บททั้งหมดของ The Devil's Favorite: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Need. Greedy, self-serving, with a grip of iron that doesn't let go until it has had its fill. No wonder they are here in their numbers, looking for the thrill that lies behind closed doors… except, in the glass walls of Babylon, need spills outside partitions, desperate hands groping sweaty bodies, a constant circus of naked screams, frantic movements, and constant and unabashed fucking. A different kind of need consumes me, though, as I am pulled along to my first customer. But it is still as potent and heaven knows I could get an orgasm from it, unstimulated. The desire to be punitive tugs on me like an impatient master, seductive, melting in my mouth like icing sugar. And now, I have a smile on my face as I am led to sit in the midst of three men in a secluded booth, bass and moans surrounding us. Bronco stands behind me, keeping watch, but since I sit demurely, innocently, his precautions look a little exaggerated. Yet he is right to be cautious; I do want to bolt. But I fo

I drift in the darkness for what seems like centuries, unable to grasp anything tangible as I am ripped from image to image, reliving experiences, memories… but they are not mine. There are new faces, new dangers, and the kind of primal dread that would summon up your adrenaline in less than a second for flight… or fight, like these memories seem to favour. It feels like a blood-spattered nightmare, brimming with more violence than I am used to, filled with guns, blades and the pungent, rust-like smell of death. The pain comes a few times, sharp, biting, encompassing, but soon, it gives way to silence. I glimpse white walls once, peaceful, calming just before rolling back into the darkness. The nightmares; the memories. With a jolt, I wake. Every part of me aches as I try to sit up, gaze scanning the cold, sterile space, moving from the white, nondescript ceiling to the shiny machines- the ones that had previously been used to monitor my heart rate, blood pressure, and brain funct

There was something about him. Maybe it was the hard, sculpted lines of his face which was just as cold as it was hot. Or maybe it was the way he came in quietly, methodically, like he was stalking prey, locking the door as soon as he walked inside and standing before it, letting me know that if I plan to escape, I will have to go through him, and I definitely didn't want that. Maybe that was it. It might also be his dark eyes- as beautiful as they were soulless… eyes that looked like a chasm that ended nowhere, pulling me deeper and deeper into the depths. Whatever it was, as soon as he entered the room, it had all my attention, and it didn't let go. Not like I liked it. "And who the fuck are you?" I snap."Leone. Fucking. Andreotti." He heads for my bedside and I am instinctively motivated to retreat until my back is against the head rest. "The one who fucking owns your life."The dread that fills me as he advances, keeps me in place, else, I should be crawling up the wall, especia

I can definitely see the allure- the reason Thirteen had agreed to become Leone's assassin. The thrill of unspeakable wealth had pulled her. And at this point, it's obvious that while the asshole in question is a lot of bad things, he pays his employees like he fucking plucks the money from a tree in his yard. On the back seats of the car he had asked to pick me from the hospital last night had sat a case filled with crisp cash, supposedly my flat-rate salary for the past three months that I had been in coma. That was what it looked like, because he certainly couldn't have been paying me for disrespecting him, daring him to come get me at the hospital, trying to defy him as well as escape the contract that Thirteen entered into with him. Yet if he had, my jaw would have dropped the same way it did when I first saw the cash in the car. I didn't mind it at all. If I'm going to escape at some point, I need all the money I can get. Post recovery from my shock, I had turned to the drive

I clearly lack self-preservation instincts. Leone Andreotti screams everything I should avoid- dangerous possessiveness, lethal sensuality, desire like a fucking inferno - yet I am taken by the insane need for him to destroy me with it.And I just proved it. As I take the paved path down to the Dollhouse, I can't help but grow annoyed at the smug look that came on his face at my reaction earlier. Like a fucking animal in heat, I had begged him to fuck me senseless; with my eyes, with the dampness between my thighs, with the moans I fought hard to prevent from escaping my mouth. I submitted, and to a man like him, no less... Obviously he's going to swallow me whole. He's definitely not the kind of person you fuck with- or fuck at all- I tell myself vehemently. He's the kind you run away from.If only my hormones would listen. A little bit of late night research yesterday showed me that Leone is the scariest thing to ever exist in this city. But what is even scarier than that? Nursing