The second installment (the sequel) to Ace of Spades is now out.
Read 'The Hanged Man' once you've finished this one.
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A rascal with a penchant for making friends with the wrong people, you were often regarded as a troublemaker by...
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KID -- NOW
Monet slithered into Kid's lap, running her fingers through his hair before she trailed a kiss over his neck; a crooked smile in place when his hand tightened over her ass. No matter how many times he cursed her out or confessed his hatred for her, in the end, he always accepted her with open arms; regardless of the nature of his feelings. And yet, she often found his gaze distant and angered whenever they fell upon her. Wondering what they meant.
Still, that didn't erase the growing infatuation she felt for him.
"It doesn't matter how many times you kick me out, I'll always come back to you." Her fingers skimmed over the distended hardness in his ever-tightening cargos. "I do this for you and only you, my love." Monet's eyes slid off Kid, looking down at the bulging member in his pants, hoping he wouldn't change his mind halfway through as he'd done the last time before she suddenly felt his hands turn her on her back, earning a grin from the mint-head.
Then, groaning in excitement, he simultaneously tore her shirt and pants off with one clean bite, teeth snagging onto the material. And leaning back, his gaze seeming to drink in every detail of Monet the same way Kid knew he was in return, he took hold of both her wrists and pinned them to the headboard; eyes gleaming with silent malice. A familiar one that had Monet shivering in place.
"Love...is it?"
Though his voice was civil, there was a hint of something more beneath the undertones of his calm reverberation; something dark at work. And it had Monet reeling in place.
To distract herself from it, she writhed in place, hands attempting to unlatch her bra until Kid pressed harder against her, growling instead of speaking as he fished out a pair of cuffs from his pockets. Wordlessly then, he latched each side to each wrist until the girl found herself unable to move.
"So you're into that, are you? I mean, I certainly don't mind a little foreplay before getting to business. Never mind BDSM, but I didn't think you were the type to go down that alley. Then again," She seductively traced the outline of his cock with her toes, "You never cease to surprise me." She purred, at last, Kid's eyes darkening a fraction before he stepped back, knocking onto the oak frame of his door with a subtle expression of manic glee. Not long after, the blonde, masked head of Killer popped in, in each hand, clutched a curved dagger of sorts; one serrated, one dull.
Silently, the redhead took hold of the serrated blade, the blackened hilt molding to his hand. Lifting it to the trickle of light from his tinted window, he smiled; the glinting edge just as dangerous and as sharp as the crude smirk on his face.
"Do you know why I prefer a serrated blade over a plain one?"
Kid leaned down, the blunt end tracing Monet's clavicle with great care. The end barely piercing the soft skin, eliciting a small whine of fear from the mint-head.
