Blow
She was his best dealer and she let him fuck her sometimes too. Drug Dealer AU
Disclaimer: M for intercourse, references to drug use, drug dealing, graphic depictions of violence, vulgarity and language. Kind of dark but mostly just illegal. If you are uncomfortable with this premise or under 18, please do not proceed.
Cover Image by: Kartasmita on Tumblr
This will likely be expanded from a one-shot, to three parts.
Blow Pt. I
Sakura made him the most money out of everybody that worked for him. She was his best dealer.
She never sampled the product, always came back with more profits than anyone else and she was clean, organized and efficient.
She sold his inventory at parties and all over her college campus to the right people and she was good about not getting caught.
His other dealers were decent, but he'd been surprised when she'd slowly started turning into his number one. She had the least amount of experience and when she'd started, the least amount of knowledge about product, distributors and the entire supply chain.
It helped that her pussy was tight and she let him fuck her sometimes too.
He was fucking her now.
She'd stopped by to make a drop and re-up before the weekend. Her campus was kicking off Homecoming and then going into midterms and she'd informed him that sales would likely be double to triple for amphetamines and pot in anticipation of this.
It was Friday night. He'd just come back from meeting with his distributor, a two hour drive away. He'd been tired and cranky and then she'd showed up in a fucking cheetah print mini-skirt and a black leather crop top, her pink hair done in waves. She was click-clacking around his condo with chunky black heels that gave her an extra three inches of height. He knew she was vertically challenged. She barely came up to his shoulder when she'd swing by in sneakers.
He'd spent 10 minutes nodding at her with his arms crossed as she laid out what she needed for tonight and the weekend beyond, listening and taking note.
She was blinking at him, her sparkly green eye shadow contrasting against her green eyes. Had she asked him a question?
He'd reached for her then, bending her over his dining table and running his hand up and underneath her panties.
"Oh, shit. Okay," she had said in response.
Her hands gripped the edge of the wood as he touched her from behind.
"You know you came here dressed like a fucking prostitute right?" he asked, as he felt through her wetness.
She panted.
"I'm going to a party right after this."
He shook his head behind her.
"If people start thinking I'm dealing with prostitutes, it will fuck my shit up. Don't come here looking like this ever again," he growled at her.
He was moving his fingers in and out of her now.
"Sorry. Uh. Can you make it quick? I can't be too late to meet these guys, they want—"
She moaned. He'd unzipped his pants and entered her without much warning.
"—They want like a pound of blow for their frat house this weekend."
He grunted as he moved himself in and out of her.
"No fucking way. That's too much for a bunch of fuckboys in a frat. They'll have people OD all over your school and then I'll have a problem."
Sasuke was older than her. Maybe eight years max, give or take.
She was a junior in college so that put her at about 21 or 22 depending on her birthday.
She was just a little too young for him, he knew that; but the sex was so casual and sporadic that he didn't linger on the thought much.
"I'll give you a zip at most for them. That's it," he continued.
She huffed, he was pounding into her and the slapping of their skin making contact was loud. It was making her undeniably more wet.
"F-fine," she said.
He gripped her hips, he'd slid her mini-skirt up her body, her ass exposed. She was wearing a thick, black mesh thong that he'd moved to the side for easy access to her.
As much as he liked the back of her head, he wanted to see her face while he plowed her now, so he pulled out and flipped her around.
She looked disoriented and flushed. Her eyes caught his for a moment, they both had their shirts on still— she'd made a request for it to be quick anyway.
Her rectangular, feathered handbag had fallen over on the corner of the table. It was just large and wide enough for her to stash an exorbitant amount of pills, powders and cash as she made her rounds.
As he lifted her at the waist to seat her on his table, the bag fell off and to the ground with a clatter.
It popped open, the contents spilling all over the floor.
"Ah, shit," she grumbled.
She was about to slide off to reach for it, but he stopped her and held her in place.
"Leave it."
He spread her thighs open so he could fit between her legs.
She puffed out some air. Her breath smelled like cinnamon gum.
She moved her thong to the side again for him, and then he entered her once more from the front.
Her head tossed back, her palms flat behind her, holding her weight.
He leaned forward and put his hands on each side of her body, but found that he needed to anchor himself to her better to get the deep penetration he was looking for.
He moved his hands instead to her rib cage and then aggressively pulled her body on and off of himself, her lower half sliding on the table. The leather of her top was sticking to his fingers.
She'd wrapped her legs around his waist, but her foot was still jostling in a crazy way with his movements and her eyes were focused on the erratic shake of her heeled feet behind him.
Her palms slid on the table as he pulled her forward and backwards. She'd lifted her head to look at him.
His brow was furrowed, his face set into a grimace as he fucked her. He was looking down at himself entering her tightness.
She laughed breathlessly, "You're super horny right now, aren't you?"
His eyes lifted to hers, unimpressed.
She whimpered an, "Ow."
He was hitting her cervix now and it was uncomfortable. She said as much.
"Deal with it," he grumbled at her. "I'm fucking tired and yeah, I am horny, and you showed up here so…" he continued, still barreling into her.
She pouted at him, then complained.
