Chapter One

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Chapter One 

-This story is unedited, and subjected to change-

I knew the moment that I laid eyes on her I had to have her. My body hummed with energy, my muscles grew thick and my cock, while you can guess what he was going thinking about.

"Grayson." Tuck's deep voice said my name with questioning. He probably saw something catch my eye and wanted to make sure that I hadn't become side tracked. I ran a hand through my thick hair and then down my face. It had been months since my last adventure outside of anything that didn't include knives, death, or blood being spilled across a concrete floor.

"Tuck." I said his name with the same tone, my eyes meeting his dark ones. See I was a killer by nature, born into the career you could say. I had a vengeance for blood from those that took from me. If your name ended up on my list, you were good as dead. Tuck's eyes narrowed in anger. He knew I wasn't fucking around tonight. I was going to find someone to take back to the dingy hotel.

"She's to pretty, to..." Tuck paused for a moment. "To goody too shoes. If you know what I mean." He had leaned in close to me, the whiskey on his breath permeating the air. I was used to it by now. I understood the need to drink to cover up all the chaos you saw at the end of the day.

I eyed her from the balcony seat. Clubs really weren't our thing. They were crowed, loud, and a fight could be caused in a matter of seconds if you fucked with the wrong people.

"The good ones, always fall the hardest for the bad boys." I shot him a smirk, downing the rest of my jack and coke. I wasn't really ready to get up and converse with anyone, I was more ready to slam balls deep into someone and listen to the sound of our skin smack against one another's. I guess conversation was a good place to start though.

"Good luck Gray..." Tucker laughed, pulling some blonde from the corner of the booth into his lap. I knew what was going to happen between the two of them, that's why getting up and leaving what my best option. Tuck loved, the loud ones. The ones that begged for it but then cried no later one. I couldn't stick around to listen to that bullshit. I had to find my own pussy to sink into.

Getting up from the booth, my boots felt heavy against the sleek flooring. I didn't fit in here, if anything I stuck out like a sore fucking thumb. I was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white t-shirt I planned on getting covered in blood later, and my lucky leather jacket. I didn't apply any cologne, and I didn't style my hair like many of the other jackoffs in this place did.

"Hey..." A sultry voice mumbled off to my right. I kept walking though, not even giving her the attention that she desperately craved. Hell I was desperate for some action but not that desperate. Even the world's most deadly killers had standards. My eyes circled the floor from the top of the stairs. The place was packed with your standard male and females. It smelt of sweat, and sex, mixed with alcohol. I could feel eyes on me, and immediately I honed in on whom it was that was staring. It had been the same chick that had caught my eye from across the room earlier.

She had long dark hair that was pulled back in pull-my-hair-fuck-me kind of way. She was wearing a dark dress, and her eyes were a blue that reminded me of the ocean. Staring into them, I could feel a wave of uneasiness wash over me. She was going to be trouble with a motherfucking capital tee for me. Without further hesitation, I descended the stairs, reminding myself that I was hear to find good sex, drink cold beer, and kill some fuckers that deserved it. That was that.

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