Until You

Until You

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing5h 46m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jan 9, 2021
Before her, I was content with my life. Knocking over convenience stores, stealing back up cars, hustling drugs, down to smashing the next face who dared to fuck with me. I did what I had to do to pay my rent. I chased the thug life. Being popular, I was the boss of my pack and my gang looked up to me. We did the job, and split the dough. We stole cars, changed tags, and planned carefully. My guys were fast and slick that by the time the cops came and wanted to get a description or look at the cameras, there was nothing but static by a push of a button; A special gadget I created to mute any picture of a person on camera. We changed appearances a lot. Wore different faces we plastered with makeup so no one could identify us. It was a game. It was a high. It was what I was born to do. And the drugs made the high even better. It was like I was living in a fantasy but it was reality. I was too good. I never got caught. Everyone who knew us, knew to keep their fucking mouths shut, unless they wanted to be apart of it or have their faces deformed. This was who I wanted to be and I wasnt going to change it for nobody. Until I met her. Until her, I never knew what Normal was. Dedicated to the very amazing, Anna Todd
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VELOCITY

She steps past me, hips swaying deliberately, pulling me in like a predator. Her helmet is fixed forward but her voice stalks me like a shadow no amount of light can take away. Slowly, deliberately, she slides her slender gloved hand down the cool metal tab of her fireproof suit. Her fingers curl around the zipper by her throat. With a tug, it dips lower over her chest. The neckline plunges into shadow, nothing hiding her recklessness. I lean in and press my fingers to the collar of her suit, and slowly drag them to the dip underneath her belly button where the zipper ends. She tenses suddenly, her breath catching. "You wanna flirt, fine," I say. "Beauty might buy you an audience, but it won't buy you speed." I slowly drag the zipper back up. "Maybe I want someone to call it," She says silkily. I bridge the ever-closing gap between us, my voice barely a thread. "Then stop hiding behind helmets, Angel." -------------------------------------------- Even through the thick smoke, the helmet, and the roar of the engines, he can't take his eyes off her. Not 𝙀𝙡𝙤𝙞𝙨𝙚, the composed girl with the gentle eyes and kind smile. 𝙑𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮. The ghost who races like a warning, the myth with steel in her veins. The one who's been haunting the streets and humiliating his crew, one win at a time. And he's obsessed.

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