The Hustler Novels & Stories

said a man, who looked like one of those business tycoons. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Hold on love, I will be back,” he said, smiling. She smiled. “Hello, you must be Miss Huston?” asked a man of her age. She nods. “I am Skylar, Easton’s business dealer,” he said. She smiled. “Well, I never knew he had such a beautiful secretary,” he said smiling. She felt her cheeks turn red. “You are beautiful Miss Huston,” he said and she smiled. Just then they heard someone clearing their throat behind them.

“Anna Carter, this isn’t Theo Zander’s turf. A b*tch like you causing a ruckus here with your boy toy means you’re blatantly disrespecting me, Drogo Hanks!” Somewhere below the stairs, sitting on a sofa was a man with a square face, triangular eyebrows, and a beard. His expression was dark. This man was Drogo Hanks, the owner of Celestial Club! He was also one of the five most powerful men in the underground world.

The desert night was hot and wild—wind screaming over broken ground, smelling of burned tires, cheap drink, cheap pussy, and cheap blood. The old airfield outside Vegas was dead for years, but tonight it lived: big lights on rusty poles cutting white lines in the dirt, chain fences shaking like cages, two thousand people in cut jeans and leather yelling for meat and sex. Tonight’s big fight wasn’t written down. Dax Voss vs Saint Crowe—two road kings, settling old bad blood.

My pussy still felt swollen from the fight, that angry throb mixing with the hurt in my chest until I couldn’t tell which was worse. I grabbed my phone and opened the app store without thinking. No photos, no bullshit profiles, just straight dirty talk and vibes. I downloaded it fast, heart pounding while it was installed. “Fuck Jake and his mistress,” I whispered as I made my profile. Put up a quick shot of my cleavage in the tank top I still wore, no face, just tits pushed together and the hint of hard nipples showing through. Bio said fresh out of a cheating asshole’s bed, looking to feel wanted again. Send.

This one had a blurry image of him on top of the imbecile. Jayden Steele, A City's Mysterious Tycoon, Caught in a Heated Confrontation at Rutherford Towers Over an Alleged Woman! Find out on page 25! And so many more. I threw the magazines to the side. 'How did I overlook this? What were those men doing?' I stared at the magazines with a cool detachment. "Paparazzi being their usual selves," I leaned back on the leather seat. She disregarded my response, "Yet you bring someone home, and they spend the night?"

Hr turned the light on only to watch her clearly. As he unbutton her few buttons and displayed her bare chest, “Fuck!!”- he cursed under his breath, as his fingers stroked slightly her nipple area. “That bastard Rayn hit a fucking jackpot.”- He cursed as he leaned to suck her nipple, but before he can do the room of the door opened, “Aaru….”

"Can you hear the nonsense you just spurt out? You underestimated the man by sending two men in? And keeping eight out? From the many operations we carried out in the past, when and where did we ever placed more men behind the bars? Answer me, you fucker!" "I thought he was just a fucking billionaire! He should be easy to handle! I never thought it was going to go this fucking way!" "Do not yell at me, you motherfucking bastard!" Jagger attempts to swing his arm at Hunter but he's quick to dodge it, holding his fist like he's holding women titties.

He sneered, he paced about the hallway. "Actually that's not the situation. I have been declared fit and fertile to have children. My reproductive organs are healthy and ready for conception. He..." "In your words, I am the cause of your childlessness?" he snapped. "No sir" she trembled. "I never said that". His hand extended and mid-flight carrying all berserker rage he felt towards her cheek. "Slap!" It echoed. "You must be out of your mind! are you here to insult me? are you insane?"

A Dark Fantasy Romance Unholy Hunger ✦ Some loves are not forbidden by men. They are forbidden by gods. •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• Before Time Learned to Count •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × ••••••

-THIRD PERSON’S POV- “What is this hustler’s name?” Seff engaged Jarvaldo with the business card in his hand. He rose from the chair and his foot knocked over the empty communion wine bottle. It clinked and rolled on the floor. “He goes by the pseudonym of Shekel Moneta,” Jarvaldo divulged. “Give him a call. Tell him that you’re my guy.” Seff stopped the bottle with his foot and bent over to steady it on the floor. When he straightened, he took out his new Android phone to make the call. He wasn’t in the bullshit today with Jarvaldo. He assessed the business card and whispered the contact details: