I sit and wait until my Queen finishes gathering the files we need. The one pump chump is sleeping on the couch. I watch her exit the room with a thumb drive in hand. She was so incredibly sexy and looked sexually frustrated. Her sexy mouth is pinching together, which makes me want to run my thumb over them. As she sorts herself out, I collect my things. I open the blacked-out car, waiting for her on the street below.As I watched her exit the building, my Queen sobbed as she carried herself across the street. The sight makes me want to run to get her, to help her into the car. However, I know that would only piss her off further. When she opens the door, she practically falls into the leather seat. Mascara is running down her face, with tears choking her. The only time that I want to see her like this would be if she were gagging on my cock. That thought gets me hard, wanting to lick her tears away.“Was he that bad?” I try to lighten the mood, not knowing how to improve this situati

Queenie Packing for a mission that I don’t want to be on in the first place is putting me in a piss poor mood. I went to the gym and beat the ever-living shit out of a punching bag, picturing the crying bitches face. The faceless woman was the least of my problems, but right now, she was the easiest person to be pissed off at. Was she everything I wasn’t? I bet she was soft where she needed to be and had big doe eyes that could cry so pretty. If I figured Joker out, he would need someone who would be soft and listen to everything he said or wanted. Yeah, I know that’s never going to be me. Maybe that’s part of my problem is that I know exactly what I want. Or at least I think I do. Someone to take charge of me in the bedroom. Someone that can blow my mind by shutting the damn thing off. I cannot seem to focus enough on my pleasure. My mind is always getting away from me. It might be time to face facts and realize that the toys that line my closet will be the closest thing to a rel

Queenie Joker opens my door for exactly ten minutes. He is efficient, and even though that normally would please me. I pour another drink, hoping the burn of the bourbon will calm me down. The first one has done nothing to calm the rage I feel. The asshole moves closer to me, and that damn mark on his neck taunts me once more. It taunts me as I think of all the reasons she must be better than me. I grip my glass tight, and before I know it, I let my anger win as I launch it at his head. Joker’s quick reflexes kick in, and he ducks out of the way, and the glass connects to the wall, shattering. He knows what I am annoyed with and scoffs. “Seriously? How often have I had to see you get fucked or even hear it?” He moves so I am in his sight, and I can’t believe he is starting this conversation. I figured he would want to tiptoe around it like he normally does. He is the expert at dodging complicated issues with us. “That’s different, and you know it! I didn’t want to be with any of t