Peters New Suit Novels & Stories

I replied. Peter Banducci extended his hand. A firm grip. Too warm. His suit was Italian-cut, naturally. Crisp blue with subtle pinstripes, the kind men chose when they wanted to look expensive without appearing loud. His cufflinks gleamed discreetly. His shoes had no scuffs. But it was the eyes—gray, quick, measuring—that told me the suit was a costume. I gestured toward the seats. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Peter settled across from me, elbows resting lightly on the table. He looked around the room as though he’d been here before.

His Three-pieces suit, hung perfectly on his body, his hair gelled to the other side of his face, leaving a little bit of bang in the front to give him the sexy look. His head and attention still on his Cell phone as he typed away with his new conquest. "Why are you still seated here? Are you not going to the party anymore? or perhaps you need your old man to give you a tongue lashing, huh?" Natasha who had just walked into the house, berated Peter who was seated a few feet away on the couch. "Madam." Natasha just nodded her head without glancing at the servant who took her bag away. she walked to the couch and sat down.

Blair put yesterday’s dress with the things she had collected from the bathroom into her tote bag. She walked over to the bed to get the suitcases off the bed, but Peters, noticing that she had finished, swiftly moved past Laura and reached them first. He effortlessly lifted the suitcases off the bed as if they weighed nothing at all. Laura gasped. “Who the fuck are you?” “How about none of your goddamn business?” Blair said as she followed the silent Peters out of the room. “What did you hook up with some random guy last night? What that makes you no better than…”

Pete's sudden action created the most intense moment of my recent days. It felt like a century since my heart last pounded this violently. It reminded me that I was still alive. Breathing heavily, I leaned against the wall and asked, "What are you doing?" He was dressed in a black suit. In the short span of half a month, his hair had grown quickly and seemed to be intended for a longer style. It was slicked flat with hair gel. He actually looked quite dashing.

I called one of Peter’s apprentices. He ran towards my side, slightly bowing his head and waiting for my order. Bragging his well-toned biceps just wearing a ripped sleeveless shirt, knee level shorts and a high cut converse. I assume from his way of clothing he wasn’t able to join his gang in abducting Nate. While Peter and his other members are in an all-black leather concept. So classic gangster style if you ask me.

“And I am quite offended that you are not eager to settle this business.” Petr had on a pristine black suit over a white soft silk shirt, with matching trousers and black shoes. His gold cufflinks gleamed under the evening setting sun. His Luna, Olga had on a cream soft long-sleeved shirt tucked in a maroon baggy suit pants and cream-coloured heels. Her blonde-white hair was severely pulled back in a long ponytail, revealing her almost picture-perfect face. “I have a lot of unfinished business, you might want to be specific,” Issa replied casually.

But she looked at the empty doorway where Liam had stood. He hadn't tried to fix it for her. He had agreed to do it her way. He was learning. She sat down at her desk. She picked up a pencil. She had a new idea. A suit. Not "armor." Not "wolf." A power suit. Red. Bright, unapologetic, blood red. Because she wasn't hiding the blood anymore. She was wearing it. She began to sketch. The "New Normal" wasn't about peace. It was about fighting back to back. And she was ready for the next round.

LAYTON Brice Peterson’s jaw hardened and his shoulders tensed. Nothing in his fancy office with his multi-million dollar view over lower Manhattan could save him from his past. I was here to make sure he knew that. In his tailored three piece suit with his blond hair slicked back, he looked every inch the high priced lawyer he had become after our paths diverged after high school. Plenty of jokes about how lawyers were scummy people in one way or another crept into my mind.

He always promised he’d tell me why one day, but I left before he could. The thought of wearing a suit someone else had worn grossed me out a little. I never wore anyone’s second hand underwear either. It always seemed dirty to me, no matter how many times I washed them. At last, unable to ignore Troy's piercing gaze any longer, I shook my head. “It’s okay.” He gave me a smile that said he could see straight through me. “They’re all brand new. If you take a suit from the pool house, it’s yours to keep.”

And then, like a bolt from the blue, he appears… "Sorry I'm late!" I turn my face and see Peter Alexandrovich, dressed in a stunning suit. And now he's coming to me. Our eyes seem to float in a terrible current of lust and excessive pleasure. He steps up onto the stage, his gaze dropping to my short dress. Will he be my partner? My God! I can't stand it!