Yuri B Club Novels & Stories

“A man… he gave it to me… said if I drugged the boy and brought him… I would finally have you.” I froze. My blood ran colder than ice. Yuri. The name crawled through my mind like a snake. It sure was him. No doubt. My hand tightened around the scalpel. I leaned close, my breath hot against his ear. “You thought hurting him would make me want you?” He sobbed, shaking his head. “He said it was the only way. I... I really love you, boss. I joined the club because of you, not because I like racing.”

I told Brenda that if she need anything then she can call me anytime. Then we left in his car to the club. The club name is morte. This club is really a very weird name I think it is Italian.It's opened here recently and became more popular. I get to know about it from Tanya my friends from the work. She invited me few times but I refused her. But now here I am. "Is Yash also going to be their"i asked him. His eyes fixed on the road. He looked at me when I asked him about it.

Putting on the seatbelt I started the ignition, pulling out of the driveway. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Upon arriving at the club Podzemel’ye with a logo of raven, guessing it stands for something in Russian, the bouncer let us in, bowing his head in respect, as we passed him. Entering the club the smell of cigarettes and alcohol filled my nostrils. Loud music playing around the club. Everywhere you turned people were grinding on each other, making out in a corner, getting lap dances, strippers dancing on tables entertaining horny men and bartenders running around frantically. For a Wednesday night the club was busy.

But Alex is all business, and if he thinks he’s dragging me back to Chicago to face my father, he’s going to have a fight on his hands. I kick and thrash and suddenly Yuri, the huge, tattooed Russian who sits and watches the DJ, Lucy, every night with a moon face, steps in front of us, blocking Alex. “Put girl down.” His accent is as thick as his meaty arms. You gotta love Yuri. I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure he’s ex-mafia, too. Or bratva—whatever they call Russian mafiya. His tattoos read like a rap sheet and when he’s not looking moony at Lucy, his expression promises death to anyone who gets in his way or looks too long at his girl.

I didn’t want Damien or his watchful eyes anywhere near it and I had a gut feeling that they would be returning today, their absence stretching on for too long. “Let’s go,” Misa said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along as I kept glancing back at the room, a nervous giggle, or maybe it was more of a shaky laugh, escaping my lips as we walked, or maybe even ran towards the waiting car. The music at the club hit me like a physical force, the bass vibrating through my bones. Too loud, definitely too loud for anything I would ever genuinely enjoy. The club itself looked like it catered exclusively to the elite of New York, all polished surfaces and hushed conversations in dimly lit corners.

The club dished out music that only drew in the locals. The music blasted loud enough to make you want to dance all night long. Whirling strobe lights flashed overhead, with cool neon colors glowing in a semi-dark room. Drinks were flowing freely with us scantily clad girls, and the males were ready to have a good time with us ladies! Unlike other clubs, Mr. B’s the owner of “The Pretenders’ night club. He has displayed pole dancers, barely dressed males, and females for your delight throughout the club. This is where you can find some of the sexiest wanna-be video vixens. Treasure had her smooth-toned skin exposed, wearing her hair in a blowout. She knew having it big would take the men's b

The only people who maintained the BBC seats were Christian, Tyler and Heather. Don't even get me started about Christian. One second he’s a total bad boy warning me off, telling me he’s my enemy, and the next moment he is a loyal friend to the boy who had sex with his girlfriend. He was the only one in the Bad Boys Club who still talked with every single member. My guess is he’s trying to be the glue to bring them all back together. Either that or I just don’t understand Christian at all.

He grips the wheel, hits the gas and flies us over the road. We arrive at the club; it's situated in a World War Two bunker and I remodeled it to an old-school underground club. The line at the front of the black washed wall and door is massive, humans and vampires from all degradations of the population have gathered to party with Charlotte de Witte, a Belgian born Techno DJ. She is one of the best and one of the few humans I tolerate. I lean over to our Uber driver. "If you want to make five-hundred euro's extra tonight, then give me your number and pick us up when I call you. You did a good job."

I clenched my fist in anger as Iisten to yuri speak without as much as a tiny bit of remorse. “You unbelievable!” Arina cut in before I could. “You don't even feel a tiny bit of remorse!” She added. He shrugged his shoulders lightly before speaking. “I mean, it's being ages!” “Maybe you should leave Yuri,” I simply said as I looked back at him, I couldn't bare the sight of him any longer. He looked at me, then Arina before speaking. “I just wanna know how Imma get out of this deep sheet, it wouldn't be good for the clan!” He added, he obviously was tryna blackmail me making use of the clan.

She then stood behind Mariska and leaned down to trap her where she was. Her hands then crawled to Mariska’s breasts and pulled on one side to expose one of them. It’s just that before it could even feel the cold wind in the strip club, Yuri caught it with his mouth. Mariska’s body felt a tremble, more when he started sucking on the tip. The young woman continued to massage the other one while licking Mariska’s neck. Her other hand was even supporting the other that was being sucked. Mariska could only squirm, more when one of Yuri’s hands moved to undo his own pants.