Jamal Murray Ethnicity Novels & Stories

My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon's features. No pictures do him justice. He looks like a dark version of an Italian mob boss. I can't help but remember the bits and pieces that came through about him while I was an officer. He's of mixed heritage-African American and Mexican National. Seeing him up close and personal makes me wonder more about his heritage because he's fucking gorgeous.

"Her dark skin color was shiny and attractive. She had absolutely everything a guy would want in a lady." He paused for a while, and smiled gently like he was recalling something. But sincerely, everything was so confusing to me already. How could she be a mixed race, if her parents were both of the white race? Did something go wrong? "Ace." I called, as I knitted my brows in puzzlement. "There's one thing I don't think I understand. Jamilah was dark skinned right? But, no one's a black in your family. Or, was she a distant family member?"

My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon’s features. No pictures do him justice. He looks like a dark version of an Italian mob boss. I can’t help but remember the bits and pieces that came through about him while I was an officer. He’s of mixed heritage—African American and Mexican National. Seeing him up close and personal makes me wonder more about his heritage because he’s fucking gorgeous.

She moved in close, so her head was right next to his and their cheeks touching. "Oh look at you, Jules." She said, softly, looking at the mirror in front of them. "What's your ethnicity?" "My dad is Norwegian and my mom's Kenyan." She breathed. "You're absolutely beautiful. I'm so happy I remembered to bring my camera. You are art." He looked forward as well. Sparing his reflection a quick glance - noting his green eyebrows, vermillion tinted cheeks and the iridescent glow on his jawline. Before drawing his gaze back to her.

That first year, I traveled and got reacquainted with New York and old friends. The second year, I bumped into an old college classmate leaving the gym one day. Tyler Momoa was a recently retired professional football player. He owned the gym and a couple of others. He is half black and half Samoan with a huge loving family that instantly embraced me.

The private gate opened. Jamal “J-Rex” Thompson, the world-famous Black NBA superstar and music mogul, stepped onto the terrace. Towering at 6’10” with a powerfully sculpted body, his dark skin gleamed under the setting sun. He was known for dominating both the court and the charts. Victoria’s breath caught. “I don’t want the polite version tonight,” she said, voice husky. “I want the raw one.”

The room was dark and quiet, the only source of light being the fire place that burned and heated up the otherwise cold room. In the middle of the room was a large wooden table with a chair at both ends, Damian sat on one with Don and Leo standing behind him while Jamal Murray, a bald black man that looked to be in his mind forties with dark unforgiven eyes and a sharp cunning smile sat at the other with a stone faced guard standing behind him. Jamal was one of the few men who weren't born into this world but had managed to carve a place in it for themselves and he wasn't just some local boss running a small operation and raising his shoulders, He was the leader of the fucking Underground.

"We have Alessio Jamal Luther and Antonio Ja'far Luther " "We have Alessio Jamal Luther, and Antonio Ja'far Luther."

Jamaal and mystery man. ******