Lovesprung by the mafia king

Tonight I am in the same place I find myself every night. A place between excitement and danger. Where you live on the edge of pleasure, of pure adrenaline that flows through your veins. I love every minute of the thrill. I did not get to be here by playing safe or obeying the rules that society sets.

Do I desire this lifestyle? Absolutely yes.

So I sit and stare over the masses of people filling every corner of the room. This is such a cliché, a man like me sitting in such a familiar place as this. Well, here is where I thrive; here is where I rule. But my power goes beyond these doors, far into the city and beyond the state.

Hunter King shall be a name that you say softly over your lips, for if I catch you not respecting one syllable that flows from your mouth, you shall find yourself at the bottom where daylight does not flow.

Tonight as with every other, I find myself surrounded by more women than I possibly feel comfortable with. Now there are the women you see at the club, and then you get the real women beyond these walls. The former has only one use, and that is one I frequent very often when I feel somewhat frustrated or nearly overstressed, which is practically the majority of times.

But the sad fact of the whole situation is that this bad boy shall not get a minute with one of those real women. It is not that I do not desire them; they do not show interest in someone who lives on the edge of danger, but most of all, a man covering his body in ink.

I am very frustrated as I find my way to wander through the masses; I believe that tonight it shall be that perky blonde that has had her eyes on me for the past several minutes. So with the utmost confidence, not that it is required, I make my way through the crowd. Then as I am just about to reach my destination, I feel someone walking smack bang into my sculpted chest.

The impact is so hard, the poor girl utter only but one word.

"Ouch."

A group of men forces themselves past us at the very moment, which causes her to push even harder into my body.

The scent of sweet vanilla and hints of honey attacks my senses. It knocks my breath away, and beyond my control, I press my head even closer to hers. Her scent is beyond intoxicating; I want more of her. And as I listen, I hear her soft rapid breaths singing like music in my ear. There are tingles of pleasure running down my spine, something beyond what I have ever experienced with a woman before.

I softly moan deep in my chest; this is something I want. I want this girl, not just now, but I can find myself getting lost in her over and over again. And my first instinct is to run my hands over her waist and resting them at the small of her back, but as I find my hands trail the way, her expose skin melts by only my touch. If I was not captivated before, then I truly am now.

But as soon as I rest my hand just above would possibly is the tightest ass I would ever feel in my life, then out of nowhere, the flat of her hand comes crashing into my cheek. And as she speaks, her angel voice peeks the very thing that had me coming down here in the first place.

"Let me go, you creep."

"Well, I have been called a few things, but I can honestly say that creep is not one of them."

Now what this girl does not know is that Hunter King does not let go so easily, so I pull her closer once again, and surprisingly she does not push me away from her.

"Please come sit with me?"

"What makes you think I want to?"

She waves her finger up and down my body, "What makes you think I want to come to sit with this?"

"I can see it in those deep blue eyes."

And just for a brief moment, my sugarcoated words bring a rosy color to those already burning cheeks. Then beyond what I can ever imagine, she pulls me closer to her once again. I feel seven sensations of pleasure as her long delicate fingers find their way underneath the buttons of my black designer shirt. She runs her nails over every inch of my rippled abs. That frustration has now hit an all-time high, and high is what I want to find myself in every corner of her body.

Then she softly whispers in my ear, "You have a better chance at kissing a frog."

I cannot help but chuckle at her; now there is the first of a string of problems; Hunter King does not chuckle. This girl has been in my presence for only a few minutes, and she has me to my knees.

I lean closer until my breath is lingering on the tips of her ear, "Consider yourself a frog then."

Well, if I thought she would slap me there and then, she turns her head to face me. Those deep cherry lips are so close to me that with only but one wink, I would claim those lips.