Unedited.
Biggs POV.
She's bad.
And when I say bad, I don't mean that in a bad way. She's a bombshell.
I like to call her Malibu the tatted beach blonde Barbie. The only difference between Harley and the human's doll baby Barbie is the fact that Harley is covered with countless colorful markings and a couple of piercings.
Oh, and the eye color difference. Harley eye color is the exact same shade as Hoax, black, and pure white transparent soulless tornadoes. Other than that Harley and Barbie are basically twins.
I slide my hands from out of her inamorato pants before I plant a soft kiss down onto his warm lips. He moans and then walks away.
"Yes, really," answer Hoax, while walking over towards his lover slash porn star. Once there he wraps his arm around her tiny little waist and then shoves his savory tongue to the back of her throat. All I can do is shake my head.
What can I say? I already said that those two were made for each other. "Pull down my pants," he demands. "I need my dick sucked."
Aye, captain! Harley's actions speak louder than words as she follows his order with a devilish smirk. Again, they are meant for each other. The duo!
"Get a room," I snap while taking my leave and getting as far away as possible from that room before the moaning begins.
"I have one," calls out Hoax, "Meet me there, oh fuck baby! Yeah, that feels good," he starts to moan and the rest is history.
Again, all I can do is shake my head. They are fucking freaks. Most duos, pairs, or whatever the hell you want to call them are. Once, a hunter male and a hunter woman claim one another they truly become a set.
Blood in and blood out...
That's just the way that it is. I'll never claim an inamorato and I mean that shit. I refuse to spend my days dealing with and relying on another person. Once, a hunter accepts that bond and love it becomes a package deal.
Why settle down when it's so many fish inside of the sea? At least, Hoax and Harley live by that rule. I swear I've been so tempted to give in and allow Harley to work her magic on my sex. Everybody knows she wants to. I heard it's good. Hoax said that Harley lives to please him and nothing will please him more than having the two best fuck of his life sharing his bed every night.
He's such a pig.
"Hey, chica," greets, Night as I walk down the staircase. She's my best friend. The best bitch this world has to offer.
Night Falls. The beauty and brains of our little gang. She's smoking hot with her bright and brilliant grey eyes and her wild and dirty blonde hair. Plus, she has the face of an angel I swear.
Forrest really lucked up with her.
Oh, yeah! I forget to mention that she is my half brother inamorata, which basically means that she is his pair. They were made for one another. That's another reason why I agreed to go and rescue him from his pathetic suicide mission. They haven't seen each other for almost a century but that selfish fuck didn't dismiss their bond. So, my lovely BFF Night can't move on even if she wanted to. Forrest is an asshole. He did that shit out of spite.
I've attempted to sway her numerous of times to go and get some dick anyway, but she downright refused. She's a fucking fool.
I mean sure it would have probably crushed him and he would have most certainly felt an intense amount of pain but that's his problem. Hunters can feel when their pairs are making love with someone else and if it's done without consent, I heard it hurts like a bitch. Now, if it's down with their consent it's rumored to be delightfully bliss, erotic even if you ask the other hunters around here.
I guess that's another reason why Hoax and Harley are down to get with the get down. Those, two have a different hunter in their bed every night.
Night has been working on a rescue mission since she found out exactly where he was and I must admit that her plan has been pretty mapped out.
For starters, she used her father to her advantage. He happens to be the ruthless vampire king sweet ole aunties beloved. So, Night requested his protection in exchange we stay out of their political affairs, or so they thought. It's deeper than that. Let's just say that Night Falls is the goat.
"Hey, chica," I greet back after checking her out. She's look bomb as ever, wearing nothing but a black lace lingerie set. "Where are you going, hooker," I can't help but question.
Damn, she looks good.
"Didn't Hoax tell you," questions Night, while looking me up and own. Her pink, full, and perfectly plumped lips then turn into a wicked smirk. Here it goes. She's about to start her usual teasing session.
"Tell me what," I ask right back while walking into the gun range room. If I can't practice my fighting techniques, I guess I have no choice but to practice my shooting, which happens to need the least amount of practice if I do say so myself. My gang doesn't just call me Big Bad Banks for a reason.
A girl like me knows how to Bang! Bang!
Dying the fuck laughing, now that was corny! But it is the truth.
Speaking of which, where is everybody? Now, that I'm thinking about it. The house is so quiet you can probably hear a church mouse and that's not normal. Our gang is small but they damn sure know how to make some noise. Seriously, you can never get a single ounce of peace and quiet around here.
