Poor Devil Saloon Novels & Stories

I said to the bartender, Wade. "Yes, Alpha." He said and began to pour me the best whiskey we served. As soon as he handed me the whiskey, I took a small swig and groaned as the liquid burned my throat. I was about to sit with the devil disguised as a pious man, and I needed a drink for the mental gymnastics involved. I hated devils that were afraid to show their horns. They were the worst of all devils, cowardly and disgusting. I was a devil that loved being a devil, and I wore my horns proudly.

“And the world will know that what belongs to the Devil… stays with the Devil.” As he led me out of the cellar, a low, subsonic growl rumbled in his chest. In that moment, I knew the truth. Girard Roux wasn’t human at all. And I was about to enter a cage far more dangerous than this cellar.

The heavy, rusted iron chain loudly clanked completely in the suffocating darkness as he violently pulled his deeply burnt, raw right ankle entirely close to his severely crushed chest. His wildly dilated, highly bloodshot eyes aggressively stared completely into the pitch-black abyss. The legendary Devil of Dalal Street was irreversibly stripped of his entire two point five billion dollar empire. He was entirely reduced completely to a violently shivering, heavily diseased stray drinking literal sewage in a freezing hell. The immaculate corporate board members had explicitly laughed completely at his absolute, unadulterated degradation, aggressively watching him violently eat garbage off th

“She's a pretty girl, Luca. By far the best looking woman I have objectively ever seen. That makes her trouble. And you my friend, you've always been attracted to trouble. Isn't that why when Mr Stonecold offered you a chance to grow as an illegal, barely teenage, immigrant worker in his company, you conned him off his business and chose the part of a gangster?” I smiled lazily. It was the drugs. “Look how that paid off. Imagine I had agreed to the former.” He chuckled. “Probably knock up a road side prostitute, to birth your fourth child. Hey, but at least you'd have been at the building supervisor level by now.” The thought alone made me break a sweat. Being poor was hell. It wasn't as gla

Precum was already sipping out and slowly, I took him in my mouth while my hands rubbed up and down his length. Slowly, I took his whole length in my mouth and I started to move my head, earning deep grunts from Russo. His grip on my hair tightened and he was starting to control the bob himself. The fact that he was enjoying this made me feel better, even more inclined to satisfy him. He was starting to twitch in his seat and instead of letting go, I continued to rob him and bob on his dick. He let out a low gutteral moan before he started to shoot the content of his sack down my throat. “We are home, boss” Sal, the driver called out making both of us freeze.

But the predatory glint in the eyes of the few patrons I had already glimpsed as Devlin led me through the club painted a far more degrading picture. The "Devil's Club" lived up to its ominous name. Beneath the dazzling facade of glittering chandeliers, plush velvet seating, and the clinking of expensive drinks, lay a palpable tension, a sense of something dark and dangerous coiling just beneath the surface. The clientele were a disturbing mix of impeccably dressed men with cold eyes and rougher-looking individuals whose gazes lingered on the dancers with a possessive hunger that made my skin crawl.

Grayson Voss I was supposed to be in a meeting with a cartel rat who thought he could play both sides. Instead, I ended up in a club that reeked of sweat, desperation, and lies. Club Delirium. Ironically named, considering it mostly caters to men trying to forget reality with vodka and silicone. I wasn’t there for pleasure. I was there because the club owner was late on his payments. And late payments in my world meant broken bones or buried bodies.

, Damion spoke. “Strange…”,Alex stated as he finished off his origami work and gave it to Mac, his driver to keep.” Back to the wine, it all tastes like shit. They are either too dry or too weak or sour. This is not the same blood I am looking for! Find the damn blood of 1530’s. I don’t care how you get it but get the job done properly or don’t come back.”, Alex shouted at the staff and flipped over the table that had the bottles of wine on it and he stormed out of the wine cellar with Damion on his side. All Damion could do was keep quiet and follow Alex. The rest of Alex’s day was the same old usual, busy. He had meetings with shareholders to attend to, a new foundation plan, and the blood

She knew better than to look around and see what was happening. "Mr. Costello, Mr. Ramirez is here to see you." I sighed and poured myself another glass of whiskey. "Send him in." Favors. People came to me for favors. I granted them, and in return, they sold their souls. That's how I earned the nickname "The Devil." I didn't mind; I liked the sound of it. What did bother me was how easily people traded their souls, as if they were mere bargaining chips.

He wanted to show me his big enough office with its amazing scenic view overlooking the skyline of the city, he wanted me to see that his assistant was bangable and only wore the best designer dresses and his staff weren’t lacking too. He wanted me to see that he didn’t need my money and I appreciated the subtlety in telling me he will not be intimidated by me but enough of the games, I was a busy man hence I just took my seat wanting to get right into it and not waiting for the courteous bullshit of him offering. He arched his brow at me but sat down. “What will you like to drink?” he asked conversationally. “I’m fine.” “I have an aged fine scotch that I have been saving for __”