The Last Game

The Last Game

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Dec 3, 2014
His father is boss. He himself is handsome and clever, always win the favor among girls. This is the way people around think of me. To be honest, I have no question with their comments. But in these ten years, never have I savored the taste of victory in any single match with this girl. "Let's bid for final victory... Trina." Then here comes... THE LAST GAME.
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#75
kelvin
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COMPLETED 💯 His eyes were serpent blue. Dark and poisonous. A meaning hid behind his gaze when he saw me for the first time. I've heard about sweet butterflies. I have even felt some but with him. It was tremors. Beautiful erotic tremors that burned my whole world after he took a step in. How do I tell him this attraction is too much? How do I face him when he looks at me like I am his meal? An only meal. How do I continue spending my summer in that house knowing he's in the same roof under me? "Lock the doors, Jenna," He had said one night when we were the only ones present in his Beverly Hills Villa. I tipped my head up mustering whatever courage I could gather at the moment to say how this is bad. That it can't happen again. We can't happen because he is my best friend's hot single father. Original Content. Fictional.

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