"So, did Hoax tap that ass again," says Night, drawing me back in. Yeah, right! In his dream.
"In his dreams," I voice my opinion out loud while searching for my favorite gun. The Beretta 92 FS. The best got a damn pistol that one can use for over a little over a quarter and two centuries now.
It was designed to be the most accurate, durable, and reliable semiauto handgun on the market in the year of 1972. This bad boy was manufactured in Italy. My dad's homeland! I've always been fascinated with it. Easy to use, absolutely safe, and delivering impressive firepower, it was the sidearm of many military's and allied forces all over the world once upon a time.
Countless human police and law-enforcement agencies also utilized this bad boy. I love how the pistol features an open-slide design, short-recoil delayed locking-block system, reversible magazine release, ambidextrous safety-Decker, tool-free disassembly latch, and sweat and corrosion-resistant finish. You name it. I call her my favorite bitch.
This pistol was made for me. Seriously, the manufacturers of this bad boy even named it after me. Awe, my golden days! I miss them.
With that being said, I handle my baby with caution. I always treat her like's she is loaded, even though I know for a fact that it is not. That means not to place my finger anywhere near the trigger unless I'm about to let this bad bitch lose.
"Beretta," Night voice knocks me out of my haze. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
No. "Yes," I lie. Night hates it when I ignore her.
"Stop lying," she says while rolling her eyes. "I said that I agree that Hoax has his way with you inside of his dreams,"
This time, I'm the one rolling my eyes. She's still talking about Hoax. I guess it's a reason why I wasn't listening to her after all. You see, everything happens for a reason and the reason why she was getting ignored is that no one wants to talk about him. Do you see how that works?
"Anyway, the gang has gone down to the Hunters Den," Oh, so that's why it's so quiet around here.
The hunter den is where hunters from all around South America go to let loose but I know one thing. My niece better not have tagged along.
"And where is Amorata?"
"She's sleep, duh. Where else will she be?" She better be, I think to myself. I swear I should have named that girl headache because she is my personal migraine.
"It's lingerie, birthday suit type of event," Night continues on about that got damn party. "Hoax said that he will make sure you will be there and bear,"
"Hoax is full of shit. I'm not going to that bull shit. We are leaving tomorrow we need to train," I tell her while inserting a loaded clip into my favorite bitch. Then, I pull the slide back to the chamber, aim at my target, and then squeeze the trigger.
Bang! Bang! My bloodsucker target is hit in the head. The fanger is dead. Well, not really.
It takes more than a bullet to kill those fangers but it still feels good to bust a cap inside of their thick as a skull.
"Come on, B," pleads Night. "You need to get out of this house and have some fun. Whatever happened to work hard and then play harder," she questions. "Come on, B," Ewe!
She knows damn well that I hate parties. I'm the only one in the gang that doesn't attend parties. I'm a homebody. I prefer to stay at home and read. In fact, that's exactly what I shall do. I can read that diary that I found at the bloodsucker Kings Abandon house the other day. Reading is fundamental partying is draining.
"I don't have time to play," I respond. "I will never participate in that fuckery,"
"Yes, you will," suddenly says Hoax as he walks into the room with his pants hanging low and big dick swinging freely.
Anyone with eyes can clearly see that he is freshly fucked. Whelp! That was quick.
"You're going, Biggs,"
"And why would I do that," I raise my eyebrow and question.
"Because I said so," he responds with a shrug, "Plus, the other gangs are hosting a little competition and I need my best hitter to attend."
No, he doesn't. Our gang is the number one gang in this continent for a reason. Every single member who has taken the pledge is considered to be the most valuable player.
Now, sure I can shoot but so can just about everyone else inside of this gang.
"You don't need me, Hoax," I say while sliding another loaded clip into my best bitch. "Our gang is the gang to be in for a reason. Whatever member of ours decides to join that bull shit as competition will win. None of the gangs around here can compete where they can't compare," I brag while eyeing my target. "You know like I know that the win is a shoo-in," I brag harder, taking a shoot.
Bang! Bang! The bloodsucker now has a bullet inside of his dick.
"Harsh," says Hoax and Night in unison. I roll my eyes. They are so dramatic.
"Your right," surprisingly, Hoax agrees with me. Before, walking up behind me and then placing his arms around my waist. His dick pressed up against my back and his cool breath is fanning my neck.
We stand like that, our bodies pressing and decompressing like he didn't just finish working out.
"Rebel Rose," he suddenly says, whispering down into my ear. "She has entered the competition,"
Now that my friend changes things.
Say no more, "I'm down,"