"I'm gonna look so fucking sloppy at this party. No one wants to buy drugs off a loose looking slut. It'll ruin my credibility!"
He smirked at her, his hands moving down from her ribs to her hips so he could move her against himself differently.
"Don't call yourself a slut," he said, breathing hard.
She made a face at him. Her mouth opening for a moment from the feel of him, then closing before she responded.
"Weren't you just scolding me for showing up to your place looking like a prostitute?"
She could feel his fingers bruising her hips.
"It's different when I'm saying it, than when you're saying it," he bit out.
She groaned, "I'm going to go dry if we keep up this topic."
He grunted, then pushed at her until she was flat on her back on the table.
Another thing about Sakura, she was flexible.
He gripped one of her legs and pushed it back, until her shin was at her shoulder, her leg straight as a board. Then he laid his torso on top of her and fucked her bent in half.
Her other leg was dangling off the edge of the table now, pressed against the outside of his thigh. His feet were still planted on the floor as he pushed into her.
She moaned again, one of her hands coming up to hold her leg in place at her shoulder, and the other pulling at his hair.
That was it, he was going to come.
He came inside of her, without announcing it. He just did it.
She gasped at the feeling.
"Hey!" she complained.
He rode it out, his forehead on her unoccupied shoulder.
"Do you need to come, or are you trying to get out of here?" he asked, clinically.
He lifted his head to look at her flushed face, his angular features serious.
She looked at her smart watch. He hadn't moved yet.
"I have 10 minutes," she states.
He gets her off in five.
Someone had ripped her off and they'd ripped her off bad.
In his line of work, that sort of shorting equated to an execution.
But he couldn't just go around having some dipshit from Sakura's college campus executed.
Then he'd really have a fucking problem.
He groaned. She hadn't been robbed before this. If she'd been anyone else, she'd have been beat for the loss as well.
But she was his number one dealer.
And her pussy was tight and she let him fuck her sometimes too.
"I'll just shoot him in the knee," he offered.
"No! No! You can't just shoot someone on campus in the knee!" she whisper-yelled back at him.
She was nervously ringing her hands at her apartment, as he stood across from her in her unit's front hallway. His eyes were drawn to the movement.
She lived alone, just on the outskirts of campus. It was an area that was just shady enough that it didn't attract too many other university students as neighbors.
He was pretty sure there was a trap house a couple blocks east. One of his other dealers made most of his coin at that shithole.
He wondered if she walked home by herself in her mini-skirts and hooker heels at night. If she did, he was quite frankly surprised she hadn't been robbed of his profits sooner.
He'd have to ask her. That was actually a liability and a real cause for concern for him.
He looked up at her again.
"Well, I wouldn't do it personally. No need for me to dirty my hands on this low-level asshole. I'd send a guy."
She didn't seem convinced. She was swimming in an oversized t-shirt as she stood in front of him. He was pretty sure she was wearing shorts underneath it, but he couldn't see any off a glance.
"He's a sheltered college kid, he would just call the police!" she reprimanded.
He shrugged a clothed shoulder. He was in a cream colored hoodie with a light black jacket over it. He'd come through after she'd called him in a panic.
"You can't rob that much of my money and roll over on it. Sorry," he said, simply.
She looked disturbed.
He rounded on her, invading her space. She walked backwards a couple steps as he advanced. It was dark out, her apartment poorly lit.
"This isn't normally how this works," he said, ominously.
She looked up at him nervously as he spoke. His voice was low.
"Normally... The dealer who lost the money—"
He eyed her pointedly.
You.
"Would be dealt the... repercussions."
He was intimidating her right now and she didn't like it, but he was scary by nature and she didn't really have any other option than to hold her ground.
She couldn't believe she let this guy fuck her. Repeatedly.
No one else had that privilege in her life. Everyone else was a one-off.
"What, like you cut off a finger?"
He gave her a disbelieving look.
"No. This isn't the fucking mafia. We just shoot your ass dead and replace you with someone else."
Her eyes widened. What?
"So, as I was saying," he continued. "I'm going to make an exception here and have that piece of shit, shot in the knee."
His hands were gripping the skin of her waist underneath her shirt now. His palms were cold and she scrunched up her face at the chill.
"Don't get yourself robbed again," he warned.
He brought his face down to hers and said, "I won't make an exception twice."
She gulped as she looked back at him. He was serious.
She was leaving one of the clubs she frequented for her rounds, when she'd been unexpectedly pulled by the forearm into an alley.
She'd panicked for half a second, thinking the worst, but she froze when she recognized the two quivering idiots in front of her.
They were roommates with the guy who had robbed her.
"Hey... we don't—we don't want trouble," one of them said, voice wavering.
The other shoved the large Ziploc of amphetamines into her arms.
"Here. Take it back," he said forcefully.
She'd looked down at the bag for a second, and they'd run off. Scared. Terrified.
They had been eyeing her like she was Satan.
She took the bag to Sasuke's the next day.
"See. That's how shit works," he'd said as he took it back.
She'd looked at him, unconvinced and a little frightened.
