The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  I often question if Lucifer would have taken the woman if he had known the shit path it would lead us down.

  When I think of war, though, I imagine trenches dug out, lines drawn on some arbitrary map, bullets and grenades flying all over the place.

  Not this land grab of property and back room deals with lawyers and politicians.

  Sure, there’s enough death going on to keep the Reaper himself busy, but I’m not good at the political shit that Lucifer seems to thrive at. He’s been putting blockades around every empty storefront he can that the Russians could possibly be interested in.

  If he doesn’t buy ‘em, the fucking Italians do.

  The fucking Italians… What the fuck should I say about those damn bastards? They sure as fuck have paid us back with interest when it comes to being our allies. Ever since we started giving them real estate at the docks, and then the formerly controlled Yakuza areas, they have been at our beck and call.

  Yeah, they’re helpful all right, but it comes at a cost.

  If you ask me, a fucking big one.

  We have to be the big brother who fucking protects ‘em. Like last night, I had to be the backup for one of their big deals. They shipped some grade A weapons from our docks out to Ohio, where they’ve been fucking around with the Irish.

  It seems to me, for a good while, all the big power houses like the Italians, the Irish, the Russians, the Yakuza, and Lucifer’s group in Garden City, have been busting our heads against a wall fighting with each other. It makes me wonder if an actual widespread war will start up like it did back in the forties.

  Shit, times like that now could be very bad.

  They had guns and firebombs back then. We have the internet, guns, rocket launchers, and credit scores now.

  Leaning back against the barstool’s seatback, I tip the ice cold bottle of beer back and let the cold liquid wash the shot of tequila I took right before it down. There’s a big loaded burger sitting on the plate in front of me, and as I take a bite, I feel like I can finally relax.

  I just got back stateside a week ago, and I finally feel like my legs are stable enough to walk. Spending four weeks on a huge fucking ocean freighter had me feeling like I was going to puke every day, all day long.

  A month of fucking puke has me on edge. Thank fucking god, I don’t have to babysit any more fucking shipping containers.

  That motherfucker Simon… just his name is enough to give me heartburn. I called him as soon as I got outside of Neryungri, and he told me he had another job. I was still trying to get my hairy ass out of Russia without fucking dying, and he already had another job for me.

  I could have strangled him right fucking then, but no. He wanted me to ride back on a massive ocean cargo ship so I could babysit a fucking container of weapons.

  Don’t get me wrong, I do what I’m told, but that fucking boat… Fuck me running.

  The burger and beer are the first time I’m allowed to be my normal self. No suit, and by hell’s demons, no fucking tie. I’ve finally gotten into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

  I’m not Lucifer’s polished fucking killer here in my bar. I’m able to let my fucking happy dick flag fly.

  My bar is a fucking dive bar. It’s always been one, and with my fucking say, it will be one till I die. We don’t play fucking hip-hop or fucking pop music. We don’t have all them fucking girly drinks, and we sure as fuck don’t have the hoity-toity crowd in here.

  We have bikers, beer, hard liquor, and guys who just got off at the industrial plants. We serve food that’s made to fill the stomach, and beer that gets a man drunk.

  Fuck, we even started getting them fucking hipster guys in here for a couple of months until they figured out we really were a working-class bar and not the new trendy location.

  Missy’s raspy voice lifts my head from my plate as she stands directly in front of me. Her big fucking tits are on proud display and she pushes them out towards me. “Want another shot?”

  Shaking my head, I look back down at the fries. Those fucking tits are as real as I was happy on the fucking cargo ship. Even if I was into fake-bodied women, she just doesn’t do it for me. It’s easy to keep my strict rule of not shitting in my own backyard with her.

  “Nah.” My eyes look at the now empty bottle of beer. “Just get me a beer.”

  “Sure. What about a quick fuck in the back?”

  “Nah, I don’t fuck bar whores.”

