happening.
I’ve had the sweetest women over in my apartment before Destiny, and some of them were even virgins, and now here I end up holding hands with a reformed porn star.
Maybe destiny is playing a trick on me… Which is kinda ironic, don’t you think? Destiny is using destiny to mess with my head. How’s that for the universe making a joke at your expense?
But, just between you and me, I don’t give a fuck if she used to be a porn star. I’ve never been a saint myself.
And she’s so fucking beautiful and confident, standing tall while most women are afraid of revealing their true selves…
No doubt about it.
This woman is a catch.
I’m just afraid that she might catch me as well.
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69
Destiny
“And now,” the voice on the speakers shouts out, “Destiny and Luxury!” The spotlight falls on me and on Luxury and the whole place goes crazy. Men are whistling, clapping, and yelling, cheering as if they've just won the lottery. As for me, well, just another day of work.
We’re both wearing nothing more than a skimpy bra and a matching thong, and that’s because we don’t want to waste any time; our show involves much more that just stripping, if you know what I mean.
The music starts, a deep bass and a steady beat, and our bodies are like two matching pieces, linked by something more than just the physical side of things. I’ve known Lux, her real name is Anna, but she goes by Luxury in here, for a few years now, and it’s always special whenever the two of us put on a show for customers.
And since every man with too much money for their own good always seems eager to spend top dollar to see us together, I can’t help but ‘work’ with her even though I own the place.
You don’t say no to easy money and, besides, it’s always fun with Lux. Today we’re hosting a bachelor party, and the group has booked the side room and its stage just for them.
I’m standing in front of Lux, our bodies swaying to the steady beat of the music, and she walks up to me and places her hands on my hips. The men cheer louder as she starts running her hands up and down the side of my body, and I throw the guys a teasing smile.
Then, I throw my head back and let my hair cascade down my back and shoulders as her hands go for my breasts; she squeezes them softly, and then pulls the front clasp of my bra. The cups droop over my breasts, and I watch the men sitting under the stage trying to get a glimpse of my hard nipples.
Oh, don’t judge them; I’m worth every stolen glimpse... and they’re paying more than enough for it.
I push the straps of my bra down my arms, moving slowly, and I can feel the tension rise in the air. When I finally pull it off of my body, my sixth sense tells me that the few cocks in the room that weren’t fucking hard are now as solid as concrete.
Smiling at Lux, I lean in to her and brush my lips against hers while, at the same time, I open the clasp on her own bra. Except, instead of taking it slow, I simply rip it off of her body and throw it to the men under us. I can hear the commotion as two of them jump from their seats to catch the bra, but I don’t bother looking.
My hands run down the side of Lux’s body, and I go down to my knees as I hook my fingers on her thong. I look at the men, that mischievous smile once more on my face, and bite on my lower lip, teasing them as I try to look like I’m wondering about what I should do next
“Take it off,” one of them urges me, and I slide the tip of my index finger over Lux’s thong, gently pressing against her pussy.
She grabs her own tits as I do it, squeezing them and moaning, and I finally start pushing the thong down. Her pussy is starting to show, and no one’s talking any more; if it weren’t for the music, you could hear a pin drop in the room.
“No, you take it off,” one of the men shouts, and I can’t help but smile at that. Even though most men would kill and die for a chance to be with a woman like Lux, I guess some things can’t really be helped.
I’m in high demand, after all, especially since a lot of these men know me from my days as a porn star.
It isn’t easy being famous, you know?
Sigh. Alright then. Here we go.
I go up to my feet, my fingers still on Lux’s thong, and she takes her hands to my waist. We start to pull down on each other’s thongs at the same time and, when I feel the string being pulled down from between my ass cheeks…
What the fuck?
Did you hear that?
What the fuck was that noise?
I jerk, hearing that loud bang.
You heard that too, right?
It’s from the end of the room.
I turn my head there just in time to see someone barging in.
What the fuck is going on?
I narrow my eyes into slits, trying to see the person walking toward the stage in a straight hurried line, and then I feel my heart sink inside my chest.
Fucking Christ.
It’s Lester Vicks, and he looks fucking pissed.
“Show’s over, gentlemen,” he shouts, pulling his badge from a pocket in his overcoat and flashing it to the men sitting at the tables. It’s almost as if he said there’s a bomb inside the building; they scurry out like mice, heading out of the room as if they were running for their lives.
Oh. My. God.
This time he’s gone too fucking far. Skinny dick loser corrupt fucking cop.
