The King of Crime and his Woman | @atacost
"Oh, oh, oh! And you should’ve seen his face, sweet cheeks. The little shit swallowed his own vomit because he knew better than to get them on my custom loafers!” In the den of the eccentrically decorated and highly coveted home of the crime king of New York City stood the pair. Aiden Young, with his handsome features darkened with tattoos, bruises, and the signature cut that ran along his entire face, stood with an enthused expression as he swirled a gin, tequila, and cranberry juice tonic in his hand. The drink, much like the man who nursed it, was a dangerous combination of insanity. At the far off corner of the den was his most recent exploit; a blonde beauty who shared the same flesh and blood as the senator of New York. “It makes me so goddamn happy! So... Goddamn... Happy,” Aiden offers with a nostalgic gleam in his eye, as if the event was a beautiful incarnation rather than the torture of the Department of Justice’s newest district attorney. “Awe, come on sweet cheeks, have a little bit of fun.” Jostles Aiden as he brings the drink to his lips and tugs at the extravagant tie ringing in his neck. The mad man of New York was infamous for his long list of discarded beauty queens. They come to him young and innocent and leave battered and fearful. He practically filled the asylum with once-proud women now deranged and fearful. Except, perhaps, the longest conquest of his existence -- Denver. Of course, she feared him. But he saw something else. Fascination. So he kept her on, removed her shackles, and kept her stowed away for his amusement. She wouldn’t run, she knew better. “Haven’t you ever wanted to try it yourself?” Trotting over to her dramatically, he stops so that her perky face was inches from his. “Have you ever wanted to kill?”
