“Let me help you relax, baby,” she coos.
“Don’t talk.” I grab the back of her head.
She grins like a satisfied cat. Her glossed-up lips shine in the lights. I wrap my hands in her hair. The black strands feel dry and brittle.
“God, you do have the biggest cock,” she groans.
“Suck.” I push her head down. She keeps her word, going straight to deep throating me. “Yeah, that’s it.” I lean my head back. Her loud moans as she gags on me along with the sucking sounds make me get harder.
She’s not lying.
I, Mitchell Axel Fontaine have been blessed with a giant cock. I grunt my approval as she continues to gag on me.
“Wow. Just wow.” Crystal’s voice makes her sound like an annoying mother-in-law.
“I’m trying to run a classy place and look at you. Jesus, Axel, anyone can see.” Her nagging causes me to open one eye.
“Then reach down and caress my balls if you want me to come faster. If not, shut the fuck up.” I guide Destiny’s dark head to go faster.
“Jesus, that’s it suck…” My stomach muscles bunch up.
“I’m only doing this because we need to get started.” Crystal’s hands reach over to massage my balls and that’s all it takes for me to jet off into Destiny’s warm mouth.
“Swallow all of it,” I say, watching Destiny suck me dry. She pops off, a big smile on her face as she looks at my hard cock. That’s another one of my great attributes. My cock stays hard after I come. If I cared enough about anyone, I could get them off plenty of times.
But I don’t.
So, it causes anger and disappointment. Like right now, Destiny is lifting her dress wanting to sink her used-up cunt on me. Instead I zip my jeans and spank her bare ass causing her to shriek in surprise. “Get me some fresh coffee. We need to do this.”
Rip sinks into the chair Destiny was occupying, a stupid smile on his face. Obviously he’s been sampling our latest stock for breakfast. Porsche, one of our best dancers, is right behind him.
I shake my head at them. Good thing she’s a big moneymaker and has a professional attitude. She doesn’t use hard drugs and is our most striking dancer. She gives great head and has a fairly clean cunt. Absently I watch her reapply her lipstick and think I should have waited and fucked her instead of having Destiny and Crystal, but whatever.
“Just got a call from Prez. He wants to know how long you think we’re gonna be.” Rip brings my attention back to him.
He grins at me as if he can read my thoughts, then snickers. I pull my hands through my hair and look at him. His brown eyes are slightly bloodshot and hold nothing but amusement.
“I guess we’ll find out.” My voice drips sarcasm. Ripper is like a brother from another mother. I met him through my baby sister Gia. She was starting her freshman year at Berkeley. When I went to visit her, Rip was the guy who supplied her and her friends with his weed. I smoked some and the rest is history. He got patched in a couple of years ago. We’re partners and close. All my other brothers are completely pussy whipped, married… shit, most have kids.
All but me and Ripper. He’s a genius when it comes to horticulture and I’m a genius at knowing it. See, strength and weakness, that’s how you become king of your own castle.
Blade made the executive decision to stop selling drugs. We voted; it passed. Now we’re in the process of making most of our businesses legal after David’s mess.
That left the market wide open. Meaning me and my boy Rip upped our game. We grow our own supply and have two particular strain blends that are hugely popular. We own five medical dispensaries and you can only find those blends at our places.
It’s smart business. I’ve gotten wealthy, though I’m not sure I like it.
It was always supposed to be me and my bike—the open road with my brothers and my guitar.
Simple. It’s what I gravitate toward. The less drama, the better. That’s why I’m the one who takes care of shit when others can’t seem to get it done. Always stay detached and nothing can fuck with you. It gives you an edge that 99 percent of people don’t have or even understand. I don’t allow unnecessary shit in my life.
Money’s the only thing that seems to plague me. It’s like a curse that makes you greedy, sloppy, and turns people into something they never would dream of becoming, yet they seem to fall down the rabbit hole anyway.
“Here.” Rip hands me a joint. His dishwater-blond hair falls in front of his eyes. All the women go crazy for him. He has that surfer boy laid-back personality. If they only knew he’s as deadly as all of us, they might run the other way. Probably not though. Women are stupid when it comes to nailing a Disciple. None of us are nice, or safe.