She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?
He's a criminal.
She's a burlesque dancer.
How the fuck did they get thrown together...
"So, do you often visit LA?" he asked, smirking at the woman across from him. His fingers curled around the glass of scotch and he sat further back into his leather couch in the expensive bar.
The woman, a millionaire's unfaithful wife, blushed at him, absolutely taken by his outer appearance. He had to admit she was gorgeous too, red painted lips, pearl necklace, blond hair in a dapple bun at the back of her head. Her long legs were crossed and she held herself rather well, obviously loving the rich life she had wormed her way into.
Too bad he was going to fuck her for a little bit and then steal her rich husband's money. How so? The phone in her handbag, Chloe needed it – for blackmail. It wasn't the usual job, but Harry liked it nonetheless.
She sipped her cocktail and let out a little shy laugh, obviously flirting, "I come here sometimes with the girls, it's not as wild as Vegas- which is where everybody likes to go for a good time- but, it's close, and relaxing."
"You come for a good time?" Harry said, deliberately coating his voice with interest and lust to woo her. He smirked, watching her bite her lip flirtily and nod.
It was pathetic really, he barely met her an hour ago, 'accidently' knocking her drink off the table, a simple 'oh sorry, let me buy you another one' and he had her eating out of the palm of his hand.
He smirked at her, leaning forward as she watched his every move, entranced.
"A good time? I can give that to you, darling," he whispered hotly. She smirked and bit her lip.
"Your place or mine?"
Harry smirked, "Yours."
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..
He lay in silence, Lara's, as he finally remembered her name, arms curled around his torso, snuggled into his chest. He lay wide awake, suddenly feeling like Harry in When Harry met Sally.
What was it with women and cuddling after sex?
He'd counted the cracks in the ceiling...twice. It had been ten minutes, and in the first two she had fallen asleep.
The sex wasn't even good either, she screamed like a banshee. Harry guessed her husband, whom she 'forgot' to mention, had plenty of mistresses to make up for his shitty young wife. The only good moments came first when they stumbled into the room and he got her clothing off, as she didn't notice he unclasped the pearl bracelet and necklace from her skin and slip them into his pocket, and secondly when he managed to clasp his hand over her loud mouth and release, ignoring the fact that she wasn't finished.
Yet now he was paying the price by enduring her bony arms clinging to him.
After twenty minutes he was absolutely bored, and slowly managed to replace his torso with a spare pillow, leaving the woman to sleep as he slipped on his black boxers, pants, shoes and dress shirt and quickly found her handbag.
