Romans & histoires Just Some Guy With A Mustache

I replied and I was aware that I was sounding a bit shady. Lance fished something from the pocket of his jacket. “How about this?” He asked the moment he stuck a fake mustache right on his face. “What the fuck? You brought a fake mustache?” I exclaimed. Is he really committed to this whole act? He even brought a fake mustache just to make the look impeccable. “Yup. Just in case I don’t look like your uncle.”

the strange man greeted. Looking up, I saw the man glance between the two of us before he grinned at me. "Would you like to join us?" Milo asked, motioning his arm toward me. The man smiled wider before he sat next to him, his arm brushing against my right side as I moved further away from him in the booth. I was a ball of nerves with no idea what to say or do. I glanced up for a moment to get a better look at the stranger, noticing that he was around the age I thought he was. His light brown hair was beginning to gray above his ears, and his face was cleanly shaven. His face looked soft, and his hands even more so. Yeah, he was definitely the office type. It was obvious that he had never wo

So much white. He wasn’t wearing his glasses but the most unusual part was the mustache on his face. Where did the black bushy mustache come from because he didn’t have one earlier? Could he have grown one in less than twenty minutes? Magic.

Am I not convincing enough as a man now? Riven shook his head. He searched through his bag bringing out a rough mustache. ”Why do you have that?“ ”I sometimes change my identity too.“ he smiled, placing the mustache on his philtrum. The vertical groove in the middle of his upper lip. He demonstrated, mimicking the look of an old man. I laughed. Even I will truly mistake him to be an old man. He helped me place it on my philtrum. It was enough to cover my identity, but I now look like a handsome young man.

I turned my gaze back to the sports car. Suddenly, the door opened. Mustapha stepped out, looking ghastly. His all-black outfit made him appear as if he had just come from a funeral. His black obsidian hair was slicked back, save for a few bangs that hung over his forehead. His face was exceptionally pale, and heavy bags under his eyes made him look like a walking ghost. He was smoking a regular cigar while holding a gun and a knife. Truth be told, Mustapha was the most dangerously handsome among Martello's men, despite his bored demeanor. Although his average height made me look like a fragile man, he was a total freak. A fucking maniac that they called him.

She asked again like I had just been wasting my energy explaining to her. “I told you everything just now, weren't you listening?” I let out a frustrated sigh. She shook her head slowly and said, “It's hard to pay attention when your mustache keeps distracting me.” Fuck! I quickly touched my face and the mustache was there. My eyes widened, “Wow!” I said nervously as I removed the mustache. “Are you ready to tell me where you're coming from?” She demanded. “Look, Judith. I was really just playing around with this thing.” I continued to press.

“I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit from when I was on the streets.” As he spoke, he came to sit at Amanita’s side. “I was very poor then and couldn’t afford food. To fill my stomach, I would occasionally have to resort to crime.” Marcus’s voice was sad. “Back in those dark days, I only had Risa by my side. She’s the most important person to me.” At this, Marcus paused and turned to Amanita. His eyes seemed as deep as a bottomless abyss. No one could ever truly see through him.

I immediately made my way to the kitchen to fix something for myself, but I was caught off guard. There he was, standing as if he had walked right off a billboard, wearing a sleeveless black top and briefs, his firm hands were evidence of years of gyming, and I could see his dick through those damned briefs. He rolled his tattooed fingers on the glass he was holding, somehow I picked that it was a habit for him to do that. “I asked if you need something?” his voice sounded huskier than usual, and there was something it did to me.

Cara spoke, shoving her phone in front of my face. Wow, that sounded weirdly professional. I kept swiping back and forth between the two guys. One of the guy looked tall, well built with dirty blonde hair and he was wearing a black leather jacket. He screamed hot and danger in all caps. The other guy had this regular boy next door vibe with brown hair and he was pretty good looking. He reminded me of Tyler for a second and my mind was already starting to compare them both. Fucking hell! When does he get out of my head?

Five minutes tick by before the door swings open and a tall, dark, and handsome stranger walks in. Okay, maybe not a stranger, but definitely tall, dark, and handsome. He's got that whole “tech guru” vibe going on, complete with a strong jawline, dark eyes, and a mop of neatly trimmed dark hair. His crisp white shirt and tailored black pants make him look like he just stepped out of a catalog. Mr. IT Guy strides over, gives me a brief nod, and dives into computer rescue mode. Me? I'm stuck in stare-mode. His profile is like a work of art — straight nose, lips that look ridiculously soft, and lashes that seem to go on forever. Every time he swallows, his Adam's apple does this adorable little