Kiss of Death by Mary Elizabeth EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Mary Elizabeth
- Language: English
- Genre: Single Authors Short Stories
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
RIP
KARMA IS A BITCH .
No, really. Karma is a bitch.
And a dick tease.
“No touching, RIP.” Karma wags her finger like she’s a teacher
reprimanding a naughty student and not a topless dancer in nothing but a
pair of underwear scarcely covering her cunt. “You know the rules better
than anyone.”
“Which set of rules are we talking about?” I ask over the music. Sinking
into my seat, I cross my arms over my chest to say, happy now? “Your
rules? The clubs? Or—”
Her pretty mouth spreads into a condescending smirk as she straddles
my lap, circling her hips. Needy hands slide up my biceps before she grips
the tops of my shoulders and throws her head back, and I’m not
complaining about the view. Neon lights dress the club in purples and blues,
painting Karma’s naked chest in sharp color as she moves over me in all the
right motions. My cock hardens, turning Karma’s condensation into conceit,
and she grinds harder and faster.
A year ago, I would’ve bagged Karma and turned her out in a back
room without all the extra chitchat about rules and regulations before the
song even ended.
Ironic, because a year ago, I didn’t have a fraction of the power and
influence in this city that was recently bestowed upon me after a quick vote
and a drop of blood. My word went from a suggestion to law as soon as
Nicolai Coppola placed this crown on my head. Instead of following orders,
I’m the man dishing them out now. And everyone better do what the fuck I
say or pay deadly consequences.
Unless you’re a stripper with a knack for following protocol.
“Do I make you hard?” she asks, leaning forward to press her chest
against my folded arms. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“Does it matter?” I ask in a bored tone.
This is supposed to be a celebration.
It’s turned out to be nothing more than a reminder that my chosen
family is going in the same direction as my cock.
Soft.
Karma flicks my earlobe with the tip of her tongue, grazing her
fingernails across the back of my neck. Glitter dots her skin like diamonds,
rubbing off on my shirt as she moves against me in what’s turning out to be
a run-of-the-mill private dance. She smells like strawberry candy, and I
know from experience that she tastes like it, too.
“It’s nothing personal.” She works my arms apart to open me up by my
wrists.
I roll my head to the side and say, “You’re not acting like you don’t
want to be touched.”
In a booth across the club, the DJ introduces the next dancer to take the
stage. And as her music goes up, the lights turn down, blanketing us in
shadows and a loose perception of privacy. Karma bends the rules in the
dark, guiding her hands to her tits.
She’s more than a handful, natural, round, with perfect fucking nipples
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