𝚮𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 18+

14 || PUPPETEER

𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝𝕤 (𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕) – 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕟𝕕
CHAPTER FOURTEEN | PUPPETEER
𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

Storm was sceptical. And not in the usual way he always was but of how well-versed she was on the computer. He was especially sceptical when the girl walked up to him with a blush on her cheeks and she asked him to bring some parcels up that she'd ordered. His scepticism only grew when he saw that all she'd bought was for the computer so she could spend even more time staring at the screen.

He didn't like it.

But alas he was too busy uncovering who helped aid in hiding her identity.

Storm rubbed the back of his head, leaning back and letting out a sigh.

"What's gotten you in such a pissy mood? Has Selarom been fucking with you again?"

Storm shot a glare at his friend, watching the man as he rubbed his nose free of the white powder, a crooked grin growing on his face. Storm didn't know why he spent his time entertaining Andrej. Maybe it was because his whores were always willing and available just for him.

Selarom, the infuriating hacker who had it out for him, hadn't in fact been annoying him. And Storm didn't know whether to be calm or to be paranoid about that. What storm was Selarom cooking? Surely something. It had been a decade of relentless bullying of the Bratva or more specifically Storm's operations, Storm's men, and Storm himself. So much so that Storm couldn't help but feel as though it was personal. And it was personal. At least to Storm it had been.

He'd kill the fucker if he ever found out who Selarom was.

Storm didn't answer his friend, however. He simply glared at Andrej until he started getting uncomfortable and fidgety. Fucking pussy.

"Storm," some bimbo moaned, rubbing her gummy tits against Storm and biting her overfilled lips, blonde soft strands of hair falling against him. He couldn't even remember her name despite being almost certain that he'd fucked her at least a dozen times.

Easy and desperate. Those were the traits he usually searched for when bedding a woman. It made satisfying his needs easier. But despite that, they never seemed to manage no matter how hard they sucked, how tight their pussies were and how slutty they were.

All skin acted the same. All women looked the same. They were all just a pile of bones and fat for his taking. All so desperate for his ten inches.

"Get. Off."

Her grin dropped and fear struck her face. Tears filled her eyes as she turned around, stumbling over her own feet as she ran away and rightfully so. Storm had killed people for less.

"Huh," Andrej hummed, furrowing his eyebrows. "That's a first."

Storm pulled a cigarette out of the white gold cigarette case he always kept in the pocket of his slacks. He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it, all while glaring at the uncomfortable-looking Andrej. The first drag of smoke calmed him enough to answer his annoying acquaintance. "Her tits have started to sag."

Andrej's eyebrows furrowed further. "Sure." He didn't seem too convinced. Andrej's women were all between the ages of eighteen and twenty-eight. "Where have you been? I barely see you these days. The boys have been wondering."

The boys, or as Storm called them: his chew toys, feared him enough not to wonder. What Andrej really meant to say was that he'd been wondering.

"Home." Mostly, he wanted to add. When he wasn't home, he was fucking a long-legged faceless whore which he had found himself doing quite often. Sophia annoyed him so much, that he found himself fucking his frustrations away multiple times a day to keep his anger at bay. It only pissed him off even more whenever he came home and saw that she was still sitting by her computers.