Dirty Pleasures – The Lion and the Mouse Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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“Oh. . .damn. . .Emily!” I shouted out, submitting to the oncoming wave of pleasure threatening to rip me apart.

My seed surged out of me, spurting into her with a potency that left me breathless. Her walls squeezed my cock, wringing every last drop of my cum from me. I could do nothing but ride out the storm, holding onto her as the world spun around us.

How did she do that?

From somewhere far away, I heard her let out a high-pitched scream, shuddering as yet another orgasm ripped through her. The sound of it was so beautiful; it felt like a sweet symphony to my ears.

I yanked her forward, embedding my face between her breasts, inhaling her scent and savoring the intimacy of our tangled bodies.

My sweet mouse.

She collapsed on top of me, panting heavily.

The rhythm of her heart thundered against my face, matching the frantic tempo of my own heartbeat.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her in closer as if fearing she might slip away. “Mysh. . .so dangerous.”

Chapter twenty-three

Silver Dollar Sam

Kazimir

The sleek silhouette of the Silver Specter Inn rose before us, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.

Emily had managed to slip my shirt back on. The fabric hung big and loose over her curvy frame. Meanwhile, she tied Maxwell’s jacket around her waist.

I couldn’t help but steal glances at her, noting the way the moonlight danced across her face.

Behind us, the convoy of SUVs came to a halt and vomited my men out. Maxwell, Tisha, and the others all wore their exhaustion like a second skin.

I exited the car. Gravel crunched softly under my feet.

I held the door for Emily and offered her my hand.

She climbed out, her bare feet barely touching the ground before I scooped her into my arms.

A soft protest escaped her, her body tensing as she sought to assert her independence, even in such a small way.

“Stop it.” Although I kept my voice gentle, it was a clear command. “You have been through a lot, and you are barefoot.”

She looked up at me, and those eyes held defiance.

“Just enjoy the ride, mysh.”

With a sigh, she relented and leaned her head against my shoulder.

My mouse’s surrender was always a gift.

I moved forward, carrying her towards the inn. Her warmth seeped into my bones.

We stepped inside and I finally got a chance to really scan the place. The other times I’d come here tonight, I had been in a rush.

Even at this late hour, the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air, mixing with the rich scent of polished wood and aged whiskey. The plush carpet underfoot and the gleam of gold fixtures added a tactile richness to our entrance, enveloping us in the inn’s lavish embrace.

She scanned the space too—the plush carpet and gold fixtures.

The first thing that struck me about the inn was its perfect attempt at encapsulating the lifeblood of New Orleans.

Jazz.

Gold framed portraits of legendary musicians graced the walls, their expressions capturing the soul and passion of their craft. Where there were not images of jazz legends, large cases hung filled with vintage saxophones, trumpets, and trombones. Not just decoration but a homage to the city’s great musical heritage.

The inn provided an upscale restaurant along with two bars, all constructed to allure tourists with deep pockets and a penchant for the city’s darker tales.

I smiled. “King David told me the history of this place.”

Emily quirked her brows.

“The hotel is connected to the New Orleans Mafia from long ago, specifically to Silvestro Carollo, known as Silver Dollar Sam.”

Tons of my men flanked me.

I gazed down at her. “Have you ever heard of Silver Dollar Sam?”

She shook her head.

“Surely the US has more important gangsters than him.” I took us toward the elevators. “Regardless, in the 19th century, Silver Dollar Sam’s rise to power had been marked by cunning brutality.”

Emily watched me.

“According to King David, Silver Dollar Sam had acquired the property in a lavish gesture for his secret mistress.”

Emily frowned, probably not liking that he was cheating.

“The hotel was their sanctuary, hidden from the prying eyes of his wife.”

She raised her hand and pointed at my head.

“What?”

Then, she formed her hand into a gun.

A dark chuckle left me. I gently touched her hand, smoothing her fingers back out. “I would never cheat on you.”

Satisfied, she laid her head back down on my shoulder.

“Their tale took a dark turn when Sam discovered that she had fallen for his brother.”

Emily snickered.

One of my men pushed the button for the elevator.

“What occurred next was a night of violence. Sam—consumed by betrayal and rage—murdered his lover and brother.”

The elevator doors opened.

I carried her on.

Several of my men followed.

The rest remained there to wait on the next ride up.

As the doors of the elevator slid shut, I continued, “After that, Sam went mad, and his empire crumbled.”



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