Page 1 of Sticky Fingers
Chapter One
Malcolm
Let’s face it,baby. The entire city of New York exists to suck my massive fucking cock.
I’m fucking serious. I got this entire fucking town squirming on my two fingers. I move them just a little bit…and it lets out a collective fucking orgasm. The good looks, the charm, the fucking billions of dollars in currency sitting in offshore accounts—it all adds up to me being one lucky fucking bastard.
That’s how I get into situations like this right now, where I’m staring at one of the most priceless works of art ever housed anywhere in the city. And don’t get me wrong, dollface, there are a lot of people in this town who would tell you to never leave Malcolm Push alone in the same room with a Picasso.
I have to agree. But I’ve come a long way since I was just a fucking kid with nothing in South Boston.
This particular Picasso is actually pretty good. It’s supposedly a famous one. Not that I would know the difference when it comes to art. I really couldn’t give a shit once you remove the price tags.
No. My interests definitely tend towards the more animal variety than the highbrow ones.
Anyway, about this painting… I have no idea if you like art, but the fact that you’re reading this book means you probably have some good taste yourself. I mean, fuck, Tara Starr is a fucking good author, amirite?
But this painting is a fucking trip, let me tell you. Makes an asshole like me appreciate the finer things in life—and not just a perfectly flavored champagne being poured on an exquisitely textured pussy either, but like, you know, art and shit.
Yeah, I sound like a world-class douchebag. The kind you roll your eyes at in exasperation…till I get my hands on you.
And then?
You’d roll your eyes in motherfucking pleasure, baby.
Too cocky? Too fucking confident? Too over-the-fucking-top alpha male ready to rip my fucking clothes off and growl and fucking tear your bra off with my fucking teeth and then bench-press you with my twelve-inch cock?
You thinking of putting the book down?
Don’t.
I promise, you’ll love it here—well, except for the rich asshole sniveling spineless motherfuckers who live at Clarendon Tower.
I mean, just look at all the fucking douchebags gathered in this place, hands in their chins as they look at the paintings on the wall, doing their best to look like pseudo-intellectual fucks.
But this is the Clarendon Tower Art Gallery. Of course, it’d be packed with snobs. Everyone loves to brag they’ve been to Clarendon Tower, even if for just a couple of hours. The building is, after all, home to the elite of the elite.
Probably why I fucking live here.
I’m Malcolm fucking Push after all.
With the gallery right off the lobby in the Clarendon Tower building, I can hear the drone of Peter Smorgasbord’s (or whatever the fuck) voice, the president of the condo board. He’s a skinny motherfucker with a terrible combover, and he probably loves bylaws and regulations more than he loves his wife’s pussy.
Whatever.
We got rid of our last condo board president, Norbert Snaggletooth, and thought we’d get a real man. But instead we get a fucking limp dick twat with a hot wife and a fucking horrible attitude.
The kind that doesn’t appreciate his fucking wife. That takes her for granted. That treats her like shit.
Who knows how they got together in the first place, but there’s no love there now and it fucking pains me to see it.
Because listen, dollface, my life may be knee-deep in fucking all the Manhattan pussy that I can handle, but the only reason I do it is because I value and respect the women in my life. I get it.
You might think that I’m a fucking clown or a misogynist asshole who just can’t get over himself, but if you met me, your pussy would be fucking dripping like a faucet when you looked into my eyes and saw that I couldn’t care less about the world while I spent time with you.
That every fucking part of my being wanted to just throw you on the ground and fuck you until you had seven orgasms and passed out. And then I’d hold you and whisper sweet nothings until you forgot the world.
Because that’s how women deserve to be fucking treated. Nothing else will do.