After that fiasco, he'd informed her that her current apartment was too high risk for him. If she were to get jumped and robbed of all of his profits walking home, he would not be pleased.
"It's all I can afford," she says.
He starts cutting her a higher percentage of what she flips.
"Find a better one," he says.
Her new apartment is much nicer. It's in a safe, clean and well lit part of the downtown area. The distance is the same from campus as before, if not a little closer.
It has two bedrooms and quartz counters and stainless steel appliances and a balcony and an in-unit laundry machine.
"How is this?" she asks, letting him inside.
"This is fine," he says, looking around appraisingly. "I don't have to fucking worry about you losing $10k on a walk home in this."
She nods her head at his approval.
"Did you bring it?" she asks, after a pause.
"Money first," he prompts.
She groans.
"Come on! You know I'm good for it."
Nevertheless, she goes into her kitchen and opens the freezer.
She lines the bottom of it with bands of cash, her frozen food items sticking out on top.
She pulls out five fat straps and then bends over, digging out a bill counting machine from a cabinet.
His hands are in his pockets, his expression serious.
"Run it," he demands.
She sighs. He was being annoying tonight.
She runs the stacks through the machine so he can see the counts.
He approaches her side of the counter to look over her shoulder at the bills funneling through it.
They settle their business within 30 minutes.
Afterwards, she looks like she wants to ask him something, but then she doesn't ask it.
He raises an eyebrow at her.
"What's your problem? You want to fuck?" he asks, bluntly.
She shrugs.
Yes.
He's railing her on her new couch, fucking up into her from below as she rides his dick. He supposed he usually initiated this, so she'd been unsure how to.
His expression is bored as he looks at her bouncing up and down, but he thinks he feels something close to affection internally. He'd discarded his clothes this time. She was naked too.
He runs his hands up her front, groping and pinching at her tits.
One of her hands comes to rest over one of his.
The other hand comes down to rest flat on his chest so she has more balance.
She's grinding on him hard and he allows it for a little while longer before he pulls her down against himself and fucks her from beneath, setting a punishing pace. She moans, then drops her hand down to rub at herself until she comes. Then, he comes too.
"No party tonight?" he asks.
She's spread over him for a moment, she'd slipped off of him and stretched her body across his.
"No," she says, yawning. "I have to study."
He makes to sit up and she backs up off of him.
His feet are now flat on the floor and he spots a couple different sheets, notes and textbooks on her coffee table.
She's studying some topics as they relate to advanced finance and economics. He puts his hand on his chin and skims over her notes, then points out a number of things she's missed in her analysis. He also re-explains a concept to her that she's clearly misunderstood from the way she's taken notes on it.
She looks perplexed for a moment as he's shuffling around to get dressed.
"Thanks... why do you know that?" she asks, grabbing a throw pillow and tugging it to her body. She remains seated on the couch.
"I have a Master's degree in finance," he tosses out.
"What?" she asks, flabbergasted.
He shrugs.
"Didn't work out. This."
He grabs at the thick parcel of his cash that he'd come to retrieve from her this evening, pulls it out of the inside pocket of his jacket on the floor.
He waves it under her nose, "This. Makes more money."
He gets up off her couch, looking for his pants.
He shouldn't have told her about that.
He's worried she's going to start fantasizing about him being her boyfriend or some other insane, stupid thing a young girl who is barely 20 years old would do when you fuck her casually, inadvertently supply the money that pays her bills, and then tell her you're actually an educated drug dealer and not just a deadbeat drug dealer.
She doesn't do anything of the sort however. He could count on her to be professional.
Normally, he wouldn't have more than one of his dealers come through his place at a time.
But Sakura's schedule and his and Gaara's were all tight today and he needed their money and they needed to re-up.
Except he hadn't realized that Sakura knew his other dealer.
They both look surprised to see the other in his condo.
"Yo! What gives Sakura?" the redhead asks her.
"H-hi!" she responds.
He's never heard her sound nervous or shy like that before.
He side-eyes her, then confronts her later, when they're alone.
"Have you fucked that guy?" He's genuinely curious.
She blushes faintly.
"No," she says.
"But you've wanted to?" he asks.
She shrugs, "Once upon a time."
He starts giving Gaara less product to move after that.
She was blowing him in his condo, in the room he'd designated as his office, and she was doing a good job at it.
He found himself wondering how much dick she'd sucked to get this way and he frowned.
It had to have been A LOT.
She stopped, feeling him tense. His junk falls out of her mouth with a wet plop.
"Something wrong?" she asks, wiping her lips.
He looked at her with distaste from his desk chair, his pants were unzipped and she'd pulled him out, but he'd otherwise been clothed.
"You're sucking dick like a porn star. Why?" he asks, sharply.
She squinted her eyes at him from her spot, kneeling below. She was missing her top, her lacy black bra still on and her cheeks flushed.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I like it," she says, simply.
He pulled at her pink hair briefly, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back again.
"Well, like it some more," he said, with a wave of his hand.
He missed her soft smirk as she continued.
He was going down on her and it was weirding her out. She felt hot all over and squirmy.
She didn't really let anyone do this to her and the few who had, certainly didn't do it like this.