  “Whatever, pencil dick,” she says as she pulls a beer from the cooler. Her words may sound harsh, and I’m betting so do mine, but it’s our style.

  Missy’s been here working for me since I bought the place three years ago. Her and Hambone. Hambone is the big motherfucker at the door who sits there watching out for her and my money.

  She’s been trying to get in my jeans since we first met. But I don’t do the relationship thing, or fake tits. She didn’t take kindly to being rejected, but now she just blows off my rejections as a term of endearment.

  Fucking nutty ass women.

  Looking in the mirror, I watch as the two women who came up earlier make their way back towards the bar.

  Missy grumbles loudly as the girls come closer. “Fucking Princesses.”

  We get these types every once in a while. It’s always entertaining when they figure out we’re not their type of crowd, but far be it from me to turn away daddy’s money.

  Turning back to my burger, I keep on eating it. The fries on the side can wait. I want to eat something with meat in it. I need the fucking proteins, I guess.

  They veer off from us, heading to the now silent jukebox instead.

  Turning my head to watch the red-haired girl walk away, I can’t keep my eyes from following her ass as it sways back and forth. No, she isn’t doing it on purpose, that much is for sure. If anything, she looks like she’s trying to minimize the wiggle, but with an ass like that there’s nothing that will stop its sexy sway.

  I swear she has eyes in the back of her head, though, because she looks back at me with aggravation. Fuck it, if she doesn’t want to be ogled for the sex-stick she is, she shouldn’t be in my bar.

  Giving her a wink, I turn back to my food.

  The red-haired, sex-on-a-stick must be the elected lamb sent over to Missy because she walks over to the bar and says, “The sign on the jukebox says we have to use tokens to play music.”

  “Yep,” Missy says with a smirk.

  “Well, can I buy some?” She frowns with annoyance in her voice. I think she’s the one who the blonde girl called Beth.

  “Sure, but you have to get the bosses approval.”

  Well, shit.

  I can just hear the rolling of the girl’s eyes as she asks, “Who’s the boss?”

  Pointing to me, Missy says, “Right over there.”

  Now Missy can distribute the tokens herself, but she loves to fuck with people.

  Looking up from my bottle, I say, “What kind of music are you going to play?”

  Beth has this mystified look on her face as she shrugs her shoulders. “Does it matter?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well…” she starts to say before stopping. I can tell she’s weighing whether or not she wants to keep talking to me.

  She does, I know it.

  It’s not like she didn’t feel that same fucking jolt in her body I got earlier. It went straight to my cock. I’ve been sitting here with half a fucking hard-on since I saw that delicate pink tongue come out of her mouth earlier.

  But those fucking hazel eyes. Christ on a fucking pogo stick. Those damn things melt my fucking brain.

  “Well?” I rasp out at her. Shit.

  She smirks at me then. “Taylor Swift, and then probably something melodramatic like Lady Gaga.”

  “Who the fuck are they?” I ask.

  She looks at me as if I’m an alien or something. “What?”

  “Who the fuck are those two people?”

  Missy starts chuckling loudly. “They’re pop music, Johnathan.”


  “Well, I doubt our jukebox even knows how to spell them then,” I say with a laugh.

  She gets this blank look on her face and shakes her head. “Okay, give me some tokens and I will play something good.”

  Lifting one eyebrow at her, I say, “Give her a couple of dollars worth, Missy. Let’s see what she’s got.”

  “Great,” Missy mutters as she hands over the tokens.

  Lifting my hand, I offer it to smiling girl. “Johnathan.”

  She looks at it for a moment as if it were some type of snake. Fuck, I got a snake in my pants if she wants to see one.

  Finally placing her soft, cool palm into mine, she says, “Beth. Thanks for the tokens.”

  I swear to fuck I feel a shock of electricity go through my veins as I hold her hand. It goes straight to my cock. Fuck me.

  A small cough from Missy shakes us both out of our stupor and I reluctantly let go of her hand.

