Mr 112dirtbag Novels & Stories

I send the links to him and I wait for his answer. Mr. X is typing... Mr. X is typing... Mr. X is typing... Mr. X says: Would there be room for one more? Dalia Penedo Salazar says: Probably yes... it’s a house for ten people, X. srsrsrsrsrs Mr. X says: Then get me a room. For a moment I thought I read it wrong, or that he wrote it wrong, but not to my surprise. He had written that, leaving me in shock.

“I was letting her answer. If this were a class, I’d just be the overachiever waiting for the rest of you to catch up.” I try not to laugh. I really do. But a quiet laugh escapes before I can stop it. The deadpan look on his face, paired with the ridiculousness of his logic, it’s too much. Up until now, he’s seemed so composed, so cold. But now I see something else. Something sharper and far more unhinged in the most unexpected, dry-humored way. He sighs and sits down, finally giving us the answer. “The last payment went to Mark.”

Jordan Miller ~•~ Just like Romano had said before he left, a man came into the room, claiming to want to take me to my new room. He had hair, as long as Alessandro's — his own was blond though — and it was up in a man-bun, making visible the tattoo of a dagger on his neck. He had bright blue eyes and that was probably the one thing that made him less intimidating in my eyes, even though his gaze was really cold.

An elderly man's face surfaces. "Um ... Hello" I commenced not sure of how to start the conversation. "Hello. How may I help you ?" the man asked. Looking at the clothes he was wearing, you'd know he's just managing his life. "Actually my car got hit by someone earlier and he gave me a card to bring my car for fixing" I explained handing him the card . He accessed the card and a smile follows which I found kinda weird . "Come in" was what he said before turning around inside . My brows furrowed in confusion Nevertheless, I followed him. I almost choked at the unusual weird smell that was formulating in the room. Everywhere was dirty and full of grease.

"You'll pay for touching my wife," Jethro growled, his fists tightening. A possessive man like him could never possibly be okay with his wife being almost sullied by a bunch of low-life assholes. "You talk big for a twink. Don't you know who I am? I’m Drac Dog!" the man himself retorted, a little incensed at Jethro's lack of deference. "No clue who you are,” Jethro snapped back. Drac Dog trembled in rage. "So that’s how you wanna play, huh? All right, class is now in session. I’m gonna ingrain into your muscle memory just who you're dealing with!"