His tongue was flat against her clit, his mouth in an open suck against her.
His soft, choppy, black hair was in his eyes as he licked at her and from her vantage point, his head between her legs was a highly erotic sight.
Oh, my god... my boss' head is between my legs, she thought.
Unwittingly, her legs began clamping around him, a subconscious attempt to kick him out.
He smacked his hands against her inner thighs and held them open.
She gasped as he looked up.
"What's wrong with you?" he questioned.
Sakura looked down at him and found herself getting more embarrassed.
He lifted an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to respond.
She looked off to the side.
"Um," she started. "I don't let people do this often, so…" she trailed off.
He drummed his fingers against her thighs, his eyebrows now drawn together. Not in confusion, but something more akin to scrutiny.
"So... you want me to stop?" he asked.
She shook her head, no.
"No, don't stop. Just…"
She felt impossibly young right then. Like he was making her feel adult things because he was a full grown adult and she was still a fake one.
The assessment wasn't wrong. She knew he was like 30 and she'd barely cleared 21 just last year.
He glanced at her for a moment longer, then went back to sucking on her pussy. This time though, he kept his eyes on her as he worked.
She looked back, her eyes wide.
He was still holding her open but he moved one of his hands to her center, moving two of his fingers in and out of her while he ate her.
She inhaled sharply, her fingers flying to his raven hair at the change in sensation.
She felt herself start grinding against his face.
His eyes shut briefly and he groaned.
The vibration against her clit made her shudder and come unexpectedly, her pussy gripping his fingers tightly as she spasmed.
He still kept her legs open with one of his hands. She was trying to clamp her thighs around his head again.
When she settled down, she opened her eyes. She felt like a mess.
He was looking at her intently from between her legs.
"You good?" he asked.
She nodded.
He kissed the inside of her thigh and pushed back on her couch, into a kneel.
"Cool. I gotta go," he said, looking at her and then standing up.
She gives him a questioning stare from below, still spread open on her sofa.
"This asshole is late in paying me. I'm going to handle it," he supplies.
She grimaces. What did that mean?
He gives her a look, then says, "Lesson for you, don't be late."
He was fucking her more often, but she wasn't complaining.
She'd made a ton of sales this past week in anticipation of graduation for the senior class above her.
She'd counted out the bills on the kitchen counter at his house, running them through a counting machine in front of him.
He'd left her pile of take home cash substantially higher than usual and she'd raised an eyebrow at it, then shrugged and slid it into her tote bag.
She hadn't made it out the door though. She was on all fours in his bed while he pounded into her from the back. Hard.
She moaned at his relentless pace. Absently, she noted that they'd never fucked in here before.
Her small hands fisted into his sheets as he continued. He smacked her ass and she jumped, clenching against him, then moaning some more.
One of his hands slid from her hip up to her hair and he fisted his hand into it and yanked.
She huffed. Her head being pulled back changed the angle of his penetration.
His other hand was digging into the fleshy cheek of her ass and she felt like it was likely going to bruise. He'd bruised her hips before.
"How many other people are you fucking?" he asked, out of the blue.
She let out a breath and panted, then peered at him over a slim shoulder. Or she tried to at least, he was still pulling at her hair, so her mobility was restricted.
"Just—just one night stands sometimes," she answered.
He froze, unmoving for a moment. Shit. She was only having consistent sex with him?
Not good, he thought. She'd get too attached that way.
She screamed. He'd moved his hand from her ass to her clit and pinched.
"Ow!" she cried.
He raised an eyebrow at the back of her head, then softened his ministrations.
He let go of her hair, thrusting in and out of her, rubbing at her center and gripping her hip again.
She came pretty quickly from that.
"You didn't come?" she asked curiously, turning her head to look at him.
He shook his head as he pushed her forward, flat on her stomach onto his mattress.
"Are you—? Do you want to?" she asked, out of breath.
His mood had changed after she'd answered his question, she could discern that much.
Had she said something wrong? She'd answered truthfully hadn't she?
He hovered above her form as she stretched her naked body out on his bed.
He probably shouldn't have fucked her this often, he thought to himself.
Somewhere along the way he'd lost sight of the fact that she was working for him and taken advantage of the fact that she'd spread her legs for him pretty easily too.
It was the best and most sex he'd had in a long time.
He sighed. His dick was still hard.
He sank into her again, this time as she laid on her front.
He molded his chest to her back and she gasped loudly at the heat of it.
Her head was turned to the side on his pillow and he rested his chin on her shoulder as he moved in and out of her again.
She was looking at his side profile up closely as he nailed her, her hands tucked underneath his pillow and clasped together.
He turned his head to give her a lazy kiss and she moaned into his mouth as his cock scraped against her insides.
She clenched herself around him a couple times and then he lifted himself off of her and came onto her back.
He sighed. Spent.
It was late, like 3:00 a.m. late.
"You can sleep here, it's late," he said.
She side-eyed him over her shoulder, he was back to kneeling over her again.
"Fine. Clean me off first," she demanded.
He gave her a look, then got off his bed to find some napkins.