“What the fuck, Lester?” I hiss at him, grabbing my bra from the floor and putting it on.
I pull my thong up, walk down the stage, and head toward him, feeling as pissed as he looks. I don’t know what bug crawled up his ass today, but he can’t barge in here like this and ruin my business.
“You can’t do this!” I protest, but he shoots me down with one hard look.
“I can do whatever I want, Destiny,” he says, and this time he doesn’t call me babe. Even though I hate when he calls me that, I would've preferred it to the way he’s talking to me right now. He means business, and when Lester means business… It’s usually bad business. At least for me.
“I’m running out of time here,” he tells me sharply. “That girl I told you about, you need to find her, and you need to do it quickly.”
“Jesus, and you had to storm in here just to tell me that?” I ask him, folding my arms and tapping my foot against the floor. He might be the commissioner, but that doesn’t give him the right to come in here and do whatever the hell he wants. I mean, it does, but you know what I’m trying to say.
“I’m not playing around anymore, Destiny,” he says to me. “There’s something very bad going on, and I need you to go to Python and find that girl. Not fucking play porn star for a bunch of fucking perverts.”
Seriously. That statement coming from him has like eighteen different kinds of irony.
“There’s some shady shit going on at Python, and that girl is right in the middle of it. That girl and your friend, Austin,” he says, pronouncing the word friend as if he knows more than he’s telling. I wonder how much he really knows.
“I told you, if she’s there, I’m going to --” I start, but he waves me down and cuts me short. He smacks his lips in that irritating expression of his, and then points one long finger at me.
“You have 24 hours. Not a minute more,” he tells me, and I understand the threat under his words. Even though he has the hots for me, this woman he's looking for seems to be more important than all of that for him to threaten me like this.
“The clock is ticking,” he finishes, turning on his heels and storming out of the room. “And when it finishes, you better have a fucking chair to sit on, darlin’.”
I frown as I watch him leave the room, thinking that if hate could kill he’d drop dead right now. I used to tolerate him, but lately he’s been overstepping.
I’m not his errand girl; if he wants to investigate Python, why doesn’t he do it himself?
I stand there in silence, mulling over his words as Lux walks toward me, a coat draped over her naked shoulders.
“What the fuck was all that about?” she asks me. “Did Lester go off the deep end?” She folds her arms like me, tapping her foot at the same rhythm I was doing before.
I shake my head.
“I mean, just walking in here and flashing his badge and shutting shit down, it's…” Lux tries to find the words but can’t. “Jesus.”
“I don’t think Jesus has anything to do with this, Lux,” I whisper, more to myself than to her. “Can you do me a favor? Get me an Uber; I need to get to Queens fast. Lester isn’t fucking around this time, and I don’t want to take any risks.”
“Sure, boss,” she tells me playfully, trying to brighten my mood but failing miserably. Seeing the worried look on my face, she finally tur
ns on her heels and starts walking toward the backstage. “I’m on it.”
As I stand here, completely by myself under the dimmed lights of the room, I can’t help but worry. There’s something going on, and I have no idea what it is.
But I need to get to the bottom of this.
Because it seems like I’m caught up in it now whether I like it or not.
70
Austin
This is probably a fucking first for me, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking of Destiny.
I’ve always lived by the two Fs philosophy, Fuck and Forget, but that’s proving to be an impossible mission.
This woman’s cast some sort of fucking spell on me, and I just can’t shake it off.
It’s a good thing that Strokes has called me to warn me that she’s coming in today. I need to think of something else, and I know that when Strokes comes in we have to take care of business.
And, no, doll, I mean real fucking business, not the daily operations of a sex club.
I’m sitting at my office, looking through the financials of this month (profits have been climbing up for the fourth month in a row) when there’s a knock at my door.
“Yeah?” I don’t even look from my laptop as the door swings open; my security staff always leads before anyone comes inside.
“Mistress Strokes is here, boss.”
“Send her in,” I tell the head of my security detail and, a few seconds after, Strokes strolls through the doorway.
“These guys are really uptight, Jesus,” she starts with by way of hello. “They know who I am, so why don’t they just let me in?”
She knows me long enough to fucking complain so I let it fly and watch her as she sits down right in front of me and stretches. She yawns then, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You know why,” I tell her with a smile, and then get up and head to the coffee machine in the corner. I take a double espresso out of it, and then push the cup into her hands.
“Been getting some sleep?” I ask. “You look terrible.”
