[𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫]: Join Elena and Jake on journey around Los Angeles no one has seen so far, where they battle personal demons and emerge as a reunited cooperators. In a reunion marked by unraveling truths, they confront memories and face a myster...
Keeping my poker face and not letting a hint of amusement slip at his over-the-top efforts definitely deserves an Oscar.
It's a shame his whole persona don't match the depth and intrigue of his wallet and bank accounts;
Surely, the dick of his mouth far outweighs what's inside his trouser's zipper;
Leaving my real HQ with the hope of at least enjoying an extra bumpy ride in the meantime, I quickly realized that my perception of fully equipped male creatures would never compete with the power of my toys stashed under my bed.
No kidding; my own fingers could've taken me to come three times by now while these amateurs are still cluelessly hunting for the spot.
After enduring several cringy songs meant to set the mood, I finally breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled the car into the backyard of my "trap house."
That's my strategic spot, my go-to every time, the one people would rather steer clear of than venture into and investigate.
With a bit of gossip here and there about this place being haunted and everyone steers clear, giving me the perfect opportunity to move around without any prying eyes.
Just the way I love;
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"Sort of..." — He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the house — "Unique, you know?"
"Getting cold feet?" — I smirked, popping off my seatbelt.
"Baby, I stroll through way creepier crypts than this on the daily," — He smirked proudly, unbuckling his seatbelt — "But next time, I wouldn't mind inviting you to my place. Sure, it's decked out in luxury, but having you there would make all my million-dollar furniture pale in comparison to you."
I'm practically cringing to death;
We both stepped out of the car in sync, and as I made my way towards the wooden patio, I couldn't help but hear the sound of his boots crunching against the pebbles, mingling with the click of him locking the car.
As I rummaged through my purse for the keys, my hand brushed against all my fake documents and party essentials like lipstick and perfume, ready to make a quick exit if needed to ditch any unwanted company.
Making my way, I couldn't miss the soft, flirty whistle coming from him, undoubtedly directed at my ass.
"You're impressed that easily?" — I smoothly inserted the key into the lock — "We haven't even gotten to the main event yet."