Standing next to the bed with a handful, he cleaned his dick off, then used a new napkin to wipe his come off her back.
Then he took a third one and wiped at her pussy. She inhaled sharply at that.
"Th-thanks."
He tossed the used napkins into the trash bin in the corner of his room, then dug through some drawers and pulled on fresh boxers before climbing over her and dropping himself next to her.
She stayed lying on her stomach, peeking at him from beneath her hair.
She fell asleep soon afterwards.
He slept next to her on his back.
He'd woken up before her.
She was still facedown on one of his pillows, snoring softly. So softly it sounded like she was taking light breaths rather than full on snoring.
He'd shifted to his stomach too it seemed and had thrown an arm over her back in his sleep.
He assessed this for a brief moment, unmoving.
Then his phone was vibrating aggressively on his nightstand.
He groaned and reached his other hand towards it, keeping an arm over her for now.
He flipped it open, it was his burner.
"Yeah?"
He'd left her sleeping in his bed and arranged a drop with one of his other dealers. A crappier one who always came back short on cash with unsold product. He made sales more sporadically than most and he was stopping by to explain himself.
He was thinking of cutting the guy out of their arrangement. He'd lost too much money on his dumb ass to continue.
He'd been berating the guy when Sakura had come out, dressed in her tight dress from the day before. Her head had been down as she adjusted her watch strap and walked towards her bag. She'd thrown it on an armchair in his living room.
She hadn't realized she'd interrupted anything yet and he paused in irritation.
It was kind of his fault because he'd mostly left her there and kind of forgotten about her, but he was still aggravated.
"Okay! I'm leaving now!" she looked up and noticed what she'd walked into.
"Oh— sorry?" she floated.
She reached for her tote bag. One of the straps fell loose in her hand, the stacks of bills inside being revealed to the guy he was basically firing.
The guy got more heated as he noticed.
"What? She sells for you too, but pussy made of gold rakes in bank like that and you fire me?" he said, scathingly.
Sasuke glares at her. Get the fuck out of here, is written all over his face.
She cringed as she slipped on her shoes and booked it.
She made a call me sign at him with her hands and disappeared out the front door.
Her stepbrother, Naruto had introduced them to each other.
"This is my buddy Sasuke!" he'd proclaimed.
They'd been at a club, the room dark and loud and full of blaring strobe lights.
Sakura had given him a bitchy glance. She was 19 and there to party.
They had booze and bottle service and a table and she was underage and broke and just wanted to drink.
"Ugh, it's lame enough I have to drink with my brother, but now I have to meet his lame friends too?"
Sasuke found himself mildly offended at this comment, but ignored it.
The loser's sister was young.
Her face was kind of innocent, but kind of not. She looked like she was bad, but trying to hide it, he assessed.
"Oy, Sakura, leave the bastard alone. He rarely comes out anymore. He's celebrating," Naruto supplied.
She looked at Sasuke suspiciously.
"Celebrating what?" she questioned.
Naruto side-eyed Sasuke. The answer was not appropriate to share.
Naruto knew he'd just been 'promoted,' his distributor tasking him with moving more product at higher quantities and higher quality.
He was the direct connect to the largest drug distro in the metro. All other dealers in the area copped en masse through him and from there it trickled down further to their own networks or small time pushers.
Neither of them said anything about it to Sakura though.
Hours passed.
She'd been annoying him all night.
"So, what do you do though?" she'd asked.
Over and over and over again.
Most people in their group had left the table by now and were drunkenly on the dance floor.
Naruto was leaning over the bar trying to order a drink, even though they still had a quarter of a bottle left from their bottle service.
"Are you a drug dealer?" she questions.
He gives her a glare. He's leaning back against the wall, his legs spread while seated.
Shut the fuck up, he thinks.
He can see her getting excited, even though he hasn't affirmed or denied anything.
"Do you have any on you?" she whispers.
She's starting to feel up his leg with her dainty hand and he slaps her away.
"Stop that," he seethes.
She frowns and straightens out her metallic silver dress unabashedly in front of him. She's adjusting her breasts inside the strapless garment, and his eyes are drawn to the action.
"You're mean," she huffs.
She turns away from him and takes a shot, then turns back to him.
"Well," she sniffs. "There's a huge market on campus for stuff. I bet I could make a lot of money if you let me help you," she winks.
He glares at her some more, then looks her up and down, assessing her.
She is a tiny pink haired thing, not exactly bony— she looks soft enough.
Her hair is shoulder length and choppy, her lipgloss kind of smeared from taking her latest shot.
She'd get jumped in two seconds, he thinks.
"You'd get robbed in two seconds flat," he states.
Her eyes light up.
"I KNEW IT!" she says, triumphantly.
He gives her an unimpressed look.
"The kids on campus aren't like that," she whispers.
He finds himself unwillingly listening to her.
"Everyone is like, studying and trying really hard, but they also want to party hard. Work hard, play hard? You know?" she continues.
She lists the top drugs she knows her circles keep asking about, but can't seem to find.
Pot, blow, Adderall, molly, acid, shrooms.
He gives her his number and takes hers too.
When she comes to cop for the first time he hands her a Ziploc full of pills.
