Breaking The Game [Book #1]

By smooonie

817K 27.6K 5.5K

21-year-old Allie Samson is a tattoo artist by day and a womanizer by night until she lays her eyes on Alix C... More

Author's Note
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Part 1
Chapter 4: Part 2
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13: Part 1
Chapter 13: Part 2
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17: Part 1
Chapter 17: Part 2
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24: Part 1
Chapter 24: Part 2
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34: Part 1
Chapter 34: Part 2
Chapter 35
Chapter 36: Part 1
Chapter 36: Part 2
Chapter 37
Chapter 38: Part 1
Chapter 38: Part 2
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46: Part 1
Chapter 46: Part 2
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50: Part 1
Chapter 50: Part 2
Chapter 51
Chapter 52: Part 1
Chapter 52: Part 2
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57

Chapter 1

31.8K 862 230
By smooonie

Allie

We laid in her sheets completely breathless and without a thought in our minds. This was probably the third girl I slept with this week and I didn't even know her name; not like it really mattered. If there's one thing for sure, I love all types of women - most shapes and sizes. I picked up what many people lacked; respect for the woman.

"That was amazing ..." She laughed. Her voice was relaxed and light.

I smirk, pushing myself up. "Of course it was. This is my night job."

I toss her white sheets off of me, exposing all of my skin. I'm completely naked, now ready to search for my clothes. This dim light isn't helping, but it sure did set the mood right.

"Where are you going?" She asked. I heard sheets rubbing together.

I get up off the bed and stand on my feet. I walk around to the front of the bed and stare at her. Her wavy brunette hair covers her chest. Her matching brown eyes demand an answer. I have to break the news to her like every other girl I slept with.

"I'm leaving. I got work in the morning. Have to make a living somehow, right?" I said.

She gripped the sheets tightly. "Will you come over tomorrow?"

I smirked. "Not a chance."

She sighed at my response. At least I didn't lie.

"So you're one of those people. Of course - I mean look at you. You're completely covered in tattoos. You have stretched ears and long black hair that gives off sex appeal. You have a toned body that fits you perfectly. Those blue hazel eyes are the real deceivers." She said.

I chuckled. "I'm glad you think of me that way sweetheart, but I really gotta go. Rule number one, no sincere conversations."

She rolls her brown eyes at me. Her skin looks smooth under the dim light we're in. I can see the small brown freckles on her arms and shoulders. During our fun time, I was sure I kissed each and every single one of them; getting to know someone on the inside though, just isn't me.

I look down at the floor to see all my clothes in a small pile. I bend over and grab them, carrying them as if they're prized possessions. I toss them down onto her bed, picking up and putting on a certain piece of clothing one by one. Her eyes are watching my every move.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked sadly.

"You can save my number and call me only for your - personal needs," I answered.

"What? So this is like a booty call whenever you want?" She asked.

"Take it how you wanna take it - just don't call me to hang out," I said slipping on my denim jeans. "I'm busy every week and weekend."

She sighed trying to make it seem like I didn't hurt her feelings. "Whatever Allie - I'll probably just delete your number anyways."

"Better for the both of us then right?"  I said putting on my black bra.

I put on my long-sleeved sweatshirt that's striped. It's black and grey with fabric that's light on the skin. I slip on my grey sneakers without my socks, since I can't find them. I run my hands through my tangled and messy hair, taking a few looks at my unknown victim of tonight. She's beautiful, like all of the girls I slept with. No girl with a beautiful smile and a great body ever slipped from my sight. It was just a hunger I could never satisfy.

"Hope you get home safe." She said dryly.

I shrugged looking around for my jacket. "I'll be fine."

"Do you even know my name?" She asked.

I paused in my tracks. I couldn't help, but smile. "Of course I do."

"Oh really? Then what is it?"

I spot my jacket on top of her white basket of dirty clothes. I quickly walk over and grab it. My jacket is dark brown with fur inside it. I put my left arm through it and then my right, adjusting it on my shoulders. I make eye contact with her again.

"Samantha - right?" I said.

"No!" She shouted. "It's Alyssa! Get out of my apartment!"

"Don't worry gorgeous I'm out of here."

"Show yourself out - Samantha." She said spitefully.

I quickly walk out of her room without saying a word. I laugh though because I get the same reaction from almost every girl.

Usually, I didn't get into much trouble with girls - until they met each other by accident or when I didn't remember their names. I'm a free woman myself, allowed to do whatever I want. I don't play around with any girl's hearts. I'm not that type of person. I always make it clear to each girl that I sleep with, that I will never be the relationship type and I'm clearly not into them emotionally. Of course, some of them don't listen or don't believe me.

I walk down her narrow hallway into the living room. She lives in a fancy condo with a British doorman and front desk people downstairs in the main lobby. Her living room and kitchen are semi-connected. Her windows are large and thin, covered by heavenly-looking curtains that lifted in the air whenever the cold breeze came rushing through.

I slam the tall white door behind me and wipe my face. I definitely need a shower. The hallway floors are covered in a dark greenish carpet. The walls are pearly white, decorated with paintings that don't look so hard to imitate. After all, I'm a tattoo artist. I can debunk the challenging from the child's play.

I smack the elevator button of the sleek matte black chamber. It lit up white with an arrow pointing downwards. Nothing in this building really matches to me. I know I got a bunch of dirty looks and stare's from a lot of the families and rich people that live here. This is the daily life of a completely tatted-up young woman.

When the elevator arrived, a family of four stepped out. The dark-haired wrinkly mother grabbed her two sons and quickly pushed them past me. The tall husky man that I assumed was the father, avoided eye contact with me. I chuckled and stepped inside the high-class elevator. The long list of floors made me zone out for a couple of seconds. I pressed my thumb against the main lobby button and watched the elevator door's come to a smooth close.

The ride down felt a little long since I was coming from the 25th floor. When the doors opened again, I rested my eyes on groups of people and families heading in all directions. I stepped out and made my way through the social frenzy like a ghost. The large doors that were both the entrance and exit were guarded by doormen and police.

I walked past them and into the slightly cold weather. Autumn is one of my favorite seasons. The leaves complement the city beautifully. My whole face is instantly numbed by the strong winds I seem to be walking against. Couples passed by me, walking hand in hand. I laugh slightly to myself. How could anyone ever let someone take control of their emotions? It seems like everyone is becoming a slave to love.

This is what leads me to rule number two; always remember you have no other person better than yourself.

People don't last forever and I've learned that the hard way, but not by falling in love with some girl. My so-called family taught me that being alone always worked out better. They kicked me out when I was just 16 years old. I dropped out of high school probably about a year later.

I'm 21 years old now, living the dream. I draw on people for a living. My friends are probably the best people I could ever ask for and I have a gift with the ladies. The best part - I don't have to worry about anyone down my throat and on my back about everything. I'm Allie Samson and I'm living the life everyone wishes they had.

I don't need family. My friends are the only thing closest to something like that and I don't need a girlfriend either. I just need myself - the only person I've ever relied on.

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