Dallas Winston Jacket Novels & Stories

The Iron Wolves. I wiped my hands on a rag and stepped out of the garage bay. Five bikes rolled into the parking lot, their chrome gleaming in the noon sun. Dax Steele rode at the front, his Harley customized with details that made my mechanic's heart appreciate the craftsmanship even as my brain screamed at me to run. He dismounted with that same predatory grace I'd witnessed last night. Today he wore a leather vest over a black t-shirt, his club patches prominently displayed, Vice President. The Iron Wolves logo, a snarling wolf's head surrounded by flames and dominated his back.

There was a flash of bitterness in her eyes, but she had to agree and said, "Yes, sir. I'll do it right away." Miss Susan turned around to cook the noodles. Blake turned around and saw Winson pick up a piece of clothes from the box. Winson pinched the shoulders on both sides of his clothes, looked at it with the light, and then leaned against his body. The size was just right. It was a light brown cashmere shirt, which would be very good-looking if matched with a shirt. It was suitable for early spring weather. Winson touched the soft cloth, put the clothes on the table, and took off his school uniform jacket.

She opened the door and got in. Winston was dressed in a suit, wearing an expensive watch on his wrist. His black hair was impeccably groomed, and he exuded an air of nobility.

She got to the end of the aisle, and then stepped out of it, joining the other guests. Jake walked down the aisle next in a white tuxedo jacket and trousers made with high quality wool. It had a single-breasted design, featuring a satin peak lapel that gracefully widened as it approached the shoulders. There was a white satin pocket square elegantly peeking from the welt pocket and adding a touch of refinement to the ensemble. The jacket's silhouette was tailored to perfection, creating a slim, flattering fit that accentuated Jake's physique. The shoulders were softly padded for a refined structure, and the sleeves tapered elegantly towards the wrists.

the man shouted and Dexton come inside pushing the food trolley. Kylie’s eyes widened seeing Dexton in a white double-breasted jacket, pants in a black-and-white houndstooth pattern, and an apron with a toque blanche on his head, his face was full of smiles as he pushed the trolley. Kylie’s mind wandered off to the time she got hit by a boy that wore their uniform. “ Could he be the one ?” she wondered.

“You’re ruining me for anyone else.” And maybe I already was ruined too. I slipped into a black jumpsuit, zipped halfway up, revealing just a hint of lace beneath. My boots matched Darlington’s—military issue, thick-soled and ankle high. Over it, I threw on a cropped utility jacket. Hair in a slick ponytail. To top it all an eyeliner and Ms Paris body mist and perfume. I picked out Darlington’s outfit: black armor tee-top, baggy cargo pants, and a sleek vest, combat boots, and his signature Patek Phillipe wristwatch. He smirked at how I matched him like we were some kind of elite spy couple.

“Rancid left you something.” Nitro stood up and walked to the back of the room and opened a door. He disappeared inside and returned a few minutes later with a large box, one that would hold an expensive dress. He placed the box on the table in front of Jake and sat down again. Jake opened the box and pulled out the black leather jacket. It felt heavy in his hands and he turned it over. On the back, etched onto the leather, was a burning phoenix with his road name, ‘Wrath’, beneath it. Jake swallowed the lump away and looked at Bandit. “Fucking Rancid,” he said, and everyone burst out laughing.

The air seemed to crackle with tension, each step of Aiden's echoing a reminder of his elevated status. Isabella watched as everything slowed down to her. Aiden's appearance was a striking blend of elegance. He wore a fitted black jacket that clung perfectly to his athletic frame, tailored precisely to magnify his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The jacket was sleek and spotless, with deep red linens running along either side, a designing but deliberate touch of color that hinted at a more dangerous allure. The red trim seemed to pulse against the black fabric, a quiet but bold statement that mirrored Aiden's own presence–controlled yet impossible to ignore.

I gasped. Dakota. Her name is Dakota. She's a Devaloines? She's arm in arm with Nick as they smiled happily at their employees. The Nick Wilde, my ex, is standing before me. He's wearing an all black suit with a grey vest under it, white long sleeves, a pair of black tie too and that pointy and shiny black leather shoes. He looks so tall and so lean. He looks more handsome on that suit. Oh my god my heart swells as I look at even more. I lost him.

“Those are male attire, for doing labor and such.” “Exactly.” Wiley took two pair, one black and one brown, into the curtained alcove in the back of the merchant’s stall. They fit perfectly and felt even better than jeans. “Sold.” She said when she came out. She picked out two more pairs, plus some long sleeved shirts. She also grabbed a few shirts with tulip sleeves and Chinese collars and arranged for delivery. She even tossed in a couple for Jasmine, knowing she’d appreciate it. Dresses had their place, but she didn’t want to be stuck in them for the rest of her life.