Built From Ruin
blackmafiastories
- Reads 1,386
- Votes 52
- Parts 1
"Look at me. Get a real good look. Because that's all you'll ever get."
I blew the smoke from his blunt right back into his face, slow, deliberate, sweet little smirk on my lips as I sat on his lap like it was my throne. His jaw flexed, eyes burning into me, pissed.
I leaned in closer, my voice low, calm, and sweet.
"I don't give a fuck who you are, what you do, what you own... or that little toy gun you carry around."
His brows tightened, but I kept going, softer, slower.
"If you want to speak to me, if you want a conversation with me? You book an appointment. That's how I handle my clients."