She reaches for it, but he holds it back.
"Last time I saw you, you were telling me you could make a lot of money from this," he starts.
She looks at him with confusion.
"That's incorrect. I make a lot of money. Me. You get your cut after everything is sold. Understand?"
She nods at him. The tip of her nose is pink, it was cold outside today.
"Don't short me, don't test the product, and don't fuck up and get caught," he continues.
She nods again.
He shoves the bag into her hands.
"Start there, let me see what you can flip in a week," he says.
She's halfway out the door before he tosses, "And it goes without saying that you don't tell your stupid ass stepbrother that you're working for me either."
Naruto had walked in on them at her apartment.
He'd been sitting in the middle of her couch and she'd been straddling him, riding him recklessly with her hands gripping his shoulders.
His arms had been stretched along the back of her couch, his head leaned back as he let her do the work.
He was tired again today. The meeting with his distributor had run long and the drive back had been jammed with traffic.
Instead of going to his house, he'd stopped by hers for a quickie and to collect her money for the week.
"Sakura-chaaaan!"
Sasuke heard the loser way too late to be able to do anything about it.
His head came up lazily, his eyes making contact with Naruto's blue irises over Sakura's nude shoulder.
"Wha-what the FUCK?!" Naruto screamed.
Sakura gasped, her eyes opening.
She looked at Sasuke's face briefly, then looked over her shoulder for a second, seeing Naruto in the front doorway. She snapped her head back around, then pressed herself against Sasuke's chest, attempting to hide her front and maybe her entire soul away from her brother's prying eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing to my sister you fucking bastard!?" Naruto yelled.
Sakura moaned in embarrassment.
Sasuke had flung one of his arms protectively around her back, his hand splayed flat near her spine. She'd remained seated on his cock, but she was still actively burrowing into his front, hiding her face and trying to exit the situation.
Whatever. He didn't give a fuck. He'd handle it.
"Fuck off loser," he responded.
Naruto was frozen.
He couldn't take his eyes off of Sasuke and Sakura fucking on her couch, though Sakura looked like she was melting into the bastard at this point.
The scene was just too—too fucking comfortable! And familiar!
How fucking long had they been doing this for!?
Sasuke raised an eyebrow at him.
"You realize the longer you stand there, the longer you'll have been staring at your fucking sister. Naked?"
Sasuke paused for a moment, thinking.
"And me too, for that fucking matter," he added, scathingly.
Naruto choked.
"Dude, I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he growled.
He stared at them for a moment longer then backed out the door.
"I'm coming back in an hour. You better not be defiling my sister some more when I do!"
Sasuke looked down at the top of Sakura's head as Naruto slammed the door shut.
He was miraculously still hard inside of her and he shifted a little to bring her attention to it.
She straightened up, her cheeks rosy and her gaze fearful as she looked over her shoulder at the closed door, then back at him.
One of his arms was still wrapped around her back, the other still stretched alongside the back of the couch.
She gave him a pouty look as he thrust up into her a couple times to restart their session.
"That was awful," she whined.
He shrugged. It could've been worse.
"Get a move on," he said, nodding at her.
She looked confused and still kind of thrown off by the entire interaction.
"Ride me," he clarified.
She gazed at him as he leaned his head back again. She leaned forward to suck underneath his jaw.
His arm on the couch flew to grip her too.
She rode him as requested, circling her hips on him and dropping herself on and off of him with vigor. He held her with both arms at her back, hugging her slim body as they both eventually orgasmed.
"Who's that older guy that's always stopping by your place?"
Sakura was standing in front of her closed door, rifling through her mail. She had stuck her key in the lock but had yet to turn it to open it.
One of her neighbors was nosy and currently she was hanging out her own door, staring wistfully at the elevator. She was either waiting for someone or had just seen someone out.
Sakura didn't comment about the random guys always filing in and out of her house! She ignored her, and turned the key.
"Are you guys exclusive?" Ino asked, again.
Oh. She was being a slut.
Sakura shrugged. Then said, "I don't think so."
"So he's fair game?" Ino asked, eagerly.
Sakura gave Ino a dirty look before she gripped the doorknob and pushed her way inside her apartment.
"I don't think so," she said, again.
She slammed the door shut.
Sakura was drunk and getting railed by some guy she'd met at tonight's party.
She sighed.
He sucked.
His dick was partially limp. He kept slobbering all over her and he'd gone in for a kiss but his breath had smelled like stale beer and Cheetos.
Ugh, she cringed.
He'd looked jacked and kind of hot downstairs, but he'd brought her up to his room in the frat house and had immediately morphed into a disgusting, overgrown, man-child.
Her phone started ringing from inside of her bag and she jumped up and out from underneath his sweaty arms to answer it.
Thank fucking god.
"Whoa, what? Where you going babe?" he questioned, confused.
She was standing half naked at the computer chair near his desk, digging through her purse for the proper device. She yanked it out and answered.
"Hello?" she said, flipping it open. It was her burner.
"What are you doing? You're late this week."
Her boss did not sound pleased.
Shit.
She hadn't had time to stop by Sasuke's house to pay him. She'd had exam after exam and then worked party after party.
