The Hustler Novels & Stories

Jake was nineteen and in his second year of college. Everyone called him a p**n warrior because he knew the girls so well. Even when they wore masks, he recognized their bodies—the shape of their tits, how their ass bounced, the way they moaned. But this new blonde girl, SweetLily, had him hooked bad.

And yet he ran through the trap that easy. “Wrong. It was Sanya Brown. Dude, How can you forget that?! You had a four-year relationship!” Well, His answer is wrong but I also lied because Xihizo— is gay. His first love was actually George Mckenny. “That means chug!!” “Alright, alright take it easy okay? My question then— What makes you aroused?” “When someone doesn’t ask too many questions and will just go with it.” “Is that so? Then should I?”

As I turned around, I immediately jumped back upon seeing a man standing there, his eyes filled with lust as he looked at me. "Who are you and why are you in this place?" “Call me delicious, but my name is Dusty. By the time you're finished giving me a blowjob, I assure you that you'll declare my taste to be delightful.” “Don't even think about getting close to me, you'll regret it, asshole.”

#HAREM_OF_LUST 🔞 #CHAPTER_1 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓🍓

His whole attitude just pissed me off. ​My jaw tightened, the insult landing like a slap. I sat up straight, glaring at him. "I am not a prostitute. And I'm not interested in whatever offer you're making. So why don't you do us both a favor and walk away?" ​The stranger didn't take my rejection in good faith. In fact, his smile vanished, replaced by an ugly, mocking sneer. He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, please. What are you even feeling like? You claim not to be a prostitute, yet here you are, hanging around a man who’s notorious for never sleeping with one woman twice. Do you seriously think you're special? Darius is probably in another part of this hotel right now, hooking up wit

Huston said wanting to flirt with her, he has been staring at her all through Ryan was not happy but he still smiles “she is not my secretary, she is my wife” marking his territory “Wow, you have eyes for the beautiful ones if I must say,” Mr. Huston said “Thank you, now to what we are talking about, I am not reducing the price of the project” wanting to change the topic, he did not like the way the man was gawking at his wife “I will discuss it with my other stakeholders and get back to you before this week runs out”

He asked desperately, unable to facade his gentlemanly manners. He didn't expect her to run away without saying anything. He was born with a silver spoon and never get No as the answer. Furthermore, he was never good at understanding emotions. Without knowing what going on inside Arina, He told her his real intention for her. Anger crawled in Arina's heart, listening to him. He wanted to fuck her, that's why he wanted to marry her. Without thinking twice, she slapped him. "You want me to just fuck me, How can you think about that, I am not some girl who can sleep with you just because you are the king of Kenner” She yelled tear rolling down her eyes?

It’s illegal and I’m a cop. “I used to think of myself as a version of Robin Hood who kept the money I hustled instead of giving it to the poor. My family was poor so it kind of makes sense.” She shakes her head. “The people I conned were rich assholes who were more than willing to cheat on their wives. Losing a couple hundred bucks here or there wouldn’t have hurt them and maybe it taught them a lesson in cheating. Instead of getting a sexy one-night stand, they got stood up and got their cash stolen.”

I must admit that all six foot two inches of him was super fine. He was a thirty eight year old stud. Big, broad shoulders; long, thick and cut arms and legs; a muscular rippling six-pack and a firm but juicy tush pretty much summed up his magnificent outsides. It was who he was on the inside that disgusted me. Dustin Holloway was a highly conceited, overrated, womanizing prick. Not only did he refuse to shy away from his revolting image, he banked on it. He parlayed his dubious history into a multi-million dollar empire and didn't care who he hurt to do it. I had been exposed to jerks like this all my life.

Gripping the handle of the Glock, he pushed open the teal door. The man standing in the middle of the apartment made Chance think of a bad porn from the seventies. Mid-thirties with greasy hair and what could only be described as a porn mustache. He had a beer gut covered by a stained grey Steelers shirt. His ripped jeans were also stained, and the shoes were worn bare. Steelers. Of all the teams, why the Steelers? In Chance’s opinion, it just made him a little worse. Before the man looked up, Chance knew who it was. John Erik Custard. Owner of Tuscan Place. Rumored pimp. All around sleezeball.