Dancing With A Devil Novels & Stories

David Carson David Carson is a well-known young billionaire who is widely admired for his philanthropic activities. However, behind his public persona lies a dark secret - he is actually the notorious mafia kingpin known as "Devil". Despite his reputation as a heartless and ruthless individual, David manages to maintain a façade of a successful businessman to the outside world. David's criminal activities include smuggling and murder, and he takes great pleasure in committing these crimes without leaving any evidence behind. He uses the black money earned from these illegal activities to fund his charity work, thereby creating a false impression of himself as a generous benefactor.

The name is not Dustin, but Devlin this time, and a new desire below the name. “Remember at your highest moment, the devil makes his move,” the bartender whispers solemnly, forcing me to look back up, but he is nowhere in sight. Suddenly, an intense wave of fear washes over me and I stumble back as I look around. I’m not sure if it is the extreme intoxication, or if it is really happening in front of my eyes. The bar clears and I am left alone. The dim yellow lights change to blue, centred, making me the spotlight in a now dark room.

“Well, I, uh. Mm. I just feel bad, you know? Cause his mate died…and he’s here all alone, maybe we should keep him company for a bit?” Natalie shrugged a bit before she grabbed my hand and led me off the dancefloor. We headed in his direction, which unfortunately, was within staring range of Devon. He was on the dancefloor with his tongue down Amelia’s throat. They were both feeling each other up like animals. It made me wish the punch was spiked. “Howdy,” said Harris. “Sore feet?” “Huh?” I was still half watching Devon. “From dancing,” he chuckled. “You two were out there for a while.”

Having the coolest moves was the least of their problems. At first, Cole, Devon and I stood together, dancing with our glasses in our hands, swaying to the beat and moving our heads, letting the rhythm take control of our bodies. However, it wasn’t long before we were joined by female company. Devon was the first to move away from our little group, with not one but two women hanging from his arms. I gave Cole a skeptical look, but he just shrugged his shoulders and continued to enjoy the music, until his eyes landed on a woman across the dancefloor and he gave me a mock salute before sauntering over to her, moving cautiously past the wild dancers bursting out their inner Michael Jackson.

Devon reached for my hand to pull me from my seat. "I am not much of a dancer." "It can't be that different than handy footwork when you are training. Pretend you are training me." For someone who had never seen battle or murdered anyone in cold blood, he was confident and sure of himself. I hardly had to do anything. Our bodies swayed together, and he twirled me around like I weighed nothing. The music slowed, and I slid my arms around his neck. Devon was not too big and bulky like wolves. It was nice how our bodies just seemed to fit together.

she asked inquisitively. “Devils Night is our favorite night of the year, a night of mischief. It started in Detroit but has spread so far beyond all of that. It is a night to celebrate being young and free, a night to have a little fun. I don’t see anything wrong with that.” she was hanging on my every word. It was all true but there was another reason for the name. Devil’s night was also Synestra’s birthday. “One final question, what do you think about the protests and people saying you somehow brainwash your fans with your music?” she asked and I could tell she thought this was a hard hitting question. I decided to have a little fun with her.

Devika didn't move an inch. He again said, " come here". But this time more loudly. Devika doesn't want to earn another slap, so she walked towards him. He pulled her on his lap and said, "I am playing music. You will dance like a slut for me to excite me. If you fail to do so. Then I will throw you into burning coal." Devika couldn't tolerate his humiliation anymore. She yelled," never. I will never do this type of dance for you. You are sick".

Whirling strobe lights give me fractured glimpses of Devon, who I guided into the gyrating crowd. When we started dancing, Devon looked so tempting, tall, and slim, but his tight round booty was encased in fitted black jeans with rips at the knees with a white loose-fitting dress shirt. He caught my attention and others, girls, too! His outfit showcased his broad shoulders and tight waist. His deep brown hair was combed off his face making him stand out even more. Devon had moves that excited me. The man was getting it on the dance floor as he went all out to show me the best time of my life.

I didn't expect him to say that at all. "How?" My voice suddenly became small. Valentin smiled deviously and I knew immediately that I had entered a tiny pickle. "You will dance for me, my personal dancer." He said, his deep voice lingering with amusement and and bit of anticipation. "Your mate and your dancer?" I asked and scoffed shaking my head in disbelief. "It's like dancing for the devil." "Whatever you say noisemaker," Valentin chuckled deeply. His chuckle made my heart skip several beats and I almost winced in pain.