"I'm sorry. I lost track. I'll come through tomorrow," she responded.
The lame-o she'd been trying to bang, chose then to ask loudly what the fuck she was doing.
"Are you gonna get back here and fuck some more, or what?!"
She cringed.
Sasuke was silent on the line for a good minute. She held her breath. Finally, he spoke.
"No. Come through now," he said, sternly.
And then he hung up.
She needed to stop by her house first to pick up the cash.
She was a little shaky. She had never been late before and she was a little worried he was going to punish her.
She took a quick shower to wash that loser off of her body and then changed into something more casual than her party outfit. She opted for a white tee, frayed jean shorts and some chunkier white sneakers.
She tied her hair half up with a velvety scrunchie.
She'd stuffed her tote with all his money, touched up her face with a little concealer and some mascara and then hopped on the bus that picked up outside of her apartment.
It was nearing 11:00 p.m. and the bus took her on a 15 minute straight shot, up the main street and to his condo.
She let herself in.
She was mid-sentence, apologizing for losing track of time, when she froze in the doorway.
He was sitting on his couch, shirtless, smoking a cigarette and pointing a gun at her.
Her eyes widened.
"Um," she squeaked out.
He gestured with his gun for her to come closer.
Then he took a drag of his cigarette as she warily shuffled in and said, "Shut the door."
Oh my god, I'm going to die, she thought senselessly.
She knew this had been too fucking easy. Everything she'd seen in the movies about dealing this amount of drugs and handling this amount of money always equaled bodies being buried.
She wasn't sure how she'd lasted this long.
The fact that her pussy was tight and she let him fuck her sometimes too might have helped.
He sat there, his gun pointed at her still, his eyes assessing her up and down as he smoked. He ashed in the ashtray in front of him.
Her eyes were stuck on the barrel of the rifle pointed at her.
"Get over here," he demanded.
She gulped nervously and approached timidly as she reached the other side of the coffee table. He commanded her to sit down, on the ground across from him.
He was still pointing his gun at her but he had put his cigarette out now.
"My money?" he questioned.
She gestured to her tote.
"Count it out in front of me."
Her eyes shifted briefly, looking for a cash counting machine, but he shook his head and clicked his tongue at her.
He gestured at her with his gun some more.
"By hand."
She looked at him, upset. He was being scary.
She couldn't tell if it was because she'd been late with his cash or because he had overheard her with some loser on the phone right before this. Or maybe it was both.
Great. What the fuck had she gotten herself into?
She sniffled as she dumped the contents of her tote upside down on the table.
Numerous stacks of bills fell out, all rubber banded together.
He sat back on his couch, his gun resting on the sofa cushion beneath his hand, still pointed in her direction.
He was looking at her intently from down his nose, his hair wild and unkempt in his eyes.
She swallowed as she grabbed the first stack.
She attempted to count through it, got to $825 and lost count.
She was nervous and fumbling.
"What's the hold up?" he questioned.
"You're—you're pointing a fucking gun at me!" she finally complained.
He shrugged, "You were late."
He leaned forward.
"Do you know what I do to people who are late?" he questioned, ominously.
She shook her head then said, "I can guess."
"Can you though?" he countered.
She wrapped her fingers in the hem of her shirt, looking at him worriedly from her spot on the floor. He continued.
"You come in here and spread your legs and get away with murder, but you really don't know shit about any of this," he scolded, waving his glock around.
She looked put out now.
He was the one that had come on to her to begin with, and initiated it almost every time.
Why was he implying otherwise?
She remained silent. She didn't like his mood and he was still holding his gun.
"Start over," he gestured at the bills.
She tried, but she lost count again. This time around $950.
He shook his head at her, "You're fucking doing it wrong."
She pouted.
Well he could go fuck himself, she'd only ever funneled it through a bill counter!
He tucked his gat into the back of his pants, scratched at his bare shoulder, then picked up one of the many stacks strewn across the table.
He pulled the rubber band off easily, then taught her something new.
"Don't count it out as is. '100,' '200,' '250,' '300.'"
He emulated what she had been doing, shook his head in the negative, then stacked the bills again.
"No. Separate your bills."
He divvied out a pile of hundreds and fifties from the stack.
"Then count the number of bills."
He started with the hundreds in one hand and quickly dropped each one to the table with his other hand, his brow furrowed. The action was reminiscent of a card dealer at a casino, rapidly counting and shuffling cards.
"There are 30 bills here," he said when he was done. "How much is that?" he questioned, looking up at her pointedly.
"$3,000," she supplied quietly.
"Good girl. Count the rest."
He sat back and watched her aloofly. She learned quickly and he liked that about her.
He'd fucked her standing up after that.
He'd specifically demanded that one of her legs stretch high and rest on his shoulder, the other leg on the ground, her foot flat on the floor.
She was a little stiff for this she knew, but the guy had been waving a gun at her for the better part of an hour and then bossing her around through the count of over $15,000. She was not going to deny him anything right now.
She'd been apprehensive, "I think I'm too short for that to work?"
"Keep your shoes on," he instructed.
