Mmf Amateur Novels & Stories

She looked disturbingly calm, like she hadn’t just knocked three guys down. Alex swallowed hard. She was crazy—he could feel it now. Louis curled to the side, barely conscious, but still aware of the chaos around him. The girl stepped forward. Alex backed away slowly, fear creeping into his eyes as he noticed something stitched on the back of her jacket: #5 MMF. “Shit,” he muttered. She smiled. “More like bitch,” she taunted, stepping closer. “You’re one of the MMF fighters?” he asked, horrified. The MMF—Midnight Match Fighters—was an underground casino where people bet on street brawlers.

I asked. “Good news, man. There’s a team looking for a new recruit, urgently. I filed for you—you got the job. You’ll be on their team. There’s an upfront payment, a bill that covers your new amenities, a car, a villa. Your brother’s hospital expenses will be covered too…” “Wait… where is this going? This makes no sense. What team pays that much for a rookie? Besides, what team is asking for a rookie? It’s barely into the nationals. Something isn’t right.”

Ohhh boy, he isn't going to let this topic go easily. I groan at constantly being treated like a baby. "You know aiden and roseline are our very close friends. We kinda brought up together. So both Aaron and rosaline is like you and Janice to us. For once I would have considered approving Aaron for you but not after all the heroic sh*t. I am going to tell you something ella and I want you to listen to me with open mind." I don't know why but anxiety starts to arising inside me. "Aaron runs a mafia clan. He's the king of America mafia. The ultimate leader." By each passing word my mind seals automatically. My breathe hitched, brain got jammed and body refuse to move. How many more shocks are

I explain, stepping back and offering a weak, tight smile. To be completely honest, a burning humiliation is twisting in my gut. I have spent months building a reputation as a competent, high-level business closer who can handle a massive entity like Frost Industries. Yet, here I am, held against my will in my boss's fortress, conducting a corporate brief while being babysat by a six-foot-four mafia enforcer.

I said. He whispered something to the server and she took right off. “So Blue, what do you do,” I asked. He grinned, showing off a perfect smile. It was actually pretty nice if you could look past the intimidating tattoos. “I’m a fighter, MMA,” he said. “Oh wow, isn’t that … dangerous,” I asked. “Only if you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, moving his arm around me. He pulled me tight to him and I sighed internally. I felt absolutely nothing for this male and I wasn’t attracted to him at all.

Different from the coldness in his voice from earlier. I nod, "I think so." I say simply and he slips his hand out of my grasp, then he turns his head to the direction of the thugs. "Good, now I can handle these amateurs." He said. The leader laughs, "Amateurs? Is that what you think of us?" He chuckles, "I'll show you what an amateur is." He said, charging at the stranger. "Then you'll learn not to interfere when men are having their fun." he says as he tries to punch him. But he easily dodges, bending down and giving the thug leader a punch in the gut. I gasp, as he spews out blood.

“You haven’t been back here before, from what I hear.” I nodded and took a deep breath. “You’re right, I haven’t. And it’s… it’s a lot to take in, I’ll admit,” I said, glancing around at the frenzy of cars and pit crews and drivers, all backed up by the sound of the crowd humming with anticipation in the distance. “I had no idea Logan was into… this.” Miles nodded. “I’ve been doing this for ten years, five of which I’ve worked with Logan. He’s one of the best in our circle. Races under a pseudonym.”

DOMINIC DIREKEN Spineless. Weak. Submissive. Those three words best described the man in front of me, keeping up a brave font even though I could see his knees bucking every now and then. There were actually quite a lot more words that I would describe him with. Words like... tempting and... Scrap that. Those three words described him best. Maybe adding 'lowly' to the words would make it a better fit for him. The flushed look on his face when I had pulled my towel off had been quite amusing.

“MF is male and female. MFF, one male, two females, and FMM is one female, two males.” “Oh.” “Now, the question is which are you a fan of because left to me, I’ll recommend one male and one female and I’ll recommend myself.” “What??!” I laughed. “I’m just here to watch. I’m really not interested in any of these.” “You don’t get it,” he said and leaned closer. “The moment you stepped in here, you ripped yourself of the chance to say no. You’re going with someone and you either pick now, or they pick you.”

"I birthed you son, I know when you lie and when you speak the truth, you don't have to hold yourself back, I know that look in your eyes, stop denying it...you are in love with him and.." "You know nothing." My tone suddenly became sharp as I broke lose from her hold and stood up, her eyes showed shock and then she sighed. "Arson.." "Am gonna get us out of this mess mum." "Arson listen to me..." "Hand me the Glutton file, and tell those mafia bastards am with it, let's see how they come at me."