  A small smile lights up her beautiful face and she turns away from me. This close, I see that the loose bun she has her hair twisted up in is holding a huge amount of hair.

  A quick image of her riding atop of my thick cock as her hair falls down, covering her breasts, streaks through my mind.

  Her hips slowly roll as her tight pussy milks me…

  Fuck, this chick is so mine tonight.

  Turning back to the bar, I grab my bottle of beer and take a long cold drink. I need a cold shower. Fuck, I feel like I have three fucking legs right now.

  She walks over to the jukebox and I watch as she gives her friend a hip check so that she can take over the music selection.

  “Jesus, you like ‘em young,” Missy snickers.

  “Yeah, you like ‘em fucking loaded.”

  “Long as it’s loaded full of cum and money, I’m a happy girl.”

  Shaking my head with a laugh, I try to take another drink of my beer before nearly spitting it out onto the bar in front of me.

  Both Missy and I stare wide-eyed at each other then we slowly look over at Beth. She turns her head and smirks at me as the opening roar of Warrant’s song Cherry Pie blasts out of the speakers.

  “Oh fuck, she’s going to be the death of you, Johnathan,” Missy howls with laughter as she gives a thumbs up to Beth.

  Shaking my head, I turn back to my beer and drain half the bottle. “I need another shot.”

  Snickering again at me, Missy nods. “Don’t go getting whiskey dick on the young girl.”

  Beth does a good job of picking old rock and hair metal. I’ve never been a big fan of some of the stuff she chooses, but it opens my eyes. Either she’s got good taste in music or she’s so fucking lucky that she should be shitting out gold.

  More of our regulars come into the bar, and at first, they give the girls a wide berth. They know not to fuck around with anyone in my bar.

  Don’t matter who it is, people don’t fuck with each other in my bar unless it’s me doing the fucking around.

  Soon enough, though, they’re treated just like everyone else. I see a couple of the guys eyeing the girls up, but none try to approach.

  Might be the vibes I’m giving off. The Beth girl is mine, least for the fucking night she is.

  Me and her got a thing we need to work out.

  She disappears to the bathroom and I can feel the ache of my bladder begin to push on me. Standing from the bar, I head back to the hallway leading to bathrooms. Walking in quickly, I do a once over in the mirror after I take care of business.

  I’m not the best-looking bastard on the block, but I did get my father’s strong Viking features. Running my fingers through my beard to get the scragginess out, I stare at myself for a moment.

  Looking in my eyes, I can see tonight won’t be enough with this girl. That touch of her skin was just too fucking much for it to be a one-nighter.

  Maybe a two-nighter will work…

  Walking out the door, I see the women’s opening at the same time.

  Both of us stop there, together in the hallway.

  She has a slight blush to her pale skin as she gives me a nervous smile. She may have been confident earlier with the music, but now she seems timid. It could be that I tower over her, maybe by a foot. She isn’t a tall woman, probably five seven, hundred and twenty pounds.

  She’s delicate and beautiful.

  “Hey, good choice in music,” I say.

  “Oh! Thank you… I love music. Just about any kind is my favorite. It’s a passion for me.”

  I nod my head. “You picked a good list. Anytime you come here, you get free reign on the jukebox.”

  Her eyes twinkle as she says, “Thanks!”

  I take a step toward her and she takes a step back, bumping into the wall. Leaning close to her, I can’t help but grin as I watch her eyes widen and that blush deepen.

  Yeah, I got her right where I want her.

  I put my hands on the walls, caging her in.

  Being closer to her, the difference couldn’t be clearer. I smell like guns, oil, and motorcycle engine grime. She’s the opposite of me, smelling of lilac soap and a faint hint of perfume wafts through my nose. It’s not overpowering, like what her friend Sophia has on.

  It’s something else… maybe her body’s natural scent.

  “Wha…” she starts to say before I lean in even closer.