She was wearing sneakers with an extra inch or two of platform.
She felt like she was being torn in half, she was held open so wide.
She moaned loudly, her eyes rolling back as he fucked her in the middle of his living room. He had one hand around her ankle, holding her leg tightly at his shoulder. The other was planted on her opposite hip, pushing her on and off of his dick.
Her arms were thrown around his neck, gripping on tightly for support.
The flexibility thing was a definite plus and he attributed it to her young pliant body.
"Did I interrupt something?" he asked, grunting.
She answered breathlessly, briefly looking into his onyx eyes, "I was... at a... party."
"Were you fucking someone at this party?" he questioned.
He pushed into her a little too hard there and she yelped at the feeling. Her hand opposite her stretched leg flew down to dig into the skin at his chest. She kept the other around his neck.
She bit her lip, he'd briefly circled his fingers across her clit but he'd gone back to gripping her hip just as quickly.
"Mm. He sucked, he couldn't even get hard," she shared.
He smirked. College kids with whiskey dick couldn't satisfy her.
He had high doubts a college kid would even have the confidence to get her in this position.
"And he smelled like a Cheeto," she continued.
He laughed briefly.
"Wow."
He fucked her some more in this glorious stretch, but then felt her legs begin to shake. She couldn't hold the stretch for much longer.
He lowered her leg from his shoulder, his hand still wrapped around her ankle. He bent her limb at the knee and pumped in and out a couple more times before letting her leg drop. He let go of her opposite hip too, noticing some bruises rapidly developing on the skin there from his fingerprints.
She bent over in front of him to regain the feeling in her joints, touching her toes with her well manicured hands, then hugging the back of her knees with her arms to relieve some pressure.
She groaned, "Ow…"
She was going to be sore tomorrow. She liked being sore from sex, so she wasn't too bothered by the prospects of it.
He reminded her to take off her shoes, then grabbed her hand and took her to his bed and finished out fucking her in missionary. It was the first of many times he took her that way.
Someone's demanding to meet with her connect.
She would have thought that the guy Sasuke had shot in the knee would have served as a warning to any other aspiring entrepreneurs. Apparently though, that kid had been scared so shitless, he'd told everyone he'd lost the mobility of his leg in an ATV accident.
She's not sure what he told the hospital however. An ATV injury didn't look like a gaping gunshot wound.
"Yeah, but who supplies you? We want to meet with him, not you."
She's getting nervous, these guys were being a little aggressive with her and she was in the back seat of their car, sitting next to the one that's trying to shake her for information.
Her eyes dropped to the door handle, was it locked?
"He doesn't want to talk to you guys," she says.
"How do you know?" he counters.
"I just do."
The guy next to her had reached for her then, unhappy with her responses. He'd grabbed at her shirt and yanked her towards him.
She'd gasped and punched her arm out at his face, then kicked her leg at his crotch. She'd made contact, his sharp inhalation of breath being an indication, but not before he'd shoved her again; the side of her face colliding with the closed back door window.
"Dude, what the fuck is going on back there?" the guy in the passenger seat asks, turning around to look.
She's scrabbling with the door handle, trying to get out of this fucking death trap.
The guy in the driver's seat looks spooked.
"You're an idiot man, you shouldn't have touched her. What if her connect is some crazy ass motherfucker that flips a shit over this!?"
"Yeah right bro, that shit isn't real," the guy in the backseat responds. He's kind of hunched over in pain at his groin, and she falls out of the car and runs.
Sakura is unhappy when she comes to his place and tells him what happened. There's a light bruise on her cheek from where she'd collided with the closed window of the car.
He's looking down at her face with displeasure, a look of disgust painting his handsome features.
"I hit the door flailing when I pulled away," she grumbles, her eyes downcast.
He is mad about it, but not at her.
"I'll meet with them. Sure," he says, tonelessly.
She should have known that meeting with them meant pistol whipping them and then curb stomping their teeth against the asphalt.
She cringes and turns her head away. She's sitting in the passenger seat of his car, the window down, watching.
Ugh, he was so violent!
He spits on them.
"Don't fuck with me," he says.
She goes home with him after that. She is hugging herself and she gives him a look as they stand around in his kitchen. He is icing his knuckles with an ice-pack he's pulled from his freezer.
"I don't want to do this anymore," she says, quietly.
He feels himself glaring, and he feels a little betrayed.
Didn't he just half murder a bunch of fuckers for her, what the fuck?
She notes him looking at her with crazy eyes and presumably a bit of shock. Maybe he's misunderstood her, she thinks.
"I mean. I don't want to sell any more," she clarifies.
He nods. Ah. That made more sense.
"You can help me with other stuff instead. If you want," he offers.
She grins and steps closer to him, looking up at him from beneath his chin. Her hands are resting lightly at his chest.
"Like what!?" she asks, excitedly.
He looks down at her, the corner of his lip lifting up.
He's happy he can keep her around and she's happy to stick around.
After all, her pussy was tight and she let him fuck her sometimes too.
TBC...
This came outta nowhere. Back to our regularly scheduled programming. Marionette Chapter 17 WIP. Comin soon!