Futuristic Violence And Fancy Suits Novels & Stories

SHANICE It’s only after I’ve entered the car that it dawns on me what I just agreed to--getting fucked by two men. And these aren’t even regular sized men. They fill out the seats opposite mine, big and menacing with an air of danger surrounding them. They’re both wearing three piece suits that look like they cost more than my rent for at least three years, a mix of colognes emanating from them. They’re stinking rich, that’s for sure.

His suit was probably going to be a presidential suit that will look like a bloody penthouse with everything he will ever need right in there and it will probably have all the totally unnecessary stuff like indoor room swimming pool and a jacuzzi, a bar or some ridiculous three sitter house cinema. But the suite...no, "The suite" was a different story entirely. It wasn't your regular suite, it was definitely like in the movies. I remembered watching fifty shades of freed, darker and gray, and all I could say was I was a freaky person and she has done really wild things but she has never and would ever see the need for her to partake in BDSM. I didn't fancy physical pain and she didn't get ho

And on Friday morning, another order for room service had been placed as early as 6:30, only for the waitress to meet no response from Frank's chamber but a sinisterly open door that afforded her the view of senator Frank's corpse in lying around in a pool of blood and his lady guest stripped stark naked, beaten to pulp, and tied to the bed frame. Coincidentally--perhaps not so--it was the second case of murder of top dogs in the city within the space of a week, and in a similar pattern at that. The first murder had struck earlier in the week when Henry West-gate, a famous tycoon in the city was set up for a car accident in his Jeep. It had been discovered that the middle-aged business tycoo

I have promised myself not to fall for his craftiness, everything I will do here is to survive. He stroked my back with his hands back and forth, "I love it," I said to him and he was pleased with it. He kissed my lips with deep passion and reciprocated. He no longer had his suit on, he removed it when he brought me out of the bathtub. I gently removed the button of his shirt. I was more in a hurry than he was. I left the shirt unbuttoned halfway, I let my hand find its way to his chest. Jack is a man that has hair all over his body, handsome, fair in colour with cat eyes, this made him to be attractive.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Peering into his eyes told her a few things. His pupils were unusually large and he seemed a little confused. Jacob had obviously drugged him pretty strongly but she had no idea what he’d used. The powerful guy sprawled on the floor probably couldn’t move. He’d have fought otherwise when Jacob had assaulted him. He lay meekly next to her but his eyes were lively and another growl tore from his slightly parted lips. She tried not to shiver from the sight of his sharp fangs.

I had just grown so used to future-faking with him, playing along with these little fantasies he liked to weave whenever the mood struck him. A few moments later, two huge, heavily built men appeared and began opening the massive gates. They were dressed in dark suits and wore those unmistakable earpieces with thin wires running down their necks , just like bodyguards in high-budget movies. Adrian waved casually at them as he drove through. Once inside, the road continued, but the vegetation here was noticeably more manicured and less dense than the thick woodland we had just passed.

The assembly sat perfectly still, a dazzling sight. The clothes they wore were a strange mix of history and future. Some sat in medieval-style long dresses of rich velvet. Others wore sleek, futuristic silver suits with armored plates and glowing blue lights. Finally, one group wore simple, smart business suits. It was a jarring mismatch of eras and styles, yet no one seemed to find it strange as they all faced the front, waiting for the lords to speak.

“Be the predator, not the prey.” I force a sharp exhale and get to work. This is a contract. This is business. I reach into the box and pull out the first piece. My eyes go wide. It’s a smoky-grey slip of a dress—so thin and short it barely qualifies as clothing. It’s the kind of thing an Omega would be forced to wear at a Syndicate auction. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I hiss, looking at the lethal cutouts along the ribs and the sheer lack of hemline. Then I look back into the box.

And then there was Victor. He stood at the head of the table, his massive frame completely still, radiating an aura of suppressed, lethal violence. He had discarded his suit jacket hours ago. His dark dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves pushed up to reveal the corded tension in his forearms. He was listening, but his eyes—dark, fathomless, and burning with a terrifying protective fury—were locked entirely on me.

And in his hand, gripped with a terrifyingly familiar ease, was a black handgun that gleamed dully in the morning light. A scream, much louder and more jagged than the first, ripped out of my throat. I couldn't stop it, couldn't contain the terror that clawed its way up from my chest. The world felt like it was tilting on its axis, reality fracturing into something unrecognizable. Jaxx… cocky, arrogant, billionaire Jaxx who wore designer suits and made boardroom deals, was standing in a garden holding a weapon like he'd been born with it attached to his palm, like violence was as natural to him as breathing.