Emrys
- Reads 16,688
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- Parts 21
MatureOngoing2h 51m
Last published Thu, Jun 1, 2023
"The race is about to start-" I murmur my brows furrow pinching together. "Having tasks ahead has never stopped me from getting what I want," softly, moving her hand against my hard member.
Groaning I hiss "I hate you so fucking much" my grip tightens on her neck still allowing her to breathe as she gasps leaning into my hand more,
"Yet you just love being inside me" she hums her eyes slightly closing.
Fuck yea I do.
~~~~
𝗘𝗺𝗿𝘆𝘀 𝗖𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 and his close but far away happy ending.
An arrogant handsome man, tan skin with wavy dirty blonde hair and grey eyes the beauty of them looking like the sky during a storm. A brutal past of trauma, even current ones follows him; struggling with PTSD and depression. He finds some hope in his favorite things he picked up on, underground street fighting and street racing.
A blossom of peace forms in him while he's taking part in these things. It is the only thing that makes him feel free and safe. All until the night he met her and his life changed upside down as if she just swooped him from his feet like a fairytale the girl who he thought would be his angel. Although this is no fairytale its reality.
His reality where unknowingly she's his devil. The one and only Regina della morte but with power to flip the scripts can they become each others angel one another's light in this so called world which withholds as there hell.
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VELOCITY
She steps around me, hips swaying like a predator's, her helmet fixed forward but her voice stalking me like a shadow. Slowly, deliberately, she slides one gloved hand down the metal tab of her fireproof suit. Her fingers curl around the zipper by her throat. With a tug, it dips lower over her chest. Not just a few inches, no, all the way. The neckline plunges into shadow, nothing hiding the fact that she's crossed the line from race-ready to reckless. From fierce to fucking dangerous. I lean in, my other hand rising. I press my fingers to the collar of her suit. Right at the edge where the zipper ends. Her breath catches, and even through the helmet, I hear it. "You wanna flirt, fine," I say. "But if you're going to look death in the eye and laugh, you better be ready for someone to call your bluff." I drag the zipper back up. "Maybe I want someone to call it," She says silkily. I don't let go of her wrist. Instead, I lean just a little closer, my voice barely a thread. "Then stop hiding behind helmets." -------------------------------------------- Even through the thick smoke, the helmet, through the roar of the engines- he sees 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.
His Mafia Queen|✔️
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𝓣𝓻𝓾𝓵𝔂 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼
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