  “What?” I ask as I stare into those soulful, hazel eyes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Figuring out how many days it’s going to take to get you out of my system.”

  Her eyes widen. I think the confusion on her face makes it obvious that she’s not as experienced as I first thought. She has this innocent air about her that makes my blood rush to all the right places.

  She smells so pure and right.

  Leaning in until our foreheads are barely touching, I give her a smile. “You and me had a spark back there at the bar.”

  “We did?” she squeaks out, and I nod.

  “Yeah. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.”

  “I… I…” she stammers.

  I can’t control myself any longer as I stare at those plump, pink lips. My mouth pushes down hard against hers. Her lips are so soft, so smooth and inviting.

  She pulls away from my kiss and gasps. “What are you doing?”

  “What you’ve been dreaming about,” I say with a smirk.

  She wanted that kiss as much as I did. She may have pulled back at the last moment, but right before she did, she pushed against my lips.

  Leaning in again, I kiss those lips and this time she doesn’t pull away. Her hands reach up to my chest and she grabs my shirt.

  Tonight is going to be a good fucking night.

  Our tongues glide against each other as I slide a hand off the wall. First, I run my hand along her back, then I grab her juicy ass and pull her hard against my cock.

  My cock is going from a semi to a full fucking raging hard-on of steel.

  She moans as she shifts one hand away from my chest and brings it up behind my neck. She holds me in place as we spar with our tongues. I feel her leg wrap around mine as she tries to get even closer to me.

  It’s only our need to breathe that stops us from ripping each other’s clothes off right now and here.

  “So what are you do—,” I start to ask her when a horrible screech comes from the front of the bar.

  Her friend Sophia comes running back to us with a wide-eyed look of terror. “Amanda just blasted all over the place… It’s like a nightmare or something.”

  I have no clue what blasted means until I get a small whiff of Sophia. Looking her up and down, I see a wet circle at the bottom of her jeans.

  Yep, blasted must mean puke.

  “Shit,” I grumble at the same time as Beth.

  We look at each other and she laughs. “This is going to be gross.”

  Heading towards their table, I see a huge puddle of liquid with what looks like tissue paper in it. “Who the fuck pukes tissue paper?”
/>   Giving me a nasty sneer, the brunette puke girl says, “You’re an asshole!”

  “Yeah and you puked up tissues,” I growl as I feel all the arousal sliding out of my cock.

  Grabbing at her friend, Sophia starts dragging her up from the chair. “We need to get you home.”

  The other nameless girl nods her head and she helps from the other side.

  Beth gives me an embarrassed smile and says, “I’m so sorry.”

  Digging through her purse, she pulls out a one-hundred-dollar bill and tries to force it into my hands.

  “What do I want that for?”

  “Because of the mess. I feel horrible… but we have to take her home.”

  Ah, I get it.

  Fuck.

  Suddenly a hot wave of possessiveness rolls through my body and I feel my muscles tightening up. I don’t want to let her go. No, I want to keep her right fucking here with me.

  We still got shit to work out, god dammit.

  I look her up and down, the wheels spinning inside my head. She’s so small, she wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight. I could throw her over my shoulder and lock her up in the back room… but I’d never get away with it in front of her friends and a bar full of witnesses.

  Shit.

  Shaking my head, I point to Hambone. “Give it to him. No way am I cleaning that shit up.”

  The patrons all move out of the way as three of the girls begin to make their way towards the door.

  Laughing, Beth turns to go but I gently pull her back.

  “Wait,” I say.

  She looks startled. “Huh?”

  “I want to see you again… though maybe without your friends. Come by tomorrow night.”

  “I… I can’t. It’s not that easy…”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” I ask.

  “No…” she starts to say.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  She shakes her head some more. “I can’t, really…”

  Does she really think I’m going to let her get away that easily?

  “Look, what’s your last name?”

  “Norton,” she says and then frowns. “I shouldn’t have just told you that.”

  “Beth Norton.”